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roosterforme · 3 months

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Smarter Than the Average Beer Boy | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: After months of attending your lectures, Bradley has honed his math skills beyond his wildest expectations. A night out with the boys reveals just how smart and endearing your husband really is, even when he has a hangover.

Warnings: Swears, fluff, drinking, oral sex, shirtless Beer Boy, 18+

Length: 3100 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

Happy birthday to @cherrycola27!

This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time but it can be read on its own! Banner by @thedroneranger Check out my masterlist

You were on your way to teach your last class of the day, and it was your least favorite one. When the class schedules were being organized for next semester, you planned on begging Dr. Rosenthal to let you trade this awful linear algebra class away for one of his calculus lectures. Because at least calculus was something to which you could add a little spice to keep your students interested, unlike this one.

Even though you already ate the snack your husband packed in your tie dye lunchbox, you were still hungry. You'd have to remind him to pack you something extra next Thursday. But as you were on your way to the lounge to quickly get something from the vending machine, you heard his voice.

"Sugar."

You spun around in your loafers and tweed skirt and saw your husband in full khaki uniform heading your way. "Beer Boy. What are you doing here?" you asked, giving up on the idea of a snack and heading in his direction instead. "I'm about to give a lecture."

"I know," he said with a smirk, voice all deep and raspy. "I got dismissed early, and I stopped at home to get you a snack. Thought maybe I could join your lecture tonight since I won't get to spend tomorrow evening with you."

You almost dropped your notebook as you wrapped your arms around his waist and propped your chin on his chest. "Are you my snack?" you asked as he leaned down to kiss you.

"Nor exactly," he laughed, holding up two small containers. "I brought you some homemade hummus and pita chips. But if you want to skip your lecture and head up to your office, I'd be more than happy to fuck you while I feed you."

"Tempting," you told him with a moan. He was always so sure of himself when he was with you, and it was a massive turn on. But when he grinned and started pulling you toward the elevators, you had to dig your loafers in. "I can't let my students down," you said with a little pout. "Come on. You can sit in the back and take notes."

"Nah. I'll just watch my hot wife in action. Take some mental notes that I can think about at the bachelor party tomorrow night."

You rolled your eyes as you took the containers from him. "You'll have so much fun with Jake and the boys, you won't even be thinking about me at all."

"Newsflash, Dr. Sugar," he whispered as you entered the lecture hall with his hand on your butt. "I'm always thinking about you."

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

Yes, it was fun watching you work. Your lectures were informative, and you were very passionate about the subject. You were also gorgeous, and Bradley wouldn't mind watching you do this all day long. And sure, he loved that you wrote a few problems on the board for your students to work through so you could eat the hummus and pita chips he brought. And yeah, he squirmed a bit in his seat when you winked at him from the podium as you licked your fingertip.

But the really interesting thing was the fact that Bradley was getting pretty fucking good at math now. If he could go back to undergrad studies, he might even choose it as his major instead of political science. Nobody ever really encouraged him to show off his smarts after his mom died. Well, besides you. There was something about the way you always recognized that he was intelligent that made him fall even harder for you. And since he knew what it felt like to live without you for ten years, he didn't mind watching you teach the same classes over and over. He just wanted to be around you.

When you asked if there were any volunteers to work through the problem, Bradley was able to follow every detail and come up with the correct answer from his seat. And when you finally ended the class, he went up to the front of the room and kissed your cheek right in front of the straggling students. "Any chance you can bring one of the homework sheets home for me to work on later this weekend?" he asked, stealing your last pita chip.

You looked up at him with adoring eyes, and it wasn't fair, because you knew what those little tweed skirts did to him. "You're really going to work on a problem set?"

"Yeah," he told you with a shrug. "Why not? This class was fun, and maybe you can check my answers and reward me?" he asked hopefully.

"If you want to be my top student, you better get them all correct." You ran your fingers along the front of his khakis as you picked up your notebook and started walking away.

"I'll be so good, Baby," he promised as he followed you out. He was planning on working on the problems on Sunday after he spent all day Saturday recovering from Jake's bachelor party. Tomorrow night was for the boys, but tonight he would be spending with you.

When he got you home, he boiled a pot of water for some of the homemade pasta he made and dried last weekend, and he started heating up some of his homemade sauce and meatballs. "This is so fucking sexy," you whispered, rubbing up on him in your tweed while you sipped a beer. "You are really good at feeding me."

He stole the bottle and drank some. "You're really good at everything else." When he tried to hand it back, you just shook your head and dropped slowly to your knees. He was already a little hard from all the tweed rubbing, but then you kissed his zipper, and his dick responded immediately. "Look at that. I didn't even have to do the math problems."

You grinned up at him while he sipped the beer. "Maybe this is just a little reminder for you to be good tomorrow night when you're out with the boys. No drinking and driving. No letting them get into fights. No playing beer pong without me. If you're good, then there's more where this came from."

Bradley was really enjoying the cold beer as you undid his belt and button before you eased his zipper down. "I'll be so good. I'm a hundred percent domesticated."

You moaned as his cock sprang free, and you rubbed your face against him. "I know." He was about to tell you he'd been that way since the two of you were college seniors, but suddenly all coherent thoughts left his brain. You were gently kissing his balls as you ran your fingers up underneath his shirt and teased his abs. "You're a very good boy."

His cock was throbbing and tapping you on the cheek as your tongue flicked out to taste him. "Sugar," he grunted before sipping the beer again.

"Hmm." You were looking up at him as your lips barely met his skin. "What should I do with you?" Somehow you were making Bradley feel submissive even though you were on your knees for him, and he tipped his head back and groaned.

"Fuck me up, Sugar."

"Gladly," you replied, and he felt your tongue draw a slow and steady line from his tight balls all the way to the head of his cock. Bradley watched as you took the very tip of his bouncing length between your pretty lips. All you did was hold eye contact as you sucked on him like he was a piece of candy, your fingers tickling the trail of hair below his belly button, and he was mesmerized.

"Those pouty lips will be the death of me," he whispered before sipping the beer again. "So fucking pretty." You sucked on him a little harder, and he clenched. Damn, you hadn't even taken him deep yet, and he was already eager. But he didn't care, because you already knew what you did to him.

Then you popped him free, rubbed your nose against his trimmed pubes before kissing his tip and said, "I love you." Then you grabbed him by the hips and let him slide all the way so he was tapping the back of your throat.

"Oh, fuck," he grunted, already thinking about you gagging on his cum. You shook your head slightly when he was deep, and tears filled your eyes as you sucked. Bradley gripped the bottle, his voice only a harsh whisper as he said, "That's it. That's it. Fuck."

A few more deep thrusts had you struggling, which was honestly so fucking hot to him. You were making desperate little sounds, but you bobbed on him until you gagged. And that's really all it took.

You moaned as he filled your mouth, and he ran his thumb along your cheek as you gently sucked every drop from him. "Show it to me," he whispered softly and you smiled as you released him. Slowly, you parted your lips and tilted your face up for him, showing off your cupped tongue full of his cum. "Beautiful."

Then you swallowed him down and kissed his drained balls once more before you stood and took the beer bottle from his hand. Casually, you took a sip like you didn't just leave him twitching before you. "Is dinner almost ready?"

He was still thinking about it the next night when he was out with all the guys. Jake was marrying Jessica in a month, and all he asked for was a night of bar hopping. Normally Bradley would have been very good at this, but he was thinking about the way he'd fed you bites of pasta while standing in the kitchen as you moaned over how delicious it was.

"Come on, Rooster, have a shot," Payback said, passing him some tequila. Just a few drinks would help him focus on the night with the guys. "Bottoms up."

But at first, the drinks just made him think about calling you to see what you were up to. Jessica was supposed to stop by the house to hang out for a while, and he wondered if she was still there. Maybe she left and you were already changed into his Grateful Dead shirt for bed. Maybe he could just get an Uber right now and go home and find out for himself. He'd slip right into bed next to you.

"Time for the karaoke bar!" Javy announced, and then Bradley had more shots in front of him before he ended up onstage, and he couldn't be sure where his shirt went, but oh well, it didn't really matter since his favorite shirt was at home with you, and it was suddenly time to sing.

But he did remember to text you and let you know he'd be home very late.

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Having the empty house to yourself felt a bit like it did when Bradley was deployed. So in that respect, it made you a little antsy. But on the other hand, it was peaceful when you had Jessica over for some snacks and a glass of wine. It was close to midnight when a bunch of photos came through to your phone and hers.

"Oh no," she groaned as you scrolled through the images from Mickey. It appeared as though Bradley lost his shirt. Typical.

"They are a mess," you muttered, finally getting to one where the guys were physically holding Jake up. "You're going to have your work cut out for you tomorrow."

She shook her head but laughed. "I think I'll head home and wait for him. I don't know if he'll even be able to make it from the front door to the bedroom without help."

"Bradley doesn't look much better," you added as you got to the last photo where he was chugging a beer, the amber liquid dribbling down his neck and bare chest. "Oh Lord."

"Call me tomorrow and let me know how bad it is?"

"Yeah," you agreed, walking her to the door and giving her a hug.

And then you were met with silence again. You changed into Bradley's tie dye shirt and his robe that he'd had since college, but you weren't even slightly tired now. You glanced across the hallway to your office door covered in your own handwriting.

SUGAR LOVES BEER BOY

Working through an advanced calculus problem before bed would definitely help you unwind. You walked to your white board while you looked up a problem on your phone and then scribbled it down and got to work. Oh, this one was a bit tricky with lots of side math to complete first. The squeak of your marker was soothing, and by the time you got to your tenth line in the proof solution, you were yawning.

"Works like a charm," you muttered, capping the marker and heading back across the hall where you climbed into bed.

At one point during the night, you thought you heard Bradley stumble in the front door. "Beer Boy?" you called out, rolling over in bed.

You heard him slur, "It's just me, Sugar," followed by the sound of the refrigerator opening up. He'd come to bed eventually after he got a snack. You scooted back all the way to your side, preemptively trying to avoid him being a sticky, sweaty mess. You smiled and curled up, and you were back to sleep in seconds.

But he never did come to bed, as evidenced by the still crisp bedding on his side when you woke up again at nine. You stretched and climbed out from the pocket of warmth and reached for his robe before you went to search the house.

You started in the kitchen, thinking that being near the refrigerator might have been more appealing than the bed, but he wasn't there. You glanced out back and on the living room couch, but you didn't see him anywhere.

"Bradley?" you called out as you looked in the bathroom, but he hadn't even fallen asleep in the tub. You pressed your lips together as you poked your head inside your office and gasped. "Seriously?"

He was sound asleep on the floor, his shirt nowhere to be seen, and he was snoring loudly. An empty ice cream carton and spoon were next to his head, and it looked like he'd eaten a value sized bag of pretzels. There were a few more wrappers and a lot of crumbs on the floor, and you just gaped at him as he started to roll onto his side and look around.

"What the fuck? Why is it such a mess in here? I just cleaned on Wednesday," he groaned, hair sticking up at every angle. He tilted his head and looked up at you through squinted eyes. "What happened?"

You gave him an incredulous look. "Why don't you tell me?"

He continued to look around the room as he sat up. "I don't know," he replied, pushing the pretzel bag to the side as he cradled his forehead in his palm. "Last thing I remember is the guys making me sing Caress Me Down for karaoke. Where's my shirt?"

Your deep sigh should have been warning enough for him, but he looked down at his abs, shocked that he was only wearing half of his outfit. "Once again, Bradley, why don't you tell me?"

"Baby, how am I supposed to know?" he whined. "God, now I have a fucking hangover, and I can't think."

If Jake was also this bad at the moment, then Jessica might need a reassuring phone call later. Hopefully he hadn't destroyed the carpet in their condo. You needed to get Bradley into the shower and then put him in bed so you could clean up the floor, but your eyes caught on your white board, and you gasped. "Bradley."

"What now?" he moaned as he got to his hands and knees in the crumbs. "My head is throbbing."

Your eyes skimmed from the top of the board to the very bottom, and you started laughing. He was looking up at you, confusion swirling along his handsome features as you had to brace your hands on your knees while you gasped for air and cackled. "Beer Boy!"

"Okay, yes," he grunted. "I'm beginning to think I was actually the one who made the mess in here, but I'll clean it up. It's not that funny."

"Bradley!" you screeched, pointing to the board. "You solved my advanced calculus problem!"

Slowly and seemingly painfully, he turned his head to look and crawled closer to the wall. "I don't think so," he muttered. "I don't even know what all of that means." He was standing on his knees, and trying so hard to figure it out. "Holy shit, that's my handwriting."

"It definitely is," you said through your laughter as you gently combed your fingers through his messy hair. He practically melted against your leg with his big hand on your thigh below his robe. "I am... somehow really impressed by this? You got drunk, got a ride home at four in the morning, and then you solved an advanced math problem before you passed out on my office floor."

"Yeah, I'm impressive as hell," he whispered, kissing you through the robe fabric.

"You know... if you weren't so terribly hungover, I'd offer to blow you again like yesterday. Because this is something only my very best student would be able to do. And I love rewarding my best student."

You stroked his cheek softly with your knuckles as he stared up at you with parted lips. "Professor Sugar," he rasped. "I'm totally fine. Barely hungover at all."

"Are you sure?" you laughed. "You look a little rough. And you made a huge mess."

"Yeah," he replied immediately. "I'm great. Wanna join me in the shower?"

You bent to kiss his forehead and whispered, "If you think you can handle it."

"Hell yes," he groaned, trying three times before he was able to get to his feet. Then he took you by the hand, and you helped him down the hallway to the bathroom.

You pointed out the small closet on the way. "And when we're done, the vacuum cleaner is just hanging out right in there, waiting for you to clean up my office."

"Yeah, okay."

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

Happy birthday, Nik! When you mentioned this idea, it had me cracking up. I hope you enjoy it as a birthday gift one day early! Thanks @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls and @thedroneranger

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ohtobeleah · 8 months

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Bruises // Jake Seresin

Summary: After a mission goes south, Jake finds himself captured by insurgents that show no remorse. But what’s worse than knowing he failed his mission? Knowing that the Weapons Systems Officer who trusted him to bring her home safe was in the same cell as him. Collecting bruises that match his own.

Mini Series Warnings: Heavy themes of violence, sexual assault, torture. 18+ content. Minors DNI. Mature themes. Being held in captivity. Hostage style situation. Main character death! Whump, Angst. Conversations that discuss antisocial & antisemitism views.

Author Note: THIS SERIES IS CONFRONTING, FICTIONAL, AND DEPICTS IMAGES OF TORTURE. DO NOT READ PAST THIS POINT IF YOU BELIEVE THAT THIS SERIES WILL BE DETRIMENTAL TO YOUR MENTAL STABILITY. CURATE YOUR OWN TIMELINE.

Chapter One: [Happily Ever Afters Don’t Exist] A certain naval aviator shows up on your front doorstep right on cue. Because when the nightmares are too hard to handle on their own? You and Jake find solace in one another’s presence. (2.5k ) (Out Now)

Chapter Two: [Tactile Takedown] When a missile is headed right for Roosters F-18, Jake makes a decision that could end up costing you your life. (4.4k) (Out Now)

Chapter Three: [In The Arms Of The Enemy] Both you and Jake come face to face with the man you only know as ‘The Commander’ who you soon find out has very little patience for bullshit. (4.6k) (Out Now)

Hotshot: The moments before you were brought into your cell & the memory that haunted Jake Seresins mind. (1.3k )

Chapter Four: [Men & Their Many Masks] You and Jake find yourselves alone in his cell for what feels like a week. Passing the time with mundane conversations. But when The Commander and his fellow officers finally come back? Things take a turn for the worst. (5.3k) (Out Now)

Chapter Five: [Emerald City:] *** You’re forced against your will by three insurgents all the while Jake helplessly watches on. In return? He’s given a gift made only for the broken hearted. (4.8k) (Out Now)

Chapter Six: [Ninety in Five] *** Hours, Days, Weeks, Months. Just how long have you and Jake been enduring the horrific torture at the hands of a Rogue Nations Commander. (5.4k) (Out Now)

Chapter Seven: [War Wounds in the Ward] When help finally arrives, Jake believes it may be too late. The extent of both your injuries are finally revealed and the both you come face to face with the reality of just how long you’d been held in captivity for. (7.4k) (Out Now)

Chapter Eight: [The Platform] When Jake wakes up beside you after seeking refuge in your company, he’s forced to face a nightmare he thought would only ever exist in his mind. (1.6k) (Out Now)

Epilogue: [Before, During & Never After] There one place Jake Seresin knows where to find you after he’s woken by a startling bark. (1.6k) (Out Now)

Concepts / Blurbs.

-> [Don’t Wanna Miss My Stop] Jake Overdoses

-> [Don’t Blame Me] Jake doesn’t blame himself for how you died. He blames himself for why you died.

Status: Complete

Life After Death Spin off Series

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin angst #Jake Seresin whump #jake hangman x you #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fanfiction

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sometimesanalice · 11 months

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Hey, Sailor

Summary: It’s Fleet Week and Rooster would rather be anywhere else than on the flight deck of the USS Portland. That is, until a pretty thing in a sundress catches his eye and then suddenly his day is looking up.

Pairing: Bradley”Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 5.8K

Warnings: Flirty Banter, Smut, and Bradley Bradshaw in Summer Whites (Minors DNI)

Note: When @roosterforme asks you to write her a Fleet Week fic, you write the Fleet Week fic! Here you go, Em! 💛

Normally, Rooster loved Fleet Week.

He loved the lively atmosphere and the parades. He loved the free drinks that were handed to him as soon as he entered a bar. And he especially loved all the attention he got from women when he wore his Summer Whites.

He usually came back to the ship looking less than pristine with lipstick on the collar of his uniform and hidden on other places on his body.

The USS Portland was teaming with excited families and camera-happy civilians taking in the sights from deck of the transport ship as they settled in for the five-hour journey to the San Diego. It was a Fleet Week tradition to welcome people aboard for an immersive experience, picking them up from a port further up North and then cruising along the coast before making their final docking for the week.

There were grills set up on the deck and the smell of flame kissed hamburgers and hotdogs mixed with the sea salt air. The sun was shining and the mood was light.

But this year, Rooster simply could not be bothered to give a fuck.

Especially not when he could have been home already instead of being stuck giving tours on a ship that he’d never even stepped foot on prior to three days ago when he and Hangman had been given orders to join in the procession on the vessel into the city after completing a short training deployment.

His superiors had okay-ed the terrible suggestion from some random Public Relations Specialist who clearly didn’t realize that he had better things to do with his time.

Early that morning, Bradley had stood on the dock with his arms crossed and wearing an impassive scowl as they had lifted his Super Hornet onto the flight deck like it was some kind of decorative hood ornament.

Sure, it was fun to watch the kids’ eyes get wide with excitement as they ooh-ed and ahh-ed over the features as he pointed them out, but he was getting hot and uncomfortable in his uniform in the mid-afternoon sun on the black tarmac.

He’d rather be in his service khakis like Seresin. Or better yet, naked at home in his own bed.

How Hangman had weaseled himself onto barbecue duty with a beer in his hand, Rooster would never know. The bastard probably played his Texan sir, I came out of the womb grilling shtick.

And every time he passed by the son of a bitch would give him a cocky salute with his tongs.

Jake was irritating on the best day, but today he was downright insufferable.

And he knew it had everything to do with the fact that Hangman’s girlfriend was laughing and lingering at his side, having surprised him by flying in with tickets for the coastal cruise.

At least someone was having a nice time, because it sure as shit wasn’t him.

Rooster was in the process of wrapping up his fourth tour of the day and handing out a couple of Dixie Cup hats to kids on the landing deck on the stern when he was stopped dead in his tracks and had to do a double take because he eyes were definitely playing tricks on him.

You were the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

And he swore for a minute time slowed down as you flashed the most gorgeous smile at some Junior Officer as you laughed along with whatever undoubtedly stupid joke he’d told you. All while the wind played with the ends of your hair.

You looked like such nice girl, such a good girl in your pretty light blue sundress.

The sun was bouncing off your shoulders and the little ruffle at the hem was taunting him with the way it danced around your thighs. It coasted over your curves like water, and fit you just snug enough that there wouldn’t be any Marilyn Monroe moments on deck, much to his disappointment. But the blow was cushioned by the stunning display of your smooth, shapely legs.

From the way your breasts bounced as you walked, he knew there was no way in hell you had a bra on under that little dress.

He’s never been able to resist a bad girl wrapped up like the girl-next-door.

From the second he saw you, he knew you were just his type.

And for the first time that day Bradley is grateful to be wearing the crisp, pressed Summer Whites.

He knew how good his biceps looked in the short sleeves of his uniform. And the way his pants clung to his legs and ass. He’d been spending a lot of his free time in the gym lately and it showed.

He never did mind playing An Officer and a Gentleman when the occasion presented itself, he was always happy to help fuel some fantasies.

The last time he had worn this uniform out during Fleet Week he ended up going home with an absolute smokeshow, so hopefully whatever appeal his uniform had for him back then can still work for him now.

Fleet Week was finally looking up for him.

However, what he didn’t like was the fact that the butterbar was still dominating your attention.

He wanted that smile turned on him. Wanted to see if the look in your bright eyes would be just as playful with your gaze pinned on him instead. He wanted to be the one making you laugh.

It’s not like he’s going to go over there and lick your face like a kid might try and claim dibs on a cupcake.

No, he was going to act in accordance to his rank and station as an Officer in the United States Navy.

Securing the white cap on his head from where it’s been tucked under his arm at every opportunity he’s had that day, he straightens up to his full height and purposefully struts over to you.

Bradley’s never been one to shy away from making an entrance.

He forcefully taps the younger officer’s shoulder, and glances down when the guy turns around to get a look at his name tag.

“Ensign Hubbard, you’re up for civilian tour duties. The next one is due to start at 1400,” he looks down at his watch for dramatic effect, “Which is in about 10 minutes on the starboard bow, so you best get going if you don’t want to be late, junior.”

He might feel a little guilty for springing this on the kid if it wasn’t entirely within his right to assign him the nonexistent task 684 feet in the opposite direction- a fact he learned in preparation for giving tours all day- and away from you.

Especially when he sees how flustered the guy gets as he rushes through his salute and the stammered apologies he gives you before he takes off in a brisk jog heading towards the other side of the ship.

He stands up a bit taller and makes himself a bit broader as your eyes sweep over him.

“Apologies for interrupting, ma’am. But I’d be happy to pick up where the Ensign has left off.”

There’s no missing the appraising interest in them as you take him in.

“The tours are starting at the front of the ship now, are they?” you muse out loud with a little tilt of your head. “What are all those folks over there are lining up for then, I wonder?”

You point deliberately to the group of people who are currently being greeted by the Lieutenant who was scheduled to relieve Rooster of tour duties for the next hour.

“Mm, that sure is a mystery. But Hubbard seems like a smart kid, I wouldn’t worry too much about him.” He shrugs with an unapologetic smirk on his face.

You lift a pointed eyebrow at him.

“So, you sent him away…” the almost-but-not-quite question trailing in the breeze.

“I sent him away,” he readily agrees with a nod. His eyes catch on a golden heart-shaped locket that you’re wearing around that dainty neck as it glints in the sunlight.

A smug smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you notice where his eyes have dropped too, “You’re not even going to deny it, Sailor?”

“Nope,” he says with a grin. “And actually, it’s Lieutenant Commander.”

“Ok, Lieutenant.”

“Commander.”

You hmm contemplatively like his rank was somehow up for debate, toying with that damn little heart-shaped locket in a way that was tempting his eyes to drift further down.

Rooster didn’t think it could be possible, but you’re even prettier up close. He knew you’d be stunning, but he couldn’t have prepared himself for the way your mischievous eyes sparkled magnetically. Or for the warmth spreading in his chest with the way you are broadly smiling at him now.

The top buttons of your dress are undone one more than would be strictly considered family friendly. But Bradley wasn’t bothered by that in the least.

Clearing his throat, he notes, “It’s a nice day for a sail.”

“Ensign Hubbard and I already covered that rather riveting subject earlier,” you tease while looking at him like well, what else have you got.

“Let me try again then.” If you wanted him to put in the work, he was more than up for the challenge. “What brings you for a casual five-hour cruise down the coast on one of the Pacific Fleet’s finest?”

“Now that’s not something we got to before he was telling me about what his ribbons meant in great detail,” you say with a laugh. “Would you believe me if I said I had a deep appreciation for $1.6 billion-dollar ships purchased with Uncle Sam’s defense budget?”

He gives you a half smile as he pretends to contemplate it for a moment, “You know, for some reason, I can’t say that I would.”

“Well, shucks,” you say with an over exaggerated shrug. “What about if I said I was roped into waking up at an ungodly hour to catch a flight up here because my best friend’s boyfriend is a Naval aviator and she wanted me to keep her company for the ‘casual five-hour cruise’, as you called it.”

“Now that I believe,” he drawled. “So, what’s his name?”

“Well, she calls him Jacob. He has one of those silly callsigns too, but I always forget it,” you scrunch your nose adorably as you search for it, “Something-man.”

“You mean Bagman?”

“Yeah, that sounds right.”

He smirks to himself.

“I take it you know him then?” You wait for his nod before looking up at him from under your lashes and asking him, “Does that mean you have a callsign too?”

“Yes, ma’am. It’s Rooster.”

He doesn’t miss the way you glance down, and he definitely doesn’t hold back his pointed smirk waiting for your eyes to meet his again.

And when he gives you a cocky raise of his eyebrow, all you do is shrug.

You didn’t just look like his type, you are exactly his type.

“Rooster Bradshaw, huh?” you ask, reaching out to tap a finger on rectangular name tag on his chest. “I take it you have a first name, Lieutenant Commander?”

“Sure do,” he drawls, “But it only seems fair that I get yours in return.”

You grin knowingly at him. His cheek ticks up as you stick your hand out towards him and give him your name. It’s pretty and suits you perfectly.

Bradley says it out loud savoring the syllables in his mouth as he shakes your outstretched hand. And he gives you his in exchange.

He likes how much smaller your hand looks in his.

“Since it seems like your friend has ditched you, what do you say about getting a tour? Not to brag, but I’ve been doing it all day and I’ve got it down to a science now.”

“A private tour? Lucky me,” you purr. “Lead the way Lieutenant Commander Bradley Rooster Bradshaw.”

You knew what you were doing, he’d give you that. And he was eating it up with a spoon ready to ask for second, third, and fourth helpings.

It’s less busy on the flight deck, as people are collecting around the grills waiting for their turn in the buffet lines for the late lunch.

He starts off by showing you his aircraft, giving you a brief rundown of its features.

You run a hand over the body of his fighter jet as he wraps up his now well-practiced spiel, “Do I even want to know how much taxpayer money contributed to this?”

“It depends. Does your appreciation for Uncle Sam’s defense collection extend to F/A-18s too? Or is that strictly reserved for amphibious transport vessels?”

“I’ll keep you posted after I get the full tour,” you say coyly.

“Well then, I shouldn’t keep a lady waiting then. Should I?”

“No, you certainly should not,” you agree.

He guides you past the table that’s set up with squadron memorabilia for people to buy and to the door with a hand on your low back. He’s close enough to smell your perfume now, he wants to bury his nose in your neck to inhale the scent directly from the source.

Rooster navigates the two of you like a pro through the narrow passageways as he takes you to the mess hall where coffee and pre-sliced cakes awaited tour guests. From there he takes you to the galley, the wheelhouse, the engine control room, the 24-bed hospital ward, and the massive hull used to transport heavy machinery.

You as him thoughtful questions every now and then. And he does his best to answer them. The two of you drift closer and closer, it doesn’t escape his notice the way you brush against him when you pass by to get a closer look at some of the things he shows you.

It’s easily his favorite tour of the day.

He loves the sound of your laugh as he tells you about some of the mischief that he and members of his squadron managed to avoid getting caught doing.

Along with some of the things that they did get caught doing.

Your teasing grin and witty banter and little sundress have done a number on him. And he isn’t ready to wrap this up by delivering you back on deck until the absolute last minute he has to resume his official tour duties again.

So when he circles back to the airwing, instead of turning left when he should, he leads you to the ladder that would take you down a level.

And he knows he shouldn’t, that he could get in some big trouble for showing you areas that weren’t explicitly on the official list of tour stops. But he’s always been more of the apologize later type.

Plus, he hasn’t been on this ship for very long, it’s not his fault if he manages to get conveniently turned around.

Bradley waits at the bottom of the steep ladder, actively looking anywhere else but up as you make your descent. When you’re at level with him, he helps you down the rest of the way with a steadying hand at your waist.

And when you turn around he doesn’t step back.

You reach up and run a playful finger along the brim of his cap, “So what’s a girl got to do to get a turn wearing the hat?”

His mind flashes with images of the last time he’d let a woman wear it.

“I’ll have you know this is technically Naval property, they don’t let just anyone have one. You usually have to earn it. But for you?” he pauses and gives you a heated once over, “I’ll let you try it on for free.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want any special treatment,” you say demurely. “But I think in this case, Uncle Sam would understand. I’m a model citizen after all.”

He takes the cap off of his head and gingerly sets it on yours, “You’re something else, that’s for sure.”

It slides forward down your head, “Oh, it’s heavier than it looks.” And Rooster wishes he had his phone on him to get a picture for himself. He likes the way you look wearing his things.

“Looks good on you,” he hums, letting his finger brush against that little locket around your neck.

You run a bold hand down his chest, “Where to next, Lieutenant?”

This time he doesn’t bother to correct you, he knows the game you’re playing now.

Instead he grips your hips and pushes you against the ladder and brings his mouth to yours.You make a noise of surprise before your arms are wrapping around his neck to pull him in closer.

The kiss starts out light and teasing. Your lips are so soft beneath his. He gently grazes his teeth against your lower lip, before gliding his tongue along the seam of your mouth seeking entrance. The sweep of your tongue against his is everything. The soft moans escaping you are making his pulse thrum in his veins.

It would be so easy for him to get lost in the feeling of your perfect body against his and of the way your fingers were playing with the short hairs on the nape of his neck. But he’s already pushing the limits bringing you down here, he can’t get distracted by kissing you out in the open where anyone could stumble upon the two of you.

The small whimper that you make when he pulls away makes him grin. As does the sight of his cap sitting crookedly on your head.

He thumbs at the lipstick that’s smudged at the side of your mouth, “C’mon, I’ve got one more place I want to show you.”

This time he takes your hand as he guides you down the gray passageway and through the door on the left.

The ready room on the USS Portland is much smaller than the one’s he is familiar with from the aircraft carriers he is usually on, but the set-up is mostly the same. There are a couple of projection screens adhered on the bulkheads and there are a few rows of leather seats with a swivel tray tables attached to the arm rests.

“Tell me what happens in here.” You ask him so genuinely, so sweetly and he already knows he wouldn’t stand a chance against you with the way you flutter those eyelashes at him.

So he tells you.

He likes that you want to know these details about his job, he likes that he gets to share this with you. Even if the clock is ticking down before he has to get back on deck.

Rooster watches the tantalizing way your sundress dances around your thighs as you walk around the space. You take a seat in one of the chairs in the front row and pull the desk top over you before turning to him with a beaming smile with his cap still perched on your head.

And he is hit with a wave of affection for you so intense that it makes it hard for him to breathe for a moment.

He’s grateful when you see something else that catches your eye, giving him a moment to get himself back under control. You’ve got him feeling like he should be on his knees for you.

In the spot where he is used to seeing a lectern, on this ship there is a glossy wooden table inlaid with the ship’s coat of arm that you standing over.

“Does every ship have their own unique crest? Do you know what the symbols are for?”

He really needs to figure out who put him on tour duty and send them an Edible Arrangement or something. And maybe one for whoever put together the ten-page packet of “fun facts” that he had rolled his eyes at when he had first seen it.

“Yes, ma’am, I sure do.” He comes up to stand behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder as his arms cage you in against the table. “Yes, all ships come with their own. It’s something that the prospective commanding officers are responsible for designing when new ships are about to be launched.”

You lean forward a bit, gazing your ass against him, “Dark blue and gold are traditional Navy colors, right?” He hums confirmation into your neck, as he runs his mustache along your soft skin. He feels more than hears your sharp inhale. “What does the gear on the anchor mean?”

He drops a kiss to your shoulder, “The cog is a symbol of manufacturing, a nod to the ship’s namesake and the city’s history for building ships in World War II.”

You grab his wrist and bring his arm across your body, he takes the hint and presses in closer into you. “And the trident?”

God, you feel so perfect in his arms. Your body is fitting against his like a dream.

“The black symbolizes determination,” he murmurs into the space where you neck and shoulder meet. “And the choice of the three prongs is because it’s the third ship to be given the name.”

You lean your head to the side, and he takes the opportunity to trail open-mouth kisses up your neck. Your nails bite into his forearm in response, as you rock back against his rapidly hardening cock. “And the rose?”

“Portland is the City of Roses.”

“Does it have any other meaning?” you ask soft and breathy.

“It represents strong ties, baby. It’s a symbol for the supportive partners and wives of those serving onboard,” he whispers low and sweet into your ear.

“Bradley,” you sigh as you turn your head towards him for a kiss. It’s desperate and wet. And he can almost taste the neediness of your moan on his tongue.

He’s never done anything like this while on duty on a ship before, and the thrill of it has his veins thrumming with adrenaline.

“You’ve had me hook, line and sinker since the damn second I saw you.” He grinds himself against your ass and you whimper at the contact. “What do you want from me? I’ll be so good to you, so good for you.”

“Want you to touch me,” you pant into his mouth, “Want you to fuck me, Rooster. It’s the only thing I’ve been able to think about.”

“Fuck me.” He can feel his pulse thundering in his throat.

“I’m trying to,” you whine.

He barks a strained laugh before he spins you around, crowds you into the table. He doesn’t waste any time getting his lips back on yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You meet him stroke for stroke, just like you’ve been doing since the moment he laid eyes on you.

“This fucking dress,” he groans when he cups your breast through your fabric, as you fill his palm in just the right way. You arch your chest into his hand, and he was feeling entirely too self-satisfied in the confirmation that you weren’t wearing a bra. “Knew you weren’t a good girl.”

“So why are you treating me like one?” you taunt, breathlessly. Your greedy hands go straight to his cock, squeezing him through his pants.

Your hand feels so good on him.

“God, you’re so much fucking trouble,” he rasps, throwing his head back.You lean forward and your hot mouth works against the hollow of his throat.

He’s trying to undo some of the tiny buttons that line the front of your dress, but the teasing way your tongue is dipping out to trace the line of his tendon is making it hard for him to think.

“Are you gonna show me how you got that silly, little callsign of yours or not?” You give him one more squeeze, before bringing your hands up to the button of his white pants.

He knocks your hands out of the way before roughly grabbing your ass and hauls you firmly against him, “That feel little to you?”

Your gasp makes his fingertips dig further into your ass. The pretty color of your eyes has been completely eclipsed by your heavy, dark pupils. He can feel the way your thighs clench together.

“You want my attention? You’ve got it, baby,” he roughly rasps, “Go on then, show me how bad you can be.”

He dips his head down for a filthy, hungry kiss.

You push him back with a hand to his chest and a gleam in your eyes. You hold his heated gaze as you slowly undo his zipper and reach into his boxer briefs to pull him out. He moans when your thumb sweeps over the top of his cock.

Rooster thinks for a second that you’re going to drop to your knees for him, the mental image of you looking up at him with those doe-eyes is enough to make his jaw clench with desire. Especially with the way your sundress is gaping open at the top, giving him a clear view of the swells of your breasts.

Instead, you surprise him by bending over that glossy table and shimmying the skirt of your dress up over your luscious hips.

“Holy shit.”

You’re wearing the smallest, laciest little thong he’s ever fucking seen.

The band is a series of crisscrossed straps attached to some intricate and dainty floral lace. The juxtaposition of it against your skin is enough to make his ears ring. He’ll be dreaming of the way you’re enticingly arching your ass towards him for months.

And he’ll sure as shit never be able to be in a Ready Room again without getting a hard-on. The memory of you bent over the table before him will forever be ingrained in his brain.

“Is this bad enough for you, Lieutenant Commander?” You shoot him a grin over your shoulder as you wiggle your hips invitingly.

That sultry smile is swiped from your face the moment his large hand connects with your perfect ass. The sound echoes throughout the small room. He palms you once more before he yanks down your barely-there thong.

“Gonna fuck that attitude right out of you.”

Giving himself a few rough pumps, he lines himself up and slides into you with one steady thrust.

You both release an unrestrained groan of the sensation of him filling your warm, wet cunt. He barely gives you a moment to adjust to the size of him before he starts moving.

“’s big,” you sigh shakily.

“Tell me how much you like this cock.”

He slaps your pert ass again when you release a breathy whimper instead of answering him.

“Feels good, Rooster.” Your hands are struggling to find a way to support yourself as he fucks into you. “You feel so good.”

He pushes your dress higher up your body, his eyes are greedy for more of your skin. What he wouldn’t give to have you entirely naked and spread out before him. He wants to see all of you, he wants to hear you loud and needy for him.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he murmurs as he watches himself smoothly gliding in and out of you.

The little noises you are making are driving him crazy. He knows you’re trying to muffle your sweet moans and sighs and whines. The sound of your bodies coming together fills the room.

How his cap is still perched on your head he doesn’t know, it jostles every time your bodies come together.

“I need more,” you beg, “Need you to touch me.”

“Ask me nicely.” He punctuates the demand with a sharp snap of his hips.

“Please, Bradley. Please.”

He slides his hand around to the front of you, his fingers drawn to your clit like a magnet. You keen at the contact and tilt your hips into his hand. The sound is music to his ears, “That’s more like it.”

He doesn’t think there’s anything else better on the planet than being buried in your perfect pussy. You’re so wet for him. He already knows he’s going to need more of this, more of you.

“You’re taking me so well,” Bradley grunts as he speeds up his thrusts, “Looks like all you needed was a nice, thick cock. Just a sweet thing now, aren’t you?”

“Oh my god,” you gasp as you writhe against him. “F-fuck.”

He is so turned on by the way his hands span across you as he grips your waist and pulls you against him with every roll of his hips. His heart is racing in his chest.

The feeling of your body tensing around him is paradise. There is nothing he wants more than to be able to draw this out, but he is all too aware of how quickly time is slipping away from him.

He sets a rough and unrelenting pace. Redoubling his efforts on your clit, his indulgent strokes turn into tight, purposeful circles. And you cry out at the change of sensation on that sensitive part of you.

Your thighs start to tremble as his cock drags against that spot deep inside of you. The heat is pooling in his lower back as he fucks into you over and over again.

“Rooster, I’m gonna-”

“I know, baby. Let me feel it,” he murmurs hotly against your ear, his thumb rubbing back and forth across your clit. “Come on my cock like a good girl.”

The goosebumps erupt across your body like fireworks a moment before he feels you shiver and tremble beneath him as you come with a choked sob. The way you spasm and clench around him is dizzying.

Bradley is teetering on the edge, your cunt felt like heaven. Warm and wet and gripping him just right. He almost doesn’t want to give himself up to it as the pressure at the base of his spine intensified. He doesn’t want to stop fucking you.

You’re so perfect for him.

He loses himself to the feeling of your pussy milking him as you continue to pulse and writhe in the aftershocks of your orgasm. He grips your hips harder as he pounds into you before emptying himself inside of you with a shattered groan.

And for a moment all he can hear is the blood rushing in his ears as he works to catch his breath. Rooster feels like his knees might buckle as the soft whimper you make when he pulls out of you.

He gently pulls that lacy little thong back up and helps to pull your dress back down over your hips and thighs before turning you around and lifting you onto the custom table.

He doesn’t know how he is going to make it through the rest of the journey knowing his come is collecting in your panties.

You’re flushed and looking thoroughly well-fucked as you smile up at him brightly.

Bradley threads his finger under the chain of your little gold heart-shaped locket that was etched with a rose in full bloom, and lightly tugs you in closer for a lingering kiss.

“I see you found your gift early, baby.”

Bradley would never forget the first time he saw you that night at the bar downtown last year during Fleet Week.

He had noticed you right away, it had been impossible not to. You and your girlfriends had been all done up in hot pink outfits for the Bachelorette party you were out celebrating.

Your friend had flounced right up to Jake taking the shot of whiskey out of his hand before swallowing it down then cheekily offering to buy him a replacement. Hangman had been wrapped around her finger ever since.

While your friends had all but shoved you in his direction while he had looked on entirely entertained as you had shot a scathing glare back at them. A sparkling tiara that read Bridesmaid sat crookedly on your head.

And then you had greeted him with a “Hey, Sailor” so weak that the couldn’t help but let out an amused laugh. There was a split second where he thought that he might have fucked it up before it could even start, but then you smiled back at him.

It was a charmingly self-deprecating smile and he was yours from the moment he saw it.

“Hiding it in your nightstand next to the batteries wasn’t the most original of spots, Rooster,” you affectionately tease him. “I didn’t mean to peek, but the remote stopped working. I hope you’re not mad. I love it.”

He could never be mad at you, especially not with his necklace around your neck. You were his, and he was so gone for you.

“It looks so pretty on you,” he tells you softly as his fingers brush over your collarbones.

“Oh my god, Rooster, I can’t we defiled Naval property.” You giggle as you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer to circle your arms around his neck.

“I hate to break it to you, but you’ve been defiling Naval property ever since you brought me home with you the night we met.”

You take that cap off of your head and set it back on his, and lean in to kiss him on the cheek, “Glad I’m getting a good return on my taxes then.”

He snorts a laugh, “God, I’ve missed you, baby. What are doing here? I thought you weren’t coming until the end of the week.”

“And miss the visual and culinary offerings of the USS Portland? I wouldn’t dream of it.” You joke as you run your hands along his arms where they’re pressed on the table on either side of you. “This uniform drives me just as crazy as it did last year.”

“Just the uniform?” he asks as he nudges his nose against yours.

“Maybe it has a little something to do with the man in the uniform,” you make a little hum as you check him out. “You’re so tan, Bradley, have you been using the sunscreen I sent with you-”

He crushes his mouth to yours, you were undoubtedly best thing that’s ever happened to him during Fleet Week.

“I’m glad I still do it for you,” he murmurs against your mouth before giving you another deep kiss.

The two of you work quickly to get yourselves looking presentable again. He’s only got a little time left before he is due to return to his tour duties back on deck.

He helps you back up the ladder and takes that left turn when he’s supposed to this time. All while your hand is tucked securely in his.

When you’re both back on the open flight deck he walks you over to the railing along the edge of the ship and wraps you up in his arms to watch the coastline crawl by with his last few moments of freedom.

“I really love Fleet Week,” you say with a contented sigh, as you lean your head back against his shoulder.

The golden rays from the sun are hitting you in a way that makes his chest warm.

“I do too, baby. It’s the best.”

Yeah, Rooster fucking loves Fleet Week.

Who doesn’t love a man in Summer Whites?! Consider this my formal petition for more Dress Whites in TG3!

Thank you for reading!

Hey, Sailor Moodboard

A peek inside the USS Portland One | Two

If you’re curious, here is some info on the crest I found! One | Two | Three

You can check out my other stories and series here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @itscheybaby @prettylittlelauraa @startrekfangirl2233 @marantha @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @itsizzythebell @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @boltgirl426 @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @torres-espana @uzumegui @dont-talk-me-down @fandomunite2107 @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pariahsparadise @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @nina-sj @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @misty-inferno @angellwingsss @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @mrsdaamneron @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @melllinaa @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @mandolin22 @imaginecrushes

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader

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vicsnook · 7 months

Text

Backseat Lovin’ | Bob Floyd x Reader

word count: 1544

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI 18+, Drinking

notes: Hi y’all! I’ve been back on my Bob quick lately after seeing the promo for lessons of chemistry so here’s a little something something 😏. Hope y’all enjoy & don’t forget to like/reblog. Got some Rhett fics coming soon btw!

Bob was sitting in the sand reading a book while the squad played a game of dogfight football when you spot him. His brows furrowed as he read, making you chuckle which made him look at you and give you a small wave before returning to his book. You blushed at having been caught staring but waved back. For months you’ve been dropping hints that you like Bob but he seemed oblivious to it. Penny called you back in from your break so you snuck one more glance at the clueless WSO and headed back in.

The A/C did little to cool the heat as you washed off some glasses at the bar. Thankfully you’d worn a tank top today but were not enjoying the extra attention that came with that. “What can I get ya?” you asked Bob, who had just taken a seat in front of you.

“I’ll take a beer.”

Since you met Bob, he always ordered a lemonade and despite the insistence of Hangman and Rooster, he’d never drank alcohol. You set down the now dry glass and look up at him, arching an eyebrow in question. He gave you a half-smile as he shrugged his shoulders in response. You could feel him eyeing you as you reached for the bottle opener.

6 beers later Bob’s half-smile was replaced by a mischievous grin. He went to ask you for another beer but was cut short by Hangman whose hand he noticed lingered way longer than it needed to when you handed him a drink. As he stood up to go to the restroom, the alcohol rushed to his head, making him stumble and nearly trip over a stool.

“Hey Bob, you alright?” You ask him, watching as he waves you off and continues to stumble until he finally makes it to the restroom. “I wonder what’s gotten into him.” You murmur to Hangman who was still looking in the direction Bob went.

Hangman turned back to you, giving you one of his know it all looks and his million dollar smile that you hated before saying, “He’s just trying to work up the courage to ask you out, y/n.” You stood there stunned, as Hangman chuckled and walked away. Maybe all the hints you’d dropped finally would pay off tonight.

Half an hour later, you noticed Bob still wasn’t back from the restroom so you flagged down Penny and went on your break to check on Bob. Knocking on the men’s bathroom door, no sound came from the other side, so you turn the knob and it was luckily unlocked.

“Bob?”

He was sitting on the floor leaning against a stall nearly passed out. When shaking him, he looks up at you and reaches up to tuck your hair behind your ear. “I’ve been wanting to do that,” the tip of his ears turn pink at the admission as you help him up to his feet. “Why didn’t you?”

“Too chicken.” He drank the glasses of water you passed him throughout the rest of the night without complaint, sobering up slowly. If you learned one thing about him tonight was that he was a lightweight.

Everyone was almost gone by now except the dagger squad who were still playing pool. You finished wiping all the tables down and turned around to put up chairs when you noticed Bob was already halfway through doing so. He smiled at you when you caught his eye and continued until it was all done.

“I’ll stay guys, gotta walk Y/N to her car,” Bob told the group after you’d cash them out. It wasn't the first time he stayed behind to walk you to your car but today you were more nervous than usual as he followed you out and watched you lock the back door.

Your words caught in your throat as you turned around to find Bob right in front of you. His eyes looked down to your lips and before you could say anything his lips were latching onto yours. He kisses you softly at first but then it turns desperate and you have to hold onto him to not lose your balance. He pulls you closer to him as you run your fingers through his hair and a moan escapes your lips as you feel his growing bulge against your thigh.

You manage to slide your hand between your bodies, cupping him through his pants. That action alone has him pushing you against the back door and dipping his head to kiss your neck. “Follow me to the truck,” he whispers in your ear.

His truck was parked on the side of the Hard Deck which was not illuminated and was the perfect private spot since it couldn’t be seen from the road. You take his hand and climb into the back seat closing the door behind you. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks, and you respond by straddling his lap.

His hands grip your ass as you grind against him. “I need to hear you say it honey.” He whispers, kissing your jaw softly. “Yes,” you respond, tilting your head as he trails kisses down your neck and you’re almost certain you’ve soaked through your shorts as he continues to rub against your clit with his bulge.

He slides his hands under your shirt and kneads your breasts and you want him even more now. “Bob I want you,” you manage to say and he’s kissing you rougher now, biting your bottom lip as he pulls away to lift you off his lap so you can slide off your shorts.

He sets you back down on his clothed bulge and rocks you back and forth even harder than before. “Good girl,” he whispers in your ear as you match his pace and feel yourself getting closer. Your grip on his hair tightens and he presses you down against him even more. But it’s when kisses than one spot of your neck though that you are pushed over the edge.

He holds you close as you ride out your orgasm and is careful setting you onto the seat beside him as he unbuckles his belt and pulls down his jeans. You blush at the soaked spot in the front. His cock springs free and you feel a shiver go down your spine at the sight of it. You’d heard the rumors that he was well endowed but didn’t know until know how much truth that held.

He ripped open the condom and slid it on then reached out to help you position yourself over him. The tip of his cock pressed at your entrance and you slowly slid on to it, moaning at the feeling of it stretching you open. His breathing was heavy as he tried not to buck up into you.

You set a slow pace, moving up and down as he holds on to your hips and his lips catch yours. The tip of his cock hits your g-spot repeatedly and you throw your head back in pleasure. He wraps his arms around you and begins to thrust up into you sharply. Your nails dig into his back and you try to keep up with his pace but as you feel your high coming, you increase the pace.

Your moans fill the car and he feels you clench around him. He kisses along neck and collarbones, anything he can get his lips on as you move faster. “I’m so close,” you wail as he circles your clit with his thumb.

“Cum for me baby,” he commands, circling your clit faster as you ride him erratically. Your legs start to shake as you reach your high and he continues thrusting into you through your orgasm. You pulse around his cock and he reaches his high too, pulling you closer to his chest as he comes.

Both of you are out panting, as he slowly pulls you off him and you settle in the seat beside him. He takes off the condom and carefully pulls his pants back up, running outside quickly to dispose of it. He gets a pack of wipes from the front console once he’s back and cleans you up, kissing the side of your thigh as he slides your underwear and shorts back on. You smile lazily at him and take his outstretched hand, your legs wobbling when they hit the asphalt.

He pulls you close to him and gives you a soft kiss and he knows at that moment that he wants this not once but for the rest of his life. You lay your head on his chest and smile, hoping this leads to more. “Can I drive you home? I can bring you tomorrow to get your car,” he asks and you nod happily.

As you reach your house, you’ve made up your mind so when he walks you to the door, you pull him inside your house with you. He follows with no hesitation and kicks off his jeans, joining you to cuddle in bed. “Can I take you out tomorrow?” he mumbles sleepily, kissing the top of your head. “Absolutely.” You reply, drifting off to sleep happily in the arms of Bob Floyd.

#top gun fandom #top gun maverick #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #bob floyd smut

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bradshawsbaby · 10 months

Text

Homecomings and Heart-to-Hearts

Pairing: Rooster x Wife!Reader

Summary: Bradley returns home from a mission carrying the weight of a burden he doesn’t know how to set down.

Word Count: 6.4k

Author’s Note: I was inspired to write this story after watching Miles’ performance in Thank You for Your Service. The idea came to me right as I was going to sleep, and I couldn’t get it out of head.

Warnings: Angst, deployment, references to injuries sustained during a mission, near-death experience, implied sex, allusions to breastfeeding, insecurities, hurt/comfort, family fluff.

Every deployment and mission was different. And that meant that every homecoming was different, too.

You and Bradley had both learned to expect the unexpected when it came to orders from the Navy. Despite the fact that your husband was permanently stationed on North Island, it was always possible that he was going to receive instructions for a special mission or deployment at any given time. That’s what happened when you were one of the Navy’s top fighter pilots. No matter how many times you tried to remind yourself that that’s just how it was, however, it never got any easier.

Six weeks ago, the orders had come in for a classified mission that required the skills and experience of the best of the best. You had been able to tell the news as soon as Bradley walked through your apartment door, before he had even been able to open his mouth or put down his things. It was written all over his face.

“They’re sending you away?” you asked softly, trying to keep your voice from shaking as you rocked your four-month-old son in your arms. It was always painful when Bradley left, but this would be his first deployment since Nicholas had been born and you didn’t know what you were going to do without him. The thought alone had your heart racing and tears filling your eyes.

“Only for six weeks,” Bradley rushed to reassure you, dropping his bag to the floor and immediately wrapping an arm around your shoulders, his other hand coming up to support the back of Nick’s head as he dropped a kiss onto your son’s forehead. “I’ll be back before you even know I’m gone,” he tried to smile, running his fingers through your hair as he leaned in to give you a kiss as well.

You knew he was just saying that to comfort you, but you almost wanted to laugh at how ridiculous the notion was. As if you wouldn’t feel his absence every second he was gone. You would be counting down the minutes until his return from the moment you saw him off, and the apartment would feel empty and cold until he was back to hold you and Nick in his arms once more.

“I’m coming home to you, honey, I promise,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple as he lifted Nick out of your arms and cradled him close to his chest. “Don’t let him get too big while I’m gone,” he added, trying to swallow back his own emotion as your son wrapped his hands around one of his fingers and babbled up at him, a little bit of drool dribbling down his chin.

This would be Bradley’s first time having to say goodbye to both you and your baby boy, and you knew the thought of it killed him. Behind his golden brown eyes, you could see the ghosts of his past haunting him, and you knew he was thinking of all the times his dad had had to say goodbye. Right up until that final time.

“I’m going to take pictures every day,” you whispered, resting your head against his shoulder as the two of you gazed down at your perfect little miracle, who was now chewing on Bradley’s finger while staring up at you with eyes that were identical to his father’s. “Videos, too. You’re not going to miss a single thing.”

Bradley turned to look at you, and in his eyes you could see the same skepticism you had felt when he told you you wouldn’t even know he was gone. And yet, he nodded and smiled slowly, kissing you again. “I’m going to miss the two of you so much,” he murmured softly, sighing as he rested his forehead against yours.

“We’re going to miss you, too,” you told him, your eyes welling up once more. “But like you said, it’s only six weeks, right? The time will fly by,” you lied, trying to be strong. You knew he needed you to be strong.

“Yeah,” Bradley nodded, rocking Nicholas back and forth as your son’s eyes started to flutter closed. “It’s gonna fly by real quick.”

Time hadn’t flown by. In fact, it had felt like the longest six weeks of your life. Every time you started to set the table for two, or woke up in the middle of the night to feed Nick and saw the empty space beside you in your bed, your heart broke all over again and you couldn’t help the tears that escaped and coursed their way down your cheeks. Communication with Bradley was almost nonexistent, and the truth was that you didn’t even know where in the world your husband was. The mission was classified for a reason, which meant that even you weren’t privy to all that it entailed.

Every time your phone rang, the hairs on the back of your neck rose and you could feel your stomach drop out from under you. You were terrified it was going to be Vice Admiral Simpson, informing you that something had happened to Bradley during the mission. One night, you felt so anxious that you actually turned your cell phone off and slept in the nursery with Nick, trying to push away all the intrusive thoughts of what could be happening to your husband and all the ways the mission could go wrong.

But all of that worry and anxiety was over now because Bradley was coming home today.

You had been up all night last night, preparing all his favorite foods and desserts to celebrate his homecoming. And this morning, you’d been up before the sun, too excited to get much sleep.

“Daddy’s coming today, Nick!” you’d cooed happily as you lifted your son out of the crib and got him ready for the day. It was his very first homecoming experience, and you wanted it to be a special one.

Decked out in his “Daddy’s Wingman” onesie and shorts, and a pair of baby aviators you had found online a few weeks ago, Nicholas looked just as handsome as his father as he rested on your hip at the hangar, where you were waiting with all the other Navy families anticipating their loved ones’ return.

“Daddy’s going to be here so soon,” you told your son, bouncing him gently with one arm as you held the Welcome Home, Daddy! sign you’d finished the other night with your free hand.

Nicholas giggled softly and wiggled in your hold, but you barely felt his movements over the erratic beating of your own heart. No matter how many homecomings you had attended over the years, it was always like this. Every time you stood there to welcome Bradley home, it felt like the first time. You just couldn’t wait to hug him and kiss him and hold him in your arms again.

“They’re coming! They’re coming!” a little boy exclaimed excitedly, bouncing up and down as he pointed in the distance and then looked back at his mother.

An excited buzz filled the air as the news filtered across the hangar, everyone standing on their tiptoes and shielding their eyes to try to get a glimpse of their husband, wife, father, mother, brother, or sister. Even after all this time, it sometimes still baffled you just how many people it took to man an aircraft carrier.

It took a few moments, but amidst all the happy reunions happening around you, you finally caught sight of Bradley and the other Daggers making their way through the crowd.

“Nick, look!” you exclaimed happily, pointing in the direction of your husband as your son slowly followed your gaze. “It’s Daddy!”

As Bradley and the others came closer, however, you noticed that while they were smiling, they all had strained looks on their faces, exhausted lines around their eyes and mouths. They were happy to be home, but something had happened. That much was clear.

Your stomach did an uncomfortable flip when you looked from face to face and realized instantly that one was missing.

Where was Coyote?

Bradley didn’t stop or slow down as he approached you and Nick, just immediately barreled into you and wrapped you both tightly in his arms. You could feel the tension still radiating through him as he buried his face in your neck, inhaling the scent of your skin and the perfume he loved so much on you.

“God, I missed you so much,” he mumbled, his mustache tickling your skin as he pressed his lips to the side of your neck.

“We missed you, too,” you whispered back, squeezing your eyes shut and clinging to him with your free arm.

The two of you stood there like that for what felt like ages, just holding one another, until Nick finally began squirming and fussing against your side.

Pulling back, Bradley smiled and took Nick into his arms, peppering his face with kisses. “Hey, buddy,” he greeted him, chuckling as he noted the baby aviators that were now sitting askew on your son’s face. “Cool outfit,” he told him, running his hand over his belly. “Look how big you got. I told Mommy not to let you get so big,” he teased, glancing over at you and smiling.

It was a tired smile.

“You must be so exhausted. We should get you home,” you said gently, resting a hand on his back. You still had an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach that you couldn’t quite shake. You glanced over at where the rest of the Dagger Squad was loosely scattered, and noticed that Coyote still hadn’t joined them. Was he still on the carrier? “Is everybody doing okay?” you asked quietly.

Bradley looked down at you and could see instantly where your attention was focused. “Coyote’s being taken to the infirmary,” he replied, his voice low. There was a heaviness in his tone that had you whipping your head back in his direction right away.

“Is everything alright?” you questioned, growing worried. You thought of Coyote’s happy-go-lucky smile and infectious laughter and immediately wanted to cry at the thought of anything happening to him.

Your husband was quiet for a moment, shifting your son in his arms and looking over at the other Daggers before directing his focus back to you. “He got struck by enemy fire while we were over there. It didn’t take long for search and rescue to find him, and he’s going to be okay, but they want to monitor him on base for a couple days.”

You didn’t know how to feel about that news. On the one hand, you were of course thrilled to hear that Coyote was safe and was going to be okay. But on the other hand, it was horrifying to be so bluntly reminded of the risks and dangers that your husband and friends faced every time they were deployed for a mission.

Wordlessly, you wrapped your arms around Bradley’s waist and buried your face in his chest, inhaling the scent of jet fuel and aftershave. You were comforted by the feel of his strong arms wrapping around you, and of your son’s chubby fingers tangling in your hair.

“C’mon, let’s go home,” Bradley murmured against the top of your head, slipping his hand into yours as he allowed you to lead him to where you and Nick had parked the car.

It was a quieter homecoming than many of the ones you had experienced in the past, the stark reality of Coyote’s injury still hanging over Bradley like a shroud. He was almost completely silent during the drive home, and only managed to get down a few bites of the lunch you’d prepared before he was slipping into the shower and crawling into bed.

“I’m sorry, baby, it tastes amazing, but I’m just so exhausted,” he murmured, squeezing your hip and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“It’s okay, I understand. Get some rest,” you told him, watching him out of the corner of your eye as you began clearing the table.

He ended up sleeping for the whole rest of the day, and all the way through the night. Sometimes you forgot how much these missions took out of him, both physically and emotionally.

The next morning, Bradley was up before you were, making a couple cups of coffee and heating up the breakfast you’d made the other day.

“Mmm, morning,” you mumbled sleepily, your eyes still half-closed as you stumbled into the kitchen, wearing a pair of sweatshorts and one of Bradley’s UVA Alumni T-shirts.

“Morning, honey,” Bradley greeted you, planting a kiss on your lips before taking a sip of his coffee and reaching for the toast that had just popped. “Here you go,” he added, sliding a mug of freshly brewed coffee towards you, prepared just the way you liked it.

“This is a nice way to wake up,” you grinned, lifting the mug—Bradley had chosen your personal favorite—and blowing gently before taking a tentative sip. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a rock,” Bradley chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m sorry I slept all night, baby. I know you had dinner ready, and I really wanted to spend time with you and Nick,” he apologized.

“It’s okay,” you insisted, shaking your head. “We’re still here, and we’re not going anywhere, so don’t worry. I’m just glad you were able to get some rest.” You paused for a moment, setting down your coffee mug, before asking, “Any updates on Coyote?”

Bradley sighed softly, running his fingers through his hair so that his dark locks stood up at a funny angle. “Yeah, he actually texted all of us this morning. He’s doing a lot better, and feeling good, so they’re probably going to release him soon.”

You let out a relieved breath. “Well that’s good,” you said, stepping closer to your husband. Glancing up, you noticed that there was still a troubled expression on his face. “Bradley, are you okay?”

“Hm?” he asked distractedly, his eyes clearing as he looked at you. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, probably still just a little out of it after the trip home.”

Biting your lower lip, you watched as he turned and began buttering his toast. “Okay. But you’d tell me if something was bothering you, right?” You could only imagine the toll it had taken on him, witnessing one of his closest friends being shot down by enemy missiles.

“Of course,” Bradley nodded, kissing your cheek before carrying his food and his coffee to the table and taking a seat.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was still something he wasn’t saying, but you decided to let the matter rest for the time being, sitting down opposite your husband and enjoying a little bit of uninterrupted time before Nicholas woke up.

The rest of the day was peaceful and uneventful. Bradley had a couple weeks of leave now that he had returned from the mission, which meant that he got to spend all day with you and Nick. You couldn’t even put into words how much it warmed your heart to watch Bradley as he lay on the floor to play and do tummy time with Nick.

“I seriously can’t get over how big he’s gotten,” Bradley marveled, his eyes widening as your son rolled from his back to his stomach with ease, and then pushed up from his tummy onto his elbows. “Look at that, honey! He wasn’t doing that when I left!”

Smiling, you nodded as you sat down beside them on the living room floor. “I took him to the pediatrician just last week, and he gained another pound and a half since his last check-up. Dr. McCarthy says he’s hitting all his milestones. He just started rolling over like that a couple weeks ago.”

A trace of sadness passed over Bradley’s face as he gazed down at your baby boy. “I’m sorry that I missed it,” he murmured, reaching out to stroke Nick’s downy head. His hair was starting to come in thick and dark, just like his daddy’s.

“I took lots of videos,” you promised, reaching out to lightly squeeze your husband’s shoulder. “I don’t want you to ever feel like you’ve missed out on anything.”

Bradley took your hand in his and pressed a kiss to the back of it, smiling up at you. “Thank you, baby.”

The remainder of the afternoon flew by quickly, and after putting Nicholas down for the night, you and Bradley spent the rest of the evening making up for lost time and showing one another just how much you’d missed the other.

“I love you so much,” you whispered against his bare shoulder, pressing kisses to the scar that lacerated his skin.

“I love you, too, honey,” Bradley whispered in return, squeezing you tightly as he drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, when you awoke, Bradley was still fast asleep beside you. He didn’t even stir as you climbed out of bed to go check on Nick in the nursery. As you were sitting in the rocking chair, nursing your son, your phone began buzzing with text messages from Penny. A couple deliveries for The Hard Deck had gotten delayed, and she was wondering if you were free to run some errands with her that afternoon. You assured her that you would check with Bradley and get back to her as soon as possible.

Just as you rose to find a change of clothes for the baby, Bradley stepped into the nursery, a sleepy smile on his face. “Morning, my loves,” he murmured, kissing you and then pressing a kiss to the top of Nick’s head.

“Nicholas, can you say, ‘Good morning, Daddy?’” you teased, bouncing your son on your hip as you took one of his hands and waved it in Bradley’s direction.

Nick gurgled happily in response, and both you and Bradley laughed.

“Any big plans for the day?” Bradley asked, lifting the baby into his arms so that you could go through the dresser drawers and pick out an outfit for him to wear.

“Actually Penny was just texting me. She wanted to know if I was free to help her run a few errands this afternoon. Would that be okay?” you asked, laying out a simple blue and white striped onesie for Nick.

Turning, you glanced up at Bradley. He seemed to be doing better since he’d first arrived home. He wasn’t as tense or preoccupied, and his mood had improved considerably when he learned that Coyote had been officially discharged from the infirmary. But still, you knew how much of a handful the baby could be when you had to take care of him all on your own, and you didn’t want to spring that on your husband when he was still getting acclimated to being back at home.

“Of course,” Bradley nodded, rocking your son back and forth in his arms. “You hear that, Nick? We’re gonna have some father-son bonding time while Mommy goes out to help Aunt Penny. Does that sound good to you?”

In response, Nick spit up all over Bradley’s shoulder.

“I’m going to choose to take that as a yes,” Bradley winced, grinning at you when he noticed that you were trying to hide your laughter behind your hand.

“It’s definitely a sign of his love and affection for you,” you giggled, taking the baby out of your husband’s arms so that you could clean him up and get him changed. “I think a little father-son bonding time sounds perfect. And I’ll only be gone for a few hours. I’ll text Penny to let her know that I can meet her in a little bit.”

“Sounds good,” Bradley nodded. “In the meantime, I think I’ll go take a quick shower,” he chuckled, pointing at the drool still coating his shoulder.

A few hours later, you were showered and dressed and ready to go meet Penny.

“Okay, so I fed Nick not that long ago, but if he gets hungry while I’m out, there are bottles in the fridge that you can warm up. And his diapers have been giving him a little bit of a rash lately, so I’ve been using this cream that Dr. McCarthy gave me whenever he needs to be changed. Oh, and—”

“Honey, relax,” Bradley laughed, resting his hands on your shoulders. “You’re going to be gone for a few hours, not a week. I can handle this.”

You bit down on your lower lip sheepishly, looking over at where Nick was currently relaxing peacefully in his sway swing. “I know,” you nodded, smiling as you leaned forward to press a kiss to the corner of Bradley’s mouth. “You know me, I always just get crazy whenever I have to leave him.”

“We’ll be fine. You go have some girl time with Penny, and we’ll have some man time here,” he grinned, kissing you gently.

“Okay,” you smiled. Turning towards Nick, you beamed as you knelt beside him to smother him in kisses. “Enjoy your man time with Daddy, my love. I’ll be home in a little while,” you told him, giving him one more kiss before rising back to your feet.

“I’ll see you in a little bit. Call me if you need anything,” you said, giving Bradley another kiss before grabbing your keys and your purse and heading out the door.

“We’ll see you soon! Tell Penny we said hi!” Bradley called out as he closed the door behind you.

As much as you hated being away from your two favorite guys, you had to admit that it was nice getting a few hours “off” to spend time with a dear friend, even if you were driving all over San Diego to run errands for the bar. You kept checking your phone every ten minutes or so, but there were no texts or calls from Bradley, so you figured everything must have been going fine at home.

Hope you and Nick are enjoying your man time! Don’t miss me too much! 😉

It was just a silly, teasing text, but when you received no reaction or reply, you started to grow a little antsy. Was everything fine at home? You had only been out for a few hours, but you also knew that Bradley had been under a great deal of pressure and strain these past several weeks. An uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of your stomach, and when Penny offered to pay for lunch as a thank you for helping her out, you told her that you’d have to take a rain check.

“We’ll talk soon!” you promised her, giving her a quick hug before jumping into your car and driving just slightly above the speed limit to get home as quickly as possible.

As you were hurrying into your apartment building, you checked your phone one last time and saw that you still had no messages or calls from Bradley. Fumbling around in your purse for your keys, you skipped the elevator and took the stairs two at a time until you reached your floor.

You hoped that you were wrong, but you just couldn’t shake the feeling that something had happened. Call it women’s intuition, but you knew something was off. Heart pounding, you approached your apartment door and that’s when you could hear the wails coming from inside. You recognized that cry instantly. Nicholas didn’t cry like that often, that throaty, inconsolable wail, but when he did, it could be extremely challenging to figure out exactly what it was that was causing him to be so upset.

“Oh, God,” you mumbled, trying to shove your key into the door, but in your hurry, you kept choosing the wrong one.

“There you are,” came the rude voice of Mr. Lanfranchi, one of your neighbors a couple doors down. From the moment you and Bradley had moved in, he’d seemed determined to have a problem with you. When you turned, you saw that he was standing in his open doorway, arms crossed, scowling at you. “That kid of yours has been screaming for over an hour. About time you showed up.”

Although you would have loved nothing more than to tell Mr. Lanfranchi where he could shove it, you decided killing him with silence was a better solution as you turned your back on him and finally managed to get the right key in the lock. Slamming the door behind you, you dropped your purse and practically ran in the direction of your son’s cries.

“Bradley?” you called out, a hint of panic in your voice. “Baby?”

Pushing open the door to the nursery, your heart plummeted at the sight before you. Nicholas was lying in his crib, kicking his legs and loudly sobbing, while Bradley was sitting on the rug, head in his hands as he stared down at the floor. For a moment, you just stared at the two of them, not sure who needed you more. But then your feet carried you to the crib and you were lifting Nick into your arms, trying to rock him back and forth gently, even as he continued to wail in your ear.

“Oh, no, it’s okay, my love,” you cooed soothingly, rubbing his back as you tried to calm him down. “Sh, sh, sh. Mommy’s home. Mommy’s here. It’s okay.”

Looking over at Bradley, you saw that he had lifted his head and was peering at you through bleary eyes. He looked exhausted, but also deeply troubled. The tension you had seen in his shoulders when you’d picked him up on base had returned, and he had a defeated look about him that broke your heart.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he was mumbling, burying his face in his hands and then raking his fingers through his hair wildly. “He—he hasn’t stopped crying. I haven’t been able to get him to stop crying,” he told you, sounding almost numb.

You remembered the first time Nicholas had gone into one of his crying fits like this while you were home alone with him. It had been incredibly draining and emotionally taxing. You had felt like crying yourself. You could only imagine how Bradley was feeling right now.

“It’s okay, baby,” you said, trying to reassure both your husband and your son at the same time. When you felt Nick’s diaper was dry, you tried to figure out what else could be the cause of his upset.

“Bradley,” you said gently, carefully kneeling down on the floor near his feet, Nick still cradled in your arms. “Honey, look at me. Is he hungry? Did he eat?”

Bradley pointed across the nursery, where an empty bottle was sitting on the table near the rocking chair. “He seemed hungry earlier, so I fed him a bottle. He was doing okay, and then he just started crying and he hasn’t stopped. I—I don’t know what’s wrong,” he admitted, and you realized that that admission terrified him. He looked desolate as he gazed down at the baby. “I don’t know how to help him.”

“It’s okay,” you told him, reaching out with one hand and gently squeezing your husband’s. “It’s okay, Bradley.” You thought you had an idea what the trouble might be now.

Rising up, you laid Nick down on the changing table and began to gently massage his belly in a clockwise motion, singing a calming song to him in a soft voice. It was a song you often sang to help him go to sleep at night. As you continued to rub his tummy, he slowly started to quiet down, his desperate wails turning to softer cries. Lifting his feet in both hands, you began to bicycle his legs slowly, kissing the soles of his tiny feet as you did so. Slowly but surely, his cries soon turned to whimpers, then to little hiccups, until finally he stopped crying altogether and simply blinked up at you with tired eyes, all tuckered out.

Bradley stood up slowly, staring down at Nick and then gazing up at you in awe. “How did you do that? What was wrong?” he asked, still looking a bit shell-shocked.

“He had a gas bubble,” you explained, carefully lifting the baby into your arms and cradling the back of his head. “It happened once before when I gave him the bottle. He’s okay now, baby, I promise,” you assured him, noting the worried expression that was still on your husband’s face. “I know it can be overwhelming when he cries like that. I had no idea what to do the first time he did it when I was alone with him. But it’s all okay now. See?”

He just continued to stand there, staring intently at Nick with a sad look in his eyes. “I couldn’t even help my own son,” he murmured, reaching out to lightly touch the baby’s back before dropping his hand again.

“Bradley, no, you—”

Before you could even get a full sentence out, Bradley was turning and walking out of the nursery, his head clutched in his hands. Your heart broke when you saw the defeated slump to his shoulders, and the heaviness he seemed to be bearing.

Not wanting to alarm Nick, who seemed to be on the verge of passing out from exhaustion, you continued to whisper soothingly to him, rubbing his back and rocking him in your arms until his eyes closed and his breathing evened out. Cradling his head carefully, you lowered him into the crib and watched him for a few minutes to make sure he really was sound asleep, then stepped out of the nursery on quiet feet and closed the door halfway behind you.

Concerned about Bradley, you immediately went in search of him. You checked the bedroom first, but when you didn’t find him there, you moved to the living room, where you discovered him sitting silently at the end of the couch.

“Honey,” you said softly, kicking your shoes off and curling up beside him on the couch. “Talk to me. What’s the matter?” You knew it had to go deeper than just Nick’s crying. Something had been off ever since Bradley returned from the mission.

“I’m a terrible father,” Bradley said quietly, tears stinging his whiskey-colored eyes as he turned his face away from you, seemingly too ashamed to even look you in the eye. “Nick was in pain, and he needed me, and I didn’t know what to do. I just froze. I didn’t even call you or anything. What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing!” you exclaimed, reaching out to cup Bradley’s face in your hands so that you could turn his eyes back to yours. “Nothing is wrong with you. Do you hear me? Babies cry. A lot. And sometimes it’s hard to know why. That does not make you a terrible father,” you insisted, looking directly into his eyes. “Do you hear me?”

“I didn’t know what to do,” he said again, shaking his head slowly. “I keep messing up.”

“Bradley, baby, you haven’t messed up anything,” you told him, running your fingers through his hair. He seemed so shaken up by this, and you were trying to understand why.

“It’s my fault that Coyote got hit,” he said quietly, lowering his gaze and staring down at his lap.

“What?” you asked, startled. Resting your hand over his, you leaned in closer and rested your head on his shoulder. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“It is,” Bradley told you insistently, his whole body tensing up beside you. “I was mission leader. I was the one making the calls, and I made a bad one. I thought we were clear. Bob and Fanboy weren’t picking anything up on radar. But that SAM just came out of nowhere,” he murmured, almost more to himself than to you. “I didn’t see it coming.”

“Oh, baby,” you said softly, cradling his cheek in your hand. “You can’t take all that responsibility and put it on your shoulders. You did the best you could. You said it yourself, even Bob and Fanboy didn’t pick anything up. You couldn’t have seen it coming.”

“But I should have!” Bradley’s voice was firm as he gazed at you, an agonized look in his expression. “I should have! Coyote could have been killed, and it would have been my fault. I feel like I just keep letting everyone down. And then today, I couldn’t even take care of my own son!”

You took a moment to process your husband’s words, to process the pain and the feeling behind them. It would be easy for you to sit here and tell him that it wasn’t true, that he shouldn’t feel that way, but who were you to tell him how he should feel? If that was how he felt at that moment, then he deserved to be heard.

“Baby, I can’t pretend to know exactly what you’re going through right now,” you began slowly, trying to collect your thoughts. “I’ll never be able to fully understand what it is you go through every time you go up in one of those jets, every time you fly some classified mission that I’m sure I don’t even want to know the details of. And I’m not going to sit here and tell you not to feel the way you feel, because you’re allowed to feel whatever you need to. But I do want to tell you that I think you’re an amazing man. An amazing husband, an amazing father, an amazing friend, and an amazing fighter pilot. You deserved to be mission leader because no one cares about that squad more than you do. You would put your own life on the line for any of them, and that is what makes you a good leader. Coyote knows that. And I know that he would never blame you for what happened. You didn’t let him down, baby. You didn’t let anybody down. You all came home, and that’s what matters most.”

Bradley swallowed, rubbing his hands up and down his thighs as he silently drank in your words, tears that refused to fall coating his dark lashes.

“You didn’t let Nick down either, honey. It’s hard, taking care of a baby. Trust me, I know,” you said, trying to laugh softly to lighten the mood. “Do you think I have all the answers? Believe me, I don’t. I only figured out what to do today because the last time it happened, I called Penny sobbing and begging for her to help me. I felt like the world’s worst mother that day.”

“You’re an amazing mother,” Bradley insisted suddenly, lifting his head and taking one of your hands between both of his own.

“And you’re an amazing father,” you replied evenly, arching a pointed brow as you looked at him. “One tough day doesn’t change that. Our son is so lucky to have you,” you whispered, caressing his cheek lightly as you leaned in closer.

Bradley took a deep breath, turning his head slightly to press a kiss to the palm of the hand that was resting against his cheek. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you what was bothering me when you asked. I just—I felt ashamed of what had happened. And—” He paused, struggling to get the rest of his words out. “And I didn’t want you to stop thinking of me as a hero,” he confessed.

“That would never happen,” you assured him, crawling into his lap and holding his face in your hands. “You’ll always be my hero.”

“And you’ll always be mine,” Bradley murmured softly, wrapping his arms around you tightly and pulling you in for a kiss.

Kissing him deeply, you rested your hand on the nape of his neck and ran your fingers through his hair, feeling his body slowly relax as the tension and anxiety oozed out of him. When you finally pulled back for air, you rested your head in the crook of his shoulder and whispered, “I love you so much, Lieutenant Bradshaw.”

You could feel his chest rumbling as he chuckled in response. “I love you more, Mrs. Bradshaw.”

“Not possible,” you teased, tilting your head back and grinning up at him.

Just then, the sound of the baby monitor that you kept in the living room came crackling to life as Nick awoke from his little hysteria-induced nap. You could hear him babbling and whimpering slightly, clearly in need of being held.

As you shifted to move off Bradley’s lap and go to your son, however, your husband stilled you with his hand. “I’ve got him,” he told you, sliding you easily off his lap and rising himself.

“Okay,” you smiled, nodding up at him. You knew this was something he needed to do after all that had gone on that afternoon.

Bradley smiled at you in return before walking out of the living room and down the short hallway to the nursery.

Within a few moments, you heard the sound of your son’s soft cries cease completely, which made you smile happily. You waited another couple minutes until you couldn’t take it anymore, and then you tiptoed quietly down the hallway and poked your head into the nursery.

Your husband was standing next to the crib, rocking a happily gurgling Nicholas in his arms as your son grasped onto one of his father’s large fingers.

“Daddy’s here, Nick. Daddy’s right here,” Bradley was whispering softly, gazing down at your son with a look of unadulterated adoration, a look that absolutely melted your heart. “I’m home now, and I’m not going to leave you or Mommy again for a very, very long time. I promise I’m going to be right here for you always.”

With tears in your eyes, you stepped into the nursery and wrapped your arms around both your boys, your heart full to bursting with how much you loved the two of them. It was more than words could describe.

“Thank you, honey,” Bradley murmured softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he wrapped one arm around you.

“For what?” you asked in surprise as you lifted your head to gaze up at him.

Bradley smiled, lightly brushing his fingertips across your cheek. “For always being my safe place to land every time I make it back home.”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #x reader #x female reader #rooster x wife!reader #mr. & mrs. bradshaw #top gun #top gun: maverick #miles teller

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 10 months

Note

Morning sex with Aemond please? If you haven’t already

Thank you for patiently waiting (for over two months!!) for this. I am so sorry. I hope you enjoy it.

Warnings: Smut, nothing too outlandish, just a good ol' fashioned early morning game of hide the sausage. Word count: ~800

Vibrant hues of yellow, orange and red filter through the gauzy bed curtains as her eyes flutter open, mind still foggy as she rouses into wakefulness. She is warm within the softness of the blankets, warmer still as she stretches out languidly towards the middle of the mattress. Her hand makes contact with the heated flesh of her husband’s bare chest and slowly she turns to face him.

Aemond lays on his side, propped up on his elbow amongst the pillows, watching her intently. His long silvery hair is loose around his shoulders, framing his face, as his sapphire eye glints dimly in the soft light of dawn. The natural curve of his lips turns ever so slightly further upwards at the sight of her, as she lays there sleepily taking him in. She is unused to seeing him like this, he rises much earlier than she does; something she makes a mental note to change. The sight of Aemond first thing in the morning is simply breathtaking, she has been a fool to allow herself to miss out on it in the six months they have been married.

“What time is it?” She asks, voice thick with sleep.

“The hour of the rooster.” Comes his murmured reply, as he reaches out the hand he isn’t leaning on to brush the hair from her face.

She allows her eyes to gently close at his comforting touch, basking in the graze of his fingertips against her temple. “You will be late for training.” She whispers.

“Mmm. So I shall.” He concurs, coaxing her onto her back and shifting to hover over her.

She relaxes beneath the familiar weight of him, relishing the way her husband’s body slots so perfectly against hers. Excitement flutters in her lower belly, she aches for what she knows will come next. Aemond leans down to kiss her, it is slow and decadent, yet loaded with passion, drawing a soft sigh from her as he begins to reach downwards.

Parting her thighs instinctively, her breath hitches when Aemond drags his fingers through her folds, spreading the slick that has gathered between her legs already. She thinks she may never get used to how expertly he touches her, but it is something she welcomes the surprise of.

Her fingers tangle themselves in the silkiness of his hair as he places hot, open mouthed caresses to her neck, all the while stroking unhurriedly at her centre. She whimpers, each of his ministrations causing a tautness in her belly which sets her writhing against him with unbridled desire.

“Such an eager little thing she is.” Aemond coos, almost to himself, as if he isn’t the one responsible for the state she’s in in the first place.

He pushes his breeches down just enough to free himself, and her jaw goes slack as she feels the hardness of him press against her, demanding entrance. He sinks in slowly, a groan rumbling deep within his throat as he stretches her inch by inch, the sensation is almost maddening for her, too much and yet not enough all at the same time.

His lips seek hers once more once he is fully sheathed within, the plushness of them against her own has her rapidly beginning to buck her hips against his, desperate for friction.

“Paerī.” He commands softly, his large hands enveloping her hips and holding her in place. Slow down.

Aemond keeps her still as he slides himself out of her, before pushing back in, setting a glacial pace that allows her to feel everything.

There are no other sounds in the room besides their intermingled heavy breaths and the wet drag of his length in her cunny. He is never this gentle with her, and she savours the intensity of his eye contact, the way he pushes her into the mattress but doesn’t rut mercilessly into her.

Each stroke knocks against a spot within her that has her toes curling and a pressure building in her belly. She tenses, clenching around Aemond, causing him to inhale sharply and his pace to falter.

“Peak for me, ābrazȳrītsos.” He urges. “I know you’re close.” Little wife.

Snaking a hand between their bodies, he strokes insistently at her pearl with his thumb and she knows she is done for. The pressure reaches its precipice, bubbling over into white hot waves of ecstasy that ripple from the top of her head all the way down to her toes, as she clenches ceaselessly around Aemond. He follows her shortly afterwards, stilling with a groan and pulsating inside of her with his release.

She holds him close, breathless and dazed in the wake of her climax, until she is recovered enough to speak.

“You are definitely late now.” She says with a smile.

Aemond smiles against the flesh of her shoulder. “Then it is a good job I have found a better way to spend my morning.”

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond stannies #aemond one eye #aemond #prince aemond targaryen #pro aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd #hotd smut #aemond targaryen fan fiction #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fan fic #hotd fan fiction #hotd fanfiction #hotd fan fic #hotd fanfic

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seresinhangmanjake · 10 months

Text

your way back to me

Dad!Jake “Hangman” Seresin x female reader

Summary: Jake’s best student gets into an accident and ends up in the hospital, and he doesn’t want to leave her alone so he waits for her mother to show up. But her mother just so happens to be the love of his life who left him in the middle of the night decades prior, and it’s about time she shared her biggest secret.

Warnings: Allusion to smut. Cursing. idk, that may be it.

Notes: This is an AU of the Oh, Baby series.

She was a good kid.

A great kid.

Dedicated, strong, wise beyond her years. Wickedly stubborn, and yet, she managed to keep it from impacting her work. She didn’t have the ego; that entitlement and bravado that came with being as talented as she was. But she wasn’t just talented. As if it were woven into the network of her veins, she was the absolute best at what she did, far surpassing her classmates.

No one wondered how she achieved so much at such a young age. She lived by some internal set of rules that Jake had caught onto over the last few months. Something along the lines of ‘work harder, train longer, don’t lose hope, never surrender.’ He could see it in every choice she made—too similar to his own mantra of motivation when he was developing his skills in the sky so many years ago. But she was also open. Open to offering others what she knew, and open to learning from others what she didn’t. He couldn’t have asked for a better student; didn’t even realize one like her could possibly exist.

He never had a child. There was one woman he would’ve given it all to, but when she left, finding another he cared to build a family with was not so easily achieved. But if anyone were to come close to what he imagined his kid to be like, Eve was it. The qualities she possessed that he recognized as his own were what bonded them, and the rest of her—the other pieces that made her whole—were infinitely better. They surpassed him. Those qualities, he’d deduced, came from her mother.

He didn’t know much about Eve’s mother, and knew of Eve's father only what Eve had shared with him—that solely being that the man was a pilot and the determining factor in her choosing to be the same. And maybe, he thought, that was why the two of them fell into their easy flow. He had always wanted a child; someone to care and be there for, and Eve was in need of the support and encouragement that should have come from the father she never knew. And so developed the relationship they had—one of instructor and mentor, confidant and friend.

Rooster teased him; told him that if he wanted something to take care of and watch over like a papa hawk, then he should’ve just gotten a puppy. But a puppy was a thought-out process. It was an acknowledged adjustment to daily life that required careful planning. It wasn’t the same. He hadn’t planned on taking Eve under his wing. Somehow, it was a natural development. He cared about the kid’s well-being. He wanted her to do well. The possibility of her fire and liveliness being snuffed out from a mission gone wrong was unable to pass through his mind without an accompanying squeeze to his heart. Should it become a reality, he would lose the closest thing he had to a daughter, and he knew he’d feel the full force of it.

That was why he stayed when the rest of her team had eventually gone back to base. Despite his exhaustion, despite his duties, the aches in his body from cheap waiting room chairs, and the hours upon hours of unchanging news, he refused to leave.

Eve only had her mother, and while she had been notified of the accident, it would take ages to make her way to California from the east coast. When she would finally arrive at the hospital, he didn’t want her to be alone. He wanted Eve’s mother to understand that there was someone else who cared about her baby, who tried so damn hard to protect her when he could, and wouldn’t leave her side when he failed.

—-

Jake…

Jake!

He internally groaned.

He hated when you called out to him. He hated that your voice always sounded so clear; so near that it filled him with enough false hope to have him reaching out into the darkness, thinking his fingers might actually feel your body. He imagined them grazing along your skin as you smiled at him in a promise that you were real, right in front of him, able to be tugged close and held tight and kissed until the rest of the world fell apart around you. He pictured you still in his bed, wrapped around him, trading whispers of love. It was a common stabbing to his chest that never failed to pierce through to his heart. Yet, if it disappeared, if you disappeared, if the dreams stopped, he knew it might be the thing to finally undo him.

“Jake!”

He jolted upright in his chair before his eyes had a chance to snap open. He looked up at a ghost. Stunning. Ethereal. A well-known silhouette.

Huffing, he positioned his elbow back on the armrest so he could rest his cheek against his fist. He allowed his eyes to drift closed. “Go away,” he mumbled. “You’re not real.”

“What are you talking about?”

His vision again tried to adjust to the overhead lighting. With a bite in his tone, he replied, “You are not—”

His eyes widened as they met those he had stared into so many times before. Real?

Jake shook his head, trying to recall any serious hits to the head. But then an invading thought caused him to remember his purpose.

His stiff joints cracked as he hopped out of his seat and rushed to the main desk.

"Excuse me, Miss." The words tumbled from his lips so fast it startled the young woman behind the counter. "Can you please tell me if—"

"She's going to be fine, Jake."

His breath hitched at the voice not leaving the mouth of the shocked young woman. The voice that came from behind him. That voice. The only one that mattered.

Moments ago, he was convinced his mind was having fun with him, playing and betraying simultaneously. However, needing to know Eve's state had shoved that concern to the side. But now it was unmistakable.

Jake gulped. He slowly turned.

Fuck.

His brow pinched, eyes beginning to sting as his heart went wild inside his chest.

Beautiful. So damn beautiful.

Like a fresh wave, it washed over him how different he felt just at the mere sight of you compared to how he did for any woman he had in his life over the last decades. Those feelings never came close to matching. They weren't on the same tier; couldn't be when what he felt for you sat high on a pedestal of his own making.

His eyes savored their slow scanning of you.

Exhaustion showed in the slump of your shoulders and in the dark circles under your eyes. Your hair was slightly messy. The shape of your body was hidden under a large sweatshirt. Your thumbnails were worn down from being nervously picked at. And Jake could see a few fine lines touched around your face. But you were still you. You still looked like his girl. And he couldn't understand how the hell you were in front of him.

"Eve's going to be ok," you repeated. "I talked with the doctor already. They gave her some medication to help her rest."

"You talked to…" He was still worn out. Brain trying to catch up with the world around him until, eventually, it clicked. "Eve is your daughter."

The empty room was silent as you stared at him. Then you said, "We can come back in the morning to see her. They said visiting hours are over so we have to go."

You twisted on your heel, making your way to the exit. Your steps against the tile echoed.

You were real. Each passing second further proving it. So he followed after you.

"Wait! You can't just walk aw—"

"Not here," you interjected.

His mouth instantly closed. He wouldn't argue, fearing that doing so would somehow make you disappear. And that was not something he was willing to risk.

He trailed you out the front door of the hospital.

"Are we far enough away now that you'll talk to me?"

You stopped and faced him. Neither of you seemed to guess what to do first. He had asked his question and he wanted his answer, but you didn't appear to know how to give one, so he skipped past it and instead glanced at your ring finger. It was bare. But maybe that meant nothing.

"Are you married?" He asked.

"No." You wrapped your arms around your middle. Hugging yourself. Barring yourself from him. Your weight shifted to your other foot, then your averted gaze made its way back to his. "Are you?"

His head shook as he soaked in the relief of your response.

Heaviness settled between you despite the California breeze moving the air along.

"Did you know?" He broke the silence, but the tension held firm. And as if you expected it, you didn’t flinch. "Did you know I was her instructor?"

The simple gesture of your nod was a punch to the gut.

"And you didn't want to reach out? Talk to me? See me?"

"Jake—"

"I would've done anything to get a chance to—" He stopped himself at the pain screwing your features. That expression had always ripped him apart. Twenty years changed nothing.

Taking a calming breath, he continued. "I'm sorry. I didn't…I'm not trying to…" His hand ran down his face. "Shit, I don't know how to do this anymore. I never thought I'd see you again."

You made no rushing move to collect the words he was giving you, and Jake sighed in disappointment. This was not how the two of you interacted. You didn’t stand so far apart. You didn’t hold yourselves back from touching one another. You weren’t supposed to be nervous in each other's presence.

"You look beautiful."

With a snort, you replied, "I'm a mess." You looked down at your sweatshirt and leggings. "I wore this to bed last night. They called me at the crack of dawn and I practically ran to the airport." Tugging at the hem of the oversized top did nothing to erase its wrinkles. "I didn't know you guys train so early."

"Eve likes to, so I let her," Jake said. "I'm so relieved that she's going to be ok. She's really great. If I ever had a daughter, I'd hope she'd be like Eve."

A hard swallow briefly created a bulge in your throat. Your arms found their way around your waist again.

"Do you, uh…do you have a place to stay?" With me, he thought. You belong with me.

"I'll find a hotel."

"You can sleep at mine."

"I couldn't intrude—"

"Honey, it's you. You're not an intrusion," he said, stepping closer.

He would’ve paused to consider the slip of the endearment and the slight widening of your eyes, but he too desperately needed to convince you to go with him. He needed more time. More time to exchange questions, to learn all he’d missed. More time to hear your voice, and maybe, if he could encourage it, hear your laugh as well. More time to be in your presence and exist in the space you enchanted. More of any and everything with you.

His hand rested on your arm and even through the thick material of the sweatshirt, he could feel your heat. So familiar. So welcoming.

Home.

"Come home with me, Honey. I've still got the spare room."

—

There'd been an unspoken agreement, as Jake drove back to his house, that neither of you would discuss all that had been revealed within the half-hour prior. Well, ‘agreement’ maybe was not the most accurate of words. You didn't speak, so Jake didn't pressure you. Had you chosen to open your mouth, he would've hung onto every syllable.

When you did finally step into the house, you shocked him with your sudden willingness to ask questions. How long had he been an instructor? Why had he kept the house when he'd surely been deployed elsewhere for long periods of time throughout his career? How the rest of his old team was?

He answered each one as you made your way down the hall into the living room. Then you went quiet and Jake glanced over his shoulder to find you staring at his wall of frames. From left to right, your eyes scanned each picture—those of his friends, group shots of his past classes, and one or two of him with his Gram. But you stared longest at the last one, and reached up to softly run your fingers over your younger face; a happy young woman smiling wide from his kiss on your cheek.

His chest tightened. "Do you want something to drink?"

You jerked your hand back to your side. A pinkish tinge rushed to your cheeks from having been caught, but seeing that reaction only produced the same in him. "No, thank you."

Nodding, he said, “Make yourself at home.” Just as you used to. Back when you were so close, so attached to one another that home really was being in each other’s space. It was the way things should have always been. It’s the way things would have continued to be had you not left him.

Jake grabbed a glass from his cabinet as you sat, poured himself a swigs-worth of alcohol, and downed it. He needed to curb the edge; calm the wiggling nerves under his skin. Then he joined you on the couch.

“How are you feeling?”

You blew out a long breath. “Exhausted. I was in panic mode all day. The only reason I’m not suffocating right now is because the doctor promised me she’ll be fine.”

“I felt that relief, too,” he said, trying to restrain himself from wringing his hands. “I mean, I know she isn’t my daughter, but I try to help and prepare her for every obstacle as if she were my own.”

As he had hoped, he got to hear your laugh. Not the one he so fondly remembered, though. It was a weak chuckle, not the least bit imbued with humor, and there was an odd twinge of something else he didn't quite understand.

“Of course you do," you muttered under your breath.

His brow pinched, and he was ready to ask what you meant, but his first word was interrupted.

“Jake, why didn’t you ever marry?”

"Uh…" He shrugged. "I don’t know. It just never happened.”

Lying to you was not something he was accustomed to. It was different than when he was a younger man keeping the secret of his feelings from the woman he’d loved for a year. You’d never directly asked him what he felt for you, so he was never in a position to be untruthful. But he sure as hell wasn’t about to tell you now that the sole reason he never married was because the only woman he ever imagined having a family with vanished from his life while he slept unaware and unable to stop it. You, though, didn’t seem to have the same problem when it came to properly moving on. You had created that family. Without him.

“Were you ever married?” he asked. “To Eve’s father? Or someone?”

For such a simple curiosity, you took a while to address it, opting instead to sit in silence, eyes not entirely focused on any particular thing in the room as one thumbnail picked at the other.

He knew that look, only shown when you were overthinking.

"Jake," you began, eyes still lost for a moment before they flicked over to his, “Do you know how old Eve is?"

"Sure. Pretty much everyone does. She's one of the youngest to ever be in the program," he chuckled.

A sense of pride encouraged his smile. Being so young made Eve’s skill and abilities wildly impressive, and aiding in her success couldn't be compared to anything less than an honor.

His grin remained long after the lingering of his statement faded entirely. And not once did your expression shift. Rather, the radiating anxiety continued to halo your body.

Jake placed his hand on top of yours to soothe their fiddling, and you immediately grabbed onto him, pulling that hand closer and keeping it snug between your palms.

“Honey, what’s wrong?"

Sighing, you peered up at him. Your gaze was sad, desperate, pleading, in a way. And he stared back, trying to decipher that pain; hoping to figure out why you were looking at him as you were, and why you'd asked the questions you did.

Then his eyes widened.

His jaw slackened.

Lips parted.

He’d heard of those random shocks. Those instances of a thread suddenly linking two dots, and that new connection bringing a clarity which, in hindsight, should have been so very obvious.

Jake sifted through his rapid replaying of memories that spanned the last couple of months.

Phoenix eyeing the young student and commenting how the girl bore quite the resemblance to him—He’d brushed it off. Plenty of people had blond hair and green eyes.

The way she sometimes spoke. A specific phrase said in a specific tone that he’d only ever heard come out of your mouth—Just an odd coincidence.

The fact that her name was the same as his grandmother's—There were only so many names to select from, right?

But now, with that new unbreakable thread connecting those previously sporadic dots, clarity smacked him upside the head.

"You left me at the beginning of that summer," he started, voice low and slow and careful with each word. "And Eve's birthday is in March."

"Yes."

Looking down at your joined hands, he nodded and said, "She's our daughter."

He could practically hear your swallow.

"...Yes."

He stood then, hand slipping from yours so it could run down his face as the other settled on his hip. He blew out a heavy breath.

"Jake, I'm so sorry. I should have told you. I thought—I thought I was doing the right thing at the time. When I found out you were her instructor, I was going to find a way to tell you, but I was so scared and it was selfish and—"

"Does she know?"

"No, she—When she came here she told me she looked up to you, and that if she imagined the kind of man her father was, he'd be like you."

You paused to properly exhale, head hanging in the aftermath.

He wanted to erase that showing of shame, but if he interrupted you, you might not have given the rest of the story. And he needed the rest of the story. He needed the truth of the events that had haunted him for decades.

"I always felt I made the biggest mistake of my life the day I left you, but hearing her say that solidified it. And for years, I let fear keep me from righting that wrong,” you said, a droplet of water falling from your face, soaking into the fabric of your leggings. "All this time I've been so afraid that you wouldn't want her, and you wouldn't want me, and it's paralyzed me."

His fingers twitched at his sides, begging him to allow them to brush away your tears—to let the woman he loved know that he didn’t hate her for her past choices—but he couldn’t move. And the only thing he could think to say was, "Should it really have taken her getting hurt for you to tell me?"

Raw heartbreak seeped into your gaze.

"So it's my daughter that is laying in a hospital bed right now." The more he said it, the more he called her that in acknowledgment of who they truly were to one another, the more it ached each limb and vein and nerve of his body to know that she was hurting. Yes, he had always cared about her and treated her like his own, but Eve being his daughter changed things. It altered his biological instincts and the chemical balance in his brain. Failing in protecting her was no longer just a failure, it was catastrophic to his soul.

He pictured her face bruised, her lip cut, her cheek swollen. He imagined your sheer horror once learning she was injured thousands of miles out of your reach. You’d faced it alone. You never should have been alone to begin with.

"I should've kept looking for you," he said. "I should have just told everyone else to fuck off."

"Jake, if they were telling you to give up, then—"

"Don't. Do not say it was for good reason. We could've been together. If I had found you we would've been a family."

The day his friends had sat him down, laid out what they believed to be the reality he refused to accept, and told him to move on, was fresh in his mind. Not a moment of it had faded. He’d dreamt about it for ages—sometimes still did—always waking devastated.

Your palm cupping his cheek called him back from his thoughts.

"The only reason we weren't a family is because I fucked up. I did,” you stressed. “This isn't on you."

You were suddenly so close, he realized. So warm within his space. How he’d survived losing you, he didn’t know.

"Would you have come back with me? If I had been able to find where you were?"

Your hand fell but he grabbed it before you could retreat, and thankfully, you didn’t fight him. Then you sighed, the act expelling the tenseness that had stiffened your form. "I'm not going to answer that question."

Perhaps for the best. Either answer would’ve broken him.

He wished to go back in time, to never give up on his search. He wanted a chance to convince the woman he loved to raise a child together. He wanted to be a father to that baby girl as she’d grown, and enjoy all of the moments that came with being her parent.

Nothing could give that to him now, but at least he wouldn’t be losing any more time.

Eve being grown didn’t mean she wasn’t his. Being in one another’s lives proved to be predestined. He was a father, had always been, and could maybe finally be seen as a father by his daughter now that you had bared it all and given the truth.

So he figured maybe it was only fair to do the same for you.

Jake looked at you. Really looked at you. His eyes bore into yours, taking in the swell of your pupils and the different colors flecked around in what remained of the ring of your irises. "Is this secret sharing day?" he asked.

"What?” Your brow pinched as you sniffled and swiped your fingers under the lower lashes framing your right eye to remove the final remnants of tears. “I-I suppose so. If that’s really what you want to call it."

“Good.” Both hands were on his hips to give him some sense of physical stability, and he licked his lips, then said, "I didn't get married because I never found anyone I loved as much as I love you. I couldn’t fully give myself to anyone while I still belonged to someone else.”

Shock and disbelief melded inside that previously heartbroken gaze.

He hadn’t been able to say the words before you left. You hadn’t given him a chance. But he could see now that you had spent years wondering if felt that deeply for you, as he had wondered if you felt that way for him.

“Jake, you…you love me?”

“I've always loved you, Honey,” he declared just before his lips met yours.

The soft touch didn’t seem to stun you. You didn’t take your time to adjust to the kiss you hadn’t shared in decades. Instead, you fell right into it, right alongside him. Your arms rose to wrap around his neck, sending shudders up his spine. You tugged him closer as he did the same to you. You moaned and whimpered and let your tongue play with his, so generously allowing him to get drunk off of your taste.

You kissed him exactly like he remembered; like nothing had changed or interrupted the perfect path you once started on. There was the same sweetness that, just as it used to, surrendered to an underlying burn. A familiar need for each other that had never died. And you settled into it; kissing skin and grasping at clothes and snuffing out all space between you until neither of you could take it anymore.

“Honey?” A little whine into your mouth.

“Yes,” you replied, sealing your lips again before he could say another word. Because you weren’t just answering the call of his name for you. You were answering the unspoken question the both of you already knew was coming.

Jake grinned into the kiss and slipped his hand down the front of your leggings.

—-

"I assume you have more questions?"

Your voice was the first break in the peaceful silence where he had been lazily pressing his lips to your neck and bare shoulder while your back was tucked against his chest.

He did have questions. But it was a war whether to ask them or to remain a little longer in the bubble of bliss where he could touch you and cuddle you and kiss you. You had asked, though, and he'd never been too good at denying you anything.

Pulling his lips away from your skin, he said, “A hundred of them.”

You flipped under the bedsheet to face him. "Any particular one you wish to start with?"

Jake paused. Not because he didn’t know the first of which to ask, but because your answer had a great deal of power over him. It contained his hope and his pain, either with the potential to destroy the other. It was an answer that would dictate his future.

"Can she know?" He finally asked.

"She deserves to know,” you replied to his relief. “She'd want to know. As long as you want her to know, too."

His arm over your waist curled and pulled you closer. "Of course I do, Honey."

"Then we can tell her tomorrow, if you want."

"Are you ready for that?"

"It's not about me," you said. "She might forgive me now, she might not. It could take a while, I suppose, and I hate that, but I'd deserve it."

When your head dipped down away from his, he ran his hand over the strands of your hair and brushed his lips against your forehead.

"I hope that we all can look at this as a chance to have something new, though," you continued. "I'd like for us to look ahead, not behind."

Jake smiled. That was all he wanted. Just a chance to have what he’d lost. Everything he had lost.

"And what about you and me?" He hummed as his knuckle under your chin tilted your face back up to his. "Do we get something new as well? Because I don't know if I'm capable of letting you walk out of my life again."

The corners of your lips curved the slightest and you cupped his cheek, drawing him further into you. The kiss was gentle, brief, but more than enough to send tingles throughout him. Then you separated a hairs width and whispered:

"Jake, I'm not capable of leaving you again."

----

A/N: Ok, so this might be it for a little bit, guys, as far as fic posting. There’s been a lack of interest it seems lately and i’m not in a good space mentally to be able to put a lot into it and not know how it’s being received. It’s no ones fault but my own that I feel this way. This is how I’ve chosen to spend my time and this is the platform I picked. I want to write the rest of Oh, Baby and Beyond the Hills stuff but idk. Maybe i’ll snap out of it. But this was just to let those of you who have been following know what the plan might be. I’m very thankful that some of you have stuck around this long.

Tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @cinderellasmissingshoe @novagreen04 @multifandomlover4life @mayhemmanaged @memeorydotcom @ryiamarie

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick #top gun maverick hangman #top gun maverick fic #tgm fic #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin angst #dad!jake seresin #dad!jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x female!reader #jake seresin x fem!reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin au #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfic

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dreamingundone · 10 months

Text

When The Morning Comes

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x OFC (could be read as reader-insert, no use of Y/N) Summary: Jake doesn’t do serious. He was really upfront and honest about that. So why is he he one getting really tired of saying goodbye every morning? Rating: PG-13 for swears. Words: 3K+ Author’s Note: Here I am again writing fic in the year 2023 because I haven’t stopped thinking about Jake Seresin since last summer. This is slightly Band of Brothers adjacent because I’m incapable of putting away that particular hyper-fixation but you don’t need to know anything about it to understand this. Disclaimer: I don’t own the character Jake or Top Gun: Maverick. Please don’t re-post or translate my work without my permission. There's probably some inaccuracies here though I did my best to Google a few things, but even so, please be nice.

He watches her as she works out of the corner of his eye. He tells himself that he's not seeking her out every time he wanders the corridors at the hangar, but it just happens.

She's impossible to ignore.

There's a sinking feeling in his gut as she very much doesn't make eye contact with him, and in fact, she brushes by him as she leaves the room without so much as a glance.

"All set?" He asks Rooster gruffly, who arches an eyebrow.

"Didn't think you cared so much, Hangman." He gets up from the exam table, hands brushing over the thin line of stitches near his eyebrow.

Jake rolls his eyes.

"Oh!" Rooster says suddenly, eyes lighting up. "It's not me you're here for--"

"Shut up."

Bradshaw's not lying though, which makes Jake grit his teeth even harder.

"Secret's safe with me." He says with a wink, leaving Jake standing in Sick Bay by himself, questioning basically every life decision he's made to get to this point.

Six months earlier

"Listen up!" Maverick calls over the din, and when he can't get anyone's attention except for Dagger Squad, Admiral Bates does the job with a sharp whistle.

The hangar goes quiet, and they sit quietly as they listen to the mission briefing. Three months of training, and then they'll be shipped out to God knows where for God knows how long.

While he's pretty used to this particular way of life by now, he sees some of the other squads he doesn't know sharing nervous looks.

There's a group standing closer to the door that he's never had the pleasure to interact with - the medical staff from Sick Bay. The doctors look bored, but there's a new medic who's caught his eye from the minute he walked into the room.

She's taking notes or something, and Jake smirks as she looks up, meeting his eyes briefly. She rolls her eyes and looks back to her notebook, which only makes him smile wider.

He introduces himself the first time he gets a chance, later at the Hard Deck.

"I'm Jake," he says, holding out a hand.

"Good for you." She says, not looking up from her phone.

"Waiting on someone?"

"Someone else, definitely."

There's something about the way she says it - there's no heat in her words really, even though he knows she's trying to put him off. Look -- everyone thinks Jake is an asshole, and he knows he can be sometimes, but he doesn't want to stick around where he's clearly not wanted, even if all he wants to do is sit here with her and learn everything there is to know about her.

"Enjoy your drink," he says, and leaves her there looking a little surprised, if the crease between her brows is any indication.

It's a few days later when he has an excuse to see her again, though not under the circumstances he would have wished.

He's being semi-held up between Javy and Rooster, and he's scowling. "I'm fine," he grumbles.

"Sure, tell that to the control panel you smashed your head off of." Javy says, and Jake would roll his eyes, it's just that he can't really see straight, so he thinks he'd just pass out.

Okay, so he had to emergency land. At least he didn't have to eject.

"Put him here." He hears her voice, kind but authoritative. "Lieutenant Seresin, I thought I told you the other night I wasn't interested."

Javy snorts, and Rooster bites back a grin.

"Desperate times calls for desperate measures." Jake says, groaning as he lies back on the exam table.

Then she's there, looming over him, and the irony isn't lost on him that this is the first time she's looking him directly in the eye. Well, her and her flashlight, anyway.

"Pupils a bit larger than I'd like." She mutters. He finds himself really unable to do anything other than watch her as his vision wavers. "Concussion, obviously." She says. "Is the light bothering you?"

"A little." He answers.

She hums in sympathy. "You need stitches. Give me a minute." She says, and then her warmth is gone, and the bright light overhead is all he can see, making him close his eyes.

He sighs. This really isn't the impression he wanted to make.

Dimly, he registers Javy and Rooster leaving the room, saying they needed to go tell the rest of the Daggers how he was doing. He's sure Phoenix and Bob are pacing somewhere. Mav, too.

"Stupid." He mutters.

"What?" She asks, sounding offended.

"Nothing. Not you." He says, eyes opening as she leans over him again, hissing when she wipes an antiseptic over his forehead. "A little warning would have been nice."

"Don't be a baby." She chides, face full of determination. "Stay still."

He lets her work for a few minutes before he tries again. "I meant that I felt stupid for this."

She meets his eyes quickly. "Sounded like you did what you had to do so you didn't kill yourself."

"You were listening?" He asks, surprised. He feels dumber that he didn't realize that. Of course the medics were on standby.

"It's my job." She says. She pauses for a minute, glancing at her wrist. Her wristwatch is turned the wrong way round, so the face of it is on the inside. It's very military, and it makes him smile. It's how he can spot another Navy guy a mile away.

Hers is different than his, though, the face worn and scratched.

"Is that thing even ticking?" He asks as she gets back to work.

Her tongue is between her teeth as she completes the next few stiches, the sight making him a little distracted.

"It was my great-grandfather's."

He feels like he's bothering her, so he doesn't ask any more questions, but she surprises him by continuing.

"He's the reason I wanted to get into medicine. He was an Army medic."

"And that was his service watch?"

"Made it through the drop to Normandy and back."

Jake's eyebrows rise. "A paratrooper."

She nods. "He died before I was old enough to figure out what I wanted to do, but this watch has kept on ticking. Feels like I've got him over my shoulder advising me on what to do."

"That's really nice." Jake says honestly, and again he catches a surprised look on her face.

"I'm sorry," she says, maybe seeing the way his features droop. "You can sit up," she says off-hand before continuing. "I wasn't really fair to you. I've just-- to be honest, I've heard some things. Made me think..."

Jake nods. He knows what everyone says. And to be fair, he's never given anyone other than his friends any reason to doubt the rumors about him. What's the point? He'd rather let everyone on North Island think what they want than spending time fighting his reputation. It's not worth it, especially when he leaves often for months at a time.

"Anyway. That wasn't fair. I'm sorry."

He shakes his head, pasting on a smile he doesn't really feel. "No harm done. I don't really... I don't really do serious. So the rumors aren't far off." He doesn't know why he says it. It's the truth - he's scared of getting attached. He's no good at being someone's boyfriend and he knows it. But still -- it feels weird to say it out loud to her.

"Well. Okay then, Lieutenant. You're going to be grounded for awhile, unfortunately. Come back next week and we'll see how you're doing."

Over the next few weeks, they do more mission prep, which means the medical team and the Daggers are together more often than not. They'll all be together as a wing on the carrier, and it's important that everyone knows all the details of every minute of the mission.

They have enough downtime too, and that's where he really finds himself in deep trouble. All because of her.

Phoenix has taking a liking to her, and really, everyone else has too. It's hard not to like her.

He's watching her now, contemplative eyes as he tilts his beer bottle back to his lips, and his heart does a funny little flip at the sound of her laugh.

He's surprised when she makes her way over to him at the end of the night, elbowing him lightly.

"All alone, Hangman?"

He smiles wryly. "Only got room in my heart for one lucky lady, Doc."

The nickname was her great-grandfather's, and it's stuck to her too. The first time Mav called her that, she got a little misty-eyed, and Jake found it so endearing he could barely look at her.

She rolls her eyes. "You get back up in the air tomorrow."

He nods, having been cleared by the medical team earlier that day. He can't wait. He misses the adrenaline and the sound of the engines roaring underneath him.

"Thanks to you," he says, nudging her in return. She'd been like a drill sergeant the last few weeks, watching him like a hawk to make sure he stuck to paperwork and didn't overwork himself while he recovered from his concussion.

"Just doing my job." Her standard answer. He thinks it's interesting that someone so confident has a hard time accepting any praise.

"No, it's something else." He says, taking another pull from his bottle. "You were born to do this, I think. You've got a special touch."

She blinks rapidly, and for a horrifying moment, he thinks she might cry. She clears her throat. "How many of those have you had?" She gestures towards the bottle in his hand. "I said one beer, Seresin."

"Not even a full one." He assures her. "And I mean that, Doc."

The way she's looking at him sends his heart racing. Is she--? No, he's imagining it, that she looks like she's leaning in a little, her lips parted invitingly. That's impossible.

"Thank you, Jake." She says softly, and it's the first time she's ever called him by his first name. It takes everything inside of him to stop from leaning into her a little bit more, and in the end he doesn't fight it.

They sit there, side by side, shoulder to shoulder, in a comfortable silence for the rest of the night. And if her pinky brushes his just a little on the bartop, he doesn't draw attention to it. He just lets it happen, enjoying the warmth unfurling inside of him.

The briefing where they get their assignments for the mission is tense. This is a dangerous one. Top secret, and not even the medic team is allowed in the room with the Daggers while they get briefed.

There's some speculation that they won't even come along - that this mission is so secret, the fewer eyes on it, the better.

It makes something twist inside him, the thought that he might not see her until he comes home from deployment. He hasn't had that feeling in a really, really long time.

Afterwards, he's wandering the corridors aimlessly when he quite literally runs smack into her.

"Oh!" She says, surprised, and he grabs at her arms instinctively, holding her upright.

"Sorry, Doc."

"Are you okay?" She asks, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Fine. I--" He looks up, meeting her eyes. "Will you go to dinner with me?"

She swallows. "What?"

"Look, I'm not looking for anything serious. I'm starting to think you aren't either. But I also like you, and I'd like to take you to dinner. If you want." It all comes out in a rush.

"Okay." She says quietly.

"Okay?"

"Okay." She repeats.

They don't even make it through dinner.

He's so distracted by the sight of her in civilian clothes that he can barely form a coherent sentence all night.

It must show on his face, and he really feels like an asshole for it, but she also responds to it, so he doesn't stop himself from staring at her, not this time.

Somewhere in the middle of the dinner course, she puts down her fork. "Are you going to take me home now?"

He doesn't think he's ever scribbled his signature on a check so fast in his life.

After that it's all a blur of heated gazes, wandering hands, and finally, mouths meeting. It's all flushed skin and, for Jake, trembling hands. He tries not to examine that particular fact too much.

In the morning, she leaves before he wakes up. He feels a little weird about it, but it's also how it has to be. It's how he's always done things. And if that's good for her too, even better.

They go on like that for weeks. He tries not to think about how each morning it's harder and harder to watch her get dressed in the haze when she thinks he's still asleep.

He tries not to think about how she always looks back over her shoulder before she goes, something soft in her eyes.

He tries not to count down the days between now and his deployment date.

On a Friday morning, he's making no show of the fact that he's awake when she slides out from under the sheets and starts dressing.

"You could stay." He says, voice a little hoarse.

She pauses, but pulls her shirt over her head. "Don't do that." She says, voice quiet but firm.

"Just for breakfast."

"This is what you wanted, Jake. I'm just trying to make this easy for both of us."

His face twists. "And I can't change my mind?"

"Actually, no." She says, voice harsh. "Because you've said to me a hundred times that you weren't looking for anything serious. Staying longer, spending days together... that's serious. I'm just doing what you wanted."

Maybe I don't want that anymore. The thought rattles around in his brain, but he doesn't say it.

"It doesn't have to mean anything." He says without thinking, and the look she gives him is withering.

"You've been doing your best not to let any of this mean anything, Seresin."

"We're going by last names now?"

"For fuck's sake, Jake!" She hisses, tugging her pants on. "I should have trusted my instincts with you. I should have listened to my gut."

He sits up straighter now, hurt lacing his tone. "So you've just been miserable for the last few months, right? None of this has been pleasurable for you, and that's my fault."

"I didn't say that."

"You know what? Don't let me keep you. Must have been a moment of insanity." He says, voice hard. "You're right. Keep it simple, keep it meaningless. That's perfect."

She doesn't say anything else as she gathers the rest of her stuff and slams the door behind her.

He doesn't see her again until the final mission briefing before deployment.

They're being deployed to the same carrier. That wasn't supposed to happen. The whole reason he decided to take a chance, to finally act on these feelings that he's afraid to identify... it was spurred on by the idea that he may come back in a year to find her elsewhere.

Their eyes meet across the hangar. There's nothing friendly in them now.

He swallows hard. This is going to be a shit-show.

They're out in the middle of the goddamned ocean when he, yet again, has to race to Rooster's rescue. It's not nearly as terrifying as the last time it happened, but he's still furious at his friend for risking his life once again. Rooster skids into the carrier with his landing gear barely hanging on, and the rough landing has him doing his best impression of Jake himself all those months ago when he nearly smashed his face into the control panel.

He has to help Rooster get to the Sick Bay because he can't do it on his own, and no matter how much he wants to avoid seeing her, he needs to get help, and Doc is the best, there's no doubt about it.

They ignore each other, though he watches her. He can't help it. She handles Rooster like he's the most important person in the room, and it twists something inside Jake, though he knows that's what makes her invaluable.

She leaves before he can say anything to her.

"All set?" He asks Rooster gruffly, who arches an eyebrow.

"Didn't think you cared so much, Hangman." He gets up from the exam table, hands brushing over the thin line of stitches near his eyebrow.

Jake rolls his eyes.

"Oh!" Rooster says suddenly, eyes lighting up. "It's not me you're here for--"

"Shut up."

Bradshaw's not lying though, which makes Jake grit his teeth even harder.

"Secret's safe with me." He says with a wink, leaving Jake standing in Sick Bay by himself, questioning basically every life decision he's made to get to this point.

In the corridor outside Sick Bay, she's lingering. Pacing.

Jake stops. He's not sure how to get past her without speaking to her. And truthfully, he knows he owes her an apology. He owes her more than that, but he doesn't know how.

"He's going to be okay," She says. "Just so you know."

"I know. Had you fixing him up, after all."

"You sounded scared on the comms."

He shakes his head. "He's reckless."

"He's your friend. It's okay to worry." It's okay to feel things, she doesn't say, but he hears it like she shouted it.

He puts his hands on his hips. "I worry a lot, actually. I worry about a lot of things."

She's just watching him warily, and he goes on, actually unable to stop rambling.

"I worried from the second I met you that I was going to fall in love with you, and that's exactly what happened."

Her mouth falls open, and he plows on.

"I worried that if I let myself get too close, I'd never recover when inevitably you found someone better than me. I didn't think we were getting deployed together. I thought I'd never see you again, that I'd come home and you'd have found someone that deserves you. So I put a boundary there, and I never should have. Even when you respected it, I got angry with you. Because I did want more."

"Jake, what the fuck?" She breathes, and he laughs.

"I know. I'm an asshole, and I'm sorry. I just-- I couldn't stop myself. With every little thing I learned about you, I just fell a little harder. And that was never the deal. So even when you acted like... like you could've felt the same way, I didn't give you the chance." He smiles, but it's more like a wince. "Call it self preservation, I guess."

"You're so stupid, Lieutenant Seresin." Her voice is shaky. "As if I would have thought about anyone else for a year, even if we were separated."

His head snaps back up to meet her eyes. "Doc?"

"I've been falling for you this whole time too, you idiot. And the only reason I didn't want to stay that morning was because I'd worked so hard to stop myself wanting more than you were willing to give."

"I'm sorry."

"You keep saying that."

"I can keep saying it, if it helps."

She takes two quick strides in his direction while they're alone, and kisses him. Quick and hard, it sets his skin afire and his heart pounding.

"Back to work, Hangman." She says against his lips as she lowers herself down to her feet. "We'll talk about this later." Her thumb presses into the dimple on his cheek.

"If I have to, Doc." He says, and this time when he watches her walk away, he knows it's for the last time.

He's not going to let her out of his sight for a long time, if he can help it.

#hangman x oc #jake seresin x oc #top gun maverick fanfiction #HELP I'VE WRITTEN FIC AGAIN #you can thank my obsession with G.P. for this one

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halfway-happyyy · 2 years

Text

invisible string (rooster bradshaw)

AN: the one where rooster’s about to leave on a mission he doesn’t know if he’ll be back from, and he wants you in every way imaginable. as always, soft feelings ensue! under a cut because there is some 18+ sexual content!

pairing: rooster bradshaw x female reader

side note: rooster has been really fun to write for recently so thank you for all the love and feedback on my other two works 💙

“There’s an invisible string between the two of us,” Bradley Bradshaw confesses over a pint on the eve of mission day.

Struggling against the background hum of the Hard Deck you quirk an eyebrow in question. “I beg your pardon?”

He leans in closer to you; his coarse moustache hairs tickle the delicate shell of your ear, and make you shiver involuntarily. Taking your smaller hand in his, he traces a circle around your ring finger. “There is a string around this finger that connects to mine. You can’t see it, but wherever I go, you go with me.”

He has completely dumbfounded you, and so for lack of anything better to say, and also because you’re in serious danger of telling him just how much you love him you ask, “What color is this mysterious string?”

“Red,” He simply states- as if it were the obvious answer- and swills back the last of his beer.

His umber gaze smolders under the low light of the bar while he watches you; the beer he has just finished is a catalyst for the blush that colors the apples of his cheeks, and which threatens to spread even lower. A sudden, subtle shift in the atmosphere occurs; like moments before the sky rips opens and bleeds rainfall in torrential sheets.

“Rooster?”

He tilts his head to the side, a smirk pulls the corner of his lips skyward- and yeah, he knows.

“Yeah, babe?”

“Take me home.”

It comes out as more of a desperate plead than you were anticipating, and hot flames of embarrassment lick at your cheeks.

He senses the not-so-subtle urgency in your tone, and because he’s always had a rather difficult time saying no to you, he grins from ear to ear and says, “Sure thing, kid.”

The drive home is silent save for the static of the FM radio in the background, and when he rolls up in front of your house eleven minutes later, a breath of pent-up air rushes from your mouth in a soft sigh. Rooster exits the car and makes his way around to your side to open the door. Taking your hand, he leads you up to the front door where he struggles for a moment with the keys, and finally- you’re in the comfort of your front foyer. Kicking off his boots, he leads you by the hand to the bedroom down the hall. Once there, he doesn’t wait a moment before pushing you up against the wall and kissing you like it's his last time.

Because maybe it is.

When he pulls away from you, he’s breathless, his chest heaving from the sudden lack of oxygen. “You really are something else, you know that?”

Tugging impatiently at the hem of his cotton t shirt, you gaze up at him from under long lashes, a sly smile dances on your features. “Oh, shut up and take me to bed, Rooster.”

If he senses the desperation behind that sentence, he makes no mention of it. Instead, he gazes at you for a second before pressing his lips to yours again. It’s a languid kiss that carries with it an underlying frenzy; he wants this as bad as you do and when he pulls away, you are left breathless and utterly yearning for him. His taste on your tongue is so familiar- so intrinsically Rooster- that it causes tears to prick behind your eyes and when he pulls away to study you, his lips glisten with shared saliva. When you ask him what he's thinking of, he offers a half shrug. “This moment- with you, right now, makes everything worth it.”

The late nights. The suicide missions. The missed birthday parties and holidays. Time with you.

You kiss him now because you can’t bear the weight of those words yet- maybe not ever, and your need for him is entirely primal now. He wordlessly rids you of your sundress, pleased to see that your proper undergarments were somehow completely forgotten.

“That’s my girl,” He grins into the muddled air before you, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. His warm, sure hands roam your body freely; they find purchase in your hair, moving to your neck, then further down to caress your breasts and- goddamit, if this is the last time, you resolve to commit every second of it to memory. No one has ever made you feel the way Rooster does, and you doubt anyone ever will again.

Bending his head down to suck a nipple into his mouth, he tugs and rubs at your free one with calloused fingertips. You arch into his touch, feeling the weight and friction of his clothed erection as he grinds up against you. Rooster sinks to his knees then, leaving scorching trails of open-mouthed kisses down the expanse of soft flesh between your chest and ribs, while you writhe in anticipation beneath him.

“Rooster…” A low moan claws its way from the hollow of your throat as you watch him hook your leg over his toned shoulder.

When he gazes up at you, his burnt-honey orbs twinkle mischievously in the waning evening light. His kisses are sloppy as they blaze over the velvet-softness of your inner thigh while you squirm with need beneath him. Paying particular and close attention to the ways in which you come apart for him are one of his many strong suits. You reckon he could draw a road map of your body from memory alone; where to kiss to make the prettiest sounds sing from you and where to touch to have you coming apart beneath him. He parts you with ease and without warning presses the tip of his nose to your clit, inhaling your scent. Shaking his head against you, the vibrations spark shockwaves of pleasure that stoke the fire roaring in your belly. He pulls away to lick a long, firm stripe up your slit with the flat of his tongue, greedily lapping at the moisture collected there. Your fingers find purchase in his hair as you give yourself over to the pleasure he's so graciously gifting you.

“Fuck, Rooster…”

Rooster's acknowledgement of your need for him arrives in the form of a muffled groan. He continues lapping at your folds with a pressure and speed that lights a match to the unravelling coil wound deep in your belly. Filthy noises and a seemingly endless array of choice curse words flow freely from you as he helps you near the edge. He pulls away from your all-encompassing heat to push two thick fingers into your soaked core and it's all you can do to keep from falling apart right then and there.

“Always so good for me…” Rooster marvels at you, his naturally husky voice ruined by sheer want. He knows you’re close; can feel it in how tightly wound you are, how hard you’re quivering against him. His head rests close enough to you that you can feel the warmth of his breath where it really matters and suddenly- thanks to the curl of his long, skilled fingers, you tumble head-first over the edge into an abyss of pure pleasure. Stars bloom in vivid fireworks behind the lids of your closed eyes while Rooster holds onto you like his life depends on it; like he's afraid if he lets go, he'll lose you forever.

“That's it sweet girl, give it all to me." He coos encouragingly while you tremble against him.

Rising from his position, the site of his chin glistening with your arousal is obscene and only helps to stoke the fire still burning in the pit of your belly for him.

“I don't know that I've ever wanted you more, sweetheart.” His tone is desperate, almost frustrated, and your gaze travels to the erection straining the crotch of his blue jeans.

“I am yours, Rooster.” You whisper.

And it’s true.

In every way imaginable, you are his.

He strips for you now; knows it’s one of your favourite things to watch, and how quickly it gets you ready for him again. Lifting the cotton t shirt up and over his body, he tosses it onto the pile of other discarded clothing. The sound of metal from his belt buckle as it hits the hardwood floor pierces the too-warm stillness as he shimmies the black briefs from his legs. His hard cock slaps up against his abdomen- a pearlescent string of pre-come hangs from the tip of his swollen head, and your breath hitches at the mere thought of lapping up the salty-sweet fluid there.

“You want a taste of it as badly as I want to be inside of you,” Rooster muses, his orbs blown almost fully black with desire.

You’re about to argue with him- even though he’s not wrong- until he gestures to the bed with a subtle nod of his head, and the words fizzle and fade in your throat.

Bodies slick with sheens of perspiration, you continue to shiver violently beneath him as he inches up the bed to drop his head into the crook of space between your neck and shoulder blade. His kisses lack the fiery intensity from before but are instead tender and lingering, and the notion of it makes you dizzy with hunger for him. He pulls away to straddle your thighs, taking his cock into his fist and stroking it, languidly. You watch him with a hooded gaze, the very image of him exactly like this, will be etched into your memory for all of eternity. A bead of sweat rolls down the side of his face, his normally pale cheeks burn pink with mounting pleasure, and you watch in awe as his head tips back, a pair of pink, full lips part in toe-curling bliss.

And fuck, he’s never looked more beautiful.

He’s working himself up well; another bead of pre-cum glistens tantalizingly at the head of his cock and you swallow hard, the urge to taste it still just as overpowering as before.

“Fuck,” He whines, halting his movements entirely. “Want to be inside of you so bad…” He lowers himself back to you, lining the head of his cock at the center of your wet, hot core. He teases you at first; rubs himself against your slick wetness, and just when you’re about to protest, he sinks himself into you.

“Oh,” You gasp; breathless from the sheer size of him.

Being filled by Rooster is one of those things you know you’ll never forget. It’s impossibly warm and so tight it’s almost painful- but it's also easily the most satisfied you’ve ever been. He goes slowly at first- he's careful to make sure you can feel every inch of him as he stretches you fully. His head drops to your collarbone, and a long sigh emanates his parted lips. “Fuck, you feel so goddamn good.”

His hips slam home again, causing you to spasm around him at the dizzying sensation of it all. His lips have found that achingly delicate part of your neck again, where they lick and suck and nibble and leave miniscule bruises in their wake.

Mementos.

He ruts into you shamelessly now; the aching push and pull of his cock inside of you has you both breathing heavily, ready, and awaiting the nearing end. Resting on the support of his elbows, his large, warm hands move to cradle your head, and he kisses your temple tenderly. He's close now; steadied movements fall in and out of rhythm, his cock throbbing and pulsing inside of you with each powerful thrust. You arch into him, bettering the angle at which he’s driving into you, and purposely rake your fingernails across the firm flesh of his back. He groans loudly at this particular sensation- his relationship with pain has always been complicated. Tilting his head back, his eyes close and his mouth falls slack with mounting pleasure.

“Tell me sweetheart,” He hisses so low you almost miss it over the sound of him fucking you into literal oblivion.

Dragging a sharp fingernail down the front of his toned chest, you gaze up at him. “Come for me, Rooster.”

His brows furrow, and his beautiful mouth twists up into a tight O. Tossing his head back in ecstasy, he stills his hips against yours and fills you to the brim with his hot release. You'll never be over the feeling of being truly full with him. Utterly spent and still riding the high of post-orgasm haze, his forehead drops to the crook of your neck where he allows himself a moment of respite before slipping from the heat of your core and rolling onto the space of bed beside you. It’s mostly silent in the room while you try to regulate your breathing; the only other noise is the slight pitter-patter of drizzle on glass window panes, and the odd F/A-18 overhead. Rooster turns on his side and gestures for you to turn over too so that he can curl up around you and you oblige him, happily.

After a couple minutes of comfortable silence, you excuse yourself to use the washroom. “When I get back, I want to hear more about this invisible string.”

And Rooster only chuckles lightly before complying. “I’ll be right here, kid.”

He’s lightyears away from you when you return, a pair of large hands steeple together atop of his chest, like he’s deep in thought about something. He’s not gone yet but the mission’s on his mind. How could it not be?

“You alright?” You ask, tentatively.

Rooster meets your gaze and hesitates before shrugging. “For the first time in a really long time, it feels like I have something to lose.”

Crawling back into bed, you take his hand into yours and press your lips to his temple. “You’re going to be back.”

But maybe he won’t.

He leans toward you and kisses your forehead gently. “Lay down, kid. Let me rub your back.”

You do as your told.

“So the string theory goes like this,” He whispers. “Two people connected by the red string are destined lovers, regardless of place, time, or circumstances.” He pauses to kiss your bare shoulder. "Wherever I go, you go with me."

“That’s how you feel about me?” You swallow hard, emotion thick in the hollow of your throat.

Rooster nods against you. “It’s how I’ve felt about you since the first day, sweetheart.”

When you know, you know.

You waken a couple of hours later to the realization that Rooster is already gone- his side of the bed vacant and cool to the touch. Your throat constricts at the possibility of never setting sights on him again, when something on your hand catches your eye.

He had managed to tie a crimson string to your left ring finger while you slept. A note on his pillow reads,

To my invisible string-

Whatever happens today, I’ve loved you in this life, and I’ll love you in the next.

Hope to see you soon,

Bradley

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #top gun: maverick #rooster bradshaw imagines #bradley bradshaw imagines #writing #smut #invisible string #all the feels

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roosterbox · 1 year

Text

So. Hannibal. I watched Episode one.

I took notes.

Apéritif

WILL GRAHAM MY DARLING MY LOVE

ach, such blood already. Nice.

This is my design *hypes*

Y’know, I’ve shipped Hannigram for years, never actually heard their voices.

On that note, Will’s voice is like HONEY.

Jack Crawford! Idk if I’m supposed to like him, but he’s played by Laurence Fishburne, so I can’t fully hate him.

Will Graham. Every time I see his face, I’m filled with love. Baby boy.

CAT! as a cat person, I love to see it

Oh, now where is this going???

Oh my god Beverly

All these dudes just barging in. Jackie, I thought you said Mai boi wouldn’t be interrupted?

WINSTON!!!!!1!11 ❤️❤️❤️

Will’s dogs ❤️❤️❤️

Jesus Christ Will, I’m not sure it’s normal to sweat that much while sleeping.

Jackie what did that crime board ever do to you?

USE THE LADIES ROOM lmaooo

Will sure loves his plaid shirts

This is one of the nicest bathrooms I’ve ever seen

Bev’s back, and being science-y

Ah, Alana. I like you. You kind of come between the hannigram at times, but I do like you.

“He won’t get too close” cut to Will at the autopsy. Very nice, Jack.

“He’s eating them”

Is this who I think it is?

AHHHHHH Hannibanni at last!

Oh god Hannibal has a honey voice too! I am not going to survive this series.

I have a man in a fancy suit weakness and Hannibal is like kryptonite

HANNIGRAM MEETING FOR THE FIRST TIME - an absolutely legendary moment

I can’t fucking breathe these twooooo

Oh my goooood Hannibal is *heart eyes motherfucker*

Will ‘the Hulk’ Graham apparently

Minnesota Shrike, eh? Interesting…

I love a man who cooks, lol

Moar cooking, yesssss

Abigail… *sigh*

Oooooh Will you sassy bitch ilu

Hanni, i adore you but wtf is that tie?

Ahhhhhhh house call

Hanni is smitten already

Will no don’t….. he ate it, lol.

“I don’t find you that interesting.” “You will.” *high pitched screaming*

Fragile little teacup lol

Mongoose

These two have the most interesting endearments, lol

And now they’re best friends

Investigating together, very nice

Hannibal what are you doing

They know.

Will, nobody should look that good spattered in blood

This is pretty intense

Hannibal says “you and I are her parents now, Will.”

Alana called you out, Jack. I knew I liked her.

Abigail has two daddies

So that was fun. My years of reading Hannigram have suitably hyped me up for this show. I’ll watch more tomorrow, perhaps.

#Hannibal #episode one season one #aperitif #i liked it #rooster takes notes while watching things #lol #it’s only the first episode but #the hannigram is real

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roosterforme · 9 months

Text

The Younger Kind Part 23 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: As the trial date creeps closer, Bradley is having a harder time keeping himself from panicking. After you learn some interesting things about Bradley from an unlikely source, you do a little bit of digging.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, smut, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 3800 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

You slept in until ten. You were sore. The good kind. The kind where you couldn't stop smiling. As you sat up in Bradley's bed and stretched, your eyes caught on your purple crown. There was a piece of paper hanging from it now. You reached for it and read the note he had left for you.

Princess,

I left my computer and the charger in the kitchen. I also plugged your phone in before I left. There are Skittles in the kitchen cabinet. Please text me when you get up. Noah asked if you're staying for dinner. Please stay for dinner.

I love you.

My computer password is password1234

You snorted and rolled your eyes. "Of course it is," you muttered, climbing out of bed and searching for something to wear. You made yourself some coffee with the vanilla creamer, and you spent the day filling out four job applications, eating Skittles, and attending a zoom lecture. You had done basically nothing strenuous, but by the time Bradley and Noah got back, you were yawning as you ran to see them.

"Hello, boys," you said, kneeling to hug Noah.

"Let's color dinosaurs," he told you, and you laughed as he led you to the table.

"Don't I get a kiss or anything?" Bradley asked, unbuttoning his uniform shirt.

You looked at him and said, "You keep that on and I'll kiss you somewhere special later."

His hand paused on the buttons before doing them back up again. "Does that mean... you'd like me to have the uniform on later? Like after bedtime?"

You licked your lips and looked up at him, going for the most innocent look you could manage. "Please?"

Bradley grunted and kissed you a little rough. You tasted his tongue before pulling away from him. "I have dinosaurs to color," you informed him, dropping down onto the seat next to Noah. "And dinner is in the oven. I hope you like lasagna."

"You already know I'll eat anything you make," Bradley said, kissing you on the top of your head.

Noah tried to pronounce lasagna until you were barely holding in your laughter. "What's that?" he asked, handing you a pink crayon.

"It's kind of like spaghetti," you promised, coloring in a tyrannosaurus rex. "I already know you like spaghetti, so I'm just trying to expand your palate."

"Okay," he said with a shrug. "Can I have ants on logs?"

You knew he was going to ask, so you had already made them. When you took the container out of the refrigerator, Noah and Bradley had them polished off in a matter of minutes. "Your weekly grocery bill is probably more than mine is for the month."

"I don't doubt it, Princess," Bradley said, biting into the last carrot stick, still in that sinfully hot uniform. "Let's eat dinner, and then I'll clean up while you and Noah play."

"And then you'll take me home?" you asked cautiously looking up at him where he stood.

"Do you want me to?"

You didn't answer him. You just turned back toward the coloring book while he pulled dinner out of the oven. Did you want to leave? And go back to your tiny, lonely rental? No. You were still wearing Bradley's clothes, and you kind of wanted some more of your own stuff, but you didn't want to leave. Not really. You said nothing, and he didn't ask again.

He did everything else to get dinner on the table. He plated the food, got drinks, and set the table. Then after everyone including Noah enjoyed the meal, he cleaned up. "You don't want help?" you asked, scooping Noah up in your arms. "Then we're going to watch some Mickey Mouse while we play with blocks."

"Sounds good," he said, putting some foil on the leftover. "Love you," he added casually as you took Noah into the other room. No, you did not want to leave.

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

Bradley was still wearing his uniform. He'd tried to change out of the shirt twice now, but both times you had stopped him. Noah was looking a little sleepy, and Bradley didn't know what you wanted to do. He wanted you to stay over again. He wanted you to stay over until he got through the court appearance on Wednesday and hopefully returned home with Noah, free and clear of Meredith. But honestly, he wanted you with him longer than that.

"Princess?" he asked softly, and you stood up from the pile of blocks that Noah was working on.

"Yes, Daddy?" you asked, standing right in front of him and smirking. If he was alone with you right now, that smirk would be gone in an instant.

"I need an answer, Baby. You want me to drive you home before I put Noah in bed for the night?"

Your hands found his waist as you gazed up at him. "I want to stay here, but I don't want to distract you leading up to Wednesday."

"Stay," he sighed. "Stay. We can swing by your place and pick up some of your things and then come right back here, okay? Stay."

So that's exactly what the three of you did. Bradley stayed in the Bronco with Noah while you ran inside your place for a couple minutes, and you came out with your usual tote bag plus a backpack.

"You don't mind if I keep using your computer, right?" you asked before you climbed back in the front seat.

"You can use anything at my place."

The smile you gave him in response had him thinking about asking you things he had no business asking you yet. He closed his eyes briefly before putting the Bronco in reverse and heading back to his house. When you reached for his hand in the dying light, he held yours. And when you asked to turn on the playlist you made for Noah, he fell even more in love with you.

Noah was half asleep by the time Bradley carried him inside, and when he reemerged from his son's room, you had changed into your own clothes. Bradley kind of missed his oversized shirts on you.

"I have a fun idea, Daddy," you said, and he was practically salivating in response. "I'm going to teach you how to cook."

His brow furrowed and he gave you a look. "That doesn't sound fun at all."

Your laughter in response had him agreeing with you anyway, and you were immediately coaxing him into the kitchen. "We can use up all of your food, and tomorrow I can go grocery shopping for you if you want. I could drop you and Noah off in the morning and then use your car."

"Baby, it's not a car.... it's a Bronco. And you can use it if you promise to be very, very careful with her. You can't park next to the cart return. Actually, you can't really park by anything. No trees, no shrubs, no other cars. Nothing."

You were trying not to laugh, he could tell. "Sure, Daddy. No problem. Now let's start cooking."

He kissed you softly. "You gonna let me change out of my uniform yet?"

"Don't ask me stupid questions. Of course not. You look hot. Now go ahead and grab all of the ingredients for this recipe," you told him, handing him your phone. He sighed and skimmed a recipe for chicken stir fry.

"Princess, there's no way I'm going to be able to make this," he murmured.

"That's an order, Lieutenant Bradshaw!" you snapped, and Bradley was instantly looking at you. "Or I'll make you do fifty push ups!"

"That's nothing, Baby. I'll do a hundred for you," he said with a smirk, but what he got in response was a slap on his ass.

"Get to work," you told him, hopping up on the counter with a bag of Skittles and a no-nonsense look on your face.

"Oh, shit," he mumbled, reading through the recipe again.

"And that dinner better be edible, or I'm not going to suck your cock, Lieutenant."

"Yes, ma'am." He read the recipe a third time before he got the chicken out of the refrigerator. Bradley was starting to get a little nervous about Meredith, but you were certainly helping him keep his mind off of that. He got a cutting board and a knife ready along with some vegetables.

"Don't forget the salt," you whispered, holding out a green Skittle and popping it in his mouth.

"Thank you," he whispered back. And you kept offering him little hints here and there. You told him he was cutting the vegetables too small, and then you fed him a purple Skittle. You told him the oil needed to be hotter, and then you fed him a yellow one. You reminded him to keep moving the food around in the pan, and then you let him take a red Skittle from between your lips with his mouth.

"You're better at cooking than you think," you told him. "Noah won't have to keep eating boxed foods."

"That's really your goal here, isn't it?" he asked you, pushing his sweaty hair back from his forehead with his forearm.

"Of course. I'm not worried about you. I'm worried about him," you replied with a playful eye roll. "What's he supposed to eat when I'm not around?"

"Why would you not be around?" he asked cautiously. Then his mind started swarming with thoughts of Noah living with Meredith.

He watched you chew on a Skittle before you softly said, "I'll be around." Your eyes dipped down his chest to his pins and buttons. You looked so young and sweet, and you reached for the knob to turn the burner off. "Don't want it to burn."

Bradley nodded and got a plate down. He carefully scooped some of the hot food onto the plate and handed it to you for inspection. "Give me a fork, Lieutenant," you commanded, and Bradley grabbed one from the drawer while you blew on the food. "I just ordered you a rice cooker and an apron from Amazon. The rice cooker will make your life easier, and you'll look cute in an apron that says Hot Daddy."

Bradley laughed as you raised the fork to your lips. "Thank you, but baby, I don't want you spending your money on me. You haven't even graduated yet."

"Just pretend like you never paid me to watch Noah, okay? I don't like that you ever did."

"Okay," he whispered, placing one hand on either side of you where you sat on the kitchen counter. He watched you take a bite of the chicken, and you moaned softly. Then you tried some of the vegetables before you fed him a bite.

"It's so good. And I barely helped you at all."

Bradley was actually impressed that he'd made something that tasted that nice. "So I have no excuse now but to make Noah a homemade dinner? Is that what you're saying?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," you said, smiling at him as he set the plate aside. "You know how to cook, Lieutenant. I'm so proud of you."

He leaned in and rubbed his nose against yours before kissing you. "Do you still want me to do push ups for you?"

"Kind of," you replied, kissing his mustache. "Just because it would be sexy."

Bradley did fifty push ups while you stood in front of him and counted them off, and he looked up at your legs and your denim shorts the whole time.

"Damn, Daddy," you groaned as he hopped up when he was done like it was nothing. "My boyfriend is so strong!" He didn't even have time to respond before you were unzipping his pants and slipping your hand inside.

When you knelt in front of him, he said, "You weren't kidding about sucking my cock, huh?"

"Not at all," you whispered looking up at him. Your lips were glossy again. Whatever you grabbed from your house, it must have included your lip stuff. God, he loved the way you looked. He loved the way you felt. He loved your tongue, licking the bead of his precum away as you stroked him with your hands.

"You're really fucking good at this," he moaned as you wrapped your lips around him and sucked gently. He stroked your cheek as you took him a little deeper, swirling your tongue as he throbbed. "Goddamn it." The slow, deliberate drag of your lips along his length was enough to make him buck gently.

You moaned around him before pulling him free, and then Bradley was treated to you sucking on his balls until he was panting. "Baby," he whined, his cock resting on your face. You weren't going to let him go any faster. He couldn't decide if fast or slow was what he wanted, so he left you in charge.

And he was not disappointed when you licked him from balls to tip and said, "I want you to cum on my face."

He ran his knuckles along your cheek and chin. "You're so gorgeous, Princess. I'd love to paint you up and make you even prettier."

"Daddy," you whined before taking him so deep he saw stars. You bobbed along his length, gagging as you tried to take all of him. Your hand was cupping his balls and your saliva was dripping onto the floor as you gagged again. You looked up at him with watery eyes, and this time when he stroked your cheek, he could feel himself.

"So good," Bradley growled. "God, you're the best."

You sucked and bobbed until he was sure he was going to lose his mind, and then he withdrew with a snap of his hips. He stroked himself twice, whispered, "I'm about to cum," and then he watched you flinch and giggle as ribbons of white landed on your cheeks and lips. His cum hit your nose, and then you opened your mouth for him.

"Fuck," he grunted, pumping every last bit onto your beautiful features, and then he was between your lips again as you licked him clean.

"Baby, don't move," he begged, scrambling to find his phone. "Will you let me take a picture?"

"Yes," you said with a laugh, licking him from your lips. "You can add it to your dirty photo album. Remember the passcode?"

"I sure do," he grunted, snapping a few pictures of you kneeling on his kitchen floor with his cum on your face. And then he was kneeling too and kissing you and telling you he loved you.

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

You slept better in Bradley's arms than you ever did at home. He told you once you were curled up in his bed with him that he was getting nervous about the custody hearing. You tried to be encouraging. "There's no way anyone would let someone take Noah away from you. You're his only parent as far as he's concerned. He only knows love from you, Bradley."

"And you," he said softly. Warmth filled your heart as he added, "Noah knows that you love him. He lights up around you, and he's just as comfortable with you as he is with me. You're the best thing that ever happened to us."

You were supposed to be the one comforting him. But you ended up dozing off in his arms filled with hope instead. The next morning, he let you drive his Bronco "as a test" on the way to Noah's daycare. You had offered to keep Noah with you for the day instead, but Bradley insisted you spend your time finishing your school projects.

"Okay," Bradley said as you parked in the daycare lot. "I'm fine with you driving the Bronco around. Do you remember the rules about parking lots?"

"Oh my god," you mumbled. "You're really not going to get Noah out and move along with your day until I answer correctly, are you?"

"No." His face looked serious as you laughed and promised you wouldn't park next to the cart return, another car or any sort of living plant.

"That's my Princess," he crooned, running Noah inside once you'd said goodbye to him. Then you dropped Bradley off at work, but this time, you crawled across the seat to straddle his lap for a moment.

"I love you," he whispered as you combed your fingers through his hair and kissed him.

"I love you too, Daddy. I'll pick you up here at five," you promised, pressing your forehead to his. "And then I'll cuddle you all night, and you won't be worried about tomorrow at all. I can see on your face that you're thinking about Meredith. But think about Noah instead."

He wrapped his arms around you and sighed. "I'm always thinking about Noah. And you. And us." He kissed you one last time, and you let him climb out. "I love you, Princess."

You waved to him on the sidewalk, and then Jake joined him, and you waved to both of them. Then you stuck your head out the window and called out, "Can't wait to have you again later, Bradley! Oh, hi, Jake."

Then you started the engine again as your boyfriend laughed while Jake walked away. If you could at least make him laugh today, maybe that would make dealing with tomorrow a little easier. But it was hard not to think about what he and Noah might be up against. You couldn't let yourself dwell on it. Instead you drove to the grocery store with Bradley's credit card tucked inside your wallet.

You got all the staples, including your coffee creamer and everything you would need to make a big batch of ants on logs. Then you picked out some things you could teach Bradley how to make along with everything Noah liked. And you spent over two hundred dollars. Bradley had assured you that you could get whatever you thought they all needed and put it on his credit card.

You were skimming the receipt as you pushed your cart to the Bronco. "Yikes," you muttered, loading bag after bag into the back, extra careful not to bump his precious vehicle with the cart. Then you closed it up and took the cart to the return.

Just as you were digging his key out of your pocket, you looked up. You made eye contact with Meredith. She was standing there, right next to the Bronco.

"What do you want?" you asked. Your voice sounded strong, and you realized you were not even slightly intimidated by this woman when Noah wasn't with you. What could she really do to you in the middle of a parking lot at nearly ten in the morning?

She looked angry, eyeing you up and down and glancing at the Bronco. "I can't believe he lets you drive that. It's worth a fortune," she said, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder and scowling.

The car key was digging into your clenched fist, but you didn't close the distance to her. "Let me rephrase my question: What the fuck do you want, Meredith?"

"Such a filthy mouth on you. And you're spending time with my child," she said casually. "Lovely."

"Are you following me?"

She rolled her eyes, and you hated her so much. You supposed you could see how she was physically attractive, but you only felt the desire to kick her.

"I'm not following you. I'm about to go grocery shopping. This is the store I always come to. But I wouldn't mind chatting a bit. I'd be more than happy to use your potty mouth and the fact that you're sleeping with Bradley against him in court."

You laughed out loud. "Well, you'd have to actually show up first. Are you going to be there tomorrow? Or run and hide at the last minute again?"

Her scowl was back. "You have a lot of questions, huh? Well, so do I. Is all that life insurance money still in an account for Noah? Or did you spread your legs open wide enough to get Bradley to pay for your little nursing degree?"

You gasped out loud. You would never do that. You loved Noah and Bradley. And now you were afraid you'd just walked into a trap. Meredith was looking at you from ten feet away like it was a showdown. One that she intended to win, because she brought the correct ammunition when you clearly had not.

"I guess the money is still there then," she said, starting to look more satisfied. "You know he'll never commit to you, right? He was always afraid of commitment."

"Yet you're the one who abandoned her child," you said softly, but not without conviction.

She took a step closer to you, venom in her voice. "I didn't want to be held down, but things change."

"Do you even want him? Or are you just trying to get back at Bradley?" you asked, unable to stop yourself. "Because Noah deserves a family who loves him. You left them. But Bradley loves him. Bradley would do anything for him."

Her voice was like steel. "And I deserve a lot more than what I'm getting." She spun on her heel and started to charge away.

"What does that mean?!" you called after her. But she didn't stop or turn back. "Meredith!" You got nothing but the back of her blonde hair, and then she was in her BMW and driving away.

"What the hell?" you muttered to yourself, hands shaking as you put the key in the ignition and started the Bronco. You had to sit for a minute until you were calm enough to drive. Thank goodness you hadn't kept Noah with you today. Thank goodness you'd been alone. And at least Bradley didn't have to deal with this either.

Oh, he was going to be so upset when you told him later. He'd be mad you didn't interrupt him at work this instant, but you weren't going to do that. You needed to get back to his house right away and get on his computer. Carefully, you put the Bronco in drive. Apparently this thing was worth a fortune. Bradley had a nice house, and he probably paid a pretty penny for Noah's fancy daycare. He told you to spend his money on whatever you wanted at the grocery store. But there was some sort of life insurance money, too? What was going on here?

Your brain was swimming, or maybe drowning as you parked in Bradley's driveway and forced yourself to carry in the groceries and put all of the food away before you locked the front door behind you and turned his computer on. You entered his ridiculous password which you were definitely going to have to make him change, and you started your search.

Hours went by, and you subsided on only coffee. Then you checked the time on your phone. It was almost five o'clock. You were going to be late to pick them up, and now you had more questions than answers as you ran back out to the Bronco.

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

Okay, Meredith. Okay. Daddy will see you in the courtroom. Hope you enjoy your fic, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !

PART 24

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ohtobeleah · 7 months

Text

My Brothers Keeper // Jake Seresin

Summary: Five seconds faster and Jake Seresin wouldn’t be standing in his bedroom telling the love of his life the biggest lie he’d ever told.

Warnings: Relationship breakdown. Jake Seresin x F!reader.

Word Count: 2k

Author Note: Day Four of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Betrayal. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“You have to stop taking your grief out on me.” There wasn’t an awful lot more Jake Seresin could have done about it. And the only thing he could think of that could fix the situation he found himself in was to go back in time, fly a little faster, and save your brother and what Jake could only describe as your ‘adoptive’ fathers, lives.

But he couldn’t bend the laws of physics anymore than he could bend time. So, he stayed standing in your living room—watching as you folded up the remaining bits of laundry you’d been neglecting to put away.

You hadn’t spoken in three very long, very silent days. The home you shared had become a silent battle ground of unspoken fear, grief and anger. You could cut the tension with a knife it had gotten so bad—but Jake gave you the space you so clearly needed. Until now—

“Leave me alone Jake.”

During those three days all Jake could think about was how he might lose you because he wasn’t a good enough pilot to be able to save Maverick and Rooster. He wasn’t fast enough, he wasn’t prepared enough—

Hell he wasn’t brave enough.

“Okay, I cannot, no matter how much you blame me—no matter how much you ask, no matter how much you criticize, ignore my existence or question me, I cannot bring them back baby.” Jake made his way across the space when you didn’t answer him, he missed the way things used to be before that damned mission. He crouched to his knees across from you—piles of washing kept a little distance. But none of that stopped Jake from tilting your chin up so that you had no choice but to look at him as he spoke. Nothing stopped him from cupping your cheeks in his hands just to run his thumbs across your soft and supple cheeks.

“I’m right here, I’m right in front of you baby—“ You and Jake had been on rocky rounds since he’d called you to inform you that your brother, Bradley Bradshaw and your uncle or, as some would be more comfortable referring to him as your dad, Pete Mitchell had both been killed during a mission. “Please look at me?” Jake continued to guide your gaze to his eyes. He smiled softly when you finally gave him the time of day. “I’m right here, just talk to me.”

He had to be the one who told you.

Jake couldn’t leave that task to anyone else—it was the least he could do, considering he had been the one who’d gone after them.

“I don’t even know who I’m looking at anymore.” There was a sickening feeling that hadn’t left your body since Jake had told you two of the most important people in your life had both died. “I don’t believe you when you say that you, Hangman, did everything you could to try and save them.”

You never called Jake Hangman, you knew deep down how much the meaning behind his callsign kept him up at night. But here you were, throwing it right back in his face.

Jake Seresin thought you loved him, understood who he was to the very bone. Jake thought you trusted him, knew his mind, body and soul. He had a ring tucked away in his bedside table—a Diamond worth more than he could afford. But yet here you were:

Just like all the others who ever came before you.

Jake thought you were different, that you saw him for who he really was. You were Bradley Bradshaw's little sister, the barista who made the world's most perfect oat milk vanilla lattes and just so happened to work at the coffee stand on base while Jake was stationed in Lemoore. Did he know you were Rooster's little sister? Not initially. Did he back down when he’d connected all the dots? No—he still thought you were just the sweetest thing.

But now you were sitting right in front of him, folding laundry that you’d neglected, calling him a liar after he’d told you all that he knew and all that he did.

“I don’t believe you when you say you didn’t hold back, that you did everything you could have to get there in time because I know you—“ Jake had dropped his hand a long time ago at this point. But he still sat there right in front of you and took the metaphorical beating you gave his person, his very being. “And I know that deep down, you and Bradley hated each other with such a passion that as soon as the opportunity came up where you could get rid of him? you took it.”

It was misguided anguish, Jake knew that. But this was getting a little too personal for his ego to handle.

“Is that what you really think?” Jake asked softly as he watched you get up off the ground with a huff. You’d promised you wouldn’t cry anymore, but you should have learnt by now not to make promises you couldn’t keep. “Do you really think I hated your brother so much that I'd just let him die?”

It wasn't just a question of morality, it was a question of character. Just who did you really think Jake was?

“Don’t walk away from me!” Jake hissed as he got up off the living room floor to follow you. Hell three weeks ago he thought he’d follow you anywhere on earth. Now he wasn’t too sure if you’d even let him. “Y/n! Don’t you dare walk away from me.”

“Leave me alone Jake!” You spat back as you made your way down the hallway towards your bedroom. “Before I say something I’ll regret.”

“Oh no honey, let's air out all our grievances now!” It was the condescending tone you didn’t appreciate the most as Jake followed you into your shared bedroom. He slammed the door so hard behind him that it nearly came off its hinges. It made you freeze in your place, the loud obnoxious sound of the door slamming shut rattled in your mind as Jake's footsteps grew heavy as he walked closer and closer to you. “Fucking tell me you don’t mean what you said.” He growled with a disdain in his temperament. “TELL ME!”

You’d never seen your boyfriend so mad before. Usually Jake was pretty content, but it was clear that your suspicions had struck a raw nerve.

“You killed my brother.” Was all you said as the backs of your legs hit the side of your bed. “And you killed the only man who was ever remotely my dad.” Jake could see it in your eyes—you believed every word you spoke with enough conviction that he even questioned what the truth of the matter was. “You're meant to be the best! But yet you weren’t good enough to save the two most important men in my life!?”

“I did everything that I could!” Jake was beginning to lose his damn mind as he pulled at his hair and clenched his jaw so hard he thought his teeth might break. “I love you, I really do but you are taking this too far Y/n—I didn’t kill your family! The enemy did, they were the ones who flew a little faster in better jets with better equipment and they were the ones who fired the missile—NOT ME!”

Jake knew you didn’t believe him, he knew that you’d already left before you had the guts to say it. He could see it written all over your face like a bad breakup song from the nineties. You couldn’t sleep beside the man who you blame with every fiber of your being for the deaths of your father and brother.

But you just couldn’t pull the trigger.

“Is this really how it’s gonna be?” Jake asked as he stepped a little closer, his chest was practically pressed against yours as you held your ground. “You blame me, I deny deny deny until my dying breath and we keep going around in circles like this?” The feeling of Jake's palm against your cheek had your tears welling, his thumb brushed against the apple of your cheek and all those stray hairs were now tucked back behind your ear. “I thought you knew me baby, c’mon, look at me yeah? Do you really think that I didn’t do enough?”

The silence that lingered spoke volumes. Jake knew right then and there that he had to leave, he had to step away. He couldn’t keep doing this—begging you to remember who he was because you were so clouded by your own grief.

Never once had you asked if he was okay. Never once had you asked how he was, if he was going alright after getting there just five seconds too late. You never asked if he laid awake at night playing that scenario over and over in his mind—never. You never asked because you didn’t care. You didn’t believe he was an innocent man in all of this.

“You know what?” But Jake Seresin was good at putting up walls to protect his heart. He was good at playing pretend, playing the part in people’s lives that they needed him to be. It was just easier to be The Hangman than it was to be Jake. Standing before the love of his life realizing that he would always and forever be remembered as the man who killed her brother was a role he never thought he’d play:

But for you he’d do it, and he’d do it well.

“Fine—I admit it.” Jake stepped back to put some distance between the two of you. He knew he’d never be so close to you again. It broke his heart into a million pieces but if this was who you really needed him to be he’d be that person. “I could have done more, but I chose not to.”

“Jake—“ You’d been thinking about it for days, the possibility, the probability that Jake had more involvement than he was leading you to believe. But hearing him actually say it threw everything you thought you knew out the window, along with your relationship.

“All your brother ever did was sit on that fucking perch of his and the one time he needed to get off? He wasn’t nearly capable enough to get himself out of a tough situation.” Jake had never hated Bradley, sure they had their tiffs and differences over the years but never did he ever hate the guy. “And Mav? His arrogance finally caught up with him! You should take some fucking comfort in the fact they’re both with your dead daddy now—it’s one big family fucking reunion because I chose to not take the shot when I so clearly had it!”

It was the biggest betrayal you’d ever experienced.

“Get out!”

“What! You’ve been blaming me for everything since before the funerals and now you wanna stand there and pretend you didn’t see it fucking coming?” Jake scoffed as he made his way across the room to collect a few things he’d need before showing up to Coyote's front door with his tail between his legs.

It was the biggest betrayal Jake had ever experienced.

“Leave! Get out of my house! Get out of my life before you have a chance to take anything else away from me!” You had never felt such a heartbreak, felt such a loss than when you finally heard Jake admit it. He could have saved them, but he chose not to for his own selfish reasons.

But Jake was a good man, he had his morals and his own heart to protect. He’d never forgiven himself for not being just a fraction faster—because when he saw that F-14 explode with two of the most important people in your life inside as his thumb grazed the trigger—he knew he’d lost you too.

“Trust me Bradshaw, you’ve got nothing left to fucking lose.” ***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**~***~

Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt

#ailesswhumptober2023 #Leah’s whumptober Masterlist #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x female!reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman fic

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topguncortez · 7 months

Text

A Letter to My Grandchild - Rooster & Dragon

over the rainbow series | rooster & dragon masterlist | main masterlist

synopsis: Maverick isn't known for keeping a lot of things from his past, but he did hang on to a beat up old shoe box for the day his best friend's boy would grow up and settle down

word count: 2.3k

warnings: pregnancy, mentions of past pregnancies, mentions of character death, cursing

note: nope y'all didn't miss any parts. it's just me, writing out of order. and I wanted to give y'all something cute and sweet before whumptober starts:)

Maverick wasn’t sure how long he had held on to the letter, let alone remembered where he had put it. Penny thought he had finally lost his mind when she came home to boxes of Mav’s stuff strewn all over the living room. Maverick had never ever been labeled a “pack-rat” choosing to live very modestly, but there was some stuff he had kept over the years. One of those things had been a couple of envelopes that Carole had given to him the last time he saw her alive. Carole could hardly keep her eyes open from the pain medication but she had managed to direct Maverick towards her closet and grab an old shoe box that had been tucked away in the corner.

“You give that to him. . . when he becomes a father,” She had whispered to Maverick. He had promised his best friend’s widow that he would keep the box safe and protect it with his life. He swore that if his house was on fire, that old shoe box from Yonkers would be the one thing he ran back in and saved.

Maverick didn’t even bother to wrap the shoe box or remove its contents into some nicer box. Instead, he slapped a bright pink bow on it and set it on the gifts table with the others, sticking out like a sore thumb. He stood in the back of the crowded bar with Jake and the rest of the guys, watching as Dragon and Rooster took their time opening up the gifts and holding them up so everyone could see. Phoenix sat to the right of her sister, already taking on the doting aunt duty by writing down what the gift was and who it was from.

Maverick still couldn’t believe that he was standing in the same room as Bradley Bradshaw, celebrating the soon to be birth of his child. If you would’ve told him ten years ago that he would be “grandpa mav”, he probably would’ve laughed in your face. There was no way on earth that anyone, let alone a child of Bradley’s would be calling him “grandpa”. Those years of hatred and no communication seemed to be a distant memory now as Maverick watched the kid who was basically his son try to hold back tears while holding newborn onesies and baby blankets.

The baby shower was shark theme, which had to have been 100% Dragon’s idea, and Rooster went along with it. Dragon was at the point in her pregnancy where all Rooster could do was nod along and agree with her. So if was sharks that she wanted ontop of carrot cake cupcakes, than it was sharks on top of carrot cake cupcakes she got. It was moments like these, where Maverick could see the resemblance between Rooster and Goose. Two Bradshaw men who would’ve gone to the ends of the earth to make their partners happy.

“Last one!” Phoenix smiled, and handed Dragon a beat up old shoe box, “It’s from Mav.”

“You couldn’t have wrapped it!?” Penny scolded, lightly smacking her husband’s arm.

Pete just shrugged, “Adds character.” Penny rolled her eyes. Dragon chuckled, carefully removing the top. Her eyes widened for a moment, then she looked up to look at her husband.

“Rooster,” Dragon whispered, her eyes starting to fill with tears as she looked down at the contents of the box. Bradley leaned over her shoulder, his eyebrows furrowed, “Look.” Dragon handed him the shoebox, and he felt his breath get caught in his throat.

“Are these all from-”

“Your mom and Dad from various deployments. There’s some written after his death too,” Maverick said, “She promised me to keep that box for you.”

Rooster nodded, his eyes feeling the sting of tears, “Th-” He cleared his throat, “Thanks. I’ll have to read them.” Dragon grabbed his hand and squeezed it, “Thanks everyone for the gifts. It’s clear that Baby Bradshaw is gonna be one spoiled duck.”

“Hell yeah!” Jake cheered, raising his glass, only to be swatted by his wife for his language.

— — —

Later that night, after Bradley had joined Dragon for a bath, and rubbed her feet until she fell asleep, he grabbed that old, worn shoebox and sat down at the kitchen table. He poured himself a glass of scotch and grabbed his glasses, sitting in the orange glow from the light above the stove. There were probably a hundred letters in the shoebox, some of them bound together with a rubber band with notes on them. Carole had grouped together letters that were sent from when Goose was either at the academy, in flight school, or deployed. Bradley carefully ran his fingers over his parent’s handwriting as he shifted through the box, landing on one letter in particular.

‘Open when: you become a father

It was his mother’s handwriting, Bradley could tell by the curly tails of some of the letters. He gently opened the worn envelope that had a coffee stain on it, which always seemed to be a signature of Carole Bradshaw letter. Bradley could remember the various birthday and Easter cards that somehow had a coffee stain on the envelope. He unfolded the sheets of paper, and sucked in a breath as he began to read.

‘Dear Bradley,

If you are reading this it means two things, I am no longer with you. Though it is sad, you must remember that my earthly body is no longer there, but my soul remains with you always. The other thing that this means, is means you are about to be a father.

Your dad once told me the greatest thing to ever happen to him was becoming a father. Now, I thought he was lying to make me feel better about getting pregnant so young and when his career was just getting started, but he assured me that it was the truth. And for those three years, I got to watch him live up to that truth.

You might not remember a whole lot about your father, but he was a damn good one. Bradley, he loved you more than anything in the world. More than flying with Maverick, more than the Phillies, and more than apple pie on Sunday afternoons. He once told me that he could walk away from flying forever and be just fine because he would have you to fill his time.

I bet you are scared, and that’s okay. Goose was too, but do you know what he used to say about being scared? “What is life without a little fear? A life that is not one at all.” But I assure you, that parenthood is the best time of your life. There is nothing better than watching your child grow and become their own person. My favorite thing was watching you become an adult and spread your wings on your own. There comes a time in your life when you will sit back and say to yourself: “Yep. I did that.” as your child gets ready to leave the home and start a life of their own.

There are three simple rules to live by when it comes to being a parent:

Celebrate everything - no matter how big or small

Write down a note or two about the day, it’ll help you remember when you get old like me

Love can conquer all - remember to tell them that.

Oh, how I wish I could meet the person you fell for. Bradley, your heart is so big, I just know that whoever it is you met has a big heart just like you. You need someone to challenge you, someone who has the same spitfire and determination as you. Whomever it is, I hope you treat each other respectfully and always say I Love You before you leave for the day and every night. And remember no house is complete without an ironing board.

Bradley, I hate to leave this earth before you really get a chance to be on your own. It hurts me that you are about to walk into adulthood on your own and start a family without your own, but remember, I am always there. If you need me, turn to the sky, and I will guide you. We will both guide you.

We love you, Bradley.

Always have & Always will,

-love,

Mom.

P.s. I also found a letter that your dad wrote when we found out we were pregnant with you.

P.p.s I hope you can forgive Maverick one day. He only did what he thought was best.’

Bradley didn’t even know Dragon had walked into the kitchen until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He jumped and looked up at her, a small smile on her face. He pushed his chair back from the table and pulled her to sit down on his lap, his hand instantly resting on her protruding bump. Dragon gently cupped his cheek in her hand, wiping away a tear he didn’t know rolled down his cheek.

“You weren’t in bed,” Dragon mumbled, running a hand through his curls, “The baby wouldn’t settle down without you.”

“‘M sorry,” Bradley said, placing a kiss on her cheek, “Wanted to look through these.”

“Yeah?” Dragon asked and he nodded, “Do you care if I-?”

“Oh go ahead,” Bradley said, “I was just about to read this one from my dad. . . C-can you read it, actually? I don’t think I can.”

“Of course, baby,” Dragon said and picked up the letter. She smiled looking at the messy, yet familiar handwriting, “You two have the same handwriting,” She looked at his baby cow brown eyes, “Dear Baby Bradshaw,” Dragon read, “Wow, you two really have a lot in common.”

“Hush,” Bradley chuckled, “It’s not my fault my child is ‘camera shy’ and won’t tell us what they are.”

“‘Camera shy’ my ass,” Dragon rolled her eyes, mumbling the words that their midwife had told them about 10 weeks ago, “I ain’t ever heard of a Bradshaw being ‘camera shy’.”

“Must get it from their mama,” Bradley smiled.

“As long as they don’t come out with my attitude, I’ll be okay with that,” Dragon sighed, and continued reading, “‘Dear Baby Bradshaw, I would call you by your name if you had one, so Baby Bradshaw it is.

I’m writing this letter because I can’t sleep, my mind is too awake. I know I should be cashing in on the sleep before you get here, but there’s just too much going on.

We got to see you today and hear your heartbeat. It was nice and strong and had a sound that was even better than Great Balls of Fire. I could never tire of hearing your heartbeat. Next appointment I’m gonna have to record it so I can listen to you whenever I can. The doc said you were growing nicely, which is good. Your mom and I want you to grow big and strong.

We have been waiting for you for a long time. Your mom is probably a bit more than me. I’m not going to beat around the bush, when she told me she was pregnant, I got scared. Am I really ready to be a dad? Am I dad material? Can I be a good dad? I had a good dad growing up, he didn’t do more than what was expected of him. So I don’t really know what I have to do. I guess that’s something I will learn as we go.

I know your mom is just going to be the best. I’ve seen her with the young kids running around base, and it is one of those things that makes my heart flutter. She’s just a natural and the kids seemed to be drawn to her. She cares for them and makes them smile and giggle. She is already getting things set up for you and you aren’t even here! The poor woman is making my wallet hurt!

You are going to be so spoiled, not just by us but by your Uncle Maverick too. He’s already shown up with teddy bears and onesies and some child aviators, which I have no idea where he even got! I’m guessing it's got something to do with a certain Admiral’s daughter he’s been seeing. You didn’t hear this from me. . . but I think Penny might be the one for your ol’ uncle Mav. That is if he can ever settle down.

Hell, you might settle down and get married before your Uncle Mav ever does.

I gotta be honest with you for a second kid, I’m scared to be your father. I don’t have the most ideal job in the world. Flying planes with my best friend has been my everything (don’t tell your mother). It’s been one of the best parts of my life. I love being in the sky, watching the world from up above. I love knowing that I am protecting people. People who don’t have the means to fight for themselves. But being able to protect people comes with a risk. A risk that one day, those enemies might turn the page and come after me.

There might be a day when I am no longer on this earth with you, baby Bradshaw. It hurts to think about, leaving behind you and your mother, but it’s the harsh reality of doing something I love. But I promise you, if something were to happen to me, Baby Bradshaw, you will be taken care of. You will have all the means to get by. You and your mom will never have to worry, I can swear to you that. But Baby Bradshaw remember one thing:”

Bradley had hardly felt like he could cry for his father. He barely knew him and didn’t feel right to cry for a man he hardly knew. Plus, he had watched his mother cry for years and Bradley felt like he had to be strong for her. But now, sitting in the arms of the woman he loved, Bradley let years of pent-up grief out. Dragon held him tightly in her arms, as he rested his head in the crook of her neck. Bradley’s large hand rested on her belly, fingers splayed out as if he could protect the growing life inside her from the outside world. She gently ran her hand up and down his back, a trick she remembered her mother doing to her when she cried, to try and soothe him.

Dragon sniffled, and picked up the letter, reading the last line:

“I love you and I will always be with you, no matter where on this earth or in the sky I am.

-love your dad,

Goose’”

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vicsnook · 4 months

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Tis the Damn Season | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

word count: 1318

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, 18+

notes: Hey y’all! I know its been a while, I’ve been dealing with a huge writers block but had this little idea while on the plane. Please forgive any errors, I didn’t read it back before posting it. Happy Holidays!

With your dad sick this Christmas it’s not surprising your mom would asked you to come home. So here you were, pulling into the familiar driveway taking notice of the Bronco parked in your neighbors yard, one you knew all too well.

A note taped to the refrigerator reminded you your parents would be back from the hospital tomorrow. Maybe a drink could make the night better you thought but the liquor cabinet was of course empty and the town doesn’t sell alcohol on Sundays. So that’s how you ended up walking through the doors of the only bar in town.

“Is that who I think it is?” Bradley Bradshaw hollered from behind the bar as you made your way to him. His hair was definitely a little longer and he sported the mustache he joked about growing all through high school. The years had been if anything, very kind to him.

“Hey Rooster, I didn’t know you worked here.” You said, taking a seat across from him, truth is if you’d known, you would’ve never come here. “I’m just helping Ronnie out ‘til my leave is over. Want your usual?” He asked, offering you a half-smile while his dark brown eyes burned into yours. “Sur- Sure,” you managed to stammer out. Memories of the last time you were here flooding back in as you watched him prepare your drink.

“So, you here for long?” He asked between customers and while you know he’s just trying to not make things awkward, you can’t help the knot forming in your throat. “Just for the week.”

“Bradley! Over here honey! More shots!” shouted a blonde from the other side of the bar before he could reply and you sighed gratefully for the distraction. Setting down the cash for your tab and booking it out the bar while he went to her table.

Your hands were shaky as you pried open the car handle and tried to start the car. This was a bad idea you muttered to yourself over as you turned the key. The radio announced a snowstorm tonight and as if on cue your mother called to say they wouldn’t be able to come home ‘til the roads cleared.

—

Waking up freezing in your childhood bedroom was definitely not great. Power had gone out due to the storm and you had no wood for the fireplace. Dreadfully, you made your way to your neighbors to see if they had any to spare. Regretting not putting on another jacket and better shoes. You eyed the bronco that was almost fully covered by snow while waiting on someone to open the door.

“Y/N?” Murmured a confused looking Bradley. You wondered how he could be shirtless and just in sweats in this cold weather.

“Hey, sorry to bother, power’s out and we have no wood for the fireplace.” You said through your chattering teeth. “Let’s talk inside,” he replied, ushering you inside the candle lit living room.

The room looked just as it did 3 years ago when you broke off your engagement to Bradley. He was dead set on joining the Navy and refused to hear yours and Carole’s pleas to not follow in his fathers footsteps. “Mom doesn’t have any extra wood. You can stay, though, not sure when power will be back.” Said Bradley as he came back from the back porch where Maverick stocked wood for Carole every winter.

“Thank you, so how’s everything?” You said, taking a seat on the couch. Silently praying the power would come back on. “Great, just working all the time. I graduated from Top Gun a few months ago.” His eyes bore deep into your as he mentioned Top Gun. You’d had nightmares about him being in the Academy since Carole told you.

“Oh um, that's great. I’m sure your dad would be really proud.” You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth. Bradley’s face reddened with what you could only assume was anger.

“Don’t you dare say that Y/N, not after you and mom tried to use what happened to him to change my mind.” He hissed, sending shivers down your spine. Bradley was never quick to anger unless his dad was brought up. “I’m -I’m so sorry Bradley, I didn’t mean to upset you. I should go.” You stammered, getting up and rushing for the front door.

“Wait,” He grabbed hold of your hand before you made it into the foyer, Spinning you around and onto his chest. Being this close to him again had your heart nearly beating out of your chest. “I’m sorry, I know you didn’t mean any harm. It’s just Mav tried to pull my papers and I almost didn’t even get to go to the Academy.” He muttered, you could smell the mint in his breath from how close his face was to yours. He placed a lock of your hair behind your ear, making the words catch in your throat. “I’ve missed you, Y/N.”

Those brown eyes that you’ve missed for 3 years now were staring intently into yours, waiting for an answer. Before you knew it, you were pulling his face down to yours and kissing the warmest lips you’ve ever known.

Your hands explored his unclothed torso as the kiss intensified and he pulled off your jacket. “I’ve missed you too,” you whispered in between kisses.

He pulled your pajama shirt off and slowly guided you back into the living room. Setting you down carefully on the couch. Your hands tugged his sweatpants down and you were grateful for his lack of underwear. Taking his hard cock into your hands and pumping it. “S-Slow down honey,” he moaned into your ear. He pulled your pajama shirt off as you shimmied off your pants. “Red? Merry Christmas to me.” He muttered, pulling down your red panties that you had a hunch you would not get to keep.

“I need you,” You moaned in his ear as he toyed with your clit. He slid the head of his cock between your folds, slowly pushing it in. You threw your head back in pleasure, no one else felt as good as him.

Your nails dug into his back as he picked up the pace and kissed your neck. Leaving a trail of hickeys that you’d definitely have to cover up tomorrow. “You feel so good baby,” he moaned, playing with your clit and increasing the pace of his thrusts.

Feeling your orgasm getting closer you grabbed on to his biceps, trying to help increase his pace. He knew so well what you wanted as he thrusted harder and faster into you now. You moved his thumb from your clit and took over, trying to reach that high you desperately needed. “Cum for me babygirl,” He whispered, watching as you came undone under him. Your legs trembling as his thrusts became sloppier and his release followed soon after inside you.

Bradley stood up once he had caught his breath, offering you a hand to help you clean up. His cum running down your legs as you hurried behind him in the candle lit house. He ran a bath and climbed in, motioning for you to get in with him.

He kissed your back as he scrubbed you gently with the sponge. You loved the comfortable silence that had fallen between you both as he finished scrubbing you. Regret was starting to seep into your mind about leaving him, knowing the heart you broke was your own.

“I miss you Y/N, I know I can’t ask you to wait and you can’t ask me to stay but can we at least have this week?” He asked quietly, your heart aching at his request. “Of course,” you whispered back in response, knowing how hard it’d be at the end of the week to leave the warmest bed you’d ever known.

#top gun fandom #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

Text

call sign: tennessee whiskey | rooster x fem!reader & hangman x phoenix | chapter one

summary: phoenix has always wanted to set up her two best friends in the navy -- ones that have, for whatever reason, still never crossed paths. that's all about to change when you get called back to TOPGUN for a special mission.

warnings: enemies to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, swearing, mentions of death, strong possibility of military inaccuracies, second person pov, no use of y/n,

wc: 4.2k

a/n: not me having the audacity to take a crack at a top gun: maverick fic. this is what happens when i watch tgm 7x in one week. a fic is born. and in my defense, this cast has so much damn chemistry how could i not?! this is a oneshot idea that turned into a series that's turned into a series and a sequel? oops. 10/10 recommend listening to the song tennessee whiskey by chris stapleton.

masterlist | the playlist | chapter two

She’s shocked but she knows better than to be surprised.

At least that’s what Phoenix reminds herself as she watches the heated interaction between Rooster and Hangman at the pool table. It can’t have been more than five minutes since Rooster’s arrival for the two of them to get into it. And the way he looked at her just a moment ago? With his smug, annoyingly handsome, overconfident face right before taking another dig at Rooster?

She hates it.

And she hates that it made her feel something.

She can’t put her finger on it: disgust, unadulterated rage, whatever the hell else would make you want to kiss and kill someone at the same time.

She exchanges unamused glances with Rooster once again, shaking her head in the beyond cocky fighter pilot.

“Well, he sure hasn’t changed,” she scoffs, watching as Hangman makes his way back to the jukebox to select another song.

“Nope. Sure hasn’t,” Rooster agrees with dismay.

“Check it out. More badges,” Payback says, turning his attention to the way of the new arrivals. “That’s Harvard, Yale, Omaha… shit that’s Fritz.”

“What kind of mission is this?” Fanboy asks, taking note as the best of the best continue to arrive at the Hard Deck tonight.

As Phoenix asks the question everyone is wondering – who the hell the US Navy plans to teach the top 1% of fighter pilots – she notices Rooster’s disappeared from the conversation around the pool table. It doesn’t take long before someone’s cut the power to the jukebox causing a collective groan to ring out within the four walls of the Hard Deck.

A smile creeps across Phoenix’s face as she knows exactly where Rooster’s gone. The sound of a few riffs on the piano being played catch her attention, and she excuses herself from the pool table. She joins her good friend she met at flight school, in all of his Hawaiin shirt-clad glory.

“You missed me, Trace?” Rooster says, stealing a glance from the side of his old friend.

“Not even a little bit,” she teases him in return.

But Rooster understands.

What she means is ‘yes I have,’ and ‘you could’ve called.’

The commotion of Maverick being thrown out of the bar interrupts their brief reunion, and while Phoenix watches, Rooster occupies himself with the task at hand. His large aviators that cover his eyes make it easier to ignore the fact that the closest thing he’d ever had to a father figure had been called back to North Island too. His long fingers run over the keys of the barely-in-tune piano of the Hard Deck, unwilling to acknowledge the presence of the man. Instead, he charges forward, noticing how easy it is to slip into the familiar rhythm of being back at TOPGUN.

Outside of the bar, Jake’s having a little too much fun throwing the old aviator overboard with Payback and Coyote. As he heads back inside, he doesn’t join Payback and Fanboy at the piano with the rest of them, instead choosing to head to the bar for another round of beers. He leans back against the bar, watching as the whole bar seems wrapped in singing along to Rooster’s personal anthem. Hangman takes another swig of his beer amused by the sight.

He’s not sure why he’s so hesitant to join in on the fun but he doesn’t move – can’t let Rooster have this one. Hangman lets his gaze linger on Phoenix from a distance as she dances (in his opinion) a little too closely for his liking to Rooster.

He’ll never admit it, but he’s always been entranced by the woman he met at TOPGUN all those years ago at his graduation. She was a part of the incoming class, the one right behind his, and he’s not sure how, in the same damn khaki uniform as everyone else, she’s always looked this good.

Her eyes light up as someone or something across the room catches her attention, and she’s practically jumping up, sprinting across the Hard Deck and into the arms of another naval aviator.

And for the first time tonight, a genuine smile spreads across his lips.

He wondered when you’d show.

As soon as he got the call, you’d texted him immediately asking if he’d gotten the same request for this mysterious special op. Earlier, when he’d watched Harvard and Yale roll in with Halo, your WSO he knew your arrival was almost moments away. But you’d never been the most punctual when it came to your personal life, so he wasn’t surprised that you were running behind. Jake chuckles to himself thinking about all the trouble you used to get into at the academy for not being on time. Almost got you kicked out a few times too, if he recalls correctly.

It'd been too long since he’d seen you last, now that you were stationed at Lemoore. He loved teasing you about what a Californian you’d turned into, now that you’d been out of Texas.

“Gonna start callin’ you Phoenix if you spend any more time in California, kid,” he’d teased you during your last phone call, referencing the LA native you both admired.

But Jake’s almost forgotten about how close you are with Natasha – the three of you always circling around each other, never quite in the same place at the same time. He’s definitely forgotten (or at least tried to) the time you called him a lovesick idiot after he wouldn’t shut up about a certain fighter pilot he’d met during a certain deployment.

What could he say?

His first deployment with Phoenix had left… quite the impression on him… and you knew him well enough to call him out on it.

Of course, Phoenix had wanted nothing to do with him at the time. His usual tricks – that Southern Charm and perfectly symmetrical face – only seemed to repulse her even more and he had to admit that it made him like her even more.

“Whiskey!” she practically shouts, as Jake watches the two of you embrace.

“Sorry I’m late. I would’ve come earlier if I knew there was a singalong,” you smirk, taking in the sigh of the more than jovial crowd huddled around the piano. “But once I hit LA traffic. Shit. That’s what I get for leaving for wanting to take my own damn car.”

“Oh I think he’s just getting started,” she replies, nodding towards Rooster.

Before you can say anything else, before you can take a good look at the man behind the piano, Hangman’s cut your reunion-for-two short.

“Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” he croons, his Texas drawl prominent in the way he says each word.

“Hangman, you son of a bitch!” you squeal, meaning the last part in the most endearing way possible.

“Hey, kid,” he greets you with the biggest smile you’ve seen all day.

You immediately wrap your arms around his neck, jumping into his arms. Jake picks you up, spinning you around before setting you back down on the ground as you laugh. Your public display of affection earns a few looks your way, and Phoenix pretends to vomit on the floor in response.

You laugh again, “You think I’d get a free pass after putting up with this one for over ten years.”

“This… is something I’ll never understand,” Natasha replies, gesturing towards the space between the two of you.

“You jealous, Phoenix?” Hangman asks, a confidence behind his words.

Nat sends a snarky look his way before answering, dryly:

“Only in your dreams, Bagman.”

“You’re right about that,” he flirts shamelessly, giving her a wink.

“Oh gross!” you say with an eye roll. You playfully punch Jake in the chest, pushing him away from you and Natasha.

“Get your own friend. Besides, Nat and I have some catching up to do and I’m in need of a drink,” you continue, earning a groan from Jake.

“What? I can’t watch?” he smirks, earning another fake vomit from Phoenix.

“No, Bagman,” you tease, using the callsign you know Nat loves to demean him with. “We’re gonna talk shit about you.”

He shoots you a look, shaking his head at your snarky remark. He knows it’s out of love – at least from you. He concedes, tipping his beer towards you as a form of ‘cheers’ before taking a few steps away.

You and Nat exchange a laugh, before linking arms and heading towards the bar.

“I don’t know how you’ve put up with him for more than five minutes,” she remarks, searching for an available bartender.

“He’s not all that bad once you get past all the bullshit. And there’s a lot of it,” you reply honestly.

“No thanks,” Phoenix dismisses, before flagging down Penny.

You watch as she orders the two of you a round of beers and you can’t help but find it funny how quick she was to dismiss Jake. It’s true: you’ve always thought the two of them were more alike than they were different. Sure, Jake made questionable decisions on the daily. But even after all of these years, he still had more heart than anyone you’d met this side of the Mississippi.

“How was your trip?” you ask Phoenix, making small talk to start.

“It was alright. Came in a few days earlier to see some family in LA first,” she answers with a shrug.

“How’s your mom?” you ask, curiously.

And Phoenix answers, filling you in that her mom is doing much better than the last time you talked, and her brother and his wife are moving back to LA. You tell her that you’re finally getting used to California, while the two of you wonder about this top secret, special mission that you’ve all been called back to TOPGUN for.

“Oh! Speaking of the best of the best. Uh… my best friend is here,” she starts with a smile on her face.

“Excuse me. I thought… I was your best friend… at least in the Navy,” you tease her.

She rolls her eyes playfully, “No, I mean. Rooster. I’ve actually been wanting to introduce the two of you for years...”

Phoenix gestures towards the man behind the piano still going at it, and you move over to get a good look at him. He’s hot. You’ll give her that. And you’re not usually into the whole mustache thing but it somehow seems to make him even more attractive. His oversized aviators are hanging off his face as he pounds away at the keys of the piano and you can’t imagine what grown adult man would wear Hawaiin shirts by choice.

And yet, everything about him you’d normally find cringe-worthy in a man, he seems to pull off.

He knows it too.

There’s a group of girls gathered around the piano that are gossiping as they watch him riff on another instrumental song.

And boy is he eating it up: the attention, the praise, he knows he has the ears of everyone at the Hard Deck tonight.

“The piano player. From flight school?” you question, curiously, as you begin to connect the dots.

“Yeah!” she answers, her eyes lighting up at your immediate recognition. “Yeah that’s where we met. Reminds me of you, actually. Just the way we both clicked instantly… and you’ve both become life-long friends.”

You think back to your first deployment as a naval aviator. You and Phoenix were sent on a mission in Sarajevo and had become fast friends. At first, you wondered if you grew so close so quickly because you were the only women on that deployment, but you’d discovered over the years that your friendship with Nat was unique. While you’d usually expect a fast friendship to fizzle out, your relationship with Nat had only grown stronger over the years.

“Hm,” you sound in response, giving Rooster another lookover.

Nat’s other best friend.

Sure.

Nat’s hot other best friend.

“What’s with the porn ‘stache?” you ask, playfully.

She chuckles, “Long story for a different time.”

“C’mon! I’ll introduce you to everyone else,” Phoenix encourages you, grabbing your hand and practically dragging you over to the pool table with her.

“Gentleman,” she says cooly, greeting the uniform-clad men that surround the pool table.

“This is Whiskey,” she announces, introducing you. “Top of her class at TOPGUN and the only person on the planet that can get me to drink the worm at the bottom of a bottle of tequila.”

“Yo, I’ve heard about you,” Payback says, immediately recognizing your callsign.

“I could say the same about you, Payback,” you reply, and he’s surprised to see you already know his callsign. “Coyote, ‘s always a pleasure.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods to you.

“Wait. You two already know each other?” Payback asks, looking from you to Coyote.

“Texas,” you both answer at the same time, exchanging a smile.

“Us Texans gotta stick together. Especially at the top,” Coyote clarifies.

“I’m Fanboy. And this here is Harvard and Bob,” Fanboy says, finishing his introduction of at least the aviators engaged in the game at the time.

“It’s nice to meet you two,” you reply, looking from Fanboy to Harvard.

You notice that it seems like Rooster’s little performance has ended and the jukebox has been plugged back in. It doesn’t surprise you that Hangman’s slipped out, probably to cue up his own personal soundtrack for the night. Bob is busy lining up his pool cue, but you already know him from Lemoore. He and Fanboy continue their game, and you wonder where Halo snuck off to.

Bob shoots his shot, missing miserably with a sigh as the rest of the aviators cry out in supportive disappointment for him.

“Bob, ya really can’t do better than that, huh?” you hear the Southern drawl of Jake heading your way.

You and Phoenix exchange a look, knowing just how much Jake is going to enjoy picking on the little guy.

“Let me show you how it’s really done,” Jake smirks, snatching the pool cue out of Fanboy’s hands as he struts towards the pool table.

You decide that someone needs to humble him, and you know just how you’re going to do it.

“Easy there, Seresin,” you say, intercepting his gait. You stand your ground, right between him and the pool table, blocking his way.

Jake stops in his tracks, as you stand toe to toe with him, barely inches apart from each other in a battle of the egos. Coyote lets out a whistle and you can hear Phoenix and Bob snickering in the corner as they watch on.

“You see, I can’t let you do that because… it’s my turn, actually,” you challenge him, a rebellious look on your face. “So you’re just going to have to wait for yours.”

“Damn. You gonna let her talk to you like that, Hangman?” Coyote whistles, always amused by how willing you are to throw yourself in front of the moving bus that is Jake Seresin.

“Don’t let her fool you. Whiskey’s always been sweet on me. Ain't that right, kid?” he coos, his eyes never leaving yours.

“HA!” you hear Nat laugh loudly, as you raise your eyebrows up at Jake.

You don’t dare break eye contact. There’s no way in hell he’s winning this one.

He shoots you a look that says, ‘you really want to do this right now?’ and you shoot him a look that says, ‘you’re being a bully.’

“Bullshit. She’s got you by the balls, lieutenant,” Phoenix hollers.

“And he wouldn’t have it any other way,” you say, winking in her direction. You refocus your attention back on your best friend, pressing your lips together in a thin line “Besides, we all know that Hangman here has a soft spot for women who degrade him.”

You grab the pool cue out of his hand before bringing your opposite hand to tap him twice on the cheek, eliciting another round and whoops and hollers from the group of guys.

“Ain’t that right, Bagman?” you throw in, parroting his condescending phrase from earlier.

Jake shakes his head, knowing that you won this one as he watches you move around the pool table to set up your next shot. Bob watches on, impressed with the way you stood up to Hangman like that, especially in defense of himself.

“If nobody warned you, Bob, the ‘T’ in Texas stands for trouble,” Coyote remarks, nudging Bob as he settles in next to the WSO.

While you’re busy celebrating your win with Bob, Fanboy, and Phoenix, Rooster’s across the room, closing out his tab and grabbing his last beer of the night. He eyes you carefully. He’s never seen someone standup to Hangman like that, nor has he witnessed Hangman take it. He’s heard about you – remembered what Nat’s said over the years: that you were her other best friend, that you were one hell of a pilot, that he should stop making shitty decisions with women and just let her set the two of you up.

And after what he’s seen tonight? He’s intrigued.

You’re electric, and he’s impressed.

What he doesn’t remember is Nat ever mentioning that you knew Hangman – let alone this well. Were you and Hangman a thing? He can see a closeness between the two of you – a kind of intimacy he’s never seen Hangman have with anyone, despite the revolving door of women he seems to keep around whenever they’ve been deployed together. But it doesn’t make sense, because why the hell would Phoenix want to set him up with someone if she were Hangman’s girl?

Rooster makes his way over to the pool table after you and Hangman’s confrontation, his lips pressed to the top of the glass bottle.

Hangman’s hanging out on the edge of the group, flipping through something on his phone with his right hand and nursing a beer in his left.

He doesn’t want to sound too interested, but curiosity gets the best of him as he asks, “What was that all about?”

“What?” Jake shoots back, looking up from his smartphone.

“You and Whiskey…” Rooster says, trying not to sound too desperate for information.

But Hangman picks up on Rooster’s interest in his best friend immediately. He smirks, knowing that his relationship with you is just another thing he can use to get under Bradshaw’s skin.

“Spent a little time at the naval academy together, that’s all,” Hangman replies vaguely. When he’s met with silence, Jake knows that he’s got something here. He turns to his rival, scanning for a reaction on Rooster’s face.

“What? You interested?”

Instead of answering, Rooster just shakes his head, taking another swig of his beer. It doesn’t take long for Natasha to steal Rooster away so that she can introduce the two of you, her eyes glimmering with excitement and the gears turning in her head.

“Call it a rescue,” she mutters under breath as she drags him away from Hangman’s presence.

Much to Nat’s disappointment, the introduction isn’t much. Just an exchange of hellos, names and callsigns before Halo comes to find you for a catch up.

The rest of the night goes on, accompanied by Hangman’s pick of tunes, and it’s filled with old friends, catch ups, and a few more rounds of pool. It’s good to be back here. In a way it feels nostalgic, and anyone would be lying if they couldn’t admit that being selected to be a part of this mission was a huge boost for the ego. While it’s cool to have some Lemoore buddies with you, it’s good to see your old friends too – the ones you don’t get to see as often – like Jake. Like Phoenix. These are bonds forged in battle, and people you’d trust with your life.

It’s not till the end of the night that you realize that you may have had one too many, so you step out for some air. San Diego is perfect almost year round, you think, as you watch the waves crash against each other.

“You good? I saw you slip out,” you hear a voice say.

You’re surprised to find Rooster standing behind you, just outside of the entrance of the Hard Deck. You hadn’t gotten much time to meet him, despite Nat’s best efforts.

“Yeah, I just think I’ve had a little too much to drink. Wanted to get some air,” you reply with a small laugh. “Thanks though. For checking in.”

“Can’t have you gettin’ into any trouble. Nat would kill me,” he says, taking a few steps toward you.

This time, you fully turn towards him, resting your back against the railing, as he holds out a cup of water.

“Thought you might want a glass of water too.”

“You’re a good friend. At least that’s what Nat’s said about you,” you say with a smile, taking the glass of water he’s offered you.

“She said that?” he asks, only a little surprised.

You nod in response.

Rooster joins you, standing side by side, his back pressed against the railing, mirroring your body language.

There’s a long silence between the two of you as you drink your water. After a big night of friends old and new, it’s nice to have a moment of quiet too – the waves being the only sound between the two of you.

“So… you and Jake?” Rooster asks, interrupting your momentary shared silence.

“Oh!” you gasp, another laugh following.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the question that makes you feel a little warmer as you contemplate how to answer his question. Between your greeting upon arrival and your standoff at the pool table, you can imagine why Rooster would think that. You can’t blame him. The two of you get mistaken as a couple all the time, especially when you’re out and about in your civvies.

“No, there's-, there’s no me and Jake. I mean. We… met at the naval academy. He was two years ahead of me and kinda took me under his wing when he found out that I was a fellow Texan. We’ve been close friends ever since,” you clarify, trying your best to explain your uncommon friendship with Hangman.

Rooster scoffs, a blush running across his cheeks as he mutters an unconvinced yet conceding with, “Okay.”

“What? You don’t believe me,” you ask, turning your head to watch his reaction.

“No, it’s not that! I uh… I’ve just… never seen Hangman let anyone talk to him like that. I just… made some assumptions, I guess. Sorry,” he apologizes, almost embarrassed that he asked in the first place.

“No it’s okay,” you reassure him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder before crossing your arms over your chest. “In your defense, there was one kiss at school back in the day that ended promptly when I laughed him out of my dorm room.”

Rooster laughs, the idea of it completely contradictory to the playboy persona Hangman portrays to the world.

“Now that’s a story I want to hear,” he smirks.

You shake your head, “There’s not much to tell. I promise.”

“He always been this much of an ass?” Rooster asks, stealing another glance your way.

“Oh yeah. And he’s always been this fucking annoying too,” you add playfully.

He agrees and the two of you exchange glances again. You’re starting to see why Phoenix has raved about him all these years and you’ve barely had a real conversation with him.

“Then why do you put up with him?” Rooster asks again, this time a little more seriously. He’s not sure why, but he really wants to hear that you don’t have feelings for Jake.

“Because… there was a time we were both just dumb kids, y'know? Because he may be an annoying, self-centered, overconfident little shit... but he's my annoying, self-centered, overconfident little shit. And I’m stuck with him,” you admit, genuinely.

Your capacity for empathy leaves an impact on him. He’s going to be thinking about this conversation for a few days.

“Fair enough.”

“So what’s the story behind your callsign?” he asks, changing the subject.

You raise an eyebrow, “What’s the story behind yours?”

Instead of answering, he just shakes his head and you laugh, knowing he’s not going to tell you. You don’t answer either, taking another sip of the water he’s brought out for you.

“Hooooly shit,” Rooster marvels, watching as you pull of an extremely tricky maneuver in your two-seater F/A-18.

It’s you and Halo paired up with Harvard as your wingman for this round of the dogfight exercise. And while you may be impressive, you’re still no match for Maverick, as he gets you with a killshot just for trying to show off.

“You got to give it to her. That was smooth,” Fanboy admires as the rest of the aviators watch the exercise from inside the watchtower.

Jake chuckles in response. You’ve always been full of surprises and he’s always finds it amusing when someone new discovers it.

“Like Tennessee Whiskey, fellas,” he answers, his Texas drawl a love letter to your shared home state.

He shakes his head watching you fly before adding:

“Some things never change.”

read: chapter two

A/N: HI ITS ME. How're feeling up in this club and why is everyone so hot and have so much sexual tension? Anyways... should I continue this or nah??

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