#and probably for mav pulls too…

[mlady-magnolia]

Womp womp new pfp as I wait for my Paypal to connect to my fucking bank

Yeah commissions are coming but the system is being a bitch >:(

[compacflt]

What does Ice (or Mav) think about the Obama gay rumors? Will they be tuning in to hear the story of the man who allegedly fucked Obama? Are they bi Obama truthers? Is Rooster? Is Hangman? Any other Icebama interactions you're hiding from us? His cameo cracked me up and I need to know more...

the obama gay rumors

first im hearing about this

[tw1sters]

Put a Ring on It

Jake is an impatient man, even more so when it comes to you. When he sees you for the first time in months, his self-restraint is tested. Spoiler: he doesn't pass.

▸ PAIRING: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x F!Reader ▸ WARNINGS: NSFW 18+, pwp, semi-public, inappropriate use of naval academy class ring (fully inspired by inappropriate use of malfoy signet ring lol), fingering, dirty talk, lots of cursing ▸ WORD COUNT: 3.4K ▸ A/N: currently in my established relationship pwp era so here's another one. been thinking about that ring for a while now. please mind the warnings!

—

Fucking Hangman and his fucking fragile ego. And his fucking hand.

It’s true that the situation isn’t exactly ideal – you fly in to visit for the weekend, taking only a couple of days off from work to spend time with your boyfriend, who’s currently off on a special assignment at the San Diego base. You haven’t seen Jake in two months; with him constantly on the road and you buried in meetings with your current project, it’s virtually impossible to find the days to actually fly to see each other. 

To say he is deprived is a massive understatement.

When you arrive on base, he pulls you into a crushing kiss. Literally crushing. His arms, which have probably gotten even bigger since you last saw him, are wrapped around you as his lips capture yours. His moan reverberates throughout your entire body. You barely notice his squadmates jeering and booing around you. When he slips his tongue past your lips, as much as you enjoy it, you know it’s time to stop.

After all, you are on government property and they probably have the authority to hold you prisoner should you commit indecent exposure.

“Jake,” you breathe, pushing at his chest for him to release you. He continues peppering your face with kisses, and a laugh bubbles up your throat. “Okay, okay. I get it, you missed me.”

He hums, his hair coiffed back, ruffled in the wind. Your heart somersaults in your chest. Sometimes you forget to truly appreciate how attractive he is. Neatly trimmed dirty blonde hair, strong jawline, that stupidly gorgeous grin. Don’t get you started on his hands. You marveled over them enough the first time you met and he’s definitely shown you how talented he can be with them. 

“Been too long, sweetheart,” he whispers, nuzzling his face into your neck. You can feel his mouth begin to work on you again and, before you fall apart in front of his teammates, you gently nudge him away, pulling an annoyed grunt from his lips. “Killin’ me,” he mutters.

“Not in front of your team, Seresin.”

When Rooster calls your name, you perk up and shoot him a smile. “Are you coming to the barbecue tonight?” He asks. 

Jake groans. “Absolutely the fuck not. I need some quality time.”

“What barbecue?” You cock an eyebrow at the two of them.

“Hangman didn’t tell you? We have a beach barbecue at The Hard Deck later. Whole squad’s going to be there and obviously Penny and Mav are setting everything up. Took us a couple of weeks to get everyone together. Even Coyote’s girlfriend is coming.”

Well, now you have no choice. You look at Jake who’s already groaning, preemptively reacting to your response. You shoot him a look telling him to behave before turning back to Rooster with a tight smile. “Of course we’ll be there.” 

Rooster grins, “Awesome, I’ll catch you there. I need to drop off some of my stuff first.”

“Sweetheart, you’re killing me,” Jake says, a hand on his wounded heart. Ever the drama queen.

Rolling your eyes, you sigh, “We can’t not go, Jake. The crew’s going to be there, along with your bosses, might I add.”

“They’re just going to eat and get drunk.”

“Exactly what I want to do after the week I’ve had.”

Jake stands in front of you, hands grasping your waist as he pulls you close and ducks his head to kiss you again. “I know how to get you to relax, release all that pent-up tension.” 

Heat crawls up your neck as you feel the pulsing between your legs. Jake isn’t the only one who’s been particularly needy. You’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve had your hand down there. While you can still satisfy yourself, it isn’t the same as having Jake there with his veined hands, lickable abs, and filthy words. 

Phone sex is a common occurrence, but you’re only left wanting more. 

Before Jake can get you even more hot and bothered, you lick your lips and hold him at arm’s length. You make sure his grabby hands stay in yours, foiling his every attempt to grope you in public. There are officers around for god’s sake. “We’ll stay for an hour, say our hi’s, get some food and drinks, then we’ll head back to your place,” you try to reassure him. 

“You and your desire to please people will cock block me to hell, sweetheart,” Jake grunts. “You say an hour and I already know we’ll be staying there well past.” 

“No, it’ll just be an hour. I promise.”

Jake learns early on in your relationship that there are certain promises you do not keep. Although you are great at holding yourself accountable for things revolving around him, the chances of those promises coming true slim down to near zero when other people are involved. Too many times have you promised him you’ll only stay an hour – particularly at boring events that you drag him to (or he drags you to) – because you feel terrible if you don’t offer the host the time and appreciation they deserve for organizing. 

And you love Penny. That woman is impossible to adore. No one else can keep Mav on his toes like her. Thus, Jake certainly expects you to give her your utmost effort to be present.

Proving his point right, you and he are currently on hour number two. You try to ignore how restless Jake is getting. He’s rocking on the balls of his feet, grumbling under his breath, his hands beginning to wander again. The annoyed jitters radiating off him seem to amuse the others, especially as you’re striving to give whoever you’re speaking to your full undivided attention. 

So far, it has been Penny, Mav, Nat, Bob, and Javy. The current one on your list is Bradley, who’s going on and on about the training they did today. With at least three drinks in his system, nobody can get Bradley to shut up. 

You’re nodding along to the story, throwing in a few questions here and there to toss Bradley off the scent. The scent being Jake’s hand continuously sliding up your leg and under your skirt. You swat his hand away, yanking it off you every few minutes or so, but he is relentless. Thankfully, the two of you stand with your backs towards the ocean, and everyone else is in front of you. None of them the wiser to the shit Jake is pulling behind your back, literally.  

Jake’s large hand cups your asscheek and massages it slowly, pulling them apart until you can feel even your pussy lips parting. The light breeze that sneaks into your underwear has you freezing. Your subtle efforts to remove his hand are to no avail. Instead, knowing he overpowers your grip, he only gets bolder. 

His hand alternates between squeezing your ass and tracing the line of your panties. You bite back a shiver every time he does. You can feel wetness pooling between your legs, and how damp your underwear has probably gotten. At this point, you aren’t hearing a single word coming out of Bradley’s mouth anymore. Fortunately, you don’t think Bradley fully comprehends whatever he’s saying either. He’s stumbling slightly on the sand, close to toppling over each time. 

Jake doesn’t even try to help and you can’t bring yourself to either, not when Jake is tempting you so deliciously. 

When Jake carefully runs a finger over your slit over your damp panties, you feel your brain fogging up. Bradley’s words are beginning to blur together, and so is his face. Jake smirks proudly, sensing how distracted you are even as his squadmate drones on. 

Fucking asshole. 

His index finger slips underneath the fabric, tugging it slightly to the side as he runs it over your bare pussy. You can feel him collect your juice slowly and use it to drag his fingers along your lips. Struggling to swallow a moan, you let your eyes slip shut only momentarily, hoping that Bradley doesn’t catch on. However, when Jake dips not one, but two fingers into you, a squeak escapes your lips before you can catch it. 

Your cheeks immediately flame with the sound. While Bradley is drunk, he isn’t completely inebriated. 

He stops halfway through his sentence as he frowns. You can’t bring yourself to say a single thing, your face tight and body tense. Meanwhile, you don’t even need to look over at Jake to see how pleased he looks with himself. Bradley’s eyes dart between the two of you, the realization slowly sinks in as he begins to trip backwards. The panic sets quickly on his face.

“Oh no. No, no. I’m not going to be around for this. There are things I wish I did not know and this is one of them. You guys are nasty,” he manages to get out before he is rushing away towards Nat. He wraps an arm around her and you can hear him ask her to protect him from potentially scarring his eyeballs. 

This team is built on drama queens. 

Jake’s hand disappears from your body only to wrap around your hand as he drags you inside. He ignores your protests as he whisks you past Penny and Mav, one of which is looking at you knowingly and the latter who raises a confused brow. 

Your boyfriend leads you, fighting to keep up with his long legs, towards the back area, into a hallway hidden from the crowd outside. He wastes no time before he’s pressing you up against the wall and dropping his head to capture your lips. A moan involuntarily rises from your throat now that no one is around. 

Your hands slide up his toned arms and wrap around his neck as you pull him in deeper, relishing in the feel of his fit form against your soft body. Jake is all sharp lines and hard edges, a figure he maintains very proudly. You can taste the beer on his tongue as you breathe in a scent that’s so undeniably him.  

Even kissing him is doing wonders in getting you one step closer to satisfying your wanton need. Your mind doesn’t think twice as you let your hands explore the body that you’ve missed for so long. Your nails drag along his neck, down his chest, unbuttoning his beige uniform along the way. 

“Let me hear you, sweetheart,” Jake grunts as he hikes your skirt up around your hips. He hisses when he sees the wet spot on your panties. “Fuck, look at you. You’re so wet, darlin’. You miss me? Miss my hands on you?”

You bite back a whimper when Jake presses a thumb against the spot, rubbing the lace deeper into your pussy to collect more moisture. “Jake, please, you’ve been teasing all night,” you groan. 

“Yeah? Where do you want me?” 

“Want your fingers inside, please,” you whine, fingers digging into his forearm as he uses his knee to separate your legs. With his thigh against your core, you’re likely beginning to soak his pants, especially when he nudges against you. 

“Ask nicely,” Jake whispers in your ear, chuckling when you growl at him. 

“Seresin, you better move it along or I might find someone else who’ll do the work,” you bite back. When you attempt to pull away, Jake moves faster. One hand swoops and fastens up both your arms above your head, his hips pin you against the hard surface, and the other cups your cheek. A strangely intimate gesture despite the mess he’s put you in. “Fuck you,” you snap at him.

“Oh, you’d like that,” he teases, eyes twinkling devilishly. “You look so pretty when you can’t go anywhere. Trapped with me.”

You hate, but secretly enjoy, that that does the trick for you. Your cunt tightens involuntarily. This is your form of foreplay. The mocking, the banter. You love that he can overpower you, love how easily he cages you in. 

“God, I missed you,” Jake leans in and kisses you again, just enough to leave you wanting more. When he backs away slightly, you find yourself chasing after him. The taste of him and the warmth of him. “Missed this pretty pussy even more.”

“Then put your hands on me,” you say through gritted teeth. 

“Your wish is my command.” He looks down at you, blue-green eyes almost iridescent as they observe you with rapt attention. The back of his hand skims your jaw, fingers brushing against your lips. His eyes darken into shadows when, as he grazes his ring down your throat, your breath hitches. The metal is cool against your heated skin, a brief reprieve in the slow torture he puts you through. His hand journeys further down along your cleavage, visible above the neckline of your dress. From his height, he has a front row seat to the curves of your tits. “Fucking stunning,” he mutters to himself. 

Your skirt is still pooled around your hips, the hem swiping the back of your legs. His hand continues its path south until he’s touching you again, fingertips delicate above the fabric. 

“And these panties,” Jake huffs, “my favorite.”

You knew what you were doing when you got freshened up earlier. The underwear was an easy pick - a little red number with delicate floral lace trimming. The back barely covers your ass cheeks, giving him easy access to his actions throughout the night. 

The friction of the lace against your sensitive pussy has you squirming, his fingers urging the flimsy fabric against your skin. Your head falls back with a thud against the wood. His touch is insistent as he encourages the pulsing squeezing your insides. 

Jake flits his fingers around the fabric, shoving it to the side like he did earlier. Instead of putting them inside you, he continues to tease your lips. Every time he touches you just a little firmer, a little deeper, you press your thighs together. His US Naval Academy class ring imprints against your thigh. 

There’s something about the feeling of it. A consistent reminder that it’s there. A reminder of his role in the Navy. There’s something about that power that has your stomach flipping. He’s not only competent in taking care of you, but they put this man in an aircraft to keep this country safe. 

A large part of you loves that. You adore how protected it makes you. But also how small it makes you feel. 

As your thoughts spiral around the implications of his little piece of jewelry, he is slipping a finger past your folds. Your juices are coating the digits, making it easier and easier to push into you. He alternates between sinking deep inside of you, scraping your walls with determination, and stroking the outsides lightly, a gentle tease that has you fidgeting for more. You’re tempted to descend on his fingers, using him to fuck yourself, but Jake doesn’t allow that to happen. 

He brings his hand slightly higher. When the ring’s engravings touch your clit, you inadvertently jolt. Damn you and your traitorous body. Ever the perceptive one, Jake’s eyes light up in understanding. As if he needs more ammo to use against you. 

“Oh, do you like that, sweetheart?” He beams, bright eyes sparkling in delight. “You like my ring on you?”

Another fuck you sits on the tip of your tongue, but it never comes out when he purposely presses the ruby against your clit. You jerk again in his touch, but he doesn’t slacken his touch. Every time you try to twist away from him, his grip tightens, bruising around your wrists as he rubs the cool stone against you. 

“You’re so filthy,” he says in your ear, teeth nipping your lobe. Your teeth clamp your tongue to prevent a moan from coming out. You refuse to give him the satisfaction. “Look at you squirming with my ring on you. So fucking naughty.”

Your breath leaves your lungs as you wrestle to control the electricity coursing through your veins. Every single fibre of your being comes alive, flares skyrocketing into the night as he thumbs your sensitive nub while his fingers continue exploring your insides. His fingers coil inside you in that delicious way that has your toes curling. “Jake, please,” you plead, “that feels so good, don’t stop.”

He pumps his fingers in and out of you slowly, going deeper each time. He goes knuckle-deep and you feel his ring buried inside you. The ridges are exquisite against your skin and the ring’s stone only adds to the width of his fingers. It fills you up fully. 

Tears prick your eyes at how wonderful everything feels. All of his movements – his large hand wrapped around your wrists, his fingers caressing your insides, the press of his ring impressing upon your skin – culminate in this tantalizing symphony of desire. Every single stroke is another melody in this performance, the tunes coming together in a beautiful composition. 

Your body is at the mercy of his hands as he continues his ministrations. He fingers you faster until you’re barely able to hold yourself up. Releasing your hands, he instead uses his free hand to grasp your jaw again, tilting your head so he can kiss you. He pushes his tongue through your lips and bends around yours. He tastes you until your knees nearly cave. 

“Jake, I can’t–” you gasp, “I can’t take it anymore. Please let me come.”

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous, sweetheart. Look at you so needy in my hands. I’m the only one who can make you feel this way.”

“Yes, fuck, only you,” you echo desperately, your hands now clinging to his shoulders to hold yourself up. You’re so close to your orgasm, the feeling climbing and chasing you through this maze of hunger. 

Jake’s chest rumbles with laughter. “Not what you were saying earlier, when you were threatening to go to someone else. Do you really think anyone else can make you feel the way I do? Do you think anyone else knows your body like I do?”

“N-no,” you stutter weakly. “Only you, Jake.” Another expletive leaves your mouth as he presses against that particularly effective spot. “Christ, if you don’t finish me right now–”

He clicks his tongue. “So impatient,” he murmurs, nipping your lip. But he does what you ask. His fingers move more intentionally as his other hand moves from the back of your neck to your front, forcing off the tiny straps of your dress until your upper half is exposed. 

As he torments your cunt, his other hand grabs your breast over your bra. The matching piece of lingerie is thin so you can feel his every squeeze, every pinch of your nipple. You’re writhing in his hands and there is nothing you can do to stop it. Your fingers bury in his shoulders as you whine, pussy clenching around his fingers. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. Just like that. Come for me,” he coaxes, his voice so gentle against the filthy squelching of your cunt. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

With a few more pumps and a brush of his thumb against your nipple, you fall apart in his hands. The climax wracks through your entire body like an earthquake, your entire being trembling with the pleasure that surges through you. Your pussy tightens around his fingers that are prolonging your orgasm. 

His fingers are a wet, sloppy mess and you look absolutely ruined. Your dress is barely clinging to you and your mind is still a haze of pure, unbridled lust. Jake, on the other hand, is smiling wide at you. Cocky prick. 

“Good?”

You huff, leaning against the wall as a last resort. “Good.”

When your eyes fall between his legs, you see the erection tenting his pants. Your mouth practically salivates at the sight, enticed. Your body signals that you’re ready for round two and Jake is in no state to be showing his face in front of his friends again. 

“Can’t wait to have your mouth on me tonight,” Jake grins.

You roll your eyes. The last thing you need is to feed his ego. You’ll never give him that sense of gratification. “In your fucking dreams, Seresin. After the stunt you pulled, you’re lucky if I don’t completely blue ball you tonight.” Slipping back into your dress, you push him off you, flicking your hair over your shoulder. 

His face falls as you walk away. “Wait, you’re kidding, right? Sweetheart, you wouldn’t do that to me!”

[goldfades]

Heyy girlie I’m literally in love with your Luka content and I think you write the crash out couple relationship beautifully! So do you think we can have something semi long or longer maybe, whatever you wanna do! About maybe how people were calling Luka overweight how they’d both react to it and then something about Luka first game against the mavs as a laker?

Thank you! I love you writing.💕

BIG BOY ───── LUKA DONCIC

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | -> Luka overweight how they’d both react to it

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | nothing but some self doubt, but it's very fluffy<3

You first heard it on the broadcast, but you didn’t think much of it.

Some offhand comment from an analyst, something about Luka’s “conditioning” and how he was “carrying extra weight.” It wasn’t the first time you’d heard it, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. You barely blinked, barely let it register—because, frankly, you didn’t care.

But then, it spread.

Clips from the broadcast turned into Twitter threads, which turned into entire segments on sports talk shows, where they dissected Luka’s physique like it was up for debate. They threw around words like soft and out of shape as if he wasn’t averaging near a triple-double every night, as if he wasn’t dropping thirty on people’s heads like it was nothing.

And Luka? Luka acted like it didn’t bother him.

Which is why you knew it did.

He played it off with the same easy confidence he always had, smirking through postgame interviews, saying things like, “I don’t care what they say, I know how I play.” And sure, he probably meant it. But there was something different. You saw it in the way he stared at his phone a little longer after games, in the way he lingered in front of the mirror, in how he skipped dessert one too many times for it to be a coincidence.

So, one night, while he was sprawled on the couch, scrolling through his phone, you climbed onto his lap and snatched it out of his hands.

Luka groaned, already knowing where this was going. “Babe—”

“You better not be looking at that dumbass discourse.”

“I’m not.”

You raised an eyebrow.

He sighed, tilting his head back against the couch, running a hand through his hair. “Okay. Maybe a little.”

You huffed, placing his phone on the coffee table before turning back to him. He was looking at you now, that guarded expression he got when he didn’t want to talk about something but knew you weren’t going to let it go.

“You know you’re not built like some twig, right?” you said, voice softer now. “And that’s a good thing. There’s more to love.” You smirked, running a hand over his chest, then down to his stomach, where you gave a light squeeze. “My big boy.”

Luka groaned again, but this time it was different—more exasperated, more affectionate. He grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers through yours, shaking his head with a small smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re fine as hell.”

That got a laugh out of him, low and warm. He pulled you closer, arms wrapping around your waist, resting his forehead against yours.

“You don’t care at all?” he murmured.

You kissed him, slow and deliberate, letting it linger before pulling back just enough to look him in the eye.

“Not one bit.”

Luka hummed at your words, something thoughtful behind his eyes even as he smirked. His fingers pressed into your waist, kneading absentmindedly, as if he was committing every inch of you to memory.

"Not one bit, huh?"

You shook your head, resting your hands on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your palms. "Not one bit."

Luka sighed, dramatic now, tilting his head back against the couch. "So you're saying you don’t think I should be shredded? All abs, no stomach?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Absolutely not. If I wanted to date a protein-powdered gym bro, I would have." You squeezed his side again, grinning. "You're perfect, exactly how you are."

Luka groaned, but you could feel the way his body relaxed under your touch, the tension he'd been carrying for days starting to ease. "You sound too convincing."

"Because I am convincing," you said, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "And also because it's true."

His arms tightened around you, pulling you flush against him. "Mmm, maybe I should start listening to you instead of Twitter."

"Now that would be a genius idea." You flicked his ear playfully. "What, you think NBA Twitter is a better authority on your body than me? Your very devoted and very hands-on fiancée?"

Luka snorted. "Oh, so now you're an expert?"

You gave him a deadpan look. "I literally have my hands on you right now."

"Fair point," he muttered, grinning.

You leaned in, your voice quieter now. "It bothers you more than you're letting on, huh?"

Luka exhaled through his nose, his grip on you shifting slightly. "I mean… I try not to care. I know I’m playing well. I know I’m not—” He hesitated, shaking his head. "I know I'm not out of shape like they say. But I see it all the time. I hear it. It gets in my head sometimes."

Your expression softened, and you reached up to smooth a hand over his hair. "Luka, people are gonna talk no matter what. If you were shredded, they'd say you lost too much weight. If you were heavier, they'd call you lazy. It’s never about your game—it’s just noise. And you don’t owe anyone an explanation about how you look."

He was quiet for a moment, his blue eyes searching yours like he was trying to absorb everything you were saying.

"Besides," you added, shifting your weight slightly on his lap. "I like you exactly like this. You’re strong. You’re solid. You’re you."

Luka tilted his head. "So if I ever did get super ripped, you wouldn’t like me anymore?"

You rolled your eyes. "I'd love you no matter what. But if you ever get so shredded that I can't use you as a personal pillow anymore? We might have problems."

Luka laughed, deep and real, and you felt the last of his tension melt away. He kissed your shoulder, his nose brushing against your collarbone. "Guess I should keep a little something, then."

"Exactly," you said, looping your arms around his neck. "For my sake."

"For your sake," he echoed, amusement flickering in his eyes. Then, after a beat: "You really don’t care at all?"

You cupped his face in your hands, looking him straight in the eye. "Luka. I love you. All of you. Every inch." Your thumb traced over his cheekbone, your voice firm. "And I promise you, there is nothing wrong with you."

Luka swallowed, his jaw tightening slightly like he was holding something back. Then, slowly, he exhaled, nodding.

"Okay."

You arched a brow. "Okay?"

He smiled, small but genuine. "Okay."

Satisfied, you kissed him—slow, deep, lingering.

And that? That said more than words ever could.

[pagesfromthevoid]

Spirit Week | b.b. | 4

Bradley Bradshaw x librarian!reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: I got to put my surf knowledge to use here. Also went surfing before I posted this. Love when art reflects real life. This is her board!

Masterlist | Talk to Me! | Coffee?

She wakes up, bright and early, the next morning to two very distinct scents:

Fresh coffee and surfboard wax.

The coffee is the first and most immediate smell, and it’s what draws her out of bed. Reminds her that last night was, in fact, real and that Bradley is in her kitchen, starting his day like he lives there. Like he intends to stay there.

Except he’s not in her kitchen when she walks out, clad still in his shirt and now a pair of sleep shorts she’s pulled on. There is coffee in the pot, and it’s still steaming, so he’s there but as she pokes her head into the living room then checks the bathroom –he’s nowhere to be found.

Until she smells the very familiar scent of Sex Wax, and notices her garage door is open. Brow raised, she pushes it open further and leans against the doorframe. It’s such a strange sight before her; one that she hasn’t seen in so many years. One that, really, used to be common when she was a kid but she never imagined she’d see again.

It makes her heart ache in the best ways.

Bradley is sitting on his knees, longboard in his lap, and he’s reapplying wax to her board. There’s a pile of scraped off wax next to him, and he’s gone through at least one bar already redoing her favorite surfboard.

It’s the same board she had in high school, having never had a desire to replace it for sentimental reasons. Her dad had picked it out for her; a NSP Surf Betty that was too tall for her at one point but is the perfect size now –the girliest board imaginable, with its bright pink and purple flowers, but still her favorite. She’s rode several different shapes, sizes, and brands but she never could get over how well her silly Surf Betty fit her needs.

Seeing Bradley fixing it up for her –removing wax that’s probably a decade old itself –makes her smile fondly.

“Is this part of our date today?” She asks, pushing off the doorframe and sitting down in front of him finally.

He looks up and turns a bit pink in the ears, but nods some with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Mav called –invited us for a beach day for team bonding. I thought we’d bring your board so you didn’t have to sit and watch us play football.”

“So no date, huh?” She teases, but she doesn’t really mind. Not after last night.

“That’s not what I said,” he counters, and the way he’s working the wax onto her board is distracting as his arm flexes from the movement. It’s deliberate, and careful, and she has the sudden urge to kiss him again. But he’s speaking again. “And I told him I had to check with you first anyway. I figured we’d grab breakfast –a good one, at Denny’s just like you love for surfing –then head to the beach. Get you in the water again, take you out to lunch. Then we go to your school bonfire thing.”

There’s a moment where she’s just silent, staring up at him. Of all the things to remember, going to Denny’s most certainly wasn’t something she’d expect him to recall. Her dad used to take her right before every early morning session, and after every contest. It was just their thing, and she loved it. It bled into her sessions with her friends –with Bradley –soon after she started driving.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he’s saying suddenly, setting the board to the side and pulling her into his arms. It’s then that she realizes she’s misty eyed, and on the verge of crying. Now she’s letting out a watery laugh as he wraps his arms around her gently. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, god, nothing,” she promises, wiping her eyes. “I was just…I was thinking about how nice it is that you remember something so stupid like going to Denny’s before going surfing. And how sweet it is that you’re fixing up my board for me.”

“Oh,” he sighs in relief, pressing his lips to her shoulder. Her hand finds the back of his head where she runs her fingers through his hair as she rests her head against his. “I thought I fucked up our first date already.”

“Opposite,” she promises as he looks up at her through his lashes. Then she kisses his temple lightly before pulling away. “Let me get dressed, and we’ll swing by your place to get your stuff.”

“Hey.” And he’s pulling her back, draping her arms around his neck and holding her waist gently. “I meant it last night. I’ve always loved you. Remembering you like to go to Denny’s is the least I can do to prove it.”

“I don’t think you need to prove it,” she reassures, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. Just as he’s about to return it though, she’s pulling back and standing. “C’mon lieutenant.”

Penny greets them as they walk down to the beach, eyeing both her surfboard and Bradley with a knowing grin on her face. Maverick does the same, but stops them before they reach the squad.

“Now that’s a board I haven’t seen in years,” he jokes, motioning to see it. She hands it over with a soft smile, and he looks it over fondly. “I remember when you got this thing. It was three feet too tall and you couldn’t even carry it.”

Taking it back, she shrugs with a small laugh. “Hard to get rid of something that works perfectly, even twenty years later.”

“Can’t argue with that,” he grins knowingly, looking at Bradley who just rolls his eyes. “Sorry for stealing him. It’s a tradition though.”

“No big deal,” she promises. “Gives me an excuse to get in the water for a bit.”

Maverick nods with another chuckle but returns to Penny’s side as Bradley and her join the others finally. Everyone is already shirtless, and the counselor is laying on the beach with a hat over her face. She can’t help but snicker at the idea that her friend took today off to be in bed all day —and now she’s sitting on the beach against her will at seven in the morning.

“So much for being in bed, huh?” She teases, setting down her board beside her friend.

“Fuck off,” the counselor groans, peeking up from under her hat.

“Hungover or horny?”

“Yes.”

“Double whammy,” she laughs as she takes out her sunscreen then slips off her shirt.

Her eyes drift to the group of aviators, who are all laughing and talking, picking out their teams. She can’t help watching Bradley as she works the sunscreen into her skin. Absolutely unfair how perfect he looks without a shirt on. Like very truly —all hard lines and angles, freckled and healed over scars, tanned and somehow already sweaty.

Their eyes meet, and he grins at her with a little wave. She returns the gesture and immediately sits on her board in the sand, working her legs now.

“They’re all disgustingly hot,” her friend comments suddenly, having sat up now. “It’s not even fair, honestly.”

“It really isn’t,” she agrees with a sigh. But she’s still staring at Bradley as their game starts. “How long did it take you to stop just staring at Jake?”

“Yeah, you don’t,” the counselor admits, and her eyes are on her pilot. “We’ve been dating nearly a year and I can’t stop staring at him. And he knows. Fucking attention seeker.” But the counselor turns and faces her now, giving her full attention to the librarian. “But we know that. Tell me about last night. You left. Penny said she had to stop you guys from ruining the parking lot.”

“Oh my god,” she groans, covering her face. “That’s not —okay, that’s kind of what happened. But not really! His truck doesn’t even have a cover on it!”

“Ooh,” her friend teases. “I didn’t think you were an exhibitionist.”

“Jesus, I’m not.”

“That’s good, I was worried I was losing my touch as a psychology major,” she laughs, throwing her head back. “What did happen, then?”

Recounting the story, she thinks she’s supposed to feel embarrassed. But there’s no embarrassment; just a giddy feeling in her chest and belly when she talks about how soft he was. How kind he was. How much love there is already, even after this time. She admits to ruining the moment, sitting half naked in her bed and suddenly telling him she’s always loved him. And the counselor is just staring, enraptured by the whole story.

She’s waiting for her friend to comment, to pick apart telling him she loved him still. But the counselor just smiles at her softly, sitting up.

“I’m glad you found him again,” she says, then she’s looking over at the group playing. “I hated Max anyway. He was a dick with so many red flags.”

“Oh, I know,” the librarian sighs, but then she’s standing up and picking up her board. “You made it so very clear every time you talked to him.”

“You’re distracted, Rooster,” Phoenix complains as Hangman makes another touchdown.

She’s right, of course. Bradley is distracted. His best friend —girlfriend? He’s going to go with girlfriend, fuck it —is right there, in the water. Skin slick with salt water and the sun reflecting off her like she’s a goddamn siren or something. Every time she sits up past the break, Bradley can’t help himself as he pauses to watch her. Doesn’t matter that she’s just sitting there, bobbing over the waves.

It’s just…surreal. How many times did he sit on the beach and watch her, just like this? Staring, waiting for her to look at him so he could do this exact same thing?

Only now, she’s his. He doesn’t have to look away and blush, or feel like a creep. He can stare freely, because she’s his and he doesn’t even care that he’s pissing off his teammates.

“Aw c’mon, Phoenix,” Hangman interrupts, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Man’s in love. Can’t blame him for watchin’ his girl.”

“Yeah, so are you though and you’re not staring at your girlfriend,” Fanboy points out, laughing now.

“My girlfriend is much meaner when I don’t win,” Hangman counters, though he’s looking over at his girl, who is flicking him off from under her umbrella. “I can’t afford to be distracted.”

Bradley rolls his eyes, but he’s distracted again as he watches her paddle into a wave. Then he’s standing there, arms crossed over his chest as she pushes up on the board and drops into the wave like it’s the most natural thing in the world for her to do. He’s just so enamored by her movements —the swing of her hips to pull the board up to the lip of the wave then snapping them back down to keep going, the way she’s able to step forward quickly to keep the momentum going. It’s nothing short of graceful.

“She’s always been a natural,” Maverick suddenly says. Bradley isn’t sure how long he’s been standing there.

“Yeah.” There’s a pause then he turns to Maverick. “How soon is too soon to marry someone?”

Maverick lets out a bark of laughter, putting a hand on his shoulder. Bradley looks at him with a shit eating grin but he’s serious. And he’s waiting for an answer as Maverick finally stops laughing.

“Rooster,” he says, and for a moment, Maverick isn’t looking at him. It’s like he’s looking past him. “Your dad asked me the exact same question when he met your mom.”

Bradley suddenly knows why Maverick isn’t looking at him. It’s because he’s looking at Goose —at his father. Lost in the past; almost too painful for Bradley to ever understand. And there’s an overwhelming feeling in his chest as Maverick finally comes back to the present. There’s a softer smile on his godfather’s face; it’s sad. Like there’s still guilt that is just simmering below the surface.

“And what’d you tell him?” Bradley asks, voice soft. Almost trembling.

“When you know, you know. There’s no such thing as too soon.”

———

Taglist: @bowchickawowowww

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Oh No, There's An Arm Around My Waist

Bradley Bradshaw x fem!reader  2k words

summary: You wake up in the same bed as Bradley Bradshaw. That's it. Or is it?

tagging a few people who said they'd like a part two... it took me a while but whatever, right? @roostergooster @pono-pura-vida @chassy21 @startrekfangirl2233-fic-recs

sequel to “Oh No, There's Only One Bed”, can be read seperately tho

top gun masterlist

The light that filtered through the windows was golden, almost, warm and comfortable and you were cozy and sleepy and smiling, giving yourself all the time in the world to wake up. You blinked your eyes open slowly and tugged the covers all the way up to your chin and shimmied a little further down into the warmth of the bed and for just a few seconds, enjoyed the feeling of being pulled closer.

Then you ripped open your eyes again and froze to the very tips of your toes.

You were being pulled closer.

There was an arm around your waist, a body behind yours, breath on your neck. And with a start, the events of last night came rushing back to you.

The booked out hotel. The one bedroom. The one bed. Bradley. Bradley's words, Bradley's touches, Bradley's goddamn pajama-briefs. That you hadn't been able to fall asleep. The way he'd hugged you close. How you'd almost confessed your feelings to him.

Those fucking feelings. Those feelings you'd kept buried inside of you for so long, so goddamn long that you had never even thought to tell another living, breathing human being. Not your family, not your squad, nobody because hell, Bradley was a friend, he was your friend, and nothing more than that.

But now here you were, wrapped up tightly in his arms in the same bed. And he was only moving closer. Pushing closer to you, pulling you closer to him, burying his face in your hair and splaying his hand out on your stomach.

So maybe - just maybe - there was a teensy tinsy part of your friendship that was more than a friendship. Had perhaps always been more than a friendship. Longing glances you'd always put off as looking out for each other. Kisses on the cheek. Kisses on the forehead. Kisses on your hair. His arm around your waist, around your shoulders. Things you'd played off as him just being generally affectionate. But maybe that hadn't been it. Maybe that wasn't it. Maybe those moments when you'd almost kissed, maybe they'd been real, not just figments of your imagination - like after deadly missions, stumbling into each others arms, or slow dancing the night of Mav's wedding, or that one time in the jacuzzi.

You didn't know just how long you were lying there, on your side, trying to steady your breathing and keep as calm and as quiet as possible, not moving an inch. You didn't want to know. Your thoughts were running in circles, pondering the same questions again and again and each time arriving at different conclusions. A part of you was screaming to do something. Anything. But that probably would've been mental suicide. So you kept still and hoped, begged, prayed to all gods you could think of that this wasn't some dream and that your imagination was not off pranking you right now.

Finally - it had to have been at least half an hour - Bradley shifted behind you. He groaned, pushed away from you just the tiniest bit, pulled his arm from around you and brought his hand up to shield him from the sun.

"Good morning", he muttered, all deep, raspy morning voice, instantly sending a shiver down your spine. You didn't trust yourself to turn around just then - maybe he wasn't pressed into your back anymore but that didn't mean that he wasn't still way too close.

"How'd you know I'm awake?", you asked instead, already missing his warmth (even though the room certainly wasn't cold).

"I've got a sixth sense when it comes to you", he chuckled. He'd turned onto his side again and was talking to you, directly (indirectly? to the back of your head?) now, and you'd known him long enough that you were well aware of it. And well aware of the fact that he'd stare at you until you turned around to him no matter how long it took. He was stubborn like that. So you did turn, even closer to him now, folding your hands between cheek and pillow and biting your lip to ground you just the slightest. To remind you that this was still reality. That all of this was happening to you right now.

That Bradley was, in fact, lying on his pillow next to you, with adorable bed hair and a cheeky smile and a bare torso and way too few inches in between you. You could feel yourself tense up again.

"Like you knew tonight that I wasn't falling asleep?", you asked, a bit breathless.

Bradley nodded.

"Exactly like that."

"Well, thank you then." You couldn't help but smile at him a little. "I slept like a baby."

He laughed at that and for a second you closed your eyes and just soaked up the sound. You could very well imagine always waking up next to him like that. With his laughter fanning against your cheek, his fingers softly running up your arm almost as though he thought that if he did it slowly enough, you wouldn't find anything strange about it.

You didn't.

It wasn't strange, per se. It was new and electrifying and encouraging you in your (childish? foolish?) belief that maybe, yes, maybe you were more than a friend to him as well. Maybe he was testing the waters. Maybe he was going further already. Touching you like that, it was... bold. Wasn't it?

Maybe you had to be a little bolder as well. Just the way you'd wanted to tonight.

So you pulled a hand from underneath your cheek and, tentatively, very deliberately, brushed through his curls, all the while heavily avoiding looking him in the eyes. You could feel the way he was staring at you, burning holes into your skin, but you just pushed through and ignored him as best as you could. You were already feeling too close to passing out.

When you pulled your hand back, his fingers had reached your shoulder, dancing along the spaghetti straps of your nightdress, and you took a deep breath in before you allowed yourself to meet his eyes after all.

"Sorry", you whispered, getting a little more nervous now. "You had a bedhead."

Bradley made a sound in the back of his throat that you couldn't quite identify as any particular emotion.

"No apologising", he muttered, his eyes falling down to his fingers on your skin as he sneaked his way up over the covers and brushed his thumb along your throat, your chin, your jaw. "Just do it again."

You swallowed hard. But who were you to deny him? So despite your racing heart and despite your screaming mind, you reached out and tangled your fingers in his curls again. You were sure now he was on the same wavelength as you. Right? He had to be. This wasn't platonic behaviour. This was nowhere close to platonic. Was it? And if not... What were you supposed to do with that information? What did it mean? Had Bradley liked you, too, for just as long? For longer? How much time, how much relationship had you missed out on because you'd been too afraid to act on your feelings? How would you go from here? You couldn't... You wouldn't... Would you?

"You need to stop thinking so much", Bradley said softly, pulling you gently from your thoughts back to reality - of his thumb smoothing over your skin, of your fingers in his hair, of his breath on your cheek and the warmth of his body. "It's alright just to act once a while."

You had to smile a bit because he'd learnt that from Mav, but you didn't feel the need to remind him. Maybe he was right. Your overthinking had rarely ever helped you. But, well, it was quite hard to get rid of an old habit, wasn't it? And were you brave enough to leave it behind just this once?

With that smile of his... Maybe.

"Okay", you said. "If you say so. Then kiss me."

Bradley's eyes widened for just a millisecond before his lips twitched into a grin and he leaned forward - leaned in, closer to you, and your breath caught in your throat and your hand stilled in his hair and his thumb on your jaw settled to keep you in place. And then his lips met yours and the entire world came to a halt.

This was perfect. He was perfect. He'd always been, but his kisses... Oh god, his kisses. What had you been missing out on? You could've had this forever. He was working magic on you, you were sure, because no one should be allowed to kiss this good, to make you feel this weak in your knees even though you were lying down, to make you tense up and relax at the same time. It was truly like time had stopped, for just a few minutes - neither of you dared to move, too engrossed in the moment, too enamoured with each other.

It turned into slow-motion at some point. You didn't know just when. It melted into golden honey, thick and heavy and heady. You could really feel yourself heat up now, feel the warmth of him seeping into you, of your own cheeks flaring red. You could feel every particle of your body react to him as he cupped your jaw and pulled you closer, as you pulled your hand from his hair to move up and down his arm, to lightly press your nails into his skin.

Maybe it was that, your nails raking along his biceps, that flicked some switch in Bradley, but you didn't know for sure and you didn't care as his tongue ran along your bottom lip, asking for consent, asking if- and your lips parted without hesitance, with a soft, low sigh, with your nails digging into his arm because that seemed to have had a wonderful reaction the first time. He pulled you closer, closer, closer, pulled his hand from your cheek and grabbed your waist instead to pull you even closer, closer, closer there too.

You trailed your fingers down his arm as well, abandoning your scratching in favor of softly stroking, giving yourself time because oh, you had all the damn time in the world with him, to reach the back of his hand, to wrap your fingers around it (your pinky touched his pinky and you had to smile into the kiss, despite how hot and bothered you were getting) and slid your other hand back up into his hair to tug on his roots. Then, just because you could and just because you wanted to, you pushed his hand from your waist over your hips and down to the top of your thigh, right where your nightdress ended. You could feel Bradley's fingers flexing, gripping just a little tighter now that he had naked skin under his fingertips. That was all the confirmation you needed to bring his hand up again, to slide it softly, carefully, slowly over your underwear, your nightdress bunching up above his arm, until he was holding right onto your waist again - onto the naked skin of your waist, just because he could and just because you wanted him to.

That was when he pulled back, his forehead still pressed against yours, his eyes still closed, his fingers still tight on your waist.

"Fuck", he muttered, breathless and panting. "We should probably stop before this goes too far."

"There's a too far?", you asked, just as breathless and just as panting.

"With you?" He opened his eyes to look right at you, his thumb brushing over your skin again. "Of course not. But this is a hotel room and we're on borrowed time and most importantly, we just had our first kiss. I'd like to take you out on an actual date first."

Your heart stopped beating for a second. Then it started hammering. Blood rushed to your ears and you heard a frantic ringing and you had to close your eyes and bite down on your lip and then open your eyes again just to make sure that this was, in fact, all still reality, and that it was indeed happening, unfolding as it did. That Bradley was here with you, that he'd touched and kissed you, that he wanted to take you out on a date.

"I'd like that", you whispered finally. "I'd really like that."

[missmarveledsblog]

It's fate part two ( Bradley bradshaw x reader)

summary : bradley can't stay away and well jake soon finds out leading to a blow up game of dogfight football

warning: none its still goofy fun well one fight but other than that it's fluff

previous part

Never had he been sure of anything then fact was he sitting across from his future wife. From the way she laughed to smile , how she animatedly told him of the different kids in her class and how each was a character in their own right . he imagine would she talk like that about their kid albeit he was getting a little ahead  since he hadn’t even asked her on the first date nor did her brother his fellow aviator and well close friend he was even talking to her in the first place .  yet in that moment i wasn’t on his mind , jake wasn’t on his mind as he sat in the cafe on what was the third time he was meeting with the woman he couldn’t get out of his head. 

“ i’ve not let you get a word in have i ?” she chuckled looking up as she took a bite of her brownie . 

“ seriously talk away it amazing to hear about little katie and her overcoming the sandpit but i do wanna know if little zack got his dog cat yet?” he smiled almost dreamily as she laughed  the way her head fell back and the way the sound literally warmed his insides better then any coffee he’s drank so far taking full advantage of his weekend off  not caring to go to the beach  or beat jake in dog tag football like he usually is no bradley is content with sitting in a cafe listening about kids he never even saw . so lost in her not even the buzzing on his own phone snapped this spell she had on him till her own went off . 

“ sorry let me take this” she smiled before bringing it up to her ear. “ hey idiot … yeah i can come and bradley can bring me  .. what he’s here with me know  yeah jake we will be there soon” she rolled her eyes before hanging up . “ my dumb brother wants us to meet him at the beach something about some game” she shrugged as bradley came crashing back to earth. 

“ yeah sure  lets go i’ll follow you” he smiled as took got ready to leave watching as she walked out. “ well i guess i’ll see my parent quicker than i thought i would “ he sighed  leaving a tip on table  before slowly heading to what was going to be his doom . 

From the look on jake seresins face when they arrive on the beach well doom was the right and accurate world to describe the following . 

“ I’ll sit with little seresin ..hey i’m natasha you can call me nat”  phoenix smiled really not wanting to be caught in the crossfire of what was about to come as Mav called the two captains to only be jake and bradley . 

“ i told you she’s off limits chicken “ jake glared getting in position . 

“ i told you it’s fate bagman “ rooster almost copied as the two glared it didn’t matter who was on side no this was between them two and them alone in this game .  the moment javy passed the ball throwing it to bob who ultimately tried to throw it back to jake only for fanboy to intercept and throw it to payback then in turn threw it too rooster .  well with who he was determined to impress stood on side lines rooster ran playing probably the best he had since he ever came across the game . 

“ 1 point to roosters team “ Mav called as y/n cheered making her brother pissed off . 

 Throughout the game both men done whatever in their power knocking each other over diving and dotting  til the scores where tied both panting and glaring at each other as their teammates honestly was happy to call it a tie . 

“ is it usually this … violent” y/n asked nat worried for both men . 

“ well there a more push rate here” nat winced instantly catching her on to what it  was . 

Once she watched as the two began head to head like to bulls charging til it was no longer just pushing and well fist started fly sending the men over pull them apart both men yelling at mav with bruise cheeks and egos and she walked closer. 

“ he’s dating my sister” 

“ it’s not a date …yet she’s an adult asshat” .

“ a girl really grow hell up both of you” mav rolled his eyes as the two began shouting back and forth . 

“ sorry sir may i try  “ she smiled sweetly up all doe eyes and sugarly sweet . 

“ i’m willing to try anything kid knock yourself out “ now what mav didn’t expect was the loud whistle  that shut the boys up or the fast she grab both of the men by the ear . 

“ now y’all gonna talk like adults or am going to show you how we treat misbehaving children  “ she looked between the two sternly as they instantly shut up . 

“ you can’t date rooster , one he’s old as hell and two he’s my friend” jake huffed. 

“ jakey buddy you have slept with  i could easily name five of my friends and another five co workers   another think if i wanna sleep with or date someone i will choose myself i am adult seem more of an adult then you” she crouched. 

“ i said that , i’m not old as hell ” rooster spoke up . 

“ and you well goading my brother and hitting him ain’t gonna happen again because idiot or not i kinda love him is that clear “ she  stood as he gulped and nodded. “ now  shake hands and grow up because i will give that man my number and jake can tell you how my mama kept his ass in straight line” she stomped over to Mav. 

“ sorry chicken “ jake grumbled. 

“ sorry bagman” . 

“ like you mean it jesus “ she rolled her eyes . 

“ sorry bradley .. shit maybe if she dates you  be less well that” .

“ sorry jake … dude i might marry you sister today” . 

“ you can take me on a date first bradley brooster radley “ she chuckled gathering her things. 

“ have you ever thought of joining the navy?” Mav asked shocked at the scene before him . 

“Oh and bradley pick me up at 7 “ was all she said before she headed up the beach . 

“ yessss ma’am… my wife is so pretty” he sighed happily . 

“ you aint married her yet” jake chuckled 

“ i’m gonna i’m telling you its’ ….” 

“ Fate “ the all groaned . 

Now as first date would be, he was never a ball of emotions as he was now almost pacing a hole in jake seresins floor as he waiting for her to get ready . 

“ really man i’ll lose my deposit you keep that up “ the blonde huffed eyes on the game that played on his television . 

“ sorry my nerves are gonna dent your income man i’m freaking out and all while in the chicks living room in front of you “. 

“ man where was confidence from earlier look for some weird reason she really likes you so i’m pretty sure even you couldn’t screw this up “

“ yeah thanks for the shiner really what my outfit needed “ he grumbled . 

“  you ready” she called and god she almost knocked him on his ass as he took in the sight of her man she could wear a potato sack and still look like a queen . the white sun dress hit her thighs or the red lips that paired well with her nails like something straight out of his fantasy . 

“ yeah .. yup ..yes.. Lets go “ he sighed ignoring the weird look jake was giving him or the way she was hiding her amusement . 

“ home by midnight” jake called . 

“ i’ll be home whenever i want to” she called back as door shut .

“ jesus he really is gonna be my brother in law” the blonde groaned .

part three

[shadowsndaisies]

hangman meets 'thena

wc: 1.7k

synopsis: word is, there's a new pilot on board carrier air wing nine, and she flies for the VFA-14, the Tophatters.

main masterlist

athena-verse master post

a/n: the highly requested hangman and athena meet blurb, let me know what else you'd like to see from this universe, especially things that exist outside the storyline. or even if you just want more of certain characters. This serves as a precursory understanding to Jake and Athena, it probably doesn't answer every question about them, but it might help you see their foundation a bit better. but special shoutout to @djs8891 @tgmreader @rory-cakes and @fanreader75 for asking specifically about hangman and athenas dynamic (mentions at the end as well)

You’d heard of him, everyone active had. The only active aviator with a confirmed kill, never mind that your dad had two.

Hangman was exactly what you expected if you were honest.

Phoenix, who had taken an instant liking to you as soon as you’d been reassigned to the Tophatters, had filled you in on all the Lemoore gossip. Phoenix flew with the VFA-41, the Black Aces, also based out of Lemoore, and in fact, on the same carrier as you, Commander, Carrier Air Wing Nine. Her first order of business was getting you caught up on the carrier, that included learning the players, and while she was happy to introduce you to different Naval officers, the only one she warned against was Hangman.

Someone really should have told her that at your core, you were your father’s daughter.

Let it be known, you did not go looking for him. He appeared in all his Ken Doll Aviator glory as you were doing a morning check on your F/A 18E. Apparently he also flew an F/A 18E, ‘Nix on the other hand had an F/A 18F, as she normally flew with a WSO.

He approached, full of cocky attitude, and maybe it was all the years being raised by both Ice and Mav, but when he spoke it was like you could understand him just as fluently as you did with them. You could see where Nat was coming from with “honestly, Athena, Hangman in two words? Texan Douchewad.”

“Well, Howdy, darlin’, scuttlebutt was that there was a new girl on board, glad to meet you, name’s Hangman,” was his introduction.

You couldn’t help the smirk when he said girl, “Isn’t the hallmark of a proper southern boy, that he’s, well, proper?” you shoot back, eye brow quirked. “I’m a woman, not a girl.”

It was fun, watching the way his smirk melted, how his brow furrowed, as he tried to catch up.

“You-”

“Phoenix gave me a run down, but to be honest, I’ve always preferred forming my own perceptions,” you shrug, as you continue your check.

As you brush past him, you aren’t surprised to hear him following after you. “Ah, so my reputation precedes me then?” he muses, and you can see the way he uses his charm and humor to cover, a shield of bravado, too bad he didn’t realize you were raised by bravado.

“Not exactly, though I did see your plaque at Top Gun, to be fair, I saw Phoenix’s too,” you shrug again.

“So you’re the fresh blood, huh?” he prompts, and finally you turn and smile at him.

“I guess fresh blood is better than being called new girl. Name’s Athena, you’d do well to use it,” you tell him, smile in place.

“Athena? As in th4e Greek goddess of war and wisdom?” he asks, brows furrowed down.

“That’s the one,” you nod, moving to check the landing gear.

“Athena as in, the Naval Aviator who climbed through the ranks and had two separate stations before she went to Top Gun?” he follows up and you turn.

You turn to face Hangman, and now your brows are pulled, “How’d you know that?”

“I keep tabs on things that pique my interest,” he shrugs, and your lip curls on the end. “Rumor was you had Admirals arguing over who got you under their command…”

“Nice to meet you Hangman,” you decide finally, climbing back from under the plane, and offering him your hand.

“Pleasure’s mine, Miss Athena,” he smirks back. “It true your old man flew too?” he tacks the question on as he shakes your hand.

You can see it in his eyes, nepotism, you know it’s where is brain’s gone. It’s like you couldn’t escape it, everyone assumed that’s how you got as far as you have, as quick as you have. They were wrong.

“Yeah, mostly f-14s though, nothing with the juice of my baby,” you straight up lie, so what if your dad was still flying? So what if he was probably flying f/a-18s or something experimental? No one but you needed the specifics, and you’re pretty sure it wouldn’t help you fight against the nepo-baby claims. Too bad no one realized how much of a detriment being attached to Maverick actually was. It made most of the higher ups uneasy about taking you on, unsure if you’d inherited your father’s need for speed and reckless streak, you had, but you were just better than him at keeping it in check, if Ice taught you anything, it was that — “ice cold, kiddo, no mistakes.”

“Must’ve been nice, having a leg up like that,” he’s still smiling as he talks down at you.

You match his smile and catch the flicker of confusion in his eyes as you walk up closer to him. “It was, see, it prepared me for a lifetime of dealing with cocky naval aviators and their inflated sense of bubble wrap bravado.”

“That all?” he presses, staring down at you, the two of you now face to face, staring hard at each other, but you caught the little twitch of his eye at your term.

“No,” you smirk before turning and walking away, “but I’ve got a hop to prep for, see you around Hangman.”

…

He finds you in the Mess later that day. You’d just returned from morning drills with your squad, and was eating with Phoenix.

“Ladies,” he greets, setting his own tray down in the seat opposite you.

“And I’ve officially lost my appetite,” Phoenix decided, standing up. “Athena, I’ll catch you later, I’d say it’s nice to see you, Bagman, but we know better,” she states, grabbing her tray, patting your shoulder and walking away.

“You sure know how to clear a room, Hangman,” you note, eyes flicking to Phoenix over Hangman’s shoulder, Nat was clearing her tray and pauses to look back and roll her eyes dramatically as she looks at Hangman’s back.

Your lip twitches and you lift your glass of water to cover up the smile threatening to split your lips.

“Bubble wrap bravado,” Hangman repeats back to you, echoing your statement from yesterday.

“What about it?” you challenge.

“Explain it to me,” it’s not a question, not in how it’s phrased, but you understand that he is asking.

“Protective to an extent, easier to pop than you think, so long as you apply the pressure properly. Problem is, everyone knows when it does, it’s usually a bit loud,” you explain, and he seems so incredibly focused on you.

You didn’t mind the hyper-focus though, you’d coined the term a long time ago. It had originally been for a different boy, one with a temper, but who you’d watched grow up. Ice had thought it an apt descriptor, he’d even taken it to describe a few officer’s he’d interacted with over the years.

“Hmm,” he hums, eyes glued to yours.

“You disagree?” you ask.

“No. I think you hit it on the head,” he admits and your lips curl up just the slightest bit, at least he seemed honest… cock sure and stubborn too, but honest.

“A naval aviator for a father was a lot of things, Hangman,” you admit, hesitating for a moment, deciding how much you wanted to say. “It was limited time, and firm goodbyes. It was getting behind a yoke for the first time when I was 12. It was learning ranks at the same time I was learning how to do multiplication,” you say, and you study how his expression changed which each revelation. “Having a Naval Aviator for a father might have given me a home field advantage, but that’s all it did. The rest, the wings, the assignments, I earned those,” you tell him seriously.

“Sure you did,” he nods along condescendingly, but his eyes betray his curiosity, and for now, that was enough for you.

You smile again at him, though this time it is a bit sour. “You don’t believe me, that’s fine, fair even, to be skeptical. But you should know, you’re gonna eat crow when you realize how wrong you were,” you tell him seriously, before standing up with your plate and glass, and walking away.

…

You get your chance to prove him wrong just a few days later when the Tophatters get assigned to a drill with both of the other squadrons on board the carrier, the Black Aces, and the Vigilantes. Meaning both Nat and Jake are in the air with you.

After is the first time Jake looks at you with something other than cocky contempt. As if seeing you fly up close resolved some of his concerns, but there’s still something there. He was waiting for the other shoe, too bad no one told him that you’d had both feet firmly on the ground since you signed your life to the Unites States Naval Services.

You get paired with him about a month and a half later for a cover assignment for an emergency evac of a SEAL team.

Normally assignments were set within squads, but it was an emergency evac and the carrier was docked. You and Jake had been the closest to the carrier at the time who were qualified, and so you were the two who were sent off. You flew south into South America, and while a lot of the details were later labeled as redacted, Jake never questioned your ability after. Nor should he. You saved his life.

He did however decide that meant you were friends, much to the immense annoyance of one Natasha Trace.

Considering the entire mission had been classified and redacted, you weren’t able to explain a lot of it to her, but when Jake started choosing his words a little more carefully she did her best not to start anything either. When he started sitting with you in the mess, she eyed him carefully. And when he started following you around in any downtime that lined up, she kept her mouth shut.

She found a new case study in the two of you, the outward and obvious differences between Hangman with Athena, and Hangman without. Her eyes jumping from how easily you let your guard down with him, and how utterly soft Hangman could be when he thought no one was paying attention.

Natasha, to her credit, had tried, desperately tried, to get more information out of you regarding your budding friendship, but all you would ever offer was a simple, “people tend to be more complex than what meets the eye, ‘Nix, I’m proof of that. So is he, and so are you.”

She decided then and there, you had way too much tact and patience, and maybe, just maybe, that was what Hangman needed.

...

everything: @butterfly-skinnylegend

athena’s tags: @omgbrianab @smoothdogsgirl @bazellawriz @sbrewer21 @inky-sun @djs8891 @rory-cakes @geeksareunique @je6291 @whoismurphyslaw @kee-0-kee @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @thespillingvoid @youdontknowe @burningcoffeecupp @mrsevans90

...

[vixenobrian]

Seeing Ghosts

This is the first fic I've written here, so I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x reader

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

"Bradley honey, I'm home!"

No answer.

I sighed, setting down the groceries on the island countertop. I knew he was home, the Bronco sitting in the driveway was a clear indication of that, but I also knew why I had received radio silence.

"How was Mav?" I asked, almost scared of the answer myself.

"Mav's fine hun." Bradley retorted. He must have been upstairs in the bedroom, hiding away from me. I understood how hard this must have been on him, but not seeing my husband run down the stairs and greet me with a kiss when I walked through the door still kind of hurt my feelings. Still, I knew how important his space was after his visits.

"How are you bubs?" I called back. Nothing.

Mav had been in and out of the hospital for months now, more and more parts of his body slowly giving way. For a man who wasn't supposed to live past his 30s, everyone was certainly surprised to see it was in fact old age that did him in. Recently though, it was his brain that was going, and this seemed to be the hardest on everyone.

Bradley had been struggling, badly. Between his parents and Ice, Mav was the only one he had left, and to see him slowly slipping away, losing both his body and mind at the same time? Bradley had barely been able to stand it. Each night he would come home after visiting, crawl into bed, and simply lay his head on my chest and cry. I really wasn't sure what else to do at this point, other than be there for him.

I sighed, grabbing the fancy bottle of wine I picked up from the grocery store, before heading upstairs. We both needed a pick me up, and what better way than a good wine, and a home-cooked meal.

"Roos, darling," I called, slightly pushing open the door to our bedroom. I vaguely caught a glimpse of his figure, but I pushed right past it, wanting to grab the things I knew he needed and was probably avoiding. When he got like this, he tended to neglect his medicine, and I knew if I took a glance at him, I would have too. I grabbed the bottle off of the bathroom counter, seeing it right next to his spread-out shaving kit. I pushed back into the bedroom, finally looking him in the eyes.

"Roos, I have a- oh God!"

Rooster sat on the edge of the bed, his big broad shoulders slumped over in defeat. I could tell he had been crying by the dark red circles around his eyes, but none of this is what concerned me. Above Rooster's top lip laid no mustache, something he had worn with pride for years. He always considered it his best feature and took meticulous care in grooming it. I had never even seen him without it. I knew something had to have been terribly wrong.

I sat down the wine on the dresser, my excitement fleeting with the bottle, before reaching for his face. I brought my legs over him, straddling his lap, before taking his face into both of my heads. Immediately, I began to wipe his tears, while simultaneously peppering kisses to his cheeks.

"Roos, honey, what happened?"

"He called me Nick again."

My heart sank, pulling him fully into my embrace. I felt tears start to fall from my own eyes and the boy beneath me began to sob, shaking in my embrace. His hands clenched the back of my shirt, as I attempted to comfort him in his sorrows.

"Bradley, I am so sorry," I said. I felt guilty. I felt anger toward Maverick, even though I knew none of it was his fault. Still, he had hurt Bradley, my Bradley, and the anger that came with that radiated through me. I took a deep breath, trying to push these emotions down.

"I just want him to see me" He whimpered into my shoulder. My hand found the nape of his neck, slowly playing with his hair there. It was his comfort spot, and I felt him slowly relax into me, letting all of his body weight fall freely as if we were being combined into one. I let him lay here for a few minutes, switching between playing with his hair and rubbing his back, before slowly backing away, and once again taking his face into my hands.

"Bradley, honey, I am so sorry that happened to you, but I need you to know, no matter what happens, Maverick loves you so much sweet boy," I comforted, "and on top of that, I love you so much. So no matter what, you are loved, Bradley."

He pulled me in the back of my neck, planting a sweet kiss right on my lips. The lack of hair felt foreign to me and caught me off guard. I pulled away, still holding his face in my hands, when I noticed his cheeks turning a color red.

"So, how bad is it?" He asked genuinely, causing me to chuckle.

"You are still the most handsome man in the world Bradshaw," I told him genuinely, "but how long before it grows back?"

[roosterforme]

Don't Drag Your Feet (Rooster x Reader)

Part of The What If Collection of blurbs for Roo and Baby Girl. Written for an ask. My masterlist. Banner by @mak-32

Warnings: just fluff

Bradley was lounging in his bunk on base in San Diego, partaking in his weekly phone call home to his parents. He smiled as he held the phone to his ear while Carole Bradshaw talked a mile a minute. He kept trying to cut in, knowing she would want to hear what he had to say, but she was going on and on about her cousin Brenda.

"Mom," he tried again, running his fingers through his hair. 

"Oh, Bradley, all the cousins want to see you. Do you know when you'll be back in Virginia? Your dad and I figured you'd be back on base here by Thanksgiving at the latest?"

But he closed his eyes and thought about the one thing that had him hoping to stay in San Diego permanently. "Mom. I met a girl."

The line went completely silent. 

"Mom? Are you there?"

And then all he heard was a loud screech that had him pulling the phone a few inches from his ear. "Goose!!! Baby! Get in here! He met a girl! Bradley met a girl!"

"Mom," he groaned into the phone. "It's not...anything serious." It wasn't. But he wanted it to be. 

"Maybe it's not serious yet, but Bradley, darling, you never tell us anything about the girls you're seeing. All I know is that there are plenty of them, and that you don't seem to let any of them stick around. So when can we meet her?"

He sighed as his dad's voice carried through the phone as well. "Who's the girl?" he asked, and Bradley could hear the smile in his voice. 

"He won't tell me anything about her!" his mom complained, even though she'd found out less than a minute ago and hadn't let Bradley speak at all. "What's her name? Are we allowed to know that much? And what does she look like? And did you meet her at work? And does she want to give me grandchildren?"

"Jesus, mom. Just, hang on and I'll text you a picture of her." 

As Bradley pulled up the photo he wanted to send, he smiled. You were gorgeous. He was obsessed with the perfect curve of your cheek and your smile. When he sent the photo he told them your name, and that you were also a naval officer with multiple degrees from the naval academy. And then a screech even louder than the first one came tearing through the speaker.

"Bradley! She's beautiful! Goose! Look at her! Our grandchildren will be stunning. And her name sounds perfect with Bradshaw after it."

"Mom, I think you're getting ahead of yourself here-"

"I can tell you're serious about her! I'm not getting ahead of anything."

Bradley sighed. "I just think I might have stronger feelings than she does."

"Have you told her yet? That you're in love with her?" she asked.

He was in love with you. But he was too afraid to say it yet. Not before the mission. It was too soon. 

Then he heard his dad's voice. "Some advice for you, son. If she's that pretty and that smart and you care about her that much, don't drag your feet."

But Bradley always dragged his feet. And women never kept his attention. He was thirty five years old, and he had only had two girlfriends. 

You were different. He could tell right away. But you were way out of his league, and he didn't know the first thing about how to keep you. How to make you his. But he wanted to. He really wanted to. 

"Listen to your father, Bradley. We were engaged by our sixth date."

"Yeah, I know. You've told me about a million times." But he was smiling into the phone now, because even he knew that the kind of love his parents had was rare. He's grown up around it, but he'd never experienced it himself. Until now. 

Then he heard his mom ask, "Do you want me to fly out with my engagement ring? I can probably fly out on Tuesday so you have it for when you're ready. And then I can meet your dream girl. We can all go out to dinner with Mav."

Bradley laughed and cradled his forehead in his hand. "Do not fly out on Tuesday, okay? It's way too soon for that. And if you give me your ring, what will you wear?"

"I'll buy her a new one," his dad said immediately. "Something big and pretty for my girl."

Bradley knew there was no other way to get them off the phone, so he said, "Tuesday is no good for me. But I'll think about it, okay? I'll think about...taking your ring so I have it. Just in case."

When he told them he loved them and ended the call, he was already thinking about it.

[bradshawed]

how the grinch stole christmas with bradley pls!!! xx

warnings — fem!reader, mild swearing, fluff, jake slightly self-depreciating, fluff mastermind seresin, kissing

note — missed writing for tg:m so fucking much! apologies that it's not very christmassy, i only just remembered as i got to the end 😬 it's also doesn't flow the best so please excuse that. hope you like it x

drew's christmas celly x && main masterlist!

...

Bradley's been pining after you for years, not saying a word, or as Jake would put it "You're snug on that perch, waiting for just the right moment... that never comes." Maybe he was waiting for the right moment, or maybe he just simply wasn't interested and it was all in your head. Whatever it was, you were sick of waiting around to find out.

Who were you kidding, have you seen that man?!

You were used to the Dagger Squad leaving for months on end, having grown up around the Navy, so when they left, it didn't feel any different than usual. But the moment they got back, you knew something was off. And it was driving you insane trying to figure it out and decipher the looks they gave to each other.

Jake was going to punch Bradley. He was sick of Rooster longingly staring at you across the bar. If he heard the brunette give one more excuse as to why he hadn't asked you out yet, he was going to do it himself.

You would think a near death experience and reuniting with your reckless godfather would knock some sense into you but nooooo.

"Alright, that's it." Jake slammed the empty beer bottle on the table, the bar stool screeching on the hardwood floor as he stood up. Bradley's eyes narrowed tracking Jake's movements as the blonde sauntered to where you worked behind the bar.

"Hey Jake, what can I get y-"

"I won't say this twice so listen carefully. Bradshaw's in love with you but hasn't got the balls to admit it. He's scared of you putting you through what Carole went through or some bullshit because he's a good guy but he's depriving himself of a chance to fall in love with you and start a real family. Between us, he's got a better shot at it than me and I don't want him ending up like Mav so listen up.."

Your shift ended as per usual to the sweet croon of Bradley's rendition of Elvis' Can't Help Falling In Love for your ears only as you locked up.

"You and Jake were talking for a while tonight."

"Mmhm, I could talk about you for hours." You smiled cheekily at the blush creeping on his cheeks, "Walk with me?"

"Always."

You both walked in silence to the sound of the waves crashing on the beach.

"A little birdy told me you were in love with me."

Bradley's heart stopped, and his feet followed. His mind racing as his back turned rigid, Hangman was about to become a very literal call sign.

"Good thing I'm in love with you too."

Bradley's mind was still reeling from your first comment that he had barely processed the second. You'd said it so casually and matter-of-factly that- And god, you were smiling up at him so sweetly, waiting patiently as he processed that he was afraid his heart was about to burst.

Your heart was about to explode. He could probably hear it thumping under your his hoodie. Fuck. This is the last time you follow Jake's advice.

You turned to look at the moonlight reflecting on the calm water. Beautif-

Bradley's lips were on yours. Now you were the one in shock.

Fuck. He can't believe he'd missed out on this all because he was afraid. Maybe Jake was right, not that he'll ever admit it.

You both pulled away, catching your breath, your mind becoming increasingly aware of his hands on your waist.

"I- I don't know why I waited so long to tell you-"

"You still technically haven't." Bradley raised his eyebrows as if daring you to say more, his hand travelling up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, effectively silencing you.

"I love you," he replied, kissing you sweetly again, "and I know we need to talk about this and that I've got a lot of lost time to make up for, but you're it for me. I've known that for a long time."

"You're it for me too B..."

"And Jake says Merry Christmas."

[allforreading-fandomthings]

A couple of thoughts after re-watching TGM

What I think is actually canon

Amelia is Mav’s daughter (Penny hints at that when she’s talking to Mav about her) but Amelia doesn't know

Mav considers himself to be Bradley’s dad (Mav answers when Bradley asks his dad what to do) 

Bradley considers both Goose and Mav to be his dad (after Mav says that Bradley saved his life, Bradley says that his dad would've done the same - considering the fact that Mav has already saved Bradley's life you could see that as Bradley seeing Mav as his dad, too) 

Bradley has lived with Mav for a considerable period of time (Mav says to Penny he tried his best to be a father for Bradley) 

Thoughts concerning TG3 / Predictions 

I think they gonna set up Phoenix as Bradley's love interest because they seem very close in the movie (but for me they’re more like besties) 

I hope they gonna keep the character's of Warlock and Cyclone (with Cyclone basically hating Mav and Warlock secretly supporting the shit Mav does all the time) and also they need to keep at least Warlock because somebody needs to prevent that Mav is thrown out of the Navy

I hope there still will be references to Ice (I just love him and he needs to be mentioned) 

Other thoughts 

I actually paid attention to the hangster dynamics for the first time

Jake’s and Bradley’s first hook up is right after dogfight football

Bradley is Ice-coded while Jake is Mav-coded 

I ship bobnix now (I think Nat and Bob are very sweet together in the movie - need to find some fluffy fics about them)

The lifelong friendship between Ice and Mav just kills me (solely sticking to the movie here because otherwise icemav is endgame imo), like Ice basically knows everything about Mav (every shit he has done at work, everything around him pulling Bradley's papers, private problems he’s had etc.) and also the other way round (Mav supporting him during his battle with cancer and a whole lot of other things which we don't know because sadly Ice is only a minor character in both movies) 

I love that Mav refers to Ice in the whole movie only by his nickname

I had to keep myself very hard from crying during the funeral scene (if I had watched it alone, I probably would’ve cried) 

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 24/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FORTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN TWENTY TWENTYONE TWENTYTWO TWENTYTHREE

CHAPTER TWENTYFOUR

                He loses his temper much easier when he’s tired and he’s tired a lot the first year the restaurant is open. He knows the saying burning the candle at both ends, but he’s found some way to hollow himself out and also burn the candle from the middle as well. Of course he’s a hard worker, expects those around him to put in just as much and expects the best from them, but when Vi calls him a thoughtless and heartless bastard in Italian while the film crew are still rolling he knows he’s gone too far but his brain is so fried he doesn’t even know what it is he’s done wrong. He crashes for sixteen hours and then has to go and make several apologies. Especially to Vi.

…            …            …

                “This is Admiral Kerner.”

                “Hello Admiral, this is Bradley Bradshaw.”

                There’s a pause on the other end of the line and Bradley bites his lip. He has no idea if the man he called Uncle Sli growing up will remember him. It’s been over fifteen years since he left, and longer since he’s seen him or spoken to him. But he knows how to sweet talk people and enough people to get Slider’s work number.

                “Baby Goose?”

                “Yeah. Hi Uncle Sli… you do remember me huh?”

                “Holy shit… of course I remember you kid. And as if I could forget your face on my TV every time the misses puts it on when I’m home.”

                “Oh. Sorry?”

                “No. Don’t be sorry. It’s nice to see you doing so well. Wait. Why are you calling me?”

                “Uh, I’m really sorry to ask, but I sort of have a favor to ask. Maybe a couple of favors.”

                “Okay. So you’re calling me out of the blue, after not talking to me for years… What do you need?”

                “Uh. It’s probably available to family, I was just wondering if I could know when and where your ship will be calling into port and for how long."

                “Uh. Okay. That’s… all fine. It’s information I can share. Can I ask why?”

                “My, uh, my boyfriend I guess? He’s going to be on your ship for seven months.”

                “You have a boyfriend?”

                “Yeah. So if I could know when and where I might be able to see him, I’d really appreciate it…”

                “I’m helping you organize booty calls!”

                “Uh, yeah, sorry if that’s too – ”

                “Oh no, this is perfect. Your dad would be so proud. Using all the resources available to you so you can get your dick wet!”

                Bradley rolls his eyes and pulls a face, glad he can’t be seen. Because while he’s not wrong it’s not the only reason why Bradley wants to see Jake. He hasn’t heard things like this about his dad in a long time, not since he left Mav’s. He barely remembers his father, but considering his best friend was Maverick, Ice and Slider also considered him friends speaks enough to the joking kind of personality he can imagine him having, coupled with what his mom told him. He remembers warm laughter the most, along with music. Strong arms picking him up.

                “Also, it’s kind of romantic. Your dad was always doing sweet stuff for your mom, making the rest of us look bad.” Oh. He’s never heard that before. Never imagined what kind of partner his dad might have been like and he adds it to the little list he keeps tucked away in his head. “Of course, he was also a terrible flirt, ladies flocked to him. Lucky for the rest of us all he did was flirt and he’d send them our way.”

                Okay, maybe more than he wants or needs to know about his dad.

                “Yeah, anyway Uncle Slider, thank you so much for this. Let me know what I can do to repay you… maybe come and cook you and your wife dinner?”

                “Well, I wouldn’t say no to that, she’d kill me if she found out you’d offered and I turned it down. But I have to ask… does Ice not know about this boyfriend? He could have got you the same info.”

                “Yeah, I know, but… No. He doesn’t know. I kind of want to keep it on the down low for now. We’re only just starting out… Very early days.” God, he doesn’t want to say it’s literally only weeks old, can only imagine how crazy other people might think he is.

                “No no, wait, go back. You mean I know something before Ice? Not only that you have a boyfriend but that he’s a good Navy boy…”

                “Actually he’s one of your aviators,” Bradley says, because there’s no point in not sharing that information. As soon as he sends the care packages and asks Slider to deliver them, he’s going to know exactly who it is. Fuck. He really needs to give Jake a heads up.

                “Jesus kid. Seriously?”

                “Yeah.”

                “Wow. You really couldn’t escape even when you tried huh?”

                Bradley laughs, because yeah, he guesses it might look like that from the outside, but Jake’s career doesn’t actually matter to him, other than the fact that he’s now got the background niggling worry that he’s in a dangerous profession. He finds that there’s no longer any bitterness about not being an aviator himself.

                “Well, I didn’t exactly go seeking him out. Just happens to be what he does, and well… you’re right. I’m not above using any contacts I might have to keep an eye on him and keep him in some comforts of home.”

                Slider snorts at that.

                “I’ll send you all the dates and locations. Plans change of course, but I can keep you updated.”

                “Thanks. I’ll send you some cookies or biscotti next time I send a care package. You still partial to pistachios?”

                “Oh, this just gets better and better. Yeah kid, send me something to keep me on your good side. I am all open to bribery from you.”

                “Oh, there’s one more thing. He calls me Leo. Leonardo. We met in Italy and that’s how I introduced myself, he knows my name is really Bradley Bradshaw, and what happened to my dad, but uh, he’s either completely oblivious about who I am exactly, or he’s really good at pretending he has no idea. So uh… yeah.”

                “Right. Got it. So keep it on the down-low that you’re Bradley Bradshaw.”

                “No. Not really. Just don’t announce it over the PA system?”

                “Got ya.”

…            …            …

                “Lieutenant.”

                “Admiral Kerner sir.”

                “Relax son, I’m not here for work. Just. Turns out we have a mutual friend.”

                “Sir?”

                “Bradley Bradshaw.”

                “Oh! Leo.”

                “Ah. Yes. He did say you called him that. Anyway, I flew with his old man. Was at Top Gun when the training accident happened.”

                “Oh. Yeah. He told me about that. I didn’t realize he still knew people in the service.”

                “Oh, he knows a few,” Admiral Kerner says dryly and Jake wonders who else might pop out of the woodwork. “He was forced onto a different path, and while it might have worked out for the best there are still some deep hurts there.”

                Jake keeps his mouth shut.

                “Anyway, he sent me a care package, because I get mail more regularly. However he sent this to you, care of me. So. I’m now apparently his delivery man.”

                “I’m sorry sir, I’ll ask him not –”

                “It’s fine Lieutenant. He did ring and ask first. Just… he sounded happy. It was good to hear.”

                “Yes sir,” Jake says, not really sure how he can take part in this conversation safely, if this is somehow a weird sort of semi-shovel talk given the reference he made to knowing Leo’s dead father. Does he consider Leo a sort-of son?

                “Enjoy your care package. I know I’ll enjoy mine.”

                “Oh, yes. You too sir,” Jake says, suddenly understanding that Leo must have also sent Admiral Kerner something to his liking, and yeah, if it’s going to keep his CO happy then Jake’s all for it. He takes the package and nods his farewell as he watches Admiral Kerner stride away. He’s going to look up Bradshaw in the database, have a look at whatever Top Gun class Leo’s dad was in, because it might pop up again and he’d rather not be taken by surprise again. He suspects that the whole class might be keeping tabs on Leo, whether he knows about it or not.

                “Why was Admiral Kerner talking to you? What did you do?”

                “Phoenix. Always a pleasure. Why do you automatically assume I’ve done something?”

                “Because you’ve usually done something?”

                “Haha. No. He just, uh, introduced himself I guess. He flew with my boyfriend’s old man,” Jake says, rolling the word boyfriend around in his mouth, because that’s all he can think of calling Leo. He’s never had a boyfriend before, and he finds himself smiling at just the sweet gesture of Leo sending him a care package via the fucking Admiral of all people. Stupidly sweet.

                “You have a boyfriend?”

                “Yeah… You?”

                “More trouble than they’re worth.”

                “Not my one. He sent me a care package.”

                “Through Admiral Kerner?”

                “Yeah. You want to see what he sent me?

                “Do I want to?” Phoenix asks, pulling a face and Jake laughs, in too much of a good mood to get smart.

                “Live dangerously Trace. You might get lucky and I’ll share with you…”

                “Again, do I want that?”

                “He’s a chef. I know you have a sweet tooth.”

                “A chef? Well. Why didn’t you lead with that?”

                Then they’re opening the box, and there’s several carboard boxes, written on the top what they’ve got inside. Cranberry and pistachio cookies. Chocolate chip cookies. Almond and dark chocolate biscotti. Pistachio biscotti. He shouldn’t be surprised, Leo going overboard a little seems very on brand and he has to stop himself from just smiling so widely at the gesture. God, what did he do to deserve such a sweet man doing things like this for him? His sisters are definitely right to be envious.

                “Holy shit these are good…” Phoenix says, and he looks up to find she’s already opened one of the boxes to reveal a resealable plastic bag containing the baked goods. It’s the chocolate chip biscuits and he bites one, crunchy outside, chewy inside, milk chocolate chips and there’s so much sugar he thinks he hears his teeth squeak.

                “Yeah, they’re not bad.”

                “Not bad? These are like… crack.”

                “Hmm. Maybe I just need a glass of milk for the full experience.”

                “Does he sell these? Do you think he’d make me some? I’d suck his dick if he sent me cookies like this.”

                “Well, lucky for you I’m sharing.”

                “Are you sure? If these were mine I’d be hoarding them.”

                “They’re a little too sweet for me.”

                “Your boyfriend is a chef and you critique his cooking?”

                “Everyone has room for improvement Trace.”

                “Even you?”

                “Well, no. It’s hard to improve on perfection.”

                “Perfect asshole maybe…”

                “To your perfect bitch…”

                “What’s his name, this boyfriend of yours?”

                “Leo. Funny story actually. I met him in Italy years ago, like a decade. We… uh, exchanged names, then went our separate ways. Then I was home and there he was at the farmers market my sisters sell their stuff at…”

                “Wow. That’s actually kind of sweet and romantic and nothing like how I imagined your love story might go…”

                “Aw Trace, you imagined my love story?”

                “Yeah, usually it involved conjugal visits.”

                Jake laughs.

TWENTYFIVE

[the-authoress-writes]

The Comfort of Your Arms

Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x ER Nurse Wife!reader

(Not my art)

Synopsis: When a bad day at the ER leaves Mrs. Kazansky a wreck, she goes to the only place she knows she’s safe.

Warnings: Child death, mention of drunk driver, blood, vague descriptions of medical procedures, some cursing, reader is in state of emotional distress, non-sexual nudity, and just a whole lot of fluffy hurt/comfort.

Author’s Note: Huge disclaimer here—this is barely proofread, I just wanted to get this out as soon as possible, since this is a gift for @callsign-skydancer, who was having a bad few days a couple of days ago.

I thought this would ease her need for some soft Tom Kazansky thoughts.

I hope you like this, Sky!!

“Just get home.

Just get home.

Just get home,” played on loop in her head as she drove down the thankfully familiar roads, because she was honestly operating on autopilot.

Her heart rate was about thirty or forty BPM too high, she could just tell from the pounding all over her body.

She knew her body couldn’t sustain that for long, and she had to get home.

House after house passed her by, and finally, she pulled up to the curb of her house.

She coached herself through the motions of turning off the engine, getting her bag and lunch bag in her hand, and stepping out of the car.

The few steps to the door never felt so far as they did at that moment, her knees trembling just as much as her hands were, but she considered it a miracle that she was able to get the key into the lock, and the sound of the deadbolt turning echoed in her head.

As the door opened, the scent of home washed over her, and she stepped inside, almost in a daze.

“Hey, you’re home early!” The sound of her husband’s voice came from what sounded like the kitchen, and her breath shuddered in her chest, as she clapped her hand to her mouth to stifle the sob that was building in her chest.

Footsteps began to follow the sound of his voice as he walked to the door. “I was making my Mom’s piroshkis and beef stew—” Tom cut himself off as he caught sight of her.

She knew she looked like shit in her rumpled clothes, her hair was a mess, there was probably still some blood on her arms, and she was wide eyed.

The silence was heavy as gray eyes swept over her, immediately cataloguing each thing she thought of, and probably more, and he cautiously said, “Milaya, are you alright?”

At the sound of his voice, so soft and gentle, the sob that she’d been holding back burst forth, and the tears sprang from her eyes as she felt her legs give out beneath her.

She had barely made any contact with the floor, when she felt strong arms come around her, and the faint, lingering scent of jet fuel hit her nose, but then, the blackness which had been threatening ever since she heard the tone of flatline, consumed her.

Tom Kazansky would argue that it had been a great day for him; he and Mav had absolutely destroyed the current class of TOPGUN students, displaying yet again, the Kazansky-Mitchell dominance in the air (it’s alphabetical, Mav, your name can’t come first, and I’m older), he finished his paperwork early, and thusly had gotten home about half an hour early.

He knew his wife was working a long shift at the hospital, so after a quick change into more comfortable clothes, he wanted to surprise her with her favorite food from his family recipes.

He’d just gotten the piroshkis in the oven, and the stew was simmering on the stove, when he heard the keys jingle in the lock, and the door open. “Hey, you’re home early!” he called out, hanging the dish towel on the oven before moving to greet her. “I was making my Mom’s piroshkis and beef stew—” Tom cut himself off as he caught sight of her.

She looked beautiful as ever, but her hand was over her mouth, and the look in her eyes was painfully familiar; he’d seen it too many times in the eyes of fellow fighter pilots—hell, he’d seen it in his own eyes, especially after… well, Hop 31.

Her eyes were haunted, glassy with tears, her breathing much too fast.

And most frightening, there were a few stains of dried blood on her arms.

But he knew her well enough to know that if it were hers, there was no way she’d be here, instead of at the hospital, getting treated.

So it must have gotten on her while she was working.

Carefully, he ventured, “Milaya, are you alright?” keeping his voice soft and gentle, speaking as he would to a spooked animal.

He was startled, but not surprised as a sob burst from her mouth, and tears spilled from her eyes.

He lunged to catch her as her legs gave out beneath her and she passed out.

He called her name, gently shaking her, trying to rouse her.

Seeing that it was in vain, he carried her upstairs to the bedroom, laying her down on her side, all while continuing to stroke her hair and talk softly to her, calling for her to wake up.

After ten minutes had passed, and she hadn’t woken up yet, Tom went for the well-stocked first aid kit, grabbing an ammonia snap, rushing back to her side, breaking it under her nose.

She immediately gasped, and sat upright in bed, panicked.

“Milaya, milaya,” he called, wrapping an arm around her, as she tried to scramble out of bed, struggling vainly against his strong but careful grip.

He could see the panic in her eyes, and he got up onto the bed behind her, holding her against him, repeatedly murmuring “It’s okay, you’re alright, you’re here with me,” in the Russian he knew would calm her faster, even though she wouldn’t understand it, all because he knew it would reassure her she was really with him.

He felt when awareness came back to her, the heaving gasps turning into slight shudders. “Tom?”

It broke his heart to hear the tremble in her voice. “I’m here, lyubimaya moya, you’re safe.”

“I’m home?”

“Yeah, you’re home.”

“I made it—I made it home.”

He wasn’t sure why she was asking these questions, but he answered them regardless. “Yes, you did.”

She turned red-rimmed eyes to him. “I made it home,” and suddenly, she shifted her grip to hold him tightly and let out the most heartbreaking sobs he’d ever heard.

He held her through her sobs, unceasingly reassuring her of his presence, carding his hand through her hair.

When she calmed again, he gently said, “I’ll run you a bath, solnishko, how does that sound?

Make it warm, the way you like it, with all the oils and stuff.”

(It was actually closer to boiling, in his opinion, but she loved it, so he didn’t question it.)

She didn’t reply verbally, just nodded, and if she needed to be quiet for a while, that was fine, he could talk for the both of them.

Tom led her to the bathroom, starting the water in the shower/tub, turning the handle all the way to the left.

She was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, staring blankly at the wall.

He reached for her hands, taking them in both of his.

Her hands were freezing, and he rubbed them between his, to warm them up. “Okay, how about we get you undressed?

That okay?”

Again, a nod.

“Alright.”

He started with her shoes, putting them off to the side so neither of them would trip on them, then her socks, patterned with little hearts, he noted.

“Okay, milaya, let’s get your jeans off.”

He pulled her to her feet, directing her to stand on his socked feet so she wouldn’t touch the cold tile of the floor, unbuttoning her jeans with one hand to help keep her balanced on his feet, and tugged them along with her underwear halfway down.

“Okay, you can sit down again, lyubimaya moya.”

Next was her sweatshirt, then her bra.

Normally, this sort of procedure had a very different outcome, and the sight of his naked wife was more than enough for a very different reaction, but at the moment, he couldn’t care less about a “usual male reaction”, wanting nothing more than to care for the love of his life.

By this time, he could feel the steam from the shower behind him, so he plugged the drain and pulled the spigot on the tub faucet, causing the water to flow from it instead of the shower head.

While waiting for the tub to fill, he dropped several drops of her lavender oil into the water, the air filling with its scent immediately, before shutting the faucet once the tub filled.

He helped her into the steaming tub, easing her down into the water, the tension in his heart he didn’t even know he had easing when she breathed a little sigh of relief.

“Okay, zhizn moya,” he said, kneeling beside her, “I just need to remove the piroshkis from the oven and shut the stove, okay?

I’ll be—”

Her hand flew to his wrist, gripping so tightly he winced slightly.

“No—please don’t leave me,” she whispered.

“I’ll be so fast, milaya.

I’ll be back soon.”

“No,” she shook her head.

“Please, solnishko.

The house could burn down if I don’t.”

She saw the reason in this, but Tom could see that it was wrenching something in her to be parted from him, even for so short a time.

So he offered a compromise. “How about this: I’ll sing the whole time, you’ll be able to hear me, so you don’t feel so alone.”

He knew she loved to hear him sing, for some reason, even though he thought he had a horrible voice—he was much better at the piano, in his opinion.

She bit her lip, considering. “Okay—but you have to promise me you’ll come back soon.”

“I swear it on my wings, milaya.”

“Okay,” she let go of his wrist.

He began softly singing “Are You Lonesome Tonight?”, the song they had danced to for the first time when they were dating, backing out of the bathroom, increasing the volume of his voice the further he got.

He ran downstairs, shutting the stove with a flick of the wrist, before grabbing the piroshkis from the oven—luckily, he could see they were still edible, just slightly too brown at the edges.

With his mission completed, he dashed up the stairs, entering the bathroom just in time to finish the second refrain. “See?

I told you I’d be fast,” he grinned.

She plaintively reached for him. “Join me please—I… I need to feel you.”

How could he deny her?

He quickly undressed, sitting in the spot she made for him behind her, bracketing her legs with his, pulling her against him, and she shifted to rest her ear over his heart.

The water had cooled slightly, thank God, so he wasn’t cooking in the water like he would have been earlier.

Tom let the silence sit for a while before venturing, “What happened today, lyubimaya moya?”

At first, he wondered if she had fallen asleep, but then, she spoke. “I knew it would be bad when the paramedics encoded into the hospital; pediatric patient, hit by a drunk driver in the middle of the damn day.” Her breath hitched, and he felt moisture not from the bath fall on his chest. “He was so little, Tom, and there was so much—I tried to save him—I did compressions for forever; his little ribs—but—” her voice broke, and she silently sobbed against him.

At this full understanding of what happened to her today, his heart shattered for her. “Oh, milaya.

I’m so sorry.”

She choked, “Why?

He was seven.

Still basically a baby.

Why?”

“I don’t have the answers for you, solnishko, but wherever he is, I’m sure he’s so grateful you tried to save him.”

“It’s not enough.

I should—who the fuck gets drunk in the middle of the fucking day?”

“The asshole who killed that poor kid,” he thought, but he knew it was a rhetorical question, and that she didn’t really want that answer.

More moisture fell against his chest and he held her tighter.

By the time the water had gone cold, her tears had long since stopped, so with gentle motions, he lifted her up, wrapping a towel around her and another around his waist, unplugging the drain and grabbing fresh clothes for the both of them, quickly throwing on his, then repeated the process he’d done for her earlier in reverse.

Dressed, she curled up on her side of the bed.

“Do you think you can eat a little something?” he asked.

“I don’t want to.”

“You have to.”

She sniffled, “You—you’d have to leave me again.”

Tom offered, “I’ll sing again for you; I promise I won’t make you eat a lot—just a little, for me, please?”

“…Okay.”

He ran downstairs, reprising his “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” while ladling out a small bowl of stew, sticking it in the microwave for a minute, and putting a piroshki on a saucer, returning upstairs to see a soft, barely-there smile on her lips. “You should sing more,” she murmured.

“I don’t know why you think my voice is anything fantastic, I’m much better at the piano,” he smiled back.

“It’s more beautiful than you think.”

He sighed, “I’ll take your word for it.

Now here you go, your favorites; the piroshkis are a little bit too crispy, but it’s still good.

You want me to feed you or are you good?”

When she hesitated, he smiled, “Just sit up for me, okay, I don’t want you to choke.”

It took a while, but he got her to finish the whole bowl of stew, and half the piroshki, tossing the other half in his own mouth, placing the dishes on the nightstand for tomorrow, not wanting to leave her again—his OCD could go screw itself for a few hours.

He got into his side of the bed, pulling the covers over both of them, and enfolding her into his arms, purposely shifted her ear over his heart. “Get some rest, milaya.

I’m here, I won’t leave you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

She had endured hell today, she knew that, but her husband’s gentle care eased the pain in her heart, and the way he took care of her tonight was something she would not—could not—forget.

She would be forever grateful she’d given him a chance three years ago at The O Club, seeing something in him beyond the cocky facade he liked to present to the world.

“I’m sorry I wrecked your dinner plans,” she whispered.

“You didn’t wreck them,” he murmured back.

“But—”

“But nothing.

You were hurting, and I wanted to take care of you.

There’ll be other nights.”

“I don’t deserve you, Tom,” she shook her head.”

He sighed, “I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you, okay?

And I’m not taking any arguments.”

She could hear the smile in his voice.

“I’m so glad I gave you a chance at The O,” she said, repeating her earlier thoughts.

He chuckled, “So am I.”

Silence fell over them again, and she was just about to fall asleep, but she was suddenly seized by a desire to tell him something. “Thank you for catching me,” she breathed, meaning more than when she passed out downstairs.

Thankfully, he understood. “I’ll always be here to piece you back together, milaya.

I love you.”

She smiled, her heart full of love for this man. “I love you too.

And I promise to do the same for you.”

And with that, she allowed herself to drift off to sleep.

Val has indeed sung “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” although with some, ahem, amendments to the lyrics, in the film soundtrack of Top Secret!

Russian Glossary

Disclaimer: endearments and translations taken from Google—please don’t hesitate to correct me if I’m wrong, which, odds are, I am.

Milaya: dear, darling (there are other translations of this word, however)

Lyubimaya moya: my darling/my one and only sweetheart

Solnishko: little sun

Zhizn moya: my life

Taglist

@valmare

@callsign-skydancer

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

@tadomikiku

@malindacath

@aviatorobsessed

@lynnevanss

@djs8891

If you’d like to join my taglist, just send me an ask!

[torchflies]

Hi TG Fandom!

It’s me again! 

So, we all know Rooster had his little meltdown and said his whole schtick: “No wife. No kids. No one to mourn you when you burn in.” to Maverick like a spoiled little brat while having none of those things. And okay, he was mad, sure, but he hit below the belt — anyway, hang on…

Imagine this instead:

A nineteen-year-old Rooster going to college classes at a university that isn't the Academy (after blowing up at the only family he has left), who falls for a Bio Major that offered him a free bulb when his tail-light blinker went out. 

I need you to imagine that he really loves this girl — the full Carl and Ellie from Up — he loves her more than anything. Of course, they have no money and they live off ramen noodles in a shitty studio apartment. But he starts a life with this girl, proposes to her with his Mom’s ring, and all he wants to do is call Mav and Ice, to call the Flyboys, to say look at her, isn't she perfect?

He starts to lose that anger, it flows out of him with every hungry night that he gives up his dinner so she can have more, with every paycheck-to-paycheck month and when they both pull all-nighters to make it through.

He slowly realizes how much Mav must have sacrificed when he was small and suddenly, he feels wrong inside. 

He wants to apologize, to go home. 

But he's still young and bitter and he doesn't want them to be right. He doesn't want not-going-to-the-Academy to be a good thing. He wants to be right. 

So he chickens out of it every time he goes for the phone, finding yet another reason to push it off. 

Until there are three positive pregnancy tests on the bathroom sink and he's barely twenty and they get married at the courthouse because they're desperate. 

They graduate at the same time and she's pregnant with triplets. 

He’s floored, because triplets? 

They have nothing, but it’s a beautiful life nevertheless.

They move to Cali and live in his parents’ old house. Bradley joins the Navy and she decides to start teaching. He refuses to ask for help, even when they struggle, even when he knows his family is less than an hour away. He also feels so guilty, because now there are going to be babies and he has a wife and it all seems so small in comparison. He doesn't care about the Academy anymore. All he cares about is her and the babies.

He doesn't know how to do this, how to be a father without the men who showed him what it is to be one.

And he's going to call, he swears he is…

Then his wife starts complaining about a headache that doesn't go away and her ankles are so swollen. 

He rushes her to the ER as fast as he can, but she has a seizure in the car that goes on for forever. She has eclampsia. She won't stop seizing. They have to do an emergency C-section. She's only twenty-three weeks. 

They lose her on the table, Baby A never makes it to the NICU, Baby C is born sleeping — there was something wrong with the placenta — and they ask him if he wants to try and save Baby B. 

Baby B, the smallest of the bunch, who has a severe form of spina bifida, a cleft lip and is barely a pound. 

Bradley says yes and plans for four funerals at the age of twenty-one. 

But Baby B doesn't die, he gets just about every dangerous complication for a twenty-three-weeker in the NICU, but he doesn't die. 

Mitchell Thomas Bradshaw — Mickey — named after the two strongest men that Bradley knows — comes home with him after seven months in the NICU. 

I need a Bradley who intimately understands what he's saying to Maverick, I need a Bradley who has had both of those things — a wife, kids — and lost them too. 

I need a Bradley who has lived a life in the interim and has grown up despite every challenge he faced, whose anger isn't really anger anymore. 

I need a Bradley who tried to call home once, only once, while his baby was dying in the NICU, and was told to stop calling after what he did by one of the Flyboys (probably while Ice was sick). 

I need a Bradley who has a deeper reason to be upset, who is angry at himself as much as he is at Maverick. 

I need a Bradley who has been raising a child for fifteen years on his own — one who gives him just as much back-talk and sass as he once gave Mav — who lost the person he loved most in the world and his children and somehow had to keep going. 

I need a Bradley who has become Maverick. 

That’s how that line makes sense anyway 🤣

[whohasthecards]

Just imagining, that in a scenario where Mav adopts Hangman or realizes that Jake is his son and takes him in. And it was rough at first as they get to know one another, the growing pains and all that, but they eventually found stability, strength, and love with one another.

But one day, Hangman did something that scared the shit out of Mav, that pissed him off so badly that he starts berating Hangman, shouting and all that. Hangman and the others have never seen Mav mad often, but Mav was just so terrified.

Jake just stands there jaw clenched, as he took it all. Scared that he fucked it up for good, putting his hands behind his back to make sure that Mav doesn't see them trembling.

Eventually Mav ends with a, "What can you say for yourself, Lieutenant Seresin!?"

And Jake opens and clenches his mouth shut, like a gaping fish, brow furrowed, but eyes looking straight forward, as if he was staring at nothing or at the wall behind Mav. Looking straight ahead, yet no where at the same time.

Everyone waits with baited breathe, waiting for Hangman to fight back, retort, or snap back with snarky comments because it's Hangman.

"I'm sorry, da-" Jake audibly snapped his jaw shut, wincing, "I'm sorry Captain Mitchell, it won't happen again." Jake paused, "I'm sorry." He said the added apology quietly, but it reverberated loudly throughout the room.

Mav took a deep breathe before dismissing all of them, leaving him in the empty classroom to collapse on his desk. Wondering if he had ruined the relationship with the son he just got. Thinking if he could have handled it better. Was his son scared of him, now?

Jake's limbs was heavy as he trudged back to his apartment. He was wracked with guilt, wondering why was he so abrasive, why did he always push, push, and push. Why did he fuck up so constantly. Why was he so Hangman and why couldn't he be better?

He went through the motions of cleaning himself up after he went home and curled up in bed to just, sleep the sadness away.

Mav lugged himself into Ice's office, where his husband was working on his desk and he moves behind his chair and wraps his arms around the man, burying is face in Ice's hair, as if to hide his shame.

"What's wrong, Mav?"

"I-I think I scared, Jake," Mav mumbled. "He couldn't even call me, dad."

Ice pulls the whole story out of Mav before he tries to comfort him saying that he and Jake will work things out. How fathers and sons always will have their ups and downs. Fathers are always scared that their sons will turn out too much like them, after all. Also, they are still captain and lieutenant, Jake was probably trying to keep rank.

The last part even Ice said hesitantly, Mav was never shy about letting his kids call him what they want. Neither was Jake.

"Oh god, I-I left him, Ice, I didn't talk to him, I--"

"Shh, maybe so, but you both needed some space, you can go to him, now, bring him home." Ice said, turning to pull Mav fully in his arms. "Everything will be fine."

Mav ends up outside of Jake's housing. Ice waiting in the car, he knocks. No answer. He knocks again. No answer. He gets worried, checking back to see if Jake's car really was there. He grabs a spare key and opens the door, the apartment eerily quiet.

He never notice how bare the apartment really was, Jake always took a lot of space.

His boots were there, though, so were his car and house keys.

He walked into his son's bedroom, softening at the sight of him curled up in bed. He moved closer sitting on the edge as he ran a hand through his son's hair, frowning at the warmth emanating from the boy's forehead. Although, he did see the boy's face softened.

Jake's eyes fluttered open, blearily peering up at him, "Dad?" He asked softly tugging at Mav's heart, inspiring him to lean down and kiss his forehead.

My son.

"Hey kiddo, you good?"

Jake blinked up at the soft kiss, before the day's events came rushing back to him, "Sir I--"

"You never have to call me, sir, okay? It's fine if you don't want to call me dad," Mav said, choking out the last part. "But, you'll always be my son, even when I'm mad, or even if you are mad, you will always be my son, unless you never want to be again."

Jake stared up, suddenly fully awake before jolting up and quickly wrapping Mav in a tight hug. The angle was awkward, but Mav didn't care. His son was in his arms.

Mav tightened his hold around his boy, cradling his head on the crook of his shoulder. Hushing him softly.

"I'm sorry, dad," Jake muttered.

"It'll be okay, we're okay," Mav muttered, holding his son a bit more tighter.