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#Top gun x reader
lieutenantfloyd · 3 days
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Springtime with Bob ♡
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roostersforevergirl · 4 months
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Excuse me sir
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Masterlist
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ddejavvu · 9 months
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I’d love to see a jake seresin x secret wife au. The dagger squad doesn’t realize he’s married until Phoenix invites reader out to the bar with them! Thanks you’re the best!!
You're reminded just how little you know Natasha when she invites you out for drinks, and you end up at the bar adjacent to the naval base. You've been inside only once with Jake before, when you were still dating and he was going through training at top gun. Now he's a graduate, and the place brings back fond memories. You've chatted, of course, when she stops by for breakfast at the bakery you work for, but you've never discussed her career before.
"Hope you don't mind we're close to base," She grins, "My friends wanted to meet here, and I get free drinks 'cause the bartender likes me. They have this bell system to embarrass all the assholes here, and I think I ring it more than she does."
"I've been here before," You admit, tentatively grabbing her arm as she weaves through the crowd, "My husband and I came here once, a long time ago. I don't think the bartender was a woman, though."
"She just bought the place a few years ago," Natasha nods, sliding onto a stool at the bar, "Careful, don't put your phone on the bar."
You tuck the device safely away in your pocket as a brunette woman turns to you, a sweet smile on her face as she recognizes Natasha.
"Hey, Phe," She hums, and you don't have time to ask what the nickname means, "Brought a friend?"
"I'm Y/N," You introduce yourself, noting that they seem like close friends, "It's nice to meet you. I'm Penny."
You nod and beam at her when she offers you an identical bottle of beer to the one Natasha takes. You decline, though, ordering your usual instead. Jake's out with his friends tonight, but he's pledged to be a responsible drinker in case you need to be picked up from your girls' night.
"Can I get, uh," Natasha peers through the crowd, turning back when you assume she's found her target, "Five more?"
"Fanboy's got one already," Penny hums, taking four chilled bottles from beneath the counter, "You want help carrying them?"
"We're good!" You wrap one hand around two bottles, trusting Natasha to lead you towards her friends in the hectic crowd. You don't remember it being this busy when you'd come with Jake, maybe the new management really helped.
She treks you all the way over to a pool table along the wall, where a few men in jeans and t-shirts are huddled. You're taken by surprise, though you're not sure why. You'd automatically assumed her friends would be women, and you wonder if that's concerning. Possible internal bias aside, you smile at the men who stand to greet you.
"Hello," You wave, handing off beers to the two that meet you first,"I'm Y/N, you're Natasha's friends?"
"We are," A tall man grins, holding a hand out for you to shake now that it's not wrangling beers, "I'm Reuben. But you can call me Payback, if you want."
Natasha still has one of the beers in her hands, and you hear the man beside her, who she greets as Fanboy, mention something about the bathroom. Apparently you still have someone to meet.
You refocus on Reuben, "Payback," You tilt your head slightly to the side, "Is that a callsign? Are you a pilot?"
"We all are," The man who'd taken the other beer from you nods along with Payback, a burnt red mustache on his lip, "Natasha's is Phoenix. And I'm Rooster."
Your stomach drops.
"Wait, uh- Rooster? And- and Phoenix, and Payback," Your head spins slightly with recollections of Jake's crazy work stories, and you take a step back, "Are you- you're all stationed to this base?"
"Temporarily," Rooster frowns, "Hey, are you okay?"
"My husband-" You don't get the words out before he emerges from the bathroom, stopping dead in his tracks with a furrow in his brow that wrinkles his forehead.
"Darlin'?" He calls, just loud enough to be heard over the music.
"Jake?" You're equally incredulous, "I- these are the friends you're going out with?"
"Yeah, I-" He wanders closer, still at a general loss for words, "You know Phoenix?"
"Natasha gets breakfast at the bakery," You breathe, now that he's close enough to hear your dumbfounded murmur. You have an audience, but you don't care, not as Jake's confused expression melts into a sheepish smile.
"Well, small world. You look stunning tonight, honey."
"Thanks," You grin bashfully, keeping one hand on your drink and using the other to cup his cheek, tugging him down into a quick kiss. No matter how chaste it is, it gets a reaction.
"Oh," Fanboy gawps, "You're- her husband? You- Hangman, dude, you're married?"
"I am," Jake hums, ringing an arm around your waist and taking the beer from Natasha that she's too shock-stricken to hand to him. He pops the cap off on the edge of the pool table, bringing the fizzing mouth to his lips for a swig. He swallows, "Six years and counting."
"You're married to Hangman," Natasha- er, Phoenix repeats, "You married him?"
"Uh, I did," You laugh, twisting the ring on your finger.
"He never wears a ring," Rooster narrows his eyes at Jake accusatorily, "What, you're keeping her hidden away or something?"
"No," Jake scoffs, "It kept getting dirty when I was doing maintenance on my jet. I keep it on my dog tags, Bradshaw."
He brandishes the chain with both his ID and wedding band on it, and Rooster takes a swig of beer in response.
"How the hell was I supposed to know that, man? I don't stare at your chest in the locker room."
"Well you're missin' out," Jake drawls, turning to grin at you, "Ain't that right, honey?"
"Jake," You hiss, "Not here!'
"Oh, don't get all fussy. Most of these guys have seen my dick," He waves a dismissive hand in the air, nearly spilling his beer. You swear you hear someone mumble, 'unfortunately', but Jake drowns them out, "They don't care if we flirt. Hey, whaddya say we sharpen up those pool skills of yours?"
"Alright," You nod, letting him lead you over to the table, "Natasha, can you hold my drink?"
She takes it like it's her duty to protect you, even though your big strong husband has just bent you over the pool table. It takes you a few tries to be able to hit the ball at all with your clumsy grip on the cue, but when it finally cascades the colorful targets around the table, Jake whoops, landing a congratulatory smack to your ass that his friends groan at.
"Nice goin', darlin'. Gonna beat Bradshaw into the ground in no time."
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topgun-imagines · 7 months
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Say My Name
Requested: no
Summary: You find out just how big Bradley is. He really does live up to his call sign.
Word count: 3.4k
Note: banner by @lewmagoo
Warnings: smut, oral sex (f!recieving), fingering, anal fingering, size kink, overstimulation, unprotected sex, cum play. Please let me know if I missed anything!
Pairings: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x fem!reader
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The air in the bedroom was filled with tension. You were on your third glass of wine and Bradley had just begun pouring his second. Nerves surged through you. Tonight, you were planning on having your first time with Bradley. While the two of you had been dating for nearly seven months, you had yet to sleep together. The thought had you nervously fiddling with the hem of your short skirt.
Bradley had made the two of you a nice dinner before leading you to his bedroom. Despite how much you wanted this, you couldn’t settle the butterflies in your stomach. Sure, you had slept with others before Bradley. However, given the things that you had heard about him from his fellow pilots, you felt more nervous than usual as you stared at the gold chain he was wearing. You had done some sexual stuff with the pilot before, but you had yet to see what he was packing. Honestly, that was what had you the most nervous.
No matter how hard you tried to ignore the teasing from the rest of his squadron about his size, you simply couldn’t. Not when Jake kept making crude remarks about his callsign having some sort of double meaning and teasing you about what he saw in the locker rooms. You could never get away from it. Now, you couldn’t help but find yourself staring at the bulge straining in his jeans.
His deep chuckle was what broke you out of your trance. “See something you like, Princess?” There was a teasing lilt to his voice. You blushed deeply, sipping the last drop of wine from your glass. “C’mere.” He rasped. Instantly, you obeyed, crawling into his lap and straddling his thick thighs. His glass was set on the nightstand before his hands came to sit on the tops of your thighs.
The tickle of his mustache as he peppered kisses across your neck had you squirming in his lap. You clenched around nothing at the guttural groan he let out. From where you were sitting right now, you could tell he was big. Moaning quietly, you nearly melted when Bradley gripped your hips and pulled you down closer to his growing bulge.
“Bradley,” You moaned out with barely concealed need. Another grunt was released into your neck. “Fuck,” Panting with your head tossed back, the feeling of Bradley’s lips travelling down your chest had you shivering. “I need you. Please.” It was the neediest sound you had ever made in your life.
Time seemed to stand still as Bradley lifted you off his lap. You whined at the loss of warmth before laid you down on the bed and crawled on top of you. Cooing quietly at your pitiful whine, the pilot smirked at your frantic state. As Bradley continued to kiss down your neck, your chest was rising and falling quickly. “I’m gonna make you feel real good, baby girl.” His words were a promise; one that you knew he would make good on.
Your blouse was slowly unbuttoned as Bradley peppered kisses across your soft skin. When he finally reached the last button, you were out of breath, panting loudly. Now, you were left in nothing but your lacy bra and short skirt. Unbeknownst to Bradley, you had nothing on under that skirt. Feeling Braldey’s mustache tickling the sensitive skin of your stomach had you wanting to giggle. But the pleasurable warmth in your core had you moaning out instead.
Next, Bradley began massaging your thighs, shimmying further down the bed until he was level with your thighs. You breathed in deeply, nerves rearing their ugly head again. Ever so slowly, Bradley reached under you and pulled the zipper of your short skirt down. It took every fibre of your being to focus your breathing. Bradley had eaten you out before, but knowing what would be coming after had you shaking.
Your legs parted enough so that Bradley could slot in between them, knees bending and feet planted firmly on the cool sheets. Before you even realized what was happening, Bradley had your legs tossed over your shoulder and he was softly nipping the sensitive insides of your thighs. When Bradley lifted his head, he was met with the sight of your bare, puffy cunt. He groaned loudly, his cock managing to harden even more in his tight jeans.
Seconds later you were met with the feeling of Bradley’s tongue running over your slit delicately. Instantly, a sharp cry escaped you. Tangling your fingers in your boyfriend's curly hair, you tugged when his lips sealed around your clit. The feeling had you arching off the bed, your heels digging into the pilot’s back.
For the next few minutes, the only sounds that could be heard in the room were your loud, wanton moans and the lewd sounds coming from between your legs. Bradley’s tongue was now prodding against your entrance, teasing you relentlessly. You found it hard to breathe as cry after cry escaped you. Slowly, your high began building. When two of your boyfriend’s thick fingers pushed meticulously inside your weeping cunt, your back arched so hard off the bed, Bradley had to pause to make sure you were okay.
The grin on his face when he heard your needy whines was nothing short of devious. Without hesitation, he returned to sucking on your clit and working his fingers in and out of your slick entrance quickly. “Oh!” You cried out from the delicious
Bradley was relentless. His thick fingers stretched you open deliciously, making a scissoring motion as he licked around your greedy hole. Your moans slowly grew higher and higher in pitch. Outside of your field of vision, Bradley brought his other hand up and between your legs. The sudden press of his thumb against your tight, puckered hole had you nearly screaming. “Oh, my god.” The words were slurred together. That familiar coil in the pit of your stomach was almost ready to snap.
The tip of his thumb suddenly slipped into your tight hole, creating a delicious pressure. More slick leaked from your slit. As Bradley’s fingers kept up their pace inside of your puffy cunt, the squelching sound got louder the wetter you got. There wasn’t a single coherent thought in your mind as Bradley’s thumb pushed further into your ass, his fingers stretched apart even further and his lips sealed around your clit. All at once, he sucked on your clit harshly, pressed his fingers into your sweet spot, and pressed his thumb in as far as possible.
You were so close. In a few seconds, you would be gushing around his fingers. “Bradley,” You panted, fingers gripping his brown locks like a lifeline. “Stop.” He froze instantly, eyes snapping up to meet yours. His fingers slowed until they stopped and his thumb moved to draw back. But when you whined at the sensation in your puckered hole, he stopped his movements altogether.
“Honey?” He started, rubbing your thigh softly and smearing your slick on your smooth skin in the process. “What’s wrong.?” It was whispered into the soft skin of your stomach The tickle of his mustache against your stomach had you giggling. Even though your core was clenching around nothing and you could still feel his finger moving slowly inside your ass. Regardless of the worry bubbling in his chest, Bradley smiled at the sound of your laughter.
You offered him a blissed-out smile, moaning softly at the movements of his thumb. “Nothin’,” At those words, Bradley slipped his fingers back inside of your dripping cunt. You were so wet that there was zero friction as he pushed them in until the second knuckle. You were instantly whiny again. “Wait,” You tried again. This time, Bradley only slowed his ministrations. “I wanna come on your cock.” The widest grin you had ever seen broke out on your boyfriend's face.
Teasingly, he leaned down and allowed his tongue to flick over your clit. A chuckle escaped him. You had no idea what you were in for. “Honey,” There was a teasing lilt to his voice. “You’re gonna need at least two before I even think about letting you cum on my cock.” His words caused you to let out a shuddering breath. Sure, you knew that he was big. After all, you couldn’t go anywhere without someone reminding you of that fact. But his words caused you to wonder just how big he was.
Before you could snark back, his thumb pushed in as far as it could and his lips sealed around your clit. Crying out again, your heels dug further into Bradley’s back and you pulled so hard on his curly locks you thought that some of the hair would come out. Instead, he groaned and began slurping harder. Within seconds, you were gushing around his fingers, cuming so hard you could have sworn you saw stars.
As you were coming down, Bradley drew his thumb from your ass and pulled his sticky fingers from your core. Your cum slowly dripped down your opening. Once you were coherent again, your eyes slowly looked down at Bradley. He was transfixed on the sight between your thighs. The tip of his index finger slowly began to swirl through the creamy mess between your thighs. It dipped shallowly into your opening and scooped out some more of your cum.
The overstimulation was almost becoming too much for you. Now, Bradley’s finger was swirling your cum around your sensitive clit. Your whines were breathly, so much so that Bradley could hardly hear them. Nevertheless, he continued, drawing moan after moan from your parted and chapped lips.
Within minutes, you were right on the brink again. Feeling that delicious pressure building faster than ever, you shifted your hips until Bradley’s face was, quite literally, buried in your slick cunt. As you tipped over the edge for the second time in a matter of minutes, Bradley stared at your expression in awe.
Your legs were shaking. So much so that Bradley was almost convinced he went too far. But when your eyes fluttered open, Bradley could see the pure pleasure swimming in your eyes. “How was that, Honey?” There was a low timbre to his voice as the coarse hairs of his mustache rubbed against your smooth thighs. Your breathing was heavy and your fingers couldn’t stop twitching, but you had never felt better. So that was exactly what you told him.
“That was amazing,” You sat up, half expecting Bradley to push you back down and pull another orgasm from you. Crawling up your body, one of your boyfriend’s large hands rubbed at your side before grabbing your tit. A soft moan escaped you before you grinned up at the pilot. “But, I think you know that I want something else.” Your words were punctuated with a soft squeeze of his rock-hard cock.
The groan that he released was nearly primal. With one last passionate kiss pressed to your lips, he slowly, almost teasingly, unbuttoned his jeans. Then, he peeled his black boxers off his toned and muscular thighs. Your eyes were fixed between his legs, not blinking as you came face to face with his sheer size. “B-Bradley,” You stuttered, beginning to shake slightly. Snapping your eyes up to meet his, your boyfriend had a smug grin on his face. “There’s no way that that’s going to fit.”
The chuckle that escaped him was nearly mocking. “Yes, it will.” Those were the last words he spoke before he was leaning over you again. His hard cock rubbed into your thigh while he was sucking dark marks that contrasted against your unblemished skin into the side of your neck.
After a few minutes of nothing more than kissing softly, Bradley finally pulled back. His hands were warm as they rubbed softly over your sides, an attempt to soothe you that didn't go unnoticed. “Are you ready, baby?” Regardless of the fact that you couldn’t tame the nerves fluttering in your stomach, you nodded. With a smile, he kissed your forehead. Against your skin, he whispered that he was going to get a condom and the lube.
You stopped him. For the first time tonight, you felt one hundred percent prepared for what was about to happen. “No,” Bradley looked at you confused, wondering why you had changed your mind. Kneeling next to him, you placed one hand on his bare chest, stroking the tanned skin softly. Seductively, you whispered in his ear. “No condom. I wanna feel you.” You were on the pill, and you knew that both Bradley and yourself were clean.
His breathing seemed to stop and then there was a wide smile on his face. You squealed when he kissed you passionately, laying you down on the bed and leaving you breathless as he disappeared in search of lube. The sight of his bare backside walking away had you giggling dreamily. When he returned from the bathroom, you were met with the sight of his shockingly large cock between his legs. At that sight, you didn’t laugh as much.
For the next few seconds, you and Bradley were quiet. Soft touches were shared between the two of you before your boyfriend pulled back once more. His fingers dipped between your legs, checking to see just how wet you were. A soft moan escaped you as he swirled your slick around your clit. The next thing you knew, you could hear the cap of the lube snapping open. Suddenly, you felt the cold drop running down your slit. A hiss escaped you before Bradley slipped his fingers into you once more.
The next few minutes were spent with Bradley opening you up even further than you already were. You could feel that familiar pressure building once more. But, instead of Bradley leading you over that delicious edge, he stopped right as you were about to tip over. You groaned.
With a chuckle, Bradley slowly crawled up your body. “You ready, baby?” You could only nod, wanting nothing more than for Bradley to be seated inside of you. As he poured some more lube onto his hand, you got a sinister idea. The thought had you smirking. However, you were stopped in your tracks as you watched Bradley wrap his hand around his thick cock. His fingers couldn’t even touch.
For the first time tonight, you found yourself focusing on his cock. It was long, longer than you had seen before and curved toward the end. His tip was an angry red colour and as he stroked himself, you could see the pre-cum leaking down his shaft. Your eyes traced the vein that ran up the bottom before your eyes snapped up to your boyfriend’s. He had caught you red-handed.
Now, you decided to act on your plan. Before Bradley could realize what was happening, you had flipped him over and were straddling his thick thighs. He looked up at you in shock. With one hand, you gripped his cock and with the other you stabilized yourself against his chest. Biting your lip, your eyes locked with his as you began to stroke him. After a few seconds of building up your courage, you slowly sank down on him. Your warm and slick cunt sunk down onto his fat, mushroom tip with hardly any resistance.
Within the first few seconds, you were a moaning mess. There was less than two inches inside of you and you were already losing your mind. You couldn’t even begin to fathom taking the rest of him. Bradley could sense that you were struggling, so, your boyfriend’s hands gripped your hips. Slowly, he helped you sink down onto him. The breath rushed from your lungs in a matter of seconds. Now, you were just over halfway down Bradley’s cock and you felt like you were being split in half.
“That’s it, Princess,” He encouraged you as your greedy cunt swallowed another inch of him. “Doing so good.” With careful movements, he pulled you down until your head was resting on his chest, the steady sound of his heartbeat under your ear. Ever so slowly, Bradley pulled down your hips until they were flush with his. The second he was fully seated inside of you, you let out the most pornographic moan Bradley had ever heard.
One of his hands grabbed your ass and the other cradled the back of your head. The next few minutes were spent with Bradley simply letting you adjust to his size. His sheer girth had you whining quietly against his skin, sticky with sweat. After about four minutes, Bradley planted his feet and shifted slightly. That caused the tip of his cock to press right against your sweet spot. Once again, you couldn’t help but moan loudly.
Ever so slowly, your boyfriend began rocking into you. With each thrust, Bradley would only pull himself out a little bit, leaving the rest of his pulsing cock stuffed inside of you. Then he would push back in, filling you to the brim once more. The feeling of his mushroom tip hitting your spot over and over again had you seeing stars. “Say my name.” It was more of a command than a request.
“Fuck, Bradley!” You cried out, hips beginning to raise and fall of their own accord. He grunted hips smacking into yours as he fucked you.
You grunted, feet planted firmly against the bed as he pistoned his weeping cock into you. “No,” He taunted, slowing his thrusts until he was hardly moving. “Not that one.” The realization of what he wanted you to do was almost enough to make you cum.
“Oh my god,” You rushed out, fist forming as you curled into his chest further. “Rooster!” It was almost a scream. The way the words rushed out of you so fast, Bradley was almost concerned. Almost. “Rooster, please. Please fuck me.” At that, Bradley moaned. He had never heard such a sweet sound as you begging for him to fuck you. It was music to his ears.
Loud moans and grunts filled the room as Bradley began to thrust harder and deeper. Now you were clinging to him, puffy cunt stretched out more than you ever would have thought possible. Your boyfriend gripped your hips harshly, raising you up on his thick cock before slamming you down onto him. That sent a sharp cry out of you, your face turning until it was buried against his chest.
Suddenly, your whole body tensed. Bradley, once again, had slipped his thumb into your tight ring of muscle. The moan that you let out was nearly a scream. Feeling his thick cock in your dripping core and his thumb pushing into your ass sent you reeling. “Imagine what my cock would feel like in this tight, little ass of yours.” He punctuated his words with a hard thrust. His thumb slipped out of your ass seconds later. The fucked-out look on your face wasn’t going away anytime soon.
This pattern continued for the next few minutes until Bradley's thrusts began growing erratic. You were so, so close. All you needed was a little bit more and you would be falling into blissful pleasure. Bradley gave you that little bit more in mere seconds.
His thumb pressed hard against your clit, rubbing the small pearl in circular motions. You found yourself clenching around him with your eyes rolling back. There was an obscene amount of your sweet release leaking out around your boyfriend’s thick cock. He held you carefully as you slowly came down from your high.
Before you had time to recover, however, your boyfriend was pumping his cum into you, thick, white ropes painting your walls. You shuddered at the foreign feeling. Regardless of the other guys you had been with before, you had never let any of them do what you and Bradley just did. His cock was still throbbing inside you. The feeling almost had you cumming again.
Ever so slowly, Bradley lifted you off his softening cock. It had you whining and whimpering. You clenched around nothing, his cum starting to leak out of you. It dripped onto his lap as he pulled your hips up. You were breathless as he set your hips down on his thigh, your cunt clenching desperately at the pressure suddenly placed on your clit. His arms wound around your stomach, holding you tightly against his sweaty chest.
In less than five minutes, you were drifting off against his chest, feeling his warm cum still dripping out of your puffy and abused cunt. Needless to say, the next day, you were walking with a limp.
a/n: Thank you for reading! Requests are open :)
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writingdumpster · 8 months
Text
secret wife
pairing: Bob Floyd x fem!reader
warnings: none, all fluff
summary: When you go to pick up Bob at the base the dagger squad finds out that Bob's been keeping a wife from them.
word count: 1k
A/N: Thanks for 3k followers!
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Bob pulled his phone out of his locker as the guys all piled into the locker room behind him. There was a text from you awaiting Bob. 
I’m waiting in the lobby for you. Don’t take too long. xoxo
“Did you guys see the hot girl in the lobby?” Coyote asked as he walked into the locker room. Bob smirked to himself as he started to take off his flight suit. 
“Who do you think she is?” Fanboy pondered. 
“I was gonna find out after we got changed,” Rooster said. 
“Don’t bother. Bet she’s a recruit’s girlfriend,” Payback suggested. 
“Who do you think?” Asked Hangman. 
“I don’t know,” Payback responded. “But I know what a woman in love looks like.”
“I don’t believe that,” Hangman teased Payback. 
“I’m married,” Payback pointed out. 
“So you tell us, but we’ve never seen your wife,” Rooster taunted. 
“Her picture is on my dash,” Payback said. 
“Could be anyone,” Fanboy joined in. 
“You’ve met her, Fanboy,” Payback said. 
“You can’t prove anything,” Fanboy teased. Bob was quietly enjoying the conversation as he grabbed the rest of his things. He slipped his bag over his shoulders and closed his locker. 
“See y’all tomorrow,” Bob said as he headed out to meet you in the lobby. When he rounded the corner his smile widened as you stood to greet him. You were wearing paint stained jeans and an old t-shirt that used to be Bob’s, but it had been years since that was true. It was yours now, just like he was. 
“You changed out of the flight suit,” you said forlornly when Bob walked up. 
“It was all sweaty, angel,” Bob told you.
“I wanted to take it off you though,” you whined. Bob gave you a cheeky grin. 
“You want me to put on the white uniform when I get home?” Bob offered. He leaned down and kissed you tenderly before you could answer. 
“The hot girl is your girlfriend?” Hangman practically shouted from behind Bob. He turned over his shoulder to see the whole squad watching the two of you. 
“Wife, actually,” Bob said. “Been meaning to introduce ya.” 
“You didn’t say you have a wife!” Phoenix exclaimed. 
“Didn’t come up,” Bob said. “We’ve only known each other for a month.” Everyone gawked at Bob, thinking a month was plenty of time to let your friends know you have a wife. 
“He likes to keep me protected from his work,” you piped in when Bob failed to explain himself. Bob wound his fingers between yours. He lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. 
“What’s your name?” Phoenix asked. 
“Y/N,” you told her. 
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Phoenix murmured. You could hear in her voice that she felt betrayed by Bob. You knew he wouldn’t notice though. You wanted to stop him from hurting her more.
“I keep my ring on my dog tags,” Bob said, pulling them up from his shirt to prove it. 
“I thought it was your dad’s,” Phoenix told him. “You always talk about him.” 
“Bobby’s told me a lot about you,” you interjected. “I was hoping you would have dinner with us. I’d like to make the pilot who saved my Bobby a good meal.” Phoenix met your eye and you gave her a warm smile. She gave a tiny nod and smiled back. 
“I’d love to, ma’am,” Phoenix said. 
“I’m her wingman,” Rooster called. “Could say that I kept Bobby safe too.” Bob blushed brightly. 
“Payback and I were on the mission,” Fanboy said.
“I saved Bob’s wingman,” Hangman added. You looked up at Bob in question. 
“They know you’re the one who makes my lunches now,” Bob said. You giggled. You always made Bob his lunches. When he was deployed he didn’t get good home cooked meals, so you made sure he had them three times a day when he was home with you. 
“Well, some of you might have to sit on the couch, but I’d be happy to cook for my husband’s friends,” you said.  
“I can’t believe that baby on board has a wife and you don’t even have a girlfriend,” Hangman teased Rooster. 
“You don’t either,” Rooster spit back. 
“No woman can hold me down,” Hangman joked. 
“He’s the one your sister would like, right?” You asked, trying to keep your voice quiet. 
“You’ve got a sister?” Hangman called out. 
“Yeah,” Bob said. “And I’m quite sure she could hold you down if she wanted.” Hangman’s eyes widened. You chuckled. 
“You’re going to set him up with your sister?” Rooster complained. 
“That’s y/n’s scheme. She wants my sister to live near us,” Bob explained. 
“She’s funnier than you, Bobby,” you said. 
“You do spend a lot of time laughing at me together,” Bob teased. He didn’t really mind though. Everytime he had come home to find you and his sister in tears from laughing so hard it had made him even more sure that he’d chosen the right person to marry. 
“Well, when do I get to meet her?” Hangman asked, a wide smirk on his face. 
“I’ll have her come over for dinner with all of you,” you said. “Next Sunday at 6:00. Don’t be late,” you told them. Then you tugged on Bob’s hand, signaling you wanted to go home. 
“Bye, guys,” Bob said. “See ya in the morning.” With that he slung his arm around your shoulders and led you out of the base. 
“I can’t believe Bob didn’t tell us he has a wife,” Payback muttered. 
“I can’t believe Hangman’s the first choice for his sister,” Fanboy said. 
“Why not? You think Bob wants to be related to any of you?” Hangman asked proudly. Rooster snorted. 
“Yes. I would have thought he’d want any of us before you.”  
A/N: There is a part two of the dinner now available
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justfandomwritings · 1 year
Text
Who Did This To You? (Hangman)
Pairing: Hangman x Female!Reader (no use of y/n)
Word Count: 10.2k because I have no self control
Summary: In your most vulnerable hour, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin is the one to find you, and the one to ask you the ultimate question. "Who did this to you?"
Warnings: Mentions of Abuse and DV (NOT committed by Jake), nongraphic description of resulting injuries, a very one-sided bar fight, mention that a character is going to therapy, insults and confrontation by a past abuser. (This story is a who did this to you trope. While it is only dealing with the 'who did this to you' aftermath of what was done, please keep that in mind.)
Notes: This is just an excuse to write the who did this to you trope. This is self indulgence at its finest.
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“Who did this to you?”
Your head shot up a little too quickly at the unexpected company, and the world began to spin all over again. With a groan, you laid your head back on the bartop, hoping the flat wood would help the world right itself faster.
You’d been lying there with your forehead pressed on the cool wood of the bar, sitting directly under an air vent, for the better part of thirty minutes. The Hard Deck’s AC was working overtime to keep the heat outside, and the rush of cold air blowing down the back of your shirt was doing wonders for your sore arms and back. 
“Hurricane, who did this to you?”
You hadn’t been expecting anyone to be there. Everyone else was down at the beach. You thought you’d have some time alone to lick your wounds and cover your bruises and emotionally recover from what had happened that morning. Penny was too busy watching Maverick. The aviators were too engrossed in a new game Maverick had invented called dogfight volleyball, and the bar was technically closed at this hour. You thought you could slip by and start your shift sight unseen. 
“Hurricane,” The voice was firm, but not demanding. Underwritten with a tone of concern that was very uncommon to that particular voice. “Hurricane,” it repeated. 
You opened your eyes and rolled your head to lay facing the voice’s direction and made eye contact with Hangman. 
You knew it was him before you turned, but for some reason you still did. 
Backlit by the sun’s rays bouncing off his perfect golden hair with an open button-up billowing in the sea breeze, he stood in sharp contrast to your current state. Like an angel stepping out of heaven and into hell. 
In some ways, this was your worst case scenario. Hangman was definitely not your favorite pilot and was very close to your least, and he was certainly not your friend. You were at best frenemies and even that was a stretch. The pair of you had been constantly bickering and making snide comments behind the other’s backs since practically the moment you made eye contact with each other. He intentionally made your life difficult behind the bar, and you rang the bell on him on multiple occasions. 
He was responsible for everyone calling you Hurricane. You’d come crashing through the doors on your first day working at the Hard Deck with a torrential downpour following you in from outside. A drowned cat would’ve looked less soaked through and pathetic than you, and the moment Penny introduced you to the squad, he’d made a snide remark about the Hurricane you brought with you. The rest was history. It became like a callsign to them; your name long forgotten by most. The only pilot who didn’t call you Hurricane now was Bob, and it ground your gears just a little bit more every time you heard it. 
On the other hand, this might’ve been the best case scenario. Hangman wasn’t someone who was going to make a big show of this. He wouldn’t rush down to the beach and ask for help. He wouldn’t fawn over you or ask you if you were okay a million times. He wouldn’t expect you to cry on his shoulder and incessantly pick at you until you broke down. 
“Who did this to you?” Hangman took a step in from where he’d frozen in the door out to the patio.
His expression was like his voice, hard and firm with undertones of the worry that anyone would be feeling in this situation. Hangman wasn’t the nicest guy you knew, but you knew from the other pilots stories of the many times he’d saved their lives that he wasn’t evil, and you didn’t doubt for a moment that he’d at least be somewhat concerned even if he didn’t care particularly for you. 
“You already know who.”
It was true. Devin had been in the bar about once a week for the last six months that you’d been dating. He’d made the rounds through the aviators, none of whom particularly liked him but all of whom had been polite enough not to say anything… except Hangman. 
The second Devin left after his first introductions, Hangman had made his distaste known. ‘Something’s off about that guy,’ he’d said before the door even closed. Phoenix had teased him about being jealous that his snarky banter was no longer the center of your world, but you’d seen it for what it was. A combination of being angry he wasn’t the center of attention and looking to defy you at every turn that was a uniquely Hangman blend. 
Hangman approached you slowly, taking one deliberate step at a time. Every step with such obvious forethought that it gave you the time and the option to back away. A detail you wouldn’t have expected from such an ego-centric man. 
You didn’t back away. Hangman was a lot of things, most of them negative, but you could say with absolute certainty that you weren’t afraid of him. For all the times you’d yelled at him, you’d never been scared of his physicality, and for all the times he'd yelled at you, his hand had never so much as twitched. 
Standing beside you, under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights that threw your skin into sharp relief, Hangman had a full view of the damage. 
“That fucker,” his voice was a harsh, raspy whisper, “I’m gonna kill him.” His hand seemed to lift of its own accord. Flat, open palmed and always within your line of sight, he reached up and stroked his fingers along your cheekbone with a feather-light touch. 
“I already dumped him.” You don’t know why you felt like explaining yourself to Hangman of all people, but maybe it was the determination in his eyes. The way he stared down at your cheek like his eyes could will the twing of pain away. 
Hangman gave a half-hearted, inattentive nod. “That’s certainly a start.” He looked like gears were turning in his head, like he hadn’t given up on his first idea. 
A flood of memories came back to you. 
‘The only active duty pilot with a confirmed air-to-air kill.’ Coyote, introducing Hangman.
‘We call him Bagman, cause he’ll kill anyone and get anyone killed. He doesn’t seem to mind.’ Omaha commenting on Hangman’s aim at the dartboard. 
‘That’s his second air-to-air kill.’ Bob, telling you what he could about the mission they’d just come back from. 
‘Hangman’s deadly in the sky. I wouldn’t wanna cross him.’ Rooster, finally being honest about what he thought of Hangman, after the blonde saved his life. 
Hangman had killed before, and in his line of work, with his level of skill, likely would again. He definitely didn’t mean what he said, certainly not literally. He wasn’t about to rush out to his truck and go hunting Devin in the streets, but it wasn’t something he of all people would say entirely jokingly either. 
You slowly sat up in your chair. The world was spinning less now. Whether that was because the nausea was finally passing or because Hangman’s hand stayed on your cheek, grounding you in the moment, it was unclear. “I appreciate your concern,” you hedged, “but really, I’m fine. I can handle myself.”
Hangman snorted and let his hand fall away. “Obviously you can; you already kicked his ass to the curb on your own. Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna kill him for good measure.” Hangman hopped up on the bar and swung his legs over. 
You probably should’ve objected to his comfort level invading your workspace. Penny was very explicit that no one was allowed behind the bar who didn’t work there and even more explicit that that applied to all naval aviators. Somehow, though, you doubted Hangman would rat you out, at least not today. 
“Are you going to tell Penny?” Hangman mozied around behind the bar, picking up a rag and tossing it over his shoulder. He was looking for something, but he didn’t seem inclined to ask. You weren’t any more inclined to offer. 
It would’ve broken whatever moment was passing between you. Caring? Camaraderie? You weren’t sure, but there was certainly some level of understanding that remained largely unspoken. 
Hangman found what he was looking for in short order anyway. He flipped open the ice cooler and pulled the rag off his shoulder, filling it with a scoop of ice and tying the ends. 
“Not now,” you were disinclined to bring it up to Penny. 
The Hard Deck was a Navy bar, and Penny had made a lot of powerful friends. Hell, you had a lot of powerful friends if you were willing to use them; one of them, or at least a powerful person who was willing to help you, was standing right in front of you. You could only imagine what would happen to Devin if you told anyone. All of it would be deserved of course, but you doubted most of it would be legal. And that really wasn’t what you needed right now, and you weren’t ready to have that conversation anyway. 
“Hold this to your cheek. You wanna get the swelling down,” In a reversal of roles, he leaned against the bar in the place that was normally yours and offered you his makeshift ice pack. 
You took it with a quiet, “Thank you.”
Hangman nodded with a thoughtful expression, watching your hand raise it to your cheek, “I’ll let you tell them in your own time, but you’re going to go to someone to help you through this until then… professionally.” 
It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t leaving room for debate. It was an order as plain as any he got in the Navy. 
You nodded wordlessly against the ice pressed to your face. It was a reasonable expectation, a reasonable request. You weren’t sure if you needed it or not, but you supposed that was the point. You weren’t sure. Better to go too soon than too late. 
“Good,” Hangman sighed, seeming relieved, and pushed off the bar. His muscles flexed with the motion, bulging against the short sleeves of his open button-up shirt. They remained tense as he crossed his arms over his chest. His teeth gritted behind his closed lips. “I’ll keep him out of the bar.”
“Hangman, you really don’t have to-” 
“He hurt you.” Hangman cut you off with a dismissive wave of his hand. He looked serious, deadly serious. “That’s all I need to know. He’s not welcome here anymore.”
Before you had the chance to respond, not that you were entirely sure how you would, Hangman’s eyes left yours, staring at something over your shoulder out towards the beach.
“Do you have any makeup for that cheek?”
Your head turned, and you saw the outlines of Penny and Mav, arm in arm, making their way back to the bar. “Yeah,” you replied, “But my shoulder is a different story. I need to go find…”
Hangman jerked his button up off his shoulders and balled it up, tossing it across the bar to you. “Go quick. Put this on.”
“Hangman, I-”
“Go.” Hangman urged, and you ran off before Penny could see the two of you.
—------------------------------------------------
Your phone kept buzzing in your pocket, but you didn’t have time to check it.
You thought you knew what it was. Phoenix demanding to know why one of Jake Seresin’s shirts was wrapped around your shoulders. Hangman’s weren’t as distinctive as Bradley’s, usually solid colors with a barely-there logo on the pocket. None of the guys had noticed you were wearing it, but you knew Phoenix had the moment she came back in from the beach. She’d shot you a disappointed, skeptical look and immediately begun whispering to Bob as they walked away with their drinks. 
Penny hadn’t been much better. She hadn’t identified which pilots’ shirt it was like Phoenix clearly had, but she was two steps away from asking when the evening rush began to pour in without any sign of slowing down. 
The Hard Deck was slam-packed, and none of the bartenders had a second to spare. The newest class of TopGun recruits were graduating within a week, and it seemed that everyone had turned out for the upcoming occasion.
The bar was crowded with faces new and old. All of the graduating pilots were scattered around, and most of their instructors had made their way in at some point. Some of the pilots had families, wives and girlfriends, who had flown in and accompanied them to the bar that night. There were more than a few old friends in town to visit or siblings using the graduation as an excuse to get away. 
Even most of Mav’s squadron was there. Penny’s old flame had claimed a spot by one of the dart boards, and his lieutenants were all taking turns trying to dethrone Hangman as the king of darts. Normally, they would have migrated to the pool tables by now, but the bar was too crowded for even TopGun’s finest to leverage their way into skipping the line to have a game. 
One of the soon-to-be graduates hunkered down at the bar, some asshole who was billing himself as the new and improved Hangman, kept snapping his fingers at you to try to get your attention from behind the bar. You were dangerously close to ringing the bell on him the next time he did it, and Penny’s fingers were clearly itching to do the same. Tragically, neither of you thought that was a very good idea. Tonight might’ve been the one night where it was simply too busy to ring the bell.
There were so many people you couldn’t see past the sea of bodies pressing in around you, and it was a miracle that you didn’t bolt from the claustrophobia.
Marg after marg. Old fashioned after old fashioned. Beer after beer. The line never seemed to stop, and it was taking its toll on you. Tonight was simply not your night.
“Go,” Penny’s hand touched your shoulder and made you jump, spilling some of the tequila shot you were trying to hand off. “I’ll clean that. You look like you need a break. Take five.”
Normally on a busy night, you would’ve protested, insisted you could hold down the fort and done your best to help Penny push through the rush, but not that night.
Your shoulders slumped in relief, and you ducked under the gap in the bar without much of a second thought, pushing your way through the people towards the door to the kitchen. There was a ‘broken’ stool by the door to the kitchen that was in fact not broken at all but had a sign taped to it that said it was specifically so it was open for when workers were on break. The seat provided some much needed relief for your aching feet and even more aching shoulders.
Shaking cocktails was really aggravating the bruises just beneath the button up wrapped around your shoulders, and you found yourself hurting almost twice as much as normal this shift. That might’ve been why you felt like you were moving in slow motion the whole time. That or the sheer number of people had simply made the task seem insurmountable.
You were just closing your eyes and leaning back against the wall when your phone in your pocket buzzed again.
It wasn’t really a conscious decision to check it, more habit than anything else. And really, you hadn’t expected it to be anything that bad. You hadn’t heard from him all day. 
But there it was. His name. His name a half a dozen times over the course of your shift. Each text progressively more urgent and pressing than the last.
‘I’m  still coming to pick you up from work.’
Bile rose up in your throat, and you suppressed the overwhelming urge to bolt. The room was suddenly too hot and too crowded, and there were too many faces. Faces you recognized and faces you didn’t. A wash of faces that was the perfect place for him to hide, to wait, to lurk around for the opportune moment to reveal himself.
You couldn’t do this, couldn’t deal with this. Not here. Not now. Not in front of all these people. Not alone. 
You did the first thing that came to mind. 
It was stupid really. You couldn’t explain why it occurred to you, why you acted on it so immediately, why you thought it was a good idea at all. It probably wasn’t; it could just as easily have backfired in your face as anything else. But your gut told you it was what you should do. Really, your gut didn’t so much tell you as wrench you in that direction with an undeniable force. 
“Hey can I talk to you for a sec?” 
Hangman was an easy man to find, even despite the crowd, strutting around the dart boards like he owned the place, which he very nearly did, rubbing the other pilots noses in his shots that were somehow better blindfolded than theirs were with sight.
You interrupted him boasting loudly to Fanboy and Payback about how he didn’t even need to practice. Perfect marksmanship just came naturally to him. The rest of the pilots were all gathered at the high tops near the darts boards, mostly rolling their eyes. They were having some kind of tournament, or rather a competition to see if anyone could take Hangman down. 
Payback seemed almost too happy for the interruption, but Fanboy was a bit more perceptive, at least at the moment. Fanboy’s eyes darted away to Phoenix’s table, and you saw the jerk of his head when he caught her eye. Funneling the female aviator’s attention in the direction of what was unfolding. 
You, wearing Hangman’s shirt since he disappeared for half an hour earlier that day, asking to talk to him alone near the end of your shift. You knew exactly what it looked like. 
“Sure.” Hangman’s tone was completely casual, not giving anything away, but when his back turned on his companions, his eyes were burning. You quickly looked away from his gaze and led him from the group.
“I wasn’t checking my phone.” The words were tumbling out of your mouth the moment he was out of the others’ earshot. You didn’t even bite your tongue long enough to turn around. “He’s been texting me my entire shift. He was supposed to be my ride home tonight, and I think he might show up soon.”
When you faced Hangman, you knew the panic in your voice and in your eyes was painfully obvious. Now that you were semi-alone with him, with someone who knew, there was no hiding how much it jarred you. Your hands fumbled with your phone trying to show him the flood of texts you’d gotten, unnoticed, over the last two hours. 
Hangman didn’t look down even as you turned the phone to show him. His jaw was already clenched; his expression was agitated, visibly angry. His eyes weren’t looking at you or the phone. They were searching the faces in the crowd similar to the way yours had only moments before though far more thorough. The honed, trained eye of a military fighter pilot meticulously picked through the crowd for its target, finding nothing. 
“Could you…” You hesitated to ask. It was such a ridiculous request. Just yesterday, Hangman would’ve been your absolute last choice to be in this position with; you would’ve risked handling it alone before asking for his help. But here he was. The only one who knew. The first one you asked. “I’ll give you a round on the house for it. I just… Would you mind giving me a ride home? I don’t want to stumble on him alone.”
Hangman didn’t hesitate or pull his eyes from where they continuously scanned the crowd, as if his gaze alone was enough to keep a threat at bay. “No beers required, Hurricane.” The words seemed to be coming out of his mouth even as you offered. Like he’d already decided what he was going to do the minute you told him the problem. “Wait here a sec? I’ll handle it.”
Hangman walked the short distance over to the bar, glancing back over his shoulder at you every few steps like he was making sure you hadn’t disappeared, and flagged down Penny. Something on his face must’ve told her it was urgent because she forwent several regulars and big tippers demanding drinks to beeline towards him. He leaned over the bar and whispered something in her ear, gesturing back in your direction. 
Penny looked concerned, and she nodded along with what Hangman was saying until he turned to leave. 
“If Penny asks,” Hangman put a hand on your shoulder, a firm grip holding you to his side as he led you through the throng of people towards the exit, “a guy was bothering you, and I drove you home cause you were scared of him.”
“Not entirely a lie,” You mumbled, shifting closer into Hangman’s side.
No one tried to stop you. No hands reached out for you. No one called out your name. You made it through entirely unscathed. You could feel eyes on you, but they didn’t raise the hairs on the back of your neck. You doubted, highly, that they were Devin’s. More likely, Hangman’s squadron were watching him retreat from the bar with you under his arm without so much as a goodbye. More likely, they were plotting and planning the questions they were going to hound the two of you with the next time they saw you. More likely, Phoenix was pointing out to everyone that you were wearing Hangman’s shirt.
—------
“Does he have a key?” Hangman didn’t break the silence until he’d turned onto your block, until he’d brought his truck to a slow crawl, looking for your tiny, inconsequential cookie cutter house in a row of tiny, inconsequential cookie cutter houses. 
Yours was pretty much the only house without a Navy flag or Navy paraphernalia of some description sitting in the yard or stuck to a car in the driveway. The neighborhood was not far from the Hard Deck which was not far from the base, and the tiny houses geared towards first-time-buyers were crawling with Navy pilots and newlywed military couples who wanted to live offbase.
You were on the second sidestreet, the third house on the left. Hangman already knew the way without instruction. Penny had conned every Top Gun pilot with a car into driving you home at least a couple times. And while Hangman was usually the pilot she was least willing to ask, he was also the only one who was guaranteed to always be sober. 
His question came out very sober. His usual lilting, teasing tone had dropped off somewhere today and never fully returned. 
“He did. He… he told me he lost it, but…” You both knew better than to believe that.
Hangman pulled into your driveway and flicked the truck into park and turned it off. “Tomorrow I’ll drive you to the hardware store, and we’ll change the locks.”
“You don’t have to…”
“Do you feel safe with him having a key?” Hangman cut you off. He was looking down at you with just a touch of condescension, so classically Hangman. Like he knew the answer already, like he knew you knew the answer already, and that you were silly if you pretended not to or refused him. 
You knew where this was going, and you thought about lying, just to relieve Hangman of whatever false sense of duty or obligation he had imposed on himself by being the one to find you at the Hard Deck. But it was way too late. Hangman wasn’t stupid, but he was incredibly, irritatingly stubborn. And he’d already set his mind to helping you through this. “No.”
“Then tomorrow morning I’ll change the locks.” Hangman threw his door open and hopped out of the truck. It slammed closed behind him as he circled around to your side. You made to open your door, but Hangman beat you to it. “Alarm services are expensive,” He continued, offering you a hand, “but they make door jammers that have sound alarms on them at least, and my sister bought some cheap window versions a while back that I could help install.” 
You took Hangman’s hand and dumbly followed him up to your door as he rambled on about extra door locks and doorbell cameras. All options that you could pick up tomorrow for him to put in. 
“That’s too much effort,” You halfheartedly protested as you spun your keys around trying to find the one to your front door. 
There really weren’t that many keys. There were a couple to the Hard Deck, one to the shed where Penny kept beach supplies, and one to Devin’s place that you hadn’t returned. They were all distinct shapes and colors, but you couldn’t seem to focus long enough to find the plain silver key to your own door. Maybe because you knew there was another one, exactly like it, somewhere across town at that moment.   
“Not if it makes you feel safe.” Hangman leaned back against your door frame, his eyes skimming up and down your block as if he was still on alert in the crowded bar, still looking for signs of trouble, signs of him. 
“Would you…” Your words trailed off as you watched his darting eyes. The question came bubbling up before you could stop it, before you even really thought of it. It was less a question and more a response to his vigilance, to the thought that his vigilance might be warranted and necessary. 
“Would I…?” Hangman didn’t let it go. His eyes turned to look at you.
You chewed at your bottom lip, debating if it was worth asking, debating if it was necessary. 
He probably thought it was, if his mannerisms were any indication, if his talk about alarms was any indication, if walking you to your door and watching your back were any indication. 
“Would you come in?”
Hangman raised a doubtful eyebrow, sure you didn’t mean what those words usually meant.
“Not like that, it’s just… You’re right. He probably still has a key, and if we can’t fix it till the morning…”
Understanding seemed to wash over his face, and Hangman kicked himself up off the door jam. “If it’ll help,” he immediately conceded. “I’ll sleep on your couch.”
“It…” You hesitated, but only for a moment. “I think it would.”
The silence inside your home was almost palpable. It was late enough that going to bed wouldn’t have been awkward for either of you, but neither of you were tired. And neither of you seemed up to faking being tired just to get away. 
Hangman sat on one end of the couch, and you sat on the other. At some point, you mustered the effort to turn on the tv. The local news was a quiet, bland drone of background noise cutting through the still air around the two of you.
You felt like you should say something. Maybe ‘should’ wasn’t the right word; maybe you wanted to say something. But either way you didn’t know where to begin.
You had only ever been alone with Hangman when he was dropping you off as a favor to Penny, times that were filled with snarky jokes and constant nagging from both of you, and earlier that day in the bar. You weren’t close. You weren’t friends. You were barely acquaintances. He was only here because he was in the right (or wrong, depending how you looked at it) place at the right time.
“Thank you,” That seemed like a good place to start. “For today, thank you.”
“You have nothing to thank me for.” Hangman countered quickly. His eyes stayed on the tv, though they were clearly out of focus staring at the screen. 
“I do though. You could’ve told everyone.”
“You weren’t ready for that.” He added it under his breath, countering without cutting you off.
“You could’ve left me to finish out my shift.”
“Not with him coming to the bar.”
“You could’ve left after you dropped me off.”
“He has a key.”
“You could’ve turned and walked out the door when you first saw me at the bar.”
Hangman let out a heavy sigh, not of annoyance or exasperation but a sigh weighed down with duty and concern. “No, I couldn’t.” 
Your eyes met his over the center of the couch, and a breath rushed out of your lungs under the intensity in his gaze.
—-------------------------------------
You woke up in your bed, mouth open, with more than a little drool pooling on your pillow. 
You had no memory of falling asleep there, of getting into bed, of going to your room at all. 
You remember being on the couch, talking to Hangman. You remembered the way his eyes, intense, open, and honest, compelled you to speak. The way you couldn’t bite back the story pouring from your lips. The story of Devin asking you out, of falling for him in those early weeks, of how he changed after you committed to him. The story of what he did that night, of his buddies who sat back and did nothing, of the jokes you heard the three of them cracking as you ran from the room.
You remembered Hangman crossing the space between you and putting a hand on your arm, how cautious he was touching you, how much time he left you to pull away, how gentle his touch was against your skin. You remembered throwing yourself into his lap, sobbing into his shoulder as he held you against his chest and rubbed soothingly up and down your back, whispering promises that that asshole would never hurt you again. 
You didn’t remember anything after that. You must’ve fallen asleep in his lap.
Sitting up, you found the answer to your unasked question.
A folded piece of notebook paper sitting on the pillow next to you:
‘Thought the bed would be preferable to sharing the couch with me. If I’m wrong and you wake up in the middle of the night and don’t want to be alone, you can always wake me up. If not, I’ll have coffee ready for you in the morning. - Jake.’
As you read, his words the night before echoed in your head to the beat of a nonexistent drum as you read the note once, then twice, then a third time.
‘No, I couldn’t.’
You carefully folded the paper up and tucked it in the top drawer of your bedside table. 
True to his word, Hangman was wide awake, standing in your kitchen pouring himself a cup of coffee when you walked out of your room. 
“H-Hi,” you stuttered.
Last night, in the comfort of darkness, with exhaustion clouding over your mind and his arms holding you close, it had seemed the most logical thing in the world to open up to Hangman. And with the light of day glinting through the windows, with him dressed in the button up he’d wrapped around you the day before, with him lounging back against your counter as he sipped from your favorite mug, with an overconfident air that was too comfortable for any normal person’s first time in your home… It was odd to think that feeling hadn’t changed, that you still felt able to bare your soul to him, that you didn’t feel a need to run back into your room and get changed or freshen up, that you were perfectly comfortable being seen by him like this, a tired quaking  mess with puffy red eyes.
Part of you expected to walk out into your kitchen to an epiphany that you’d made a horrible mistake, that Hangman was exactly as much of a cocky asshole as you thought he was two days ago. But the epiphany never came.
“Morning,” Hangman took a sip of coffee and set the mug aside. He looked casual, at peace, like this was just another day, like he’d done this a million times. “I’m ready to go whenever you are. I found the toolbox in the bottom of your coat closet. Hope you don’t mind. We’ll probably need a few things if we’re gonna do anything more than replace the locks.”
“Y-Yeah,” You grabbed a mug off the drying rack and crossed the room to pour yourself a cup of coffee from the pot beside him, your shoulder brushing passed his as you poured. “Sounds good.”
“Hey.” Hangman seemed to immediately pick up that something was plaguing your mind. He didn’t reach out for you like last night, quite the opposite. He took a step away and turned to face you, crossin his arms over his chest, “If you want to be alone, I’ll head out. I’ll go to the store, pick up the locks, and change them myself. You can have time to yourself if you need it.” 
“No,” You immediately countered his obvious misinterpretation of your mood. “I-I don’t think I want to be alone. I’m just… antsy I guess.” 
He didn’t seem to fully buy it, but he let your excuse hang. “Okay then, we’ll head out when you’re ready.”
—----------------------
All day, as Hangman worked around your house first changing the locks then installing alarms then fixing a window that wouldn’t lock and then righting a wobbly chair leg that had absolutely nothing to do with your safety, neither of you mentioned the note he left or you crying in his arms or falling asleep on his lap or his quiet ‘No, I couldn’t’.
—--------------------------
You made a vow to yourself when Hangman finally left your house late Saturday afternoon. You were never going to ring up his card at the Hard Deck again. It couldn’t really repay what he’d done for you, the feeling of safety he’d brought to you in what was probably your most vulnerable moment so far on this earth, but you knew he wouldn’t want anything more showy. Hangman loved being the center of attention, but somehow you knew he wouldn’t want attention for this. 
True to your vow, the next Saturday evening, Hangman was on his third beer and had, unwittingly on his part, not paid a dime.
The Hard Deck was far less crowded that night. The graduating Top Gun candidates had all flown away, and only those currently stationed at the base, mostly Maverick’s squad, and some locals remained. A few dozen patrons milled around a room far larger than they needed with maybe a dozen pressed up to the bar. Most of the dozen fell under your responsibilities at the moment. Penny had, unintentionally, abandoned you not long before when Maverick had wandered in and taken up his usual stool. 
Omaha and Halo, the first aviators to arrive, had claimed one of the pool tables early in the night, and the rest of the squad had started rotating through matchups. It appeared Fritz was on a hot streak, one that was no doubt about to end as his next opponent in line was Hangman. 
All seemed right with the world. The constant buzz of voices, the crooning of the Goo Goo Dolls song that Bob had selected on the jukebox, the ready flow of beer to your usual patrons. Everything was fine.
Until the door opened one last time. Not that places of business ever ‘expected’ anyone because they hardly sent out invitations to come buy beer, but you really weren’t expecting anyone else that night. All the regulars were already inside.
The door banging against the wall as it was flung open was enough to draw your surprised eyes up to the entryway. 
Face lit by the sun setting over the beach through the windows on the opposite wall, he was unmistakable as he marched into view flanked by his two buddies. They immediately began scanning the room. 
Your breath rushed out of your lungs, exhaling in a gust that you couldn’t hold back any more than the wind. 
No, no, no. He wasn’t here. He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t confront you here. He couldn’t corner you alone.
There was no time to think, no time to check with Penny if it was ok to leave your station, no time to get to the door or bolt out the back. 
‘I’ll keep him out of the bar.’
It was your first instinct when you saw the text the weekend before, and it was your first instinct when you saw him that night.
“Hurricane?” Penny called after you as, without so much as a word in her direction, you ducked under the gap in the bar and made a beeline for the pool tables. 
You barely heard her, and if you did, it didn’t register. 
“Jake,” his real name leaving your lips was enough to draw most of his coworkers’ attention, all those in earshot at least. You grabbed his arm the second he was within reach, inadvertently clawing his skin with your nails as you pulled him up from where he was hunched over the pool table lining up a shot. 
Jake laughed and shrugged off your arm before he even turned around and saw who it was. “Hey,” he rubbed at the red marks in his skin, “I was just…” 
The words died on his lips when he turned and saw the panic in your eyes. It was brimming up inside you, overflowing and choking you off from every other sensation except the desperation for Jake to understand.
He knew better than anyone that there was only one thing that could make you look like that, feel like that. His head jerked up immediately in the direction of the door, as if he could sense the direction of the impending doom.
You watched the lighthearted smirk that constantly plagued his lips fall away. You watched the light in his eyes cloud over in darkness. As his gaze went up over your shoulder to the door, where one of the three men with angry expressions and dark eyes spotted your back amongst the khaki uniforms and began moving. 
Jake’s arm twisted in your grip and grabbed you by the elbow, jerking you unceremoniously behind his back. There was no time for pleasantries, no time to be nice about whatever he was about to do.
“Fanboy, stay with her.” Jake ordered over his shoulder to the nearest aviator. His gaze didn’t waiver from the three men approaching, even as he issued commands.  
Most of the aviators in Mav’s squad were scattered around the room. Mav was at the bar talking with Penny and Halo. Fanboy and Coyote had been watching Hangman school Fritz, who was being hyped up by Payback. Rooster was at a table not far from the pool game talking to a pretty girl. And Phoenix and Bob were half spectating from their perch by the jukebox discussing something that had gone wrong in a training run that afternoon. 
Fanboy caught you and held you up as Jake pushed you in his direction. “What’s going on?”
Jake didn’t answer. He side-stepped in front of you, half blocking you from view, and walked to the edge of the pool area. There was a buffer zone between himself and you. He was the first line of defense, and he was giving the second, Fanboy, room to react. 
“You fucking bitch!” If Fanboy didn’t know what was going on before, he instantly caught on. 
Fanboy’s arms tensed around yours. His back went rigged, as if a commanding officer had just called him to attention, and he curled away, pulling you back behind him and putting his body in front of you as a shield. Even with Fanboy hovering in the way, his body didn’t hide Devin’s eyes. They sought you out around Jake’s frame and over Fanboy’s shoulder; they found you huddled up behind the Navy uniforms and the fancy stars pinned to the pilots chests. No number of medals pinned to Jake’s chest could stop the chill that ran down your spine in response to the venom in Devin’s tone. You wanted to look away, but the daggers in his gaze skewered you in place, held you hostage. 
You wanted to curl up and hide, preferably behind Jake... Well, preferably in a home far away from there wrapped in heavy blankets with many deadbolts between you and Devin with Jake vigilantly standing guard at the door. 
Devin tried to walk straight past Jake, like he didn’t even see him. Jake wasn’t having any of it. 
A thick, muscular arm stuck out across the length of Devin’s shoulders as he tried to pass, holding him back.
Devin wasn’t a very big guy. He was well toned, but he was no naval aviator. He was no Jake Seresin. Jake had about an inch on Devin, but his well built frame made up for their near identical height. Devin had never been one to hit the gym hard while Jake certainly was, and it showed. It showed in the way a single arm without so much as a brace didn’t move even as Devin walked straight into it. 
If the rest of the bar weren’t looking when Devin shouted that you were a bitch, they certainly were when he glared up at Jake. “Out of the way you fucker!” 
Jake getting out of the way was about the last thing you wanted to happen, and Jake seemed disinclined to oblige either. His arm didn’t move from where it blocked Devin’s path, even as Devin glowered up at him.
The staring match lasted only a moment before Devin, impatient as always, gave up and turned back to glaring at you. He shouted, unnecessarily loudly, across the minimal distance between the two of you, “You changed the locks on me?” 
There was shuffling behind you and the sound of something clanging onto the pool table. 
You couldn’t bring yourself to turn your head away from Devin, couldn’t look away, couldn’t let him out of your sight. But there was the sound of footsteps as first Coyote, then Fritz, then Payback came into range in your peripheral vision. 
None of them knew what this was about, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out where this was going. And any idiot could tell whose side they would be on in a fight between Jake and Devin. 
“She didn’t. I did.” Jake declared at a similarly loud volume, pulling Devin’s attention back on him, demanding Devin shift his focus off of you. “You got a problem with that, you take it up with me.”
Devin took a step back, finally abandoning his futile attempt to confront you in favor of squaring up to Jake. 
As Devin stepped back, the trio of pilots stepped forward. Fritz approached first, joining Fanboy in front of you. Payback followed after Fritz, lingering halfway between him and Jake, a bystander ready to step in if things got out of hand.
Coyote, however, had no questions about how any altercation would go down. His hand came down as he walked up behind Jake, slapping down reassuringly on Jake's shoulder to let him know he wasn’t alone. Coyote flanked Jake at such a close distance that it made it impossibly clear that, if this turned into a fight, it would not be three on one. 
It wouldn’t even be three on two for that matter. Devin’s buddies, who had crossed the bar with him had hung back a few feet, giving Devin the space he wanted to scream at you or confront you or whatever else he had been planning before Jake intercepted. The duo found themselves with two bar tables between them and Devin. One of which was, ever so unfortunately for them, occupied by none other than Bradley Bradshaw and his drinking companion. 
Devin’s friends would be forgiven for not realizing that they were offering up the chance to divide the group in half. Bradley, per usual, wasn’t in his Navy uniform, and a guy in a faded Hawaiian shirt didn’t exactly look intimidating. At least not while he was sitting down chatting up a pretty girl.
Seeing the escalation Coyote invited, and flashing his eyes to where you cowered behind his squadmates, Rooster got to his feet with a slow, lithe push off the table in front of him and turned his back on Devin. Not even bothering to give the belligerent asshole, currently one on two against Hangman and Coyote, the time of day, he turned his entire attention to the backup Devin brought with him. 
Never in your life had you been scared of any of the naval aviators, but there was something especially intimidating about the incredibly casual way Bradley put himself alone in a fight against two men. His relaxed stance, completely unbothered by the numbers game he was playing. His head, cocking to one side to crack his neck, and then the other. 
“You the latest pilot she’s spreading her legs for?” Devin snarled up at Jake, completely oblivious to what was going on behind him and unconcerned by Coyote’s presence. 
Jake was entirely unphased. His voice was calm and steady even as Devin’s got more and more red with each passing moment. “No, but I am a friend. And if you have a problem with her you’re gonna have to go through me…” Jake added as an afterthought, “And him,” jerking his head to Coyote.
“You think she’ll fuck you if you play hero?” Devin spat out the word fuck as if the thought of you and sex in the same sentence disgusted him. “You don’t gotta try that hard to get her to spread.”
Jake shrugged and casually dismissed the comment. “That’s really not my business or yours.” 
“She is my business; that’s my girl.” 
Devin jabbed a finger over Jake’s shoulder in your direction without looking away from Jake, and you instinctively shrunk further back behind Fanboy. Until you felt the material between your fingers, you didn’t even realize that your hand had reached up to fist the back of Fanboy’s uniform. 
You didn’t know, logically, why you were afraid. Whatever Jake was doing, he was doing a marvelous job of keeping Devin’s eyes off of you. You were absolutely certain that Devin would have to knock Jake out to get to you, not that he could even manage that. You were also absolutely certain that even if he did, he’d still have to make it through Rooster, Fanboy, Fritz, Payback, and Coyote, not to mention the dozen Navy guys from other squads currently spectating who would jump in to assist, or Penny or Mav. There was just something about his finger pointing at you, accusing you, that made that feeling of helplessness bubble up inside you again, that made you feel pinned, trapped under his hand.
“I’ll do whatever I want with her.”
It was like Jake knew or could sense your growing bubble of fear. He leaned ever so slightly to one side, like he was simply shifting his weight from foot to foot, before standing back up straight in between Devin’s finger and you.  
“Not anymore.” Jake declared firmly. “You’re already about a mile closer to her than I want you to be.”
That declaration made Devin’s lips twist up into something akin to a smirk. “I’ve been a lot closer to her than this.”
Jake’s shoulders tensed, and for the first time it seemed like Devin got to him. “I know exactly how close you got.” His voice darkened, and you could practically picture the look in his eyes, practically knew it by heart from the night you told him what Devin had done. “Where I’m from, we don’t treat women like that.”
Devin laughed humorously, heading tilting back to let the single tone ring out in the air. “Well we aren’t where you’re from. That’s my girl, and I’ll do what I want with her.”
You shivered involuntarily, like someone had dropped an ice cube down the back of your shirt. It sent a chill through you to think of Devin alone with you, doing what he wanted with you. You remembered what he did the last time he had that power over you. You couldn’t let it happen again.
“No,” It took a moment to register that Jake was the one snarling, not Devin, not even you. The word came out in a hiss between his teeth. “You’ll do what she wants. And right now she doesn’t want you here.” 
For whatever reason, Devin was getting to Jake. The unshakeable, unflappable Jake Seresin was rising to a rolling boil under the surface of his skin, and there was nothing he could do to hide it. From the tone of his voice to the tension in his shoulders, to the way his fingers twitched in and out of a fist, Devin and what he was saying was under Jake’s skin.
Devin saw it; you could tell. You couldn’t see his eyes around the bodies between the two of you, but you saw his posture change, his stance open up and his chest puff out. He leaned in and sneered, “She needed to be put in her place. She looks better roughed up anyway.”
You felt their eyes on you. The squad. The whole bar. None of them were actually looking at you. None of their heads turned, but you knew every one of them was staring at an image of you in their minds. Maybe they all figured it out before. Maybe they knew when Devin walked in or when Jake escorted you home. Or maybe they didn’t know anything at all, but either way Devin just gave them confirmation.
Payback was no longer content to play the bystander. His shoes clicked on the floor, echoing in the silence that existed throughout the bar as Jake and Devin sparred. He flanked Jake’s other side, shoulder to shoulder with him as Coyote had been since the confrontation began. 
Coyote didn’t move an inch except for the hand at his side that clenched into a fist. 
Jake took a step closer. But for the inch of height difference, he stood nose to nose with Devin as he said, “Where I’m from, a man lays his hands on a woman, and you take him out back and put one between his eyes.”
Devin pushed up, must’ve stood on his tiptoes to do it, to close the gap with Jake, to put himself on the same level as the pilot. “She’s mine, you fucker.” Flecks of spit, visible even at your distance, splattered against Jake’s cheek. “Get the fuck out of the way.” 
Devin’s hands came up and shoved Jake in both shoulders, hard.
Jake’s shoulders didn’t give an inch. His feet didn’t budge. His posture didn’t change. 
Jake’s voice dropped low, so low you barely heard it. If a single soul in the bar had been focused on anything other than the confrontation at hand, if the jukebox hadn’t run to the end of its queue of songs and left the bar in silence, if any more distance had been between the two of you, you wouldn’t have heard the rough, guttural retort from somewhere deep inside Jake’s chest, “You’re really, really gonna have to make me.”
Without warning, Devin swung.
He was standing too close to Jake, almost chest to chest with the taller aviator. There was no good angle from which to strike, and his arm took a wide arc away from his body to get the necessary momentum and distance to hit at Jake with any force.
It was like it moved in slow motion, Jake’s head turned, his eyes following the direction of the swing as it approached his face.
You gasped and clung tighter to Fanboy, who blindly reached back to clutch your arm, pulling you in closer to him.
The fear, entirely for Jake, was also entirely unnecessary.
Jake’s head leaned to one side and effortlessly avoided the blow. Devin stumbled a couple steps to the side as his momentum carried him past Jake.
It gave Jake the space he needed to counter, not with a wide, slow hook around to the side of Devin’s face, but with a swift, firm uppercut to his jaw.
The connection sent a crack echoing through the bar, and Devin’s entire body went slack before he even hit the floor.
Coyote caught his arm before he could collapse, not that it did Devin any good to be under Coyote’s care instead of Jake’s. Coyote’s grip was so tight on Devin’s upper arm that you were sure it would bruise not just the skin but the muscles underneath.
Jake bent down over the other man and bent a finger up under his jaw. Devin’s head tipped up into Jake’s face without any protest and fell back to bob loosely to one side the moment Jake wasn’t supporting him any more.
“He’ll be out cold for a while.” Jake declared, glancing up to give Coyote a nod.
Coyote dropped his grip on Devin and let him crumple unceremoniously to the floor.
“Now,” Jake left Coyote to deal with Devin, stepping over the unconscious body on the floor as one might step over a puddle in the street. He ambled over to Rooster, whose presence had been more than enough to hold off Devin’s two buddies for the brief ten seconds of fighting, if it could even be categorized as a fight.
“Are you two,” Jake wagged a finger between Devin’s two friends as he came shoulder to shoulder with Rooster, “the ones she told me helped him out last week? Cause I gotta bone to pick with them too?”
“No, we didn’t!” The shorter of the two declared loudly. “Look, we don’t want any trouble.”
Jake’s head turned to glance back over his shoulder, and for the first time since Devin confronted you, you made eye contact with Jake.
His eyes were hard, cold, unfeeling. He wasn’t angry anymore. He wasn’t upset or worried or fearful or any of the other emotions you felt warring inside of you. The mask was back on, the unflappable exterior that only you had seen beneath before tonight. He wasn’t waiting for them; he was waiting for you. A good soldier, waiting for his orders.
Imperceptibly to everyone but Jake who was watching you like a hawk, you shook your head. This had gone on long enough already tonight. You just wanted it to be over.
“Well then,” Jake turned back to the two friends in tow. “Why don’t you take your buddy and get out of here?” Jake stepped close, towering over the shorter one as he added, “Tell him if he comes back round here to bother her again; I will spend the rest of my life making sure he’s too afraid to even look at another woman.”
Beside Jake, Rooster began casually cracking the knuckles of his fist one by one, presumably for emphasis.
There was a dull thud that drew the quad of men’s attention back towards Devin.
Payback was squatting over the unconscious man. He’d seemingly been rooting through the other man’s pockets. The sound of his wallet dropping back onto Devin’s back was the noise that drew the men’s eyes and everyone else’s watching as a result.
Payback was waving a credit card in the air in Jake’s general direction.
“Good idea,” Jake wandered over and snatched up the card. “Call it payback for disturbing the bar tonight.” Jake’s teasing smirk was back as he used Payback’s callsign. He abandoned the group to amble back towards Penny at the bar, and his absence seemed to break the tension.
The patrons, scattered around, all began slowly turning back to their tables. The conversation was quieter, hushed whispers that were no doubt mostly about the fight they’d just watched ensue, but their eyes seemed to have drank in their fill of the scene.
Under the watchful eye of Rooster, with Coyote and Payback standing by, Devin’s two friends draped their friend unceremoniously across their shoulders. Despite the struggle they were clearly having, not a soul offered to help as they stumbled under his weight out of the bar.
“I hope they have to drag him to the car.”
You jumped and turned your head to find that at some point in the chaos Phoenix and Bob had come up on the other side of the pool table as a last line of defense.
“Please, I hope they faceplant in the gravel.”
You let out a humorous laugh at Phoenix’s comment as your body finally slumped under the weight of the evening, resting back against the pool table with a huff of air.
“Are you…”
“Fritz, if you ask me if I’m okay, I will walk out of this bar right now.” You held up a finger to silence him.
You were not okay. You would be okay, one day; you knew that much. But that day was not today.
In the distance, like you were hearing an echo from the other end of a long tunnel, you registered the bell ringing for a free round. Your vision was tunneling too, but you could make out Jake was leaning across the bar, ringing the bell himself as he slammed Devin’s card on the bar in front of Penny.
Maverick, always present in front of Penny’s bar, slapped him on the back and whispered something in his ear, but Jake seemed, for once, thoroughly uninterested in his commanding officer.
His eyes, you thought, appeared to be focused on you. He left the bar before he even got his own free drink and headed straight back towards the pool tables.
Coyote and Rooster tried to talk to him, but he brushed him off. By the time he reached Fanboy, still awkwardly hovering in front of you, his destination was clear, and Fanboy slid right out of his way.
“Come on,” Jake held out a hand to you. “Penny won’t mind if you don’t finish out your shift.”
It wasn’t a tunnel you were looking through now so much as a camera, the lens zooming in and zooming out, narrowing and expanding your field of vision around Jake.
Jake, the only thing in the world right now that felt safe, that felt ok.
You numbly, clumsily, flung your hand out to grasp his, and as his fingers laced through yours you thought you might have a different answer to Fritz’s question, not that you’d ever voice it.
—————————————
“Thank you.”
It was about an hour after you and Jake had left the bar.
He’d walked you out the back door of the Hard Deck and down the beach for the better part of half an hour before the two of you wordlessly agreed to find a comfortable spot to sit down in the sand.
The silence had been more comfortable than you ever thought silence with Jake could be. Every time he’d driven you home from the Hard Deck, he’d felt the need to fill every available moment with some kind of noise, compulsively turning up the volume on the radio or making snarky, sarcastic commentary about anything that passed by the window. Silence was not Jake Seresin’s forte.
Yet the silence between the two of you had felt like a comforting blanket, wrapping you in understanding. He already knew what happened between you and Devin; the hard part of that explanation was over. He already knew why Devin was there that night, what must have prompted him to show up, what he was hinting at in front of the whole bar. He knew nothing else about you, but he knew this, knew every detail of the most painful moment of your life, and he accepted it without question, gave you what you needed without question, helped you without question.
“You don’t have to thank me for doing the right thing for once in my life, Hurricane.” Jake murmured. “It’s a nice change of pace.”
You wished you could deny that, say that Jake was a great guy, say that he always did the right thing or that he was a good man. But the truth was he often wasn’t. He was flawed, deeply so, rude when it was uncalled for, inappropriate when the moment was serious, lewd when he should have been respectful, confrontational when he should have been kind. He was as flawed as any other human being, maybe more so.
But when you needed him he was there. When no one else was there, he was there. And that, to you, forgave any multitude of sins.
“What did Mav say to you when you left?”
“What?” Jake did a quick double take, looking down at you beside him. “Oh,” He chuckled to himself. “He said, ‘Good man, no push-ups tomorrow when I shoot you down.’”
“Well,” you smiled, “I owe you a lot more than a few push ups.”
“You owe me nothing.”
You squeezed his hand, his fingers which had been laced in yours since he led you out of the Hard Deck, “How about a second chance? If I remember correctly we didn’t get off to the best start.”
Jake smirked, “Not a chance am I starting over. You’re still my Hurricane.”
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mvybanks · 7 months
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Brother’s Best Friend
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request: rooster and you in a secret relationship and hangman is your older brother
a/n: first rooster fic who cheered?!? i hope you guys like this one bc i intend to keep writing for him and hangman and i guess i’m officially in the fandom now👀 let me know what you think! <3
pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Seresin!Reader
warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, 18+, smut, age gap, daddy kink, slight degradation (?), unprotected sex
word count: 2.4k (of pure filth)
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add yourself to my taglist <3
It’s not a secret that your brother’s colleagues flirt with you, jokingly, whenever you’re around. Jake seems to have made his peace with it, as long as he’s aware that no one would ever think to actually do something about it. It’s an unspoken rule: no one touches Hangman’s little sister. No questions asked. No exceptions.
However, what your brother doesn’t know can’t hurt him, right? After all, you tried to keep your distance the second you realized that your attraction runs deep, but Bradley sure as hell isn’t a man who backs down from a fight.
There’s always been a tension between you and him, one that you both attempted to push into the back of your minds, but failed miserably to do so. He knew he was a goner from the moment he laid eyes on you, and although it was wrong, he couldn’t stop thinking about you, in any scenario. He wasn’t going to let it go either until you admitted that you wanted him as much as he wanted you, until you let him take you out on a date and bring you back to his apartment, until you were a writhing mess underneath him, begging oh-so deliciously for him. At that point, how was either of you supposed to put an end to this?
That’s how you find yourself in your current situation. You’re sat on a bar stool, listening to Coyote talking your ear off about God knows what, while your secret boyfriend watches you from afar. Every time your eye catches his gaze still fixed on your figure, a particular glint of hunger swimming behind his dilated pupils, you squirm in your sit, hoping that no one notices the way you press your thighs together. Well, no one except him.
Licking his lips for what seems the umpteenth time, he brings his beer to his mouth, taking a long sip and never taking his eyes off of you in the process. It’s been too damn long since he’s had the chance to rip your clothes off and he doesn’t know how long he’s going to be able to keep himself from devouring you, even if it means doing it in front of all these people, including your brother. Never in a million years would he have thought to be in a relationship not only with his friend’s sister, but with a woman who’s fifteen years younger than him, and yet, here he is, stopping himself from rubbing his growing hard on as he stares at you.
Your hands smooth the bottom of your dress, trying to keep your composure as you send the man beside you a fake smile. It’s not that you don’t want to listen to him, but you’d much rather be in a completely different situation right now.
Finally, you notice Jake leaving the building with a girl under his arm and a smirk on his lips. You all but shake in anticipation when you mutter an apology to Coyote and begin to slowly walk towards the empty chair that’s waiting for you in front of Rooster.
“Lieutenant Bradshaw,” you purr as you take your sit, letting his eyes run up and down your body. It’s obvious that you know what you’re doing when you call him by his rank, smiling proudly at yourself at the clear effect that you’re having on him.
“Sweetheart,” he rasps in response.
You try not to focus on his lips, nor his mustache, and you surely try your hardest not to think about how the last time you were alone with him it was covered in your —
“So,” he interrupts your thoughts, a slight warmth creeping up your cheeks at the memory that your brain has decided to haunt you with, “How have you been?”
You both know that Jake has eyes and ears everywhere, which is why you make it seem like you’re just two friends catching up instead of two people who are too deep in a secret relationship.
Crossing one leg on top of the other, knowingly bringing his attention on the exposed flesh, “I’ve been good,” you reply, “You?”
He straightens up as he feels his pants getting tighter the more he looks at you. “Me, too. Could be better though.”
“And why’s that?”
He clicks his tongue, “I think you know why.” Slipping the unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt off his shoulders, he gives you a good view of his muscular arms, barely covered by the white t-shirt that seems to want to rip every time he moves. You swear your mouth waters at the sight, the only thought in your mind being the remembrance of those same arms wrapped around your neck from behind, choking you in the most panty-dropping way. If he’s not going to do anything, then it’s your turn to lure him to your apartment tonight, for there’s no way that you’re not ending this evening beneath Bradley Bradshaw.
You get up, causing a frown to appear on his features while you step around the table to stand behind him. Bending down, you place your hands on his shoulders, then you let them run down his arms, almost making a groan escape from his throat before you whisper in his ear, “If you want me to make it all better, you should come around mine tonight.” You press your mouth against his neck, smirking as you feel his pulse racing on your lips.
“Y/n —“
“Or I can find someone else to take care of me.” You taunt him, reaching your goal when you see his knuckles turn white around the cold beer in his grip.
“Behave.” He all but growls, succeeding in making you feel dizzy with arousal.
“Make me.” You breathe in his ear, and you’re lucky that he hasn’t bent you over the table and fucked you right here, right now.
“You better be there in ten.”
You hum. “Oh, and one more thing,” you seductively bite his earlobe, “I’m not wearing any underwear.”
With that, you begin to leave, moving your hips for you know he’s watching you with lust filled eyes now. You turn around, catching his gaze before you yell out, “See ya, Lieutenant.”
As you hear the sound of keys rattling, you thank your past self for telling Bradley where you keep your spare keys. You’re casually drinking water in your kitchen and standing in front of the counter when he bursts through the door, looking mad and hot. So goddamn hot, you think.
“Long time no see.” You joke as he shuts the door behind him.
“What the fuck was that?” The low and dangerous tone of his voice only makes you want him more and push his buttons.
“What was what?” You ask innocently.
In the blink of an eye, you find yourself trapped between his body and the kitchen counter behind you. “I think you like driving me crazy too much.”
“Oh no, Lieutenant,” you raise on your tiptoes in order to place your lips next to his ear, “I love it.”
And after a week of no physical contact, Bradley finally decides to grab your neck and claim your mouth with need. You both moan into the kiss as he easily takes control of your body by making you jump on the counter. His hands fly to your bare thighs and make their way under your dress, only to find out that you were telling the truth about the lack of underwear. Groaning against your lips, he pulls you impossibly closer and runs his palms up your waist. Your fingers find their home in his hair, pulling at the blonde strands.
Reluctantly pulling away, he quickly gets rid of your dress, throwing it somewhere across the room before his lips fall on your neck. Open-mouthed kisses are left on your skin as he makes way to your naked chest. His tongue licks your hard nipple once, slowly and torturously, then he wraps his mouth around it. You can only throw your head back and let out heavy breaths at the feeling of his experienced tongue. He doesn’t stop his attack on your breasts, even when you begin to whine and thrash in his hold.
“Fuck — I love these tits,” he mumbles before softly biting down on your nipple.
“Bradley, please.” You whimper. You can feel your arousal dripping on the surface below you and you only want him to do something — anything.
“You can beg better than that, sweetheart.” He smirks.
He kisses his way up your neck again, making you cry his name again, but it’s not enough. “Please, do something, please…daddy.”
“That’s my girl.” He growls.
In one swift motion, he throws your legs over his shoulders and pulls your wet pussy so close to his face that you can feel his breath fanning out as he asks, “What do you want daddy to do, sweetheart?”
Grabbing his hair, “Make me cum, please.” You plead.
How could he ever deny such a sweet request? His tongue delves between your folds, licking up a long stripe as you let out the most pornographic moan he’s ever heard. He starts to eat you out as if it were the last thing he’ll ever do and, by the way you mewl and whine for daddy, it might actually be, because you’re going to kill him. His mustache tickles your clit as he teases your puckered hole with the tip of his tongue. When his lips close around the swollen and slicked bundle of nerves, you instinctively push his head deeper, resulting in him moaning against you and gripping your thighs tightly. The vibrations are too much and you let out a cry of daddy that causes another throaty sound to come out of the man between your legs.
“Want your cock, daddy,” you manage to say between whines, “Please, I need your cock.”
He raises his head from between your thighs to look up at you, one hand still holding his hair and the other playing with your own breast, and if the sight alone didn’t make him cum in his pants like a teenager, nothing ever will.
“You want daddy’s cock, mh? Don’t you wanna cum all over my face?”
You shake your head, “No, I need you.”
Without even giving you the chance of understanding what is going on, he manhandles you until you’re bent over the counter and your ass is pressed against his covered member. He quickly takes his shirt off and sneaks an arm around your stomach, making you feel his muscled torso on your back. Your hand flies back to his head, holding his neck while you wiggle your backside, waiting for him to give you what you’re both craving so desperately.
With his free hand, he unbuckles his belt, the sound almost making you moan, and lets his pants and underwear fall on the ground as he talks lewd in your ear. “You want daddy to make you feel good, sweetheart? You couldn’t wait to cum on daddy’s cock, huh? Such a greedy little girl.”
As his cock catches with the tight ring of muscles, you throw your head on his shoulder, your eyes rolling back as he slowly bottoms out inside your seeping hole. You breathe in each other’s mouth, completely open while you enjoy the feeling of his cock resting inside the tight and warm walls of your pussy. His hands grab your breasts before he begins to thrust inside you, setting a slow and hard pace.
“‘S this what you wanted? Daddy deep inside you?” He grunts in your ear.
“So deep.” You moan and he chuckles at your fucked out expression.
God, he loves having you like this.
“You can take it, sweetheart. You’ve done it before.”
One of his hands sneaks up your neck, choking you just the way he knows you desire, and the other goes down to your pussy until the pads of his fingers find your clit, rubbing it quickly. The pace of his hips accelerates, the sound of skin slapping fills the room, along your babbling of daddy’s that only make him fuck you harder.
“Aw, are you cock-drunk f’me? Are you gonna cum all over me, baby? Gonna drench daddy’s cock, aren’t you?” He groans as he feels your walls contracting around him. “Are you gonna be a good girl f’me?” He pats your clit harshly and you gasp.
“Yes, daddy,” you mumble, “Wanna be your good girl.”
“Then, cum.” He orders.
And Bradley has always known your body better than you do because as soon as those words leave his lips, your pussy begins to spasm around his member, tightly gripping it while you come undone in his arms and with his name on your tongue. If it weren’t for his strong hold, you would’ve been in a puddle on the floor by now, but instead, he’s still sloppily thrusting in and out of your stretched hole, riding out your high.
“Daddy…” You whine breathlessly as you pull his head down by his neck.
“What d’you want, baby?”
“Want your cum.” You whimper, pushing down on his still hard member. “Please.”
He groans, picking up his pace once again, “Gonna be the death of me.”
His lips catch yours in a mind blowing kiss, moaning and grunting in your mouth as he releases inside of you, filling you up and making you gasp. Your muscles are sore and you’re sweating, however, you wish to stay like this until your legs give out. Bradley’s hands stroke your skin, humming against your neck as he peppers kisses on the delicate skin.
“I don’t think I’m ever gonna be able to take my hands off of you.” He murmurs and a sudden warmth licks down your spine at his words.
“And I don’t want you to.”
Grinning, he adds next, “Good, ‘cause I’m not done with you.”
After spending the rest of the night underneath the sheets of your bed, now smelling like your boyfriend, you rest your back on the comfortable mattress as he hovers above you. You smile up at him, making his heart skip a beat, and force him down for a kiss. As you wrap your legs around his waist and feel his hands grope your thighs, the sound of keys jangling catches both his and your attention.
“Yo, Y/n,” your brother calls from the entrance of your apartment, “Are you home?”
You and Bradley look at each other like two deers in headlights.
Shit.
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sehnsuchts-trunken · 6 months
Text
Great Balls Of Fire
Bradley Bradshaw x fem!reader 9k words (ik. i did it again. im sorry)
summary: It’s been four months since you last saw Bradley Bradshaw. Today's the day he finally comes back from his mission and you have more than one ace up your sleeve to surprise him with.
a/n: smut ahead. 18+ im serious theres smut theres a lot of smut. okay. as usual i will now list everything you may have to look out for
fancy ass lingerie, oral sex fem!receiving, unprotected sex (dont be like them, just know theyre in a committed relationship theyve had the talk and all), a lot of begging, hair pulling, good girl's because yes, in general again bradley is a talker, otherwise that's it
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It had been so long. It had been too long.
With the sun beating down hard on the pavement of the parking lot, the sunglasses on your nose doing their hardest to protect your eyes from the worst of the light, the sound of your heels clicking against solid ground as you took a few steps into the shade of the tree next to Bradley's Bronco. You had been waiting for ten minutes now, checking your phone what seemed like every five seconds, too nervous to actually pay attention to it but too nervous to keep calm either.
You had been so scared you would crash into a grandma on the way over here that you had honestly considered taking your own car instead of the Bronco - but Bradley had trusted you with it, had trusted you to keep his lady running, you, even though he never let anyone else as much as touch the steering wheel, and you would be damned if you didn't pick him up in it.
You hadn't seen him in four months. Four months.
You had been by yourself, had been on your own, had been lonely for four fucking months.
But today was the day you would see him again. Today was the day his oh-so-secret mission would finally, truly come to an end, the day that you would finally, truly see him again. Not over some low-quality video call in the middle of the night, with only your kitchen lights on in the background and your mind hazy and tired because he was nine hours ahead of you and seemed to be at the other end of the world - no, today you would finally, finally, finally see him in the flesh.
You'd been anticipating this moment for the past four months.
So this had to be perfect.
This would be perfect.
You had done everything possible to make this the most perfect day of his goddamn life. You had spent the last four months moving things from the old apartment to the new house - those things that you and him hadn't already moved anyway - and the past week, you'd been cleaning, decorating, anticipating.
He had told you so often how much he missed you. How much he wished he had been there for you, to help you pack the things, to help you take them apart and put them back together, to do more than just the paperwork and set up the bed and the couch.
But he couldn't. And now you were bubbling with nervous excitement, with the joy of sharing all of it with him, to show him the desk you'd put up in the bedroom, the pillows you'd bought for the couch, the paintings you'd hung up on the walls, the kitchen table you'd replaced, the kitchen tiles you'd painted. To show him how much better this new home was than the old apartment had been (even though you'd been very happy there for the past four years as well).
And Bradley would love it. You were sure of that.
You just wanted him to see it so desperately.
You looked up as another car approached - it wasn't Bradley, you knew that, Bradley would come out of that door opposite you, not out of a car, but... There was still some tiny little sliver of hope, the same way there had been every single goddamn time someone had rung your doorbell. It had only ever been the postman or your food.
The car stopped next to you. You watched the engine being turned off and the driver get out because, well, what else was there to do except nervously shift your weight from one leg onto the other and go insane?
So you watched the stranger hop out of their car, nodded politely at them and then refocused your attention on the tips of your sandals. At least you weren't the only one waiting here anymore.
You got out your phone again, checked the time (it'd been a minute and a half since you'd last looked at it) and let out a sigh.
It wasn't that Bradley was late. There wasn't really a "late" anyway, he'd only been able to give you a vague time he'd arrive on, but still. You'd been buzzing with nervous energy for over a week.
You took a deep breath to steady yourself, wiped your sweaty palms off on the sundress you'd put on - the tiny yellow sundress that Bradley had picked out for you on your birthday last year. The tiny yellow sundress that hid the sinful white lingerie under it just perfectly. The sinful white lingerie that you had bought for this very moment.
Bradley would go feral for it, you knew that. He loved white. You thought it was because it looked innocent, chaste. Like something untainted, something waiting to be ruined. Not that you minded. One day, he had promised himself, he would admit to you that it was because it looked like something you would wear on your wedding night.
But either way, you had gone shopping for the perfect set of lingerie and you were more than happy with your final choice.
Bradley could unwrap you like a present. You were desperately hoping he would unwrap you like a present.
You had spent the last four months not doing anything other than hoping. Imagining. Remembering.
So you weren't surprised that you felt like you'd soaked through those pretty (and expensive) panties already.
Your breath hitched. You shifted your weight again.
Bradley would carry you in his big, strong arms over the doorstep, would push you against the wall, would take everything he wanted from you and give everything you needed - he'd pull your dress right off and, at the sight of your lingerie, would fuck you raw.
You had to bite down on your lip to keep you grounded. Four months away had been a long, long time. Four months in which you'd only had yourself, your fingers, your vibrator to keep you company - four months in which you'd only heard Bradley's moans spill over the phone, had only heard him call you honey and good girl through a low-quality mic, had only seen him on pictures he'd left you, on a tiny screen at best.
You were depraved. And pretty sure you'd fall apart at the first touch.
You were so immersed in your thoughts, in that lovely imagery you had created in your head, that you almost missed the door opening. Finally. Finally. You straightened up at once.
It wasn't Bradley who stepped out first - it was one of his colleagues, you guessed, with blonde hair and much shorter - but it was Bradley who stepped out second. You'd know him from miles away.
He strode out of the door and into the sunlight, all familiar brown curls and broad shoulders and Ray-Bans on his nose and an Hawaiian shirt on and his bag lazily slung over his shoulder and that moustache - by god you'd have killed him if he'd shaved that off!
He turned his head and looked at you and a grin broke out on your lips, so wide, so incredibly wide that it felt like it'd split your face in half and before you could think, before you could form any coherent thought you were already moving, your legs with a mind of their own. You were sprinting towards him. Sprinting all through the parking lot, your heels click-clicking on the pavement, and Bradley grinned, grinned and let his bag fall to the ground carelessly, opened his arms instead. Wide, so wide. He was so tall. So broad. So inviting as you ran at him, as you jumped at him, as you wrapped your arms and your legs around him at the same time, as he caught you effortlessly, as your lips landed on his.
As you crashed into him, completely, and he didn't even stagger an inch back.
You had missed four months of this.
And now his lips were on yours. Your legs around his waist. Your arms crossed behind his neck. His breath against your mouth. His lips parted. His tongue against yours.
You were desperate. And you could feel just how desperate he was, too.
You could feel all the passion, all the fiery, red passion, all the force and firmness put into this kiss as his tongue ran along yours, as your breaths met and mingled, as his hands dug into your thighs to keep you upright, to keep you snug to him.
You pulled back incredibly reluctantly. You didn't want to let go of him. You never wanted to let go of him ever again. You wanted to have him, all of him, right here, right now, and then for eternity. But you couldn't, you couldn't because this was the middle of the parking lot, and also because you at least wanted to say hello first.
So you blinked open your eyes and took him in and allowed yourself to grin as broad and as wide as you needed to right now.
"You're back", you whispered, just because that realisation still had to sink in. "You're really back."
Bradley nuzzled your nose with his and let out a hum - god, how you'd missed him. The feel of him, the sound of him.
"Yeah, I'm here, honey", he muttered, that smile of his dripping down onto his voice. "I'm here and I won't leave any time soon."
You couldn't help but lean in again, couldn't help but capture his lips again because how else, how on earth would you let him feel all the joy you were experiencing right now? You didn't even know if you could actually feel all of it. You definitely wouldn't be able to put it into words. So you dug your teeth into his bottom lip and sighed into him and pulled him closer, closer and closer, even further into you.
"I missed you", you breathed against his mouth. "I love you and I missed you, Bradley."
He chuckled, kissed you again, drew back just enough to still touch you somehow, to still have his lips on your skin somehow and be able to talk at the same time.
"I love you so much, honey", he muttered. "And I missed you so much."
And then his lips were on yours again, his fingers digging even harder into your thighs, his breath and his tongue and his moustache scratching against your skin and you moaned, because there was no more anything you could possibly have done, because you couldn't help yourself, because you couldn't stop yourself, because you didn't want to either. You wanted to let him know just how goddamn fucking much you'd missed him.
Bradley had to bite back a laugh, pulled back and looked at you through his sunglasses.
"Sounds like we should get home, honey", he said, his eyebrows raised and his smile deepening with every word. "Been waiting for that for four months."
You let out another soft moan, pushed yourself even closer to him, dug one hand into the back of his hair and scratched the other down his shoulders, down his shirt. You wanted to feel him. All of him. God, the ride home would take ten minutes. Ten minutes. How were you supposed to survive that?
"Please", you whispered onto his lips, and you didn't think you had ever meant it as much as you did now.
Bradley groaned and kissed you again, quickly, heatedly, his tongue running along your bottom lip and then pulling back again. This wasn't enough. This wasn't enough.
He set you down on the pavement again softly, your legs a bit wobbly, unsteady, and trailed one hand from your thigh to your back - anything to keep touching you as he bent down to pick up his bag again. You smiled up at him, smoothed down the front of your dress and beamed as his eyes traveled down your body.
When they snapped back up to catch your gaze, the grin on his face had turned into a much more intense expression.
"You look gorgeous, honey", he muttered, tugging you further into his side, letting his eyes drop down to your chest again. You had to bite down on your lip to keep from jumping at him right this second. He should not have been allowed to just look at you if you couldn't have him touch you too. "Did you pick out new nail polish just for this dress?"
Your grin broadened. Of course he'd notice. Bradley Bradshaw was the only man in the whole universe who would notice. And he was yours.
"Yes, I did", you smiled, looking up at him as he walked with you back to the car. He hummed softly.
"It works great together", he said. Your breath hitched. He was gorgeous and he was here and he had noticed your nail polish. He was perfect. And you wanted him to fuck your brains out. "Reminds me of your burgundy silk dress."
You had to bite down on your lip again - god, you hadn't done that nearly as often when he'd been away! - to keep yourself grounded and to keep your grin in check before it could truly split your face in half.
Your burgundy silk dress was the one you'd worn to Penny and Mav's wedding two years ago that you had spent three weeks hunting down matching lipstick and matching nail polish for. Bradley had worn that lipstick on the base of his cock for most of the night.
"You're incredible, do you know that?", you asked, your voice a bit breathy. Bradley stopped in front of the Bronco, turned to you and pulled you close again. You brought your hands up to his chest.
"I've been told", he muttered, tilted his head down to look at you and then leaned down even further to brush a kiss to your nose. "Open up the Bronco so I can put my bag in the trunk?"
You let your eyes flutter close for just a tiny little moment (he was close, so close and you would literally die if he didn't start touching you any time soon) and breathed in as Bradley chuckled. You'd put the key in your pocket and were scrambling to get it out now, taking one, two seconds too long before you heard the familiar click of the car unlocking.
"Thanks, pretty girl", Bradley mumbled, letting go of you to pull open the trunk and you had to push down a sigh of disappointment, even as anticipation rose up in your stomach. You hadn't heard him call you pretty girl in months.
When he turned back around to you, you were still frozen in spot, still smiling dumbly at him, still waiting for him to touch you, to kiss you, to fuck you. He smiled back and you knew that he knew just what you were thinking. But you couldn't even begin to care. You wanted to get him home as quickly as possible.
"You need to stop looking at me like that, honey", he said, his voice an octave deeper and you just so managed not to let another dumb, pathetic moan slip. He closed the trunk and took a step back to you. "You know I can't help myself when you look at me like that."
At that, you did let the moan tumble from your lips after all.
He'd been away for four months. And he was looking at you with his eyes all dark and his jaw clenched and his chest rising and falling heavily. How on earth were you supposed to be normal about this? You were falling apart already and he hadn't even got you home. Four months had been a long, long time.
His hands were on your waist then, forcing you against the side of the bronco, the door handle digging into your back, the metal warmed up by the sun and your arms crossing behind his neck as his body crowded yours, one leg between yours and no more space to touch, to feel, to see anything that wasn't him - he turned his head to check if the other car had driven away and then his lips were on yours, his knee pressing against your centre.
"Bradley", you moaned into his mouth, before his tongue brushed yours and rendered you speechless. You rocked against his knee, bare skin against your thighs and you wanted to sob, you really actually wanted to sob, because this was the most contact you'd gotten in four fucking months.
Bradley pulled back an inch.
"You're soaked", he groaned against your lips, his breath on your skin, his hands on your waist and you thrust your head back against the car, against the window, squeezed your eyes shut, kept on rocking against his knee.
"I know", you whined. "Been soaked for months."
Bradley let out another groan and pulled back, pulled away from you and you whimpered, blinking your eyes open again because you'd been so close to finally getting what you wanted and now he was taking that right away from you again. You looked up at him and the only reason you didn't straight up voice your disappointment was that he looked just as debauched as you felt - running his hands through his hair, running them over his face, his curls all messed up and a considerable bulge already visible in his jeans.
"Get in the car", he rasped, taking another step back from you as though he had to physically put distance between the two of you so he wouldn't give in and take you right in this parking lot. Not that you would've minded. That other car was long gone. But that he had to restrain himself so much, that he looked so positively exhausted, that his voice was so hard and so rough and so raw, that he had already, so easily begun giving you orders drove you crazy. Orders that you knew you had to follow because this was him, this was Bradley, and if he wanted something from you.... he'd get it. You'd give it to him no matter what. You'd give him everything.
So you pushed yourself off the car with a hard breath and trailed around to the passenger side, keeping your eyes on the ground even as you heard Bradley shuffle and open the driver's door because you knew that if you looked at him, no matter how much you wanted to follow his commands, there was a high chance you wouldn't be able to help yourself.
It wouldn't be the first time.
The seat felt hot and your skin sticked to it immediately and you would have cared in any other situation, but not in this one. Not when Bradley put his hand to your thigh, to your bare skin, to just below the hem of your dress. You could have cried.
He was here, finally, and he was touching you, finally, but he wasn't touching you enough, not nearly enough. This would be a long ten minutes. You pushed your sunglasses up into your hair, turned your head and rested it against the head rest, smiling at the image before you - Bradley in the driver's seat of his Bronco, the steering wheel in one hand, the sun on his face, his curls longer than when you'd last seen them. Had he got more tan? Was that possible?
God, how you'd missed this man.
And he was here now, here, next to you, with one hand on your thigh and a grin playing on his lips and you couldn't help but smile. Big and broad and all-consuming because he was here again, this man that you called yours, he was right here next to you after four months. You loved him. You'd missed him so incredibly much.
His hand moved a little higher up on your thigh, his thumbs brushing, stroking over exposed skin, raising up your dress the slightest bit. Your breath hitched.
"Bradley-", you sighed, jaw clenching as you melted, melted at every little touch because you didn't have to only remember it anymore. You could just push up into him, watch him, breathe in his familiar scent, run your fingers along his arm. This was no more imagining, no more picturing, this was real, this was happening.
"God, I missed you saying my name like that", he groaned, tightening his grip on your thigh and you bit down on your lip, wrapped your fingers around his biceps, his wrist, forced yourself to keep your eyes open so you could keep watching him. You wouldn't miss out on a single second of watching him.
"Bradley", you repeated softly. "I'll say your name as often as you want me to."
His fingers dug even harder into your thigh as he let out some strangled sounding moan.
"You're gonna be the death of me", he muttered - how often you'd thought the same about him! "I'm lucky if I can hold out these ten minutes."
You watched him quietly for a second. You could sense the heat radiating off of him, could see his clenched jaw, could feel his deathgrip on your thigh, could hardly ignore the blazing arousal in your own veins. But if he'd wanted to fuck you in the back of his Bronco, he would've. (As picky as he was about who drove his car, he'd never had a single problem railing you into oblivion in the backseat.) There was a reason he was holding out. You could only guess that he wanted to do this properly - with time and room and no risk of getting caught by the authorities. Should you have minded? Should you have begged him to take you as quickly as possible? You were sure he would have, if you'd pleaded prettily enough. But you were quite alright with time and room and no risk of getting caught. At least for right now. The both of you would manage a ten minute ride, right? You had managed four months. Ten minutes were nothing in comparison.
"Okay", you said, trailed your fingers down to his and intertwined your hands. "I'll help. I'll tell you something. Distract you."
"You can try, honey", he chuckled, sneaked a quick sideways glance at you. "Tell me about the house."
You lit up at that. You had been dying to tell him about the house. So you pushed your arousal deep, deep down (which was easier said than done) and smiled up at him.
"I don't even know where to start", you said honestly, giving yourself a second to think about it. You had ten minutes, after all. And you had to fill them all if you wanted both of you to survive this drive.
So you told him about everything.
The short version, of course.
He'd heard some of it over the phone already, but he hadn't been able to call often and you'd spent most of your time crying and telling him how much you loved and missed him when he had answered, so...
The ten minutes went by more easily this way. You went on and on and on and on about the house, his fingers between yours, your eyes locked on his, with the occasional comment about how sorry he was that he hadn't been there to help. It had been unfortunate, of course, but at the same time it had given you something to put all your time and effort into, which had greatly helped you through his deployment. Plus, there had always been help when you had needed it - Penny and Amelia and Mav, Phoenix and Bob and Jake. The rest of the squad had been scattered, called off to their own missions, but those six you had been able to count on whenever.
Bradley's hand on your thigh was still highly distracting. He moved it up and down a few times, and each time your breath hitched, each time you stumbled over your own words, each time he grinned again.
At one point, his fingertips brushed so close to your underwear that you pushed his hand forcefully back down to your knee. He had been the one so worried he wouldn't manage a ten minute ride and now he was the one teasing you.
Not that you really minded.
But you truly felt like going insane.
Then, finally! you caught sight of your driveway. Bradley was out of the car the second he'd parked it, pulling his hand from your thigh and the key out of the ignition and you had barely unbuckled yourself when he was already opening your door, taking your hand and tugging you out, sending you stumbling into him, into his arms.
He pressed his lips to yours as he pushed the door close, pushed you up against it again, pushed the hem of your dress up to grasp at your bare thigh. You wrapped your arms around his neck, forced him even closer.
"Bradley", you gasped softly. You hadn't moaned his name like that in four months, you'd do it so often today he would get tired of it. Even though you knew that he wouldn't, of course - he would never get tired of you whispering his name into his mouth, into the nothingness of an empty room, into his ear, into the pillows.
He didn't pull back from you, even as he took a slow, careful step away - making sure you'd catch on, making sure you'd follow, making sure to keep you safely, steadily against him. Not that you'd have done anything else. You trusted him with your life, you would trust him to keep you upright. So you did just what he wanted, followed, stumbled with him, eyes closed, lips on his, fingers brushing along his shoulders.
He did pull back then - just an inch or two, to turn you around, to look over your shoulder once, to tear his hand from your thigh and wrap his arms around you instead. And then his lips were back on yours again and his tongue running along yours. He pushed and you followed his wordless command, your legs working quicker than your mind, stumbling, tripping backwards, backwards, backwards and you barely cared, barely even acknowledged the ground beneath your feet because you were wrapped up in his arms, because you were tugging at his curls, because he was here, kissing you, finally.
You weren't needy.
You were desperate. You were depraved, frantic, starved. He was the air you needed to breathe and you hadn't taken a single breath in the past four months.
So you weren't pretending in the way you pulled him close, closer, closer, or in the frenzied way you kissed him, or in the desperate way you sighed, groaned, moaned against him, into him. You needed him. You needed more of him. All of him. You needed to get inside so you could have him.
You bumped into the door then, just short of digging the doorknob into your spine - Bradley pushed you right up against it and you gasped into his mouth, into the kiss. He crowded you against the door much like he'd crowded you against the Bronco, pulling his arms from around you to grasp your waist instead, to press your hips up to the door as well, and used one hand to fumble for the keyhole. He did so blindly, with his eyes still closed, his lips still on yours, with one of your legs coming up to wrap around his hips, your heels digging into his shorts.
Needless to say, he needed quite some time to turn the key.
You didn't mind. Not in the slightest.
You were making out with Bradley Bradshaw right on the doorstep of the house you shared with him, in the bright afternoon sunlight and truly, you couldn't have minded less. You didn't give two fucks about any of your neighbours or any passerbys spotting you - should they, by god! Bradley had come home from deployment after four months, you would make out with him on your doorstep for as long as you wanted to. You wouldn't ever stop making out with him ever again.
Not when he was here again, in your arms, with your fingers tugging at his hair, brushing along his neck, stroking along the collar of his shirt, sweeping along his shoulders. Not with your leg around his hips. Not with your lips on his. Not with anticipation, with arousal in every fibre of your body, of your soul. You were going mad with it. You were getting drunk on it.
You were euphoric when Bradley finally opened the gods damned front door.
He kept you safe and steady even as the support at your back broke away, as you almost crashed onto the floor of your own hallway. He walked you back into the pleasant cold and for once, for the first and probably the only time, you were the one to break away. You gave yourself a second to catch your breath. Then you pushed off of him completely. You took a step away, pulled the key from the door, pushed it close and when you turned back around, Bradley had set his sunglasses down on the little table you had put next to the coat rack a few weeks ago.
And you looked him in the eyes for the first time in four months.
He motioned at the table.
"Looks great, honey", he said, his voice a little too rough to sound quite normal. "Nice touch."
You shook your head softly.
"I couldn't care less about the table right now", you muttered, and with that, you were on him again. Actually, truly, fully on him again. You pushed yourself right up onto him, into him, pried his shirt off his shoulders, off his arms, let it drop down to the ground and then reached for his jaw to drag him further down, to deepen the kiss even if you knew that was impossible. So you bit down on his lip and allowed him to finally push your dress up over your hips, over your chest, over your head - you had to let go of him for a moment then, had to pull away from him so he could drop your dress on the floor and before you could even come close to reaching out for him again, he was taking a step back.
You could feel his eyes raking down your body. You could feel him taking in the white lingerie on your skin - the strings of the thong high up on your hips, intricate lace around your waist, the small bow right in the centre of it, the bra cups almost transparent, the floral white pattern covering up your nipples, the other few, small bows sown onto the straps.
You sucked in a breath at the look on his face. You hadn't seen that look in far too long.
"God, honey", Bradley groaned, reached for your waist, brushed his thumbs along the lace, ran his fingertips along the lingerie. You bit down on your lip as he pulled you, slowly, carefully, into him - gave you enough time to rest your hands on his chest, your palms against his tank top. "You look sinful. Did you buy that just for me?"
You nodded, swallowed.
"Just for you", you admitted. "Wanted to surprise you."
Bradley tugged you another inch closer, so close that your chest bumped into his, your breasts pressing against him. He let out a hum, his eyes dropping down to your cleavage.
"You did that, pretty girl", he muttered, his fingers digging into your sides. "You're incredible."
Then his lips were on yours again and you were melting, becoming putty in his hands, turning to goo in his arms. Your breaths met, lips parted. You couldn't quite believe you were finally touching him again.
He walked you back to the bedroom, narrowly avoiding the doorway, his hands on your hips, his fingers digging into your bum. You reached for the hem of his shirt, forced him to stop right on the threshold so you could get rid of it - get rid of that one layer of fabric still in the way. You drew back for a second to pull it over his head, to drop it to the floor, to let your eyes travel all over his bare torso.
God, how you'd missed this man and his broad shoulders and his washboard abs. How you'd missed his touch and the sound of his voice.
"Bradley", you gasped softly, your fingertips trailing over his naked skin, down to his shorts. "I need you."
He let out a groan.
"I've waited four months for you to say that again", he muttered. You could hardly take another breath before he was on you again - lips on yours and hands on your hips and your back hit the bed a moment later, the cushy mattress, the fluffy pillows softening your fall.
You raised yourself up onto your elbows so you could watch him as he stood in front of your bed, the sunlight dripping down him like drops of water hitting the floorboards, his torso bare, his curls messed up, looking down at you with a heaving chest, his fingers on his belt, unhooking it, opening the button on his jeans, pulling down his zipper - you swallowed hard as you watched him drop his shorts on the floor, step out of his shoes.
A whine rolled off your tongue.
"Bradley, hurry up", you whimpered, your fingers cramping in the sheets, your legs pressing together all of their own accord, trying to get some kind of friction as he undressed himself in slow motion while you just lay there, your panties long soaked through and your fingers itching to trail down your own body.
Bradley chuckled.
"Don't worry, honey", he muttered, kneeling down on the ground to drop kisses to your calves before pulling off your sandals. "I'll make sure you forget about the past four months, alright?"
Your breath hitched as your heels hit the ground.
"Please", you begged softly. "I've missed you so much."
He wrapped his hands around your hips, pulled you to the edge of the bed - his breath ghosting over your underwear, over that tiny white piece of lingerie you had bought for him, for him to take you apart in. His fingers dug into your skin, spread out wide, to touch as much of you as he possibly could. He pressed a kiss right to that wet spot on your thong.
You let out a moan. God, how had you survived four months without him? You were barely surviving fifteen minutes of not having him fuck you.
Bradley grinned, raised his head to meet your eyes and seriously, you were close. Too close. He hadn't touched you yet, not really. You'd die today, you were sure, die and go to heaven.
"You look almost too good to undress, honey", he muttered, brushing his thumbs below that lace around your waist, not making a move to pull it down your legs.
"Bradley, please", you whined, your hands brushing over your own chest, running over your bra cups, tracing the flowers, desperately holding back from just ripping everything off yourself, pushing him onto his knees and riding him into oblivion. "Don't tease. I need you."
He groaned into the skin of your thigh.
"Anything you want, honey", he muttered - and then your thong was gone and he was burying his tongue inside you, dipping, tracing, licking, circling your clit, breathing you in, devouring you. Taking and giving everything. It had been four months since he'd had you like this and he wanted everything, every inch of you he could get. He wanted to taste you, every last drop of you, wanted to eat you out until you couldn't think anymore, until you had truly, fully forgotten all the time he had been away, all the time you had been forced to be on your own, alone.
You thrashed, moaned above him - your fingers clenching around your bra, brushing over your nipples. You were close. Close after the entirety of three seconds, close to tears, close to coming.
"Bradley", you choked out, tearing your hands off yourself, burying them in his hair instead - tugging him off, tugging him away from you. You took a deep breath as he let go of you, as he loosened his grip on you, looked up at you with desperation in his eyes.
"I need you to fuck me", you whimpered, already too sensitive, too tense. "I need you inside me."
You hadn't had him in four months.
Four months had been enough goddamn foreplay. As much as you loved when he ate you out, you needed him, you needed his cock, you needed to feel him inside you, you needed him to take you apart and make up for all the time lost.
Bradley nodded, nodded because he knew, he understood - he saw the frantic look in your eyes, had felt the desperate drag of your hands at his clothes, his arms, his shoulders, his hair. He'd give anything to you. Everything. He would do whatever you wanted of him.
Maybe in another situation he'd have made you beg more, would have teased you more, would have edged you a few times. Maybe in another situation. But not in this one. Not after four months of being away from you, not when you were so beautifully, so desperately spread out beneath him, looking up at him with wide eyes and rosy cheeks, your lip pulled between your teeth, your gorgeous white lingerie still concealing too much of your skin.
As he'd said, you were almost too gorgeous to undress. But just almost.
So he rose up from the ground, pulled you up with him, pulled you in, his fingers brushing along your sides, your spine, your bra clasp. He let it fall open. You worked fast, worked your bra down your arms and off your hands and drew back from him to fling it against the wall and lay down on the bed, lay down all pretty and waiting.
You needed him to fuck you. Now.
He let out a groan, closed his eyes. The look on his face had you pressing your legs together again. Wetness was coating the inside of your thighs now. It glistened on his moustache. And you were sure you could have tasted it on his tongue too.
He was making you go insane.
"How do you want me, pretty girl?", he asked, pressing his knees into the side of the mattress. "Tell me how and I'll do whatever you want."
Your breath hitched in your throat. Your nerves were bubbling up. Four months. You'd waited four months for this one question.
"Behind", you whined. "Need you from behind."
Bradley had known, of course, because that was what you always said when he stood at the front of your bed and asked you this question. His hands were on your waist, grasping, grabbing, turning you over before you had fully finished speaking, your cheek pressed against the pillows, your breath coming short and shorter, adrenaline pumping through every single one of your veins. You felt hot and sticky and needy and nervous.
Nervous because Bradley stilled.
Nervous because he sucked in a sharp breath.
Nervous, even though you had been here a million times before, in his bed and in yours, bent over desks and bars and couches, with the heat of him behind you, arousal flowing through your body like oxygen, anticipation clouding your mind.
"Shit, honey", Bradley breathed.
You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw.
How you'd have loved to see his expression. But you had known you wouldn't. You had prepared yourself to be satisfied with the sound of his voice, with the feel of him so close to you.
"Shit", Bradley repeated. He took another deep breath in. "You got a tattoo?"
A tattoo.
Your tattoo.
You nodded into the pillow, scraped your cheek against the fabric, so eager, so quick to agree. Four months you had waited for this. Four months since you had begun planning this - the very day after he'd left, in a conversation with none other than Phoenix. Four long, lonely months.
Bradley ran his thumb along the soft expanse of your skin. Along that strip of skin right above your hips, just where they met your back - right above your ass, right where he could see so very perfectly.
He was gentle. Almost not touching you at all. As though he was afraid he could somehow, even after all this time, hurt you, as though he was afraid he could wipe it away.
"It's healed", you whined, breathlessly, trying your hardest not to squirm, not to push back further into him even though you felt like you were going insane. You'd known he'd take his sweet time staring at that inked expanse of skin. But you hadn't known you would be so goddamn desperate for him to fuck you into delirium while he did so. "It's fully healed."
Bradley was quiet, silent behind you. His thumb stilled, stayed still. You sunk your teeth into your lip.
You would truly go mad here. For more than one reason now.
Bradley was always loud. Always moving, always doing something. He was forward and honest and loud and it was a miracle, really, when he wasn't. When he was calm and quiet and still. It didn't always mean something good.
It surely didn't always mean something bad, either.
But it didn't always mean something good.
And you hadn't been nervous. You hadn't been nervous about showing him, because you knew he loved you and he'd love this - this show of him, this show for him. Just for him. But you had still been fidgety. You had still been excited, flustered.... nervous, after all. In a good way. Now, good was turning to less good because he was quiet, for once, quiet and you didn't know what to do, what to say. You had expected him to go feral, had expected him to fuck you raw, to go absolutely ballistic. You had imagined, pictured, visualised it, four months long. Every night that you hadn't been remembering him, you had been imagining this - this moment right here, where he read the words inked forever into your skin, and every time, again and again, your fingers hadn't been enough, your vibrator hadn't been enough, nothing had been enough. Not in comparison to him, to his fingers and his tongue and his cock.
And every time, again and again, when nothing had been enough to replace him, you thought to yourself just how right it had been to have lain on that leather table bed in that tattoo parlour four months ago. Just how right it was to have him marked on your skin like that. Forever.
Great Balls Of Fire.
"Bradley, please", you whimpered, your fingers closing around whatever piece of fabric you could manage to grab at - the covers, the sheets, the pillows. "Say something. Please"
Bradley let out a long breath.
"Great Balls Of Fire?", he asked quietly, his fingers brushing over your skin again. Some kind of reassurance, at least.
"Thought you'd like it", you mumbled into the pillow, stumbling, tripping over your words a bit, still breathless around the edges. You couldn't be expected to talk now. Not when he was so close to giving you what you needed.
"Like it?" His hands wrapped around your waist, his left thumb still stroking over those unfamiliar familiar letters on your skin - Great Balls Of Fire, in his handwriting, taken from one of his sheets of music, from his piano. His song. His father's song.
Your song.
Your song.
Your song.
"Honey", Bradley rasped, pulling you an inch back to him and you let a whine fall from your lips. You were soaked, you were dripping, you were desperate and still so very unsatisfied. "Do I like it? I love it. I love you. God, you got a tattoo. You're incredible. You're-"
He stumbled over his own words, trailed off, left his sentence hanging unfinished in mid air. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a kiss right on top of your tattoo. Right on top of those letters, on top of that song, on top of your song. On top of the very reason you had met, six years ago in a stuffed navy bar.
"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me", he muttered, dropping another kiss onto your skin.
You whimpered again.
"You've been so good to me, honey, haven't you?", he went on, as though he wasn't hearing those little whines, those little moans rolling off your tongue. He was. You knew that. "You waited so prettily for me to come back, didn't you? You were so eager for me to be home again, so eager for me to be with you again that you even got a tattoo?"
You nodded along, nodded and nodded and kept on nodding because yes, yes and yes - yes to everything, yes to him.
"You got a tattoo just for me, honey. You can't even see it. Probably had to twist and turn in the mirror every day to take care of it, didn't you? And all just for me."
You nodded again - never really stopped nodding, not with his fingers brushing along your back, over your skin, with his voice so deep and rough and real.
"Just for you", you whined.
Bradley chuckled.
"Just for me", he repeated, his voice deeper than before - if that was even possible - his fingers stroking along your sides, roaming over your back, your spine. "Such a good girl."
A shiver went through your entire body at that - through your legs, your arms, your shoulders, through every single one of your fingers and toes. He knew just what he did to you when he said that.
He knew.
"Bradley", you moaned, unashamed now, the nerves in your veins long subsided, replaced once more by that all-consuming heat that you could never get enough of.
"Yeah, honey?", he asked. You could hear the grin on his lips. "What do you want?"
You let out a sort of sob that sounded pathetic even to your own ears. It wasn't that you minded begging. Because you didn't. You really didn't. But you had already done so, had already begged him miserably, had told him so prettily how you wanted him to fuck you. And he was starting all over again.
"Just once more, honey", Bradley whispered, dropping kisses to your spine, climbing higher and higher. "Tell me once more and you'll get whatever you want."
"Fuck me", you cried out, burying your face in the pillow, not letting even half a second pass by. Bradley always made good on his promises. And you needed him more than anything right now. "Please fuck me."
He was on you within a heartbeat.
One hand around your waist, pulling you into him, as the other one guided himself into you. He pushed into you in one smooth movement, pushed his hips right to yours, stretched you out like he hadn't in four goddamn months.
You were clenching around him, moaning his name, tears brimming in your eyes at the feeling of him again, finally. He was grunting, groaning behind you, his hands clasping around your waist as he settled deep inside you and let out a breath.
You hadn't felt so stretched out in so long. You hadn't felt him in so long. You needed more. You needed to feel more of him.
"Bradley", you whimpered. "Move."
His fingers dug even firmer into your sides. You bit down on your lip. He felt so good, so heavenly with his hands on your skin and his cock deep inside you, but you needed him to move, you needed him to move now, you needed him to fuck you and make you fall apart for him.
"Need a second, honey", he grunted, running his thumbs along your skin - along your new tattoo, just for this, just for him. "God, pretty girl, you're so tight. Missed you so much."
You whimpered underneath him, whimpered as you forced yourself to keep still for him, even as your thighs burned with the need to move, the need for more, the need to finally come undone around him. You knew you were close already. You could feel it, had been feeling it, dancing around the edges of your perception, melting in your blood, scorching in your stomach.
"Missed you too, Bradley", you moaned into the pillow, breathless and desperate for him. "Want to be good for you. So good."
"God, honey, you are", he groaned. "So good. Perfect."
And then he was moving, finally, and you let out a sobbed kind of prayer, your eyes falling shut, your fingers digging into the sheets as he thrust in and out of you in a slow, steady rhythm - enjoying the feeling of you around him, letting you enjoy the feeling of him inside you.
Just that you couldn't enjoy this.
You couldn't enjoy this because you were wound so tightly, wound so goddamn tightly that tears were pricking in your eyes, threatening to run down your cheeks and drop onto the covers. You needed him to make you fall apart, to make you come, you needed more. Just a little more.
You were teetering on the edge and he had you spiralling with how slowly he was fucking you. You needed him to send you over that edge, not build it higher and higher and higher up.
"Bradley", you whined, stumbling clumsily over his name as he ran a hand up your back. "More."
"Dunno if I can-" He broke off, his breath hitching, his fingers resting on your neck, brushing through your hair. "Fuck, honey, dunno if I can do more without coming."
You bit down on your lip at that, let out a moan so absolutely filthy that you were sure you would have been embarrassed of it if you'd had any more capacity to think - to think of anything other than him, anything other than how this god, who could fuck you for hours on end without tiring once, with so much stamina he could have you sobbing, coming for him four, five times on his cock alone, how this god was so desperate for you after four months that he was worried he'd come if he went any faster.
You were almost pushed over the edge just by that alone.
"I don't care", you cried, because you really didn't. "I don't need long, I need you. I'm so close."
Bradley grunted, his fingers brushing even higher up on your scalp.
"You're gonna be the death of me, honey", he muttered, just before he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you up onto your knees - into him, into his arms, your back flush to his chest. You dropped your head against his shoulder with a moan, let your eyes fall shut again.
He thrust up into you with vigor then, with more urgency, with less fear of coming undone, less fear of cutting this short. His hands smoothed over your sides, over your chest, holding you up against him, brushing along your breasts, along your stomach.
And all you could think was yes, this, this was it. This was what you had been imagining, what you had been picturing in a cold, lonesome bed every night, what you had been so desperate for.
His fingers trailed down your thigh, trailed up again, caught on your clit, drew a circle against that little bundle of nerves and you fell forward, doubled over, only held up by him, by his arms around you as you came undone, as you clenched around him.
Four months.
Four months and a tattoo.
And he hadn't even had you there for two minutes, had barely touched you, and now you were falling apart for him, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut, legs burning, fingers cramping. You'd waited four months for this.
You could feel him spilling inside you, noticed it somewhere dancing around the edges of your perception as you gasped for breath, tears stinging your cheeks and your nails digging into your own thighs.
This.
Him.
Bradley's finger had stilled on your clit. You blinked your eyes open, refocused on your green wallpaper, on the pictures, the old vintage polaroids of you and him right above the bed until you could see them all clearly again, until you could see them and realise what they were, until you could manage to tilt your head back and rest it, once more, against Bradley's shoulder. Until you had come back to reality again.
"I missed you so much, honey", he muttered into your ear, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss onto your exposed neck. "Missed this so much."
"Missed you so much too", you mumbled, reached for his hands. He pulled his finger from your clit, let you intertwine your hands with his, rested them carefully on your stomach. "Love you, Bradley."
He pressed another kiss to your neck, his lips warm, oh so warm on your skin, soft and warm and you needed him to kiss you now, to press his lips to yours.
"I love you too, honey", he whispered, halfway to brushing another kiss onto your skin when you turned your head, met his lips with your own, cut him off by surprise.
This was a weird angle, you had to strain your neck to even slot your lips together somewhat well and you were sloppy with it, too, your chest still heaving and your mind returning to clarity just now, but you didn't care, couldn't care, not when he'd just made you come, when he was holding you in his arms, when he was finally here, right behind you again, as though the last four months hadn't happened at all.
When you pulled back, you were feeling more normal again - as normal as you possibly could feel, with him behind you, with him inside you still.
"You got a tattoo", Bradley breathed, a grin dancing around the corners of his lips. You chuckled.
"Just for you", you nodded, brushing your fingertips up his arms, up to his elbows.
Bradley kissed you again, all parted lips and breathing into each other. You felt almost melancholic when he drew back. But he was smiling - and when he smiled, you had to smile too.
"I'm never letting you go again", he said, loosened his grip on you to trail his hands slowly, softly down your body, giving you enough time to steady yourself without him holding you up anymore. "And I'm not letting you leave this bed until the sun comes up, alright, pretty girl?"
You had to bite down on your lip to keep from grinning, anticipation already bubbling in your veins again. You knew he could make good on that promise. And that he probably would.
"Yes, please, Bradley", you muttered, already bending down again, splaying out your hands to catch yourself on the mattress as you showed him your tattoo again, just for him to see, just for him to touch. Just for him. "Whatever you want. As long as you want. I love you."
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callsign-peach · 1 year
Text
the beanery
summary: jake goes from drinking the base’s stale coffee to bringing in cups from the cafe down the road from the hard deck, and the dagger squad is determined to find out why
pairing: established hangman x female!reader
a/n: the title? has almost nothing to do w the plot, but it’s the name of the coffee shop!!
--- Javy was the first to notice, but it was only because he had gone with Jake to your coffee shop a couple of weeks ago. He had been talking to his best friend about some plans for the newest aviators, and didn’t realize Jake had an end location in mind.
“What’s that?” Bradley asked, eyes honing in on the white take-out cup that Jake was sipping from.
“Hm?” The blonde asked, pocketing his phone and looking at his wingman. “Oh, just some coffee from that new place.”
Javy took a swig of his own Thermos to hide his smirk.
“Oh? The one near the Hard Deck? Penny said the owner’s been in a few times to ask about some tax shit.”
Jake nodded absentmindedly, he already knew this information. “Yeah, they’ve got some good stuff.”
He met Javy’s knowing eye and sent him a look, and Javy was thankful looks couldn’t kill.
Before anyone else could get a word in, Pete entered the room alongside a dozen newly-adorned Top Gun students, raring to go up in the air.
--- You heard the belle chime on the door, calling out to the patron that you’d be a moment. 
Slicing the now-empty cardboard box, you slid it between the wall and the trashcan, hoping you’d remember to take it out to the dumpster before trash day. 
Walking out into the bar, you smiled when you saw your boyfriend leaning along one of the columns in the seating area. “Hey, J. How was your day?”
“Good, you?” Jake asked, thanking you as you handed him a toasted bagel with strawberry cream cheese. You almost keeled over when you found out your boyfriend’s go-to pastry at the cafe was a plain bagel, losing it when he spread pink cream cheese over it.
“I can’t believe you go for those bagels over my croissants!” You laughed, taking a sip from the iced coffee you made yourself about half an hour ago.
“Oh, what’s that? New syrup? Sauce? Lemme try.” Jake reached over for the clear plastic cup, puckering his lips over the straw. “Oh, babe, I don’t know about that one.”
Laughing, you nodded over to the dainty chalkboard wall with the featured drink. “Raspberry vanilla iced latte. You don’t like raspberries.” 
Jake hummed, face falling when his phone chirped from his pocket. “Damn, duty calls.”
Duty referred to drinks at the Hard Deck, a weekly tradition the dagger squad kept up once they were stationed at Miramar for good.
“Don’t know why you don’t just offer to have drinks here sometime. I can make espresso martinis or whatever shit Javy’s trying to make at our place.” 
Jake chewed the thought over, pulling his lip between his teeth. “Soon, I just like having my little secret barista girlfriend.” 
Scoffing, you playfully slapped your boyfriend’s chest. “Barista? I’m a full-fledged business owner, Seresin! Get it right!”
Jake laughed, pressing a kiss to your temple with a promise to be home before midnight. --- Stopping the timer on her watch, Natasha stepped into the cool air of the newest cafe in MIramar after her morning run, thankful for the air conditioning. 
“Good morning! Welcome to The Beanery, can I get anything started for you?”
Looking at the woman behind the counter, Natasha felt like she’d seen the woman somewhere before. “Oh, um, sure. Iced coffee, no creamer.”
“Any flavors?” You asked, scooping ice into the branded cup.
“Caramel?” Natasha smiled, and you laughed and pumped some caramel syrup into her cup.
“Oh, this is so much better than the base coffee!” Natasha smiled, depositing her change into the tips jar. 
“Base? You’re in the Navy?” You asked, setting some mugs out on the counter. 
Sure am. Naval aviator, originally was only here for a quick mission a couple years ago, but I guess they thought we were good enough to stick around.”
You smiled, setting the drying towel on the counter as the bell chimed for another customer coming in. “My boyfriend’s in the Navy, I’ll have to ask if he knows you.”
“Who knows! Thanks again for the coffee!” Natasha smiled as she left, taking her time walking back to her apartment and changing into her khakis.  --- “You, too?! Man, everyone’s getting coffee at the new place!” Mickey spoke as Natasha finished off her iced coffee.
Jake looked up from where he was texting you about the chocolate pastries you were experimenting with selling. 
He saw the plastic cup he had helped unpack the weekend prior, curious if his colleague had met you or one of your employees. 
“Yeah, it’s really good, and the food looked so good! I might go after work again to grab another drink.”
“Oh, I’m coming with. I need to try this coffee if you and Bagman say it’s good!” Bradley added, tossing a ball of paper at the blond man’s head.
Soon enough, the entire dagger squad was planning a short jaunt over to your coffee shop, Jake included. --- The bell chimed and took you from your thoughts, thankful for the distraction from the pastries you were trying to laminate.
“Welcome to the Bean- oh. Back so soon?” You asked, smiling as you saw Natasha walk back in, flanked by some other Navy men. “And you brought friends? Man, my confidence is sky-high right now.” 
Natasha laughed, though she missed the teasing look you gave your boyfriend as he walked in. “Sorry, I just can’t enjoy anything. These rats always have to tag along.” 
You snorted, starting on Jake’s drink absentmindedly. “What can I get you guys?”
The aviators all ordered, but when it was Jake’s turn to speak up, you smirked. “What can I get for you, Lieutenant Seresin?” 
Jake smiled, wanting nothing more than to swipe the flour off of your cheek. “Iced macchiato, extra caramel.”
“You know what a macchiato is, right? You bitch about me pouring any milk in my coffee, they’re like 90% milk!” 
You laughed as Bradley pointed to the cup, exasperated.
“Shut up, Birdbrain.”
Silently setting all the drinks at the end of the bar, you slid Javy one of the oatmeal cookies you made earlier. “Since I was out of them last week.”
“Thanks, but you know I was just going to grab some next time I was at your and Jake’s place.”
Shrugging, you watched as Bob seemed to put the dots together, silently sipping his Americano with a knowing look.
“Okay, this is going to sound really weird, but do you know anyone on base? I swear I’ve seen you before!” Natasha said, curiosity getting the best of her. 
You smiled, twinkle in your eyes. “My boyfriend’s an aviator, maybe you’ve seen me around with him? I don’t know, though. I just moved out here recently.”
Javy coughed into his coffee, trying to disguise his laugh. 
“Who’s your boyfriend?” Rueben asked, curious.
Smile growing wider, you simply nodded towards Jake. “Jake.”
“What the fuck?” Bradley asked, jaw falling open. 
Natasha and the rest of the aviator, sans Bob and Javy, all stared at the two, heads swiveling to look at the couple. “In your locker! There’s a photo of her in there, that’s where I’ve seen you before!” 
“You keep a photo of me in your locker? Cute.” You teased, coming out from behind the bar to stand with your boyfriend’s friends.
Jake blushed, offering you a sip of his coffee. “All right, all right, yes, everyone meet my girlfriend.”
You smiled, officially introducing yourself, promising to catch up more with the aviators after you heard the alarm going off for the croissants in the back oven.
“Damn, Hangman, you did good.” Rueben clapped his friend on the back. 
“Yeah, I did.” --- a/n: i like this couple idea a lot but i cannot write it i have too many thoughts going through my head so def expect more !!!!!! send requests, chat to me about this trope at literally any time !!!
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vxntagedior · 1 year
Text
save a horse, ride an aviator
summary | jake takes you to texas where you learn the infamous law
pairing | jake "hangman" seresin x fem!reader
warning | fluff, slight angst, mentions of sex, jealous!jake, possessive!jake
word count | 1.2k
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The bar was crowded when the two of you walked in. Jake had brought you home to Texas during his two week brevent after the mission. 
You constantly teased Jake while at the Hard Deck, saying that he needed to take you line dancing whenever the two of you went back to Texas. 
Coming to Texas, Jake took you out and dressed you in a perfect outfit for you, buying you your first pair of cowboy boots. At his family ranch, his sisters taught a few popular dances that were played down at the bar. 
It was Friday night, Jake’s sister was helping you out with a few final touches to your outfit and makeup before they heard someone clear their throat.
You gulped, seeing his biceps practically bulging out of his shirt that had to be a few sizes too small. His sisters left the bathroom all giggling to each other seeing how you looked at Jake. 
“You ready darlin’?” God you couldn’t even answer, the little Texas accent he had coming out more than usual. 
“You ready darlin’?” God you couldn’t even answer, the little Texas accent he had coming out more than usual. 
Guiding you down the house, the rest of his family were all in the living room, his mother cooing at the two of you together. Getting in the car and driving towards the bar, Jake’s hand rested on your thigh. 
Turning into a gravel lot, the bar kept with a saloon vibe. Coming to the other side of the truck, opening the door for you, Jake gave you his hand, helping down and out. It was barely 10pm, and you could see all the cars in the driveway, expecting the bar to be crowded.
“C’mon now.” You were practically frozen in your spot, making Jake basically drag you inside. The music was loud, everyone on the floor dancing, and at the bars. Your eyes jumped to almost every single object in the room, getting a feel for the night.
Meeting some of his friends, you noticed how each of the girls had been wearing cowboy boots, and with the look of their boyfriends hat hair, it wasn’t their hat that was on their head. 
You seemed to notice how many women had hats on their heads.
Not wanting to ask Jake and seem stupid, you turned to one of the girlfriends of Jake’s friends. 
“Why do all the girls wear hats?” You asked. You along with two other girls sat in a booth on the side of the bar. 
The two of you girls side eyed each other before turning back to you. 
“It kind of means that if you’re wearing a man’s cowboy hat, you’re taken, you’re with him.” The first girl, Ava explained. 
“If she’s wearing the hat, she’s riding the stallion.” The other, Izzy snorted. 
You furrowed your brows and didn't really get her joke. Ava seemed to notice your perplexed look before speaking again.
“Wearing a hat, ends up in your man's lap. Save a horse, ride a cowboy.” She smirked.
Finally understanding, you felt a little disheartened. You and Jake had been together for almost 3 years now, and you thought it was serious. 
“Hey.” Izzy grabbed your hand, “Don’t think too much about it, I can see that Jake clearly loves you, a hat isn’t going to change that.”
Taking your mind off the situation, Izzy and Ava brought you out to dance. You quickly noticed how many people were looking at the three of you, more looking at you. Remembering that Izzy and Ava had their boyfriends’ hats on, you were in the eyes of everyone else, single. 
Across the bar, Jake was gripping onto his beer tight, his eyes slightly twitching when he saw another man come up to dance with you. 
“You good there Seresin.” Izzy’s boyfriend snorted, knowing what was exactly going on. Jake was never one to be jealous, he put his trust in you, and knew that you wouldn’t do anything to mess with that but seeing that man dancing with you, though you kept your distance from him, he couldn’t keep the green monster inside him calm. 
Taking a break after your fourth dance, the three of you made your way towards the bar. Leaning against the countertop, your forearms rested on the edge, taking in deep breaths, when you felt someone brush up against you. He was quite the opposite of Jake, a few inches shorter, his skin more tan, his hair brunette. 
Jake always had a cocky smirk whenever he flirted with you but the guy next to you had a genuine smile. 
“Oh I’m sorry.” You already started to deny him.
“I know, you’re with Seresin.” You stared at him in shock, not even knowing the man. “Don’t worry, I’ve known Jake for ages. Just stepping on his toes so he can finally make his move.”
Laughing slightly, you turned to see Jake looking green. Though the two of you were already together, you needed that hat. 
“He’s coming.” You noticed turning back to the guy, “Pretend like I said something funny?”
Jake heard your laugh as he walked up to the two of you, seeing you wrap your hand around the guy’s hand, throwing your head back. 
“Yoder.” Jake saw who had come up to you, “You’re with my girl.”
You never understood why you thought Jake looked even better when he was possessive, maybe he was the way his jawline was more prominent when he clenched it or maybe he flexed his muscles so they could look even bigger. 
“He just offered me a drink, it’s fine Jake.” You were adding flame to the fire. 
Feeling a grip on your shoulder, Jake turned your shoulders, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you away from him. 
“What was that?” You were both outside now, Jake was practically fuming and you tried so hard not to laugh. 
“What?” You feigned innocence, “He was just being nice.”
“He should have known better.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes, not wanting to be mad at you.
“Well he didn’t know we were together?” You smirked. 
“What- what do you-oh.” Jake was confused, he had known Yoder for years, and spoke about you constantly and showed him pictures. The gears in his head finally clicked, seeing the slight glimmer in your eyes. 
“All that for a hat?” He chuckled.
“Yes!” You slightly whined, “Jakie, we’ve been together forever, I wanna wear your hat.”
He couldn’t help but laugh, wrapping his arms around you, bringing you into a hug. Pulling away, he lifted the hat off his head, putting it on yours. 
Slightly adjusting it, you took a couple steps back presenting yourself. 
“What do you think?”
“I think my night is gonna end well.” He smirked, wrapping arms around your waist, slowly lowering his hands down to the swell of your ass. “Gonna ride your cowboy tonight?”
Slipping away from his grasp, you started to make your way back to the bar, before turning your head over your shoulder, giving him a flirty smile.
“I’m gonna ride an aviator.”
fin.
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wannabeschyulersister · 9 months
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flash me (rooster x reader)
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*based on the episode of new girl where Jess walks in on Nick*
“I have to move out.”
Natasha set her drink back on the table, “Did Bradshaw finally drive you crazy? I told you having him as a roommate would eventually make you want to pull your hair out. Is he leaving the toilet seat up all of the time?”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Is he having too many “special” guests over?”
You shook your head, “Nope.”
“Then what happened?”
You looked around to see if any of the squad members were close enough to hear your conversation.
“Uh, I walked in on him.” You whispered.
Natasha leaned close, “What did you say? I can barely hear you.”
“I walked in on him in the bathroom.” You quickly said.
Your best friend looked a little confused, “Was he on the toilet?”
“I walked in on him naked!”
Natasha froze and the started laughing as if you said the funniest joke she’d ever heard. It annoyed you but you knew if situations were reversed you’d be laughing your ass off too.
Just then, Jake sidled up to you as if appearing out of nowhere, “I heard the word “naked” and Phoenix laughed so hard she has tears coming out. I have to get in on this conversation.”
“(Y/n) walked in on Bradshaw naked.” Natasha blurted out as she wiped away her tears.
You tried to pinch her but she moved out of your grasp, “I wasn’t trying to tell the whole damn bar!”
“I won’t say anything, sweets.” Jake promised, “Now, what did you see? A little backside? Full frontal?”
You looked down at your hands, “Uh both?”
“You poor lady. Seeing Bradshaw naked can be absolutely traumatic for anybody.” Jake joked.
You rolled your eyes, “I’m not traumatized! I just can’t look him in the eyes anymore which makes our living situation awkward.”
“How did he react?”
“He tried to cover himself as much as he could but it was too late. This is why I always scold him to lock the damn bathroom door!”
“You know what you have to do right?” Jake asked.
“Move out, change my name and run to Europe.”
He chuckled at your plan, “No, sweets. You got to show him something of yours.”
“Hangman, you’re an idiot.” Natasha told him.
He ignored her, “Think about it. You’d be even and not at all embarrassed every time that you see him. A flash is all it takes.”
“Please don’t listen to him. You don’t have to flash Bradshaw. Just talk to him. Acknowledging how awkward it is and moving on like adults is the right thing to do.” Natasha gave sound advice that you should definitely listen to.
“Phoenix, that sounds like the logical thing to do but I might go with Jake’s plan.”
“Why do I even bother to give out advice?” Natasha mumbled to no one.
“I appreciate your advice but I feel like I’m always going to feel awkward if things are even.”
Before Natasha could respond with how ridiculous you were being, Bradley walked into the bar. He looked around and spotted you instantly. It wasn’t hard to detect the pink tint that dusted his cheeks.
Bradley went over to the bar and planted down on one of the stools. Any other time, he would’ve pulled up a chair with the three of you and joined in.
“See. I can’t live like this. Bradley won’t even sit with me now.”
“Wow, maybe you do need to flash him.” Natasha said.
“So, what are you going to do?” Jake asked. He was clearly enjoying this more than he should.
You wished that Bradley would’ve just locked the damn door that morning so you both would’ve avoided all of the mess.
“I guess I’m going to flash Bradley.”
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lieutenantfloyd · 2 months
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The Little things with Husband! Hangman ♡
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Husband! Hangman who tries (and fails) to impress you in increasingly comical ways—like trying to bring three weeks' worth of groceries inside in one trip
Husband! Hangman who is so in love with you that it's almost annoying
Husband! Hangman who rubs your relationship in the face of each and every single person he comes across
Husband! Hangman who cried through your entire wedding ceremony (and most of the reception)
Husband! Hangman who gets his wedding ring tattooed so there's never any doubt
Husband! Hangman who takes you home to Texas
Husband! Hangman who quite literally falls to his knees when you wear one of his UT shirts
Husband! Hangman who pulls you into his lap anytime you walk within arm's distance
Husband! Hangman who tries to convince you to let him buy a motorcycle just so you can be his backpack
Husband! Hangman who's determined to be the father he never had
Husband! Hangman who now sees that there more to life than just his career
Husband! Hangman who gets a small tattoo on his ring finger for when he can't wear his actual ring
Husband! Hangman who takes you—and eventually your children—out on weekly ice cream dates
Husband! Hangman who has a habit of pulling you down on the couch for a nap whenever he's feeling clingy
Husband! Hangman who heavily considered retiring when you were expecting your first child together, only for you to convince him that he can live out both his personal and professional dreams
Husband! Hangman who only ever told you one lie. that in a box of chocolate, his favorites are the ones you hate
Husband! Hangman who's determined to never let the sparks of your relationship fizzle out
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Taglist: @rosiahills22 @princessofglitterland @bella-law @callsignaries @blue-aconite @katesmadness @oliviah-25 @another-tblr-fangirl @luckyladycreator2 @eliseline @xoxabs88xox @nyx2021 @fanboyluvr @lisedanie @alexxavicry @madamemelancholysstuff @dozcan123 @withakindheartx @teti-menchon0604 @sass-masterkittenmama @kmc1989
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roostersforevergirl · 4 months
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This man🥵
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Masterlist
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ddejavvu · 10 months
Note
jake with a shy!reader i feel like that man would be so down bad he’d be unrecognizable to his friends
Tailgating by the beach means sand in your hair (and everywhere else), a trash can full of beer bottles, and a whole lot of wipeouts. For most.
For you, it means Jake’s sweatshirt bunched up under your head like a pillow as your back rests against the metal grooves of his pickup’s bed. Your pinky is intertwined with the man’s own as you stargaze, avoiding the cloud of smoke billowing up from the bonfire.
“That one looks like an F-35.” He informs you, pointing at a constellation that is definitely not a fighter plane.
“I think that’s Draco.” You hum, “Not sure, though.”
Jake turns to you with a furrow in his brow, “That little shit from Harry Potter?”
“No!” You shriek, louder than you’re used to speaking. Jake has a way of making you forget your reservations, giving you the courage to speak up around him.
“It’s a constellation.” You quiet yourself, feeling Jake’s pinky tighten around yours. “I read that it was supposed to be in the sky tonight.”
“You read up on the stars?” Jake turns to you, propped on his side in the truck bed. It must be awful on his hips, but he does it anyways to gaze at your side profile.
You give him a front view, turning your head to stare back at him, “I didn’t do it on purpose, I just saw it on Instagram, I think. On someone’s story.”
He hums in acknowledgment, but neglects to return to stargazing. He’s yougazing now, his eyes tracing the curve from your chin to your cheek, then sloping down the bridge of your nose.
“Do you think-”
You’ll never know if you and Jake share thoughts on whatever matter is in his head, because a sudden thud against the mouth of the truck bed makes you startle, and Jake nearly breaks his neck sitting up to see who made the noise. You draw yourself upright but slower, more cautiously.
It’s one of his squadron members, you’ve seen the guy before in passing, but you don’t think he’s ever noticed you. He’s on the shorter side, and he’s quickly flanked by both Coyote and a taller, unknown counterpart.
“Hangman,” The short one snickers, “I was betting you were passed out somewhere with a bottle in your mouth, not schmoozing some poor woman in your truck.”
You’ve met Javy before, albeit briefly when you’d passed in the hallway of his and Jake’s shared apartment, and in the few terrifying seconds of confrontation your eyes stray over the man’s shoulder and meet Javy’s. He sends you a kind, sympathetic smile at the antics of his friend. You feel safe around him.
“What’s your name, honey?” The taller man leans over the side of the truck bed, a smirk on his face, “Last one was Brenda- no, Brianna.”
“Payback, that was months ago.” Javy snaps, and even though you know it’s true, Jake still looks guilty. He’d confessed in you that he wasn’t exactly a saint when it came to past relations, but all that mattered was the present for you; that you were the only one in it, and he’s stuck to that without a problem.
“I’m not schmoozing her, Fanboy.” Jake drawls, a vicious look in his eyes, “We were trying to have a private moment.”
Fanboy elbows Payback incredulously, shit-eating grins already on their faces, “Sex in a pickup! On the beach, in public. Jesus, man, there’s nothin’ you won’t do.”
“I won’t hesitate to break your nose if you don’t shut your mouth,” Jake seethes, and his free hand tenses into a fist even if he’s more bark than bite. Fanboy doesn't flinch, but Payback's smirk dims.
"Lay off, man." Coyote elbows Fanboy, "It's not like that."
"The only reason you've never met'er before is 'cause I knew you'd act like this," Jake scoffs, "Doesn't mean she's some cheap fling."
You desperately want to intervene, but you don't have the words to do it even if you tried. There's a thousand swirling in your brain, but there's a stopper in its drain to your mouth, a thick clog of panic.
"Well what is your name?" Payback repeats his question, more considerate this time. You're glad he seems to have dropped his bravado, even if you're not sure Fanboy has.
"Y/N," You manage to speak, glad that you know your own name well enough to utter it even when your brain doesn't cooperate. You don't say much else, though, and Javy fills in for your silence.
"She's Jake's girl," Javy smiles at you, happy to see his friend settling down, "She's not big on talking. Not to assholes like you, anyways."
"Well that's great," Fanboy's demeanor is much nicer when he's not goading his teammate, "'Cause Jake never shuts up. Sounds like a match made in heaven."
"I'm gonna send you to hell if you don't leave us alone," Jake glares pointedly at Fanboy in particular, but the expression is extended to Payback as well, "I wasn't kidding, we were having a conversation."
"That's our cue," Coyote informs the other two, who knew but weren't willing to give up their teasing leverage. He rings an arm each around their necks, bidding you a kind goodbye as he leads them away.
"Darlin'," Jake turns to you as soon as they're gone, like a guard dog that eases out of attack mode, "I'm so sorry. They don’t mean any harm, just- they seriously don't know when to quit, 'probably comes from bein' so aggressive in the air. I'm sorry they were so pushy."
"It's alright," You nod, "It's not your fault, Jake. I'm not angry, I just- I was a little embarrassed."
"I know," He hums sympathetically, leaning in to peck your lips, "I know baby. Listen, now they've met you, they'll probably back off. And if they don't, if you see 'em around somewhere and they try messin' with you, you let me know and I might accidentally fire on 'em in an exercise."
"I don't think you should murder your friends," You tamp down a smile at Jake's suggestion, because the last thing he needs is encouragement, "But I hope I don't see them when you're not around."
A hundred feet away, down on the smooth, wet sand of the shore, Coyote finally lets Payback and Fanboy go, shoving their heads down with the force of his grip around their necks.
"Ow, dude!" Fanboy gripes, but he deserves it the most, "If I'm gonna break my neck it's gonna be in the air, in some sick-ass stunt maneuver."
"Your sick ass needs to learn to shut up," Coyote scoffs, "He's serious about that girl, man! And I wouldn't be surprised if she was running for the hills now."
"C'mon, Coyote, we were just teasing," Payback pleads his case, but Coyote narrows his eyes.
"You can't tease her, not like that. Hell, the first time she ever came over I made a joke about wearing noise-cancelling headphones for them and she couldn't look me in the eye for weeks."
"The first time she came over," Payback's brow furrows, "He's been bringing her around your guys' place?"
"I told you he was serious," Coyote throws a glance back over to Jake's truck, where his hand is pointed in the air once more, "Know any other reason he'd be stargazing right now?"
Fanboy's face wrinkles in a confused grimace, "Stargazing? He's way too douchey for that."
"He's way too in love not to," Payback marvels, "Holy shit. That's- I can't process that, man, that's weird."
"Get used to it," Coyote takes a swig of his beer, "Y'know he's been lighting candles in our apartment for her? I mean, it's nice, 'cause it gets rid of his nasty laundry smell, but candles. Hangman, candles!"
Fanboy rears his head back, "What scent?"
"Lavender."
"Lavender?"
"I know!"
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topgun-imagines · 8 months
Text
No Worse Pain
Requested: yes
Summary: Bradley has been extremely stressed at work lately. You don’t want to add to that by telling him about the pain you���re in.
Word count: 1.2k
Warnings: periods, cramps, pain.
Pairings: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x fem!reader
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Stupid fucking period cramps. In your entire life, you couldn’t remember another time when you wished for the pain to dissipate this badly. You felt like sobbing. For the past three hours, you had been curled up on the couch, hands clutching your lower waist desperately. You hadn’t had period cramps this bad for years. While you weren’t exactly sure what caused the pain to be this intense, you were silently praying that it would disappear soon.
Another wave of pain rolled through you, causing you to curl up even further and hiss quietly. Normally, Bradley would be curled up right behind you. Only, this week, he was conveniently so busy at work that even as the clock struck 11:00 pm, he was still nowhere close to coming home. So, you were left to find a way to deal with the cramps yourself.
However, nothing was working. You had taken painkillers and had a hot water bottle pressed against your lower stomach. And yet you still couldn’t find any relief. There was a random show playing in the background, but you couldn’t focus enough to make sense of it. You were so out of it that you didn’t even hear the crunch of your finance’s tires as he pulled into the driveway. Nor did you hear the door open with a loud creak.
It felt as if there was a 100-pound weight on his shoulders as Bradley stepped through the door and into your shared home. He hated the fact that he was only coming home to you this late at night. Usually, he was home in time for the two of you to share dinner. Lately, however, he had been coming home later and later. Over the past few weeks, Bradley’s workload had increased tenfold. He had stacks upon stacks of paperwork, plus training, and he was up for a new promotion.
The added stress had put a small strain on your relationship. A few arguments had been caused by Bradley’s newly added stress. However, they had been small and had quickly blown over. Now, as he kicked his heavy boots off and dropped his backpack onto the floor, all he wanted was to be with you.
He walked around the corner, ready to be greeted with the sight of you with your hair tossed up in a messy bun, pyjamas on and binging some new show that he had never heard of. But what he saw had him freezing for a second. The show was playing, just like how he had imagined, but you were balled up on the couch, whimpering quietly and turned away from the TV.
“Honey?” The second you heard his voice you were trying to hide the fact that you were in pain. With everything that Bradley had going on at work, you didn’t want to add more to his load. He immediately rushed forward and crouched down beside you. “Is everything okay?” The soothing feeling of his hand gently caressing your side had you wanting to burst into tears. Your emotions really were a wreck right now.
After taking a moment to compose yourself, you rolled over with what you hoped was a reassuring smile. “All good, baby. How was your day?” You silently pleaded that changing the topic would work. He hesitated for a moment, searching your face for any sign of pain before he relented.
“It was alright. Stressful as usual,” Somehow, that only made you feel worse. Knowing that Bradley had such a terrible day, the thought of him having to come home, expecting to relax, and having to deal with your pain instead made you feel uneasy. He noticed you wince when you shifted, your hand grasping your lower stomach. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”
Regardless of the pain, you plastered a smile on your face. Bradley seemed to accept your single nod and dropped the subject. Wordlessly, you stood from the couch and made your way to the bedroom, Bradley hot on your heels.
Getting ready for bed was a hard task when you were trying to mask how much pain you were in. You could tell that Bradley was still suspicious, but you were grateful that he didn’t say anything. You disappeared into the bathroom, popping a few more painkillers into your mouth and finished your business.
Bradley was sitting on the bed when you returned. You could only smile at him, kissing his cheek as you climbed into bed. The soft cry that escaped you as you sat down had Bradley’s head snapping over to you. He cooed softly as he wrapped his arms around you and held you against his chest. You began crying softly, hating the fact that you were putting additional stress on your fiance. “Honey, it’s okay.” He attempted to soothe you quietly, but your tears only fell harder.
“Darlin’, please,” Your fiance pleaded quietly, asking, begging you to tell him what was hurting you. “Just let me in.” His forehead knocked against yours and you could feel the love and sincerity rolling off him in waves. He wanted you to open up to him. He wanted you to share that with him. So you nodded.
You took in a breath and began explaining yourself. “I got my period this morning. You were already at work,” You noted when you saw that Bradley was confused. “Everything was fine until this evening. Then I got really bad cramps and nothing I did worked. It really hurts.” You whimpered quietly. Sighing, your fiance hugged you tighter and ran his fingers through your hair gently.
Even though you had told him what was hurting you, he knew that there was something you were still holding back. Bradley simply held you, waiting for you to open up on your own. And when you spoke, Bradley was shocked at the words that came out of your mouth. “But even though it hurt that bad, the hardest part was not telling you.” Your head was resting on his chest and the room was so quiet that you could hear his heartbeat pick up at his words.
Given the promotion that he was up against, you really didn't want to draw his focus away from his work. You knew how much Bradley wanted this and you would never be able to forgive yourself if you were the reason that he didn’t get it.
It took your fiance a few seconds to form a response. “I’m sorry that you’re in pain, princess. Lay down, let me help you.” You obeyed, shuffling under the covers and letting Bradley maneuver you. He moved you until you were laying on your side with Bradley spooning you from behind. The feeling of his warm hands sitting on your lower stomach had you almost moaning in relief. Even though you had tried all night to dilute the pain, the second Bradley’s hand hit your skin, you felt a thousand times better.
There was a silent communication between the two of you as you both drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms. No matter how busy or stressed Bradley was, you could share anything with him. It didn’t matter how big or small the problem, he wanted to know.
a/n: Hope you all enjoy! Thank you for reading and requests are open :)
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Tagging: @topguncultleader @soulmates8 @t0kyoreveng3rs @there-goes-thefighter @blueoorchid @atarmychick007 @alexxavicry @bradleybeachbabe @chaoticassidy @nyx2021 @aviatorobsessed @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @angelbabyange @oliviah-25 @cassiemitchell @classyunknownlover @shelbycillian @khaylin27 @bruher @lovelywiseprincess @sunsetsimpsblog @fandom-life-12 @emmza63 @cornishkat @iceman-kazansky @himbos-on-ice @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @wkndwlff @entertainmentgal8 @dakotakazansky @kmc1989 @shanimallina87 @memoriesat30 @sarahjoestewy-blog @ducks118 @marvelouslyme96 @linkpk88 @xoxabs88xox @abbymwall @eternallyvenus @rey26 @lt-spork @callsign-ember @tim-thefrog @zombi3wh0r3 @cheyrenee @nyctophilic0vitnir @labellapeaky @skylineskyler @irosemh
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writingdumpster · 8 months
Text
secret wife part two
pairing: Bob Floyd x reader
warnings: none
summary: part two to secret wife, accessible through my navigation, pinned to my profile.
word count: 1.7k
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You were in the kitchen of your North Island rental, zipping around as you prepared dinner for the dagger squad. You had lemon bars in the oven and chicken cooking on the stove. Bob had mentioned to you that he’d shared your lemon bars with Phoenix before and they were Daisy’s favorite as well. Daisy was Bob’s sister. She was just one year younger than him and she’d become a close friend of yours since meeting her. When you’d invited her to dinner you told her to dress nicely because you wanted to take a photo for your instagram with her. You didn’t tell her about Bob’s friends coming and you certainly didn’t tell her how you thought Hangman would be perfect for her after only a few stories about him from Bob. Bob was quietly laying plates and silverware out, stacking napkins beside them as you arranged your counter for the guests to serve themselves. 
“Can you go get that, Robby?” You asked as you heard the first knock on the door. Bob went to answer the door and Daisy came bounding in. 
“Where is that beautiful wife of yours, Bob?” She asked with a smile.  
“What? No ‘Hello, Bob; Nice to see you?’ Just ‘where’s my wife?’” Bob teased. 
“That’s exactly right, Bobby Boy. Is she in the kitchen while you sit around?” Daisy asked as she toed off her shoes and headed for the kitchen. 
“Hey, y/n,” Daisy greeted as she walked in. She came in and took in all the food you���d made. “Is it more than just me?” She asked. 
“Some of Robby’s friends are coming over too,” you told her. “The ones who went on the mission with him.” 
“Oh, that’s great,” Daisy said with a smile. “Do you want any help?” She offered as there was another knock on the door. Bob went to go answer it and let Payback, Coyote, and Fanboy into the house. Fanboy had a bouquet of flowers with him. 
“You brought flowers?” Bob asked when he opened the door. 
“I told you it was weird, man,” Payback said. 
“You’re not supposed to show up to someone’s home empty handed,” Fanboy grumbled. 
“No, y/n will love it. The ones I bought her last week are dying,” Bob said. Fanboy smiled slightly. Rooster was striding up the steps to your house just as Coyote walked through the doorway. He had a bottle of wine in his hand and he handed it to Bob. 
“I told you it’s not weird to bring something,” Fanboy hissed at Payback. 
“That’s wine, not flowers. It’s a little weird,” Coyote piped in. 
“It’s not weird. It’s nice,” Bob assured Fanboy as he led his friends into the kitchen. You turned to see your new guests led by Bob with flowers and a bottle of wine in hand.
“Aw, who brought flowers?” You asked with a smile. 
“Fanboy,” Bob said. 
“That’s so nice,” you said as you took them. Bob placed the bottle of wine on the counter and went looking for the opener. Fanboy stuck his tongue out at Payback when you turned around which only earned him an eye roll in return. You began placing the flowers in a vase when there was one last knock at the door. Bob opened the door to welcome Phoenix and Hangman into your home. He instructed them to take off their shoes and then ushered them into your kitchen. You looked over at Daisy the moment you saw it was Hangman who had arrived. You watched as her eyes widened and a tiny smile spread across her lips. You smirked to yourself. 
“Right on time,” you greeted your newest guests. “Serve yourselves. Don’t be shy,” you said as you stepped aside. Rooster was the first to pick up a plate, giving himself a generous serving of the chicken you had made. The rest of Bob’s friends lined up, but Phoenix approached you before she grabbed a plate. 
“Bob told me you were going to make the lemon bars I like,” Phoenix said quietly. Her confidence was a bit shaky. She wanted you to like her. Bob had quickly become her best friend and she was worried that he hadn’t told her about you because you wouldn’t like her. She handed you a small gift bag. “I um, made this for you,” she told you. You opened the bag to find a hand knit scarf in your favorite colors. 
“This is so sweet. Thank you!” You said with a smile. 
“I know you’ll be back in Lemoore soon and it doesn’t get that cold there, but um,” Phoenix glanced down at her hands. “I thought maybe you and Bob could visit me in Norfolk sometime.” You smiled warmly. 
“That sounds wonderful,” you said as you pulled her into a hug. “I’m glad Robby has you,” you told her when you pulled away. 
“Yeah, me too,” she agreed with a smile. 
“Now go grab a plate before the boys eat everything,” you told her. You turned back and noticed that Hangman was seating himself beside Daisy. You’d managed to squeeze enough chairs around the dining room table. You settled across from Daisy once you’d gotten your own food. Bob kissed the top of your head as he took the seat beside you. Coyote, Rooster, and Payback were already eating but Fanboy sat there anxiously waiting for you and Bob to sit before he took a bite. 
“You didn’t have to wait for us,” Bob said as he took his first bite. 
“I told you,” Coyote teased before shoving another piece of chicken into his mouth.
“This is delicious,” Rooster gushed to you. 
“Don’t tell my mom, but this is the best food I’ve ever had,” Payback agreed. You thanked them with a smile. When everyone had eaten they all agreed that Bob must have fallen in love with you because of your cooking. 
“The cooking is great, but all she had to do was smile at me and I was hers,” Bob said as he took your hand upon the table. Phoenix smiled to herself, glad that her friend was so happy. 
“Robby and I will get this cleaned up. I’ve got dessert for all of you too,” you said. Fanboy and Phoenix quickly volunteered to help with the dishes. Daisy started to rise as well but you stopped her. “Relax. I’ve got enough help tonight,” you said before throwing an encouraging look towards Hangman. Hangman glanced over at Daisy. He started to open his mouth to introduce himself, but his breath caught in his throat. He cleared his throat roughly and then turned to her. 
“I’m Hang—” He stopped himself. “I’m Jake,” he told Daisy. Bob met your eye and you held in a laugh before you retreated to the kitchen. 
“Nice to meet you, Jake,” Daisy said with a smile. “I’m Daisy.” Jake couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. This wasn’t his signature cocky smirk though. This was a lovesick smile–one that was dripping with admiration and awe.
“Bob didn’t tell any of us he had a sister,” Jake said. Daisy smiled. 
“He doesn’t tell anybody anything,” she said. “He’s always been quiet.”
“And what about you?” Jake asked. “Did you take after your big brother?” Daisy laughed. 
“Not even a little bit,” she said. “I’m the family rebel,” she told Jake. 
“Let me guess…you went through an emo phase,” Jake guessed. 
“Oh, is it that obvious?” Daisy asked. 
“No, Bob puts on a playlist in the locker room sometimes and I know he doesn’t know anything besides country music. It’s got to be because of you,” he said. 
“Aw, my Bobby Boy still listens to my playlists?” Daisy asked. 
“I guess so,” Jake said with a smile. 
“He always liked the country. It’s how we grew up,” Daisy said. “I like to expand my tastes beyond just what played on the local radio when he drove us to school though.”
“I like country music,” Jake said. “But I’m mostly into classic rock,” he finished. Daisy smiled. 
“Bob says you play ‘Slow Ride’ on the jukebox everytime you go to some bar with him,” Daisy said. Jake blushed. 
“What else does he say about me?” Jake asked. 
“He told me you remind him of me,” she said. Jake grinned. 
“Do you like concerts?” He asked. Daisy smiled shyly. 
“Yeah, live music is great,” she said. 
“There’s a bar downtown that has bands play on Friday nights,” Jake spit out quickly. “Maybe…um, maybe I could take you?” He offered. 
“I don’t see why not,” she said with a smile. Jake grinned. 
“Great. That’s great,” he said, unable to wipe the grin off his face as he looked into her eyes. 
“I’ll give you my phone number before you leave,” she promised. Just then you walked back into the dining room with a tray of lemon bars, Bob trailing behind you with a fresh stack of plates. Everyone ate the lemon bars, throwing compliments your way with every bite. The dagger squad happily stayed to enjoy the night before Bob finally shooed Rooster out of his house, still remaining as he ate all of Bob’s leftovers. Bob turned back to you as he closed the door. You smiled warmly. He crossed the entryway and wrapped his arms around your waist. You raised your arms to rest on his taught chest. 
“I like your friends, Robby,” you told him. Bob smiled and kissed your nose.
“Your little scheme with Hangman seemed like it worked,” Bob commented. 
“You’re the one who told me that if I wanted Daisy to be stationed with us he was the best shot,” you reminded him. Bob chuckled. 
“He couldn’t stop smiling at her,” Bob said. “I’ve never seen him look at a girl like that at The Hard Deck.” 
“That’s because he was looking at her the way you look at me,” you said. Bob smiled softly. 
“And how’s that?” He asked. 
“Like I’m the only thing you care about,” you said. Bob grinned. He leaned down and kissed you lovingly. His lips were warm and strong against yours and you let out a small hum of satisfaction as he leaned away. 
“That’s because you are.”
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