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roosterforme · 4 months

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The Younger Kind Part 44 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley swallows his pride and seeks out a conversation with Admiral Simpson, but he's surprised by the response he gets. You keep everyone on their toes, and you do it so effortlessly, Bradley knows it's time to go shopping. And he uses Skittles as the perfect cover.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, smut, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4000 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

When Bradley parked at work a little early on Monday, he sat in the Bronco for a few extra minutes. He had just witnessed you and Noah making breakfast together, and it was making it really hard to be away from you right now. When he walked into the kitchen, you were brewing coffee and singing the dinosaur song with his son while the two of you spread that weird avocado stuff that you liked so much on some toast. He had started to love it, too, and Noah would eat anything you made.

He removed his aviators and pinched the bridge of his nose. There was so much he wanted to get done this week, including looking at a few engagement rings, but he knew better than to make any sort of excuses to get some time alone. That had nearly backfired on him when he went to get Skittles. He was going to have to get creative somehow.

When he pulled out his phone to call the animal shelter about getting Skittles' cast removed, he froze. Across the parking lot, Nat and Javy were both getting out of his car. "Interesting," he muttered to himself as he watched his best friend groping their coworker, and he grimaced. He'd already seen too much.

"Hello, this is the San Diego shelter. How can I help you?"

Bradley nearly dropped his phone; he'd forgotten he was making the call. "Yeah, hi. I need to schedule an appointment to have my dog's cast removed?"

"Oh! Are you talking about the Yorkie?"

He smiled as he climbed out onto the already hot pavement. "Yeah. Skittles. I'm hoping she has sufficiently healed."

"Why don't you stop in on Wednesday and we can check her out."

"Sounds good, thanks," he replied, following Nat and Javy at a very conservative distance. But apparently he wasn't cautious enough.

"So," Nat sighed once Bradley joined her in the hangar, "you saw Javy and I in the parking lot." It wasn't a question, so he decided to just nod and roll his eyes in response. "Oh, come on, Rooster. I'm just having some fun."

"Look at him," Bradley muttered, glancing to where the man in question was smiling at Nat. "Are you serious right now? You want to make him cry or something?"

Now she was the one rolling her eyes. "I'm not taking advice from you. You're historically terrible at dating."

"I'm doing a pretty good job now," he said, smiling as he thought about you.

"You can't even get Cyclone off your girl."

Bradley covered his face with one big palm. "You noticed that?"

Nat laughed. "Everyone at the botanic gardens on Saturday night noticed that."

"Fuck," he groaned. "If she wasn't so young and so fucking hot, I wouldn't be about to embarrass myself by trying to get him to let me fly in the air show."

She just shook her head as she reached for her helmet and muttered, "Oh, cry me a river."

"Hey." Bradley turned just in time to see Javy greeting the two of them like a puppy looking for Nat's attention. He was honestly worse than Skittles at the moment. "The guys are talking about a beach day this weekend. You know, since the summer is ending."

"We don't need to do another beach day. We live in San Diego," Nat replied as she sipped the coffee she wasn't supposed to have inside the hangar. "It's the same season all year round."

Javy laughed like she was a comedian, and Bradley looked back and forth between the two of them, completely baffled by this dynamic. There's no way you and he made a couple this wild.

"Yeah, but it's still the end of August," Javy said, now smiling at Nat as if she was the most adorable thing in the world. "Rooster, you can bring your girl and your kid. It'll be fun."

"You know what," he replied, "I think I'll go if Nat goes."

Then Bradley strolled away as they started arguing, because he saw Admiral Simpson on his way to the tower. He just needed to get Cyclone alone for a few minutes, swallow his pride, and try to head Jake off for the air show. The opportunity arose after lunch when Bradley caught him checking his phone outside the rec room door.

"Admiral Simpson, sir," he greeted before grinding his back teeth while he thought about you. "May I have a word?"

Cyclone glanced up before pocketing his phone, a look of vague amusement on his face. "Lieutenant. What can I do for you?"

"It's about the upcoming air show. Sir. I was hoping you could tell me if you'd made selections regarding who would be flying in it."

His look of amusement grew. "I have not. I believe that was on my agenda for today or tomorrow." He paused before adding, "I've been meaning to thank you for that glass of bourbon on Saturday night. Woodford Reserve is one of my favorites."

Bradley remained unflinching. Although he had no idea what Admiral Simpson was talking about, he thought it better to simply agree with him. "Yes. The Woodford Reserve."

He nearly took a step backwards when the other man started laughing. "You'll have to thank your girlfriend for me, too. And I'm assuming the reason you're here is because you want to fly in the air show?"

"Yes...sir," Bradley replied slowly, feeling very off balance now that Cyclone was being so agreeable.

Still chuckling, he said, "I'll see what I can do," before turning and walking away.

Once he was out of earshot, Bradley pushed through the door to the rec room as he muttered, "What the fuck was that?"

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

It was almost fun for you to pick Noah up from daycare now. Not that you would ever admit that out loud. But the enjoyment you found in the way Casey pouted at you was a bit of a guilty pleasure, and besides, you got to have Noah greet you like you were the most exciting and interesting person in the world.

"Mommy!" he called out as he ran across the lobby and into your arms. "Guess what my craft is!"

"A dinosaur?" you asked as you shot an extremely fake smile at Casey before heading outside.

"Nope."

"A... dog? Did you make Skittles?" you asked as you put him in your car.

"Nope."

"The solar system?"

"Nope."

"Hmm. Will you give me a hint?" you asked, brushing his soft curls away from his forehead and giving him a kiss. But he was already unzipping his bag and pulling out his newest painting. There was a big, light blue shape that looked like it could have been Bradley's Bronco along with a man who appeared to be sporting a mustache. "Is that Daddy?"

"Yes!"

Then you noticed a little brown blob. "Is that Skittles?"

"Yes! She's his best friend!"

You laughed, because Noah wasn't wrong. Skittles seemed to love Bradley the most, and as much as he tried to fight it, the dog won him over. "She is," you agreed before buckling him in. "She's his best friend besides Aunt Natasha."

Noah shook his head. "She doesn't count, because she's an Aunt."

"Right, right," you said, not wanting to fight his childhood logic when Skittles wasn't even a human. "You're completely right. Should we go home?"

You started singing the dinosaur song as you drove, and because of a detour, you had to drive past the park where Meredith had chased you down. A shiver rippled through your body as you remembered falling and scraping up your arm in your haste to get Noah safely in your car. You hated coming home this way. There was a reason you never did it.

"Mommy, why did you stop singing?"

You glanced in the mirror at Noah's face. "Sorry! Where were we? The part about how the dinosaur stomp, stomp, stomps?"

Bradley was already home when you pulled into the driveway, and you found him dozed off on the couch with Skittles curled up on his chest. Two seconds later, he was jolting awake with the dog in his hand as Noah ran for him. "Daddy! I made you! Out of paint!"

"Cool," Bradley told him, pulling Noah onto his broad chest as well. "And how's Mommy?" he asked, his voice a little raspier just for you. "How was your day, Princess?"

You shook off the last remaining thoughts of Casey and Meredith as you leaned down to kiss him. "Pretty good." He chased your lips for more, but his arms were too full of Noah and Skittles for him to be able to reach for you. "Looks like you're still tired from the weekend," you said with a wink.

"I had a nice conversation with Cyclone today."

"Oh? About what?" you asked as you started to head to the kitchen to make dinner.

His expression remained completely neutral as he told you, "Bourbon. Woodford Reserve, to be specific." When you said nothing, he added, "We can chat about it later."

So you made spaghetti, knowing you'd been found out. You had been tipsy on Saturday night at the retirement party, but you were pretty sure you remembered what you did. Probably. You hoped Bradley wasn't mad at you over it, but he seemed to be in a good mood as he ate dinner and offered to give Noah a bath while you walked Skittles.

She was stubborn for you at first, plopping down on the front porch and whimpering for Bradley while you tugged gently on her leash. "Come on. You're making me look bad! You were my idea. Mine and Noah's." When she remained in her spot, you had to reach into your pocket and say, "Treat?" That did the trick, and you got her to take a slow lap around the block with you while you broke a milkbone into little bites and gave it to her.

When you returned home, Skittles bounded into the house to get to Bradley where he was sitting on the bathroom floor, looking comically enormous with Noah's rubber duck in his hand. You stood in the doorway and watched him automatically reach down to pet the little pup, taking caution with her casted leg while he rinsed the shampoo out of Noah's hair.

"You want to go to the beach this weekend, Bub?" he asked softly. "With Aunt Natasha?"

"Can Skittles come?" Noah asked, and you watched Bradley place a soft kiss on his wet forehead that left you reeling. Suddenly you couldn't wait for Noah to be in bed so you could have him all to yourself.

"Maybe. If she gets her cast off on Wednesday," he replied softly as the dog fully plopped down with her head on his thigh.

"Daddy?" you asked from your spot in the doorway. It was almost a whine, and when he looked up at you, you were certain he knew what you were thinking about by the little smirk on his lips.

He reached into the tub to drain the water as he asked, "Do you need some attention?"

You just nodded, still in your scrubs from work, but you felt too warm now as you pressed your thighs together. "Yes."

"Fifteen minutes, and then you can have it," he replied with an edge to his voice. "Can you wait that long?"

"I can try," you murmured before you turned to go into Noah's room and get his dinosaur pajamas ready. Anything to expedite bedtime. You listened while Bradley took his time reading three stories, and then you kissed Noah's forehead before you tried to pull Bradley toward the hallway.

He chuckled and whispered, "I'll meet you on the couch."

"Oooh, the couch," you said before running from the room. Before you could even decide what you wanted to do, Bradley was behind you wrapping his arms around your waist and tickling your neck with his mustache.

"I kind of miss those nights when I would help you study."

You moaned softly. "Anatomy really is your specialty."

You felt him pull his right hand away from your body, but before you could complain, it reappeared in front of you with a bag of Skittles on his palm. When you spun in his arms and kissed him, you whispered, "You're so sweet."

Bradley lifted you up and took you the few steps to the couch where you settled in straddling his lap while you opened your candy. "If you're this excited about something I picked up at the gas station, I wonder what you'll do if I buy you something a little more expensive."

You met his soft eyes and leaned in to kiss him. "How much more expensive are we talking?" you asked, treating him to the orange Skittle you pulled out of the bag. He parted his lips and you slipped it between them, watching his jaw work as he chewed it up.

"A lot more expensive," he replied as you ate three candies. "Hey, this is a 50/50 relationship here, Princess."

You shoved a small handful into his mouth and kissed his cheeks as he sputtered and chewed. "I'll share everything I have with you. Too bad I don't have much."

Bradley swallowed down the treat and reached for your free hand. "You give me everything I need. Everything I want, too."

You basked in the warmth of his words as your eyes closed, and a welcome heat crept into your cheeks. "I love you."

"Then I think you'll love what I'm planning on buying for you," he whispered as his mustache grazed your chin and jaw.

You grinned, hoping you already knew what he was talking about, but too afraid to say it out loud. So you pushed the thought from your mind and scooted a little closer toward him on his lap. "What's this I'm hearing about a beach day? And Skittles getting her cast off? This is all news to me."

He didn't miss a beat as he wrapped his big hands around your hips and said, "What's this I'm hearing about some bourbon at the retirement party? It's all news to me."

"Oh," you whispered softly before eating more Skittles, buying yourself a little time to think. "Well, you see... I wasn't exactly sober."

"You're joking," he deadpanned.

You rolled your eyes and shoved more candy into his mouth. "I may have had a glass of bourbon sent over to Admiral Simpson, courtesy of Lieutenant Bradshaw and his girlfriend..."

After a few quiet blinks, Bradley's head tipped back in laughter so loud that Skittles the pup came running into the room. "You didn't!" Bradley said. "I have to work with that man!"

"Somebody had to make the big move, Daddy! It cleared the tension!"

He met your eyes, still shaking his head and smirking. "It also made you look like Daddy's good little girl."

Your heart skipped around in your chest at his words, and you set your candy aside in favor of wrapping your arms around his neck. "Am I not? Daddy's good little girl?"

"Oh, you absolutely are," he replied as he lifted your top inch by inch. "I just never thought my boss's boss would see it that way."

You raised your hands up in the air, eager to lose your shirt, but he took his sweet time about it. "Daddy."

"You can be patient," he whispered, smiling when he saw your purple bra. "Pretty." Your top dropped to the floor as he cupped you through the lace, finding your nipples right away. "You feel like going to the beach on Saturday?"

Bradley's lips found the tops of your breasts, and you could no longer formulate real words. You just hummed in response already knowing he was going to take expert care of you right now and on Saturday as well.

"You could wear your purple bikini and tell all the other guys to fuck off," he said as he ran his nose softly along your skin while he unhooked your bra and let it fall next to your top.

"Would you like that?" you asked as your fingers tangled up in his hair. He answered you by nodding as he took your nipple between his lips. Bradley was all big hands on your bare skin and just the perfect amount of roughness. "Oh god," you whined.

And then he had you on your back in the middle of the area rug with his body over yours. His thigh was rubbing you through your thin pants, and you bucked up gently against him as his heavy weight pressed deliciously against your body. "I love you," he grunted as you tugged at his hair.

"I love you so much, Daddy," you gasped as he yanked your pants and underwear down and off, leaving you in only your socks. He fumbled with the front of his pants for just a few seconds before pulling his length free, and you spread your legs wide for him.

His lips and tongue were wet on your neck as you held him close, lost in the domesticity of having sex here now. Just like your first time with him. Right next to the snag in the rug. But this time you could hear Skittles' claws tapping across the kitchen floor, and you could see some of Noah's crayons that had rolled under the couch while Bradley fucked you. You could smell the lingering scent of the pasta sauce from the dinner you made. You could taste Bradley's now familiar tongue as it met yours. And you could feel his rough hands on your hips and belly where he'd now touched you hundreds of times.

You fell in love with the flood of familiarity he brought to your senses, and it left you smiling up at him when he broke the kiss. "Jesus," he grunted, cupping one cheek in his hand. You kissed the side of his thumb as he stroked your skin, and you watched him slowly come undone for you. "I'll get you there," he promised, changing his angle so he rubbed your clit with each movement.

Just like the first time, he filled you up as soon as you came, and your name was all over his lips as you smiled at the lost crayons before closing your eyes. Bradley collected you against his body as he eased himself down onto his side, and you sighed contentedly. You held onto his wrist as he ran his hand along your hair and kissed you. In that moment you would have agreed to anything he said.

"Baby, I'll be a little late on Wednesday night. I have to take Skittles to get her cast off, and then I need to stop at the store."

You hummed softly in response, pressing your lips to his. "Sounds good."

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

The only time Bradley heard from you on Wednesday was when you told him that one of your patients came in with an emergency, and you wanted to let him know you'd be helping Dr. Kelly with a minor surgical procedure. He was excited for you, but he didn't want to bother you. Even though he had good news.

"Congrats," Jake drawled in the locker room after a very long day of flying. "Don't know how you managed to pull this one off, but I heard you're flying in the air show."

Bradley ran his towel over his chest before tossing it into his locker. "Thanks," he grunted, trying not to smile. He'd be able to take you on the tour of the hospital with him, and then you and Noah could watch him fly. His son had never seen him in the air before, and it gave Bradley goosebumps knowing that the two of you would be able to do that together.

Jake gave him one last appraising look before he got dressed. Honestly, it was probably the fact that you upped the ante with Cyclone that Bradley was chosen over the others. Perhaps now things could be called even. You managed to keep everyone on their toes in the best way, and it made him smile even now.

You were in rare form this week, luring him in for living room floor sex when there was a perfectly new bed in the bedroom. And then last night, you got him to watch a Disney princess movie with you, even after Noah was in bed, and Bradley had begrudgingly enjoyed it. You were laying across his lap on your back when the end credits rolled, and you said, "If you're a good boy, I'll make you beignets just like Princess Tiana."

Bradley had smirked. "Do those have cream filling?"

"No," you whispered as he eased your shirt up so his palm was flat on your belly.

"Do you want some?"

He had been thinking about getting you pregnant as he made you bury your face in the couch pillows to keep you quiet.

And that was just one of the many reasons he was about to leave work and head home to grab Skittles before stopping at the jewelry store across town. If Casey managed to bump into there and ruin this surprise as well, he would probably lose his mind. But the jeweler near the animal shelter was one of the best in the city, so that was where he would go.

Bradley awkwardly held Skittles while he drove, and eventually she curled up with her head on his thigh while he sat in traffic. She seemed to be doing great, so he hoped that was a good sign that the cast could come off. You and Noah were delighted with her, and she somehow made Bradley fall in love, too.

"Yeah, you're sweet," he told her, scratching her behind the ears while he drove. He parallel parked the Bronco with one hand while he continued to pet her, and when he took her inside the shelter, he held onto her a little tighter. It was hard to believe she'd been here just a few weeks ago, completely unwanted.

Bradley pressed kisses to the top of her head as he waited for the receptionist to finish her phone call. When she hung up, she asked, "And who do we have here?"

"Skittles Bradshaw," he replied, nuzzling his nose against her fur and wondering how on earth he had gotten so attached to this little pup. "Hopefully she can get her cast off today."

He only had to wait a few minutes, and then he watched as they examined her before cutting into the cast plaster. Once she was free, Skittles took a few tentative steps across the exam table, and then she jumped right back into Bradley's arms.

After he paid the monstrous bill for such a small creature, he carried her down the sidewalk, enjoying the cooling temperature as the sun set. When he checked his phone, he saw that you'd finally texted him again.

My Princess: Noah and I are going to play at the park near the beach. Leftovers when you get home?

He typed out a quick message letting you know that sounded perfect. Thoughts of you and Noah together filled his mind as he entered the jewelry store, and two women looked up at him and Skittles. "Is it okay if I have her in here?" he asked, but they both immediately rushed over, practically screeching about how cute his dog was. Honestly, the pet would have probably worked out better than the dating app had for him.

"What are you looking for?" the first woman asked as she petted Skittles on her head.

A soft smile made its way to his lips as he said, "An engagement ring."

"Oh! Of course, let's just head over here to see what you like best. Do you have anything specific in mind?"

Bradley followed behind her as he nodded and said, "A princess cut diamond."

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A princess for a Princess. Also, there is no way Skittles wouldn't be a magnet for all the ladies. A big man with a small dog... just fuck. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 45

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

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M.U.R.P.H // Bradley Bradshaw

Summary: An undisclosed pregnancy that you and your husband try keeping a secret ends up being the reason you end up in hospital during a PTI session with the Dagger Squad.

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: Pregnancy. Bradley Bradshaw x F!reader. Mild Angst.

Author Note: Happy Saturday! This is pretty self indulgent but I final finished this one-shot that’s been in my drafts forever.

“Alright team.” Pete Mitchell, although overworked and severely underpaid for the crap he put up with–grinned ear to ear at his group of elite Naval Aviators who sat before him after debriefing this morning's training exercise. “As you know, this weekend is Memorial Day weekend and the Admirals have decided to get a jump start on the events.”

“Are we getting a long weekend?” Fanboy beamed hopefully as he sat up a little straighter. “Please tell me we’re getting a long weekend—“ He hoped that if he asked with enough conviction in his voice the answer would be yes. However, he hadn’t noticed you standing at the back of the room. A protective hand over your barely visible baby bump. Waiting for the right moment to make your presence known. Bob had noticed though—he was already dreading what was to come. He hated Memorial Day. Not because he didn’t want to pay respects to those who had fallen, no. He’d honour the fallen every damn day if he had to.

So long as he didn’t have to participate in Murph.

You’d been his PTI during his time in Lamoore. You were the first Bradshaw he’d met and before he later Met Bradley Bradshaw and put two and two together that the two of you were married–nothing had ever made more sense.

Bob’s heart had sunk into his ass when he found out you were being transferred to North Island. You were somewhat of a hard task master when it came to gruelling training sessions and Memorial Day always gave you free rein to send anyone packing with their tail between their legs if they couldn’t keep up.

You were, however, a solid friend. When you weren’t working, you were the life of the party. The brightest smile in the room and always the one who everyone gravitated towards. Much like Bradley, you two always seemed to get the party started. Whether it was playing great balls of fire and singing at the top of your lungs—or starting an important dart night that saw a permanent tally board hung up beside the much too loved dartboard. There had been a time or two where you’d challenged the strongest of the bunch to an arm wrestle—Bob was always the first to bow at your bark. Not one to challenge anything you said, hell he’d do just about anything you told him to do….

So long as he didn’t have to participate in Murph.

Bob had never been one to believe in soulmates before he saw you and Bradley together, he’d never met two people more suited for each other. But neither of you needed to hear that from him–you’d already managed to figure that out on your own.

“No, Fanboy—“ Maverick sighed as he gestured for you to make your way to the front of the class. “No you aren’t getting a long weekend, what you are getting though, is a killer workout with PTI Bradshaw.” You heard the mixed reviews your introduction received. You’d only just recently finished running annual fitness testing for those who needed to be re-evaluated. So the idea of yet another gruelling workout tossed their way wasn’t what some of the aviators had in mind for a head start on the weekend.

Jake Seresin and Javy Machado however? Oh they were wrapped. They loved a challenge—they adored you and they certainly came over the challenges you loved to hand out.

“Morning everyone.” You beamed as you handed Rooster, you beloved husband, who sat in the front row with a soft grin, a pile of papers. “Take one and pass them along please Lieutenant Bradshaw.” Your fingers lingered across Bradley’s for a few seconds as he smiled softly back at you with heart shaped eyes. He always thought you looked so different with your hair pulled back into a ridiculously tight bun. Your uniform made you look so different, nothing like what you looked like at the Hard Deck with your hair out and mum jeans on. Sitting beside him at the piano playing great balls of fire. A Margarita in your hand and his glasses over your beautiful eyes. Nothing like what you looked like tucked into his side, hair splayed every which way and silk pyjamas adorning your beautiful body.

“Physical Training Instructors play a key role in developing and maintaining the health, fitness and well-being of our airmen. In the United States Navy, physical fitness is absolutely essential in maintaining good health and overall wellbeing.” Pete Mitchell had been required to say that little statement prior to any session he handed over to you. “Regardless of Rank, PTI “Agony” Bradshaw will be your superior for the next two hours—with that I hand you over.”

“Thanks Mav.” You chuckled, appreciating the way you were so respected by the veteran aviator. PTI’s didn’t always have the best wrap—so when Maverick commanded the attention of everyone in the room on your behalf it gave you a little more confidence each and every time. “Alright flyboys—“ You teased, turning your attention to Phoenix so you could address her too. “And Flygirl, today we’re doing MURPH—“

Your declaration was met with a choir of dismay and disapproval from at least half of the team that sat before you. Suddenly their shoulders were a little more slouched and their faces plastered with existential dread when they started reading over the workout plan you'd had Bradley pass back. No one liked doing MURPH, except maybe Jake Seresin.

“Ma’am, I think that sounds like a great idea—“ Hangman sent you one of his thousand watt grins as he played with the toothpick that sat between his teeth. “Don’t you think your wife here comes up with some banger ideas, Rooster?” Bradley did think you had some good ideas, he wasn't going to let you know that though–if he did he knew his workouts, his Personal Training sessions and his Fitness Testing would just increasingly get harder and harder. It had only been by the skin of his goddamn nose that you passed his last Multi-Stage Fitness Test. Bradley Bradshaw was a hunk and with that meant he himself was not the most aerodynamic of the bunch–Bob had passed with flying colours, although you did nearly force him to restart his push-ups again when you caught him cheating on range.

“She told me what she had planned last night Hangman, I’m ready to go, brought my pre workout in my bag and everything—“ Rooster just sighed as he leaned back in his chair, spreading his legs as he brought his hands up to rest behind his head. “Piece of cake.”

“I have never heard anyone say MURPH is a piece of cake.” Phoenix groaned. “Aggie, please–”

“I don't make the rules, Lieutenant, I just enforce them.” You had gotten used to the love-hate relationship and animosity you received while you were in uniform, it was your job to make sure none of the navy’s finest aviators let their fitness fall to the wayside. “Now for those who don't know what MURPH is, i'll explain quickly then you can all take twenty to change, refuel, and meet me over in the gym.” As you pulled out the empty chair that sat vacant next to your husband, you used it as a footstool before propping yourself up on the desk. Clearing your throat before reading out the workout explanation on the sheet you'd distributed.

“M.U.R.P.H is a hero WOD dedicated to Michael P. Murphy, the first service member to receive the Medal of Honor for service in Afghanistan, during a Memorial Day event on Bagram Airfield, Afghanistan, May 24, 2015.” Although there were more people sitting before you who didn't like the idea of such a gruelling workout, they did respect the fallen. “Michael's favourite workout was dedicated to him after his passing and thus, will be your workout today.” You felt the stomachs of everyone, all but Jake And Javy who just sat a little straighter in their chairs, drop.

“Today you will complete a one mile run, 100 pull-ups, expected to be chest to bar, 200 push-ups, 300 bodyweight squats, and to finish up we’ll run another mile.” Bradley crept a hand around your calf, thumbing your uniform as he squinted his eyes and bit his bottom lip, hoping you wouldn't add anything else to the list…..He should have known better. But he couldn't hold a grudge against you–not when you were four months pregnant and glowing. You were hiding your pregnancy well, it wasn't that you didn't want your friends and family to know, it's just you wanted to revel in the experience with Bradley for a little while longer before telling everyone you were both expecting. “Usually the twenty pound weight vest would be optional, but boys and girls you are some of the Navy’s finest Aviators, so you will all complete this course while wearing a twenty pound vest, none-notable people.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~*

In the locker room, Nomex Flight Suits had been discarded for workout gear. Standard issue work boots had been replaced by trainers, and any and all standards of professionalism had gone out the window. It was the one thing everyone actually did enjoy about having you as their PTI, you weren’t big on formality. As long as respect was there you couldn’t give a rats ass about if people swore at you or razzed you. It made the job just a little bit more enjoyable.

The last thing anyone wanted to do while they were working out was keep a rigid and professional persona.

“Man, sometimes I hate your wife.” Phoenix grumbled as the group walked out of the locker room with towels slung over their shoulders and copious amounts of pre-workout scooped into shakers. Bradley couldn't help but to laugh, he loved you so much, the wedding band wrapped around his ring finger was there to prove it. The tattoos of your name on his left ass cheek was also there to prove it.

“I wouldn't let her hear you say that.” Bradley paused as he took a swig of his pre-workout before handing it to Jake who looked like he was pumping himself up for the fight of his life. “She’ll ‘accidentally’ forget to count your reps and make you start again.”

“This is surely a form of torture–” Fanboy added as he trailed behind with Bob.

“It's a hero WOD Fanboy–respect the dead.” Jake hissed, he was as keen as, the only one in the group who hadnt had a negative thing to say about your workout plan. “I don't know why you guys aren't more excited.”

“Unlike you Hangman, most of us aren't gluttons for punishment.” Payback teased as he came to sling an arm around Jake's shoulders. “Or degradation, considering the unholy things I've seen in your search history.” Jake and Bradley had grown closer in the past few years that saw them in North Island permanently, there had been more times than you could count where the two of them would stumble back to your humble abode, drunk out of their minds. There had even been a time or two where you'd caught them spooning on the couch when Rooster couldn't take the stairs in his drunken state.

“None of which compare to what Bradsaw probably cops in the bedroom.” Jake was quick to turn the attention back on Rooster, sending him a smirk over his shoulder as he took a quick sip of the pre-workout they were sharing and handed it over. “Huh Rooster? Agony probably has you wrapped around her little finger.” It was no secret amongst the group that you were a power house PTI, you didn’t dish out any workout you couldn't do with your eyes closed, something that the Daggers really valued about you was your integrity. You were honest and kind and above all, you levelled with them. You weren't a hypocrite and you, as much as you hated your job some days, the constant pressure, the delayed onset muscle soreness, the gruelling workouts and the sweat, you led by example and practised what you preached.

That didnt mean you and Bradley wouldn't reserve Friday nights for takeout and chocolate.

“That she does.” Was all Bradley replied with, “Have you fucking seen her? She’d kick my ass any day of the week if I gave her any ounce of crap.” He was without a shadow of a doubt whipped, but Bradley had always been that way with you–ever since he met you at his first water survival training weekend, he was down bad. He’d been assigned to your little group that first Saturday and you sent his heart into the stratosphere the first time you smiled at him. He was still unsure if it had ever come back or if your unconditional love and admiration just kept it hovering in the ozone layer.

“She looks like she's glowing.” Bob remarked as the group mixed with nervousness, existential dread and far too much ego radiating of one particular member made their way across the tarmac to the base gym you could be found in any given day of the week. It was your home away from home. Kitted out with state of the art equipment, a spacious and functional environment that was welcoming and motivating. “She's far too excited about this, oh my god.”

Bradley knew you were glowing, but he also knew it wasn't because you were excited. He knew that it was because of the little one growing inside you, a mix of him and you. He kind of hoped it was a boy, but everyone always told him he’d make a good girl dad. Regardless–he just wanted to be a dad, his biggest achievement by far would be being a good dad.

“She really is.” Bradley beamed as he heard the unmistakable tune of AJR’s Burn The House Down blasting through your speakers, reading over the workout plan one final time as you sat on the sled track, legs sprawled as you hummed away in your own little word. Twirling the pen you held in your hand absentmindedly, Bradley’s voice brought you out of your concentration. Alerting you that the team was ready to be put through their paces. “We’re hear for your torture session, Agony, don’t hold back on Hangman though, he’s been gloating since, well–forever really.” Bradley teased as he offered you a gentle hand, helping you rise up from the felt sled track. You immediately felt a dizziness unparalleled to anything you'd ever experienced before. So much so you fought off the urge to succumb to the feeling of descent as you stumbled and stammered for a second.

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, Lieutenant.” You smiled, exhaling as you steadied your equilibrium. Bradley caught on immediately that you were feeling slightly uneasy, placing a soft hand against the small of your back as you cleared your throat and rolled up your sleeves a little. “Alright, So I’ve measured out half a mile along the airfield, so it's half a mile to and half a mile back– You can either run the tarmac or use the treadmill.” You explained to everybody standing around listening in to what you had to say.

“Can we break up the reps Y/n?” Payback asked as he shouldered Bob, forcing him to lose his footing slightly, stumbling for a second as he sent Payback look. “Or is it strictly 100, 200, 300?”

“I don't care what you guys do so long as you get it done.” Your tone made Fanboy shiver, you could be a hard task master when you wanted to be. “Start warming up and we’ll get this show on the road.” Bradley was quick to sneak a peck on the cheek when the group started to disperse, all except for Hangman a little on edge about what was to come.

“You feeling alright darlin?” He cooed, walking with you over to your desk where you’d left your water bottle.

“Your baby is the size of a pear at the moment and she's already giving me a hard time.” Neither you nor Bradley wanted to know if you were having a boy or a girl, you wanted it to be a surprise, both having made lists that kept growing with names galore. “I'm just starting to feel really sluggish, which is hard to hide when I'm usually the energiser bunny on base.”

“Dr. Richards did say you’d need to pull back a little the further along you get baby." It was hard to accept that you would eventually have to slow down, up until about two weeks ago you had been fine, apart from the morning sickness you had dealt with in the first trimester. Bradley respected your boundaries when you were both at work, knowing professionalism in the workplace was important to you, however–that didn't stop him from discreetly placing a gentle hand atop your stomach, finding the small baby bump hiding under your work uniform. The camo green fabric warping around your naval under his palm. “But that doesn't mean you're not any less capable, just means you’re growing our little boy which in my opinion, is pretty spectacular.”

“Just means we’ll need to tell everyone sooner rather than later Roo.” You sighed, taking a sip of your water, not knowing that Phoenix had spotted the gentle touch of your husband's hand resting on your stomach for a brief moment. Her eyes wide in shock as her jaw slacked slightly. Phoenix though, the master of recovery, disguised her surprise when you turned around to round up the gang that were all in the process of warming up in some way shape or form. “Alright, we can stagger the start for those who aren't warm enough–” You side eyed Bradley as he scoffed at you, leaving your side to join his colleagues. “

“Let's go boys and girl, we’re doing Murph baby!” Jake hollered out, clapping his hands down on Javys shoulders, pumping each other up as you laughed, a smile creeping across your face. “Bradshaw! You gonna try keep up with the big boys?”

“Think I might taxi with Bob.” Bradley replied, jogging on the spot before giving his lower back a little twist side to side. Bob just rolled his eyes, to the untrained eye he was the kind of guy who kept his shirt on during beach days, but he thoroughly enjoyed cardio. If Rooster's plan had been to taxi with him during the mile run he was in for a rude shock, but Bob knew he was gonna lose time in the pull-up department. “You ready to go man?”

“As ready as I'll ever be for this kind of workout.” Bob groned. “If I say I twisted my ankle now, do I still have to participate?” The group all laughed at the near winge that left Bob's mouth, he really wasn't up for this today–but what you came back with made the gym explode with boisterous laughter.

“If you dont be careful Lieutenant Floyd l’ll pack an extra pound into your weight vest.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Phoenix saw her opportune moment to strike about half way through the first half mile. Bradley was starting to show a red hume across his face, a thin layer of sweat had started to form across his forehead and Phoenix knew that if he was focusing hard enough on keeping his pace steady with one foot in front of the other, she knew he was in no position to formulate a lie.

“So–Bradshaw.” Phoenix started as she came up to jog beside Rooster. “How far along is she?”

“How far along is who?” Bradley replied as he kept his head straight, focused on the marker up ahead that indicated the turn around point. Watching as Jake and Javy booked it around one another, racing ahead of the rest of the group who had all opted to taxi their way through this.

“Agony, she's pregnant.” Phoenix spoke with such conviction that Bradley found it near impossible to try and formulate a lie that would cover up the truth of the matter. “I saw you put your hand on her stomach, and I know you wouldnt do that if she wasnt pregnant.”

“She's feeling a little off today, little spud is kicking her around a little.” It was all the conformation Phoenix needed to let out a little squeal as she beamed at Rooster, smacking him in the shoulder. “Ow!”

“Why would you keep this from us! Rooster! That's amazing, congratulations!”

“We just wanted to enjoy it for a while, just us, we haven't even told her parents yet.” Bradley explained as he made it to the turnabout point with Phoenix, both keeping each other's pace. “She's four months, we don't wanna know the sex, but everything is going the way it should, doc said she’ll need to start pulling back soon though.”

“Ah, so thats why she isn’t participating in the torture.” Phoenix had picked up on the fact you weren’t participating today, she thought it was odd that you weren't but wasn't about to question it. She was scared you'd match her attitude and give her an extra 100 push ups. “Mrs Bradshaw is knocked up.”

“Yeah.” Bradley chuckled, he liked the sound of that. “I had to beg her not to last night when I saw the MURPH file sitting out on the dining table, got down on my knees and everything.”

“You couldn't have just talked her out of the whole plan entirely?” Phoenix whined, starting to feel a little more puffed from talking as she jogged with Bradley. Starting to really feel herself warming up.

“Oh trust me, I tried that too.” Bradley explained, laughing as he remembered how that conversation ended. “She seduced me just to get me to shut up.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

By the time Rooster and Phoenix got back to the hanger turned gym, Jake and Javy were already going ten reps for ten reps with their pull ups. Bob, Fanboy and Payback were just standing there, watching as they caught their breath and waited for Rooster and Phoenix to return.

“Alright ladies, now that everyones back, there's no rest for the wicked.” You turned up the volume on the speaker you stood by before making your way over. “Lets hussle, clocks still ticking and the faster you get this done the less time you have to spend here with me.”

Fanboy groaned as he turned to Bob, sharing a painful look of ‘I'm over this already.’

“How are you gonna break this up, Roo?” You cooed, coming to stand by your husband as you watched Payback and Phoenix get to work on the rig, everyone was working on their pull ups first. “If it was me i'd do ten at a time.”

“I think I should be able to manage twenty-five at a time.” He smiled, mumbling under his breath in your ear as he leaned in to kiss your earlobe. “Phoenix knows you're pregnant by the way.”

“What!?” You gasped. “How did she find out! You said we weren’t gonna tell anyone yet?”

“Saw me touch your stomach before, figured it was a little sus.” Bradley cooed. “I'm sorry.”

“No, no don't be, it was bound to happen sooner or later.” You accepted the reality, watching as your group worked through their reps, taking notice of Bob who was severely lacking in his rep range. “Floyd! Chin to bar!”

“Yeah Bob, chin to bar.” Hangman added, laughing with that thousand watt grin he was known for. “Bradshaw! Stop trying to flirt your way out of this!”

“That's my cue.” Bradley groaned, throwing his head back as he ran his hands through sweat covered locks. “Play nice please.”

“Nope, hop to it Lieutenant–” You bit back, biting your bottom lip as you cautiously and ever so discreetly slapped Bradley on the arse, watching as you sauntered away with a little more pep in his step.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“I feel like my arms are gonna pop off!” Next was the push ups. Mickey groaned as he did his set of twenty as you came to kneel beside him. “You’re a vicious and cruel woman.”

“Well I guess Agony is rather fitting, isn't it Fanboy?” you questioned through a soft laugh as you pressed a hand between his shoulder blades. “Retract your scaps, you're relying too much on your triceps, put the pressure through your chest and your longevity will increase.”

“If i wasn't so mad i'd say thankyou.” He groaned, keeping on keeping on with his reps. As soon as he was done, Rooster started his, same as Payback.

“Hmm, I'll take it.” You ruffled Mickey's hair, wiping the sweat you collected onto the thigh of your pants as you stood, feeling light headed as you rose too quickly. “Oh–” Your vision blurred momentarily as a slight ringing in your ears rang out, you tried to breathe through it, but you couldn't catch the feeling.

“Hey Aggie, you okay?” It was Hangman who noticed that you were looking a little unsteady at first, but as soon as the words were leaving his mouth? You were going down. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head as the dizziness from standing too quickly took over you entirely. “Oh shit!” It normally wouldn't have been an issue, but you'd been feeling a little unsteady all day. “Y/n–” Hangman was quick to move to break your fall, catching you in his arms before you could hit the ground. “Rooster! Get over here will ya?” Jake called out, Bradley hadnt seen you fall, he was too busy focusing on his push-ups. “It's Y/n.”

“What's wrong?” Bradley asked as he stood, noticing you passed out in Jake's arms. “Oh my god, hey–” He cooed, tapping your cheek softly as he crouched beside you on the other side of Jake, the whole ordeal had grabbed the attention of all the aviators you had in your gym. “Hey, darling, you okay? Open your eyes for me baby.”

You did, slowly, fluttering your eyelids with a soft groan as you tried to sit up, still feeling dizzy.

“Woah–easy there killer, what's going on? I've never seen you pass out like that before.” Although Jake was technically addressing you, Bradley held a palm to your forehead as he pressed his lips together, watching as you struggled to focus on what was going around you.

“She’s pregnant–” The gym went completely silent at Bradley’s major announcement. “I gotta get her to the hospital in case there's something wrong.”

“Bradley, I'm fine.” You tried to reason with your husband as he scooped you up and into his arms, waiting for you to wrap your arms around his neck before he stood. “I promise, I just felt a little light headed is all.”

“Yeah, no I don't care, we’re getting you checked out.” There was a distinct shift in Bradley’s tone, before he was playful, enjoying the workout as much as he could but now? He was as serious as ever, nothing was more important to him than you, his family.

“Bradley, I'm in the middle of instructing a class.” Again you tried to defend the unnecessary need to go get checked out. You really didn’t feel like it was that big of an issue. “I can’t just leave? Everyone needs—“ Before you could finish, Bradley was interrupting.

“Guys? you good?” Bradley turned around, addressed the totally stunned and flabbergasted group who just looked at him like he’d just dropped a major bomb on them. That his wife was expecting, you were gonna be a mother, and he, Bradley Rooster Bradshaw, was gonna be a dad. “You know what you’re doing don't you?”

“Uh, yeah–” Bob started.

“We’re good.” Payback stammered.

“We’ll be fine, just go make sure everything’s okay.” Phoenix added.

“What do you mean Y/n’s pregnant!?” Hangman asked, standing there with wide eyes and a confused expression. Bradley didn’t respond, he simply turned on his heels and continued on his way, carrying you over to the admin building on base to get you checked out.

“Do I need to have the sex education talk with you Seresin?” Phoenix teased. “Did your parents never give you the birds and the bees talk?” Jake just sent her a look.

“You fucking knew didnt you?” He called Phoenix on her cool calm and collected manor. Something was up.

“Only for like twenty more minutes than you.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“Take a picture, it’ll last long.” You pouted from your position on the hospital bed, hooked up to a heart rate monitor. Bradley sat beside you, hand in yours as he just stared at you. Trying to get a read on how you were actually feeling because he knew you weren’t telling him the truth.

“Woah, that was incredibly rude, Mrs Bradshaw.” Bradley teased as he let go of your hand, leaning back in the chair he sat perched in. stretching his arms up over his head, enough so that the bottom of his shirt pulled up, exposing his lower abdomen for a second. An incredible sight. “I'm just doing what any good husband would do, you know, making sure your health is in top priority.”

“I'm A Personal Training Instructor for the United States Navy.” You reminded your husband, deadpanning him as you swirled your palm across your stomach. Stupid hospital gown covering your small bump. “Uncle Sam pays me to make sure you keep your health in tip top shape, it's not the other way around.” Bradley sent you a childish lok as his snickered back at you as you stuck your tongue out at him. “Listen, I’m fine, I'm just not used to my equilibrium being so off, I got up too quick and lost my balance, I'm fine.”

“Why don't we let the doctor be the judge of that?” Bradley sighed, leaning forward as he rose from his seat to kiss your cheek. You just accepted the loving gesture as he cupped your cheeks, swiping the pad of his thumb across your cheek. “I just worry about you, because I love you and if anything ever happened to you I wouldn't be able to forgive myself for not doing enough when I could have.”

“Good thing I love you more huh?” You cooed, watching as Bradley sat back down as Doctor Richard’s entered the room.

“That my dear, is not possible.” Rooster just managed to get his reply in before Doctor Richards smiled.

“Well the good thing is there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with bubs from the ultrasound.” She explained as she read through your chart. “But it seems as though you’re experiencing some bouts of low blood pressure Mrs Bradshaw.”

“Low blood pressure?” Bradley questioned. “That can just happen? Y/n doesn’t have low blood pressure?” He was right, you didn’t, but you seemed to have it now.

“I can assure you Mr. Bradshaw it’s a very common occurrence during the first twenty four weeks of pregnancy, I wouldn’t be too alarmed as long as you manage it.” Doctor Richards addressed you as you sat up a little straighter in your bed.

“How would you like me to do that Doc?” You asked with a sigh, it wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy being pregnant. You did and you were so excited for your little one to arrive. What was annoying though was the fact you had been told to slow down, take things easy, enjoy the time you had with your baby. You were naturally a physically active person. Slowing down just wasn’t in your DNA.

“Take it easy. Try to slow down a little? I understand you’re a PTI? Perhaps avoiding strenuous activity for the time being will help.” Doctor Richards explained. “Try to avoid making sudden movements, like standing up too quickly. It shouldn’t be a long term thing but for now? Monitor your systems, drink plenty of water to stay hydrated to increase your blood volume.”

“Aye aye captain.” You groaned, saluting Dr. Richards as you slumped a little. Rooster caught onto your bad mood instantly, deciding to take over the conversation for you.

“We’ll do our best Doc, thanks for checking up on her.”

“Anytime—I’ll have your charts done up and send a discharge notice to the ladies at Reception.” She explained before leaving the room, giving you and Bradley a moment alone. He was silent as you walked Ike’s at him. Expecting him to say he told you so.

“You feelings alright?” He asked softly.

“I’m fine—just need a moment to truly process that my career is over.” You groaned, lying back as you faught of tears, it was the hormones, but not really. You just knew this day was coming.

“What are you talking about?” Bradley asked, concern lacing his tone of voice as he sat as close to you as he possibly could. “Darlin—?”

“If I can’t train, I can’t tell others to train. I can’t be a hypocrite.” You explained as tears fell down your cheeks. “I’ll go on maternity leave and lose my strength, my endurance, my body is already changing and I can only imagine what it’ll be like after having this beautiful baby.” You were well aware how crazy you sounded but it’s how you felt. “Bradley, I hope you don’t take this as me not loving every single moment of this because I am—“ You sobbed as Braldey held your hand and brought it to his lips. “I’m just scared of how becoming a mother is gonna affect the career I worked so hard to build.”

“I understand baby.” Bradley tried his best to console you, he wasn’t going to tell you that none of what you were worried about was going to happen. He knew that there was a possibility it could. It had happened to other women before you and it would certainly happen after. “But if anyone can manage being a wonderful, caring mother and a fierce, incredibly talented career woman it’s you.”

“You think so?” You couldn’t help but to scoff lightly through your tears as you turned your head to look at your husband, so thankful for his every strong presence and support.

“Honey I know so, we’ll do whatever it takes to get you right back to where you were before this little one came along.” He smiled, helping you sit up. “But let’s focus on you now? Alright, keep that blood pressure from dropping, keep you healthy and happy mama.”

“Oh god!” You remembered the fact Bradley had mentioned to every single Dagger that you were pregnant. “Oh my god Roo, they’re gonna tackle us!” You leaned forward into your husband's chest as he laughed and kissed the top of your head. “I guess we better get back and get it over with huh?”

“Yeah, better to rip the Band-Aid off fast than to drag it out.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

By the time you got back to base, the entire Dagger Squad was waiting back in the rec room. When you and Bradley entered cautiously, they all stood up as if they were expecting life altering news.

“Is everything alright?” Bob asked, you never thought his eyes could get any bigger—but as he looked at you with hope filled eyes, you knew you’d been wrong.

“Everything’s fine.” You smiled, wrapping your arm around Rooster's torso. Pulling him close as he sighed and filled in the gaps.

“Mum and Bub are doing well, just got a little low blood pressure to manage but other than that? Everything else seems to be just fine.” Everyone went quiet, all silently thanking the heavens above and those in it that nothing major had occurred. Until Fanboy said what everyone was thinking—

“Can we go back to the part where you’re pregnant and didn’t tell any of us?”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

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

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k9effect · 5 months

Text

I thought about Mav passed out at his work desk with headphones on and it spiralled into this whole thing

Mav always felt a little lonely.

Even when he had people around him who loved him, he always ended up on his own one way or another and felt that loneliness seeping in. Goose was the first to notice. Before Goose's trips back to Tennessee to see Carole included Mav, he would come back to base to hear about how his pilot had lost a bit of his shine while he was away.

That's when Goose started making the recordings.

It was a small gift, but it meant the world to Mav. A brand new walkman, headphones and all, and a single cassette tape. This tape didn't have music on it, no, it contained a three hour recording of Goose reading though the F-14 Tomcat Flight Manual and adding in his own comedic commentary.

He wasn't sure what Mav would think of it, but when he returned home from another trip and found his pilot curled up asleep on the lounge, headphones on, walkman clutched in his hands, the tape run through, he realised he had made the right decision. Once Mav stirred, realising Goose had returned, he pulled the RIO onto the couch and thanked him for how thoughtful and considerate of a gift it was. That it made him feel less alone.

Goose continued the recordings. They were simple things he could make while completing other work. An hour recording here of Goose rambling while he completed chores, half an hour recording there of Goose muttering while he completes some paperwork. Even after Mav started joining him on his trips to Carole and they inevitably became attached at the hip, Goose continued making recordings. They grew more sincere over time, telling Mav that he was loved and he was strong and could get through anything.

Maverick was very glad he continued making them. It was a piece of Goose he could always carry with him.

Because one day, Goose wasn't there anymore.

Ice was never quite certain why his wingman was always listening to music on a busted walkman, but he never questioned it.

That was until he was packing Mav an overnight bag after an accident and Mav had specifically requested the walkman. Ice had taken a closer look at it and seen the writing on the cassette.

‘GOOSE - 12’

Curiosity got the better of him and he pulled on the headphones and pressed play.

“Y'know, Mav-” It was Goose's voice, Ice realised with a pang deep in his chest, “- I'm pretty sure, by like, most, if not all, the laws of aviation, you should have broken our Tomcat's airframe several times over. I honestly don't know how she's still together-” There was the clinking of dishes and sloshing of water along with the distinct sound of a bristly, sudsy brush scrubbing metal. “- What sort of demon did you make a deal with to manage this? I'm not arguing, I'd rather not face a board of inquiry again, but I'm curious.”

Ice paused it.

He realised very quickly what the cassette was and that, judging on the number, there were more of these.

Mav was always listening to Goose talk.

He packed the walkman into the overnight bag with much more care than he offered possibly anything.

Mav stared.

He blinked once, then twice. But it changed nothing.

There was a cassette sitting on his bed. On it, was scribbled a name and a number.

‘ICE - 1’

Beneath it was a small, simple note.

‘Listen to me.’

Mav pushed the cassette into his walkman and, sitting down, let it play.

“Hey, Mav. Sorry if this is weird for you, it sure feels weird for me. I- uh- I realised what the walkman is for. I'm sorry I teased you for it, it's not dumb and old. I know Slider thought you were pretty cool for having one. He's got one too. But anyways, I found a recording of Goose and I realised why you have this so I thought, y'know, maybe I could make you some new ones? To make up for the teasing at least. I mightn't be as good as Goose but I'll give it my best shot. I've got a book here, I'm just gonna read it out loud for a while, okay? Okay. Here we go…”

Mav listened to the whole thing in one sitting. It was long and sweet and Mav felt something aching inside him, something that hadn't ached in a long time.

Every week or so, Mav would find another cassette in his room with an increased number on it. It was just Ice for a while, but then he found one labelled ‘SLIDER - 1’. Then another a few months later labelled ‘HOLLYWOOD - 1’, then ‘WOLFMAN - 1’. His collection grew as more people helped continue Goose's legacy.

The day he found ‘VIPER - 1’ he felt like he was five again. Viper's recording was two hours worth of him recounting childhood stories of Mav, stories of him with his parents, of just his parents, and deployment tales of his dad.

Once Mav buys his first proper home, an old hangar out in the Mojave Desert, he builds a small shelf to hold all of his cassettes instead of keeping them in a bag or a box. It's then, when they're all neatly organised together, that he realises just how many he has.

The original thirty-one from Goose.

Three from Carole.

One short one from Bradley.

Seventeen from Iceman.

Ten from Slider.

Seven each from Hollywood and Wolfman.

Four from Chipper.

Three from Sunny.

And, so far, Two from Viper.

He doesn't feel so lonely anymore. Everyone he loves has put time and effort into making sure he doesn't feel alone. That instead, he feel loved.

And he sure does.

Even now, years down the track, Ice will stumble upon Maverick passed out at his work desk late at night ontop of a half finished project, with his old walkman next to him, headphones on, listening to Goose laugh his way through the Tomcat manual.

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honkytonk-hangman · 2 months

Text

How It's Done – Oneshot Version

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Aviator!Reader

Originally posted by unicornships

Summary: “Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean. “Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–” “–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by.

Warnings: erm maybe just some references to sex? jake being jake? language? minions. big warning for minions xD

Notes: Originally I intended this to be a two-parter series, but I wanted to change how it went, so I rewrote the parts I didn't like and made the entire thing into a oneshot instead!!! This fic will replace the 'part one' already on my blog, but I will keep this part up, linked at the very bottom of my masterlist! thank you everyone for being so patient! Thank you @hangmanssunnies, my love my biggest support <3

Words: 11.6k!

“Well, I’ll be damned…”

You pinch your eyes shut and steel yourself at the sound of the all too familiar Texan drawl, hanging on to the hope that perhaps he isn’t talking to you. You’re out of luck though, and moments later Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin slides into the open space next to you at the bar, already posed in a casual lean as he looks you up and down appraisingly.

It makes your teeth grind.

It makes your face hot.

“If it isn’t Mirage. Would have invited you to play with us if I’d known you were here earlier…” Hangman cocks his head, and his lips tip up in an infuriatingly perfect smile. “But one can never really be sure if you’re around or not… and that's before you get in a cockpit,” he grins, but when you meet his eye at last, he looks away from you, toward Penny who seems to approach in the nick of time, saving you from needing to respond.

You blink down at your drink, and finish it quickly, unnerved by what you think might have just been a compliment of sorts from Hangman. You’d been stationed together previously, though you weren’t friends, so you’d been expecting something a little more acidic in nature. You’d heard him interact with other aviators, knew he liked to push and poke them, usually got away with it too. For some reason though, he’d never really gone there with you and frankly you’ve always just chalked it up to not being worth his time. In fact, you’re pretty sure the only times you’d ever actually spoken had been in the sky. To be completely honest, you’re more than a little surprised that he remembers you at all.

You didn’t exactly go out of your way to stand out…

You were naturally quiet, which wasn’t helped by your social anxiety, resulting in most people describing you as extremely shy. They wouldn’t be wrong, you suppose, you did tend to keep to yourself, the idea of having too many eyes on you all but unbearable to you. But if you’d thought a roomful of people singing happy birthday to you was bad, somehow being under the unwavering stare of Hangman is approximately one thousand times worse.

“Penny, my dear… I’ll have,” he stops to glance pointedly down at your now finished beer, adjusts his stance to lean even more and unwittingly makes the muscles in his bicep bulge.

“Five more on the Old Timer,” Hangman says, nodding to the man who sits on the other side of the bar.

Internally you blanch, but externally, you say nothing and give even less away, feeling a little ping of satisfaction that apparently, you know something Hangman doesn’t. Before he’d come along, you’d been carefully watching the interaction between Penny and Captain Mitchell. You’d never met the man before, but you knew how to read military insignia, which at this point, was more than you could say for Hangman, who dismisses him quickly.

You wonder if Monday morning you’ll be able to work up the nerve to tease him about it.

You’re distracted from your thoughts when Penny returns with the requested drinks. You had no real intentions of going and hanging out with Hangman and the others, but before you can excuse yourself, your empty beer is smoothly plucked from your hands, replaced quickly with a brand new one.

“Help me carry these back?” Hangman asks then, jerking his head in the vague direction of the pool table. You frown when he immediately takes off walking, not actually letting you help him at all, all four beers still slotted between his fingers. You find yourself following him anyway, as if he’d placed some kind of spell over you.

Hangman stops ahead of you at the ancient jukebox, looking back over his shoulder at you, nodding in a pleased manner when he sees you trailing behind. He waits for you, gaze never leaving your form, even as he nods to the space next to him. You awkwardly step up to the spot opposite to him, and look past the glass and at the selection inside. Hangman, once more, takes up a lean, this time against the rickety machine.

“Would you be so kind as to select track number…” he trails off as he checks the list of songs, but quickly flicks his gaze back to you, and smiles bright, tauntingly, again. “Eighty-Six?” he asks, but it's barely a question. You nod, and swallow, shifting from holding your beer with two hands to holding it with just one. You carefully tap the chunky ‘eight’ and ‘six’ keys as he watches. The machine’s little analogue screen confirms that your song is next up, and nervously, you look back up at Hangman, horrified to find he’s just been staring at your face for the past however long.

“S’been a while, Mirage.” He drawls, making you blink rapidly and look away.

“Has it?” Is all you can manage meekly in reply, surprised when he lets out a genuine sounding laugh. He hums warmly, and you practically feel it in your chest.

“And yet,” he lifts hand, two beers held expertly between his fingers, but he extends it to tap your nose, almost making you almost flinch.

“You haven’t changed at all.” Hangman grins Cheshire-like down at you, before his eyes narrow ever so slightly, and he leans in even closer while flicking his eyes up and down your form again.

“I don’t bite you know,” he tells you, his voice sounding serious, but his somberness lasts mere seconds.

“Well, not unless you ask me to first, sweetheart,” he winks and his smile grows large as your eyes grow wide and you splutter, flustered.

Your face grows hot with slight embarrassment, a wave of inner resentment at his teasing washing through you.

Hangman laughs, seemingly bored with you now, and he turns to walk back toward the pool tables. Without even looking, he beckons you to follow with one finger on his still occupied hands. For a moment your pique prevents you from doing so, certain that if you were to dip into the crowd now, he’d not care enough to seek you out again, let alone notice you were missing.

You know he didn’t mean it, you know his flirting is just to get a rise, but you also know that he’d never do it to Phoenix, or Halo, and a little bit of you hates yourself for being such a marked pushover. You make the decision now that you won’t let him do it again, if you can help it.

Your eyes travel past Hangman then, towards the pool tables where you can now see another figure has joined the other gathered aviators, and for the first time all evening, you don’t feel nervous to go join them.

You follow after Hangman, but quickly diverge from his path, cutting around a gathered group of Navy personnel to get there faster. As you approach, you take a moment to shake off any lingering anxiety, before gently laying a hand on the faded Hawaiian shirt in front of you, doing your best to keep yourself from bouncing on your heels.

Rooster half looks ready to wave off whoever is trying to get his attention, but when his shaded eyes land on you, he spins his whole body to face you, grinning widely in unguarded excitement as he gathers you up in his arms.

“Miri!” he exclaims warmly, and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you when he briefly lifts you off the ground.

“I was just about to ask Phoenix if she’d seen you yet.” Rooster informs you.

“Seen who?” Phoenix steps around him, frowning as she quickly glances you over, though it disappears quickly.

“Yeah, that about tracks…” Rooster mutters mostly to himself.

“Nat, this is Mirage, you know her right?” Rooster introduces the two of you, and while neither of you make to shake hands, you only feel friendly energy radiate off the other woman, even as she openly looks you over now, nodding at Rooster’s words.

“Right, I have heard about you… I guess there's no real mystery behind your callsign… I didn’t even realise you were here… Sorry,” she tells you bluntly, but you appreciate her straightforwardness.

“They said ‘Wallflower’ was too long.” You joke lightly, and the other woman smiles. A moment passes between you, and you get the distinct feeling that Phoenix has become determined to never let you go unnoticed in her presence again.

You aren’t sure just yet if you appreciate that, but you are sure that you’ve just made a friend.

“Mirage?” Another voice joins then and you look to your left, smiling again when you see another familiar face.

“Bob!” you move to embrace him too, not seeing the look shared between Phoenix and Payback who watch you in surprise.

“Huh. Figures.”

Neither you or Hangman have moved since Rooster and Mav went down. The rest of Dagger had returned an hour ago, mission complete. There was no reason for either of you to be on standby.

And yet.

When the call came through that Dagger Two had been hit, both you and Hangman had separately requested to be launched, to help, but you’d been denied.

As a rule, you made yourself easy to work with, even if those around you were less compliant, and you’d experienced plenty of that, flying alongside Hangman the past few weeks. Whether it was him leaving you to get shot down in training, or refusing to fly as a team during simulations. And yet, despite his habit of ‘hanging you out to dry’ being the reason behind his callsign, deep down, you’ve never once doubted flying alongside him in the real thing like the others seemed to.

You’re glad for that lack of hesitation now, glad that it only takes a single moment of eye contact from across the tarmac for the two of you to understand one another perfectly. Glad that when you got word that somehow, Rooster was supersonic again, you already know his answer before you even ask.

“Hangman? Hondo’s cleared us for take off with the ground crew, against orders. You with me?” you ask quietly, looking over at your wingman, knowing that when you return you’ll most certainly be court marshalled, but unable to sit and do nothing any longer.

“To hell and back, Mirage,” comes his immediate reply.

You see him move in sync with you, both of your canopy’s lowering at the same time.

You ignore the panicked voices ordering you to stand down, long enough for Hondo and the others to get you on the catapult, and by then it’s too late.

In two seconds you’re propelled from zero to over a hundred and sixty, and in your ears you hear Hangman right behind you.

“Do you want to get a coffee with me?” The question makes you jump, your drink almost sloshing everywhere. The sudden voice, as well as the person it belonged to, takes you completely by surprise, but you’re thankful he doesn’t draw attention to your startling.

Up until moments ago, you’d been peacefully watching the ocean toss and turn, burying your feet in the damp sand and thinking about what you were going to do with your upcoming two weeks of post-mission leave.

Most of Dagger were a little further up the shore, a bonfire crackling away, although you weren’t the only one to have splintered off. Mav and Rooster were currently standing in the shallows talking, and you think Halo and Phoenix have moved to sit apart from the others as well. You had managed to sneak away easily enough, content to just sit on your own for a while, though your efforts appear to have been mostly in vain, if the man now plopped in the sand beside you is any indicator.

You blink at each other.

“What?!” you blurt out dumbly, not completely certain you really understood what he’d said. Hangman’s lips press into a thin line, and he looks away from you, linking his hands together around his knees, and staring out at the rolling waves.

“Coffee. Would you like to get one with me?” He repeats, sounding only a smidge impatient, but it still doesn't clear up much for you.

“I… No, I heard you the first time… I… I just don’t understand… why?”

Over the past three weeks you’ve been forced more out of your shell than you ever have before. It was torture. It was wonderful.

Part of you pats yourself on the back for being able to ask him so starightly, but another part of you slaps yourself in the face for questioning him.

Hangman turns to look at you apprehensively.

“Are you asking why coffee or why am I asking you?” He speaks slowly and carefully, his face blank and devoid of any hint he was teasing, though you think he might be anyway.

“Why… Why are you asking me?” You push, shuffling your feet in the sand, drawing his attention for a moment. He looks back at your face and frowns slightly, cocking his head.

“Because I like you? And that is usually what somebody does when they like someone. Ask them.” He answers, and this time you definitely get the impression he’s politely trying not to laugh, but for once, you don’t feel like you’re on the outside of the joke.

Still, you find yourself taken somewhat aback at his confession, admitted so easily and freely, as if it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you, which confuses you.

“Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean.

“Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–”

“–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by. Especially when for the past three weeks you haven't been able to get rid of the odd heart skips you got whenever Hangman acknowledged your presence at all.

And besides, you weren’t blind.

Hangman was ridiculously pretty, and not anywhere near as much of an asshole as he wanted people to believe.

He looks at you blankly for a moment, processing your words, before his face breaks out in a smile. It isn’t one of his usual smirks or tauntingly pearly grins, though. It’s softer, sweeter, and you stare mesmerised as he looks away from you again quickly, and down at his linked hands, nodding.

Two days pass, and even when you’re sitting across from him in a small, niche little coffee shop you had no idea existed, you feel like you’re in a dream.

You’ve never seen Hangman out of uniform, you realise, and it’s a whole new experience you’re forced quickly to process when he stands to go get your drinks.

Dark jeans, white shirt, casual jacket. It’s a simple outfit, but goddamn does he make it look good. Nervously you have to wonder if your white and blue sundress, sneakers and bomber jacket were having the same effect on him, though you highly doubt it.

He returns quickly, attentively, placing both your coffees down, before folding himself into his chair once more. You both look at each other awkwardly before you distract yourself by taking a sip of your coffee. Hangman seems to do the same, but instead of drinking, he begins tearing into several little sugar packets, and emptying them into his coffee foam.

You huff out a tiny laugh before you can stop yourself, and his eyes quickly snap to you.

“What?” he asks defensively, but the corners of his mouth twitch.

“I just… I guess I never figured you for a sweet coffee kinda guy…”

“Oh, and why is that?” his twitching lips turn into a full smirk, but it isn’t his usual Hangman smirk. You chew on the inside of your lip, and sip your coffee once more before answering.

“I’m not sure. I guess you just don’t seem like the type of guy who…” you trail off, unsure of what exactly you’re trying to say and even more; how to say it.

“Listen, I may have rippling, glistening abdominals, but I have a sweet tooth,” he says, putting on the defensiveness now, leaning toward you and pointing at himself. You pinch your brows together and purse your lips, nodding vehemently.

“I know how to have fun,” he tells you, tipping a third sugar into his coffee.

“Of that I don’t really doubt, Hangman,” you say, but his gaze snaps back to you again, almost sharply this time.

“Jake.” he corrects you.

You pause.

Of course, you knew his first name, but you’re fairly certain you’ve never once used it. Hangman has just always been, well, Hangman. But you weren’t in a cockpit right now, he’d asked you out, this wasn’t the time and place for callsigns. He wasn’t Hangman, and you weren’t Mirage.

“Jake,” you say slowly, carefully, as if he’ll tell you any moment he’s just kidding around. But he doesn’t.

“Miri,” he replies, slow like you, but softer, and it’s silly, but it sounds so nice coming from him. You shake your head and swallow.

“Jake, if you don’t like coffee, why did you ask me out for one?” you ask him, watching as he blinks slowly at you, before his gaze slowly drops to the latte in front of him.

“If I asked you for a drink, you might’ve got the wrong idea,” he starts, speaking carefully. “If I asked you for dinner, it could be too formal, too awkward–”

“–It’s already awkward,” you point out, making him grimace slightly, so you shrug.

“Coffee just seemed like– I just wanted to–” he cuts himself off and drops both hands to the table.

“Look– I just didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding about what this was. I like you. I know you like coffee.” Jake admits all in a flurry, his voice quiet, and his eyes flickering around as he speaks.

For as long as you’ve known him, you’ve never seen Jake unable to maintain eye contact, actually it seemed to be something he took immense pride in, and it always made you slightly uncomfortable, but right now he appears completely incapable, and it's not a side of Hangman you’ve ever seen before. You realise you might be meeting Jake properly for the first time.

You decide to let him off easy, with all the newfound courage Dagger had been feeding into you the past few weeks, and you change the subject.

“You know, when you came up to me at the Hard Deck that first night, I was kinda surprised you remembered me at all,” you say slowly, sipping your coffee and eying him evenly. Jake frowns then, but it smooths out into a cool grin, and he leans back in his chair, cocking his head.

“Are you kidding? I’m always clocking possible threats.” he tells you, making you cough lightly.

“How am I a threat to you?!” you ask in disbelief.

“Oh, I could name a few,” Jake teases, nodding at you, but flicking his eyes away, almost making a show of clocking an incoming group of customers behind you.

You weren’t clueless, you knew you were a part of Dagger for a reason. You were damn good at your job, but still, Jake was Hangman, not only was he an aviator you respected, he was an aviator with very high personal standards, and for him to see you as comparable to him… well truthfully, you find yourself rather humbled.

And then flustered, at his clear unabashed flirting.

“I always thought you flirting was just you messing with me,” you admit, and he grins wider.

“Can’t it be both?” he asks, leaning forward again, and clasping his hands together. He seems to have no problem maintaining eye contact now, you note. When you cold-stare him, he simply shrugs.

“You’re cute when you get all flustered and nervous, what can I say?”

“Literally anything else.” You grumble back.

You finish your coffee and push the cup to the side, crossing your arms on the table and leaning forward like he was. Jake mimics you, pushing his own coffee away, clearly with no intention to start, let alone finish it. You aren’t as good as him with eye contact though, no matter how much you’d come out of your shell, so you take the opportunity to glance sideways out the window, only for your gaze to catch on something.

Your heart thumps loudly for a moment in your ears, and you wonder briefly if you should act on the thoughts popping around your brain right now, or if you should just stay put.

You lean forward even more, and flick your eyes back to Jake who is staring at you curiously.

“Hey, I have an idea…” you start, chewing on the inside of your lip, before standing up. You only hesitate a little before offering your hand.

“You with me?” you ask without thinking, the words the same as the ones you ask time and again to your wingmen while in flight manoeuvres. Jake stares up at you for a moment, before he too stands, your heart skipping when he takes your hand. With a tiny squeeze you almost don’t notice, Jake grins, and nods.

“Oh, hey! Stop! That’s not fair!” You elbow Jake in the side, but it’s already too late. The hand he’d shot out to block your light gun had done its job, and where you’d previously been neck in neck for score on the dual Time Crisis cabinet, Jake’s character was now cheering in victory, while your screen was asking you to insert more coins and try again.

Jake chortles and you both slot your plastic guns back into their plastic holsters at the front of the machine.

“We never agreed to no interference,” he says proudly, and you sock him in the arm only half as hard as you can.

“I didn’t think it needed to be said!” you exclaim pointedly. Jake grins down at you, and collects his tickets.

“Quit complaining, all these are gonna go towards whatever stuffed bear or whatever the hell you want anyway.” He rolls his eyes, and gestures to the shoddy ‘rewards’ counter of the arcade you’d spotted from the coffee shop.

“I want the Minion.” You state firmly after glancing at the redemption counter for three seconds, and spotting the big ugly yellow creature on the top shelf. Jake sighs in a put-upon manner and shakes his head.

“See, this is how you know I really like you. I’m willing to ignore that,” he says, and you actually think he might be serious this time. You grin up at him as he takes your elbow, and begins leading you toward the back of the room.

“What are you going to cheat me out of kicking your ass at this time?” you glance around you, goosebumps trailing up and down your arm as Jake lets his hand slide from around your elbow, down your forearm and into your hand, which he squeezes as if in warning.

“I didn’t cheat, I simply used black ops tactics,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. You purse your lips at him and narrow your own eyes back.

“Cheat.” you say again, pronouncing each syllable deliberately.

You come to a stop then, and you look up at the old photo booth machine. Jake pulls out a fistfull of tickets, squinting his eyes at the label with instructions, before looking back over at the redemption counter. He seems to run some numbers before he looks back down at you with a grin, and waves the strings of crumpled tickets.

“My cheating means we can use the booth, and still have enough for a Kevin plush, so I don’t wanna hear no more complaining outta you,” he waggles a finger in front of your nose, and you blink up at him sheepishly.

“Jake– I don’t really want the Minion…” you say, before your voice turns suspicious. “Anyway, how do you know which one is Kevin?!” you lift an eyebrow, only for Jake to roll his eyes and push you into the curtained booth.

You orient yourself in the tiny enclosed space, looking around you as Jake takes a moment to feed several lines of win-tickets into the machine before he follows you. He’s forced to duck down real low, making the space even smaller, and you both stare for a moment at the small seat barely big enough for one person, let alone two.

“Well, either you can sit on my lap, or I can sit on yours, darlin’, but I know which one I’d prefer.” Jake intones lowly, and for the first time in an hour or so, you feel yourself get all flustered again. Honestly, you’d kind of forgotten about the explicitly romantic tone of this meeting until now, and more than that, your stomach begins to flip and flop like the first time you’d gotten in a jet when he eases past you and drops himself onto the bench before patting his thighs.

“Jake, maybe if you just move over a litt–”

“No can do, honey,” and he’s not even trying to tease you, he demonstrates the spread of his legs, and the tight fit into the booth, before looking back up at you expectantly again.

“Okay… Okay…” you say more for your own sanity than anything else, and turn, quickly perching yourself on his leg before you can really think too hard about what you're doing.

Your efforts are for naught though, because the moment you’re sat down, Jake’s hands are tugging you against him further, sitting you more comfortably on the thick expanse of his thigh, and you barely repress the noise that nearly escapes you at the feeling of his fingers digging into your hips.

“There we go, sweetheart,” he says softly, almost to himself, and moves his hands to wrap around you completely. If he notices your little noise, which by his self satisfied smirk he definitely has, he thankfully chooses not to say anything. Your face grows warm, not only at the hold he has on you but at the pet name too.

“Did you just call me ‘sweetheart’?” you ask, sounding half bewildered, half incredulous, forgetting for a moment where exactly you were and why. As you look over your shoulder at the man behind you, Jake stares back, his smirk still in place even as his eyes seem to search your face, his own expression mostly unreadable.

“Would you prefer ‘honey’?” he almost purrs, his voice distinctly amused, but you notice that he doesn’t back down, doesn’t apologise or step back.

It makes your stomach twist up in knots. It makes your heartbeat skip like a record.

You turn away from him, shake your head.

“It’s fine,” you tell him bashfully, wanting to grumble slightly when against your back you sense what you think is him puffing his chest a little. Quickly, you add: “Not at work, though…”

Jake chortles, but as you peek over your shoulder to look at him again, he’s relenting, his smirk gone and replaced with a far softer smile as he nods.

“Not at work, though.” he repeats lowly in confirmation, almost making you jump when he shifts one hand to steady you around the waist, his other reaching out to begin fiddling with the controls on the lit up screen in front of you.

“Alright, let's get this show on the road shall we?”

By the time you’re exiting the tiny cubicle, Jake’s hands still attached to your hips as he follows you out, you’re both laughing quietly to yourselves. You’re amazed to find just how much Jake can affect you, either setting you at complete ease or sending you into a tizzy, depending on what he’s said or done. Usually you wouldn’t be surprised by other people’s effects on you, you were jumpy and anxious by nature, but it was rare that somebody who put you on edge as much as Jake did, could also give you such comfort.

When he detaches his hands from your sides at last to survey the sheets of photos spat out by the booth, you marvel at how much you start to miss the contact. With all the subtlety you can muster, you inch closer to him, under the guise of getting a look at the photos as well, though really, you’re only hoping that you might prompt him into reaching out for you again.

Jake chortles and points at a set of two pictures. In one, you’re both grinning madly, pulling silly faces, and in the other, you’re wearing softer smiles, and you notice now, that Jake had pushed his face a little closer to yours. It makes heat rise in your cheeks, not just at the seeming intimacy of the photo, but truthfully, of how much you like seeing the two of you like that.

“You won’t mind if I keep these, will ya?” Jake asks, looking over at you. You simply shake your head, and he grins a little wider, carefully tearing off the two pictures before pulling out his wallet and tucking them inside, for sake keeping, you assume.

Jake lets you keep the rest, and absently, you fold them into the zipper in your purse, too distracted by the fact that he does indeed take your hand again, before quickly releasing it to instead wrap his arm over your shoulder. You can’t stop yourself from smiling a little as you blink dumbly up at him, and he grins down at you, ducking his face even closer to yours.

“Now sweetheart, I believe I was instructed to win you a minion plush.”

You try to avoid Phoenix’s hard stare, and focus on wiping down your helmet.

“You’re acting weird,” she finally announces, still managing to make you jump despite your anticipation. You then immediately proceed to do yourself exactly zero favours, proving her point by refusing to look up at her, choosing to instead hurriedly continue with your current task.

“What? No I’m not. I’m fine. You’re being weird,” you argue, wincing at your clearly abysmal attempts at behaving like a normal adult human. You start re-cleaning the pristine surface of your helmet, your nerves conjuring imperfections you logically know don’t exit.

Just before you completely lose yourself down the spiral of unhealthy compulsive behaviours, A hand, Nat’s hand, stops your own. Tugging the cloth out of your hands and taking your helmet away from you, she places it down on the workbench you stand on opposite sides of. Chewing your lip, you at last meet her eye.

“Miri, it’s okay to have a crush–”

“–I don’t have a crush!” You blurt out both far too quickly to be believable, as well as in sheer panic. Your face grows immediately hot, and you can tell Phoenix is trying not to laugh at the show you’re putting on so poorly. Her lips twitch, but her expression softens from amusement into something softer, mixed with traces of pity. Just when you’re starting to debate the pros and cons of sprinting out of the room, getting in your jet, and then flying away never to be seen again, she relents, releasing you from her eye contact and making herself busy as she tidies up bits and bobs littering the workbench.

You swallow thickly, and stay watching her, your heart rate only spiking higher as your anxiety builds once more at her sudden apparent indifference. You follow her movements without moving an inch, sharply aware that not only was she still very much focused solely on scrutinising you, but even more mortifyingly, that this conversation was far from being over.

“Nat,” you say with surprisingly more strudiness than you believed possible, pausing to swallow the dryness in your mouth. “I don’t have a crush, okay?” You wait for her to look back over at you, nothing but disbelief rolling off of her faux-casualty, giving you a bullshit shrug and a smile.

“Okay.” she says. You had hoped that would be enough, but you should have known better. You clear your throat again.

“Nat,” you say, only making yourself louder, as if that was a sign of nothing going on. She looks up at you somewhat blankly. You know you’re totally screwed already as her eyes dip to watch your finger begin quickly tapping on the bench before you with barely any acknowledgement from yourself. “There’s nothing weird going on,” you say, pleading with your voice and face and every atom of your being that she drops it.

She drops something, unfortunately it’s not the subject though, but you still feel some semblance of stress leaving your body as her fake lack of care dissolves, and she leans back to rest against the cabinet behind her. She crosses her arms and shrugs again while letting out a soft, pitying sigh, which this time doesn’t raise your non-existent heckles as much as it had when it first showed its face.

You stare at one another, at what you think is an impasse and wordless agreement to now never talk of this episode in your friendship ever again, but once again, you should have known better.

“If it’s any consolation, I think he has a crush on you too, so it's not like it’s a total waste of energy… despite all evidence to the contrary,” She says conversationally at first, before muttering out the last part under her breath.

“He doesn’t,” you state with so much certainty you almost forget for a moment that it’s not even a little bit true. Instead, crossing your arms too, you feel like a middle schooler having a much too serious fight with her friend at lunch. “We’ve just become closer, like all of the squad have. You’re just noticing it cause you want to!” you’re a little taken aback by the sound logic of your own reasoning, all points earned to your side then immediately becoming forfeit when you can’t help yourself from stupidly continuing to speak. “Why? Has he said something?!”

Your outburst of near-giddy excitement destroys all chances of you walking this back, and you find yourself with only one option left available. But your prior readiness to exit out of this failed interaction at roughly 300 kts/min becomes soberingly not so fun to fantasise about when you sheepishly remember the current charges against you, for the theft of the $70 million dollar military aircraft you’d technically stolen when you and Jake had taken a joy ride to pick up Mav and Rooster.

You're snapped back into the present as Natasha Trace regards you unreadably and slowly lifts one perfect eyebrow at you. You cover your face and hang your head, you reason with your now permanently mortified brain that if you just admitted to the thing she already believed to be true, she’d stop looking any closer, possibly finding out something actually secret.

It helps that your embarrassment for the flurry of extremely obvious questions is very real, and you groan into your palms. You hear before you see Phoenix laugh, listening to her chortle at your outing yourself, but you notice that he demeanour is warmer now, and she pushes herself up to sit on the top of the bench between you, crossing her legs.

“He’s not said a thing, but he doesn’t need to,” she tells you, seemingly glad to just be able to share her findings and observations, which you uncomfortably realise have been going on for a lot longer than you realised.

“It's what he’s not saying,” she explains, and you blink up at her in genuine curiosity.

“Huh?”

Phoenix turns her gaze upward as she thinks.

“He doesn’t make fun of you… or snipe at you, not really,” she begins, resting her head in her hand. “To be honest when we first met, I was expecting to defend you. You’re a good pilot, a great one, but Hangman isn’t exactly known for recognising that in others…”

You frown up at her, unsure of anything to say to abate her suspicions.

She’s not exactly wrong, even when the two of you were first stationed together, he’d never poked fun at you, never really called you out. To be fair, he hadn’t really acknowledged your presence at all, but these days you knew that was more to do with the fact that all this time, Hangman had liked you, had seen you were shy, and didn’t like crowds, and as you’d found out recently, often made more of a spectacle of himself to draw attention away from you.

You have to stop yourself from smiling dreamily at the thought of him.

“And I mean, he disobeyed direct orders for you, he knew what you were doing, and he went with you anyway… I’m just saying Miri, I don’t think you’d be disappointed if you were to say something–”

You quickly cut her off.

“I’m not saying anything to him!”

At last, given your already clear admittance of your supposed ‘crush’, Phoenix relents, holding up her hands and shrugging.

“Just think about it alright? It’s even sort of… cute, in a weird, Hangman-y way.”

You grumble at her, but thankfully she doesn’t bring it up again for the rest of the afternoon. Still, you leave the workshop with a sparkling helmet, cleaner than you think it ever has been, and with a pressing matter to relay to your boyfriend, most of which involves playing it much, much cooler in front of Phoenix the next time you all hang out.

You know you’ve made some personal growth when you answer the door in your matching Star Wars X-Wing PJ’s and slippers, and aren’t immediately mortified.

Jake stands there, already grinning back at you, and looking like a greek god sent to earth in his dark jeans and plain white shirt.

“Red Leader Mirage, your rescuer has arrived!” he announces, doing what you judge to be a surprising spot-on impression of Lt. Porkins from Star Wars, shooting a lazily salute down at slippers

Unfortunately, you aren’t given the chance to ask him more about his perfect Red Six however, as he’s almost immediately pushing away from where he’d been leaning against the side of your door, posing for your perusal you assume, and holds out a brown paper bag for you to take. You swipe it, and shoot him a thankful smile.

“Thank you, Jake, really…” you side-step his self-congratulatory jokes, but he doesn’t seem phased, simply shrugging, and taking a step closer to you, letting one hand rest gently on your shoulder, before he hooks it and tugs you into him.

You’d started getting all-too familiar with just how physically attentive Jake seemed to be, something you would never have guessed about him several weeks ago, but had come to terms with now. Clingy was never a word you would have used to describe him before. He hugs you briefly, then pulls back to look down at you, his brow furrowed and his expression filled with genuine concern, another thing you’d been getting more familiar with.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks, inviting himself in by walking you backwards and kicking your door closed lightly behind him. You’d come not to mind this sort of thing either, but mostly because you know if you asked him to leave again, he would, no questions asked. That was another new thing you’d been learning about Jake Seresin.

In comparison to how Hangman could be up in the sky, Jake was entirely understanding, one hundred percent supportive, and almost a little too observant when it came to your particular anxieties. It meant he often knew without you saying when to push you, and when to not, and on the occasion that you did need to say, he always respected those boundaries.

It was starting to make you nervous, how much you were growing to like him.

“Cramps are kicking my ass, but other than that, mostly fine. Thank you for these,” you try again, hoping that he really understands just how much you appreciate him coming over for you tonight. Never in your life would you have imagined feeling comfortable enough to ask Hangman to stop by the pharmacy and pick you up sanitary products, and never would you have imagined he’d make no issue of it.

“Sure,” he says, again with a shrug. “You want me to head out?” he asks then, tipping his head back at your door, even as he inches his face closer to yours, brushing his nose tip against yours. Your lips quirk, then break out into a full smile when he grins before dipping low enough to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your stomach somersaults and pulls at least ten G’s for sure as he continues to brush his lips against yours teasingly.

This hadn’t taken much getting used to at all. Jake was a good kisser, and had proved it after your second date, almost in the exact place you were now, both his hands cupping your cheeks and his lips full on yours, hungry and insistent. That had been almost four weeks ago now, but after his hands had tugged your hips flush to his, you’d quickly put the breaks on.

You were still slightly uncertain about going further with Jake so soon. The fact was, you worked together in a high impact, high stress job, and if anything should happen between you, it would be easier to keep things professional if you took it slow

Jake had, to your slight surprise, though you aren't sure exactly what you were expecting, nodded slowly and taken a step back. He’d told you that the only thing he wanted more than you, was for you to want him too. You’d had to explain that your position wasn’t because you didn’t want him, which had led to more making out, but he hadn’t pushed to go further and he’d left that night with the affirmation that however long you wanted to wait was alright by him.

“No, you can stay,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around his neck to stop him from pulling away too much as you try not to full-on pout. Jake smiles against your lips and presses into you further, moving to push you against the wall, where he crowds your space entirely and stops teasing you, capturing your lips with his at last.

You’re about to experimentally slide your hand up his shirt, a thought that had been lingering in your mind more and more these past few days, but your kiss is over too soon, and he pulls back, leaving you breathless.

“Weren’t you waiting for me, so you could do chores?” he prompts, nearly making you grumble. Instead you nod, and gently push back against him, heading towards your bedroom just down the main hall.

“You can wait in here if you like,” you suggest, feeling a little nervous about the idea, but it was something you’d been thinking about for a while now. Even if you and Jake weren’t sleeping together, that didn’t mean the two of you couldn’t sleep together, did it? It was something you’d wanted, specifically with him, but not really something you’d ever experienced before. You were ready to move out of these early stages of your relationship, eager to push yourself and your limits just a little, so you could settle into something more comfortable with Jake, something where you weren’t always a little surprised when he touched you, or called you by one of his innumerable pet names.

Jake shoves his hands in his pockets and nods, clearly thinking through what this invitation could mean as he follows you quietly.

“Um, I feel like I should say ‘excuse the mess’, but you know–” you cut yourself off and gesture around your bedroom when you both have entered. Jake snorts.

“Well that’s what being in the Navy gets you. I won’t judge if you say it anyway,” he tells you lightly, and you scoff.

“Yes you will!” you insist, and are met with a confident, familiar cheshire-grin.

“Mhm, but only a little. Have you changed your mind, honey?” he steps toward you again then, almost closing the distance in one stride, his hands still shoved in his pockets, but his gaze locked intently on you in a way you haven’t felt since that second date. Your heart beats so loudly you’re sure he must be able to hear, but he doesn’t mention it, just waits for you, crowding your space again.

“Oh, I– No… not… I didn’t… I’m sorry…”

The moment you speak Jake is stepping back, pulling his hands from his pockets to hold them up, his expression losing the intensity again.

“No need to apologise, my mistake.” Jake’s words are sincere, but he looks away from you.

You let out a little sigh.

“It’s just so soon, and with the trial–”

“–You don’t have to explain yourself, honey,” Jake pulls his hands from his pockets at last and places them at your waist, drawing you in. You fall quiet as he lowers his face to yours, though he teases you again by not kissing you, simply looking you over, and then smirking when you pout. “You want it when you want it, and that’s when I want it, okay?”

He makes you nod, before he at last lowers his lips to meet yours and kisses you, slow and sweet. You finally get the chance to test the waters a little, easing your hand carefully underneath the back of his shirt, making you giggle against his mouth when he jumps slightly at the feel of your skin on his. Jake doesn’t say or do anything about it though, thankfully just letting you explore a little as he tips your head back further to deepen your kiss, and you brush your fingers up his spine.

After a short while of this, he must feel the urge to tease you again, because with little to no hesitation at all, unlike you, he slips his hands beneath your shirt, his warm palms gripping onto the bare skin just above your PJ shorts, almost making you moan. You’re glad you’re able to hold back the sound, mostly, but your own surprise doesn’t go unnoticed by the blond currently kissing you.

He only continues doing so for a short minute longer, before he’s eventually pulling back, lips pink and kiss swollen. You can’t help but frown at the parting. He squeezes your waist, and nudges your nose with his own.

“What do you want to do, honey?”

You groan at the apparent lack of making out in your future, not because you don’t think he’d agree, but mostly because you’re not quite ready to ask him for more, though a part of you senses he’s not willing to let you off the hook for those chores you’d told him about earlier.

“I need to fold this laundry,” you point past him, to your walk-in wardrobe and the basket that lies within. Jake looks over at it and lifts an eyebrow, which you choose to ignore. He nods then, and takes a step away from you, making you frown even more when his hands fall from your body.

“I’ll help,” he says, making your eyes widen, and you quickly step around him to block his path, where he is clearly about to make for your basket.

“No! Um… It’s okay, It’ll be easier if I just do it…” you trail off, wondering if you sound insane and neurotic, but Jake simply raises his hands again and nods.

“Well, what do you want me to do?” he prods, and you realise, he’s come inside thinking you want him to help with your chores.

“I was thinking… I was thinking it might just be nice for you to just… be here?” You cringe, and narrowly avoid making a face at yourself. Jake blinks at you as if he doesn’t understand.

“You want me to… sit around while you do laundry?” he asks, tone confused, but equally unimpressed. You nod. Jake shifts, then clicks his tongue. “I was not raised to let somebody work while I sit and watch, especially not my girl. My mother would tan my hide.”

You’re a little surprised by the seriousness on his face, despite the humorous inflection in his voice. You suck in a breath, mulling over how to explain to him what you had been thinking when he came inside. Jake’s eyes flicker over you for a moment before he shifts again, crossing his arms and lifting his chin at you.

“Alright sweetheart, just say what you gotta say, I can hear those cogs turning from here…”

“I… I like that you want to help me, I think that’s really sweet…”

“But…?” Jake prompts.

“I find this kinda thing hard, and I was hoping we could just try and do something… domestic…? Together?” your face goes hot at your admission, and when Jake doesn’t immediately respond you wonder if using the word ‘domestic’ was too much, too soon.

“What is ‘this kind of thing’? I get the other part honey,” again, his voice is playful, but you see the seriousness behind his eyes and it lends you even more comfort. How is he so good at this? It’s almost like he’d read your teenage diary entry all about your perfect guy… it's the sort of attention, care, and behaviour that you’ve never actually gotten from a guy you were seeing before, so you aren’t really sure how to compose yourself.

“This kind of thing,” you gesture between you and him, before clearing your throat. “I don't know what to call it– us, but–”

“–a relationship.” Jake cuts in firmly, and you pause, heart thumping. You hadn't actually had this discussion yet, but you guess you’re having it now.

“Right. I mean, I’ve been in relationships before, but they’ve never really worked out and I feel like I never get to the point with boyfriends where I feel fully comfortable, so I–” you clamp your mouth shut, both at the use of ‘boyfriend’, and at the fact you were rambling, and you’re pretty sure it's too early to start telling him about how all your prior relationships failed.

“Right. So, let me get this straight; you were going to come back in here and put your laundry away, regardless of me being here?” Jake holds up a hand as he repeats back the information.

“Yeah…”

“And you just want me to keep you company?”

You nod, and clear your throat.

“Yeah.”

Jake stares at you, a level of understanding crossing his face, before his eyes flick to your laundry behind you, then back to your face.

“... And you’re sure I can’t help you?” His resolve sounds weak, and you think he’s already made up his mind to do as you asked, but his upbringing requires him to triple check. You smile, and this time step toward him, gingerly resting your hand on his arm, which he immediately raises, and flips, sliding it so now you’re holding his hand.

Again, you can’t fathom how he got so good at this sort of thing. Your knees go wobbly.

“I have a bunch of lacy unmentionables in there, so…” you try to lighten things, but it's not a lie. Jake picks up what you’re putting down, and gives your hand a squeeze. He tips his chin at you and lifts an eyebrow.

“Now why’d you have to go and say that honey? You sure you’re certain I can’t help?” his hands slip from yours to rest at your hips again, completely bypassing your top this time and your heart stutters.

You bite your lip, and nod your head, trying not to laugh him off fully, because while that may be your instinctual nervous reaction, you didn’t want to discourage him entirely. You liked that Jake acted as if you were a pretty girl, like you were desirable, and not like the awkward dork you actually were. You didn't want him to stop doing that.

His expression turns a little softer, and he leans down, moving slowly as to give you time to process, and he presses his lips to your cheek, lingering for just a moment before he taps your sides with his fingers, then steps away.

You’re still catching your breath when he looks back at you, pointing at what looks like one corner of your bed.

“Can I?”

You nod, and gesture at the whole mattress.

“Make yourself comfortable!”

–

You can feel the pounding music of the club in your whole body. The lights flashing and dancing in different colourways in time with the music give everything around you an ever changing aura, and maybe it’s all the drinks you’ve had tonight, but in front of you, Natasha seems to glow.

Her hands grasp your forearm firmly and you giggle, uncharacteristically carefree as you almost slip again.

“Alright! Okay, let's get you seated!” she says. She’s had a few too, but not nearly as many as you, and you’re glad for it now as she steers you toward the bar and grabs a paper cup to fill with water from the nearby water station toward the end. You find yourself drinking it without prompting, but miss the taste of the fruity cocktails you’d been downing all night. “I’ll call us a cab,” she says, beginning to pull out her phone, but you hastily stop her, placing a hand on her arm and shaking your head rapidly, making the colours spin even more.

“No! My boyfriend said he’d pick us up!” you insist, ignoring the way her eyebrows shoot up, then stitch together.

“You boyfriend?” she asks, but you miss the real question behind her words, instead you simply nod, and begin to fumble around in your own purse until you find your phone. Nat watches you expectantly as you open your messages, quickly tapping ‘call' on the top icon, and pressing the phone to one ear, and your finger to the other.

It rings less than once before it connects.

“Heeyy!” you sigh in relief down the line, happy to even just hear his voice after all night going without. “Yeah, no, everything’s alright, you just said to call you when we were done!” you say in reply to his amused questioning. You look up at Nat briefly, and if you were more sober, you might’ve been able to tell that she was leaning in slightly to try and hear the voice on the other end, but you aren’t, so you don’t.

“Okay, I’ll meet you out front!” you tell him excitedly, before adding on; “Is it okay if we give Nat a ride home too?” there's a short reply, and at last you’re smiling wide and nodding, even though he can’t see you. “Okay, we’ll see you soooon!”

You hang up and stare back up at Natasha, who's giving you a funny look that you ignore. “He said he’ll be here in ten, he’s been at the sports bar in town waiting!” you tell her dreamily, like she might understand what it means to you that Jake would choose to remain only a short distance away in case you needed anything, in the knowledge that you didn’t always enjoy nights out like this.

Nat simply nods and after making you drink one more glass of water, you begin making your way through the crowds and out of the club.

The air outside is warm, but refreshing and you take in as much of it as you can, not realising how stuffy the air inside the club had been until now. It was getting late, and bars and restaurants around the club are lit up and busy, the streets all around full of people either on their way to their destination, or lingering as they talk.

It doesn’t take long for you to spot Jake’s car and he pulls up close to the curb, allowing you to beeline for the passengers side door, not realising that Natasha follows with more confusion and trepidation. Jake jumps out of the car to greet you, rounding it to quickly steady your wobbly walk with a hand on your hip, and with the other, he pulls open the car door and helps you inside, leaning in to help you buckle in, grinning even as he murmurs quietly.

“You had a good night, sweetheart?” he asks, clicking your seatbelt into place for you, making you giggle at him. You lean forward for a kiss, but he dodges you, somewhat more aware than you are of your present company, and instead rests his hand so he can squeeze your knee. Your good mood isn’t spoiled and you barely notice the dodged kiss, so you simply nod your assent to his question vehemently.

“I had a lot to drink!” you tell him, before bursting out into giggles again, the soft, sweet smile Jake gives you going unnoticed as he squeezes your leg again.

“Yes you did,” he says with clear, fond amusement, and at last moves back so he can shut your door.

Unlike you, on the other hand, Natasha may as well be sober as a judge, and she eyes Jake somewhat distrustfully as she steps closer, lifting her chin up at him as she talks.

“What’re you doing here?” she asks accusingly, making Jake cock his head at her, only half as annoyingly as he can. He gestures back at you in the front seat of his car.

“Miri called, sounded pretty hammered,” he tells her as if that explained it. Natasha narrows her eyes and crosses her arms.

“Yeah, but she said she was calling her boyfriend, what’re you doing here?” She dares him to reply with anything but the truth, however luckily for Jake, unlike most men caught in her crossfire, he’s able to brush her off with an infuriating grin.

“I guess she dialled the wrong number, do you want a lift home or not?”

At his ultimatum (however hollow it really is, he wouldn’t leave her on her own in the middle of the night), Natasha frowns darker at him, but accepts the door he opens, waiting for her to get settled before he closes it behind her and returns to the driver's side.

When Jake checks his rearview he notes in amusement that Nat has situated herself in the middle seat, giving herself a perfect view of the two of you in the front. You don’t, nor do you seem to have any weariness in the bloodhound you’ve just set upon the both of you, but if he’s honest, Jake had known from day one that the second Natasha Trace suspected anything, your little secret was over.

He drives back as normally as he can, but it's strange to him now to have you sitting right there in his passenger's seat, and not have his hand in yours, or on your thigh. It’s strange to him to be in this space where the two of you are usually so open with your affection, and have to suppress it. Jake does not like it.

The car ride home is quiet, you seem content to look out the window, the tiredness hitting you now, but every so often he and Nat make small talk about whatever football scores interested them in the past week or two, and before too long, he’s pulling up outside her home.

Looking over at you to find that you’re slumped over asleep on his window, Jake follows Natasha out of the car with a simple offer of making sure she gets in alright. The congeniality doesn’t last very long, and once they’re standing on her porch she turns to him with a frown.

“You don’t really think I’m that stupid, do you?” she asks, for once not sounding angry or scolding, but seemingly subdued, maybe even a little upset. Jake sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Looking back to his car to make sure you’re still alright, he levels his squadmate with a serious expression.

“No, I do not,” he tells her sincerely. “But it’s Miri’s choice to not want to be public yet, all I’m asking is that you respect that,” he goes on after a moment. He doesn’t really believe she would say anything, but he feels the need to get her agreement, if only for your peace of mind in the morning.

Nat hums to herself and briefly looks away to fish out her keys. Once she has them in hand, she looks up at him again, a little grin on her face this time.

“How long?” she asks. Jake rolls his eyes and can’t resist the urge to mess with her just a little.

“Few years,” he states matter of factly, waiting for her eyes to pop wide before he lets out a victorious laugh and shakes his head. “A month or two,” he admits truthfully, accepting the hard sock in the arm as Nat scoffs at him and moves to unlock her front door.

“Something, something, I’ll kick your ass if you hurt her,” she grumbles as she steps inside, immediately kicking off her shoes. Jake straightens up and gives her a mock salute.

“Yes Ma’am,” he says, chortling to himself as he receives a middle finger for his efforts and the door is closed and locked again.

Jake feels a little lighter on his walk back to his car, and when he climbs in, he leans over to carefully adjust your crooked neck and make sure your belt is still strapped properly. You wake a little, confused at first, and blink up at him in happy wonderment.

“Hey!” you mumble, like it's the first time you’ve seen him tonight. Jake chuckles and leans closer to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Let’s get you home baby.”

–

You awake the next morning with nowhere near the headache you’re expecting, but with an array of distinct memories that cause a pit to open up in your stomach. The pit then begins to growl as you register the warm, homey smell of food, and with little effort, you force yourself up and into the kitchen, where you immediately attach yourself to Jake’s bare back.

His skin is warm and feels so comfy against your cheek, and the soft little laugh he gives makes your belly flop around. He lets you stay like that for a few moments more, moving slowly but smoothly so you can move with him, and at last when whatever he’s doing with his hands is finished, he reaches around for you and rests his hands where he can.

“Did I really call you last night? While with Nat?” you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping you’d just imagined it all, but another soft chuckle lets you know you hadn’t.

“Never thought you’d be the one to let our little secret slip first. I underestimated you baby.”

You groan into his back, and try to hide your face, but before you can complain or dodge him, Jake has turned himself around, letting you instead smoosh your face in between his gloriously golden pecs, and you think things may not be so bad.

He wraps his arms around you properly, and for a moment you just stay like that. You wonder if you can convince him to come around shirtless more often, the warmth radiating off his skin feeling heavenly, not to mention he looked almost as delicious as the food he’d made. You wonder if he’d already worked out this morning, or if you can join him after breakfast.

One of Jake’s hands moves away from your back and cups the back of your head tenderly, making you mewl slightly, and you look up at him to give the attention you know he’s asking for. Jake stares down at you with a soft little grin, and readjusts himself slightly, so he’s able to drop his lips to meet yours briefly.

One kiss becomes two kisses, becoming three kisses and after that any semblance of chastity is given up on and he kisses you full and sweet, deliberately slow like he’s teasing you to ask for more, but for now you’re simply content to wash away all of last nights worries like this.

Coming up for air, Jake barely breaks apart from you, his lips still brushing yours when he speaks.

“I asked Nat not to say anything, she respects you enough to do that I think,” he says, dropping a few more soft kisses to your mouth when you crane your neck up for more. He goes no further this time, though, and leans back from you to gauge your reaction after several moments, and you force yourself to open your eyes and pout.

“It’s not that I think she’ll tell anyone…” you say to him, scrunching up your features as you recall your lack of playing it cool the first time she had brought Jake up to you. The memory makes you grumble to yourself, and you once more attempt to hide your face in his chest. Jake laughs, and makes you jump when he pokes your side.

“What is it?” he asks, like he already knows. You tell him, voice muffled in his skin, but clear enough for the details of your embarrassing inability to throw the scent off to be heard. Jake’s body shakes with more laughter as you relay the information, but instead of trying to make you stop hiding away, he simply cups the back of your head again, and holds it nearer, allowing you to wither your embarrassment away in the safety of him.

“I think we both know that the minute that woman suspected anything, it was game over,” he tells you once you’re done, still holding you close, but you feel his lips press to the top of your head sweetly, and you do your best to snuggle yourself closer.

After the bulk of your mortification has eased away, Jake makes you detach from him, but only so the two of you can eat your breakfast while it’s still hot.

“You know I don’t want to keep it quiet, like, forever, right?” you ask out of nowhere, your memories of last night replaying over in your head while you ate. Jake looks up at you and cocks his head.

“I’m happy to do whatever you’d like to do, for as long as you’d like to do it,” he says matter of factly, but despite the sweetness of his words, you can’t help but frown at him.

“No you’re not, and we both know it,” you push back, grateful for his always tender manner of going at your pace, but you’d likely never have been with him in the first place if he hadn’t thrown you out of your comfort zone that first time.

The only difference is, now you are with Jake, and you understood these things about yourself, and how they weren’t always as scary as your mind might make them seem. Jake frowns back at you, clearly ready to protest.

“I know you pretty well too, you know,” you cut him off. “I know you like PDA, and that you wish you were able to be more open when we’re out with people. I know you like to show off, and part of that includes me,” you tell him adamantly, because you know you’re right.

Jake huffs out a sigh and leans back in his chair, looking at you dead on, you know him well enough to know he’s a little annoyed at you calling him out, but you aren’t doing it to annoy him or just for the sake of starting an argument.

“Okay, so what if I do? That doesn’t change the fact that until you want something, I’m not gonna go for it,” he says, still frowning at you like he doesn’t understand what the point of talking this through is even about.

You change tack and, with your heart beat thumping a little wildly, get up from your seat and move toward him. Even in his annoyance, Jake makes room for you, pushes out his chair and wraps his arms around your waist when you seat yourself on his thigh, your own arms linking around his neck.

“Well maybe I’m giving you permission to go for it,” you say softly, quietly, because the idea still does make you incredibly nervous. But you like Jake, no scratch that, you think you’re in love with Jake, and you think he’s in love with you too, and something about that feeling for once in your life makes you want the same things he does too, including the PDA. You want him to sling his arm around your neck, you want to be able to kiss his cheek or hold his hand or whatever it is you two want to do, not just in the comfort of your own homes, but out at the Hard Deck with your friends, too.

Jake blinks up at you, like at first your words don’t even register, but then he’s tightening his hold around your waist, and grinning wolfishly up at you, all cocky and infuriating if you didn’t find it utterly charming. If you didn’t completely adore him, even this part.

“Permission granted, Lieutenant?” he asks mischievously, and you can’t stop yourself from giggling, like you’re drunk all over again.

“Permission granted, Lieutenant!”

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin #hangman x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick #jake 'hangman' seresin fanfic #jake hangman seresin #top gun fanfiction

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year

Text

The Orange.

You and Jake share an orange. He’s in love with you.

Part 2 - For Eternity.

Pairing - Jake Seresin x female reader

Warnings - None

Word Count - 2047

Masterlist. Requests.

The air conditioning rattles gently, keeping you company. You’re sat at the bar of The Hard Deck, reading the book that’s been sitting forgotten on your nightstand for months. Outside, you can hear the cheering and yelling coming from the Dagger Squad, who are playing their new favourite game – Dog Fight Football. Ever since Maverick introduced it, they’ve been hooked, finding any reason to gather at the beach and take each other down.

You man the bar while Penny sits on the beach, watching her partner and his team sprint across the sand. Inevitably, soon they’ll all come running inside, requesting water, beer, and popsicles to cool their heated skin and flushed faces. You prefer to shelter yourself away from the sun during the day, and make the most of the warm summer nights that seem to last forever. You’re already mentally planning your evening – you’ll finish your shift, grab a drink, and walk down the beach, perhaps taking your book with you. You’ll sit on the cooling sand, rest your legs, and stay there until the ocean breeze gives you your cue to leave. You’ll offer Jake to join you, and he’ll make a big show of being sarcastically reluctant – but he’ll never say no to you. Those sunset conversations have become the best part of your days – and his.

Your friendship with Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin is a seemingly unlikely one. Arrogant, charming, decorated Naval Aviator meets intelligent, determined, stubborn waitress. When the Dagger Squad arrived in town for the uranium mission, Penny had given you a sarcastic, but slightly genuine warning.

“You better watch out, you know”, she says in passing one night. You quirk your eyebrow at her questioningly.

“These pilots. They’re gonna be all over you. Fresh new eye candy for them to fight over.” She winks at you cheekily and leaves you to serve another customer.

You knew it was always just convenience, for the Aviators. You were pretty, and witty, and served them their drinks every night. You were in their line of sight. They didn’t really want you, you were just available. Easy. Or so you thought.

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin showed up that night with the confidence of ten men. The minute he laid eyes on you, you felt it. Some sort of shift. A crack in your universe.

He’d sidled up to the bar with a swagger in his walk that should have been off putting – but strangely wasn’t. The moment you heard that thick drawl flow like honey from his lips, you knew you’d have to use every ounce of self control you possessed. He was gorgeous.

And cocky.

The man had gotten accustomed to having women throw themselves at his feet. All he had to do was flash that gleaming smile, and he’d have girls dropping their barriers – and their underwear. He was a ladies man, and he knew it. You were aware he only ever spent a night with them – having had to rescue him from many awkward confrontations at the bar, usually along the lines of, “why didn’t you call me back?” and “you said you’d make breakfast!”.

You, however, became the exception to his rule. You didn’t expect anything from him, just his kindness, which he would happily give you by the tonne. Your kindness though, is what started your friendship in the first place. Or maybe it was stupidity. You were still deciding.

It was a Friday night at The Hard Deck. The Squad were over by the pool tables, drinking, and throwing darts. You’d been subtly watching Hangman from your position behind the bar. He was bragging to Coyote about being able to hit the bullseye with his eyes closed, and proceeded to demonstrate. He closed his eyes, hit the target, and reopened them to be met with an angry brunette with a point to prove.

“Excuse me, Hangman! You think you can just sneak out of my house, not call me, and then come in here and play darts like nothing happened?”

She jabs her finger angrily into his chest, but he doesn’t move. Stubborn man.

“Sweetheart,” he drawls, “let’s not do this here. I’m sorry I didn’t call. But I thought you knew; it was just a one time thing.”

He lays his charm on thick, and you see her falter for a minute. You’re almost willing her to give up, and save herself the inevitable embarrassment. But lo and behold, she continues.

She’s shouting now, yelling about his treatment of women, and how he should be ashamed, how he led her on with his false intentions. His squad are watching silently, attempting to stifle the laughter that threatens to bubble up between them. Javy has managed to take a few subtle steps back, as if to get as far away as possible from the danger zone.

She’s still yelling, and he’s just stood there, with that damned smirk on his face, taking it. You know whatever he’s going to say next is undoubtedly going to shred the poor girl’s self confidence, so, without much thought, you move from behind the bar, and make your way to the scene.

Placing your hand on his ridiculously toned bicep, you look up at him, praying that he’ll understand what you’re trying to silently say. You’re saving him.

“Babe, what’s going on?”, you ask cluelessly, as if you hadn’t been watching the entire situation unfold from mere feet away.

“Babe?”, she yells, more at the universe than at either of you.

Jake, for once, doesn’t quite know what to say. So, you continue.

“Yeah. I have no idea what’s happening, but I think we should talk.”

You look at him pointedly, and he seems to get the message. You apologise to the girl quickly, and drag Jake away, through the bar and out of the back door, into the cool evening air. You speak before he has the chance to.

“Please, Hangman. Keep your soap opera disaster of a love life out of my bar. No one wants to see it.”

It’s your turn now to jab your pointer finger into his chest. You expect him to snap back with a sarcastic remark, or to laugh. But he doesn’t. He just looks at you. Really looks. As if he’s seeing you for the first time, despite you serving him his beers every time he comes into the bar. Eventually, he speaks.

“You really are an angel, aren’t you?”

It’s your turn to look at him now. That wasn’t what you expected. You scoff, and raise your eyebrows at him.

“Seriously, Jake. It isn’t my business what you do with your spare time, but please, save us all from having to watch the car crash every week.”

He laughs. A real, genuine, hearty laugh, that settles itself into your ribs, into the cavity of your chest. You’ve never heard him laugh like that. It makes you like him more. Damn.

“I’m kinda done with it all anyway.”

“Done with what?”

“The sleeping around. One night stands. None of those girls are half as interesting or half as pretty as you.”

He’s looking at you again. You’re determined not to let him get under your skin, so you bark,

“Yeah, right. Bet you say that to all the girls, huh, Seresin?”

He laughs, and then pauses, million dollar smile still etched on his face.

“I’m serious. You won’t have to rescue me like that again, Angel. That’s a promise.”

He winks at you, and you swat his arm, before grabbing his hand and leading him back inside.

That was months ago.

Since then, you’ve spent an increasing amount of time with him. Laughing, joking, teasing. His friendship is more valuable than his weight in gold, you’re convinced, and you lower your guard ever so slightly. He’s worth letting in. You know he is. Warnings be damned.

You smell him before you see him when he enters the bar. He smells like cologne, salt, and sunshine – so distinct, so Jake. You’d bottle it up if you could, store a vial in every room in your house.

You feel him before you see him when he makes his way over to you. Feel his body get closer, the heat radiating off him. You can almost feel the salt on his skin when he plasters himself against your back, kissing the top of your head affectionately.

“Mmm, you smell good. What you reading, Angel?”

He’s moved to sit on the stool next to you. At this angle, you get a better look at him. He’s not wearing a shirt, golden skin on display. Begging for you to touch it, run your fingers along it, your tongue. You know he’d taste like the ocean and the sky simultaneously. Sunshine boy.

You pull yourself back to reality, and show him the cover of your book.

“Ah, smart girl.”

The praise lights up your bones, seems to settle into your ribs. You know, like all friendship does.

You look at him, and clock him watching you. He’s looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

Jake Seresin is in love with you.

You can see it clear as day, all of a sudden. Like you’ve been looking at him through a fog, a mist, and it’s evaporated without a warning.

He’s in love with you.

Unbeknownst to you, he’s kept his promise from that night. No more girls, no more one night stands. Since that evening, he’s only had one woman on his mind. You.

You’ve become suddenly aware of all of this, and you don’t know what to do with it. What about your friendship? What if this jeopardises everything? Losing him would be your worst nightmare. You’d rather have him as a friend than not have him at all.

But then, you realise, that’s not going to happen. Because he’s in love with you. And like a freight train, it hits you. You’re in love with him. You have been since the moment he stepped foot in the bar, all self-assured attitude and golden hair and bright eyes. You’re in love with Jake Seresin and he’s in love with you and the world is suddenly making sense. The final piece of the jigsaw puzzle has been placed and you don’t know whether to laugh or cry or scream or dance or all four or none at all.

So you stand, and make your way behind the bar. You slide a glass of ice cold water in front of him, and grab an orange. It’s ripe, bright and feels like a ball of light in your hand. A promise.

You sit back in your original position, on the stool next to his, but turn to face him. Carefully, you peel the orange, bit by bit. Juice runs down your fingers onto the palm of your hand, and without thinking, Jake grabs your wrist and traces the journey of the drop with his tongue. You look up through your lashes and smile at him gently, and continue to peel, slowly, deliberately. When you’re satisfied, you split the orange, and hand one half to him.

The air conditioning rattles gently, keeping you company. You eat in silence, stopping occasionally to inhale the smell of citrus, salt, and sunshine.

Jake reaches out as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, and runs his thumb across your bottom lip carefully. He places his thumb in his mouth, and sucks gently.

You’re not sure if it’s you, or him, or gravity, but somehow, you’ve ended up sat with your legs in between his, facing each other. Orange finished, he leans in, and brushes your lips with his. He tastes like citrus, and salt, and sunshine. So distinctly Jake, that you’d bottle it if you could. He pulls back, resting his forehead on yours. There’s a warmth emanating from him that you’re sure isn’t solely from the sun. You haven’t been outside in hours, and you’re omitting it too.

It feels like hours that you sit there, foreheads pressed together, orange peel abandoned on the bar top. Neither of you needs to speak. You both know exactly what the other person is thinking.

Jake Seresin is in love with you. Nothing else matters.

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youronlydarlin · 3 months

Note

Did "bit late" is with us in room? Because it was the fastest answer i got in my whole 10 years in fandoms!

And yeah if you can try to write Nikolai then i would be thankful! It could be anything just don't force yourself and if you can't just say or not :3 ( and I started thinking that I am "bit late" looking at how long it took me to write this 😭 )

Ohhh, one thing about the big, big Russian man is that it's dangerous to trust him. As he is an equally dangerous man. You shouldn't always agree to what he says, most often than not they'll have a hidden meaning to them. But you're so sweet :( unlike the others who walk on eggshells around him. Openly willing to converse with the scary man dawning a leather jacket, and aviators. And that's exactly what he loves about you. So soft n' pretty. He hasn't had anything supple to sink his teeth onto in a while. And the exposed skin of your legs from the shorts you're wearing are really doing him in.

So with a toothy grin, and lidded eyes he's cranking up his charm to a thousand. Convincing you to be his little helper around the workshop. You're so ecstatic, its positively adorable. The first few days were experimental to be sure. You had proper knowledge of tools, and how they work which made everything a whole lot easier. Though, Nikolai isn't surprised to know that you possess both brains, and beauty, only pleased.

He's really thought he was being slick though. Having pretty you traipsing around in one if his shirts after he "accidentally" spilled some oil onto your sweater. That plan soon backfiring as he wasn't fully prepared for the sight of you in the fabric.

By god's, you're breathtaking

Wether the fabric is too tight or too loose on your body he deems it as a perfect fit. The overall material of it is is dark, almost see through. Like satin on your skin, you could stretch at the sleeves without it tearing. Nik is too busy ogling your chest to make out your little 'thank you's' for the shirt.

It hasn't been the same from then on, you'd never know how he beats his cock to the scent you left behind on the piece of fabric, holding it up to his nose and roughly palming at his cock. Trying to mimic how tightly you would squeeze him, and he's all too suddenly closing his eyes. Jaw clenching as he sprays his cum all over the bathroom sink. Getting some of it on the mirror. He hopes he wasn't loud enough to have alerted you from behind the bathroom door. But the mere sight of you has him chubbing up in his pants. So he isn't to blame for the frequenting bathroom brakes, is he now, solnyshko?

a/n: AHHH m' sorry for making you wait, dear!! I had things that needed tending to. I hope this was to your liking!! S' my first time writing for Nikolai, I hope I did his character justice, and this was so much fun to do! He's just so 😳 N e way, I hope you enjoy this, lovely!!

Yours, truly,

–Dolly

#cod x reader #cod imagine #call of duty x reader #cod x reader smut #cod nikolai #nikolai x reader #x gn reader #x female reader #x male reader #cod nikolai x reader

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beyondthesefourwalls · 3 months

Text

An Aviation Special

Summary: You had always wanted to experience Mardi Gras in New Orleans, but when it starts to go sideways thanks to your travel companions, you fear the whole trip, maybe even the whole city, has been ruined for you. But then a handsome stranger swoops in when some drunk idiot gets too handsy, and your night takes an unexpected turn for the better.

Pairing: Javy Machado x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Fluff galore, language, drunk idiots and handsy men, mentions of flashing.

Notes: Written for @thedroneranger's pick your poison challenge, with a Mardi Gras board of my dreams.

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You were doing your best not to panic, choosing instead to focus on the annoyance coursing through your body instead. Your sister and her friends, her stupid, reckless friends, had done what they always did and got a little too wild, and while you had slipped away to the bathroom, they thought it would be a great idea to switch bars. Instead of waiting for you, they had shot a text to the Bachelorette Bead Bash group chat that you had created, telling you where to meet them. Only now you were there, and they were nowhere to be found. And to top it all off, your phone was dead.

“Stupid, stupid bridesmaids,” you muttered under your breath, pushing through the rowdy crowd of people none-too-gently to get to the bar. You tried not to cringe when you felt how sticky it was, immediately withdrawing your hands. “Excuse me,” you said, speaking a little louder when at first you didn’t get the bartender’s attention. He turned to you with a bored, exasperated look on his face, clearly annoyed with all the drunk tourists taking up space. “Do you happen to have a phone charger? I just need it for long enough to make one phone call, I promise.”

“No, sorry.”

You groaned as he walked away without another word, resisting the urge to stomp your foot in frustration. This was just your luck.

“I don’t have a charger, but flash your tits for me, gorgeous, and I’ll give you some of these beads.”

You turned your head to the drunk idiot standing far too close to you, a scowl on your deep purple painted lips as he shook the aforementioned colorful beads in your face. He reeked of sweat and cheap liquor and his eyes were glazed over as he leered at you.

“How about you take those beads and strangle yourself with them instead?” you snarked back, and to your disgust, the guy and his buddies only laughed. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, turning away from him and taking a step to start forcing yourself through the throngs of bodies that were almost certainly violating some sort of fire code. You didn’t get far before a hand was grabbing your arm, jolting you back.

“Come on, baby, you know you want to.”

The panic was trying its best to creep up again, but the annoyance was also morphing into anger as you narrowed your eyes. You were contemplating the risk of slapping him across the face when a voice spoke up from beside you.

“I think she said no, man. But those girls over there look pretty eager.”

The guy almost stumbled in his intoxication when he turned to see where the newcomer was indicating, shouting in excitement at the view of three women standing on a table pulling their shirts up as plastic flung in their direction. Him and his friends moved in that direction without another glance at you. The bouncer of the bar was also heading their way, and you breathed a sigh of relief that not only were the guys leaving you alone, but hopefully those women would make it out of here safely, too.

“Pawning my problem off on other women goes against every feminist bone in my body,” you said, turning for the first time to put a face to the voice who had come to your rescue. You’re met with a startling pair of dark eyes and a jawline that should be illegal. His smile was warm and amused, and despite all the irritation you were feeling, you couldn’t help but take a moment and think damn.

“It seemed like they would welcome the attention a lot more than you were,” he justified, and his voice was as smooth this time as it was the first time he spoke. You gave a noncommittal hum in response, and he raised a thick eyebrow as his smile grew. “You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t say thank you.”

“Were you planning to?” he challenged, and you felt a fluttering in your stomach at his playful tone. You contemplated for a moment, eyes narrowed and colorful lips pursed. You could see the amusement dancing in his gaze as he stared back at you, waiting.

“Thank you,” you finally said, only a little bit begrudgingly, and the stranger nodded in satisfaction.

“You’re welcome,” he repeated. “Also, there’s a place a few bars down that has a charging station. I overheard you asking the bartender.”

"Oh my god," you groaned in relief, "are you serious?"

He laughed, the sound washing over you. He motioned for you to follow him through the crowd toward the exit. You hesitated for a moment, remembering that you were in a city you had never been in before during their busiest tourist week of the year, and you didn't know this man. But then a cheer came from the corner, and when you glanced over, one of the guys from earlier had climbed on the table and taken off his shirt, plastic beads flying everywhere. You winced and turned back, nodding once. As you made your way out of the bar and onto the bustling street, you couldn't help but notice how effortlessly he navigated through the chaos.

"I'm Javy, by the way," he offered once you made it onto the sidewalk.

"Nice to meet you," you replied, offering up your name in return. He stuck close to you as he guided you down the overly crowded streets. You tried your best to ignore the lingering unease that clung to the back of your mind, but you found that his confident demeanor made it easy. "Are you a local?" you asked.

He flashed you a charming smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I used to be," he explained. "I grew up here, but I live in California currently. But New Orleans will always be home in a lot of ways. I take it you're not?"

"No," you snorted, narrowly avoiding running into someone running in the opposite direction. Your arm brushed against Javy's as you pushed slightly closer to him, and you tried to ignore the heat that the slight touch caused. "I'm here for my sister's bachelorette party. The city had always been on our bucket list to travel to together, but then her friends decided they wanted to overtake the whole trip and make it Mardi Gras of all times."

"I take it you don't like these friends?" he asked, a hint of humor in his voice.

You gave him the biggest smile you had since you met him a few minutes ago, and he was laughing before you even spoke the words. "Understatement of the century."

You go on to tell him about how they had pretty much blown the itinerary you had carefully crafted as maid of honor, including how they left to go to the next bar without you, and then not been there when you showed up. You weren't sure why you were telling a man you didn't know all of this, but it felt good to say it out loud nonetheless.

"They sound like they suck," he said plainly once you were done explaining. You let out a very unladylike snort as you agreed.

"What about you?" you asked, "what brings you back?"

"Ironically enough, I'm here for my best friend's bachelor party. There may have been an incident with a few of the groomsmen getting drinks thrown on them, and I ran into one of my cousins at the bar we were just at, so I told them I'd meet up with them once they came back out from going back to the hotel to change." He flashed you another smile, his eyes shining with a genuine warmth. "I suppose everything happens for a reason, though."

You chuckled, and he winked as you arrived at what you guessed was your destination. Javy held the door open for you, gesturing for you to enter first. Inside, the bar was as lively as the others you had been to, but the atmosphere was strangely inviting. You followed as he led you to the back corner where a row of charging stations lined the wall. You tried not to groan when you saw all of them were in use.

“Clearly I’m not the only one in New Orleans who went out without a fully charged phone tonight,” you muttered under your breath. A gentle hand on your arm had you turning your gaze to the man who had led you here, his dark, kind eyes meeting yours.

“Let me buy you a drink while you wait for one to open up.”

You hesitated for a moment, weighing your options. There was something about Javy that intrigued you, a magnetic pull that you hadn't felt in a very long time that made you want to spend more time in his company. You desperately needed to charge your phone and get in touch with your sister and her friends, so you'd be waiting here no matter what anyway...there was no harm in a drink, you rationalized.

"Sure," you finally said, unable to resist his charming smile. "A drink sounds great."

You followed him to the bar, squeezing through the crowd until you found a spot where you could lean against the counter.

As you waited for someone behind the bar to notice you, Javy leaned in closer, his warm breath brushing against your ear. "What would you like?" he asked, his voice tinged with what you thought was anticipation.

You turned to face him, feeling a jolt of electricity shoot through your veins as your eyes met. His gaze was intense, yet inviting, pulling you into a world of possibilities. "Surprise me," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the clamor of the bar.

With a mischievous grin, Javy flagged down the bartender. You couldn't hear what it was that he ordered, but before long, two stemmed cocktail glasses filled with a vibrant purple liquid garnished with a lemon peel and a deep red cherry were set down in front of you. "Mardi Gras special?" you asked with an eyebrow raise. He laughed as he grabbed both drinks and then nodded his head toward one of the barstools at the very end of the charging station that had just opened up. You hurried over to it before someone else could, sliding onto the barstool almost clumsily. Javy made himself comfortable leaning against the counter beside your stool, facing you. He handed you one of the drinks after you had plugged your dead phone in. Making the conscious decision to enjoy your time with him as much as you could, you placed the screen face down.

"It's called an Aviation, actually."

He looked almost amused as he brought the drink to his lips. You studied him closely as you did the same, letting the flavors of the gin and lemon dance on your tastebuds.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"It's delicious."

"I'm glad you like it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He watched you intently, and you didn't miss the way his eyes flickered to your lips when you licked away a stray drop of the liquid when you took another sip. The air crackled with tension, and you had to fight the urge to lean closer to him. He cleared his throat, looking away momentarily. You tampered down the shiver that threatened to run through you.

"So why'd you leave New Orleans?" you asked, breaking the silence.

"Work," he explained."I'm in the Navy, so I've lived all over the place."

"The Navy, huh?"

He hummed in confirmation.That glint in his eyes that made you feel like you were missing something was back, and your eyes narrowed in curiosity. "And what do you do in the Navy?"

A smirk played on his lips. He tried to cover it by taking another sip of his drink, but you saw right through it. He set the glass down, folding his hands together as he stared at you. "I'm an aviator."

You paused for a beat, looking down at the purple drink before looking back at him, the joke you had been missing clicking into place in your head.

"Okay," you said slowly, and Javy was already chuckling from his spot beside you. "I see what you did here."

His laughter was loud, but not obnoxiously so, instead surrounding you like a comforting warmth. You couldn't help but join in with him, your giggles blending seamlessly with his.

The atmosphere around you seemed to fade into the background as the two of you talked, the conversation flowing easily between you. The more you learned about Javy, the more intrigued you became. His passion for flying was evident in every word he spoke, and it was contagious. You found yourself hanging onto his every word, mesmerized by his experiences and adventures. And when you spoke, he listened with genuine interest, occasionally interjecting with laughter or witty remarks. The more you talked, the more drawn you felt to him. There was something about his easy charm and attentive nature that made you feel seen and understood.

Eventually, your phone buzzed with a notification, indicating that it had finally regained some charge. Reluctantly, you flipped it over and glanced at the screen. Reading through the few messages that you missed in the chat, you snorted in disbelief. "My sister and three of her bridesmaids started throwing up at the last bar they went to."

"Yikes," Javy winced. "Are they okay?"

Your heart fluttered at the concern he showed for people he didn't even know. Damn damn damn.

"They're fine," you assured him with a small smile. "The other two have already dragged them back to the hotel to sleep it off. Guess the night is over."

You felt sad as you said the words. The night had started a shit show, but talking to Javy had turned it around. You weren't really ready for it to come to an end just yet.

As you reached to unplug your phone, Javy's hand gently clasped yours, halting your movement. "You don't need to rush off just yet," he said softly, his warm gaze holding yours. "Why don't you come hang out with me and my friends instead?"

You looked at him in surprise, shocked by the offer.

"Don't you think your best friend will be mad that I'm crashing his bachelor party?"

"Not even a little bit," he assured you. "They're all good guys, I promise."

You chewed on your bottom lip as you contemplated.

You knew that you should decline. Going off with a group of strangers in a city you barely knew didn't exactly scream "intelligent decision." Still, you found that you wanted to take him up on it.

Reading the apprehension on your face, Javy continued on, more eager now as he tried to convince you. "Look, as a Louisiana boy, I can't bring myself to allow you to leave New Orleans without actually enjoying yourself. You deserve to have a good time." His hand settled on yours again and squeezed gently. When he spoke, he was shyer than he had been all night. "And if I'm being honest with myself...the last thirty minutes with you have been the highlight of my trip home, and that's saying something. I'm not really ready for it to end yet."

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You gazed into his eyes, searching for any hint of deceit or ulterior motive. But all you found was sincerity and an excitement that you felt flicker in you, too. Against your better judgment, you nodded. You were tired of playing by the rules, tired of always being the responsible one. Maybe tonight could be different.

"Alright," you conceded, unable to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Lead the way."

Javy's grin widened, and he intertwined his fingers with yours before guiding you out of the crowded bar. The night air hit you with a welcome change as you followed him through the lively streets.

His friends waited at a bar just a few blocks away. As you approached, their laughter and boisterous conversation spilled onto the sidewalk. When they saw Javy walking hand in hand with you, their eyes widened with surprise. Almost instantly, the cat calls started.

Javy rolled his eyes, and you couldn't help but laugh lightly as you leant against him. "Yeah, yeah. Knock it off."

He introduced you to each of his friends amongst their teasing. They were a rowdy group, and it wasn't hard to see how much they cared for each other. The camaraderie instantly calmed you.

It was surprisingly easy, letting yourself have fun with this group of strangers. They accepted your presence like it was nothing, involving you in every conversation and debate they had, and within a few hours, you felt like you had known them for a lot longer than you really had. The night continued on, a whirlwind of pretty purple drinks and colorful masks and exuberant laughter. Vibrant jazz music reverberated through the air, the streets full of purple, gold and green chaos. You could feel the pulsating energy of the city surging through you, and this is exactly why you had always wanted to come here.

At some point, Javy grabbed your hand, beckoning you to dance with him. You giggled happily as he twirled you. The world around you melted away, leaving only the pulsating music and the warmth of his touch. You were tipsy from all the alcohol and the thrill of an unexpected night with a man who made you feel something no one else ever has. You wished it wouldn’t have to end.

“Me either,” he said, making you realize you had said that out loud. But instead of feeling embarrassed at your slip, you giggled and leant into him further.

“I mean it,” you insisted. Javy’s smile had become familiar to you tonight, and the butterflies erupted in your stomach just as they had the last few hours when he flashed it in your direction. “You know, you’d make the perfect wedding date, if only you didn’t live so far away.”

He hummed in what you thought was agreement, but didn’t say anything. The look he gave you was contemplative, like there was something he was trying to figure out. “What?” you asked.

“When’s the wedding?”

You threw your head back in laughter, realizing what he was getting at. “Still a few months away. You’ll have completely forgotten about me by then, I’m sure.”

Javy's eyes sparkled as he pulled you even closer, his hand still holding yours tightly. "Oh, I highly doubt that," he replied, and the way his voice dropped sent shivers down your spine. "Seriously. When's the wedding?"

"The second weekend in May."

"If I'm not deployed, I'll be there."

You shook your head in disbelief as more giggles escaped, completely enraptured by this man. "Sure, Javy."

His smile softened and he raised a hand to cup your face, and you couldn't help but instinctively lean into his touch as his thumb brushed your skin. "I mean it. I want to be there. With you." You searched his eyes for a long moment, searching for anything other than the sincerity and tenderness staring back at you. You felt a rush of emotions when you found none. In that moment, looking at you the way that he was, he felt like so much more than just a stranger you met on a wild night out in New Orleans.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you raised on your toes and pressed your lips against his.

The kiss was soft at first, gentle and sweet, but it quickly deepened into something more passionate. For a moment, you hesitated, wondering if this was the right thing to do, but then you realized that you didn't care. You found yourself lost in him, and everything else faded away. All of the tension that had been building between the two of you that night was pushed into this one moment. You nearly stumbled at the intensity, but Javy just pulled you closer and kissed you harder. He tasted like gin and lemons and cherry from the purple drink you both had been drinking all night, and you realized it tasted even better from him.

Finally, the two of you broke apart, both panting heavily. You gazed at each other as you tried to catch your breath. Your heart was pounding in your chest as he brushed some of your hair out of your face.

You swallowed thickly before speaking, your voice trembling just slightly. "I want you there, too," you said, and you knew it was crazy, but you also knew you meant it.

A slow grin spread across his face, and before you could say anything else, Javy's lips were back on yours.

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Main Masterlist

Notes: I'm kind of feeling a part two? Maybe? I'm actually so in love with this man, it's unreal.

Thanks to @thedroneranger for the incredible banner, and to @roosterforme @mak-32 for their help, and to @sylviebell for catching an embarrassing amount of typos after I thought I was already done editing

#alli writes #javy coyote machado x reader #javy machado #javy machado imagine #javy machado x reader #javy coyote machado #javy machado fic #javy machado x you #javy coyote machado x you #javy coyote machado x oc #coyote x you #coyote x reader #javy machado appreciation

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gaymindcontrol · 8 months

Text

The Traffic Stop

David was driving home after a long day in the office. He was still dressed in his work tee and jeans, driving with the windows down and the music on full volume. He was trying to shake off the stress from the day and take in the brisk autumn air.

He exited the freeway that he was traveling on and noticed a Police car following him. He knew that he had been speeding.

“Shit.” he quickly muffled to himself.

In a flash, the car’s lights and sirens were engaged and David knew he needed to find a place to pull over.

Shortly ahead, there was an abandoned Gas Station that had plenty of room for both David’s truck and the pursuing Police Officer’s vehicle. Once David pulled over, he waited about 5 minutes before the Officer exited his vehicle. He was about 6’ tall with a slender yet muscular build. His hair was brown and short, perfectly styled. He was wearing a pair of Aviator sunglasses and… dangling a lit cigarette from his mouth?

“People still smoke cigarettes in 2023?” David asked himself.

David’s Father was a smoker when David was young, but he quit years ago. David only knew because his Father is seen smoking in some of his own baby pictures. None of David’s buddies were smokers, and they all frowned upon the habit pretty heavily.

As the Officer approached David’s truck, he removed his sunglasses. David began to roll down the window. The office spoke in a deep, commanding voice.

“Do you know why I pulled you over today, boy?” asked the Officer, rather firmly.

“Well, I do believe… I’m sorry, did you just call me boy?” David responded, shocked.

The Officer took a long drag on his cigarette and took it from his mouth, simultaneously flicking the ash to the ground and blowing a thick cloud of smoke into the surrounding air. “Yes, I did. I’m approaching my mid-40s and you’re what… no older than 25-30 years old? To me, you’re a boy.” answered the officer.

David was unsure how to respond, as he has always respected the Police, but this entire situation just seemed odd to him. “I understand, Officer. My apologies for questioning you. I believe you pulled me over because I was speeding.” he said, hoping that coming clean would keep him from paying a fine.

The officer immediately responded, “That would be correct, boy. Now I’m going to need to see your license and registration.”

David handed over his documentation and remained in the vehicle. The officer went back to his patrol car and got inside. David looked in his rear view mirror and noticed that the lights on the patrol car that were previously flashing red and blue appeared to be flashing an odd green and purple.

“No, that can’t be right…” David said as he shook his head, thinking he may be seeing things. He looked in his rear view mirror again and now the lights appeared to be red and blue again, but there was still something off about them. Almost like a little extra light with every flash.

“These are actually kind of nice to watch” David thought to himself. He continued to watch them until, well… David wasn’t sure. Everything went black and he felt so incredibly relaxed. He felt like he could stay in this place, wherever it may be, forever.

Suddenly, David got a strong whiff of cigarette smoke. “I’m back with your documents, boy. Put them back and step out of the vehicle.” the officer commanded.

“Yes, sir.” David responded without thought. As David opened his eyes to put his documents back, he thought, “why did I call him sir?”

“Everything alright, boy?” the Officer asked, a little firmer than before, and David felt his mind relaxing again. Any thoughts of this situation being unusual left his mind instantly.

“Yes, sir.” David responded again, without thought. Instinctively, David performed his next command and stepped out of the vehicle. He shut his door and stood in front of the officer waiting for his next order.

It didn’t come immediately. David continued to stand in place staring into the Officer’s face as he dangled his cigarette from his mouth and took continuous drags. The smoke was blowing directly into David’s face, but he didn’t mind in his current state.

David never considered himself to be gay, but everything about this Officer simply captivated him. His hair, his face, his voice, his body, and his uniform. His boots. The way he dangled a cigarette between his lips and blew thick clouds of smoke from his mouth and nose.

“Do you smoke, boy?” the Officer asked David.

“No, I don’t smoke, Sir.” David replied coldly.

“Have you ever been a smoker?” followed up the Officer.

“No, I have never been a smoker, sir. I have always found smoking quite repulsing.” David replied as he continued to stare into the Officer’s face.

The Officer paused and stared back at David. He appeared to be thinking about how to handle David, and what to do next.

“Do you find it repulsing when I smoke, boy?” the Officer questioned David.

“No, Sir. You do not repulse me, Sir.” David replied, blankly.

“Good. I think there’s some hope for you then.” the Officer smirked.

David didn’t understand the command. “Sir?” he hopefully asked.

The Officer chuckled. “See this here in my uniform pocket? These are my smokes. Marlboro. Marlboro Reds. The first time I smoked a red, I knew there was no turning back. The way that it made my lungs feel. Stronger. Full. It made my cock hard, instantly. I was only 17, but it made me a man. Boys don’t smoke, men do. Do you understand?”

After listening to the Officer’s relaxing, yet commanding voice, David was struggling to keep his eyes open let alone speak. “Y… Ye… Yes… Sir… Boys don’t smoke… Men do…” he managed to stumble out.

“Good, boy.” the Officer responded. He then blew a thick cloud of smoke into David’s face. David’s body immediately tensed up. David could taste and smell every ounce of smoke in the air. He felt it infiltrating his nose, his mouth, his lungs. His cock even become fully erect. Even harder than usual, it seemed.

As the Office continued to stand in front of David, smoking away, David felt a desire growing inside of him. It was so strong that it felt like it could rip him apart from the inside out, if he didn’t satisfy it. David couldn’t quite determine what the desire was. He just knew that it had to do with the Officer. His new master.

With a snap of the Officer’s fingers, David instinctively knew what the growing desire was. It was to smoke. It was to be a real man. Without thinking, his arm raised from his side and reached for the officer’s front pocket of his uniform. David removed the contents, a pack of Marlboro Red cigarettes and a silver Zippo lighter. Though David had never smoked a day in his life, he knew how to proceed. He removed a cigarette from the pack and placed it between his lips, willingly, even eagerly. He flipped the lid of the Zippo and struck the wheel. A flame emerged from the Zippo and David placed it in front of his cigarette, dragging deeply as it lit.

He exhaled and took a deep drag on the Marlboro Red, allowing the delicious smoke to enter and fill his lungs. Take over his body and his mind. Another drag, and another. David couldn’t get enough. His actions seemed to make the Officer very happy.

“Mmm. How does it feel boy? To be a real man? To smoke a red?” the Officer asked.

“It feels amazing, Sir. So much pleasure. So relaxed…” David replied, in between drags on his nearly finished cigarette.

“You’re a natural, David. Have another.” the Officer commanded.

“Yes, Sir. I need another red, Sir.” David begged.

Once again, he withdrew a cigarette and lit it. Sucking on it deep, filling his lungs with the rich smoke over and over again. It had gotten dark, and the Officer seemed to be interested in a little more fun with David, before moving on to his next stop.

“How about this, boy? I’ll let you go without a ticket today, but I’m going to need you to follow a few more commands. Do you think you can handle that?” the Officer questioned.

“Yes, Sir. Anything, Sir. Will obey, Sir.” David helplessly replied.

“Perfect. As I said, you’re a natural. Now get into the back of my squad car, and lay on your stomach.”

David stomped out his cigarette and complied. The Officer leaned in behind David and pulled David’s jeans down to his knees. David could hear the Officer unzip his own pants. David never imagined he would be in a situation like this, but he was so turned on. Even if he wasn’t, he’s not sure that he could resist the temptation of this handsome Officer.

He heard the sound of the Zippo lighter and sensed the now familiar taste and smell of a Marlboro. He began to relax again, knowing he would not be resisting any Officer today.

David felt something warm and wet on his asshole. Lube? Than the Officer’s rough hands, and fingers. “Ooooo…” David spluttered.

“This may be a new experience for you, boy, but I promise you’re going to love every second of it. As long as you relax and obey.” the Officer said.

“Relax. Obey. Relax. Obey.” David found himself repeating inside of his head.

Something began to penetrate David. He was so relaxed, but it was painful. “Please, Sir. It hurts, Sir.” David begged.

“Don’t worry, boy. That’s just my cock. It’s on the larger size, but you’ll get used to it if you just relax.” the Officer emphasized.

“Relax. Obey. Relax. Obey.” David found himself repeating again. He could feel the Officer’s cock penetrating him deeper, until the Officer was completely inside of David. David sporadically began thrashing his arms trying to find something, anything to dig his fingers into. It hurt so much.

Suddenly, David felt something touch his lips. He knew exactly what it was. The Officer had placed his own lit Marlboro into David’s hungry lips. David took a deep drag and felt his body relax again instantly. There was no pain. There were no worries. Just David, his Marlboro Red, and the Officer’s thick, sweet cock.

Seeing David smoking again seemed to excite the Officer, as he began to pump his cock in and out of David’s tight hole. David moaned loudly, but there was no one around to hear. As David continued to smoke, the Officer continued to pound harder. David’s head was even beginning to hit the inside of the opposing rear vehicle door.

“Now we’re getting somewhere, boy. Fuck. Fuck yeah. How does it feel?” the Officer asked.

A few minutes ago, David would have responded that it was painful and terrifying. Now, however… “So good, Sir. Must obey, Sir. Fuck me, Sir. Please, Sir.” David managed to moan out.

As the Officer continued to pound David, all of the sensations began to overwhelm him. His lungs were begging for more smoke. His ass was begging for more cock. His brain was begging him to relax and obey. David’s eyes began to roll into the back of his head. He was unable to process anything further. He was stuck in a state of pleasure and ecstasy.

David’s own cock began to throb so violently that it was actually shaking. David could feel the rest of his body begin to shake, too. He knew he was reaching the point of ejaculation.

The Officer lit another cigarette and continued to fuck David from behind. “I forgot to tell you, boy. You cannot cum until you hear the snap of my fingers. I’m going to take my time, and so will you.” the Officer ordered.

“Yeeeeesssss Siiiiirrrrrr….” David groaned. The Officer placed another Marlboro into David’s mouth and lit it. David again took a deep drag and felt his stress and worries flow away. Nothing else mattered to him in that moment.

The Officer pressed down on David’s neck as the thrusting became more and more intense. David’s head was turned to the side so he could continue to smoke while the Officer watched, as he freely fucked David.

David heard the sound of a snap, and the next thing he knew his body began to shake once again. He continued to suck down his Marlboro as he felt the Officer’s cock draining deep inside of him. David’s own cock had never felt more pleasure in his entire life. It was pouring cum onto the backseat of the Patrol Car. David felt incredibly sweaty and sticky, but more satisfied than he had felt in his entire life.

The Officer put away his serviced cock and zipped up his uniform pants. “Pull up your pants and get out of the car.” the Officer ordered.

David obeyed once again. He got out of the patrol car, and stood at attention in front of the Officer, awaiting his next order. “With the next snap of my fingers, you will forget this experience. You will remember it as just another traffic stop, and a friendly cop who let you off without a ticket. However, from this moment on you are a smoker. You will not remember why you started smoking or how, but you will know internally that Marlboro Reds are a part of you now and you need them to survive. If you feel like something else is missing from your life, you will stop down to our station. That means that you enjoyed the experience today and want to experience it again, and I can certainly make that happen, David.”

With that, the Officer stuck a fresh pack of Marlboro Reds in David’s tee shirt pocket. He snapped his fingers, and David suddenly appeared lost and confused. “Uhh… I’m sorry… what’s going on here?” David asked quietly.

“Nothing out of the ordinary, bro. Just another traffic stop, but all seems well here and you are free to go on your way.” the Officer responded, smirking.

“Oh, great! Thank you, Officer.” David replied.

“No, David. Thank you.” the Officer said with a wink of his eye, as he lit up another cigarette.

David got back into his truck and pulled the door shut. He reached back to pull his seatbelt, when he noticed the pack of Marlboro Reds in this pocket. “This day has been so fucking stressful.” David sighed. He lit up a red, put his truck in drive, and pulled back onto the main road. He waved a friendly goodbye to the Officer, who was still parked.

A moment later, the Officer placed a call over his radio. “This is Officer Fulmer. I’ve got another recruit, Sarge. His name is David. Good looking guy, very open to suggestion. May need to be trained up a little. I expect we will see him at the station within the next day or two.” the Officer explained.

“10-4, Officer Fulmer. Return to the freeway for patrol.” the Sargeant responded.

“Yes, Sir. Must obey, Sir.” Officer Fulmer mumbled.

Officer Fulmer lit up another red, rolled down his cruiser window, and pulled a U-Turn to return to the freeway. He couldn’t wait to find and transition another recruit for his Sargeant.

#gay #hypnosis #mindcontrol #smoker #Marlboro #marlbororeds #gay hypnosis

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applebutter-and-cinnamon · 11 months

Text

The Night Before

Summary: The time shared before Jake leaves for deployment.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Warning: mentions of deployment, time spent apart, slight angst, some fluff

Read More: Coming Home (Can be read as Part 2)

You knew what you were getting into when you'd agreed to your first date together. It didn't mean that you were prepared for it. Dating a Naval Aviator, one of the best who was in a squadron with other, equally talented aviators, it was only a matter of time before the Navy called on them again.

You'd met Jake after the dagger squad had returned from their first mission together, before they had been grouped together permanently. Your first date together had gone so much better than you had thought it would, but Jake had amazed you with. You learned that he was more than his dazzling green eyes. He was smart, witty, and compassionate.

Now, 3 months later you found yourself in his living room, cuddling up next to him on the couch. He'd turned on a movie at some point after the two of you had spent hours memorizing the lines of each others bodies. His hand was resting on your knee and your head was laying against his arm. You were trying to soak up as much of him as you could before he left tomorrow, breathing in the smell of his cologne and basking in the warmth of his skin against yours.

"Where's your pretty little mind, Sweetheart?" Jake asked, his voice soft and low as he whispered in your ear.

You shrugged, turning your head so that your voice was muffled into his chest.

He rubbed your knee gently, "Babe, you know I can't understand you when you do that. Come on, what are you thinking about?"

"Just tomorrow," you told him, picking your head up a little so he could hear you. "I'm going to miss you."

Jake's chest vibrated with the little hum that he let out in understanding. He brought his hand up from where it was, maneuvering you as he wrapped it around your shoulders to bring you closer to him. "I'm going to miss you, too."

You felt him press a light kiss to the top of your head. Tilting your head up, your eyes locked onto his and you tried to memorize the exact shade of green they were and the number of eyelashes that framed their perfect shape.

He was looking at you like he was trying to drink in every detail. His eyes roaming every inch of your face as he gazed down at you.

"I'm going to write to you everyday," you promised him.

He smiled, teeth glinting from the light of the television. "It might get tedious."

"Not if it's you that I'm writing to," you told him.

His eyes softened, "You'll keep me updated about the squirel that's digging into your flower bed?"

"I'll write you a play-by-play of every movement he makes and I'll write to you about everything that happens at work -"

"You'd better. I need to keep up with the tea at your job so that I know if that bitch, Martha pulls any shit again." Jake was smirking mischievously but you knew how to read him now and he couldn't hide the very real sadness that was taking over him.

"I wouldn't want to tell anyone else," you assure him.

Jake nods and looks away from you down the hall where his office is. You haven't been in there a lot, but from the times that you've stayed the night, you knew the layout of his house. "If anything goes wrong," he begins, "Everything that you'd need to know is in the office. I know you're planning on popping in here every so often to check on things, but I've left all of my documents in case something happens in the upper left drawer."

You're glad he's not looking at you when he speaks, his words causing your stomach to twist unpleasantly, but you nod anyway. It's important to him that you know this, even if neither of you enjoy the topic.

"You'll come back to me," your words come out more hesitant than you had intended.

Jake's eyes snap back to yours, earnest determination shining brightly in them. "I will always, always do everything I can to try to make it back to you."

It should've scared both of you, the amount of commitment you were showing to each other so early in the relationship but neither of you could deny how right it felt to be with the other. His words, you knew, would echo around your head while he was gone, soothing you on the long nights without him.

You reached up to cup his face with your hand, bringing him closer for a deep kiss. The taste of him was an elixir that you could get drunk off of. The feeling of his hands around you, pulling you closer to him until a slip of paper wouldn't fit between you was a drug that you were addicted to.

You broke apart, breathing heavily with your forehead pressed against his. Wrapping his arms securely around your waist, he stood and carried you back into his bedroom, laying you down on the mattress with heartbreaking gentleness. Jake crawled in behind you and you fit your legs between his, curling into his body. The sheets were cool now, but still tussled from your time spent in them earlier.

He was tracing shapes along the small of your back as you played with the blonde hair on his chest. "Can I have your Longhorns sweater while you're gone?"

Jake hummed, "Of course."

"And can you spray it with your cologne?" You were both whispering now, some part of you knowing that to speak any louder was to break the bubble you were both living in. You'd do anything to keep him here in this bed with you and keep time from moving forward, pulling him away from you.

"Mmhmm," his eyes were falling shut, despite his obvious attempts at keeping them open.

"Sleep," you whispered. "You're going to need it."

Jake forced his heavy eyelids open, "I wanted to spend more time with you."

You pulled the covers higher up his chest, "I'll still be here."

"Talk to me," he asked, voice groggy. "Want your voice... Sleep better."

You pressed a small kiss to his skin, watching as his chest rose and fell with each breath. You licked your lips and began talking about everything mundane you could think of. Small, unimportant topics that you'd miss talking to him about while he was gone.

It didn't take long for his breathing to even out and for his hands to stop tracing against your skin. You stayed awake, gazing at him and taking mental pictures for you to remember. Your heart was beating painfully in your chest, a small crack forming as it prepared for the anguish that always filled you when the thought of being separated from the man you loved came up.

You knew that Jake would do his best to talk to you as often as he could. He'd already promised to call and write letters as often as he was allowed, but it was your first deployment as a couple. There was a part of you that was afraid that he'd come back and decide that you weren't the person he wanted anymore. You had no idea if this deployment would change him as much as his squad said the last one had.

His soft snore shook you from your thoughts. You ran your fingers through his hair so softly as to not wake him. "I love you," you whispered the secret into his chest. The way you always did when you had your buried your head in there, speaking the words directly to his heart and hoping that each time you spoke them that he'd feel the weight of them there long after you'd said it.

You settled next to him, curling around him. You cleared your mind of all thoughts of the morning and let his breathing soothe you to sleep.

When Jake was sure that you were sleeping soundly next to him he allowed himself a small smile and whispered, "I love you too."

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #top gun x reader #top gun maverick #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #applebutter and cinnamon masterlist

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roosterforme · 1 year

Text

Red Flags, Green Flags | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Hangman complains about his date’s red flags, but Bradley thinks this girl sounds amazing.

Warnings: Fluff!

Length: 1900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more.

Hangman tossed some darts listlessly at the dartboard and sighed. "What's your problem, man?" Bradley asked. "You look miserable tonight." "Yeah, you usually get off on beating us at darts. What's wrong?" Phoenix asked. "I have a girl meeting me here for a second date in a little while," Hangman drawled, sipping his whiskey. "I'm beginning to think I shouldn't have asked her out again." Payback snorted. "What's wrong with her? She not hot enough for you?"

Bradley rolled his eyes. That was probably the case as each girl Jake dated somehow looked more like a model than the previous one. "Nah, she's real cute," Hangman said, scratching his chin. "She's just giving off some red flags for me. I think I was momentarily blinded by her face when I asked her out again, because she's definitely not my type." "What red flags does she have?" Phoenix asked, taking her turn at darts. Bradley settled into his seat to listen. This ought to be good. "Well, she's really close with her family. Likes spending time with them," Jake said with a frown. Bradley's brow scrunched up; he thought that sounded pretty nice, actually. "And she volunteers all the time. At the library and the animal shelter and the soup kitchen. She's always so busy, it took forever to even schedule the first date! So I don't see this lasting past tonight," Jake added, finishing his drink. "She sounds pretty good to me," Bradley said cautiously. Actually she sounded really great. "You could always volunteer with her one day, then you'd get to spend some time with her." Jake scoffed. "I'd rather just find a girl who wants to spend her time with me," he said, flashing his charming smile. "This one is finishing graduate school for social work and likes to take her grandma to bingo. Plus, she definitely seems like the kind of girl who would wanna hold hands all the time." He grimaced as he finished. Bradley just gaped at the other aviator, rendered speechless, because Jake had just described his dream girl. Cute, smart, helpful, loving, independent, and kind. And if she agreed to a second date with Jake, then she was definitely interested in him. "What the fuck is wrong with you, dude?" "Oh shit, there she is," Jake grumbled, setting down his glass and heading toward the bar. Bradley stood up and stared as Jake approached a beautiful woman with a stunning smile. "Is he for real?" Bradley asked Phoenix in a dreamy voice. "She's awesome." "He's an idiot, but we already knew that," Phoenix told him with a smirk. "Why don't you go talk to her, Rooster. She's adorable." Bradley shook his head. "I can't, Nat. She's on a date with him!" But the more Bradley watched you and Jake together, it seemed like you weren't really into him either. You were smiling, but it wasn't reaching your eyes, and you had your arms crossed as Jake chatted with you. "Hmmm, fuck it," Bradley muttered as he took a deep breath and headed for the bar. ---------------------------------------- Jake was nice and attractive, but he wasn't really doing anything for you. And now you were starting to regret agreeing to meet him here. You'd been contemplating calling him all day and canceling for tonight and any future dates, but you ultimately decided to give it one more shot. But now you weren't paying any attention to him at all, because your eyes just landed on the most handsome man you'd seen in a long time walking up to the bar near where you were standing. He was literally the definition of tall, dark and handsome, and wearing a fun Hawaiian shirt. And he was looking right at you. You felt yourself smile at him like an idiot when he grinned at you from behind Jake. He had a mustache that somehow made him look cute and playful. You wished he would say something to you. Oh shit, you hadn't heard anything Jake was saying. You tried to pry your attention away from the newcomer, but then he rested a hand on Jake's shoulder and said, "Hey, Hangman, you gonna introduce me to your new friend?" His voice! You were biting the inside of your cheek to keep calm, because this man's voice was sexy. Like pillow talk sexy, and making out in a movie theater sexy. "Uh, sure," Jake replied, looking mildly annoyed. "Y/N, this is Rooster. Rooster, this is Y/N." "That's a pretty name," Rooster told you with a crooked grin, and it took you a second to realize he was talking about you. "Thanks," you replied with a laugh. "Rooster must be your call sign? You're an aviator, too?" "Yeah, my name's Bradley." "Bradley, it's nice to meet you." You liked his name, and his silly call sign. You liked the way he was looking at you and his kind brown eyes. "Jake didn't get you a drink? That's not very nice, Jake," Bradley said to your date who just shrugged. "I'll get you one. What do you want, Y/N?" You had to bite your lip before you accidentally replied with 'you'. "Gin and tonic," you told him, and you watched as he was instantly flagging down a bartender. His huge bicep was flexing below his sleeve as he leaned against the bar and turned toward you. "So, Jake was telling us all about you," he said, and you were surprised once again to find Jake was still in your proximity, because Bradley had your full attention now. "Really?" you asked, eyeing Jake, surprised he would have been telling anyone about you. There wasn't much to tell after the first date. He didn't seem that interested in you, and you hadn't even kissed him goodnight. "Yeah, he said you're getting a master's degree, and that you like volunteering and hanging out with your grandma," Bradley said, handing your drink to you when it arrived. "Um, yeah, I do," you said with a blush as Jake smirked at you. But you turned your attention back to Bradley when he spoke again. "That's cool. I volunteer with Big Brothers and Big Sisters as a youth mentor. And I used to love knitting with my grandma when I was a kid. I'm still pretty good at it, actually." Your jaw was hanging open, and you were having a hard time speaking. Was he for real? You took a sip of your drink and tried to gather your thoughts. Was it okay to ditch Jake and hang out with Bradley instead? "I volunteer a few times a week, but I always make sure I have time to take my Nana to bingo," you said with a laugh when Bradley smiled at you. "You're really a youth mentor?" "Yeah, last week I took some kids on a hike to the state park beach, and Wednesday evening I'm going to teach them how to bake a cake," he told you before finishing his beer and setting down the bottle. "That's sexy," you said, surprising yourself and Bradley. But you didn't regret saying it. Not one bit. Because Bradley's cheeks flushed pink, and your eyes were drawn to his scars that you were itching to touch. A startled laugh escaped his lips. "You think so?" "Yeah," you said, nodding your head fervently. Bradley shifted closer to you, and you noticed that Jake was nowhere to be found. ---------------------------------------

Bradley liked you. A lot. You were absolutely gorgeous to look at, but you were also smart and funny and interesting. The more he asked you about yourself, the more interested he was. You told him about school and your family and how much you loved going to the beach. And now you were so close to him, you were tracing his watch band with your fingers while you talked. "I think it's sweet that you used to knit with your grandma. Mine is practically a professional bingo player, she wins almost every week. And she's really cocky about it too," you said, and Bradley laughed. "She is! She likes to gloat about it when she plays shuffleboard." "She sounds fun," he told you. "And just so you know, I'm pretty good at bingo, and grandmas love me." "I'll bet they do." You actually giggled. He was making you giggle. God, he didn't want this night to end. He was trying to think of a way to ask you out, without making it awkward for you or Jake. "So what kind of cake are you baking on Wednesday?" you asked him playfully. "Not sure yet, but I was thinking about chocolate. You wanna come over and help?" Bradley couldn't explain it, but the idea of you helping him with the baking project had him excited. "You could stay and hang out afterwards. Maybe we could watch a movie together and have some of the cake?" "Are you asking me on a date while I'm technically still on a date with Jake?" you asked him with a grin. "Oh, your date with Jake ended a good thirty minutes ago," he informed you with a very serious look. "Now you're on a first date with me. You having fun?" You started laughing and looked away as your cheeks flushed. "A lot of fun, actually. I like you. You had me at youth mentor and really sealed the deal when you offered to feed me chocolate cake." Bradley couldn't stop smiling. "Can I get your phone number?" "Yes," you replied, and Bradley noticed you and he were standing so close now, your bodies were practically touching. He watched you type your name and number into his phone as he asked, "You'll come over on Wednesday then? For our second date?" "Yes," you replied, handing his phone back to him with a smirk, but your lips were twitching like you wanted to laugh. "Since we're going out now, is it cool if I kiss you?" Bradley asked with a smirk of his own. Your lips looked so soft, and Bradley really wanted to touch you. You smiled up at him and said, "That was pretty smooth," before running your fingers along his scarred neck and up into his hair, pulling him closer. Bradley leaned down until his lips met yours, and it was the perfect kiss. You were perfect for him. He put his hands around your waist and pulled you a little closer, kissing you a little deeper. When you pulled back, you pressed your lips together. "Text me your address and I'll be there on Wednesday. For cake baking assistance and our second date." "I will. I can't wait to see you again," Bradley replied, and it was the truth. Bradley walked you to your car, and with one more sweet kiss you were gone. When Bradley went back inside to settle his tab, Jake approached him. "You stole my date," Jake drawled, shaking his head but smiling. Bradley just grinned at Hangman. "It's pretty funny when you think about how she completely ditched you for me. Maybe I'll let you give a speech about it at the wedding."

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SO FLUFFY! Thanks for reading!

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

Note

Strictly Scandalous…

You first meet Hangman when he accidentally spills his drink on you at the Hard Deck turning your pretty white dress see through. Conscious of eyes on your chest he offers up his shirt to you and begins trying to learn more about you. Reader, turned on by his protective nature and sexy physical appearance, takes him outside with the intent of showing him how much she appreciated his kind gesture and charming personality only to end up receiving the best sex of her life…and possibly a date.

Listen this concept gave me literal life. I did however make a slight change and instead of sex, we went with the reader give Hangman head because that’s what my brain went to. ✌️

Warnings: This is strictly scandalous, smut ahead.

“I really am so unbelievably sorry—“ Jakes leaning over the booth to get closer to you on his elbows, his T-shirt slung over your now very see-through dress. “I just didn’t for the life of me see you standing there.”

“It’s alright, really.” You mule as you take a sip of the Canadian Club Jake had brought you as a sorry for spilling not one, not two, but three draft beers all over your pretty little ensemble. “Besides, the view ain’t that bad from where I’m sitting, so I guess you can say we’re even Stevens.”

Jake had ripped his own shirt off without a second thought, covering your exposed chest to the prying eyes of bar patrons who watched the dirty blonde, usually stable aviator stumble into you haphazardly as he momentarily lost his footing on the way over to the pool table.

It left him exposed from the waist up, which he’d normally be okay with. But Penny had a strict no nips policy and Jake hated the fact Bradley Bradshaw's Hawaiian throw over had now become his saving grace. He’d never live it down, the shirt or the fact he’d dragged you down in the depths of embarrassment with him. Jake Seresin was on a roll tonight, clearly.

“If it’s Hawaiian shirts you’re into you should be talking to Rooster—“ Jake mumbles under his breath as he watches you from across the booth twirl the little plastic straw around the vessel holding your drink of choice.

“It's not the shirt.” You simply shake your head. “And I don't do mustaches.”

“What is it that you do then?” Jake feels himself gaining some confidence back, he’s sending you one of his signature smirks and he knows just by the way you finish your drink and lean into the booth a little more to close the gap as much as you can that lingers between the two of you.

“Dirty blondes who spill beer on unassuming contacts.”

It's that comment that led you to know, with the copious amounts of alcohol flooding your systems and inability to think all that rationally, not that you didn't want to be grown on your knees in the carpark of the Hard deck. Not that you didn't want Jake's hands wrapped in your hair, helping to guide you up and down his length.

It's just that an all important question had been missed in the meet and greet part of your x-raked rendezvous. Why was Jake at a naval bar in the first place? And he certainly hadn't asked you that question either. But, it was far too late to ask now, consequences be damned you thought.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck–” Like a mantra, Jakes looking up into the heavens above as he bucks his hisp against your face, his cock disapearing and re-appearing moments after having being shoved down your warm tight throat. “Yess–ah fuck!” You've got his shirt on the ground, stopping the rocks from digging into your knees too deep as you work to work him over.

It's damn near organsmic to hear Jake, the man who'd spilt three drinks on you earlier, moan the way he was. Needy, lustful, one hand twisted in your hair while the other cups your cheek. Guiding you as you take every inch he's willing to give you. You hadnt gone into this thinking youd end up sucking Jake off, but fuck it had been one of your better ideas of the night so far.

“Fuugghh–!” Jakes flushed a red hume, it had started to creep its way up his neck from below the hawaiian button up, flushing his cheeks a pretty pink as his breathing laboured and got a little heavier with every passing second he relished in. “Feels so fucking good.”

If Jake had known that all it would take to get such a pretty girl like you down on your knees before him, sucking him senseless in the car park of the Hard Deck, was to spill a few amber beverages across your chest he would have tapped the whole damn keg months ago.

“Mmmhmm–” You simply aren't shy, moaning around Jake's cock as you look up through watery eyelashes to see him looking down at you with an open slack jaw. He has his back pressed against the side of his black F-150 and his jeans pulled down just past his hips, down enough that you could reach in and free him from the confines of his boxer briefs when you had pushed him up against the truck initially to make out.

It had been a feverish, intense hook-up. So feverish and needy that when your hand grazed against Jake's clothed cock he was already hard and standing to attention, hoping that the situation unfolding would lead to something more.

“Ah fuck, darlin, if you don’t sucking me off like that I’m gonna cum down that pretty little throat of yours.” Jakes close, he can feel his orgasm pooling at the base of his shaft. He can feel the all to familiar sensation of his balls tightening, his heart rate spiking, the need to just fuck deep into your throat overwhelming him as he let out groans and frustrated sighs, because he keeps forgetting how to fuckign breathe.

Popping your lips, you pull back and take Jake's sloppy length in your hand, pumping him as you chuckle and smile up at him.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing?” Jakes taking that as the go ahead to rail your throat. Waiting till your lips are once again wrapped around his tip before he's taking over the pace, groaning as your nose hits his manscaped pubic hair. Holding you down as he twitches and leans over you.

“OOhhhhhh fucking christ–” Tapping at his thigh, Jakes pulls your head back just to watch the tears fall freely down your cheeks as you gasp for air, only to do the same thing over and over again because it feels far too good to stop now when hes so close to cumming down your windpipe. “Baby, ahh Fuck I’m there, I’m there ohhhhh ffuugghhh–”

It's an overwhelming sensation, to have Jake buried at the hilt down your throat as he's withering away above you. His vision blurred for a minute as he felt himself releasing into your warm, tight throat. The mixture of saliva and opake cum dripping down your tongue before you swallow. Neat and tidy. “Ahhhh oh my god–”

Despite his inhibitions, Jake Seresin is a southern gentleman at heart. So when he comes down from the high you gave him, he's unlocking his truck, pulling you into it and down onto his lap. Kissing you just to taste himself on your tongue as he cups your cheeks, hot to the touch.

There's no secret just by looks alone that you are by far much younger than Jake. He knows it's not a question you ask a lady either, so he goes about it rather strategically while he's sucking against the pulse point of your neck as you grind yourself down into his lap.

“What do you do, pretty girl?” Jake's mumbling. “You know, when you aren't riding thighs in the backs of Ford trucks in car parks of bars?” And it's your answer that has Jake's voice hitching in the back of his throat. He's just gotten a new gig, as had most of the daggers–they were instructors, TopGun instructors. The newest class were starting Monday…..

“Im a naval aviator–” You moaned, pulling back just so you could rip your dress up over your head, exposing yourself to the drunk in trouble man under you. “Start at Miramar on Monday, Lieutenant Y/n Mitchell at your service.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Strictly Scandalous Jake ‘Hangman Seresin

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Strictly Scandalous Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

#ohtobeleah 3k celebration #strictly scandalous jake ‘hangman’ seresin #jake seresin x f!reader #jake hangman imagine #jake seresin fic #jake seresin smut #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #jake hangman x reader

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honkytonk-hangman · 1 year

Text

How It's Done (1/2)

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Aviator!Reader

Warnings: erm maybe just some references to sex? jake being jake? language? minions. big warning for minions xD

Notes: This is part one of a two-parter, the next will be mostly smut lmao. Thank you for reading! I would love any feedback or comments and dont forget to reblog if you feel so inclined!!!

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