#top gun: maverick fanfic

[attapullman]

The Perfect Pink | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: While bartending for Rolling Acres Retirement's Valentine's Party, you encounter a pink-cheeked man and his cherry-loving cousins.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: all fluff with alcohol mentions

A Note From Mo: Here is my Pink Lady fic for @thedroneranger's Pick Your Poison event to go with this gorg moodboard! As a part-time mixologist and full-time Bob Floyd lover, this was such a fun concept to play around with and has inspired me to come up with more pink drinks. I've never been a Valentine's girly, but I fully believe this pink-cheeked WSO could convince me otherwise. To everyone who reads this, I love you bunches and bunches, all 365 days in the year!

It’s so pink. Horrendously. Abysmally. Pepto-bismally. PINK.

When you agreed to tend the bar in a pinch, a few bundles of carnations and candy pink paper hearts were your guess for the evening’s decorations. But when you showed up to Rolling Acres Retirement's Valentine’s Party holding a crate of soda water and a handful of shakers, your senses flatlined with the amount of pink covering every surface.

Petal pink tablecloths straightened over round tables; a small bouquet of magenta carnations attached to each folding chair and incensing the recreation hall of the retirement home. Heart-covered paper plates and folded napkins set up at each place setting, glittering confetti sprinkled around the tableware. The ceiling isn’t even a reprieve, a rainbow of fuchsia and rose and flamingo and blush balloons filling up every available inch of space.

Suzette on the front desk had complimented your dusky pink sweater - an appropriate choice for the holiday - but set against this backdrop you feel like another decoration. An oversized bauble that also makes cocktails and pours cheap wine.

And now, standing behind this makeshift card-table-turned-bar covered in bubblegum crepe paper, your brain might explode in a cloud of hot pink smoke. Counting out pours and trying not to slice yourself making garnishes is a struggle keeping up with all these orders. While the average age of the party goer may be eighty, they drink more than the 21st birthday bash you bartended last weekend. You’ve been here all of an hour and Mrs. Moscovitz has already downed three fuschia cosmopolitans.

While disappointed you don’t have more romantic Valentine’s Day plans - though, when have you ever had a date on this too pink day? - it’s fun to see who’s turned up to celebrate. White-haired couples are swaying on the makeshift dance floor, every shade of pink and red in their attire. Bridge groups and knitting circles are excitedly chatting at their respective tables, gossiping over who is in attendance and with whom. Even the staff have wide grins splitting their faces, enjoying the festivities that break up the bleak winter. It’s the least you can do to spend the holiday providing beverages for this crowd.

The best part is the families. While romantic love is thick in the air, so is platonic love. Family members of all ages have come out to spend the holiday with the residents. Mr. Gordon’s daughter and her family have driven hours to catch up over pot roast and sparkling cider while his grandson plays trucks over a pile of chocolates he snuck from Suzette.

Orders have slowed down and your eyes keep glancing over to Ms. Floyd’s table. The entire clan has showed up for dinner, dancing, and to take home a batch of her homemade snickerdoodles. Multiple relatives are taking up two entire heart-sprinkled tables. Your focus is mainly on the second table for too far from you, where the grandkids have been relegated to play cards and swap candy hearts to pass the time.

“Why don’t you go ask the pink lady for more cherries.” God, he’s cute. The only guy in this place near your age and his attention is stolen by a pair of toddler girls obsessed with the cherries in their Shirley temples. 

You divert your eyes quickly when you realize he’s talking about you and your pink sweater. The girls giggle shyly, the high pitched squeals of glee as they convince him to go up instead. Fiddling with shakers, wiping down the counter, you try to stay busy as you physically feel him approach the converted bar and your trembling hands.

“Hi!” His smile is thin and nervous and his cheeks are pink, blushing from his little cousins and their antics. Also because you’re much prettier up close and he’s wearing a shirt he’d never normally be caught in if his grandma hadn’t picked it out. 

He’s much cuter at this distance as well. Sandy hair combed neatly, one small strand slipping out behind his ear. Friendly cerulean eyes framed by golden wire spectacles, similar to the ones several of the ex-military men at Rolling Acres are sporting. His thin lips falter slightly as he takes in how well the pink of your sweater compliments your skin. God, he wishes he wasn’t wearing this shirt.

You spring into service mode and grab a fresh cocktail shaker. “What can I do you for?”

“I’m technically up here for some cherries.” You dutifully nod, hoping to hide the fact you’ve been watching him converse with the toddler girls in their matching baby pink dresses most of the night. You make a small dish of cherries up and push it toward him, shaking your head when he attempts to pay. “The thirty-eight cents of cherries is a small expense for a night those two will talk about for weeks. They’re on the house.”

He grabs the dish with a smile, but realizes he now has no excuse to stay by the bar. And while he loves his cousins, he’s on leave for a few more weeks and you’re really pretty. A few extra minutes wouldn’t hurt. He extends his hand with a timid smile. “I’m Bob.”

You reach out and shake his hand back as you introduce yourself, hoping the condensation coating your fingers isn’t too noticeable. He immediately commits your name to memory, happy to replace “The Pink Lady” with a name as fitting to you as yours.

He moves out of the way as a woman in a magenta scarf orders a round for her bingo group. Bob watches as you whir into action, pouring liquors and counting off ounces. The delicate way you garnish each drink so the owner feels special. Your gracious smile when a tip is stuffed into the heart-shaped velvet box provided to you for tips.

When the line at the bar dies down, he sidles back up to your makeshift station. Bob notices the way you eye the decorations warily, still adjusting to the deafening pink of it all. He drums lightly on the blushing pink tablecloth, catching your wide-eyed attention. “Everything all right?”

“Uh, this place is too…pink?” you laugh, gesturing to the overabundance of rosy hues surrounding you. For possibly the first time all night, Bob realizes that while you were the only pink thing that had his attention, it is suffocating in the recreation hall. 

“Yes, yes it is,” he chuckles right back, eyes soaking in the offending decorations. There’s a comfortable air between the two of you, and he decides to push his luck for more time with The Pink Lady.

Bob clears his throat, pulse thrumming through his body. Tonight is his one and only chance to land a date with the pretty bartender.

“So, to go with the theme, what is the pinkest drink you can make me?” He wiggles his eyebrows, his best attempt at flirting. A hint of a giggle escapes as you purse your lips, contemplating his challenge. 

“I can make you a pink lady.” 

He narrows his eyes. “Is that a real drink, or have you named it after yourself?”

“It’s real, I promise.” You’re all smiles at his attention as you combine the gin, applejack, and grenadine with a splash of lemon juice. He really could watch you work for hours.

As you reach for the last ingredient, his eyes bug out. “Is that an egg?” He’s a Navy man, his normal bar only has cocktails with two ingredients. Since when did eggs go in cocktails?

“When you dry shake an egg white it creates this nice foam, adds to the drink.” While he wants to come across as open-minded and cultured, he’s hesitant. “If you don’t like it, I’ll make you something else.”

He’s bewitched as you pour the perfectly pink drink into a plastic coup, the creamy white foam rising to top it off. A cherry balances the rim, one that won’t be stolen by his mischievous cousins. As he looks between the freshly poured drink and you, he swears your cheeks are the same happy pink.

You push the drink toward him, excited to share something new with a customer. Always a gamble as a bartender, but worth it when you expand someone’s palate. He gives you a tentative smile, unsure if he’s going to like it, but he really wants to impress you. In return, you give him an encouraging nod, completely unsure of how this will go. He takes a sip, the frothy mixture coating his tongue.

As far as he’s concerned, the drink is named after you. Not too sweet, not too tart, a divinely balanced combination of flavors in a perfect pink concoction. Bob is convinced you would taste just as good, especially with a cherry. The thought makes his brain blank.

“Do you like it?” Your hopeful eyes are endearing. He wants to brush the strand of hair from your cheek and assure you that he likes it, that he’d like anything you made him because you made it. But you’re practically strangers so he stumbles over his words as he promises it’s delicious. 

The bowl of cherries for his cousins still in his hand, Bob stands to the side of the bar and sips his tartly sweet drink, casually keeping up conversation with you as you serve other patrons. You’re glad for the company, enjoying the way he asks about your technique and mutters out the few things he knows about wine from conversations with his aunt. Despite the fact you’re working, it’s the best Valentine’s Day you’ve had in years with this bespectacled man watching you tend bar.

He’s just so cute, blushing his own special pink hue when your eyes connect while you shake up a few martinis.

“Uncle Bob!” There is no mistaking who is calling him over. Two identical heads pouting as they motion him over. His time with you is up. He gives you a sweet smile, trying to memorize every inch of your face, before motioning his hand filled with cherries in their direction. You bittersweetly grin right back, smile lingering as you start on Mr. Nickerson’s two merlots as you watch his broad shoulders walk away.

Oh, how you wish he would come back.

Because it’s a retirement home and not a frat house, by ten the party is wrapping up. You’ve exchanged shy glances with Bob a handful of times, but his family has taken up most of his attention with Navy questions and inquiring when he’s going to visit next. He barely registers the event is over before he’s rummaging through his mom’s handbag with his last attempt at salvaging the night.

You’re cleaning up your supplies when the Floyd clan walks past, all waving good night to you and the staff, thanking you all for a great Valentine’s night. The girls thank you for their cherries, a stem hanging from one’s lip. 

Staggering at the end of the crowd is Bob, his cheeks flushed and palms tingling. He stands in front of your table, rocking on his heels, working up his courage. You give him a warm smile, thanking him for his company, and he completely melts. As he holds up his occupied hand, he hopes this works.

“Forgot to slip this in earlier.” His smile is tense as he jams a few dollars through the absurdly small hole in your improvised tip box. You thank him before both blurting out awkward goodbyes. As he catches up with his family, a pang rings through your chest. Disappointed he’s gone, never to be seen again. 

Bob Floyd, a Valentine’s mirage you will remember fondly.

Once all your things are packed, you square things up with Suzette with your pay for the event and a promise to stop by to visit the residents later in the month. You schlep everything to the car, a mixture of emotions painting your face in the rearview mirror as you make your way back home. The weight of defeat keeping you from bringing anything inside except for that damn tip box you’re hoping will cover groceries for the week.

You pry open the velvet lid and are met with the best surprise.

There, at the bottom of your substitute tip jar, underneath all the singles the elderly stiffed you with, was a scrap of cheap rosy pink napkin. You unfurl it to see neat chicken scratch handwriting, the pen poking through the fabric in spots as he worked to write out his message with a phone number beneath.

I’m here until the 27th. Drinks on me? - Bob

Now that you think about it, maybe you do like pink.

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[amysteryspot]

I Will Always Love You | B.B.

Summary: Bradley has no one to release him at his tapping out ceremony.

Warnings: female reader; use of (Y/N); reader has a big family; mentions of Bradley having no family left after Carole's death, mentions of the fight between Bradley and Maverick; breakup; kinda off a happy ending;

Word Count: 1023

A/N: This was written for the @roosterforme's fic challenge #love is in the air tgm. It was inspired by the song "I Will Always Love You" by Whitney Houston. I had so much fun writing it and I hope you all enjoy it.

They were meant to be. That’s what everyone said to them after they got together. It seemed like their friends had been waiting for the news already. (Y/N) and Bradley were so in sync with each other that it was obvious to everyone but them how perfect they worked together.

Her family welcomed him with open arms, which was a blessing. Bradley had little to no family he still had contact with after his mother’s passing and his fall off with his godfather. (Y/N) was the second eldest of five siblings, not to mention all of the cousins. They all loved him. She always told Bradley that he was easy to love.

In times like these, Bradley felt the loss of his mother the most. He was sure that Carole would have loved (Y/N) just as much as she had loved him.

They were meant to be… until they weren’t.

Coming from a big family, all (Y/N) wanted was a good job that could get her out of her parents home. Bradley understood that, after all, he was only in college as a way to get in the Navy, like he always dreamt. Everything was doing fine until their graduation.

“You’ve been strange since yesterday.” Bradley said, loosening his arms from around (Y/N) that was sitting beside him.

She sighed, turning around to look him in the eyes.

“I’ve received a proposal.”

Bradley blinked a couple of times, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“To go to London.”

The breath got caught in his throat as he looked at the woman he loved and wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

“London?” He asks.

“Yes.” She confirms. “The office needs someone there and since I just graduated they thought it would be a great opportunity to start this new phase.”

The tension in the room was thick. Neither of them expected to have this conversation so soon. Bradley thought that they would at least have a couple of months to spare.

“You should go.” He finally said after what felt like hours of silence.

“Brad…”

He cuts her off before she can get another word in.

“It’s a great opportunity for you to start your career and…”

Her soft lips are on his and for a moment everything feels right. The kiss lasts only a couple of seconds, but it is enough to dissolve some of the tension, leaving place for sadness to set in.

“We have to talk.” She said.

“There’s nothing to talk about. You have to take this opportunity, you don’t know if you’ll get another.”

“I know.”

Simple as that. No buts, no questions. They both just knew.

“When do you leave?” He asks, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“I don’t know.” She answers, voice breaking.

That’s when the first tears start to fall. Bradley pulls her to him, snuggling themselves together, trying to get as close as they could to forget the storm above their heads.

“We will find a way.” He mumbles against her hair. “Everything will be okay.”

Maybe it wasn’t meant to be, after all.

Bradley had a month to prepare for the academy, (Y/N) was given the same time to prepare for her trip, so they both decided that they would make the most of the little time they had together. It was one of the hardest things he had to do in his life.

After too much talk, the both of them decided that ending their relationship to focus on their careers would be the best decision for both of them. They would be too busy with their jobs to be able to maintain a long distance relationship, so it seemed like the logical decision to make.

They agreed not to have an airport goodbye. (Y/N)’s family took her from Bradley’s place, but he didn’t go. Their goodbye was just their own.

And just like that, Bradley was alone again. He and (Y/N) parted as friends, her family still talked to him almost daily, but how do you stay friends with someone you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with?

With time he stopped answering her, it didn’t take long for her to stop trying to reach out and that’s how he ended up here, standing alone at his tapping out ceremony, with nobody to relieve him.

Until someone tapped him on the shoulder.

Bradley turned around to meet (Y/N) standing there as beautiful as the last time she woke up by his side. He was quick to engulf her in a hug and, before thinking, kissing her.

She tasted like cinnamon and coffee. It was so familiar and yet so strange. When they separated, he was quick to apologize.

“I’m sorry.” He started, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I…”

The words got lost between their lips once she kissed him again.

“Congratulations, soldier.” She mumbled against his lips. “Or should I say sailor?”

Bradley smiles, relinquishing the feeling of her hands caressing his face.

“Soon to be pilot.” He answers, opening his eyes to look at her.

“Well, soon-to-be-pilot, there’s more people here that want to see you.”

She turns around in his arms, making way for him to see her family cheering at him.

“Why is everybody here?” He laughed.

“Are you kidding me?” She asked, smiling. “There was no talking them out of coming to see their favorite member of the family become a soon-to-be-pilot.”

He frowned, unsure of how to react.

“You’re easy to love, Bradley Bradshaw. I’ll always love you and so will they.”

She kissed him again, taking him out of his head a little, before nudging him to go celebrate with her family—their family.

“Common, before they say that I want you all to myself.” She said, taking his hand and adding, “Which is true.”

Bradley smiled, “Later.” He promised. “You can have me all to yourself later.”

And that promise was enough to put both their hearts at ease. Even if they had only tonight, Bradley knew that a part of them would always belong to each other.

[sushiwriterhere]

in a heartbeat

summary: "Maybe he just didn’t need the fanfare, maybe he needed to ditch the plans and just hand the rock to you over Chinese takeout and let that be it."  rating: explicit (no minors!) pairing: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x f!reader word count: 3.9k warnings: very fluffy, PiV (unprotected), no use of y/n.  notes: this is my first fic in a while and im fighting writers block something awful. this is not proofread :( pls lmk what you think <3! my other works are here part of the coming home to you universe

four days before.

“I’m gonna go out for drinks with the girls Saturday.”

“Uhhh, you can’t.”

Did he need to loop your coworkers into the proposal plan too? Phoenix having dragged it out of him so they could all help was bad enough. Bradley could feel his headache building behind his eyes. He tried to avert eye contact to make the conversation feel natural, instead focusing his gaze on the onion he was trying to caramelize. 

“I can’t?”

Bradley’s never been controlling, never tried to tell you who you can and can’t hang out with, and certainly never with that particular tone in his voice. He heard the mail you were inspecting drop onto the granite countertop as you turned your full attention on him.

“Why?”

Fuck.

He could hear the way your eyes were narrowed from the uncharacteristically steady tone of your voice, the way one eyebrow was raised expectantly. 

In the back of his mind, Bradley also saw the picnic blanket, candles, and bottle of your favorite wine stashed at Mav’s. There were the flowers he had to pick up and arrange on Friday while you were working, the homemade meal Javy promised him that he needed to grab on Saturday around midday. 

“I made dinner reservations at this new place down by the beach, and the only time they had was Saturday evening.”

“And you forgot to tell me until now?”

Bradley didn’t forget. Not about these types of things. Ever since your first date, Bradley had been nothing but proactive. He planned dates, cooked meals, doted on you. Forgetting just wasn’t like him. 

“Made the reservation this morning and you seemed busy.” He finally met your eyes and he watched as your gaze softened and you turned back to the stack of mail.

“Bradley Bradshaw you are a sap.”

And the moment passed. 

You and Bradley had talked about marriage, you have. You’d talked about it enough for him to know what kind of ring you wanted, that you wanted a small, intimate ceremony, and that you’d lost more than enough sleep over whether to invite your parents. You’d talked enough to know Bradley would probably have the Dagger Squad as best men (people?) and that he’d let Phoenix be part of your bridal party if you wanted, that he wanted Mav right there next to him, and that there would be an empty chair for Goose and Carole. That was one thing. 

Getting down on one knee and actually going over that line? That was another. 

The rational part of his brain had always insisted that you would say yes, that you also knew from very early on, if not the beginning. The unhelpful part of his brain kept telling him the ring was the wrong size or that a seagull would swoop down and steal the shiny thing right from his fingertips before you could even say no.

three days before.

Bradley’s checked the ring at least six times since he, Javy, and the other guys came into the shop. The sound of the velvet clicking back against itself then sliding open again was starting to grate on his nerves, but he wanted to give Bradley the benefit of the doubt. He remembered what it was like, that lump in your throat, the way his brain tended to keep him up about every disagreement, every time he should’ve apologized instead of stewing on his anger. 

Javy, instead, choose peace. He watched calmly as Bradley opened the box again, and brought a finger up to trace the gems before deciding against it.

Doesn’t want to smudge it.

There was clearly something on his mind, because the ring had been paid for months ago and the re-sizing and adjustments were included in the price. But there Bradley was, stuck to the shop floor, looking like he was trying to decide between getting sick right there and maybe saving it for the trees outside the shop’s doors.

“What’cha thinkin’ about there, Rooster?” Jake sidled up to Bradley’s side, voice a low murmur, as if trying not to startle the man. 

Regardless, Bradley jumped slightly, jostling the open box and the sound of the box snapping shut echoed harshly around the showroom. Bradley looked like he might’ve decided on getting sick inside. 

“Should I get a second one? What if she doesn’t like this one?” 

Across the room, a sales associate perked up just slightly, clearly looking to score on another guy so nervous he looked like a ghost. Vultures.

“Bradley, my man, we’ve been over this a thousand times. Phoenix got her Pinterest, it’s all a certain style, and it’s definitely the perfect ring.” 

Jake and Bradley had begun to get along, rather begrudgingly at first, then very amicably, after the mission and Jake saved Bradley’s life. Seeing him comfort Bradley was something else though, Javy acknowledged. It was kind of nice to have that tension dissipate from within their team.

“But what if I need another perfect one?” 

“Are you gonna propose to her twice?” Bob had popped up on Bradley’s other side, silent as ever. “Usually there’s a second one for the wedding, but I’m here for a bit of a new tradition.”

At that, Bradley deflated a bit. The box in his hands clicked open, then shut again.

“No, no new tradition.” He murmured, before slipping the box into his pocket.

two days before.

Bradley knew Mav loved him, but he wasn’t sure how much he would after this whole ordeal. They must’ve run over the schedule at least a thousand times, forward and backward, even while flying over their comms. At this point, Bradley was sure he had the entire Dagger Squad reciting the plan in their sleep. He hoped he at least wasn’t, he didn’t need you to be clued into anything. 

“Nothing has moved since the last time you were here. Go home, Bradley.” Mav’s voice carried through the house as Bradley unceremoniously burst through the door. 

He’d started leaving work fifteen minutes early last week, just to double check that everything was in its place, that nothing had broken or spontaneously combusted. It was just enough time for him to stop at Mav’s place on the way home, do his round, and make it home around the same time as usual so as not to rouse suspicion. 

“I’m just–”

“Just checking yeah, get outta my house Bradley and go be with your fiance.” Mav had rounded the corner into his back room, all bathed in sunlight and a picture-perfect reminder of why people loved living in California. 

He was the picture of relaxed domesticity, dish towel over his shoulder, spatula in one hand that he was clearly thinking about hitting Bradley with as he paced the room and ticked things off on his fingers as he murmured to himself. 

“You’re gonna wear a hole in my carpet, and I happen to really like that rug.” Bradley stopped walking but the way his fingers twitched at his sides clued Mav into the way he was clearly still running through the run of show in his mind. 

“She’s not my fiance yet.”

“And she never will be if I murder you for breaking into my house and giving my wife a heart attack.”

“Penny’s not even home at this hour.” 

Mav had never seen Bradley like this. He’d missed graduations and recitals and all the shit you don’t get to see as an estranged god-father, but he’d done enough wondering about what he was like in those moments to have come up with this scenario. Bradley truly was the perfect mix of Goose and Carole–all Goose’s easy romantic energy, ever creative, ever attentive, and just as much of Carole’s eye for detail and desire for things to go right. 

“Bradley.”

Mav watched as the fight eased out of Bradley’s shoulders and his hands relaxed at his sides, “Right. Sorry.”

“Look son, you don’t have to be sorry for wanting this to go right. And you’ve only got a little of sorry to be about starting to drive me insane.” At that, Bradley cracked half a smile and Mav considered that a small success. “You like this at home?”

A sharp laugh echoed around the wood-paneled room, “Oh absolutely not. She’d know in a heartbeat.”

“Well, then you have your answer.” The gears were turning at a million miles an hour as Bradley tried to decipher what he meant. “She knows you in a heartbeat, which means she knows how she feels about you. And we both know what that means for Saturday.”

Bradley nodded, the picture of relaxation and ease all at once. “I’ll see you Saturday.”

one day before.

Bradley was starting to think the gash on his finger was some sort of awful omen, something terrible that had been awaiting to reveal itself until the last moment. He’d arranged flowers for you probably a million times at this point, had even done it blindfolded (only cheating a bit so he didn’t lose a finger) just to amuse you. Now, as he stared at the blood bubbing up from his middle left finger where he’d just stabbed himself with the scissors, the entire thing felt like some sort of cosmic joke.

He’d never doubted that he wanted to marry you, not even when you’d argued or insisted on shoving your ice cold fingers and toes up against him in the dead of night. Not once had he wavered since that initial thought in his brain, and he was even more sure when he went to open that fucking bank account that he’d been diligently adding a sizeable portion of his paycheck to. (What? He wanted to be sure he could afford exactly what you wanted, DeBeers advertising campaign be damned.)

Maybe he just didn’t need the fanfare, maybe he needed to ditch the plans and just hand the rock to you over Chinese takeout and let that be it. 

The only thing keeping him going despite all his nerves, aside from his deep love for you, was the way you’d once leaned against him when the two of you were spending a week away in the mountains. Overlooking something that felt like it was right from a postcard, you’d told him exactly how all the little romantic things he did made you feel. 

“Every time you buy me flowers, I get this little feeling in my chest, like something curling around my heart.” Bradley remembered keeping himself from making a joke, something about heart attacks, trying not to break the moment as the fog hung low over the trees. 

“From the moment you picked me up for our first date and insisted on opening the car door, bringing me flowers, they all make me get that little squirmy feeling that no one’s ever given me before.” You had pressed yourself to his side but not met his eyes, as if your confession was too powerful, too heavy to make when looking at him, “And some of it’s because I’m a sap at heart and you somehow know what I want before I do, but some of it’s just because it’s you Bradley. Always has been, always will be.”

The words said next would keep him going in his darkest moments, kept him together on long deployments, kept him pushing through every moment of doubt in the planning process.

“So if you ever decide to propose to me, even if it’s just you asking me over coffee, just know I’ll get that feeling, just because it’s you.” 

At that, you’d turned to face him, shifting so you could hook your chin over his shoulder where he turned his face to yours. He could see every lash, every spot on your face that he loved to press his lips to when you were too sleepy to protest. You’d graced him with a tiny smile, somehow just a bit melancholy, but all too loving. 

Bradley shook his head, clearing the memory as he scrambled to keep his blood from spattering on the countertop. He was going to have to grit his teeth through the pain of using a liquid bandaid so the pictures weren’t ruined by a regular bandaid. 

You’d compromised on drinks being Friday, so he had the evening to himself. All the time in the world for flowers, for a barbecue at Javy’s (home cooked meal to be picked up that night instead of Saturday morning), and for waiting up for you to text that you were ready to go home. 

the day of.

Bradley thought he’d be blinded by panic, or doubt, now that he was counting down hours and minutes in place of days or weeks. Instead, all he felt was a sense of serenity, almost like he was floating through the motions. 

The day started like every Saturday he’d had since you moved in and he’d been granted a relatively permanent station at Top Gun with Mav and the rest–you pressed up against him, your hair tickling some part of his bare skin, and the type of bone deep satisfaction with life that came with going to bed with a full belly and the love of his life at his side. He stared up at the ceiling fan as it made its lazy rotations and thought about how today was marking the difference between two parts of his life. 

After today, there would always be a time before the proposal, and after. 

The morning was lazy as you insisted you didn’t have a hangover but let Bradley cook you a plate full of turkey bacon, gently scrambled eggs, and a few hashbrowns. He knew you would be fine by afternoon, and after that excited to hang out at the beach before dinner. 

He was sort of counting on it. 

Apparently he’d underestimated your ability to bounce back because the way you draped yourself across his bare back was a little less than innocent as your hands smoothed over his shoulders and down his stomach. He slowed the way he was chewing the last of his hashbrown as you pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot under his ear. 

“Good morning, Bradley,” You crooned lowly.

“Mornin’.” 

His stomach jumped as you ran a nail over one of his nipples, and kissed at his shoulder. Tilting his head to the side to give you more room to work with, he took a slow drink of his water. 

Maybe he wanted you to work for it just a little, what with how badly he’d been stressing these last few weeks. 

And work for it you did. The light drag of your nails just barely there on his stomach and arms had him getting hard faster than he thought was humanly possible. But there was just something about the warmth of your chest at his back, the thinness of some shirt you’d stolen from him doing little to hide the swell of your breasts, that did it for him. Hell, it was really just that it was you that got him going. 

“I missed you last night.” You whined, just a bit, as he finally turned around on the barstool and gathered you into his lap. 

You could definitely feel the way he was hard against the soft give of your thighs, but somehow in that moment, all he wanted was you near. Sensing that somehow the moment had maybe passed, you curled in his lap and stretched your arms around his shoulders, apparently just content to be touching him.

“I missed you too.”

The way your lips met his was almost as natural as breathing, and then the moment wasn’t so innocent anymore. Your lips slotted against his as you kneaded at his arm muscles and part of Bradley was incredibly satisfied that you were enjoying just how much effort he put in at the gym. Sure, he had to be fit for his physical, but how hard he went on his biceps and shoulders was purely for your benefit. 

When the two of you finally stumbled back into the bedroom, Bradley thought he might pass out from how hard he was. Everything about you was amplified somehow. Your skin was softer and the gentle scent of whatever perfume you’d worn last night filled his nose. The give of your hips and thighs was easier and all he wanted was to sink his teeth into you and never let go. You might even let him.

Sprawled underneath him you looked like a goddess, bathed in the rising morning sun, nipples gently peaked as your chest rose and fell. 

“I love you.” 

It was so tender in comparison to the way you sat up and worked a hand inside Bradley’s boxers to grab firmly at his cock. He groaned as you shoved at the little clothing the two of you were wearing and in a moment, your skin was a beautiful contrast to the crisp white of the sheets. 

Bradley made to go down on you but you kept his face in your hands, “Been ready to go since I watched you scramble those eggs.”

He couldn’t hold back the way he barked out a laugh, that one was new. “The way the white and yolk were combined really do it for you?”

You smacked at his chest indignantly as he propped one of your thighs over the crook of his elbow, “Your back and arms look nice when you whisk, you asshole.”

You weren’t so huffy as he slid into you, gentle as ever. Bradley knew he wasn’t the biggest ever, but he also knew he wasn’t anything to scoff at either. He kissed away any discomfort he could see on your features til you rocked your hips up against his insistently.

“Give it to me like you mean it, babe,” Grinning all cheerfully, Bradley cursed under his breath as he felt you bear down on him.

After that, there was little to be said beyond whispers of I love you and the occasional swear word. Sometimes sex between the two of you was raunchy and heated, and other times it rounded out his Saturday mornings in a way that left him sated like nothing else. Sometimes he thought it might be better than flying. 

You came first, digging your nails into his shoulders and breathing his name in repeat. The feeling of you squeezing around him did little to keep him from coming and besides, the way you scraped your nails down his chest and begged him to let go definitely did him in. 

Clean up was quiet kisses and gentle shoves in the direction of the en-suite bathroom, Bradley making sure the water wasn’t too cold for you as you peed. (It was the little things.)

-

Fuck what Bradley had thought earlier about being serene, he thought he was going to crawl out of his skin. Holding your hand as the two of you made your way down the beachfront towards the space behind the Hard Deck, you were chattering on about some coworker’s baby shower and Bradley was focusing way too hard on not absolutely eating shit with the way the sand was shifting under his feet. 

In the distance, he could see the candles and the picnic blanket like a homing beacon. He couldn’t see Mav or Javy or anyone else, but he knew they were all hiding somewhere, ready to burst from the shadows in excitement. Harvard was also brandishing a camera even though Bradley couldn’t see any hint that he was around–turns out he was a more-than-amatuer photographer and had volunteered to capture the moment. 

“Bradley, what’s all this?” Your voice reached a winded sort of pitch as the two of you finally reached the set up.

It was perfect, and part of Bradley finally exhaled. The picnic blanket from your fourth date, the little tea candles doting the beach, and the bouquet of flowers resting at the corner of the blanket, right within Bradley’s reach.

Gently dropping your hand, Bradley picked up the flowers and pressed them into your hands. By now, you’d clearly caught on that something was happening because your eyes were wide and slightly teary, and there was a ghost of a wobble in your lower lip. 

Tan suit be damned, Bradley dropped to one knee and pulled out the velvet box that had been burning a hole in his pocket since before the two of you had gone out to dinner. (The dinner reservation had actually been real, to his credit.)

“Oh my god,” you whispered, bringing a hand to your mouth in a way that betrayed the way your hands were shaking. 

Bradley inhaled deeply, before popping open the lid of the box and letting his eyes flick down to where the ring was sitting, nestled right where it was supposed to be.

As if unable to stop yourself, you opened your mouth and blurted, “If you’re about to ask me what I think you are, the answer is yes. A thousand times yes.” 

Blinking up at you, Bradley didn’t move a muscle as you kept going, “Oh my god wait you probably have a whole speech, I’m so sorry, I’ll shut up now.”

Distantly, Bradley heard a shutter clicking but neither of you broke eye contact as his face broke into a huge smile. He kept going according to his plan, the unspoken understanding passing between the two of you that you’d never live that down.

He said your first name like a prayer, before launching into the speech he’d rehearsed for months now, “I have loved you since I met you. I love every part of you–your laugh, the way you’re passionate about your work, the way you love everyone around you with such intensity. I love you when we argue, I love you when we’re together and apart. You consume my every waking thought, and grace me with your presence when I dream. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I want to wake up next to you for the rest of my life. I want to bicker about how we go through junk mail, the right way to parallel park, and what show we’re going to watch on Thursdays for however long you’ll let me. I want you by my side for the good, the bad, in sickness, and in health.” He said your name again, before asking the question he already knew the answer to, “Will you marry me?”

“Yes, oh my god yes.” 

Miraculously, Bradley slipped the ring on your finger without incident, then gathered you up into his arms and pressed your lips together. His cheeks were wet with your tears. 

“I love you so much, Bradley Bradshaw, you are my everything,” You choked out when he set you down unable to stop yourself from sticking your hand out in front of you and crying harder when you saw the ring of your dreams adorning your hand. 

“I can’t believe you said yes before I asked,” He breathed before pulling you into him to kiss you fiercely one more time.

-

“She said yes before I even opened my mouth,” Bradley chuckled as you giggled by his side, hands never leaving the new ring on your finger.

“That’s not nearly as bad as you were for the last three months,” Javy crowed, and the crowd was in uproar as Bradley attempted to defend himself. 

Above all the noise and the lighthearted teasing, Bradley knew one thing–he was happy. And you had said yes.

----

tagging: @sebsxphia @roosterbruiser @bradshawburner @gretagerwigsmuse @sometimesanalice @joaquinwhorres @roosterbruiser @roosterforme @bradshawsbitch @seresinsweetie @notroosterbradshaw @kmc1989 @peachystenbrough @rhettabbotts @theharddeck @wkndwlff @waklman @blue-aconite @thedroneranger @bibitches-r-us @sunlightmurdock @laracrofted @jupitercomet - tagging ppl either by request or whom i feel like are luv <r bradley. pls lmk if you'd like to be added/removed

[mitchellpete]

Kinktober Day 14 - Virginity

pairing: pete “maverick” mitchell x f!reader

cw: virginity loss (mav), oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex

word count: 1637

kinktober masterlist here.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

-

You didn’t believe him at first. He had to have been messing with you. 

There’s just no way somebody like him was still untouched, inexperienced. Certainly not with the way he presented himself, his outward demeanor, his very big ego. All the pilots in Miramar were the same, so you thought. Some were very easy to take home. It was a regular occurrence, watching them leave the bar one by one, somebody on their arm every time. You could have sworn Maverick was one of them. 

But apparently not.

You didn’t pry, didn’t ask why. You’re sure he had his reasons. Besides, he’d made it clear that he wanted you, and that was fair enough.

It was late, and you’d dragged him to your place, expecting nothing but a make-out session. He was a very good kisser, that you knew—frankly another reason why you couldn’t believe he’d never had sex before. Maverick’s hands had a different idea tonight, dipping against the curves of your body. Wanting to feel everything. It was when he elicited a moan out of you, right against his mouth, that you pulled back. 

“What are you doing?” you’d asked, brow cocked playfully.

Panting from his own heavy kisses, he looked at you. Blinked slowly. “I wanna fuck you.”

Your stomach flipped at his words. “That so?”

A nod.

That’s how you both ended up here: Mav laying back against your mattress, shirt off and chest covered in wet kisses and small little bite marks. Whining softly the lower you traveled. 

“Shh, just relax,” you whisper, running a hand up and down his thigh. 

Maverick sniffles, lets his head fall back against the pillow as your needy hands reach for the button on his Levi’s. He’s already hard in his pants, his body tingling in anticipation. “Okay, okay,” he breathes.

You’re gentle as you unbutton his jeans, taking your time to excite him further. He lifts his hips slightly as you start peeling the material down his thighs, his head bowing again to watch you strip him. You get his jeans off fairly easily, folding them in a messy square and tossing them aside. You kiss up his thighs, feeling him tense underneath your lips as they get closer to his hard on. 

He gasps when you press an open-mouthed kiss over his clothed cock, hips jerking. You laugh lightly, “Baby, I’ve barely touched you,” you coo. 

He whines. “Don’t—oh, don’t make fun of me.” 

You mouth at the thin material of his underwear, his cock twitching underneath. He squirms, wanting more, both hands reaching into your hair. He doesn’t pull, simply rubs his thumbs over your scalp, gentle.

Your fingers curl around the waistband, but you look up at him just to be sure. “You sure about this, Mav?”

“Don’t ask. I’m all yours,” he pants, fingers twirling strands of your hair.

You smile, amused. It stirs something in you, the desire to unfold him. It turns you on intensely knowing you get to make him feel good. That he’s leaving it all up to you.

Pulling his underwear down, his cock jumps free, lands taut against his stomach, hard and leaking. Just the sight of him sends a jolt through you, arousal taking over your body. Your mouth salivates as you lean in, but you don’t want to overwhelm him, remembering to take it slow. You press a soft kiss to the side instead, Mav’s hips continuing to squirm. 

“You want a blowjob?” you ask softly, batting your lashes up at him, your mouth hovering over his length.

Maverick’s lips tighten together, holding back a moan just at your words alone. He nods, head moving quickly.

“Use your words, Mav,” you whisper, leaning in to press another kiss to his heated shaft, tongue slightly dipping against the vein.

He gasps again, removes his hands from your head to curl his fingers around the sheets instead. “Y–yeah, yes.”

You know not to do too much; he did say he wanted to fuck you, after all. Maybe just a few strokes of your mouth and then you’ll give him what he really wants. 

You’re still gentle when you take him into your mouth. Mav’s entire body goes frigid, a strangled moan leaving his lips. One fist remains bunched in the sheets and the other goes up to his mouth, teeth biting down on his finger to hold himself together, relishing in the new form of pleasure budding inside of him. 

You let all your spit gather as your mouth sinks around him, allowing it to leak out all over his cock. It slides all the way down, slicking him up. Maverick’s moans are muffled by his fist, but his cheeks turn an unbelievable pink as the pleasure flows in his abdomen. After a few up and down strokes of your mouth, you let go of his dick with a pop, instead running the flat of your tongue from the tip down the underside. You notice his squirming, how tight his face is pulled together as he tries to hold off his imminent orgasm. So soon already, poor thing. 

You almost want to pull back, but you allow him your tongue just a bit longer as you reach down to unbutton your own pants. Tongue swirling lightly around his shaft, you manage to yank your jeans down the best you can, slipping them off along with your underwear. You feel your arousal pooling down below, and that’s when you finally remove your mouth, spit dripping down your chin. Mav watches as you climb up the bed to straddle him, wiping at your lower face. You slip out of your shirt, throwing all your garments to the floor. 

You remove his fist from his mouth, leaning in to capture it in yours for an eager kiss instead. You take his throbbing cock into your hand as you kiss him, wet and slick from your blowjob, and scoot forward to mount him. At first, you just rub yourself against him, slicking up your folds. 

You get another gasp out of him—right against your mouth—when you test his tip against your slit, feeling to see if you’re ready enough for the stretch. When you pull away from the kiss, Maverick looks broken, his body flushed. He needs more. It’s enough to have you actually pushing the tip inside, watching his lashes flutter in a dreamlike daze.

“Oh—oh, God,” he breathes, fist coming up to cover his mouth again, but you grab his forearm before he can quiet himself. You want to hear every noise he makes.

It takes you just a second to adjust to the slight stretch, though his heated face and his little whines edge you on. You slide down inch by inch until you’re fully situated on the hilt, watching as more and more desperation paints his face.

His lips look cracked from biting at them, so you lean down again to continue kissing him, using your tongue against the plush of his lower lip. His cock fully inside you, you allow him a breather, hips momentarily still. 

“‘m not gonna last,” he rasps against your mouth, hips shallowly thrusting up. “Gonna cum.”

You kiss at the corner of his mouth, trailing down his jaw and underneath it. “Just a minute, Mav. You can do it.”

“Mmm—I don’t—fuck—” He shivers underneath you as you begin to roll your hips. “Oh, fuck.”

You roll your hips as you continue kissing down his throat, tongue finding his collarbone, teeth nipping at the skin underneath. It’s when you pull back and sit up straight that you actually begin sliding up and down on his cock. Slow at first, but there’s a fiery urge inside you, too, and you need it just as much as he does. Your pace quickens without warning, hands against his chest for leverage. You look down at him; you focus on his face, on how intoxicated he looks. His cheeks are crimson, teeth poking out of his parted lips. He stops moaning, the sounds seemingly trapped in his throat before he’s able to choke one out, and then another, and another, sporadically over a few seconds at a time. 

Through your own moans, you ask him, “You like that, Mav?” 

Mav only cries out in response, his hands finding your hips as you bounce, throwing his head back against the pillow again.

Your hips work magically for the both of you; Mav is practically torturing himself trying not to let go, and you’re seeing stars from the angle he’s reaching inside of you. The pleasure turns to electricity, jolts coursing through your body when he suddenly reaches up to cup your breasts, squeezing deliciously. You tremble at his touch, fingernails digging into his chest.

That’s enough to send him over the edge, and Mav cums without warning in warm spurts inside of you. Overwhelmed by the tight, wet heat, he sputters underneath you, groaning loudly. You watch his body jerk and his legs tense, and the sight alone brings you to your own edge. You lean down to capture his mouth in yours as you both cum. Maverick kisses you languidly, mouth vibrating against you as his moans continue to spill freely. 

Not wanting to overstimulate him, you slide off of him and slip into his side. He immediately wraps an arm around you, pulling you tight against his chest. His heavy breathing doesn’t slow; utterly blown away by the orgasm, relishing in it. 

You pant against his neck, head leaning against his shoulder. He’s warm, slightly sweaty and you can feel his heartbeat, quick and booming in his chest. You run your fingers over his chest, feather light touches to help him relax. 

“That was..” 

“Shh,” you quiet him, pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder. “Take it all in for a sec.”

[the-authoress-writes]

If You Please

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Lawyer!reader

Written for @roosterforme’s Top Gun Rocktober Playlist Fic Challenge

Synopsis: It’s not everyday that one’s best friend gets married, it’s not everyday that one is asked to be said friend’s Maid of Honor, and it’s certainly not everyday one meets a gorgeous, blond naval aviator.

Much less that one gets to dance the night away with the aforementioned naval aviator.

Warnings: Nothing, really, just a prerequisite creepy cousin, and a little teensy bit of cursing, but other than that, I don’t think there’s anything else.

Author’s Note: This is my first fic written for a fic challenge, and I am so grateful to @roosterforme for organizing this, and for allowing me to use one of my favorite 80s songs—Alannah Myles’ “Black Velvet”, as well as to @bradshawsbaby, who made the absolutely gorgeous moodboard for this fic.

You are both incredible, lovely people, and amazing writers!!

Everyone should go check out their stories—go, seriously.

I’ve made liberal use of lines from the song in this fic, but it’s just so absurdly appropriate for Jake that I didn’t even really feel that bad.

It’s also my first time writing Jake, so I’m not exactly sure I did him justice, but I’m looking forward to seeing what everyone thinks!

One down, one to go!!

And so, here we go!!!

She looked at her best friend dancing with her new husband, a smile on her lips.

She couldn’t be happier for her best friend, Cristina Nievara, formerly Cristina Machado.

The wedding was perfect, and went off without a hitch, and now, as the Maid of Honor, she could now relax—the hard part was over.

She sighed, sipping from her glass of rosé, rolling her neck from side to side.

At that moment, as if the very air shifted around her, or some preternatural sense alerted her, she became aware of a masculine presence behind her.

“Everyone’s dancing.”

At the smooth Texan drawl, a smile involuntarily split her lips. “That they are.”

“Everyone but you, Counselor.”

She angled her head to look into the emerald eyes of Jake Seresin. “Neither are you.”

“Hmm—little old me, well, I’m just waiting for the right partner.”

Her mouth ran a little dry, and she sipped from her glass again, trying to keep her composure. “And who would the right partner be?”

He hummed lightly, “I have an idea; she’d be kind, gentle—sweet, even—but opinionated when she needs to be, absurdly competent, insanely beautiful, and incredibly sexy.”

She hissed a breath between her teeth. “That’s quite the criteria.

Not sure you’ll be able to find a girl like that.”

“Well, I’m thinking I’m looking right at her.”

She couldn’t help it, her head whipped around to face him, so fast she worried she got whiplash, for her to find that his gaze was fixed intently and intensely on her.

A shiver ran down her spine, and she swallowed reflexively. “You sure you’re looking right?”

Jake made a show of looking at her up and down, his gaze somehow respectful despite the intensity she could see in his eyes. “I know I’m looking right.

Would you like to dance, Counselor?

Only if you please, though.”

She huffed a chuckle, shaking her head. “Well, since you asked so nicely, how can I refuse?”

And she set her glass down, before placing her hand into his outstretched one.

As Jake led her to the dancefloor, she mentally looked back—a month ago, never in a million years did she imagine that she’d be dancing with this man.

One month earlier…

She had no idea how Cris had managed to rope her into this.

But that wasn’t completely the truth; actually, she did.

Her best friend, Cristina Machado, was getting married to her fiancé, Gabriel Nievara, in her and Gabriel’s hometown of New Orleans.

And of course, Cris had to have her best friend as her Maid of Honor.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love Cris, on the contrary, she’d do anything for that woman, they were each others’ ride-or-die since college, but it was moments like this, where she was currently being hit on by Cris’ creepy cousin, Marco, that almost made her reconsider.

And this was only a family and friends get-together at the large Machado family home a month before the wedding.

Marco was going on and on about how much money he made as a real estate agent, and she had been trying to get out of this conversation repeatedly, but she couldn’t get a word in edgewise.

If she had more energy, she wouldn’t hesitate to tell him off, but she had just come from a too-long deposition (literally throwing her dress on after), and her attitude was habitually completely different from the shark she had to be as a lawyer and in courtrooms, like a coat she put on, as a way of keeping her work separate from her personal life.

At this point, she was debating on dissociating from exhaustion, or looking for a way out, any way out—she was even debating the merits of just running away, and locking herself in the bathroom, which was looking more and more appealing by the second—when a drawling voice proclaimed, “There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you!”

She turned and saw a vaguely familiar dark blond-haired man striding towards her, looking rather like something out of a grocery store romance novel, with his movie star-blinding smile, in a pair of dark jeans, and a thin jacket over a henley, Wayfarers tucked into the collar.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I—I just got caught up with Marco,” she beamed, relief coursing through her.

“Well, uh, Cris wants to talk to you, asked me to come get you,” he nodded.

She latched onto that like a drowning woman. “Oh, I better go then, Maid of Honor stuff, you know—it was a pleasure talking with you, Marco, hopefully I’ll see you around,” she said, all in one breath, as she backed away, before immediately turning to follow her savior.

She blew out a breath, running a hand through her hair. “So, Cris wanted to talk to me, right?”

He clicked his tongue, glancing back to Marco, now on the prowl for his next hapless victim, “Not really, I just saw you looking like you would rather the Good Lord struck you dead then and there rather than continue talking with Marco.

But then again, most people tend to look like that when they talk with him.

So I decided to rescue you.”

She blinked. “Oh—well—thank you so much for the assist.

That was pretty good back there.”

“Not a problem, I’m used to coming in clutch.

And I am very good,” he winked, which made her huff a laugh as she fought the urge to tug the collar of her dress—how did it seem to get two or three degrees warmer just then?

He continued, sticking out his hand, “I’m Jake, Jake Seresin.”

She reciprocated the gesture, telling him her name, to which Jake replied, “Mmm, pretty name for a pretty girl.”

She rolled her eyes, “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Can’t help it if it’s true,” he smirked.

God, why was it so hot?

Even for New Orleans, November had absolutely no right being this hot.

“So, uh, how do you know Cris?” she blurted, saying the first thing that came to mind.

“Through Javy,” Jake replied, referring to Cris’ older brother, “we—we’re both in the navy, but I’ve known the Machados for almost fifteen years,” he finished, almost bashfully.

At that moment, it clicked for her who Jake was; she’d seen him in the Machado Christmas photo for several years. “I know Javy’s a pilot, so, are you—”

“We prefer the term naval aviator—but yes, we both fly F-18s,” he finished, a somewhat smug and proud look on his face.

“Fighter jets, huh?

You any good?”

At this, he looked indignant. “‘Any good’?

I graduated number one in my TOPGUN class, you are looking at one of the best fighter pilots in this country.”

“Okay,” she nodded, a chuckle escaping her as she ducked her head, “my sincerest apologies.”

When she looked back up, she saw him turn to face the deck, rubbing the back of his neck, the stone on the ring on his right middle finger catching the light.

“Uh, apology accepted,” he murmured. “And er, Cris is up there on the deck if you wanted to talk to her anyway,” he gestured, turning to face her again.

Well, her romance novel moment was nice while it lasted.

“Ah, I know when I’m not wanted,” she nodded.

“No,” Jake literally yelped, garnering several glances, which made him rub the back of his neck again, “I mean, no, it’s, it’s not like that, I just thought that you might want to be around friends, not a random stranger.”

“Well, I’d hardly call you a random stranger—you did save me from Marco, so I’d say that at least puts you firmly in acquaintance territory,” she deadpanned.

An honest to God guffaw escaped him, and she couldn’t help but note the way it made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

When he got control of himself again, he breathed, “In that case, I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Same here.”

Silence soon fell over them, but strangely, she didn’t feel it was in any way awkward—it felt almost easy, despite the inexplicable rising tension which she could feel beginning to draw tightly.

“Jerk!!!”

She whipped her head in the direction the call had come from, grinning when she saw the jumping figure of Cris, on the deck, as Jake said, who was waving her hand, beckoning her over.

“Bitch!!!” she eagerly called back, replying with the matching nickname she had for Cris, which the latter always joked Supernatural stole from them.

“Huh… so it is true, girls call each other that,” she heard, and she turned to see Jake watching her with a grin on his face.

“It’s a thing we have,” she brushed off, knowing that others might find that strange.

“Hey, no judgment here—I call my wingman Chicken or Big Dick.”

That actually made her splutter. “I’m going to need an explanation for those nicknames next time.”

He looked at her with an expression she couldn’t quite pin down. “‘Next time’, huh?

You uh, looking forward to a next time?”

“Yeah, if only to get an answer for why those nicknames for your wingman,” she breathed. “You’re going to be around—for the wedding, right?”

She tried not to sound too hopeful.

“I’m thinking I will be, and I think for the in between,” he stated, seriously.

“Okay, so I guess I’ll see you around, then.”

“I’ll be seeing you,” and he warmly nodded in a way that made her oddly think that if he were wearing a Stetson, he’d be tipping it to her, before going off towards the grill which was currently being manned by Mr. Machado.

She exhaled sharply, then began to ascend the stairs to the top of the deck, where she was immediately intercepted by Cris.

“I see you met Jake,” Cris grinned.

“Yeah, I did, it’s nice to finally meet the odd man out on your guys’ Christmas card,” she breathed, trying to keep her tone light.

“Mm-hmm,” Cris replied, an odd glint in her eyes. “You two looked… cozy.”

“I—he saved me from Marco, and I was making conversation, you know, but he was nice; a little cocky, but nice,” she replied, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Uh-huh.”

That glint was unfortunately still present in Cris’ eyes, and she lightly shoved the other woman in the shoulder. “It’s not like that, you—you are just… projecting because you’re so stupid happy with Gabriel.

We literally had one conversation, for God’s sake.”

Her best friend poked her in the arm, “‘One conversation’ was how it started for me and Gabe.

And I’m not projecting, you and Jake looked very comfortable together.

And for another thing, you cannot tell me you did not notice how hot he is.”

“Cris!” she hissed, glancing around to see if Gabriel was around. “You are engaged!”

“I am an engaged woman, but I can admit when a man is hot as hell.

And Jake Seresin is hot as hell,” Cris stated, raising her eyebrows, looking expectantly at her.

At first, she just stared, not sure what Cris wanted from her, but when it clicked, she sighed, “Seriously?”

“Admit it.”

“I—” she pinched the bridge of her nose, “I—w—oh, fine.

Jake is hot.

Happy?”

“Very.”

And with a smile, Cris practically bounced over to the other side of the deck.

“Cris! Cris!” She hurried after her best friend, knowing the other woman was undoubtedly planning something. “What are you planning?” she called, soon catching up.

“Planning what?”

“My bestie here finally met Jake, Jav,” Cris beamed, turning to face her older brother.

“Ah, that’s good,” Javy nodded, before also catching the glint in his sister’s eyes. “Okay, glint, you have a glint, what happened?”

“I had one conversation with your friend, Javy, and Cris is blowing it all out of proportion,” she interrupted.

Unfortunately for her, Javy’s eyes lit up in what was practically a carbon copy of Cris’ expression. “Oh. Cozy?” he asked, addressing Cris.

“Very,” her best friend nodded.

“Huh.”

In what was an unnerving display of sibling synchronicity, they both looked at her with identical glints.

“No.

Absolutely not.

Whatever you two are planning, no.”

“What makes you think we’re planning anything?” Javy protested.

She offered them a raised eyebrow.

Javy sighed, “Cris wants you happy, I want my boy happy—you could be happy together!”

“No, I am not going to be matchmade at a wedding!

It’s a walking cliche!” she protested.

Cris and Javy looked at each other, some sort of understanding passing between them.

“Okay, fine, we won’t try to set you up with Jake,” Cris sighed.

“Thank you!”

That was a month ago, and well, if they weren’t going behind her back, and orchestrating things like puppetmasters, which was highly unlikely, she could only chalk the amount of times she’d been thrown together with Jake to fate.

She had been seated with him at every lunch and dinner they were both invited to, paired with him at every wedding-related event and activity, every friends and family outing.

And somehow, there was always one person extra in the outing, and somehow, Jake was always the one to drive her, and only her, in his rental.

If she were being honest with herself, she wasn’t going to complain, especially not when it led to easy conversations allowing her to see below the cockiness, to see and know Jake, and she definitely wasn’t going to complain when it came to the… very hands-on crash courses she received from him when it came to mini-golf and bowling.

She was only human, after all.

And now, after numerous dinners, wedding related events and activities, after getting to know and see him, she could honestly say that she was more than halfway in love with Jake Seresin.

But she was uncertain of where things stood with him.

Yes, he hadn’t looked once at the bridemaids and various women who’d been throwing themselves at him, but that wasn’t a guarantee of anything.

However, that didn’t stop her from taking pride in the somewhat dumbstruck, glazed way he looked at her as she stood there on the altar, his eyes only for her, even as Cris was walking in her very elegant and beautiful dress down the aisle of the church.

She couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at her like that.

The next time their gazes met, Cris and Gabriel had just been pronounced husband and wife, Gabriel dramatically taking Cris in his arms and dipping her before kissing her, to whoops and cheers.

She couldn’t help the way her eyes drifted to Jake, only to find that he was already looking at her, and she swore that that was longing she could see in his piercing gaze, but she couldn’t completely determine the expression before she had to follow Cris and Gabriel out of the church, and from there, they hadn’t seen each other.

Until he asked her to dance.

Now, as they moved on the dancefloor, all she was aware of was him, the feeling of his arms around her, his eyes gazing into her very soul, making heat like fire dance along her spine—but it wasn’t like a wildfire, relentless and uncontrollable.

Rather, it was like a cozy fire on a cold day, one you wanted to just lie down in front of—getting closer and closer until the fire seeped into your veins, into the very marrow of your bones, into your very soul.

And wasn’t that more dangerous?

The filament of her mind that was still cognizant of things, dimly registered that Jake was leading her fluidly and elegantly across the floor.

“You’ve got moves, Seresin,” she said.

The corner of his mouth tipped up. “Enduring two years of cotillion and being pressganged into filling in for uneven numbers at Annapolis’ Ballroom Club will do that to a person.” He gracefully spun her before pulling her back into him. “You ain’t half-bad either, counselor,” he drawled in that slow, southern style.

“I too, bear the scars of cotillion,” she smiled.

That provoked a chuckle and a smile from Jake—and like it always did, that smile did its level best to bring her to her knees.

It wasn’t the obnoxious shark-like grin he had when he was being annoying on purpose, nor the cutting, sarcastic one he used when he was knocking someone down a peg or two.

No.

This one, which she’d only seen directed at her, was like his whole soul was smiling, and it had an innocence about it, despite the fact that at first glance, this man seemed made for nothing but sin.

“Well, in that case, you’ve got very graceful and elegant scars.

And I must admit, I’ve never had such a beautiful woman dancing in my arms before.”

She couldn’t help but scoff and laugh incredulously.

“What?” Jake inclined his head.

“I don’t know if you’re bullshitting me or being honest with me, because I somehow can’t believe that I’m the most beautiful woman you, of all people, have danced with.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “What exactly do you mean?”

“You—you want me to spell it out?”

He hummed, “Let’s just say this witness would like a little leading here, counselor.”

She laughed, before sighing, “You, Jake Seresin, are… well—more than a little bit attractive, and I cannot believe that there wasn’t more than one pretty southern belle in your arms.”

He smirked wickedly, “You sayin’ I’m hot?”

Flustered, she exclaimed, “O—objection—hostile witness!”

“Overruled, witness will answer,” he easily parried.

“Th—that’s not your line.”

He playfully sniffed, “I’m still thinking I’d like an answer, there.”

“You’re killing me here,” she breathed, wanting to duck her head and hide, but in Jake’s arms, there wasn’t exactly any place to escape.

Jake leaned closer, pressing her against him, clouding her senses even more, as he ducked his head to murmur into her ear, his breath warm against her neck, “But you like it.”

She looked up at him, blindly following his lead, placing her trust in him to not let her fall flat on her face, and whispered, “You’re trouble, Jake Seresin.” She shook her head, picked up the frayed threads of her wit and courage, and plowed on. “Yes, I think you are more beautiful than any man has a right to be.

And not just because of the way you look.”

Jake, who had been wearing a somewhat smug expression during her declaration, froze at her last sentence. “That’s new.”

“What?”

“Someone seeing more than a pretty face here,” he replied incredulously.

“I’d kind of have to be blind to not see it, but, I’ve seen what you’ve shown me—what you’ve let me see, and while I won’t presume to completely know you already, I… I like what I see; in every way.”

Some sort of emotion broke in his eyes, something the shadowed dancefloor didn’t really allow her to see clearly, but he murmured, “Dance with me?”

“We already are,” she smiled gently.

“I mean…” he strangely foundered, before continuing, “may I fill your dance card, counselor?”

Teenage her wouldn’t believe what was happening. “Won’t it be boring, dancing with me all night long?”

“Don’t care.

May I?

Only if you please.”

They danced through a more brightly lit area, and she saw the honesty in his piercing sea foam eyes.

In that moment, something told her that if she said no, she’d regret it for the rest of her life, leaving her longing for one more dance. “Well, looks like I’m yours for the night.”

Jake blinked, a rough chuckle escaping his mouth. “You are, huh?”

“Not—not like that—I—” she stammered.

He laughed this time, full and loud, “Relax, counselor, I don’t make it a habit of taking what I’m not given.

I was raised a good Christian boy, after all.”

“Didn’t even know the word good was in your vocabulary,” she breathlessly replied.

“Oh, don’t you remember, counselor,” he leaned in, voice dipping low, making everything fade into the background, “I am good—I’m very good.”

Her breath hitched, and he swept her across the floor, the two of them dancing the night away.

An hour and a half later, the night was wrapping up, and it was time to send the new Mr. and Mrs. Nievara to their honeymoon suite in the hotel upstairs.

She and Jake promptly got separated, eventually finding herself in the press of women lined up for the bouquet toss.

She personally disliked it because it baffled her how a literal bunch of flowers could turn a group of women into feral cats.

So, she was determined not to reach for it, no matter what.

Cris walked to the center of the dancefloor, and counted down. “Three, two, one!!”

In the space between one blink and the next, a massive bouquet of red roses was in her arms, and she couldn’t help but gawk.

Most of the women cheered as they dispersed—though some sent her dirty looks—while Cris approached her, beaming from ear to ear. “Thank you so much, Jerk, I don’t know how I would have been able to make it through without you.”

She clasped Cris’ arms, “It was my pleasure, Bitch.

Now you go get some rest with that husband of yours—” she paused, considering, before finishing with a wink, “or not.”

Cris just laughed, “You too—don’t think that I didn’t notice who you danced with—or rather, who you danced the night away with.”

She scoffed, but Cris whispered, “You do know the tradition behind the bouquet toss, right?”

“Cris—”

“I’m not saying you’re going to be walking down the aisle with him any time soon, but what I am saying, is let things play out, you never know.”

She stared at Cris’ earnest face for a beat, before slapping her lightly on the arm. “You’re so in love, it’s fried your brain.”

“I’m thinking yours is too.

Think about it.”

And with a final hug, all the guests cheered as Gabriel carried Cris out of the ballroom.

Soon after, she was hanging around Candice-Marie, the wedding planner, trying to help in any way she could, but the kindly older woman, with whom she’d been working closely leading up to the wedding, shooed her off, saying, “You go on now, you’ve done enough, sweetheart.

I can handle this.

You go enjoy the rest of your night with your handsome gentleman,” she winked.

She didn’t even have time to reply, or to be shocked, before she was swiftly left alone in the middle of the dancefloor.

She turned, blinking, seeing Jake slowly walking onto the dancefloor to stand before her. “So… looks like it’s just you and me, counselor.”

“Certainly looks that way, Lieutenant.”

He mock-winced. “What happened to ‘Jake’, I thought we were getting along so well.”

She couldn’t help her laugh. “I’m sorry—Jake.”

He fleetingly grinned, before turning serious. “So…”

“So… no plans for a… wild night with Javy?

Night’s still young… ish.”

“He can survive without me.

On the ground, at least,” he teased, inclining his head. “So it looks like my dance card’s empty.

I’m all yours.”

“Oh, are you?” she said, poorly concealing her laughter, at the way the tables had turned from earlier.

He looked at her, wondering what was funny, and she got to see his lightbulb moment. “I—I did not mean it that—I mean—unless—I—I mean—I’m—I’m just going to shut up, now,” he lamely finished.

“That was incredible and adorkable.”

“I’ve been called many things in my life, but never adorkable.”

“First time for everything, I guess.” The moment hung for a beat, before she continued, “Well, you’re in for a pretty boring night, then, because I am exhausted, and I am going to go up to my hotel room,” she sighed.

A frown creased his brow. “You live in New Orleans, and yet you rented a hotel room.”

“I am what, again?”

Jake clicked his tongue, an expression like he was berating himself on his face. “Exhausted.”

It was late, she’d had a couple of drinks (though that excuse was wearing a little thin, given that she’d drank them hours ago), so she allowed herself to be a little silly, and she whipped out double finger guns. “Star witness, here.

But… you can walk me to my room.”

His eyes lit up, and he extended his elbow in the old-fashioned way. “Lead the way, madam.”

They slowly walked out of the ballroom, moving towards the elevator bank.

It was a decent walk, and it was done in a comfortable silence, during which she narrowly kept herself from leaning her head against his arm.

When they arrived at the elevator bank, there was still a decent crowd of people from the wedding stood there, which made her groan. “This is going to take forever.”

“If you’re up for more of a walk, there’s another elevator bank up on the mezzanine,” Jake offered.

A despairing look up at him. “Stairs?”

“Stairs.

But you’ll be in your room sooner.”

She deliberated. “Fuck it—stairs.”

This time, she followed him up the grand oak staircase, wincing with each step—no matter how broken in a pair of heels were, at a certain point, they all became instruments of torture.

At the top of the stairs, she saw that there was blessedly, no one around, but the thought of walking one more step in her heels was a bridge too far, and she tugged Jake towards the mezzanine railing. “Wait, let me take these off.”

Keeping one hand on the wood rail, she eased the strap of her heel out of the buckle, when she overbalanced, and lurched forward.

Strong hands caught her to a firm chest, and she looked up into his verdant eyes, her whole being caught.

“God, but I really want to kiss you right now, counselor,” he rasped, his voice, pure tone draped in yearning.

“Technically, I don’t kiss on the first date,” she instinctively spoke, and she could see his gaze shutter as he began to loosen his grip slightly, when she drew him even closer, pulling him in by fisting her hand in the lapel of his black velvet suit jacket. “But… technically… we’ve already had so many first dates, haven’t we?”

It took him a moment, but she could literally see the shutters on his gaze being flung open, being replaced by a mischievous sparkle. “We have, haven’t we.”

“Hard to see a reason why you shouldn’t kiss me, in that case.”

He smiled, the innocence of his little boy’s smile contrasting with the smoldering desire in his viridian eyes.

The next thing she knew, Jake’s lips were on hers, and he was kissing her.

In a split second, the fire that had warmed her very soul, now rushed through her blood, consuming everything that wasn’t Jake Seresin, until the only coherent thought was of him.

If not for his arms around her, the deep, searching caress of his mouth on hers was enough to bring her to her knees then and there, his kiss a new religion.

The kiss lasted a moment, it lasted eternity, but she knew that from that point on, she’d never have enough—he’d always leave her longing for more.

The breath which so rudely surged into her lungs seemed like poor recompense for his kiss.

Jake looked about as wrecked as she felt, his lashes fluttering over half-lidded eyes, his forehead leant against hers. “An absolutely stunning, whip-smart woman who sees me and likes it, with a gorgeous smile and laugh—damn, I think I’ve found the reason my dance card’s going to be full for the foreseeable future,” he murmured.

A sound between a chuckle and a gasp of air slipped from her lips as a thrill raced through her.

“Only if you please though,” he added, a teasing note in his voice.

“I very much please,” she replied.

“Yeah?”

God, his smile—screw halfway in love—her heart was his through and through.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Now kiss me again.”

Jake chuckled, “Well, since you asked so nicely, how can I refuse?”

He kissed her again, and in that kiss, forever laid at her feet, spread out before her.

What does it say about me that I know exactly what model Ray-Bans Glen used in TG:M?

😂

I did totally take the the “Jerk. Bitch.” interaction from Supernatural.

If you look at the nametags in TG86, below the names, you’ll see “TOPGUN 1”, so I’m going to assume there’s more than one TOPGUN class/session in a year, at least in the TG/TG:M universe.

There’s a headcanon going around that Jake and Javy were either tied, or one and two respectively, in their TOPGUN class, so I went with that.

(I headcanon that Bradley and Natasha were in the same TOPGUN class, and Natasha was number one, while Bradley was number two.)

I vacillate between Old Money!Jake and Working/Middle Class!Jake on a fairly regular basis, but for the purposes of this story, I went with Old Money!Jake.

Apparently, cotillion is still alive and well in Texas, so Jake having that experience is highly plausible.

USNA does have a Ballroom Club, although, like with most things in fanfiction, I might be taking liberties with the time of its establishment, because I don’t know when that got started.

Taglist

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[demxters]

— 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑

robert ‘bob’ floyd x reader

summary: in which you find the handsome stranger of your dreams in the form of one of your frequent bookstore visitors…

wc: 1.1k

warning(s): slight second hand embarrassment from y/n but other than that none!

a/n: baby, baby boy i love you. this is the first time i’ve written in MONTHS and i’m glad it was for the loml bob floyd. feedback is greatly appreciated! <3

(gif credit @unicornships )

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

The chill of the crisp autumn air blows through your little shop just as the door swings shut. It sends a pleasant shiver down your spine from where you kneel in the romance section to take inventory.

Your fingers delicately skim the spines of your favorite novels as you count and check them off your sheet. Too caught up in your own daydream of being swept away by a handsome stranger, you don’t hear the footsteps coming down the aisle when you stand up on your feet.

All the air leaves your lungs as you lose your footing. With eyes clenched shut and awaiting the inevitable you brace for the impact that, strangely, never comes.

A comforting warmth wraps around your middle, breaking your fall.

“Careful, miss!” Your savior makes himself heard.

You deeply inhale to catch your breath, surrounding yourself in the mystery man. Your heart skips a beat at the feel of his chest to your back. He’s lean, yet muscular (not that it mattered, but it was a plus). And his scent… he smelled like a mix of warm spices and laundry detergent in a way that reminded you of home. Your eyes just almost fall shut in his warm embrace. Almost.

“Uh, miss?” The arm on your waist loosens and you feel a firm hold on your shoulders.

God, was he gorgeous.

The naval aviator with the perfect hair and adorable glasses has been there five times since Monday, not that you’ve been counting. It is currently Wednesday.

“Hi,” you gasp breathlessly. Your eyes flick to the patch on his chest. “Lieutenant Floyd.”

A small smile graces his features as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Hi, Y/N.”

“You-you know my name?” A flutter bursts in your chest.

“It’s, uh, on your name tag,” he points to the pin on your apron.

Duh. You feel like an idiot. If you weren’t hot earlier, you certainly are now. You wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole right then and there. “Right,” you clear your throat. “Of course.”

He nods and awkwardly scratches at the back of his neck.

He opens his mouth to speak but you’d rather not embarrass yourself any longer so you point to the register before bolting.

You leave Bob standing in the aisle with pink tinted cheeks. He feels his palms start to sweat as he watches you walk off. Bob’s desperate for another interaction with you. Your wide eyes and rambling sent his heart into a frenzy. The moment he discovered your hidden gem of a bookstore in Fightertown, USA, he knew for certain that it would become his favorite place to frequent. The plethora of books and cute bookshop owner was a plus. He has wanted to talk to you for so long and now that he has, he’s scared you off.

Just talk to her. Bob scoffs to himself as he picks a random book off the shelf. Some advice that was, thanks Hangman.

He makes his way back to the front of the store to see you flipping through a Better Homes and Garden magazine. Bob takes a deep breath, puts some confidence in his stride and makes his way to you.

The sight of your newfound favorite customer with your favorite book in his hands has you practically throwing your magazine to the floor.

“You all set, Lieutenant?” You hope the shakiness in your voice isn’t obvious.

“Bob.”

The puzzled look in your eyes urges him on.

“Earlier you called me Lieutenant Floyd. But you could just call me Bob,” he shrugs.

“Bob,” you test out. It’s a simple name, no more than three letters, yet it feels right on your tongue. Like his name was meant to fall from your lips. “Alright, Bob, your total is $4.50, military discount included.”

He completes the transaction in silence and you rock back and forth on the heels of your feet. You desperately want to say something, anything but you can’t. You’ve never been this nervous around a boy before.

“That’s my favorite, you know.”

Bob looks down at the book in his hands, realizing he didn’t even care to look at what he grabbed. “The Notebook?”

You hum in response as you fiddle with the corner of your magazine. “It’s the perfect amount of romance, true love, and tragedy.”

“Like Romeo and Juliet.”

“Oh, no, nothing like that. My opinion on Romeo and Juliet has almost gotten me killed on multiple occasions, so I don’t want to delve into that.” You dismiss with a shake of your head.

You’re rambling again and Bob smiles. You were just the cutest thing. He could listen to you ramble all day if you’d let him. “I’d love to hear that opinion. Promise I won’t kill you.”

The most beautiful sound falls from your lips at Bob’s poor attempt at a joke. That’s when he knows, he’s absolutely enamored by you.

“You say that now, but once I tell you what I think, you might change your mind.”

“Not possible,” he grins, leaning forward on the counter. “You’re too cute to kill.” Bob’s eyes grow wide at his words. Now it’s his turn to be embarrassed. He’s about to apologize, about to take it back and run out of the store when you stop him.

“You think I’m cute?”

The way your face lights up makes Bob think his embarrassment was worth it. “Yeah,” he lets out, turning redder by the second.

“I think you’re cute too,” you smile, placing a gentle hand atop his on the counter.

Bob’s watch goes off startling the both of you and you pull your hand off his. He finds himself already missing the warmth. “Shoot, I’ve got to run.” He grabs his copy of The Notebook. “Say, what are the chances of me taking you out sometime?”

“I’d say it’s looking pretty good, Lieutenant.”

The wink you send him makes his heart rate rise. “Alright, I’ll see you then.”

“See you then.”

You watch him leave with a lovestruck grin. The squeal that comes from you echoes through the empty store. Who’d have thought your handsome stranger would come in the form of adorably shy, Bob Floyd?

+bonus:

“The Notebook? Really, Bob? I didn’t take you for a hopeless romantic,” Phoenix teases, taking the book off the table and skimming through the pages.

“It looked interesting,” Bob mutters.

A slip of paper falls from its pages, catching Phoenix’s attention. Bob walks over to her and peers over her shoulder, curious to what she found.

For when you’re in the mood for some killer opinions:

xxx-xxx-xxxx

-Y/N

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

[valhallaas]

On My Own

listen here

pairing: bradley rooster bradshaw x female!reader

word count: 1.8k

summary: it’s a nightmare. it’s a memory. if only you could let it go. 

warnings: angst, major character death, stages of grief, mentions of pregnancy

a/n: um. i haven’t written anything in like, four months and i return with this. cool cool cool. angst isn’t my forte, so i did have this beta read. yeah. read and enjoy. would love the feedback!

“Tell me, when’s the last time someone told you they loved you?”

The question isn’t malicious. You mean no harm by it—only genuine curiosity. You’ve known Bradley Bradshaw, Rooster, since your earliest top gun days. You know everything there is to know about each other. You’re best friends, and you know that you’re both on the edge of teetering towards more.

He stares at you like a kicked puppy. Eyes wide, mouth slightly parted in surprise. Your heart hurts a little, because you know that he probably has never thought about it. Silently, you push off the kitchen counter, setting down your glass of wine. Your head tilts, taking slow steps towards him. Bradley flinches when your hand rests on his chest, fingers splayed out over his beating heart.

“Bradley,” you whisper.

“I don’t–” he can’t look at you, hands balled into fists.

“An ex-girlfriend maybe?” you say, slightly hopeful. A slight nagging feeling crawls up your spine. God, it’s been years. Please don’t let it be. “I know Phoenix gets emotional when she’s drunk, did she say it to you then?”

He shakes his head, stepping closer into you. Jesus, what did you do? You’ve never seen him like this before. It’s making you nervous. You never meant to put him on edge.

“Bradley,”

“It was my mom.” He finally whispers after a beat.

Your hand clings to his shirt, your heart breaking. It wasn’t a malicious question. You had no ill intent when you asked. Clearly you didn’t think it through, not really. The far away glaze to his eyes made you want to shove the words right back down your throat. How do you fix this? How could you fix this?

“The last person I told I love you to was you.”

You almost didn’t hear it. A frown taking up your face as your eyes meet his own. Bradley’s staring down at you, adoration slowly creeping over his face. His eyes have gone soft, something you’ve noticed they only do when he’s looking at you. Confusion sweeps over you. When the hell has he ever told you he loved you? Without a doubt you know that you’d say it back. Because you do. You love Bradley. You love him so much that it hurts sometimes.

The corner of his lips pick up, as if hearing your thoughts. “You’re always asleep, a little too drunk, or walking away.”

Why, why would he do that? Stepping closer, hands gripping his shirt, refusing to let him move an inch away from you. Your head tilts up, nose bumping against his. Is this what pushes you over the edge? A hidden confession brought to light.

“Were you afraid I wouldn’t say it back?”

“No,” he whispers, pulling you into him, body flush against his. “Wasn’t sure if I was ready–”

“–to hear someone else say it.” Bradley nods, resting his forehead against your own. “Are you ready now?”

He smiles, lips ghosting over yours. “I love you, sweet girl.”

You can’t help but smile back. You push up on your toes, lips meshing with his. A perfect fit. You melt against him. Hands trailing up his arms, over his shoulders before gipping the back of his neck. A quick taste before you’re pulling back, teeth digging into your bottom lip. Bradley’s eyes are blown wide, gaze fixed on your lips.

“I love you too, Bradley.”

His name is on the tip of your tongue. It echoes through you, a phantom pain that will always bring tears to your eyes. You’re not sure how long it’ll take before you can sleep in the middle of the bed, to touch his side. Your eyes squeeze shut, not wanting to see the perfectly made up side.

Not after the dream you had. Right, yeah. Dream. A nightmare. A memory.

It’s the first time you’ve slept in your bed, in your room. You’re facing his side, everything exactly how he left it. Half full bottle of water sitting next to a picture of his parents on the nightstand. A white hamper next to his closet, the left door barely open. You roll on to your back, eyes opening to stare up at the ceiling. I love you, sweet girl. The words roll over you, making your skin raise with gooseflesh, the hair on the back of your neck stands on end.

Fuck. Why did you think you could do this? No one else did. As if on cue, the doorbell rings, making you jump. You know you look like shit, not that it should come as a surprise to anybody. Slowly, you slink from the bed, keeping your eyes cast to the floor. You count each step, anything that’ll distract you.

It’s twenty-nine steps from your bed to the front door. You aren’t surprised when Jake and Natasha are standing there. Jake’s lips are pulled into a hard line, and Nat’s not even trying to hide her worry. Leaning back, closing the door, you check the clock hanging on the wall. 10:33 am. Swallowing, you face them, a raised brow.

“What’s–what uh, why are you here?”

“Your phone’s off.” Jake bites out, pushing past you and into the house.

You roll your eyes. “I’m not on suicide watch. I’ve been cleared.”

“Yeah, well, those fucking shrinks don’t know you like I do.”

Rubbing at your eyes, your temples, you head to the kitchen. Jake and Nat sit on either side of you. While he stares at you, annoyance gracing his features, Natasha can’t hide her worry. She picks at her cuticles, eyes flickering around the small space.

“Are you okay?” you ask her, hand pausing her fingers.

“It’s quiet here. Almost too quiet.”

You swallow thickly. You had noticed that too. No sports games playing on the television. The piano sits untouched—you refuse to look at it. It breaks your heart, because it’s only collecting dust now. You haven’t known this kind of quiet since before. You never thought there’d be an after. It’ll grow on you, you think. There is no other choice. Your hand pulls down your shirt, covering your stomach. Jake doesn’t miss the movement, eyes narrowing.

It’s been three months. You’ve been grounded for multiple reasons, despite being cleared. Penny had taken you in, nursed you back to health. It seems like everyone knows that you couldn’t be on your own. But you aren’t, not really. You’re finally comfortable with moving back into your shared space. It’s where you want to raise your child. A home that was filled with love and happiness. A home that was all you and Bradley.

“Sweetheart,” your eyes snap to Jake’s, that familiar green glistening with concern. “I made a promise. You will take care of yourself, I will force you if I have to.”

“I know.”

Your world was crumbling before your very eyes. Alarms blaring, lights flashing, smoke billowing all around. Rooster’s voice rang out in your head, giving you orders. When did you ever take orders from him—even if it was to save your life?  

“—now! This is not a dog fight you can win!”

You can hear his voice, but the words aren’t registering. Straight through one ear and out the other. Not like it matters. In only a few seconds, a blink of an eye, a gasp of your breath, Rooster is shot down.

Nothing else matters. Not even the enemy turning and firing at you.

You can’t hear anything. Not the roar of the enemy aircraft hovering over you. Not your heart beating desperately, trying to get out of the cage that is your ribs – desperate to find Bradley. Time doesn’t seem to be moving. Slowly your body comes screaming back to you. It hurts, mainly your left shoulder, but that isn’t going to fucking stop you. With every ounce of strength you have you get to your feet. Clenching your teeth to stop your scream, your helmet is pulled over your head. There’s no sign of blood, not that you believe, not that you can tell any different.

Rooster. Where the fuck is Rooster? Tilting your head up, eyes scanning the sky, you look for smoke. There it is. North. You start running. It hurts. God, it fucking hurts and you’ll pay for it later. If it saves him now though, it’s all worth it. He’s worth it.

You look like a goddamn vision running to him. His own living, breathing angel. Bradley’s gaze shifts. This isn’t right. No. No. He didn’t ever want to tell you. Scared that his love was a curse, a prophecy. It’s like he knew – he knew if he said it he’d end up following in his father’s footsteps. Bradley couldn’t do that to you.

“Bradley, Brad – look at me, baby. I got you.”

You’re ripping off everything, trying to stop the bleeding. He huffs out a garbled laugh, large hands holding on to your own. Teardrops hit your skin and you’re not sure whose they are.

“Bradley,”

There’s a faraway look in his eyes. He smiles. You know, you know. It’s the first time he’s seeing his parents in years, and you are not enough to keep him here.

Time moves quickly. Blood sticks to your skin. He stopped breathing a while ago. You aren’t leaving, you aren’t letting go. Smart pilot, he had his beacon. Is it the cold that numbs you? The silence? Or is it the secret you kept rolling like seasick butterflies in your stomach? Tearfilled eyes lift to meet familiar sea glass ones when his warm hands gently pry yours from Bradley’s. Hangman can’t hide his wince, seeing Rooster’s dog tags embedded into your palms from squeezing them so tight. Past him you see a chopper. They’ve come for you. They’ve come for the both of you.

“Salem,”

“I tried. I–I, I tried. I tried so hard, but it wasn't enough.”

The piano taunts you. Whispers your name, echoes in his voice. God, you miss his voice. Jake’s passed out on the couch, Natasha’s in the spare room. Nat stayed because Jake did. Jake stayed, well, because he cares, you guess. You don’t care about either of them at the moment. Your fingers itching to touch the keys. Natasha had mentioned earlier how quiet the house was. You hadn’t said anything, not wanting to lie.

Sinking onto the bench, your fingers hover over the keys. It’s two in the morning and you should be in bed. You are pregnant after all. But the little thing seems to find comfort here, same as you. They are their father’s child.

Softly, slowly, you plunk at the keys. Your voice is gentle, barely above a whisper. It’s etched in pain, an unrequited goodbye.

Don’t you know I’m no good for you? I’ve learned to lose, you can’t afford to Tore my shirt to stop you bleeding But nothing ever stops you leaving

The sound of floorboards creaking makes you pause. Tears spill down your cheeks at the sight of your friends watching you. They both rush you when you begin to sob. Chest aching, throat closing. You’ll be okay eventually. Because you know better than to believe that Bradley would’ve ever left you on your own.

[plutotcles]

HEY LOVER! ━━━ Jake Seresin.

→ back to. . . top gun.

PAIRING, Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Malorie "Raven" Bradshaw (OC)

SERIES SUMMARY, Six months after Goose died, Carole gave birth to their daughter: Malorie Bradshaw. 32 Years later, in 2019, years after she graduated from Top Gun herself, she is called back to join in on a special mission. However she wasn't prepared to face two ghosts of her past alongside the way — just to her luck, she has best friend Jake Seresin sleeping in the room next to her.

WARNINGS, Death, grief, angst and my poor knowledge about the Air Force.

O. ━━━ I DID IT, DAD, ARE YOU PROUD?

Malorie knows that her graduation from Top Gun is something that she should look forward to, however knowing that no one would be there for her put a damper on that.

I. ━━━ I THINK I'VE SEEN THIS FILM BEFORE.

If there was one person in the world that knew that last names meant nothing it was Maverick. So when Cyclone presents him the 12 aviators coming back for the secret mission, he is not all that interested. That is until he sees two familiar faces: Lieutenant Bradley "Rooster" and Lieutenant Malorie "Raven" Bradshaw.

II. ━━━ DROWNING IN WHAT ONCE WAS.

The last person Bradley expected to meet back at Top Gun was his little sister, dressed up and way too close to Bradley's enemy number one from Academy times: Jake Seresin. After all the last time he saw her she was sixteen and on her way to become a Fashion designer in Paris.

III. ━━━ A FAMILIAR AFFAIR.

A day that was supposed to be just a normal work day turns disastrous for Malorie when she is faced with not one but two people from her past, but Jake can not watch his best friend struggle like this.

. . .MORE CHAPTERS COMING SOON!

[breezymichelle99]

You Shouldn’t Kiss Me Like This | Jake “Hangman” Seresin.

Summary: You Bar tend at “The Hard Deck.” with Penny. You’ve met hundreds of Pilots but there was something about Him that made you want to change your “No Pilots.” rule. And for him you just might. 

Warnings: Some Top Gun: Maverick Spoilers, Mentions of drinking, teasing, flirting, cursing, dancing, a bet, semi aggressive Jake, a lot of tension, angst, confessions of secret feelings, Cocky Jake, protective Jake, Rude Handsy Guy, sweet Jake, Crying, Inappropriate banter, female receiving, protected sex, Breakup, Dangerous mission, relationship doubts, make up, bullying from the top gun guys, Jake getting in trouble, fanboy being a bit of a jerk. 

A|N: Song: Story Loosely based on the country song “You shouldn’t kiss me like this.” Toby Keith. (photos 4 moodboard came from pinterest, I do NOT own.)

You’ve been working the bar at The Hard Deck with Penny for months now. Fighting off every flirtatious wanna be pilot in a 10 mile radius with a sweet smile and another beer. But this time was different. There was just something about him that made your heart flutter. “Y|N, would you mind grabbing that table over there.” Penny begs. You look up and you smile. “No problem.” you whisper. Grabbing a round and heading over to the table of newly minted TOP Gun Pilots. You hear them yapping at him the minute you step to the table.

“Uhhh Ohhh Jake here comes your girl you better look out.” they tease. Poor Jake couldn’t help the light shade of pink that tints his perfectly sculpted cheekbones. For weeks now since the new classes began at Top Gun; LT Jake “Hangman” Seresin had been desperately flirting with you. But you knew his type; cute but cocky, ego the size of Texas, The possibility of a new hot beach bunny on his arm whenever he wanted, but that wasn’t for you. However you had to admit he was pretty cute, but you knew you just couldn’t allow yourself to go there.

“When are you going to seal the deal with her, Seresin you’ve been at it for weeks, time to close brother.” Fanboy teases him.  Jake Slaps him. Fanboy shoots him a look. “Hey Jake.” you whisper. He looks up at you, a wide smile crossing his lips. “Hey Darlin.” he whispers back, playing with that toothpick between his teeth. You swallow hard, That all too familiar flutter returns. And you pass out the beers as quickly as you can, retreating to the safety of the bar as quickly as you could.

Penny chuckled. “Are you going to make him chase you forever?” she asks you. You look at her. “Wait what?” you say, terrified of this conversation. She chuckles again. “Hangman…” she pauses as she watches your eyes light up. She can’t help but see the same sparkle in your eyes that she once had for a certain young Top Gun pilot. She smirks as she catches Maverick's eye from across the bar. “What about Hangman… I mean Jake.” you stutter. Breaking the intense eye contact between Penny and Pete. “He’s been coming in here for weeks now, hopelessly trying and failing to catch your eye and you just smile at him, hand him a beer and walk away… I know you can see the way he looks at you.” she says with a smile. Honestly you hadn’t really paid it that much attention. He was always nice and talked to you like a regular human instead of some prize everyone was trying to win; you thought you were friends, he’d even walked you home a few times.. 

You look across the bar. There he is shooting pool with Bob and Fanboy, laughing. He looked perfect, happy and in that moment you knew Penny was right. You had fallen for Jake. you hadn’t meant to, it just sort of happened. “III hadn’t realized.” you stutter has your eyes meet his. She smiles at you. “That’s just how it happens, one minute you're laughing, thinking about how perfect his smile is, telling yourself it’s never going to happen and the next you're in the back of a police car an MP calling your dad because you spent the night on a joy ride in the sky.” Penny smirks. “Penny.” you laugh as you look over at Maverick sitting at the bar who gives you two a wink. “I can’t.” you say. “Give it a month Top gun will be over he’ll be on to his next duty station and he’ll forget all about little ol’ me.” you say grabbing a rag and wiping the bar, trying your best to run from this conversation. “We’ll see about that.” she says too confidently. But I guess she could say it that way because after everything she had ended up with Maverick. 

The bar slowly cleared out and the restless, weary, and the drunk headed home. You told Penny to go home, that you’d close tonight. She closed every night this week and she deserved the night off. You cleared your last table, wiping it down and tossing the bottles into the recycle bin. You’d been lost in your own little world, the words Penny had said bouncing around in your head, you hadn’t heard the door open. He stood against the door frame watching you sway your hips to some song you still had playing on that old jukebox in the corner. 

It started out as a stupid bet. Could he get you to go home with him but then somehow it turned into something more. It turned into that extra beer you’d bring him after you knew he’d had a bad day, or that smile you’d give him when no one else was looking or the nights he’d walk you home and the two of you would just talk about anything and everything or sometimes nothing at all. It turned into these little moments that no one else saw that meant more to him than anything. How you’d somehow managed to tame him, make him see no one else but you. And yet you hadn’t even realized. Jake “Hangman” Seresin had fallen for you, 

“Holy shit, Jake.” you say breaking his thoughts. He smirked. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you hun.” he couldn’t help the smirk that crossed those perfect lips. You swallowed hard as he made his way across the room to you. Nowhere to run now. 

“It’s okay. I just didn’t know you were still here.” you say. Your heart was beating out of your chest. He smiles. Oh boy. “I heard Penny say you were closing tonight, and I didn’t think you should be here alone so I decided to stay.” he says taking a seat at the bar. Oh Jake. you think to yourself. You blush. “You didn’t have to stay, I would have been fine.” he opens his mouth to protest but you cut him off. “But I appreciate you staying.” you say with a smile that made Jake’s own heart flutter. You leaned against the bar beside him. The two of you chatted for a few minutes. Those gorgeous eyes staring back into yours. 

“Come on.” Jake says, suddenly grabbing your hand. “Jake!” you giggle in protest but yet you still follow him. A new song had started to play on the jukebox.  He pulled you into his arms, dancing with you slowly. “Jake.” you whisper. Blushing again. “See I Love that.” he whispers back looking down at you. “Love what?” You whisper quietly back to him, getting lost in the way he smelt, and how he held you and how you felt in his arms.. He’s holding you tightly as you both sway slowly to the deep country tone of  this Toby Keith song. “I got a funny feeling The moment that your lips touched mine Something shot right through me My heart skipped a beat in time There's a different feel about you tonight It's got me thinking lots of crazy things I even think I saw a flash of light It felt like electricity You shouldn't kiss me like this Unless you mean it like that 'Cause I'll just close my eyes And I won't know where I'm at We'll get lost on this dance floor Spinning around And around And around And around.”  He’s looking down at you and for the first time you realize exactly what Penny had been talking about. The song kept playing on and on and you two kept dancing, getting lost in each other's eyes and you knew this was it, this was the moment everything would change. “That you always call me Jake instead of Hangman like everyone else does.” He says. His fingers caress your cheek now. Both of you are looking at each other. “They're all watching us now. They think we're falling in love. They'd never believe we're just friends. When you kiss me like this I think you mean it like that If you do, baby, kiss me again”  without even thinking Jake leaned down and those perfect lips met yours and he kissed you; Long passionate perfect. Not even realizing what you were doing You wrapped your arms around his neck, running your fingers through his hair, he deepens the kiss. At this point you two had stopped dancing and the song had switched to something else but you hadn’t noticed you were too lost in each other. 

You separate your lips from his slowly. “Jake I.” you pause looking away from him as quickly as you could. His green eyes dropped to the floor. His long index finger tucked under your chin as he made you look back up at him. “What is keeping you from being with me Y|N?” he asks with nothing but sadness in those beautiful eyes. “I can’t, Jake I don’t date Pilots, I.” your words trailed off. “That’s not what that kiss we just shared said Y|N. why can’t you give me a chance. Honestly you shouldn’t have kissed me like that.” “Jake, please listen.” you interrupt him. “I'm sorry.” he mouths, shutting up. The bar is thick with the silence that fills it and for the first time since you had laid eyes on Jake Seresin your heart hurt. His long fingers Caress your cheek and you melt into his touch. “Please talk to me.” he begs. You pull away from him. “I should go.” you say trying to run away but he grabs your arm and spins you back into his chest. “Don't do this.” he begs. You see the heart break in his eyes. 

“I'm scared.” you blurt out as you turn back to him. He stops and pauses. “Of me?” he questions. Silence fills the room again. You shake your head no. He steps to you. “What is it baby?” you can’t look at him anymore you have to get away. But you find yourself telling him anyway. “Of how I feel about you, of giving in to how I feel about you.” you confess. He smirks. Holding you tighter. “How exactly do you feel about me?” he grins and your heart flutters “Damn it Jake.” you curse at him. “I’m crazy about you and your stupid cheezy grin, and your cocky attitude and those damn gorgeous green eyes, and the way you always make me feel like I'm the only girl in this bar, when I know I'm not even close. And how you’re always different around me then you are around the rest of the guys, like your sweet side is just for me. Or How no matter where I am in the bar I can always feel your eyes on me, checking to see if I'm okay. How I love Those nights when you’d walk me home after work and we’d just talk and it felt like we’ve known each other for years even though it’s just been a few weeks. How you threw that guy out of the bar that one night when he got handsy with me. How you let fanyboy tease you endlessly about not getting me into bed yet because to you it's more than a hook-up. How you stroll in here after work with your aviators on and a damn toothpick in your mouth, don’t even get me started on what that does to me when you.” you stop before you get to graphic. 

Jake laughs. “Honestly babe I'm not really seeing the problem here.” he says. You scoff of course he doesn’t. That damn ego. “I'm scared I'm just some consolation prize to you, a conquest. You’ll get what you want, prove to your boys that you're the man after all, move to your next duty station and I’ll be here with a broken heart. I'm Scared to give into my feelings for you Jake. I'm scared to lose you, to lose myself..” you can’t take it anymore, you let the feelings for him overcome you and now you feel like an idiot. Before you knew it his long fingers had intertwined with yours. 

“Y|N.” he whispers. You can’t bring yourself to look at him. You know this is where you get your heart broken. “Maybe at first it started out as a silly bet.” he admits and you sigh. You knew it. “The rumor had been that you don’t date pilots, matter fact you didn’t date anyone, fanboy joked that if anyone could take you home it would be me. But then something happened. The more I got to know you. The more time we spent together. The long talks. You just knowing when I had a bad day and needed a little TLC. The way you say my name. The way you became the only woman I saw in this bar every night, no matter how many of them walked up to me flirting like their lives depended on it, there was only you. I wanted to kill that man that smacked you on the ass that night, had it not been for Mav I probably would have. It’s you and only you and it always will be. Don’t be scared. Please just give me a chance.” he smiles but this smile was different. This smile wasn’t the trouble, cocky grin… this smile was genuine sweet honest and you knew he meant it. 

“I don’t know Jake. What about when Top Guns Over and you leave San Diego. What am I supposed to do then, let you go? Chalk it up to a hot summer fling and let you just walk out of my life to your next duty station, to woo some other girl I can’t.” you had begun to cry. “Hey don’t do that.” he whispers, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Come with me.” he says. “Wherever the next adventure is, come with me.. You and me against the world babe.” you can’t believe what you’re hearing. There is silence once again as you repeat his words in your head. “Are you sure about this?” you ask him. Breaking up the silence. “Because once you're in Seresin you’re in, no take backs.” you laugh. “Oh baby, I'm so in.” he smiles at you before he leans down to kiss you again, hand on your cheek, deepening the kiss. 

“Let’s get out of here.” you say, a look of lust filled your eyes and he knew it was Time to get you home. You take his hand, flick off the lights, lock the door and head out into the stars with Jake by your side. You couldn’t believe this was happening. He catches you looking over at him like he’s not real and might disappear at any second. He smirks. “So do you plan to tell me about the toothpick thing that drives you crazy. Or you just gunna leave me hanging.” you blush. You roll your eyes at him and he laughs. “Hey I gotta know what gets my girl going.” he Jokes. You shove him off the sidewalk. “Gross.” you giggle. “Maybe I’ll tell you or maybe it’s classified.” you add. He shakes his head. “Ohhhh I am sure I have ways to uncover that classified information.” he whines, raising an eyebrow over at you. 

“In your dreams Seresin.” you tease. He licks his lips. You know he’s about to say something dirty but you stop him. “This is me.” you say stopping at the door. The two of you stare at each other for a minute. Jake knows he should take his time. Let you move at your own pace but he was dying to make you his. He’d been thinking about it since the first time he laid eyes on you. “Until next time, beautiful.” he smirks, leaning down to kiss you slowly. He did not miss the unmistakable sound of a moan as his tongue tangled with yours. He pulled away incredibly slowly, making you want more, so much more. But you knew better. “Goodnight Y|N. See you tomorrow.” he says. He can’t stop looking at you. “Goodnight Jake.” you whisper into the dark as you slowly open and close the door behind you. He watches you go. 

You sigh as you lean against the door. What the hell just happened? Did you just break your number one rule? Never date a pilot. You were in so much trouble. And about to get yourself into even more. You opened the door again, throwing caution to the wind and giving in to him. “Jake.” you call to him. He turns around. “Yeah babe.” a wide smirk crosses his lips. He knew you couldn’t resist him. You step off the porch, his body meeting yours half way. “Stay.” you whisper. He looks down at you. Sparkling green eyes locked with yours, thumb running across your cheek. “Please.” you say again. And you don’t really remember what happened next, or if he had even said anything back. you just remember being swept up into his arms, lips kissing yours uncontrollably, him closing the front door with his foot. Quietly asking you which way to your bedroom. You gave him quick directions before his lips find yours again, articles of clothing being disposed of through the hallways as you made it back to your bedroom. 

When you get to your room he sets you down and you both finish undressing. It wasn’t long before his big muscular body was above yours. You look up into his eyes as he looks down at you. “Are you sure about this?” he asks, his long fingers brushing a long strand of hair from your face. You smile up at him. “Of course.” he smirks as you reach up and pull him towards you by his dog tags, his lips crashing into yours. The sweet sound of a quiet moan leaves your lips as his leave yours and trail down your neck.  “Jake.” You whine. 

His hand slides between your bodies separating your thighs, his long fingers sliding between the thin fabric of your panties onto your delicate skin. His lips kissing your neck again, leaving a trail of delicate bruises behind, careful to make sure everyone in The Hard Deck tomorrow would know you belonged to someone. a loud groan left your lips. He smirked that typical devilish little grin of his. He began to slowly rub gentle circles over your clit as he kissed down your body slowly; Neck, clavicle, tongue swirling around your nipple;gently pulling each one between his teeth. You fidget beneath him with each movement of his lips and fingers; a trail of kisses down your navel onto your thigh. There was where he paused for a second. 

You whine. You hear him chuckle. He pulls the elastic of your underwear between his fingers, ripping them off quickly and tossing them across the room. “Jake.” you whine as you hear the rip. “Hush baby.” he says, shutting you up instantly as he runs his tongue over your clit. “Ohhhhhhhhhh Jake.” you moan running your fingers through his hair, pulling it making him groan against you. You always knew he would be good with his tongue, just from watching him play with that damn toothpick in his mouth, but Jesus this man knew exactly what he was doing… “Fuck babe you taste so good.” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin as he keeps going with his tongue. “Fuck.” you cry out biting your lip, pushing your head back further into the pillow, pushing your hips into him. “Ohh God Jake right there. Fuckkkk.” you beg him to let you cum. He used his tongue and two fingers to send you over the edge. “Jesus fuck Jake.” you moan with a giggle that instantly sends a shiver down Jake's spine making him hard. 

Jake licks his lips. “You are my favorite taste, you know that baby girl?” he groans breathlessly as his lips meet yours, making you taste yourself on his lips. “Better stay that way.” you growl biting his bottom lip. “Oh there is no doubt.” he whines.  You reach between the two of you, running your hand over his erection. Jake can’t help but growl. “God the thought of being inside you makes me so fucking hard.” you can’t help but chuckle. “Well, What are you waiting for, Lieutenant?” you say breathlessly into his perfect lips. You had a feeling you would probably regret this in the morning but this man was like the goddamn devil, everything about him possesses your whole body no matter what you just couldn’t control yourself when you were with him. 

He paused, reaching into his pants digging around for a condom he found one in his wallet, rolling it on quickly and returning his body to yours. He kissed you slowly. You moan quietly as he slowly adjusts his hips entering you slowly giving you time to adjust to him. Your hips in perfect rhythm; slow at first before he picks up the pace. Your nails leaving scratch marks down his back, your hips keeping him in tightly as you wrap her legs around him pushing him deeper, guiding him to all the right places. Your lips meet furiously as you roll around your messy bed. Jake knew you were close, as he could feel you tightening around him. He puts his lips to your neck, breathlessly moans in your ear. “Cum for me beautiful.” he begs. His green eyes locking with yours dying to watch all your little movements, hear all your perfect sounds. Without another word you do what you’re told. “God yes Jake.” you call out his name as you cum for him. His name rolling out of that perfect mouth in a loud breathy moan. “That’s a good girl.” He watched as you come undone beneath him. Seconds later he follows with one final thrust of his hips and a loud moan of your name he too would finish. He kisses your lips passionately as he gently gets off of you, disposing of his used condom in the bin beside your bed. Then quickly returned to you. Pulling you close into him. 

You lay there in his arms, fingers dance across his chest. “What’s on your mind?” you ask him as you play with his dog tags. He sighs and you worry. “I don’t want this to end.” he admits. Fingers dancing across your skin. You smile over him. “It doesn’t have too, Jake.” you say running your thumb across his lips. “I'm yours for as long as you’ll have me.” you say, setting aside all your fears from your earlier conversation with him. You were in totally and completely no matter what happens between the two of you now. “I don’t know what's going to happen in the future Jake, I don’t know what's going to happen tomorrow or 10 days from now but I do know whatever it is I want to figure it out with you.” you add. He leans over and he kisses you slowly.  He looks at you for a few minutes before speaking. “I would love nothing more.” he whispers. His fingers caress your cheek. “Why Jake Sereisn, I never thought I’d see the day.” you smirk over at him as you run your fingers gently across his lips. He hums quietly as he closes his eyes, savoring your touch. 

“When you’d be a one woman man.” you whisper as you memorized his perfect features, and how relaxed he looked lying there beside you. How safe you felt in this moment lost with him. You see that cocky little smirk cross his lips and you know he’s about to say something stupid and you can’t help but smile. “Who says..” “Watch it, Seresin.” you say, eyeing him.  He laughs and pulls you on top of him. He brushes a hair behind your ear, his thumb lingers on your cheek. You look down at him. “There is only you, Y|N.” he says before his lips capture yours once more. You were almost certain this moment was what heaven felt like. 

The sun was peeking in through the curtains in your room, waking you up. Last night felt like a dream but you soon realized it wasn’t as you rolled over to see Jake still asleep in your bed. You smile. The picture was perfect as the morning sun danced off his tanned skin. You leaned in to give him a gentle kiss. Letting him get some sleep. As you got out of bed you noticed the trail of clothes all over the floor. You couldn’t help but smirk. You thought you would regret this in the morning, but as you look out into your bedroom to the clothes on the floor and Jake still sound a sleep in bed you knew you didn’t, you knew this was how you wanted every day to look. 

You walk into the bathroom. The first thing you see is the hickies on your neck and chest. You roll your eyes. Clearly those would need to be covered. You turn on the shower and slip in. The warm water felt good on your skin, a million little thoughts running around in your head. You hear the bathroom door open and Jake shuffle in. you smile. You open the shower door and poke your head out. “Good morning, sleepy head.” you whisper, taking him in. He leans over and gives your lips a gentle kiss. “Good morning, beautiful.” he smiles. “Mind if I join?” he asks. You don’t even answer him, you just step aside letting him in. 

The two of you hold each other there under the warmth of the water. Jake looks down at you. “What’s on your mind, beautiful girl?” he asks, his fingers rubbing little circles on your wet skin. You sigh. Too much time alone to think. “What happens now, Jake?” you, ask his light green eyes lock with yours. He smiles. “Well I don’t know about you but there’s only one option for me…” he says with a smirk. You raise your eyebrow at him. “Yeah and what is that?” you ask suddenly skeptical of his answer. “Well baby girl the only option for me, is that you’re my girl..Jake Seresin is off the market.” he says licking his lips and looking down at you like he was ready to devour you. You can’t help the little whine that leaves your lips. “You’re certain about this?” you question. He smiles. “As certain as I was that I wanted to be a pilot, Y|N…” he says reassuring you. He’d tell you ten thousand times if he had too.. YOU are his. 

You smile up at him. “Alright Hangman.. I’m yours.” you say and almost before you could finish your sentence his lips were on yours and he had your back up against the shower wall, the cold tile felt good against your warm skin, his body pressed firmly into yours. But like all good things do, your time together came to a sudden end as Jake looked down and saw his watch noticing the time. “SHIT!!!” he cursed. “What?” you say worried. He started laughing. “I am so fucking late for class.” you both started laughing. “I have to go.” he says with a smile and kiss as he jumps from your shower. He’s drying off as fast as he can and trying to find his clothes as quickly as possible. You smile as you watch him from the door. He meets you half dressed and kisses you wildly. “Until tonight, gorgeous.” he says. “Until tonight, lieutenant.” you smile. “I thought you didn’t date pilots.” he jokes. You chuckle. “I don’t” you wink at him.  He heads for the door but He turns back once more to get one last look at you, like everything with you may have been a dream and if he walks out that door you’ll disappear. “I’ll see you tonight at The Hard Deck, maybe If you’re lucky I’ll let you walk me home again.” you say, the way his eyes lit up with that promise, that was the moment you knew; you were madly in love with him. “I'm gunna hold you to that.” he whispers, getting one more look at you before he closes the door and practically running back to The Hard Deck to get his Truck and prepare for the shit he was going to get from the guys and not to mention, Captain Mitchell. But shit it was worth it. 

The whispers began the moment he stepped foot into that classroom. Maverick gave him a look that he knew if looks could kill he would have dropped dead right there. “See me after class.” Mav says Jake nods he knew he deserved it. He was just grateful he hadn’t been kicked completely out. “Bro what the fuck, you are never late to a single thing in your life what gives.” Payback says. Fanboy and Rooster giving him the same wtf look. He smirks. “Yall boys let me drink too much last night and I forgot to set my alarm.” he lies not ready to give up his secret just yet, he wanted to enjoy it. They all look at him. Fanboy knows he’s lying but he doesn’t press him for now. “Seriously which girl did you fuck last night??” Payback asks. “Had to have been one from the bar there is no way you would just forget to set your alarm.” he adds. “Whoever it was we all know who it wasn’t; that hot bartender, what’s her name Hangman…. Oh yeah Y|N” Jake plays with the toothpick in his mouth, he was about two seconds from flipping out but Maverick shut everyone up. “Alright that’s enough we all need to focus.” he gives Jake a knowing look and Jake nods grateful. 

The class was dismissed for the day and after a rigorous day of flying exercises the team was finally set free. “My office Seresin.” Maverick says as they pass each other in the hallway. “Yes sir.” he nods, leaving his friends and the promise of seeing you to get his ass chewed.   “Sir I'm really sorry for being late this morning, it's not what it seems, I promise I am serious about Top Gun, it was a mistake and I swear it will never happen again.” Jake begins to apologize profusely. Maverick chuckles and Jake looks at him confused.  “I know you’re serious Jake. I know it was a mistake. You may be a little bit cocky sometimes, maybe a bit of a big ego.” he paused because Jake raises an eyebrow at him like hello Pot but he says nothing. “But I know how much this means to you, let’s not make a habit of it okay.” Maverick says. “I really am sorry sir, it will not happen again.” he says. Maverick looks at him. “You wanna tell me the real reason you missed class.” Mav asks curiously. Jake’s smile could have lit up the entire room. “I was with Y|N” he admits. Maverick couldn’t help but smile. “Don’t break her heart Seresin, or you’ll have Penny to deal with and me.” Maverick says as he slaps Jake on the shoulder. “Sir I don’t plan too. She’s everything to me.” Mav gives him a nod of approval and they leave his office both Headed for The Hard Deck, Each after a beautiful bartender. 

The Moment the group hit the door you could hear them talking about Jake, and how he was late, and how he was getting his ass handed to him by Mav right now, and how he lied about why he was late they were so sure of it. You sigh, shaking your head. “Hey pretty girl.” you hear Fanboy say leaning over the bar chirping at you. “Can I get you something to drink?” you ask, trying to ignore his advances. “I'll take a beer and maybe some information.” he smirks. And you try to keep from rolling your eyes. This guy needed to chill and leave Jake alone. You place a beer on the bar sliding it to him. “What kind of information?” you ask, eyeing him. He smirks. “Well obviously you know my boy Hangman.” he pauses to see if there was any reaction from you. “Yeah, what about him?” you say. “Well clearly he’s been after you since we got into San Diego and me and the boys were wondering if maybe you finally gave our boy what he’s been begging for.” he raises his eyebrows at you.”you know a little slice of that sweet a..” his words are cut off by Jake entering the bar. 

“Fanboy, leave my girl alone.” he winks at you. The surprised look on your face must have been worth it all because Jake promptly walked over to the bar cut right in front of Fanboy, shoving him out of the way and passionately kissed your lips.  A 1000 hearts broke that night as the whole bar went silent as you kissed him back. He slowly pulled his lips from yours. “Hi beautiful.” he whispers. You can’t catch your breath. “Hey handsome.” you smirk and the entire bar erupts in cheers. You blush. Jake gives you a wink and you turn a thousand shades of red as you hand him a beer and he casually joins his friends like nothing happened. 

You turn around to see Penny with a big huge grin on her face. “Don't you dare say I told you so.” you shake your head and roll your eyes. “I'm not going too but I knew it would happen. You can never resist a man in that uniform.” she laughs and you both look out across the bar, her at Maverick and you at Jake; who of course just like always was already looking at you. The rest of the night went without any other issues and Jake stayed to help you close once again but this time he drove you home, parked his truck in your driveway and stayed the night again. And that night turned into another and then another and then another and before you knew it he was basically living with you. And things had never been better between you and Jake. and despite the end of Top Gun lumming your relationship was stronger than ever and there was even talk of relocation if he didn’t end up staying in SD. 

“These came for you.” Penny says with a huge smile on her face as she places a huge vase of gorgeous flowers onto the bar.. you can’t help but smile. You pull the card from inside the beautiful bouquet of Daisies. “Thinking of you.”-J♥️ “Thanks Jake.” You whisper as you tuck your beautiful flower bouquet behind the bar to take home with you tonight. You check your watch to see how much longer until he would walk through those doors, aviators covering those gorgeous green eyes, toothpick between those perfect lips, eyes locked on you. Only a little while longer now.

You looked up at the clock at 530 and just like perfectly timed clock work he strutted in. “Hangman, you joining us?” Rooster shouts from across the bar as he stands beside the pool table. “One sec, there's something I have to do first.” he smirks as he walks over to the bar. “Hey beautiful.” he says leaning against the bar top. You turn around, a smile on your face. “Well hello there, handsome.” you smirk leaning into his lips. “Thank you for the flowers, they made my day.” you say pulling your lips from his slowly. “You’re welcome, babe.” he says as his long fingers trace the soft skin of your cheek. “Hey Jake, quit making googly eyes and let me whoop your ass at pool.” Rooster calls to him from across the bar. You both laugh. “I’ll be right back.” he smiles, kissing you wildly as if you were his good luck charm. 

You watched him from across the bar as he and the rest of the pilots from Top Gun laughed and joked and shot pool. Suddenly Maverick came into the bar with a less than happy look on his face. Something was wrong. He looked at Penny then over to you. “Oh no.” you say pausing to catch your breath “They have a mission.” you can feel your heart beating out of your chest. The bar falls silent as he walks in. Penny looked at him with the same terrified look on her face. “All Top Gun Pilots need to leave immediately and report to base ASAP.” he says no further instructions were given. He looked over at Penny and she knew this was doozy.  Jake finds you quickly kissing your lips. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.” he says, even he had a worried look in his eyes. He kisses you once more before he leaves with the rest of his flight mates. 

You couldn’t stop the ache in your chest. You knew what this meant, you had been here long enough to know, you’d seen Penny with Mav enough, overheard conversations. What could you do? Sit and wait, that's all you could do.  The bar closed early that night and you headed home to wait for any word from Jake. but there was nothing; radio silence. And you knew that meant nothing good. Finally you heard the door open and shut. It was well after 2am. “Jake baby?” you call to him as you get out of bed and run to the living room. You stop instantly when you see him. There was silence for a long while, too long. “It’s bad isn’t it?” you ask him. He looks up at you with those perfect green eyes and you knew it was. “Come here.” he says, calling for you. You walk over and he takes you into his arms holding you close. “Jake, talk to me.” you whisper. 

“Can I just hold you for a second babe?” he asks, his breath warm on your neck. “Of course.” you whisper holding him tighter.  There in your living room there was silence, just the sound of your two hearts beating, and soft even breathing. After what seemed like hours Jake separated himself from you. His green eyes filled with worry looking down at you, long fingers caressing your cheek like he was memorizing your features. “There's a mission.” he finally whispers. You knew it. You pull yourself slightly away from his embrace and look up at him. “It’s going to be dangerous, isn’t it?” you ask already knowing the answer. 

“They are going to pick a select team of pilots and then a back up team to support them if anything were to go wrong. There are going to be trials all week and test runs before the teams are selected, it will be intense and rigorous.” he says with a deep sigh. In your heart you knew what the right thing to do was; not be a distraction to him during this important time in his life. You look away from him. “No no no don’t do that.” he begs you. He could see it in your eyes. “Jake I can’t ask you to worry about me right now, you need to focus on this. I know.” “Babe.” he begs you. “Jake I can’t please.” you had begun to cry. And he knew you had your mind made up. “I can’t be a distraction Jake, I can’t have you thinking about me while you’re on a dangerous mission. I can’t be the reason.” you sob. He holds you tighter. 

Even though his heart was breaking he understood. “Y|N.” he says quietly. Tucking his long fingers under your chin, making you look up at him. You can’t look up at him but he makes you. “I understand.” he whispers.  “When I get back, when I'm done with training and with the mission I'm coming home, and I'm getting you back. No matter what or when YOU are my girl Y|N, I am falling in love with you and absolutely no dangerous mission will ever keep me from living my life with you.” he says, kissing your lips wildly. He separates from your lips slowly. “This isn’t goodbye.” he whispers as he reaches the door. He almost has the door closed behind him leaving you standing in the living room before you call after him. The door opens back up and you throw your arms around him. “I love you Jake.” you whisper, kissing him slowly. You pull your lips away from his getting another good look at him, fingers tracing his chiseled jaw. “Go Kick Some ass Seresin.” you smirk at him. He smiles and right there in that moment he knew he too loved you. “Yes ma’am.” he says with a wink as he slides his aviators over his gorgeous green eyes. 

You watch as he leaves. Not knowing if you would see him again. As you close the door you realize that he had slid something into your hand before he left. His dog tags. You squeeze them between your fingertips. “Oh Jake.” you begin to cry again. You slid them around your neck vowing to never take them off until he had returned to you. The next few days were like a whirlwind. You barely knew what happened. “You know Mav will take care of him right, will take care of all of them, Jake will come home safe.” Penny pleads with you trying to get you out of the funk you’re in. “I know he’ll try his best but you can’t promise things won't happen.” you say. The bar was nearly empty without the pilots. “He’s going to be Fine, he’s Jake.” she whispers. 

Jake had yet to win a simulated mission he was struggling. This was the first time in his career he was unsure of what he wanted. Did he want to fly a dangerous mission? Did he want to be in a committed relationship with a beautiful girl whom he was madly in love with? The answer was yes to both. He just didn’t know how to navigate them both. “Seresin.” he hears the sound of Mavericks stern voice call to him after training. Jake tried not to roll his eyes but this was the last thing that he needed right now, to hear how poorly he was doing. 

“Sir?” he says, turning around. “What the heck is going on with you son?” Mav asks, slapping Jake on the shoulder. Jake had a hard time believing that Penny hadn’t told him Y|N had broken up with him. “Haven’t seen Y|N in a while.” he adds, eyeing him. Jake sighs. “She told me she loved me sir, and then broke up with me. I'm dying here. I can't think straight, I know she was right in giving me the space for the mission but that’s the problem now I can’t stop thinking about her. And what if I never get to tell her I love her too, more than anything, she changed my life. And what if I don’t get to tell her that.” Jake confesses. Mav couldn’t help but Chuckle. “Look Jake, you two will work through it, you just have to figure out how to balance a job you love and a girl you love. It took time but Penny and I figured it out, you just have to communicate; which to be honest I wasn’t always great at but we figured it out in the end and the two of you will too. Just give it time, I promise. You’ll see.” Mav says. Knowing he was headed to The Hard Deck to give you a talking to next, because he could not have his best pilot acting up. Jake sighed. “I hope you’re right.”Jake says. “I’m Always right kid.” Mav smirks at him. And they both laugh

“Now come on Seresin you got this, get your head in the game tomorrow’s another day.” Mav says and he heads over to the hard deck. Jake thought about everything that Mav said to him. He knew he was right but he felt like a mess right now and he really missed you. But he knew if Mav and Penny could work things out then so could the two of you. He would take the night to refocus. 

“Look here missy I know you think you are doing what’s best for him but the boys a mess.” Mav says as you bring him a beer. “Look, I just want what’s best for him. He didn’t need me as a distraction.. I'll talk to him, Mav.” you say. Looking away from him. “Good because I need my best pilot back, alright.” he jokes. You shake your head at him. It wasn’t your intention to become more of a distraction to him, you just wanted him to focus on the mission and not you. You would give him some space and then talk to him. 

Maverick came into the training room, very serious. “Time tables been moved up, we have one day to get this right and it’s game time.” Everyone in the room looked at each other. Jake swallowed hard, it was now or never. That day Jake flew his best mission ever and was named to the first flight team for the mission. “I knew you had it in you.” Mav says as he passes Jake in the hall. Jake had been crashing with Fanboy since the break-up and if he was being honest, he was his buddy yes, but he definitely wasn’t you. “Guys are going out, you want to come?” fanboy asks. Jake looks at him from his bunk. “Nah i'm good. Thanks though.” Jake says putting on some stupid Netflix show and scrolling through his phone looking at pictures the two of you had taken together. 

He stopped on one in particular. You were sitting on the beach watching the sunset. He had caught you looking at him instead of the sunset and he loved the way you were looking at him, so he couldn’t help but document the moment. He sighed. Two seconds later fanboy came running back into the room. “Warning order Hangman, it’s go time.” he laughed. Grabbing his go bag and heading out. Jake slipped his phone into his pocket, got back into uniform, grabbed his bag and headed to the hanger. 

“Place is dead tonight.” you say as you arrive late to work. Penny gave you a look and she knew you hadn’t heard. “You haven’t heard?” she says looking at you worried. “Heard what?” you say. Your heart had begun to beat out of your chest. “The mission got moved up, the guys are shipping out tonight.” Penny says, recognizing the instant fear in your eyes. “WHAT? That can’t be!!!” you shout looking around the bar hoping to see Jake, hoping to find those gorgeous green eyes already looking at you but he’s nowhere to be found. “Mav called to tell me the guys started clearing out about 20 minutes ago.” “Shit.” you curse. All the things you have yet to say running through your head. “Penny I'm sorry but I have to go.” you say grabbing your bag and running full speed out of the door. You had to find Jake before he took off, before you had to live with the biggest mistake of your life; letting the best man you’ve ever known get away. 

When you got to the flight line you could already see guys getting into their jets you knew you had to find him. “Miss, I don't think you’re supposed to be out here.” someone calls to you. But you ignored them, you had a mission of your own; Find Jake Seresin and tell him you love him, tell him you’re an idiot and you should have never given up on him, on us. Tell him he better make it back to you in one piece. “Rooster!” you call. He looks back. “Y|N?” he says, turning around. “Have you seen Jake? I really need to talk to him.” you pant you had been running since the bar. “I think I saw him heading to the flight deck, If I see him I’ll send him your way.” Rooster says. “Thanks.” you smile at him, but keep going on your way. “Good Luck.” he shouts after you. 

But suddenly you see him. Standing out on the flight deck; flight suit on, aviators covering those gorgeous green eyes. “JAKE!!!!” you call to him. He turns to see you standing there in that short light yellow sundress he loved. “Y|N” he says, turning quickly as you run to each other. You throw your arms around him. “Y|N what are you doing here?” he asks his long fingers caressing your cheek taking you in. “Penny told me about the warning order and I couldn’t let you leave without telling you this; I love you Jake Seresin, I want nothing more than to chase this dream with you, to hold your hand on the beach, kiss you as the sun goes down, travel the world with you, fight with you, make up with you, have a few kids with you someday. Be your compass in the dark, your home, your safe place.” you say, you were crying but you couldn’t help it. 

Jake couldn’t help but smile. “I love you too, Y|N. There is no other woman in the world I would love to have by my side. You make me feel safe, and happy and there is nothing more I want than to spend it with you. When I get back we’ll hash everything out but I love you so much.” he says leaning down to kiss you even though he knows better he couldn’t help himself. “You can hear someone calling him but you don’t want to let him go. “Hey.” you whisper. He looks back at you. “Come back safely to me. Okay?” you say touching his cheek with your hand. “always .” he whispers. Kissing you passionately. You can hear Maverick calling to him but you can’t bring yourself to pull your lips away from his. 

“I love you.” he whispers. “I love you too.” you say letting him go. He looks back at you once more. You wave trying not to let him see you cry. You see Maverick slap him on the back and they smile at each other. For the first time in weeks you felt complete. You didn’t know how long the mission would take but you knew you would be there when he got back. You worked the bar with Penny and got as much information as you could from her but still the passing time made you crazy. You worked a lot while he was gone trying to keep your mind as busy as you could, trying not to focus on the what ifs. 

Finally it was late and you were cleaning up the bar. It had been a long day and all you wanted was a glass of wine and hot bath. You had tossed the last of the bottles into the recycle bin and were wiping down the last table when you heard a sound behind you. You turn quickly to see what it was. “Penny told me you were closing tonight, thought I might stay and help, Maybe walk you home.” his voice, deep and smooth as ever and you would recognize it anywhere. “Jake Seresin, you can walk me home any night.” you say, wrapping yourself in his waiting arms. The two of you hold each other there in the dim bar light, neither one saying a word. “When did you get back? I would have been there.” you say looking up at him. “About an hour ago, we had a debrief and then I came straight here to you.” he says. “Wanted to surprise you.” he smirks. “Well color me surprised.” you smirk. You couldn’t let go of him, you felt like if you let him go he might disappear. 

He chuckled. “Hey, I'm not going anywhere.” he whispers. “What would you say about a Glass of wine and a hot bath?” you ask him as you toss the rag into the sink. He spins you around back into his arms. “I think that sounds perfect, baby.” he leans down and he kisses you. “I love you, and I'm glad you’re home safe.” you whisper into his lips. “Me too baby, me too.” those green eyes meet yours.  

The pair of you walk about to your place hand in hand, Jake telling you about the mission, well what he could tell you anyways, you hanging on his every word. He got the wine while you drew the bath. “Ohhhh Jake.” you call to him from the bedroom. “Coming babe.” he says walking into the room with two glasses of wine. “Ohhh my.” he says practically dropping the glasses on the floor at the sight of you. “This view is almost as good as the sight of you in that short yellow sundress you showed up in before I left, I almost had to go UA baby girl.” he says licking his lips. He sets the wine glasses on the counter and strips out of his clothes. He hands you the wine glasses and slides into the tub behind you, his large muscled body envelops yours as you melt into each other. 

The time passed Quickly as Jake graduated with top Honors from Top Gun. with Orders to stay in San Diego. You stayed working at the bar with Penny. Mav and Jake got pretty close, and Jake eventually helped him teach a Top Gun class. As for you and Jake, the two of you got engaged in a special moment shared by some family and friends at a beach side villa in SD. The Two of you planning a future together; one full of adventure, love, and dreams come true.

Part Two: The Rest Of My Life With you 

[nocapesdahling]

Hold My Hand

Gen Fic: Pete “Maverick” Mitchell and Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw

My Masterlist

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw grows up without his dad, but his mom and Uncle Pete are there every step of the way. Snapshots of Bradley’s life told from his POV. Top Gun: Maverick spoilers.

“So cry tonight. But don’t you let go of my hand. You can cry every last tear. I won’t leave til I understand. Promise me, just hold my hand.”

Rating: T

Tags: Canon character deaths; References to illness; Angst; Fluff; Hurt/Comfort; Top Gun (1986) references; Time skips to conversations and scenes set post movie; Pete “Maverick” Mitchell acting like one of Bradley Bradshaw’s parental figures; Mav has never been a dad before but he's trying his best

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: I really enjoyed the movie and wanted to write something that showed more of Bradley's life pre-movie and delved into his relationship with Maverick. I also posted this on AO3 a few weekends ago if you’d prefer to read it there, my username is SnowLeopard167. Thank you to the lovely @inklore and @clints-lucky-arrow for encouraging me to post this here <3 Hope you enjoy!

His dad is dead, and it hasn’t sunk in yet. There’s no laughter anymore, no music. All they’re left with are the effects he left behind, just like he left them behind. When his mom gives him the dog tags, they’re both crying and they can’t seem to stop.

She pulls him close to her chest and they fall together, pulled into and lost under an ocean of grief. It may have been hours, but it feels like minutes. Time has no meaning anymore anyway. Not now.  

When her tears have begun to dry, she pulls back from him and runs her hand through his hair. “They’re yours. He would have wanted you to have them, Bradley.”

She lifts them over his head, even though they’re much too big for him and he falls asleep with the tag clutched in his hand — the letters branding themselves on his palm. From then on he wears them every day without fail, keeping his dad close to his heart.

As he grows older, Uncle Pete comes by often. Bradley calls him Uncle Pete while other times he’s his Mav, depending on the day, and sometimes Bradley can barely look at him. He’s Dad’s best friend and the best uncle — all of his friends are super jealous that his uncle is a cool pilot — but Uncle Pete’s alive while his dad is not. Maverick was flying the plane and as much as his mom tells him it’s not Uncle Pete’s fault, he can’t help but blame him sometimes at night when he can’t sleep.

During the day, he forgets about that because Uncle Pete is his favorite person. He can’t control his laughter when Mav plays catch with him or his shouts while Mav teaches him how to ride a bike. He watches avidly as Uncle Pete teaches him how to work on his motorcycle and how to tie a tie with the added comment of “You need to know this just in case, but don’t wear ties Bradley. Not if you can help it.”

These are things he should have done with his dad, but his dad’s not here.

It’s only years later when they’ve all come back alive and he’s back to speaking with Maverick — he’s back to loving Mav, though he never really stopped; instead, he attempted to smother the embers of love with a blanket of bitterness and hate — that he realizes that no one could ever put more blame on Maverick for his dad’s death than Maverick puts on himself. And it’s time to let go. His dad loved Mav, loved flying with him, and Rooster does too.

It’s his first piano recital and he couldn’t be more nervous. He’s confident in his skills, having practiced for his Mom and Uncle Pete and received claps and enthusiastic calls for an encore, but that was at home on his dad’s piano. This is here. In front of everyone.

He peeks around the curtain and his mom is right there in the front row, poised with a video camera, but the seat next to her is empty. He tries not to feel disappointed. It had been a long shot for Uncle Pete to get here anyway with his posting, and he’d just been to his baseball game a couple of months ago yelling and telling him as he ran the bases that, “Now was the time to feel the need for speed. Run home, Bradley!” He’d scored the most runs out of anyone on the team that game.

There’d be other piano recitals. He nods to himself and listens as his predecessor begins to finish their song. It’s time.

He steps onto the stage as his teacher announces him.

“Bradley Bradshaw in his first recital, playing for us the —“

His mom’s waving at him brightly and making motions for him to smile while gesturing at the camera. It’s who’s next to her that almost makes him stop before he gets to the bench. Mav made it. Uncle Pete’s here in his customary leather jacket that Bradley had spent his childhood trying on with a pair of his dad’s sunglasses, hoping he could look as cool as his Mav. He’s made it. And somehow, Uncle Pete’s smile and his thumbs up make all the nerves go away.

He doesn’t need to think while playing his piece. He’s done it hundreds of times by now. It’s more natural that way. His family’s here and that’s all that matters.

Later, much later, he’ll tell Mav about that first recital and how much it mattered that he was there. Maverick would laugh and say, “Do you know how many speed limits I broke to get there, kid? I wasn’t missing it for the world.”

He’s in high school, playing baseball and getting the grades he needs to go to the Naval Academy, when his mom gets sick. First, it’s just headaches but then it’s more. Much more. Then, she’s in the hospital and they say she only has months. That’s it.  

Most of his life it’s just been him and his mom with Uncle Pete showing up as much as he can, but he’s not there all the time and now Bradley won’t even have his mom. He’s in high school and his mom is dying. She’s not supposed to die until he’s older, but when does life ever go the way it’s supposed to? If it did, then his dad would still be here and his mom would still be healthy and smiling. Alive instead of withering away before his eyes.

He goes to visit her every day before school or after practice, whenever he can. He doesn’t want to miss the few times she’s awake.

He’s working on his homework, his hand grasping hers and trying not to hold on too tightly even as he wants to grip it with all his might and make her stay with him. Her hand feels fragile in his, breakable — like with one wrong move it would shatter like his world is shattering around him.

That’s when he hears steps across the floor. Steps he knows like his own. A hand rests on his shoulder and it’s only then that Bradley realizes he’s crying and he doesn’t know when he started or how to stop. The calloused hand reaches down to grasp his and Bradley grips it with all of his strength. He’s not alone anymore. Not in this.

Uncle Pete’s voice is soothing, “I’m here, Bradley. I’m here, kid.” And he loses it, crying in a way that he hopes doesn’t wake up his mom. He’s only 16 years old and he feels too old and too young all at once. All he wants is a hug from his mom, but a hug from Mav will have to do. When he drops his books on the table and throws himself against Uncle Pete’s chest, his warmth and his scent that’s never changed since he was a kid bring Bradley more comfort than he’s felt in months. Uncle Pete is here, his Mav is here, and he can breathe again.

Later, while they’re working on Mav’s plane with Mav teaching him as they go just like when they used to work on his motorcycle, he’ll ask Mav for the first time what his mom said to him before she died. He never asked before, the grief too heavy and too near with her last words to him echoing too loudly in his ears for him to worry about what she’d said to anyone else. Mav pauses as he reaches for the next tool and his voice when he speaks is rough, “Your mother was an extraordinary woman, and she made me make her a promise.”

“A promise?”

Mav nods and hands him the tool, “Move it to the right a bit. That’s it. You’re a natural at this, kid. You always have been.”

Bradley already knows that he won’t get more out of Mav, not when he doesn’t want to talk. He never finds out what that promise was, but he assumes knowing his Mav that he kept it and that’s good enough for him.

His mom deserves that much.

He hasn’t been this nervous and excited in a long time, maybe since that first piano recital actually. He’d applied to a few other colleges and academies just in case, but his heart is set on the Naval Academy. His heart is set on flying just like Mav and his dad.

Today’s the day the letter will be arriving. He’ll know today. Whether or not his dream will become a reality.

The mailbox when he gets home is full of the usual, bills that he’ll set aside for Uncle Pete to look at when he gets home tonight and coupons, but there’s three letters mixed in. One from the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy and two from state colleges.

There’s nothing from the Naval Academy.

He throws the mail on the table and frantically checks through it all. Still nothing. It couldn’t have been delivered to the wrong house because all the other mail is here, so where is it? He doesn’t understand and will not understand until he calls Uncle Pete a few minutes later.

“Today was supposed to be the day, Mav. The letter from the Academy was supposed to come today. I don’t know where it is.”

The other end of the line is silent.

“Uncle Pete, do you know where it is?” Bradley knows that his voice sounds desperate, pleading for his Mav to make it alright again.

“I do. I —“

“You do? Is it delayed in the mail? Does Uncle Ice know where it is?”

There’s a moment of quiet and Bradley thinks that maybe the call dropped when Mav speaks again, “I pulled it. I pulled your application.”

There’s a moment of disbelief. A feeling of disconnect. As if this is happening to someone else. Before the betrayal burns through his chest.

“You pulled it?” The anger comes swiftly mingling with the betrayal. “You made it so I couldn’t even be considered? How could you do this to me?”

“Yes.” There’s a pause before Maverick speaks again, “You’re not ready, Bradley. Not yet.”

The feelings of safety and love that Maverick had always brought him are evaporating as though they had never been, pushed down deep and buried. Who is this man? Had he ever known him at all?  “That’s not for you to decide, sir. How could you? I trusted you.”

“Bradley, wait I — “

“I never want to speak to you again.”

He can’t listen to what else this stranger wants to say — he doesn’t want to hear more excuses from the person he trusts, no that he trusted, the most in the world — and hangs up. That man is no uncle of his. He can’t forgive him for this.

A few days afterwards in between ignoring Maverick’s attempts to talk to him, he’s calmed enough to consider his options and decide on his future. He sends in his acceptance for the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy. Screw Maverick and his high-handedness. He’ll show him. It doesn’t matter what setbacks he’ll face, he’s going to be an amazing pilot and nothing and no one will stand in his way.

Bradley grows a moustache at the academy that looks just like his dad’s and starts wearing Hawaiian shirts when not in uniform. His dad’s sunglasses are an ever present accessory. It makes him proud to look in the mirror and see how much he looks like his dad, even as there’s a twinge of pain every so often that his dad isn’t there to see it. That his Mav isn’t there to see it.  

He works hard at the academy and graduates top of his class. He has something to prove because Captain Pete Mitchell decided for some reason known only to him to set Bradley’s career back four years, and it still burns.

No matter what, he’s determined to fly.

When he graduates, there’s no one there for him and he misses his mom more than ever. What he wouldn’t give to feel her arms around him and to see that video camera that he’d always shied away from again. Before he gets lost in what if’s on what should be and is one of the happiest days of his life, his buddies drag him over to each of their families to introduce him to their parents and grandparents. At one point, he thinks he sees a familiar figure in the distance but shrugs it off as he turns to take a picture with his friend.

If he’d looked closer, he would have seen Maverick walking back to his motorcycle with a wistful smile. Bradley didn’t graduate alone today after all.

After years of work, it’s all paying off. He’s been invited to Top Gun. To Top Gun! See Maverick, not ready my ass. He’s one of the best and now he has the invitation to prove it. His goal is to graduate top of his class again while living through training.

The only one standing in his way is Hangman. Hangman’s good and he knows it. He’s also an arrogant pain in the ass. They’re neck in neck through every exercise, even as Hangman has to be one of the worst wingmen in existence. He lives up to his name by leaving people out to dry more often than not.

“Hangman, where are you? Do you have my back?”

“I’m in position, and do I need to have your back? I thought you wanted to be the best, Rooster.”

Rooster’s “dead” before he can blink and Hangman ends up edging him out by a couple of points to graduate at the top because of that exercise. Rooster comes in second, just like Pete Mitchell.

It doesn’t sting as much as he thought it would. He’s still graduated Top Gun among the best of the best, and most of all he’s graduated Top Gun alive. To fly another day, and that’s more than his dad got. Bradley hopes that he’s watching, proud and singing along every time he plays Great Balls of Fire. He hopes that his mom is sitting on his dad’s lap, cheering him on.

Later, after the mission from hell where it turns out that while Hangman may be an asshole he’s a life saving one and someone he might be able to call a friend in the future, they all meet up in The Hard Deck for a celebratory drink. Hangman joins in on the Great Balls of Fire sing- along for the first time, just as into it as Phoenix and Fanboy. He’s got a surprisingly good singing voice too.

“What do you think, Hangman? Better than Slow Ride?”

“Well, I don’t know about that. You might have to sing it again to convince me, Rooster.”

When everything’s all said and done, they’re working on the plane again in the garage in silent camaraderie when Mav clears his throat awkwardly.

“I’m not one for big speeches, Rooster.”

“You never have been. Where are you going with this, Mav?”

“But there’s something I keep meaning to tell you, so let me get it out. Without any sarcastic comments.”

“Me? Making comments? Using sarcasm? Never. Who do you take me for?”

“Very funny, Bradley. All kidding aside…” Here Mav looks at the wall of pictures, his eyes lingering on Goose before speaking again, “Goose would have loved flying with you. I think even more than he loved flying with me, and that’s saying something. Then again, nothing can beat how much I loved flying with him and now you, kid. You’re a great pilot and a better man. Your mom and dad — well, they’d be proud of you. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Uncle Pete.”

“Uncle Pete? That’s the first time you’ve called me that in years.”

“That’s the first time it’s felt right in years. Not to ruin the moment, but I have to ask. Who’s the better pilot, Uncle Pete? Me or you?”

Mav shakes his head and smiles, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Rooster. You still have a long way to go.”

“And you’ll be there every step of the way?”

“And I’ll be there every step of the way, I promise.”

“Well, I know you don’t break your promises.”

“I never have and I never will. Sometimes to my detriment. But especially not to you. Now, I think it’s time we go for a flight in this baby.”

“I thought you’d never ask. Drinks are on you after. We’ll invite the whole team.”

“Aren’t they always on me?”

“Yeah, they are.” Rooster’s tone changes from joking to serious, “Thanks, Uncle Pete. For everything.”

His Mav claps him on the shoulder, hand a comforting and warm weight as always. “No, thank you kid.”

“Now, let’s go. I feel the need —“

“The need for speed. Last one there gets the passenger seat.”

“You’re on, Rooster. Be prepared to lose.”

Reblogs, comments, and likes are always much appreciated!

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear what you think. I do have some thoughts for a potential Reader/Original Character in the Top Gun universe as well that I'm excited to work on.  

My Masterlist

[chestnut-devil]

“As the guy I’m screwing shouldn’t you be fending them off from your woman?”

Being the arsehole that he is Bradley laughs at her. “1. I know that you’re more than capable of fending them off yourself, I wouldn’t want to deprive you of that pleasure. 2. If I fended off everyone that hits on you then we wouldn’t be screwing Jake and I like screwing Jake a lot.”

Ugh. He has a point - she hates it when that happens.

[amysteryspot]

Milk and toast and Honey | B.B.

Summary: Reader tries to recover from being left by Jake and ends up finding solace in one of his friends without even knowing it.

Warnings: mentions of unrequited love and heartbreak, angst to fluff, a little bit of jealous Jake, Bradley being the best boyfriend, misunderstandings, implied sex (not explict), past Jake x Reader, military innacurancies, post Top Gun: Maverick.

Word Count: 6.5K

A/N: I come back to you with the sequel nobody asked for, but @wherethewildfanlives inspired. The title is a song by Roxette and is where the new nickname for the reader came from. It also inspires a little bit of Readers relationship with Bradley.

Part I - We're Not Lovers | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw Masterlist | Jake "Hangman" Seresin Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Follow my writing in @mysteryslibrary

The process of falling out of love with Jake was hard. It wasn’t like he had done anything wrong, he just kept his side of the promise you two made to each other, so it was impossible to hate him even though you wanted to.

For months you pretended like everything was normal. It wasn’t that hard of a task, your friends barely knew Jake. He was just the guy that constantly snatched you away for the night and that disappeared the next day. Everything seemed okay until your best friend announced she was getting married and you broke down.

She sat there with you for half an hour without understanding what had just happened and then you told her everything. Her first reaction was getting angry at Jake, which you understood because it would be your reaction too if the roles were reversed. In the end, she decided that the popular saying was going to be the solution to your problem: get over someone by getting under someone else.

And that’s how you ended up in a bar, against your will, to try and get your head over the one who broke your heart. You sat there, uncomfortably, bouncing your leg as a way to try and avoid your nerves.

“Just try and relax,” your friend said. “If you want to go back home I won’t force you to stay.”

You thought for a moment. Going back home didn’t sound any better than staying at the bar.

“No,” you said, “I’ll stay for a little bit.”

“That’s my girl,” she smiled, waving at the bartender to get you both some drinks.

The two of you got a table, and, after a while, she left for a minute to get a refill. You got distracted by the city lights outside the window and only noticed that she had arrived when she was already standing there next to you, smiling like the cat who got the cream. Then you looked at the guy standing next to her and understood everything.

“I just met Bradley at the bar, he’s friends with Thomas. I thought he could make you some company since I’m heading home.”

You were sure that the look you gave her could kill, and so did the guy standing next to her that was trying his best not to laugh. He was handsome in a very different way, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a mustache that not every man could pull off.

“He’s a naval aviator,” she added and your blood turned cold.

The man—Bradley—seemed to notice your discomfort, but before you could get a word in, she kissed your cheek and bid you both goodbye.

He made no mode to sit down and you swallowed hard.

“If you’re not comfortable I can leave…”

“No, it’s not you, is…”

“A little soon for the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ conversation, ain’t it?”

That made you laugh, and Bradley seemed satisfied with himself, a smile appearing on his lips. He was even more handsome like that.

“In her defense, I asked about you first.”

That caught you off guard. It’s been a while since you’ve received male attention, you noticed. Since you and Jake started to fool around you had practically ignored any other man that tried to talk to you. A mistake you weren’t committing again, you decided.

“Do you mind?” He asked, pointing at the chair in front of you.

“No, I don’t mind,” you said, observing as he placed his beer on the table and sat down in front of you.

“I can ignore how you froze when she said I was a naval aviator. Do you have a problem with the Navy?” Bradley asked.

“Not exactly, I just…” You pondered for a minute, trying to decide if you were really going to pour out your heart to a complete stranger. Maybe that would be easier than talking with your friends. At least he would have a clear point of view. “I had a brief… thing, with a naval aviator.”

“A thing?” He raised a brow.

“What we had couldn’t be called a relationship.” You confessed.

“Ah, friends with benefits then.”

Jake’s words flashed in your mind.

“We were just strangers.”

Bradley nodded, taking a sip of his beer.

“It didn’t end well, I assume.”

“We ended on good terms…”

He interrupted, “But you wanted more.”

You nodded. “But I wanted more.”

“His loss, then,” Bradley said, leaning his elbows into the table to take a closer look at you.

“Is it?” You asked, expecting a cheap pickup line.

“No man is an island,” he said. “Fear of commitment will only come to bite you in the end.”

You stared at him for a moment, caught off guard again.

“Are you talking from experience?”

“Yeah, I am.” He confirmed. “With the job we have, letting yourself be afraid to have a relationship of any kind because you never know how much time you will have with them is the easiest way, but it is also lonely. After a while, you get tired of it and sometimes it is too late to go back.”

“It’s a tough way to live.”

“It was the only thing I knew until I realized that nobody is certain that they will be here tomorrow and that loving my friends and my family was better than being on my own.”

“A wise decision.” You complimented.

“Thanks, I guess.” He smiled. “But tell me your story. If you don’t want a date, I can at least be your ear for the night.”

And so you told him everything. From the day you met Jake until the day you let him go. And Bradley listened intently.

“Wow, this is…

“Sad,” you interrupted.

“I was gonna say fucked up, but sad works too.” You let out a little laugh at that. “He just left? Didn’t even try to convince you otherwise or even talk about your relationship?”

“No, but I think he just didn’t want me to hurt anymore.”

“But you’re still here hurting anyway.”

“It wasn’t his responsibility to take care of me, we didn’t have a relationship.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’ll have to disagree on that…” He stopped once he saw you flinch. “What is it?”

“Just… You called me sweetheart.”

“I had to call you something since I still don’t know your name.”

You thought for a minute. It would be easier to just give him your name. He probably wasn’t a psychopath if he was friends with Thomas, but you wanted to see where this was going first.

“Anything but sweets or sweetheart.”

“Okay, what about honey?”

You smiled shyly. “Ok.”

“So, you have to let me disagree with you, honey, but yeah, you two were in a relationship.”

You swallowed hard, never having thought about it that way. When Jake and you were seeing each other it was better to just ignore it, anyway. You didn’t want to get your hopes up for something that could never happen.

“Can we change the subject?” You asked after a minute.

“Do you want to know the time I totally made a fool of myself at the Academy?” Bradley was quick to offer, with a playful smile on his lips.

You just nodded, and he started to tell you his story, making you smile and laugh more than you expected to. The two of you ended up staying at the bar until the owner kicked you two out. Then Bradley insisted on accompanying you to your home. Despite your better judgment you agreed.

He had a blue Bronco that was easy to miss in the parking lot (even though it was practically empty, the car just stood out just like its owner). Bradley opened the door for you, helping you in, and then got in himself, asking you for directions.

When he parked in front of your building you were a little disappointed if you were completely honest with yourself. You had a good time with Bradley, better than you had in a long time, and you didn’t want it to end. He must have caught your frown and took the opportunity as an invitation to ask to see you again.

“I know you’re close to romantic relationships right now, but nothing forbids us to be friends,” Bradley said, looking at you expectantly. After what seemed like a minute too long for him, you said

“Yeah, I would like that.”

His smile was worth the shot.

Much to your best friend’s surprise, you did stay in touch with Bradley. He called you for coffee the day after you two met. And then you two set up another meeting at the bar for the next week. Not to mention that you kept messaging each other back and forth.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” Mary confessed, and you looked up from your cell phone still with a dumb smile on your face from something that Bradley had said.

“Hum?”

“You and Bradley,” she explained. “I wasn’t expecting that you two would get along so well.”

“I… He is…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.” She interrupted. “I’m just happy that you have somebody that makes you happy after everything that happened.”

“It’s not like that, he’s just a friend.”

“Better yet. We don’t have to worry about all the drama you’ve gone through the last time.”

Taking a deep breath, you said, “He’s just easy to be around, you know.” You confessed. “I missed that.”

“You deserve an easy love,” She said, but you noticed Mary didn’t elaborate.

Before you could dwell too much over it, your intercom rang.

“Are you waiting for someone?” Mary asked and you frowned.

“No.” Getting up from the couch, you quickly walked to answer it.

“I’m sorry to bother you, miss, but there is someone here at the door with a package for you.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll be down in a minute.” You said hanging up. “There’s someone with a package at the door.”

You commented a little surprised still.

“Strange,” Mary said and you nodded, agreeing with her. “Did you order something?”

“No, but I’ll be back in a minute.” You said, putting on some shoes and then getting out the door. Once you arrived at the main hall you immediately saw a guy with a giant bouquet waiting beside the doorman.

“That’s her,” you heard the doorman say and the guy walked up to you, saying your name.

“Yes, that’s me.” You answered, confused.

“Can you sign there for me, please?” He asked, pointing to the place where you had to sign. You did it, giving him the pen back. “Here you go.” He then said, giving you the bouquet.

“Thank you,” you stuttered, taken aback by the surprise, returning to your apartment with a shocked expression.

“Oh my God, please tell me it wasn’t that asshole that sent you these.” Mary got up from the couch coming to meet you as soon as you stepped foot into the living room.

“No, I… Jake wouldn’t do this.”

She snatched the white card from the middle of the flowers.

“But Bradley would.” Mary teased, turning the card around so you could see Bradley’s name in it.

Snatching the card back from her you shoved the flowers into her arms and proceeded to read it while she took care of the bouquet.

Wasn’t sure which flower you liked the most, so I asked for a few in hopes that at least one gets your attention. I hope you have a good day.

You smiled and Mary was quick to tease you.

“What did he say?”

Giving her the card you walked to the table where she had placed the vase of flowers. They were beautiful and in the middle of all the colors was one of your favorite flowers.

“Sweet,” she said. LNever thought that a guy like him could be like that.”

“A guy like him?”

“Common, have you looked at him?” She asked you, surprised by your question. “I’m sure half the people in that bar that night wanted him.” Mary seemed to think for a second and then added, “Or more.”

“Why would he do that though?” You asked, more to yourself than her.

“Did that asshole make you feel so bad like you didn’t deserve affection?” She asked in anger. “People love you and want to see you happy. Bradley did what he thought would make you smile like he always does when he’s around. God, we used to send flowers to each other.”

“We should go back to that.”

“We should, but that’s not my point.” She reprimanded. “Even if the both of you want to stay just friends, he seems like a good guy to have around. Bradley certainly cares for you or he wouldn’t do all these little things like, sending you flowers or picking you up to have lunch with him in the park, or watching chick flicks with you. He wants to see you happy, is that so hard to understand?”

“I…” You didn’t know how to answer her. Did Jake play a part in your life in such a way that now you believed you were unlovable? You never thought about it this way, but now that Mary had pointed it out a curtain seemed to open in front of your eyes.

“I just…”

“Do you want my opinion?” She asked, interrupting you. “You’re falling for Bradley and you’re having a hard time believing it.”

“I’m not falling for him!” You exclaimed.

“Yes, you are.” She insisted. “It’s been months, babe. You can allow yourself to heal.”

“I…” You fought the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes.

“Come here.” She said, pulling you into a hug.

Deep down you knew she was right. You felt something different for Bradley. Something that wasn’t love yet, but it wasn’t just friendship and you didn’t know what to do with that.

After what Mary said you started to try and notice some things. Bradley was slowly but steadily breaking down all the walls you build around your heart.

He was so sweet and caring that it was hard not to feel anything when he was around.

And then came the first blow.

“I’m going on a deployment.” The information for you in surprise. You were sitting down on the floor of your living room eating and watching some tv.

“You’re… where?”

“Europe, they don’t have a place settled just yet, probably Spain.”

“I…”

“I would stay if I could.” He reassured you. “God, I really don’t want to leave you.”

“How much time?” You asked, still too shocked to think straight.

“Six months.” That made your stomach drop to her knees. “But they can extend it.” He watched you, making a move to take your hand.

“God, Brad, will you take care of yourself?” You pleaded.

“Anything for you, Honey.” He promised, pulling you into a hug. You ended up on his lap with his arms around you and you never felt so torn.

The both of you tried to ignore it for the next week, but it was difficult to overlook that it was hovering over you every time you saw each other.

“Stop thinking about it.” He reprimanded as you two were having a picnic in the park.

Bradley had surprised you, appearing at your door with a picnic basket saying that he would wish you away for the afternoon. Mary was there and giggled at the gesture, making a quick exit so you two could be alone, even though Bradley had extended the invitation to her.

You two ended up in the middle of the park, in the middle of the grass we’re some families were enjoying the day.

More than once Bradley had to throw a ball to a kid, and he didn’t seem to mind, rather enjoying it, which made you smile dumbly.

“Think about what?” You tried to redirect.

“You know about what.” He said, giving you a knowing look.

“Don’t don’t do that.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re worrying too much.”

“I can’t just not worry, Bradley.” You sighed.

“I’m not saying you can’t worry, I’m just saying that you can leave aside for a moment and enjoy the time we have together.”

You shook your head to focus. “I’m sorry. I just… this is new.”

“I know.” He said, taking your hand in his. “And I’m sorry for putting you through it.”

He looked guilty and you squeezed his hand to reassure him.”

“If that’s the price I’m paying to have you, I’m willing to go through it.”

He gave you a half smile that you reciprocated, and you two continued to eat in comfortable silence.

Bradley invited you to go to base with him to say goodbye. You were a ball of nerves, not having been able to sleep the previous night. You tried to make yourself look alright but you’re sure you looked a mess.

“A beautiful mess,” he said, smiling at you and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Don’t make me laugh.”

“But the sound of your laugh is one of my favorite sounds, don’t know how I’ll go six months without it.”

That made your heart melt and you didn’t know how to respond to that.

An officer called his name and you couldn’t fight the tears from falling from your eyes anymore.

“Oh, no, Honey, don’t cry for me.”

“Just… please take care of yourself.” You pleaded, brushing off a speck of inexistent dust from his flight suit.

“Anything for you, Honey.” He said, embracing you tightly.

When you separated, before you could overthink it, you leaned in and kissed him. It was a chaste kiss but it was enough to make your heart race.

“God, fuck, Honey, you know how to make a man want to stay.” He rested his forehead against yours for a second before leaning in and kissing you again, deeper this time, as two lovers would.

“Just come back safe.” You asked him, reveling in being in his arms.

“I’ll come back for you,” he said, giving you a peck on the lips as the officer called his name again.

You watched him go, chest heavy with the anxiety of not knowing where what just happened left you two. And you could do nothing but wait.

Exchanging emails back and forth was your way of keeping the feeling of missing each other at bay. When he had access to a phone he would call you and you two would talk for as much time as you could, but neither of you mentioned anything about the kiss at the base.

Slowly you started to go out more with your friends and alone. Mary helped you through it and you were a little bit surprised at how everyone had missed seeing you around. Things were good with your job too, so you had nothing to worry about except for Bradley.

You missed him terribly, not having noticed how intertwined in your life he was. At least once a week you two would get coffee together in the mornings, and there was the occasional lunch here and there, but the last few weeks he was home, Bradley stayed more at your apartment than his own.

Even when he was not there, Bradley always made a point of still being present, either sending you little gifts or leaving notes around your home, doing little tasks you didn’t even ask to. Your lives were deeply connected and you didn’t even notice it happening.

Your world seemed to come tumbling down on a fateful night that you decided to come to a Navy Bar near the beach called the Hard Deck. Bradley had told you about it and you weren’t even sure what you went looking for there that night, but it certainly wasn’t seeing, through the window, Bradley sitting at the piano, playing and singing happily with his friends, you assumed, around him.

Feeling your heart sinking, you were quick to turn your back on the bar, taking your leave before any tears could fall from your eyes. Then you heard someone calling your name.

You quicken your pace but he was faster than you.

“Honey,” he calls after you. “Wait!”

Gripping your arm lightly, he forces you to turn back and look at him. At this point, it is too late to pretend you weren’t crying and you recognize the guilt in his eyes.

“This is not a good time, Bradshaw.”

“You never call me Bradshaw.” He says, sadly.

“Maybe I should start.”

“Honey, I’m sorry.”

“No, you don’t owe me anything.” You say, trying to detach yourself from him, but he only pulls you closer.

“Yes, I do.” He insists. “And I’m sorry for hurting you in any way, it wasn’t my intention.”

You could do little but nod. The two of you weren’t official, for all it was worth, you were just friends and friends didn’t owe each other all the little details of your life.

“When did you come back?” You asked, sniffling.

“Yesterday.”

You repeat it under your breath and Bradley cuts you out before you can continue. “I was going to call you, but thought that it would be better to surprise you.”

“Consider myself surprised.” You scoffed.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was going to go to your house tomorrow, a bouquet of flowers in hand, asking you to come to the Hard Deck with me and meet my friends as my girl.”

Your brain short-circuited at the words “my girl”. He wanted you to be his girl. Bradley wanted a relationship with you. Since Jake, you thought that it would be impossible for you to want a relationship with anyone else, but you found out you were wrong.

You wanted Bradley. All of his mornings and all of his nights. The months he would be at home, cooking and cleaning with you, and the months he would be deployed, sending you emails and flowers from the other side of the ocean.

“Don’t try to play me…”

“I’m not,” he assured you. “I swear. You can ask, Nat. She’ll tell you how much I took her ear off talking about you during these past few months.”

“Who is Nat?”

“Phoenix.”

That name was familiar. You knew most of Bradley’s squadron by what they would call “callsigns”. You knew how good Phoenix was in fighting for her own place and how good of a pilot she was, how Bob seemed to blend into any place and was actually really sweet, how Payback and Fanboy were funny together, how Coyote was loyal and how Hangman left everyone out to dry until he didn’t.

You’ve never seen these people but it was as if you knew them. They were a good part of Bradley’s life and he was part of yours. It was impossible not to get things mixed.

“Can you forgive me?” He asked, hands resting on your hips and squeezing them lightly.

Pondering for a moment, you sighed and then brushed your nose against his.

“Just take me home, Lieutenant.”

His smile was bright as he said, “Yes, ma’am.”

That was the first night you spent at his apartment, a mess of limbs tangled in his sheets. But you would soon learn that Bradley being home wasn’t the only surprise you were going to have.

Bradley woke up before you the next day, and when you finally stirred awake you smelt coffee in the air, so you assumed he was making breakfast. You dressed before heading to the kitchen, but something caught your eye. There was a panel with photos hanging on the wall and curiosity got the best of you, so you walked a few steps to it, smiling as you saw glimpses of Bradley’s life. Until you spotted something that made you freeze.

Extending your hand to take the photograph from the panel, your eyes focused on the man beside Bradley.

Jake.

You almost jumped at the feeling of two strong arms sneaking around your waist.

“Good morning, Honey,” Bradley murmured against the skin of your neck, voice raspy from sleep, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“‘Morning.”

He gave you a peck on the lips and then his eyes focused on the photo in your hands.

“I see you found Hangman.”

“Jake is Hangman? The Hangman that saved your life?” You asked, turning around in his arms.

“Yes, but how do you know his name?” His brow was furrowed in confusion.

“Hangman is Jake.” You said, turning the photo for him to look at.

“I know, but how do you know his name, Honey?”

Shaking your head you explained, “No, Bradley, Hangman is Jake. My Jake.”

It took him a minute, but finally, realization dawned on him.

“Oh fuck.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, putting the photo back in place and disentangling yourself from Bradley's arms to sit on his couch.

He just stood there for a couple more seconds before shaking his head and turning to you.

“What do you wanna do?”

That caught you off guard. You expected almost any kind of reaction, but not this.

“There’s nothing to do, Bradley,” you sighed again. “He’s your teammate, your friend. I don’t want you to change that just because of me.”

“Honey…”

“No, it’s…” You took a deep breath, trying to keep track of your thoughts. “Don’t do anything that could cause you some kind of problem. I don’t want you to get into trouble because of me.”

“Honey,” he says, walking back to the couch and pulling you to sit on his lap, forcing you to face him, cradling your face in between his hands. “I would get in trouble for you anytime.”

You smiled weakly, “I know, but I don’t want you to.”

Bradley leaned in to kiss you square on the mouth. He poured all his heart into it, you could feel how much he cared for you and that was enough to make your heart swell.

“Then I won’t be getting into trouble unless he does something to hurt you.”

“He won’t do anything, he never liked me the way I liked him, there’s no reason for him to be angry.”

“You won’t have a problem meeting them tonight, then?” He asks a little unsure.

Smiling, you ask, “You want me to meet them?”

“Of course I do.” He reassured you. “Told you yesterday. I want my team to meet my girl.”

Your heart swelled. “It’s so early, Bradley. We are barely together.”

“I knew I would love you from the day I met you, but if you’re not comfortable with it we can wait.”

Your heart was beating fast at his simple admission. “You love me?”

Bradley smiled at you, brushing his nose against yours.

“Of course I love you,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “What’s there not to love?”

Unable to contain yourself you leaned in, giving him a passionate kiss, pushing him onto his back.

“Breakfast will get cold.” He murmured against your lips, hands traveling from your waist up, bunching up your shirt on its way.

“Breakfast can wait.”

Even though you were sure your feelings for Jake were gone, you were a ball of nerves getting ready to meet him and Bradley’s other friends. You knew a lot about them, but you didn’t know how much Bradley had talked about you or what they knew. Did Bradley talk to them about the guy that had broken your heart before he appeared in your life? Did they know that you felt for Bradley the same he felt for you?

“Honey, I’m home.”

You smiled at the sound of Bradley’s voice. The two of you had exchanged gifs after eating your cold breakfast this morning, and hearing him say that he was home for you was making you feel all kinds of things.

“I'll be out in a minute.” You finish up the last touch of your outfit, opening the door of your room and walking to the living room, only to find Bradley standing there with a huge bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand and a dumb smile on his face. “You didn’t need to.” You murmur against his lips before taking the flowers from him.

“But I wanted to.” He simply says. “Especially after the fiasco of yesterday.”

“I wouldn’t call yesterday a fiasco.” You joke, raising an eyebrow at him suggestively.

“You know what I mean, Honey, don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not holding it against you,” You assured him, taking his hands in yours. “We didn’t talk about where that kiss left us before you left, we are both to blame for that, and even though I would have much preferred to learn you were stateside in another way, we did talk and straighten things out. That’s all I ask of you. Honesty.”

“And you have it,” he said, leaning in to give you a peck on the lips. “I promise.”

“Then we’re all good, Bradshaw.”

Bradley rolled his eyes. “I hate when you call me that.”

“What? It’s your name, after all, and I kinda like it.”

“Oh, you like it?” He asks, a smug grin on his face, as you both sway from side to side, bodies close together.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Well, honey, maybe in the future we can make it yours.”

“Maybe,” you agree before pulling him into a kiss, which almost makes you ditch his friends and keep him all to yourself. “Let’s go before your friends start thinking that I’m hogging you.”

“Wait a sec, Honey.” He says, pulling you to him again, but this time he had a serious expression on his face. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” You smile at him, touched by his worry about your feelings. “Whatever I felt for Jake is gone. I’m with you now, and I love you, so there’s nothing in the world that could keep me from being a part of your life as a whole.”

He smiles back at you. “I love you too, Honey.”

“I know, you keep saying that to me even before you actually said it.”

He kisses you lightly and then takes your hand, guiding you to the door. “Let’s go then.”

The Hard Deck was what you would expect from a Navy Bar—packed with people in uniform. There were pool tables and a dart board, tables where people were hanging out, and an old piano near the counter.

You were still nervous about meeting his friends, but Bradley made his best in reassuring you by squeezing your hand.

He was headed to a group of people in a corner near a pool table. You were partially hidden behind him, so nobody noticed as you tensed when you heard a familiar voice.

“Bradshaw, as I live and breathe.” You could hear the smile in Jake’s voice and assumed he was at least a little bit happy to see Bradley.

“Hangman,” Bradley answered with a nod.

Then you felt a pair of eyes on you and saw the woman sitting beside a guy with glasses getting up from her sit.

“So this is the woman Rooster won’t shut up about.” She exclaims walking to the two of you and giving Bradley a little tap on the arm.

Bradley looked back at you as you stepped aside to stand beside him.

“Yes, this is Honey.”

You smiled at her as she made a move to see if it was okay to hug you. Giving her your name, you let her pull you into a tight embrace.

“Honey suits you better if you don’t mind.”

“No, I really don’t.”

“I’m Natasha, but you can call me…”

“Phoenix,” you supply and she looks surprised at you. “Bradley told me all about you all.”

“Only the good things, I hope.” One of the guys approached you. “Payback,” he said, offering you his hand.

“Of course, only the good stuff,” You smiled.

“And I’m Fanboy,” the one behind him says.

“I’m Bob,” The guy with the glasses stands to hug you.

“And I’m Coyote,” the guy beside Jake says, looking between you and his friend, that had his eyes trailing on you.

“Aren’t you going to introduce yourself, Bagman?” Phoenix asks when Jake doesn’t make a move to say or do anything.

“Jake,” he says, approaching you and extending his hand for you to shake, “ or…”

“Hangman.” You interrupt him, as you shake his hand.

He nods, before saying, “I’m going to get a refill,” and then walks away to the bar.

“But he just had taken a full bottle!” Bob exclaims and both Payback and Faboy just shrug.

Both Phoenix and Coyote seemed to have caught something, looking between you and Bradley and then at Jake, suspiciously, but none of them said anything.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and Bradley pulled you into his side, giving you a forehead kiss.

“Alright?” He asked, looking at you.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I’m good.”

Conversation flowed after that, but you could feel that from time to time, Coyote and Phoenix would look at you almost expectantly. It seemed that it passed unnoticed that Jake hadn’t returned from his venture in the bar. Maybe it was a common occurrence.

After some time you saw Coyote leaving too, probably going after his best friend. The minutes passed and none of them made it back, so you made a decision that you might regret in the future.

“I’ll be back in a minute.” You said, looking at Bradley to see if he had understood where you were going.

“Want me to go with you?” He asked, still holding your hand and getting Phoenix's attention, and you did your best to ignore the look she gave you.

“No, I’ll be right back.”

Bradley nodded, letting go of your hand and continued chatting with his friends as you headed outside. You found both Jake and Coyote a few meters from the bar, standing on the beach. Jake was walking from side to side as Coyote seemed to try and calm him down.

“May I talk to him for a second?” You asked Coyote, making him look at Jake and then at you again.

“Ok,” he nodded. “If you need anything, I’ll be in the parking lot.”

“Thank you,” you said, watching him walk away, and then turning your attention back on Jake.

“I see you moved on.” He said to you, venom in his voice.

“Don’t start, Jake.”

“Start what? I'm not starting anything.”

“Yes, you are, and you know it.”

“You said you wanted more.” He spat at you.

“And you said you couldn’t give it to me.”

“So you thought you could find it in one of my friends?” He scoffs.

“I didn’t know Bradley was your friend and I don’t see the reason why it matters.”

“You did that to what? Huh? Hurt me?” He asks, taking a step closer to you. “To throw at my face what we could’ve had?”

“No, we couldn’t, because you didn’t like me that way, remember?” He frowns and you continue. “We were not lovers, remember? We were just strangers.”

“And what if I liked you that way, huh? What would you do?”

“Don’t do that, Jake.” You plead to him.

“I couldn’t give you what you wanted then, but what if I can’t do it now?” He takes another step forward, now standing right in front of you.

“You don’t like me that way, Jake. Your ego is just bruised and…”

“My ego?” He asks, incredulous. “What about my heart?”

“You don’t love me, Jake!” You exclaim, getting his attention. “Maybe you like the idea you made of me, the same way I loved the idea I made of you.” You pause, taking a deep breath. “I love Bradley, more than I can put into words. I only discovered you were the Hangman he always talks about yesterday, but it doesn’t change the fact that I love him.”

“But you said…” He tries, but you interrupt him.

“I know what I said, but it’s over. We’re over. We were over even before we began. I’m with Bradley now and I hope you respect that. I care for you, Jake. We have gone through a lot and I don’t want to see you hurting, but I won’t lie to you either.”

Jake nods, sighing. “You really love him, don’t you?”

“Yeah, Jake. I really love him.”

You saw him swallowing hard, and then he extended his hand to you, palm up. You place his hand in his and Jake pulls you into a hug.

“I won’t say it will be easy to see the two of you together, but I’ll get used to it.”

“Thank you,” You said as you two parted from each other.

“Honey!” Bradley shouts from the door of the bar. You turn your head to look at him and then look back at Jake.

“Go, go to him.”

Smiling sadly at him, you nod, turning around to make your way back to the bar.

“Sweets,” you hear Jake calling you, and then you turn around to look at him. “Take care of yourself.”

“You too, Jake.” You said, walking back to the bar.

Bradley is waiting for you at the door, a worried expression on his face.

“Everything okay?”

He asks and you answer by kissing him.

“Better now.”

Bradley smiles then, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Did you want something?” You ask.

“Yes,” he smiles, “I want to show you something.”

You two enter the bar hand in hand, and as you pass by the jukebox Bradley pulls the plug, making everybody complain. Then he guides you to the old piano, pulling you into his lap and making you squeak in surprise.

“Bradley, what are you doing?” You asked, smiling confusedly.

“Serenading you,” he smiles back, arms sneaking around your waist and reaching towards the keys. “You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain.” The people around you started to cheer and you saw Phoenix and the rest of the squad coming to the both of you.

“Too much love drives a man insane,” Bradley continued and you couldn’t help but smile at him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck for a second.

“You broke my will, but what a thrill”

You saw Jake entering the bar again, watching the scene unfold in front of him, as he gave you a sad smile.

“Goodness gracious, great balls of fire”

Bradley continued his song, his friends around you, and you couldn’t stop yourself from kissing him as the song finished. He smiled into the kiss and asked.

“Did I do alright?”

“You did more than alright.” You answered, kissing him again and hearing the people cheering and asking Bradley to play another song.

“Should I?” He asked, squeezing your waist.

“Yes, yes you should.” You made a move to get up and he pulled you back into his lap.

“You stay right there, Honey.” He said, sneaking his arms around you to start playing another song, and at that moment you realized that there was no other place you’d rather be than in Bradley Bradshaw’s arms.

[sushiwriterhere]

it’s not rotten work (not if it’s you)

summary: Four times you, Jake, and Javy danced around the truth, and the one time you confronted it.  rating: explicit (18+ mdni) pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x f!reader x Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado word count: 4.2k warnings: idiots pining, mmf PiV (unprotected), m/f oral (receiving/giving, face sitting), cockwarming, hangman being hangman, light angst, dacryphilia a bit, mention of violence (stabbing), no use of y/n.  notes: companion fic to my 'a little bit of fun' drabble. thank you to sana and amelia (@laracrofted @theharddeck) for the inspiration! this one's definitely more heavy on the emotion, so please let me know what you think!! tagging: @sebsxphia @sometimesanalice @waklman @joaquinwhorres @gretagerwigsmuse @lewmagoo @genius2050 @seresinsweetie @teacupsandtopgun

one.

Neither Javy nor Jake really reacts when you’re the one to initiate conversation in your group chat.

Bad day. Someone pick me up?

Javy responds with a thumbs up and then a simple-Hangboy’s in the air. See you at 5.

Neither of you speak on the ride to their place; Jake’s usually the one to fill those silences. Javy just places his hand palm side up on the center console and wraps his fingers around yours when you place your hand in his. It’s the sort of companionable silence that stirs feelings you don’t really have the energy to identify.

An hour and a half later you’re settled in Javy’s lap, one of Jake’s old Navy shirts falling loosely around you, Javy’s cock inside you. It brings you a rare type of peace.

He’d made you shower and eat, guiding you through the motions with a tenderness somehow not at odds with his broad shoulders, the military uniform he’d removed when he climbed into the shower with you. You’d talked in low tones over a recipe of his grandmothers’, him coaxing you to tell him about your day. They already had a half-empty pint of your favorite Ben & Jerry’s in the freezer.

He’d undressed you from the waist down the same way he’d dressed you after your shower—gently, slowly, like you were something precious and fragile. You very pointedly did not cry. He took you apart on his tongue once, kneeling between your legs as you melted into the couch.

When he slid into you, your mind finally went quiet.

Javy’s got some game on in the background, the lull of the commentary giving you something to tune out as you drift. He’s solid and warm below you, inside you, a constant like the rate of acceleration due to gravity. Occasionally, he’ll shift or smooth his hand down your back or adjust the blanket that’s draped over you, but otherwise the two of you are still.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been napping til you hear keys in the door. You recognize Jake by footsteps alone, the way his keys jingle as they drop in the bowl by the door, the sound of him sliding his boots off til they land on the floor with a soft thump.

“Hey, thanks for getting her.” Javy nods against you, his chin bumping the top of your head where it’s buried in his chest, “She tell you what happened?”

Javy smooths your hair so his hand comes to rest over the ear not pressed into him, but you hear their conversation anyways, “Boss yelled at her in front of everyone for something that wasn’t actually a mistake. He didn’t apologize.”

The way Jake scoffs is muffled but your mind can picture his face, “I’m gonna give that asshole what’s coming to him one day. I keep telling her to quit. We’ll take care of her while she looks for another job. ”

Javy laughs gently, jostling you despite his best efforts, “And what? Get us dishonorably discharged in the process?”

It makes your chest clench when he says 'us' instead of 'you', as if Javy would be right there alongside him on your behalf. A pause, and Jake says something you don’t catch.

Javy’s response gets drowned out by the buzzer sound from the game, by the way his hand is still covering your ear. You only catch “never agree”.

Jake is apparently unsatisfied with Javy's answer because you can hear it in the way he leaves the room. You drift off again.

The next time you come to, it's because your dream had you squirming in Javy's lap, reminding you of how he still had you nestled on his cock. Then, there's a kiss being pressed to your forehead. You open your eyes to see Jake’s face in front of you, his hair dripping wet onto his shoulders.

"Hey baby," He murmurs before pressing your lips together.

It's heated, it's possessive, like he's trying to convey everything he feels he's unable to say through the way he licks into your mouth. Javy grabs the back of his neck so he can peck Jake, the kiss so chaste in comparison to the way Jake was just devouring you. It warms you beyond just the way Javy's body heat does.

They've been doing that more often, like they're discovering something beyond years of longing, beyond years of ribbing on each other to try and relieve what they didn't realize was sexual tension.

When you three finally make it to Javy’s bedroom, they take you apart the way they always do. But somehow, it’s infinitely more tender.

Javy fucks you first, rocking into you as you sprawl on his king size mattress. Jake’s there the entire time, kissing away your tears and petting over your stomach to press down on your lower abdomen.

Neither of them stops talking the entire time.

“So beautiful and smart, our girl—”

“I can feel Javy in you baby, you’re taking him so well—”

“God where would we be without you—”

You sob as you cum for the second time that evening, and Javy fucks you through it all. You’re so overwhelmed by the way their words wash over you like the sun on a summer day. The baritone of Javy’s voice murmuring “our girl” rattles around your mind til he finishes inside you.

Then it’s Jake’s turn. He’s just as, if not more, gentle than Javy.

Javy slips off the bed to go clean himself up. When he rejoins the two of you, Jake is already so close. He pulls out at the last minute, fisting his cock til he finishes on your stomach and chest, a punched out moan leaving him.

It’ll never cease to amaze you the way they manage to make you finish with such ease as Jake’s fingers find your clit and he plasters himself all over you so he can kiss you. It should be gross, the way his cum makes him slide a bit against you, but it grounds you instead. You can feel where the mix of you, Jake, and Javy is running down your thigh.

You’ve got Javy’s hand in a vice grip. They’re here, they’re real.

When it’s all said and done, Jake appears with a wet washcloth to wipe down your forehead, between your legs. Eventually, he carries you to the bathroom so you can pee and brush your teeth (“Javy got to carry you earlier while he was inside you, mind you, so it’s my turn.”).

Laying between them, you start to feel human again. You have half a mind to ask what they were bickering about earlier, but sleep is dragging you under before you can act on it.

two.

Jake's been irritating you all night. He begged you to come to the Hard Deck, claiming lonely since Javy was out of town for the weekend, some trip to DC neither of them wanted to discuss.

Distantly, you know this is how he shows affection. Like a teen boy, he’s poking and prodding at you. In between his turns at pool, he’s pulling you into his arms, grabbing at your waist, yanking on the ends of your hair. Something about Jake just requires he’s touching you at all times when you’re within his general proximity.

Natasha sets a beer down in front of you, before settling in across from you, “I don’t know how you put up with it.”

Your thing with Jake and Javy isn’t exactly a secret, but no one addresses it. It’s just sort of, there. The rest of the Dagger Squad seems to have just accepted the dynamic, brought you into the fold.

“Put up with him?” You nod at Jake, who’s trying to show Rooster some pool move that apparently requires one leg on the table. The tension between the two of them has eased considerably these days.

She laughs, “Either of them really, Hangman and Coyote. They feed off each other’s energy in the worst way sometimes, I think I’d go crazy.”

You’re silent, trying to figure out a way to respond. The three of you haven’t defined what this is, haven’t talked ‘feelings’, despite the amount of time you spend at their place, the way your days are filled with each other. You’re not sure how to explain that it just works somehow—on the outside it might seem like you lean into Javy more, but the reality is more complicated.

Jake and Javy are bonded by years in the Navy, nothing quite like constant near-death experiences to foster love. They do feed off each other, but in the way that they’re so familiar they’re almost one. Javy does steady you—but he also riles you up like no one else. Jake brings out the livelier side of you, but he’s also fiercely and openly protective of you.

You're stubborn and unmoving where Jake goes with the flow. You're snarky and sarcastic where Javy is calm, at ease. It just works.

Natasha just looks at you expectantly, and you shrug. Unsure of what to say.

You settle on, "They do drive me crazy, but I think I'm not totally gone yet."

Her laugh echoes above the background noise of the bar.

Back at the guys’ shared apartment, you fuck Jake slowly, keeping your lips pressed together. You whine into his mouth when he hitches your thigh up on his bicep, the position hitting something inside of you just right.

In that moment, he doesn't comment on the change of pace from your usual, more intense sex—he leans into it. He presses his lips to your forehead, then leans his against yours. His grip on your hip and thigh aren't as bruising as they usually are, they’re more grounding.

Jake always talks during sex, never shuts up. This time, he’s whispering more than anything else, and you can’t understand him. You want to ask but the way he’s fucking into you makes you lose all ability to speak.

When you finish, you keen and arch your back as Jake licks a stripe up the side of your neck. You shudder as he cums right after you. The two of you lay there for just a moment, taking deep breaths.

Jake presses his lips to your forehead one more time before pulling out and sitting up, "You wanna talk about it?"

Of course he noticed something was up–that's just who he is. A hurricane of a man, but still attentive to every little detail.

You consider him for a moment, his naked form, completely at ease with your eyes roaming over his body. You think of telling him about your conversation with Natasha, about the way it had made you think through the three of you. Instead, you shake your head and curl onto your side, and wait for him to get back into bed.

three.

Surprisingly, it’s Javy’s who’s been pushing you. Jake’s been hesitant to open his mouth on the subject, but you don’t miss the way he perks up slightly when you and Javy start getting into it again.

“I have a perfectly good apartment of my own, Javy!” It’s repetitive, like a swing dance, at this point. “I don’t get why you want me to move in.”

“Sweetheart, if you’d listen to me, you’d ‘get why’. You live in a bad area of town, and I’m laying awake every night worrying about whether to expect a phone call from the nearby hospital.”

Jake focuses intently on the crossword he’s pretending to do as you and Javy both stare at him expectantly. The last time he’d voiced his opinion, you’d threatened to call his mother and tell her he was trying to tell you what to do. Theoretically, he knows she’d be on his and Javy’s side, but he doesn’t feel like dealing with that.

(You haven’t threatened Javy in the same way, and he wonders if it’s because his mom is the only woman in this situation with a more stubborn disposition than you. Maybe it’s just because it’s Javy.)

"Well, maybe you should worry less." You snark. Javy doesn't respond and Jake can hear the way his eyebrow raises.

“Seventeen across, 'unconcerned',” Jake half mumbles to himself, half trying to break at least some of the tension.

“Perfunctory,” you snap at him from where you’re glaring at Javy, because of course you know.

"That's not an option, sweetheart." Javy's using the tone that says his decision is final, that he won't change his mind–it's one that you fucking hate.

Jake barely manages to stand up to intercept you when you turn around and head for the door, sans any of your possessions but your phone. He wraps his arms around you and refuses to release you despite the way you squirm indignantly in his hold.

He eases his grip just enough so he can lean down to whisper in your ear, "Baby, at least consider it?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Jake sees the way Javy just stares at the two of you. His expression is nearing anguish, and Jake gets it. The way you pull back every time they try to bring you closer feels like ripping barbs out of their skin. The emotional pain is so intense it rivals physical.

It’s not entirely about safety this time, not really.

"He's being a dick." You murmur, finally acquiescing and wrapping your arms around Jake's torso.

"We're not trying to control you babe, we want you here. He just maybe should've led with that. We want you to be safe." A little good cop, bad cop. Sorry, Javy.

To his surprise, you just say, "I know."

There's no fight left in any of you. Not since someone got stabbed outside your apartment building a month ago and the three of you, well, you and Javy, have been arguing non stop about it.

You just want it to stop—the tension every time you leave their apartment for work, the shared knowing that you won’t necessarily return. Jake clearly is getting sick of the arguing and you and Javy aren’t any less exhausted.

Turning around in Jake’s arms you look at Javy, “You—You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Javy’s in front of you in an instance, taking your face in his hands and kissing you fiercely, “I’m sorry, too. We care about you, we want you to be safe.”

There’s much left unsaid, but in that moment, all the words spoken are more than enough.

four.

When you wake up, you're alone in bed. You vaguely remember Jake getting up in the middle of the night and him and Javy talking in low tones as Jake got dressed. He kissed you goodbye and promised to come home safe. Javy had gotten back in bed.

The curtains let the gray of the morning light leak into the room, washing everything in a sort of hazy filter. There's clanking from the kitchen, but for just a moment, you let yourself lay there, absorbing the moment. The sheets still smell like that combination of Jake and Javy that lulls you to sleep every night.

For a second, you're overcome by a fear that one day you'll turn to your right and you won't be able to bury your nose into the pillow and smell Jake. He's only gone for the weekend, but it's that part of you that rears its head every time one of them leaves. Every deployment, every work trip they're not allowed to discuss, every morning they leave for training.

The bed dips next to you as Javy climbs in–you hadn't noticed him come back into the room. He smells like sweat just a bit, and you giggle sleepily when his fingers ghost up your ribs.

"Get out of the bed, Javy, you're sweaty," You groan, turning away from him as he drags you backward into his chest.

"Really," He laughs, "You didn't mind so much last night."

Despite your protests, you snuggle back into him, feeling the way his workout shirt slides against your bare skin. It's the sort of closeness that isn't just physical—it's about knowing your partners' boundaries, about knowing that they don't actually mind that you just came from the gym and then climbed right into bed. The sheets need to be changed anyways.

Javy kisses right below your ear and you hum happily. His lips ghost over your cheek but don't reach your lips.

"Go shower," You murmur as you turn around to kiss him.

He doesn't respond. He can't–not with the way you're flush against him, only wearing a pair of boxers where he’s only in a shirt. Not with the way you lick into his mouth lazily, humming when you taste the juice he drank. Not with the way your hands run down his stomach and grab clumsily at his hardening cock.

If you weren't awake before, you sure are now–especially with the way Javy's warm and calloused hands skim your nipples and lift your leg to hitch over his hip.

He rolls the two of you so his weight is pressing you into the mattress. There’s something so distinctly soothing about the position, the way he’s warm and heavy and everywhere on you. You move your hips in a steady rhythm against his.

When his hands find their way into the pair of boxers you stole from Jake, he finds you already soaking. You can feel the way he smiles smugly against your mouth. That just won’t do.

Shoving at his shoulder, he lets you turn the two of you over again. You kiss his neck, working your way down his body. Making a show of wrinkling your nose at his shirt, he yanks it off in one fluid, yet desperate, motion.

The instant you wrap your lips around him, his hands are in your hair.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re—”

He doesn’t get to finish his thought, not when you slide your mouth down the length of him, fighting your gag reflex at the way he nudges the back of your throat. There’s something so sensual about the way your nose almost brushes the curls at the base of him.

“Shit, shit, Jesus,” This is the way you like Javy best, all his boundaries down, just letting himself feel, “Your mouth is so fucking good, god, how do you—ugh, fuck!”

You’re pulling out every trick in the book. You fist the base of his cock in tight grip and let your spit ease the twist of your wrist. He shudders when you pull your mouth off him to lazily tongue at the sensitive spot at the underside of the head.

You know he’s getting close when his hips start thrusting, despite the way he usually holds himself back. The groan he lets out when he comes down your throat is guttural.

“You’re a menace,” He gasps out, and the glaze of his eyes is so familiar, so welcomed in the way that it makes your chest clench with pride and something else.

“You didn’t seem to mind just now,” Reflecting his words back at him before you make a show of swallowing deeply.

He drags you up his body while tugging off the boxers, “I mind because I wanted to fuck you.”

You giggle at the way he fakes his frustration, but you’re cut off when he lifts you up and over him til you land on his face. His strength never fails to stun you.

Javy settles you directly on his face. There’s still a part of you that feels overly exposed in the position but he wastes no time. He licks into you without reserve, burying his tongue in you and closing his eyes and humming in satisfaction.

Javy knows your body through and through—he knows what makes you gasp, what makes you moan, how he can drag this out or rush to the edge. This time, he’s savoring the moment, bordering on torture. His tongue is slow, purposeful, as it circles your clit and fucks into you slowly.

You can hear the way you’re whining as if you’re outside of your body. Your voice sounds foreign even as you beg Javy please, please, fuck right there, please don’t stop, please.

When you come you slam your hand on the headboard and moan something deep in your chest. Javy smooths his hands over your waist and ass as you come down, shaking slightly. He slides you off him and down the bed til the two of you are face to face again.

You think he might be murmuring something as he presses your lips together, again and again, but you can’t quite make it out.

plus one.

The Hard Deck seems so far away from here, where you and Javy are sitting on the beach behind it. Jake's only a few feet away, inside getting the three of you a round of beers. The noise of the crowd celebrating the end of another week is dim and distant.

You and Javy are sitting side by side, just barely touching. The heat radiating off him is unreal, as always. The two of you are talking about Jake and Javy's families, having drifted to the subject after recalling the way Jake's mom had squealed at the sight of you when she'd FaceTimed earlier in the day. His mom absolutely loves you.

He shrugs, “Momma and Amy knew about Jake and I before we did. I brought you up once and they figured it out.”

That surprises you. You knew Javy's mom and Jake's mom were perceptive, yet open, women, but you hadn't expected this—them seeing not just Jake and Javy for what they were, but the three of you, too.

You lean into him, snuggling close, "What did they say?"

He presses a kiss to your hair before answering, his words muffled with the way his lips move against your skin, "They said you had to be one hell of a woman to put up with us."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" You pull back from him, and shock paints his features.

He laughs, a bit uneasily, "Who else is saying that?"

"I'm not 'putting up with you', I love you, I love Jake, I love you both." You push yourself to standing, unexpectedly frustrated. The sweetness of the moment seems acidic now. It eats at you.

This was hard enough for you to accept. Hard enough to rationalize, to try and understand what it meant that marriage certificates were for two names, that it was 'partners' and 'couples', that the world generally worked in twos. That's enough to try and deal with–much less with those closest to you pointing out how difficult it must be for you.

Javy can't even savor the fact that you've just said you love him, that you love Jake–not when your lower lip is wobbling and your chest is starting to heave in that way when you cry.

"Hey, hey," Javy's voice is steadying, as he stands next to you and takes your hands, "Look at me. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry."

It didn't even register to you that you're crying, but you feel it now. The telltale itch in your nose, the way your throat feels tight, your eyes watering. You rip one of your hands from his to wipe at your face messily.

"Woah, woah, what's going on?" Jake materializes next to you, the three beer cans dropping in the sand, forgotten in the instant he saw you crying.

"Everyone keeps trying to tell me it must be hard for me to love you, and it's not." Jake's mouth only drops a bit when you say love, an admittedly muted reaction in comparison to what you'd been expecting.

"I mean–" Jake starts, but he stops when Javy shoots him a look over your head. It's not the time for jokes.

He tries again, "We fought with you for a month to try and get you to move in with us, it's not hard for us to love you at all either."

For some reason, that just makes you cry harder as they pull you into them, "I didn't fight with you, I fought with Javy."

At that, the two men can't resist bursting into laughter.

"I'm-I'm sorry, sweetheart," Javy says as his laughter dies down, "We're not laughing at you."

You wipe at your tears hastily and giggle just a bit, "It is kind of funny."

“You love us?” Jake’s smile is cheeky, as much as it can be when he feels like you’ve split his chest open with your bare hands and are now holding his fluttering heart in your palms.

Fighting the urge to run or lie, you simply nod, “Unfortunately.”

Old habits die hard.

Later that night, when you’re pressed up against Jake’s chest with Javy at your back, they chant the words to you like a sacred prayer. They say it while they take you apart with their fingers, their tongues.

Jake says it in the way he curls his fingers inside of you, searching for the spot that makes your back arch and your thighs try to squeeze together. Javy says it in the way he inches ever so slowly into you, in the way that he tilts your hips so he can fuck your just so.

You say it in the way you trust them to see you so vulnerable, tears streaming down your face in pleasure, eyes rolled back. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

[mitchellpete]

Kinktober Day 18 - Mirror sex

pairing: pete “maverick” mitchell x f!reader

cw: age gap, set during top gun: maverick, handjobs, penetration, dirty talk

word count: 1587

kinktober masterlist here.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

-

You awoke from your nap a few hours after dozing off on the couch. The sun had gone down in the midst of your slumber, moonlight pooling in through the window. There was a blanket draped over you now, one that you had not initially fallen asleep with. It smelled like fabric softener, the same one you used on Maverick’s clothes. Your half-lidded, sleepy eyes jolt open at the realization that he was home. 

After stretching the knots in your body—the couch really isn’t too comfy for naps—you swing your legs over the side and immediately skip down the hall towards your bedroom. The house is quiet and chilly. You’re not sure what time it is, but you fully expect Maverick to be in bed, or settling down at least. 

In your bedroom, Maverick is sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to you. 

Unable to contain your excitement after a long day without him, you exclaim, “Baby!”

He turns to look at you, a smile spreading on his face as you practically run and throw yourself at him from behind. You press your chest to his back, wrapping your arms around his frame. They settle on his chest, warm and damp from a shower. Your face peaks from behind his shoulders to meet him for a long-awaited kiss. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” he mumbles against your lips, his smile still spread wide.

You pull back, aiming your kisses at his face instead. “When’d you get home?” 

He blinks slowly, enjoying your kisses. “About half an hour ago. I had a busy day.”

The corner of his mouth, his chin, the underside of his jaw. Firm, but soft underneath your lips. “Mm? What’d you do?”

“Beach day with the kids,” he sighs. “Dogfight football.”

You pull back, cocking a brow. “Dogfight football?”

He nods, smiling hazily. “Offense and defense at the same time.”

You snicker, staring at his tired face. You give him a few more kisses, this time to his lips, deep and passionate. “I wish I was one of your students.”

“Mm.. I don’t,” he murmurs, amused. “I felt like an old man today. Had to sit and let them take over after a while.”

It’s when you glance up and find yourself face-to-face with your reflections that you get the idea. The mirror facing the bed gives you a clear cut view of the bottom half of Maverick’s body, clad in nothing but a towel from his shower. 

“An old man, huh?” Your hands run up and down his pecs, massaging his skin. 

Maverick leans back, relaxing against your body. Staring at yourself in the mirror, at the way your hands roam on his chest, excites something deep in your stomach. Your lips move to his shoulders, his skin golden from being out in the sun all day. You want him to see it too.

You let your hands roam further, fingers trailing down his abs. He jerks slightly when they prod inside the towel, pushing inside and ghosting over his hip bones. He lets out a little moan at your touch, sold. You grin. 

Maverick chuckles at your eager hands, letting you unfold the towel from around his waist. The fabric falls, exposing his cock, soft against his thigh. He looks down, helps you move the towel out of the way before you stop him. 

“No—” You swat his hands away and then reach for his face, directing it towards the mirror. “I’ll take care of you. Just look.”

He does as he’s told, staring right at his reflection. He breathes out sharply when you reach down to take his cock in your fist. You lean your chin against his shoulder, watching yourself along with him.

Maverick looks almost shy—eyes dancing from you to your hand, to the bewildered look on his face. His expression is even more priceless when you lean over his shoulder to let a bit of spit drip down, coating the tip just enough to smoothen your movements. Moving your thumb over his slit, he groans softly as you spread your spit all over the flushed head. When his cock begins to harden in your fist, your palm moves south, loosely gripping his shaft in shallow up and down strokes. You watch his face, his lips parted, his lashes heavy on his eyes as he feels the waves of pleasure jolting through him. 

You add more pressure the more noises he makes, strokes quickening more and more. You watch him through the mirror, how his body jerks and how he’s trying very hard to keep his hips still. You continue pressing kisses to his shoulder, trailing up until your teeth graze his ear. He shudders, breathlessly moaning out your name.

It’s incredibly arousing to watch him come apart under your touch. He attempts to continue looking at you, though it’s difficult as he nears his orgasm, his eyes lidded in a daze. 

“Look at me,” you whisper. Your wrist is slightly strained but it’s all or nothing now; his eyes flick to you again and it’s then that you stroke furiously, pace hard and quick. He chokes out a moan, watching his cum spurt out against his stomach just a minute later.

You press an open-mouthed kiss to his cheek, and then another on his jaw, biting slightly on the skin underneath his jawline. He shudders again, body nearly going slack from the quick and sudden orgasm. 

You get another idea, pulling off of him and off the bed to strip yourself of your clothes. Panting, Maverick watches.

When you’re fully bare, you sink to your knees—your back to him—and immediately crouch down in front of the mirror. The rug digs at your knees but you try your best to arch for him, ass up. You watch through the mirror as he sinks to the floor with you, kneeling in your direction. Warm hands meet your ass and slide up around your waist. Making eye contact with you through the glass, he coats his fingers in enough saliva to easily rub you up and down. You’re so turned on that you’re sure you don’t need much prep, your walls already clenching around nothing. His fingers slide through your folds, your cunt growing slippery in arousal.

Only half-hard again, he strokes himself a couple times with the slick he’s gathered, hissing at the sensations.

When he slowly slips his cock inside, he forgets to keep looking at you. His eyebrows pulled together in white hot bliss, he looks down and watches as it disappears inside of you inch by inch. You allow him that momentarily, watching his face contort beautifully at the tight heat of your body. 

When he’s fully situated inside of you, his hips pressed to your ass, you remind him, “Baby, look at me.”

He groans, low in the back of his throat, and raises his head to meet your eyes through the glass again. 

You bite your lip, in awe at the picture in front of you. Maverick looks flushed, his muscles defined in the dim lighting, jaw clenched as the pleasure courses through his body. Best of all, there’s a look in his eye, one that reads of total submission. He’s all yours; he’s doing this for you. You should tell him how pretty he looks. 

Feeling full makes it hard to speak. You wait for him to move, but it seems he’s taking it in, soaking up how good it feels to just rock shallowly like that inside of you, your walls adjusting around him. 

“Fuck,” you whine. “You’re so pretty, you know that?”

He groans again, his cheeks turning crimson at your words, the heat licking up his ears. “Oh, sweetheart.”

He starts moving, pays no mind to the slight oversensitivity from cumming just a couple minutes prior, and fucks you through it. His strokes are sloppy and messy, aiming for another quick orgasm but really just getting to watch you unfold in front of him too. You’re biting your lip, the sense of self-awareness slightly intimidating. You watch as your body rocks against his, his hips slamming against yours and rutting your knees forward on the carpet ever so slightly with each thrust. It burns, but the pleasure inside of you feels bigger and better, his stare edging you on quicker than you can process.

“Oh, fuck—Pete,” you whine out, “Fucking—look at you.”

He tries to keep his composure, bites down hard on his bottom lip in an attempt to stifle his noises until you start to rock your hips back to meet his thrusts. You watch his face, how close to the edge he gets every time your hips slam together.

Neither of you last very long; you hadn’t realized just how dizzying it is to look at everything unfolding in front of you. Maverick’s second orgasm hits him hard, and you watch as he pulls out and falls back against the edge of the bed in a heap of moans and curses, stroking every bit of cum out against his thigh (and the floor, you realize). Moaning through your own collapse, your knees give out from the rug burn. You curl up on the floor for a second, letting the sensation course through you, but Maverick reaches for you with a strong arm. He pulls you to him, your body eagerly sinking into his. 

You laugh together, still in front of the mirror. Completely disheveled now, Maverick in need of another shower. You’re glad you get to join this one.

[the-authoress-writes]

Up Where We Belong

Part One

Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x Writer!reader

Synopsis: When a writer experiencing horrible writer’s block goes to the Apple Valley Airshow for inspiration, she meets a certain older, daring naval aviator, leading to maybe a little more than just inspiration.

Warnings: Mentions of hospice and family member deaths, age gap (reader is in their late thirties to early forties).

But really, this is just fluff.

Author’s Note: The plot bunnies have reproduced at an unholy rate, and I am so stupid for writing this, especially since I have another chapter of “Wherever You Go”, to write, the first chapter of “Safe and Sound” and a MavDad story to finish.

The second part and another Mav story is lined up, but at this point, I’m not going to complain, because at least I’m writing, and Mav is finally getting more of my writerly attention.

We’ll see what gets finished next, 😂.

#writerlife

Again, I name a story after a song, from another movie about the Navy, funnily enough.

(Only three of my stories on my masterlist are not named after songs—I can’t stop, apparently)

So here we go!

She had always been somewhat interested in planes—it was hard not to be, when most of her family was in commercial aviation.

Her father had flown for nearly thirty years for American, her younger brother was currently a first officer coming up on his command upgrade with Delta, and her grandfather, whom she affectionately called PopPop, had flown for Continental.

Some of her fondest memories were looking over her grandfather’s maps and airport diagrams, and sitting on his lap while he taught her how to use an analog flight computer.

But one day, when she was home from her freshman year of college, where she was taking her degree in English, her grandfather took her up to the attic to show her something.

It was a footlocker from World War II, the faded paint on the outside reading “USAAF”.

“This was your granduncle Joseph’s—my eldest brother.

He was a P-51 pilot.

He ran many successful missions in his aircraft until he got shot down saving his wingman’s life, near the end of the war.”

PopPop opened the footlocker, revealing a faded American flag folded into a tricorn lying neatly atop several dark greenish-brown uniforms.

PopPop gently lifted the flag and uniforms out of the footlocker, uncovering yellowed, brittle-looking maps, a compass set, and a thick stack of letters, tied together with a black ribbon.

It was the stack of letters that PopPop lifted out, and held out to her. “Look at these, and read them.”

She did, and the story the letters contained was beautiful and heartbreaking.

Her granduncle had fallen in love with a woman who was a member of the French Resistance, named Céline, whom he’d met during a covert resupply mission, and they even had plans to marry after the war.

But she’d died in a skirmish with German soldiers in Paris, leaving him so bereft that he’d taken to writing letters to her specter, just to have an outlet for his grief.

The last letter in the pile was heartwrenching, where her granduncle Joseph talked about how he was only living because she would want him to, only being careful in the air because she’d want him to.

She’d cried reading the letters, and she’d asked PopPop why he’d wanted her to read the letters.

“I wanted someone else to know their story,” he’d simply replied.

“No one else knows?”

He hummed, considering his answer. “Sometimes you keep some things to yourself until the right person to tell comes along.”

A few years passed, and when PopPop was on hospice, the two of them were watching “Band of Brothers”, when she remembered Uncle Joe, as she’d taken to calling him in her head.

“What’s going on in that bright head of yours, darling?” PopPop’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Oh, uh, nothing much, I was just remembering Uncle Joe.

Thinking that he and Céline deserved better.”

“They did.”

She shook her head, “I wish I could write them a happier ending, you know?”

PopPop hummed weakly. “Well, why don’t you?

If anyone could do it, it would be you.

If you do that, I’m sure in a few years, those English professors of yours would be saying that they taught a great American author.”

She was shocked and touched. “Wha—I—well, I guess I could, but, are—y-you’d be okay with that, PopPop?”

He laid a cold hand on hers, “I wouldn’t trust it to anyone else, my dear girl.”

“Okay,” she smiled tearily, and nodded, the two of them returning their attention to the episode.

A week later, PopPop passed, and many things happened over the ensuing years that caused the idea of writing about Uncle Joe to be put on the back burner.

In fact, she forgot all about it, until she was sitting on her couch a couple of weeks after having been let go from her job as an English teacher at her local high school.

She was mindlessly watching an episode of some show she couldn’t even remember the name of, when her eyes landed on the footlocker which PopPop had given to her in his will.

The memory of PopPop encouraging her to write about Uncle Joe came back to her, and she paused the episode, strode over to the footlocker, carefully opened it, and drew out the letters.

Madly, over the course of the next several hours, she reread the letters, numerous research-related tabs quickly opening up on her phone, tablet, and laptop.

As months passed, she made good progress on her first draft, but somewhere along the way, about slightly less than halfway through her intended story beats, she hit the dreaded dead end, writer’s block in full force.

Rereading the letters did nothing—every line she wrote, she deleted; she felt lost, and like she’d completely lost Uncle Joe and Céline’s voices.

She felt right back at square one.

Then, one day, as she was looking at her brother’s latest Facebook reel from his layover in Korea, she saw an advertisement for the Apple Valley Airshow, which would feature an aerobatic demonstration with an actual, airworthy P-51.

Maybe seeing the aircraft her Uncle flew would shake something loose in her brain so she could move forward.

She didn’t even hesitate—she immediately booked a ticket, and prepared herself to take down a lot of notes.

The airshow was absolutely wonderful, and even though she never got as into aviation as the rest of her family, it was still something which fascinated her, and seeing the planes made her marvel all over again at the miracle that was aviation, how humankind had successfully taken the skies for itself through brutally elegant means.

Finally, it was time for the reason she’d come—the emcee began, “Now, everyone, you’re all in for a treat, because up next, we have a nearly eighty-year-old aircraft, a P-51K named Bianca, and she’ll be giving us an aerobatic demonstration!

So let’s give a warm Apple Valley Airshow welcome to Bianca and her owner and pilot, US Navy Captain Pete Mitchell!”

She clapped along with everyone else, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the P-51.

Soon, the sound of a propeller engine grew louder and louder, and then, there she was.

Bianca was gorgeous, gleaming silver with red markings, the American star roundel on her side.

The shining aircraft got closer and closer to the ground, towards the crowd, and just as she was about to worry that the P-51 was in an upset condition, the plane pulled up slightly, buzzing the transfixed people.

Laughing in awe and delight, she clapped with everyone, and watched as the daring pilot put the plane through a series of hair-raising spirals, rolls, dives, and elegant, breathtaking passes with such precision, skill, and ease, just knowing that whoever was flying that old girl had aviation in his blood as surely as it ran in hers; it made her wonder what her granduncle would say about how the venerable fighter was being flown.

Before she knew it, the demonstration was over, and with another low pass and wing wave, the P-51 flew off to land.

It actually took her a moment to come back to herself, she was so stunned by what she saw, and she knew she had to see Bianca up close.

After asking for directions to the flight line, she scanned the row of planes, eventually spying a flash of red.

She walked over, catching sight of a tall, mustached man a few years younger than her, standing in front of the aircraft, wearing a borderline-obnoxiously-loud Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned over a white tank and jeans, stereotypical Ray-Bans pushed up onto his head.

“Excuse me?”

“Yes?” the man replied.

“Is this the P-51 which flew a few minutes ago?

She is a P-51, right?”

“That’d be a yes to both questions, ma’am.”

She chuckled grimly at the idea that her age was maybe showing enough for her to be ma’am-ed by someone only a few years younger than her. “Are you the owner?”

He scoffed, good-naturedly. “Nah, that’ll be my dad.

Hey Dad, someone wants to talk to you!”

A moment later, a man stepped out from under the P-51, and she’d absolutely be lying if she said her breath didn’t catch.

First off, if she had to guess, he was older than her, but there was something about him which made him seem younger than his age.

Then there was the fact that he was absurdly good looking—ridiculously so, in fact; impossibly raven-dark hair, mischievously sparkling, brilliant green eyes, and a physique that people half her age would kill for, all sinewy muscle, visible with the snug white t-shirt and jeans he was wearing.

The final nail in the proverbial coffin was his smile—God, it belonged in a museum, because it was a work of art, and coupled with his roguish air, everything about him screamed the most delicious kind of trouble, sending echoes of Whoopi Goldberg’s voice saying, “You in danger, girl,” through her head.

“Hi,” he began, extending his hand.

Luckily for her, she was quick on the draw, and extended her own hand, proffering a “Hi,” of her own, though she kicked herself at the fact that the next words out of her mouth were, “Are you the owner?”

Oh, well—couldn’t win them all.

His grip was firm and calloused, but gentle, without the cool metal band she expected on his fourth finger, quick eyes observing the lack of even a pale band of skin on the same finger, and she shook herself from the observation in time to hear his, “That’s me—Pete Mitchell, you can call me Mav.”

At her quizzical look, he continued, “It’s short for my callsign, Maverick—I’m Navy.”

She nodded, “The emcee did say you were Navy, and that tracks; judging from that impressive demonstration, you don’t strike me as the kind who blends in.”

“Thank you—I aim to please,” he grinned.

Miraculously, she managed to ignore his brilliant, beautiful smile, somehow mustering a “Well, you certainly delivered,” before she introduced herself.

A cough from the younger man, Pete’s son, made her realize that she hadn’t let go of Pete’s hand, and vice versa, which caused the two of them to practically spring apart.

“Oh, uh, this is my son, Bradley,” Pete introduced the younger man, reaching nearly comically up to wrap an arm around Bradley’s shoulders.

“Nice to meet you, Bradley,” she replied, trying to recollect herself while her mind acted like it was the first time she’d interacted with a good-looking man.

“Nice to meet you too, ma’am.”

“I look that bad, do I?” she chuckled.

“Just the way he was raised,” Pete proudly said, patting his son on the back.

Embarrassingly, she just then remembered the reason she was here. “Oh, I—I actually had a few questions for you, Pete, about the P-51, because I’m writing a book, and I wanted to get some details.”

His eyes lit up. “Details about this old girl, huh?

I can do that; come on, let me show you around.” He moved to the side of the aircraft and gestured grandly. “Bianca here’s a Dallas-built North American P-51K, with a Packard V-1650-7 engine and an 11 foot diameter Aeroproducts propeller.

She was donated to the Civil Air Patrol in 1946, and I acquired her in 2001.

I’m not sure if she ever saw combat, because her military flight logs were lost, but I know for a fact that she routinely patrolled the California skies way back when.

Let me show you the controls.”

He nimbly boosted himself up to the wing and held his hand out to her. “Come on up.”

“Uh, is this a wise decision?” she asked, glancing between his hand and the wing. “She is nearly eighty-years-old.”

Pete laughed, “She’s stronger than she looks, and these girls were made to withstand this sort of thing, come on.”

Deciding to trust his judgment, she took his hand and jumped up to the wing at the same time as he pulled her up, causing extra momentum which propelled her body into his.

He caught them on the edge of the cockpit, and after a second, she realized that she was pressed up against his body, both hands resting against his…very solid chest.

She prayed that her suddenly pounding heart and the burning flush on her cheeks could be discounted as a reaction to her stumble.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathed, scrambling back to put some distance between them for her sanity’s sake, while trying not to fall off either wing edge.

“Eh,” he waved off, “that’s my fault, I should have said I’d pull you up,” as he shifted to kneel on the wing. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied breezily, “I believe you were about to show me the controls?”

“Mm-hmm, come here.”

They slowly adjusted themselves into a configuration that enabled them both to see into the cockpit, and he pointed out the many gauges—explaining each one—and the literal stick stick, which looked nothing like the controls of any aircraft she’d seen in person or in the movies, as well as her general flight capabilities and technical specifications.

A further glance to the right showed something she didn’t expect to see. “I thought the P-51 was a single seat aircraft?”

Pete absentmindedly rubbed the back of his neck, “They are—I made a… few modifications.”

“Oh.”

“You want to sit in her?” he offered, gesturing to the pilot’s seat.

She was not about to pass up an opportunity like that. “I—wh—sure!”

He carefully helped her into the cockpit, and once settled, she breathed in and out while she absorbed this moment, and imagined her granduncle sitting in a seat similar to this one, looking out at the boundless sky. “Wow,” she reverently murmured.

“I know, right?”

“This is amazing, that aircraft like this is still around and still flying, I mean—this is history,” she said, getting slightly emotional.

“It is; she is.”

After a few beats longer, she sighed, and reached for his hand so she could get out, and he carefully eased her out of the cockpit, onto the wing, then both of them back onto the ground.

“Thank you, for showing me around, this was really helpful, Pete, I think this really helped me.”

“You’re welcome,” he nodded easily. “If I may ask, what kind of book are you writing?”

For the briefest second, she instinctively recoiled from the idea of telling the story, but then, some part of her heart said that Pete Mitchell was someone she could tell this story to. “It’s uh, a fictional version of my granduncle Joe’s love story; he was a P-51 pilot during World War II, and he was in love with a woman in the French Resistance named Céline.” She turned to look at Bianca’s gleaming fuselage. “But they both died in the war; she was killed by the Germans, and he got shot down saving his wingman soon after.

I never even knew until my first year of college, when my grandfather told me the story through the love letters my granduncle and Céline wrote.

When my grandfather was dying, I told him that I wished they had a happy ending, and… well, he told me to write it for them, since I was an English major.

So here I am,” she shrugged, turning to face Pete.

He looked grave and touched. “That’s… that’s beautiful.”

“Thank you, I have to admit, I’ve wondered if what I was doing was disrespectful.”

“I know quite a few people who deserved happy endings that didn’t get them,” he glanced into the distance, a wistful, pained look in his eyes. “If I can help at least two people who didn’t have their happy endings in this world get it somehow, I’m more than willing to help.”

She sincerely replied, “Thank you for the validation,” wondering what his story was.

“You’re welcome.

And uh… you know what?

Gimme a second.”

He leapt back onto the P-51’s wing, and rummaged through the cockpit, pulling out a flight log book and a pen, hastily writing something on a page, before he tore it out, and leapt back down.

“Here, it’s my number—if you had any more questions, feel free to call, I’d be happy to answer them.”

If she had been placed in a similar situation as this maybe twenty years ago, she’d have probably done something to embarrass herself, because this—things like this didn’t happen to her—they only happened in movies, but here she was.

He gave her his number—yes, it was if she had any research questions, but still.

‘Get a grip, woman, just because you didn’t see a ring doesn’t mean he isn’t in a relationship,’ she told herself, trying to project “Respectable Professional Woman”, while her inner adolescent was trying its level best to come out.

“Th—thank you,” she managed to get out, with only a minute stammer on the first syllable.

“I’m serious, call if you need anything—I mean—there’s not a lot of people out there who can tell you what it’s like to actually fly one of these beauties.”

“Be careful,” she chuckled, already determined not to call unless it was absolutely dire, “You don’t know if I might take you up on that offer.”

“It’s what I gave you my number for,” Pete winked, and she commended herself for keeping it together.

Deciding to quit while she was ahead, and while she still seemed like a normal human being, she came in for final approach, as her dad would put it, with, “Alright—I better go, I’ve already taken too much of your time.”

“It’s fine, it’s always a pleasure to talk to someone about this girl.”

“Thank you again,” she stated, honestly grateful, feeling the creative juices flowing and simmering in the background.

“You’re welcome.”

And with that, she walked away, exhaling evenly for so many reasons.

That night, she wrote and wrote just as she expected, and the story was flowing.

That is, until she hit another wall just before the next weekend.

And this one was even more stubborn than the first.

It didn’t help that she had written herself into a corner with this dogfight scene she was on—she had no way of knowing if the tactics were sound, and she was thinking of completely cutting it, but it seemed so stilted without it, and she had no idea of how to avoid writing this scene.

But one part of that thought, she realized, wasn’t true.

Her gaze landed on her coffee table.

The sheet of flight log paper with ten numbers written on them stared tauntingly back at her, daring her to call Pete.

“Nope, no, I am not going to do it,” she told herself. “No—absolutely not.

I’m sure he has better things to do than answer stupid questions.

No—I will not call him.”

The paper raised a nonexistent eyebrow.

“No!” was her battle cry, and she turned back to her laptop screen, but it offered no relief.

The depressing reality of her blinking, unmoving cursor cackled at her in harmony with the flight log paper.

It was like that healthy cereal ad from years ago, with the little girl in a prim uniform, enticingly calling “Donuts?”

However, after ten more minutes, the dictatorship of the blank page grew too cruel and harsh, and she folded like a house of whatever was more insubstantial than cards.

“Fine,” she muttered, snatching up the paper. “I’ll call, but if he doesn’t answer, it’s no skin off my back—I’ll manage… somehow.”

At least that’s what she told herself.

She dialed the number, heart pounding as the phone rang…

And rang…

And rang…

And rang.

She was just about to breathe a sigh of conflicted relief and hang up, but then the line clicked, and she heard a slightly breathless “Pete Mitchell.”

“Hi,” she blinked, cursing herself for not thinking through what she was going to say. “I don’t know if you remember me, we met at the Apple Valley Airshow—”

“__, right?

The writer.”

“Yeah, that’s me, you said I could call if I had any questions,” she scratched her head.

“Uh-huh.

I’m guessing you have one,” she could hear the smile in his voice.

“More like a lot, really.

I’ve unfortunately written myself into a corner, it’s this dogfight scene, and there’s no way I can currently remove it without sacrificing practically all of my progress since last week.

I just need to know if the tactics are sound.”

“Huh.”

“I—you know, I can figure it out myself, if it’s too much trouble—”

He interrupted, “No, it’s no trouble, I’m more than willing to help, in fact… uh, this might sound—weird and uncomfortable—or—both, really, but if you want, why don’t you come out to my hangar tomorrow, we can talk about this, rework your scene if we need to, without having to do video calls or text or email.”

“Oh,” she breathed, eyes wide.

“I promise I’m not a serial killer or anything,” he chuckled.

“I—thank you for the reassurance, by the way—but I mean, that’s a lot of confidence in how well I can write a dogfight.”

“It can’t be all that bad,” he assured.

“I’ll just prepare to be ripped to shreds,” she half-teasingly replied.

Pete snorted. “Even if it were that bad, I wouldn’t rip it to shreds—I save that for my new students.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t know what’s worse, being torn apart or the porcelain treatment.”

“How about a balance, then?”

“I’d be very happy with that.”

“So… is that a yes to coming out to my hangar?”

“I… suppose it is,” she replied, before she could convince herself otherwise.

She was a mature, responsible adult, and she was capable of being said mature, responsible adult.

(And if time permitted, she was even capable of looking respectfully, when he wasn’t watching.)

(She was only human, after all.)

“Perfect, I’ll send you the address; I have to warn you, it’ll probably be a bit of a drive, is that okay?”

“That’s fine, after all, where else will I find someone with experience flying the P-51?”

“You could always try the local VFW post,” he joked.

“What are the odds my local VFW has a former P-51 pilot?

I’ll go with the expert I’ve already met.”

“Alright, alright, I already agreed to help, no need to butter me up,” he lightly said, humorously.

“Just send the address,” was her amused response.

And that was how she found herself on US-395 North making the three-and-a-half hour drive from her apartment in San Bernardino to the Mojave, praying that she wouldn’t somehow make a fool of herself today.

To be continued…

Next Part

Was part of this story inspired by Atonement?

Maybe.

I didn’t really have the movie in mind when I wrote the plot device, but I realized the similarity after the fact.

Analog flight computer

USAAF

Band of Brothers

The Apple Valley Airshow takes place every year in the town of Apple Valley, located in San Bernardino, California.

(I considered setting this story at the annual Miramar Airshow, which takes place at MCAS (formerly NAS) Miramar, but I imagine that Mav would probably want to avoid going to MCAS Miramar for obvious reasons.)

Roundel

I don’t think that most pilots would do very daring aerobatic stunts in a plane as old as the P-51, just because she’s a darn P-51, and she’s a flying piece of history, but this is Mav, he absolutely knows what his girl can handle, I’m sure he knows how to make something look more crazy than it actually is, and bottom line, let’s just suspend our disbelief, 😂.

Did I introduce Mav in that way just so I could use that gif?

Probably absolutely.

It’s a great shot, and I do not blame me.

“You in danger, girl.” Timestamp 1:35

All the information about the P-51 is taken from the information available about the model and history/registration of Tom’s P-51, except for the details of her name and the military flight logs being missing, as the history available for N51EW never mentions if she saw actual WWII combat.

She is registered in the FAA database with the serial number 44-12840, and her name since 2006 has been “Kiss Me Kate”.

(I know why she’s named this, and it hits something in my heart that Tom never bothered to rename her.)

Her name in this story will be explained later, but those who follow me on my main blog, @oh-great-authoress, might have a hunch as to why I named the P-51 “Bianca”.

The ad I mentioned was a real Kellogg’s Special K ad.

VFW

The travel time between San Bernardino and Mav’s hangar is estimated using the travel time from San Bernardino to NAWS China Lake, and then a further hour and twenty minutes from there.

Taglist

@valmare

@callsign-skydancer

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

@tadomikiku

@malindacath

@aviatorobsessed

@lynnevanss

@djs8891

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

[demxters]

☙ 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 ❧

robert ‘bob’ floyd x f!reader

childhood!best friends to lovers

series summary: when bob floyd comes back to his hometown for the first time in six years, he reconnects with his childhood best friend in hopes of mending a relationship that once was.

(warning(s) can be found on each individual part)

part of the ‘through the seasons’ universe

“People come and go, and the seasons are gonna change. But my love for you will always be the one thing that stays the same.”

☙ part i

☙ part ii

☙ part iii

☙ epilogue

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓:

☙ moodboards:

the later years

☙ oneshots:

callsign: turducken

☙ blurbs:

ornaments and cocoa nights

bob and brandy’s blanket fort tradition