#Top Gun fanfiction

[callsigns-haze]

What ruined this Christmas so quickly? Lies. 3

Part 1 here Part 2 here

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x wife!reader

Summary: Just a few weeks before Christmas all goes downhill. You're left taking care of the kids and leaving work early and now your husbands brings up the topic of moving as soon as possible to San Diego. You're overwhelmed but he's willing to go no matter the lies he told.

Warnings: Mentions of throwing up, mentions of sickness, lies, overwhelmed reader, arguments, mentions of cheating

Word count: 6.1k

The soft light of morning streamed through the curtains as Bradley stirred, the warmth of your body pressed against his pulling him from sleep. His arm instinctively tightened around your waist for a moment before he let go, careful not to wake you.

He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing his phone and squinting at the bright screen. There was a text waiting for him, and when he saw it was from Phoenix, his stomach clenched.

Phoenix: Did you tell her yet?

Bradley stared at the message, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. He glanced over at you, your face peaceful and relaxed in sleep, the events of last night leaving a slight smile on your lips.

He ran a hand over his face, sighing quietly. He hadn’t told you. Instead, he had lied to you, weaving together an excuse to justify his impending trip to San Diego. You trusted him, and here he was, betraying that trust.

His chest tightened as guilt surged through him. He typed a response, then hesitated, deleting it before writing something else.

Bradley: No. Not yet.

A moment later, Phoenix replied.

Phoenix: Bradshaw… you can’t keep putting this off. She’s gonna find out, and it’ll be worse.

Bradley frowned, staring at her words. She was right, but he couldn’t bring himself to face it—not yet. You’d been so tense, so tired. The argument couple nights back still lingered in his mind, and the thought of adding more stress made his chest ache.

He locked his phone, placing it back on the nightstand as he shifted closer to you. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he pressed a kiss to the back of your shoulder, trying to push the guilt aside.

You stirred softly, the sensation of Bradley’s arm wrapped around your waist grounding you as you blinked against the morning light. The warmth of his body pressed against your back made you sigh contentedly, though the weight of the week still lingered at the edge of your mind.

“Good morning,” his voice rumbled low and soft in your ear, and you could feel the gentle press of his lips against your shoulder.

You shifted to face him, your eyes meeting his, still half-lidded with sleep. “Morning,” you murmured, your voice heavy with drowsiness. “You’re up early.”

He smiled faintly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Couldn’t stay asleep,” he said, his hand lingering on your cheek. “Didn’t want to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” you assured him, leaning into his touch. “What time is it?”

“A little after seven,” he replied.

You groaned softly, stretching your arms above your head before curling back into him. “It’s too early,” you mumbled, letting your eyes close again.

Bradley chuckled, his hand running soothing circles on your back. “You can sleep a little longer if you want,” he said, though there was something in his tone—hesitation, almost as if he was distracted.

You peeked up at him, your brows furrowing slightly. “What’s on your mind?” you asked, your voice still quiet but sharper now, more alert.

He hesitated, his hand stilling on your back for a moment before resuming its slow movement. “Nothing,” he said, his smile faint but not quite reaching his eyes. “Just thinking about the day.”

You didn’t press him—yet—but you could feel that something was off. Still, the warmth of his embrace and the softness of the morning kept you from digging too deep right away. Instead, you snuggled closer, letting the moment linger just a little longer.

You smirked sleepily, the teasing tone in your voice unmistakable as you tilted your head up to look at him. “You better not be over there thinking about anything other than repeating last night’s events, Bradshaw.”

Bradley’s eyes widened slightly in surprise before a grin broke across his face. “Oh, is that so?” he murmured, his hand sliding from your back to rest on your hip.

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “I mean, if you’re going to keep me awake like that, you’d better make it worth my while.”

He let out a low laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“I like to think I’m persuasive,” you countered, your smirk widening as you felt his hand tighten slightly on your hip.

Bradley’s grin softened, a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours. “Well, Mrs. Bradshaw,” he murmured, his voice low and full of promise, “if that’s what’s on your mind, who am I to argue?”

“Exactly,” you whispered against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

He chuckled again, the sound deep and warm, before kissing you fully. It wasn’t hurried or rushed like the chaos of your everyday lives—it was deliberate, slow, and full of the same intensity that had lingered between you last night.

“You’re trouble,” he muttered as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

“And you love it,” you teased, your smile softening as you held his gaze.

“Damn right, I do,” he admitted, leaning in for another kiss, letting the world outside your bedroom wait just a little longer.

As Bradley’s lips trailed down your neck, warm and deliberate, a soft sigh escaped your lips. You tilted your head slightly, giving him better access, but the thought still lingered in your mind, unshakable.

“You’re leaving right after New Year’s,” you murmured, your voice laced with a mix of resignation and disappointment.

Bradley paused for a fraction of a second, his lips stilling against your skin before he resumed his kisses, slower this time, as though trying to soothe your worry without saying a word. His hands tightened slightly on your hips, pulling you closer to him.

“You’ll be back soon, right?” you asked softly, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Yeah,” he mumbled against your skin, his tone low and almost evasive as he moved to press a kiss to your shoulder.

You let out another sigh, your breath shaky as you tried to push past the unease building in your chest. “It’s just… I thought this time would be different, you know? That we’d have more time together before the Navy called you away again. I just don't want any of the kids to get sick again, especially Theo.”

Bradley pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression tender, though there was a flicker of something else—guilt—that he quickly masked. “I know,” he said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “I’ll make it up to you.”

You smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “You always say that.”

He didn’t have a response for that, so he leaned in to kiss you again instead, as if that could erase the weight of what he wasn’t saying. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you the truth—that this trip wasn’t just a routine call, but something he’d chosen to do, knowing how much it would hurt you.

As he kissed you, his heart ached with the knowledge that he was betraying your trust, but he pushed it aside, focusing instead on the moment, on the way you fit perfectly in his arms.

“I’ll do better,” he promised against your lips, though even he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince—you or himself.

Bradley rolled out of bed with a groan, his movements fluid yet unhurried as he stretched his arms above his head. The morning light filtered in through the blinds, catching on the muscles of his back as he reached for his clothes on the chair nearby.

You watched him with a small, appreciative smile, your chin propped on your hand. Your gaze shamelessly wandered to his backside as he pulled on a pair of sweatpants, the fabric clinging in just the right way.

“Enjoying the view?” he teased without turning around, his voice laced with amusement.

“Always,” you shot back, your smirk growing as he turned to glance at you over his shoulder, shaking his head with a grin.

Bradley pulled on a T-shirt and ran a hand through his messy hair before leaning down to press a quick kiss to your temple. “I’ll grab Theo,” he said softly, his hand lingering on your cheek for a moment before he left the room.

You lay back against the pillows, hearing the familiar creak of the floorboards as he made his way to Theo’s room. A few moments later, you heard the soft sound of Bradley’s voice as he spoke to the baby.

“Hey, buddy,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing as he approached the crib. “You ready to start the day?”

Theo babbled happily in response, his tiny hands reaching up toward Bradley as he leaned down to scoop him up.

“There we go,” Bradley said, cradling Theo against his chest as he rubbed the baby’s back gently. “Let’s go see Mama, huh?”

Theo giggled, his little fingers gripping the fabric of Bradley’s shirt as he carried him back into your shared room.

When they entered, your heart melted at the sight. Bradley’s broad frame dwarfed the tiny baby in his arms, yet his movements were so gentle, so full of love, that it was impossible not to feel a pang of affection.

“Look who I found,” Bradley said with a smile, sitting on the edge of the bed as Theo reached out toward you.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” you cooed, taking Theo into your arms and kissing his chubby cheeks as he squirmed happily.

Bradley leaned back on his hands, watching the two of you with a soft smile. “Best way to start the day,” he said, his voice warm and sincere.

You settled Theo in your lap, his tiny hands gripping yours as he babbled endlessly, his bright eyes darting between you and Bradley.

“You’re full of energy this morning,” you murmured, smoothing down his soft hair before leaning in to kiss the top of his head.

Bradley watched the scene for a moment, his expression soft, before he stretched and stood. “I’ll start breakfast,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at you. “Any requests?”

You shrugged, shifting Theo onto your hip as you stood to follow him. “Surprise me.”

Bradley grinned. “You might regret saying that.”

He headed downstairs, his steps quiet as he moved toward the kitchen. You trailed behind him, bouncing Theo lightly as he giggled at the movement.

In the kitchen, Bradley set to work, pulling ingredients from the fridge while you settled Theo into his high chair. The baby watched his dad intently, his little hands slapping the tray of his chair as he babbled nonsense.

“Think he’s giving me cooking advice?” Bradley quipped, glancing at Theo with a smirk as he cracked eggs into a bowl.

“Probably critiquing your technique,” you teased, leaning against the counter with a smile.

Bradley shot you a mock-offended look. “I’m a pro at this, thank you very much.”

You chuckled softly, enjoying the easy banter. Despite the tension from the nights before, moments like this reminded you of why you fell in love with him in the first place—the way he could make even the simplest mornings feel special.

As Bradley whisked the eggs with practiced ease, you glanced toward the stairs. “Should I go wake the girls? They’ll probably want breakfast soon.”

He smirked without looking up, pouring the eggs into the sizzling pan. “Let them sleep in,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement. “It’s finally quiet around here. We should enjoy it while it lasts.”

You laughed softly, leaning back against the counter. “Peace and quiet doesn’t last long in this house.”

“Nope,” he agreed, flipping the eggs with a deft hand. “Which is exactly why I’m soaking this in.”

Theo, as if sensing the calm, let out a loud babble and smacked his high chair tray with both hands.

Bradley turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe not entirely quiet.”

You chuckled, reaching out to tickle Theo’s belly, earning another giggle from him. “This one doesn’t know the meaning of quiet.”

Bradley grinned, plating the eggs before grabbing the bread to toast. “He takes after you.”

You gasped in mock offense. “Excuse me? I am the epitome of calm.”

“Sure, sweetheart,” Bradley teased, leaning over to kiss your temple as he passed you on his way to the toaster. “Whatever you say.”

As you leaned against the counter, watching Bradley work, a thought crossed your mind. You shifted, resting your elbows on the surface as you spoke.

“Hey,” you began casually, “do you want to go shopping today? Pick up some stuff for your deployment to San Diego?”

Bradley froze for the slightest moment, the spatula hovering above the pan. He quickly recovered, flipping the eggs onto a plate, but you caught the way his shoulders tensed.

“Uh,” he started, avoiding your gaze as he busied himself with the toast, “yeah, we could do that.”

You tilted your head, sensing something was off. “I mean, it’s not like we have a ton of time. It’s probably better to get ahead of it, right?”

He forced a smile as he turned back to you, holding the plate of food. “Right.”

But there was something in his tone—something hesitant, almost strained. You narrowed your eyes slightly, studying him.

“You okay?” you asked, trying to keep your voice light.

“Yeah, fine,” he replied quickly, setting the plate on the counter. He leaned against it, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just thinking about everything we’ll need to sort before I go.”

You nodded, accepting his answer but still feeling a nagging suspicion. “Well, let me know when you want to head out. I can leave the kids with Matt or take them with us. Whatever works.”

Bradley’s guilt twisted in his chest as he looked at you, so calm and supportive despite everything. He swallowed hard, knowing he should tell you the truth but unable to force the words out.

“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice softer. “I’ll let you know.”

He turned back to the stove, pretending to focus on cleaning up, but his mind was racing. How was he supposed to tell you he wasn’t going on deployment, that the orders he claimed to have received weren’t real? The weight of his lie felt heavier than ever, and the thought of hurting you made it even worse.

For now, though, he pushed it down, giving you a weak smile when you handed him Theo’s bottle. “I’ll take him while you eat,” he offered, desperate for a distraction.

You nodded, watching him carefully as he picked up Theo and headed to the living room. Something was definitely going on, but you decided to let it slide—for now.

Bradley climbed the stairs slowly, Theo balanced on his hip as the little boy babbled softly. His tiny hands played with Bradley’s shirt collar, but Bradley barely noticed, his mind clouded with guilt.

“This is such a mess,” he muttered under his breath, glancing down at Theo, who gazed up at him innocently. “What the hell am I supposed to do, buddy?”

Theo gurgled in response, his wide-eyed stare unbothered by his dad’s internal conflict.

Bradley sighed, shifting the baby’s weight as he reached the top of the stairs. “I screwed up,” he admitted quietly, the words barely audible even to himself. “I should’ve just told her from the start.”

He paused outside Theo’s room, leaning against the doorframe for a moment. “But how am I supposed to look her in the eye and say I lied?”

Theo let out a tiny squeal, breaking Bradley from his thoughts. He glanced down and gave the baby a faint smile. “You don’t know how lucky you are, kid. No big decisions, no guilt... just bottles and naps.”

With a deep breath, Bradley pushed open the door and stepped inside. He set Theo down on the soft play mat near the crib, watching as his son grabbed a plush toy and started chewing on it.

Bradley crouched down beside him, running a hand over his face. “I’ll figure it out,” he murmured. “I have to.”

Bradley reached over to grab Theo’s bottle from the small table beside the rocking chair, checking the temperature with a quick touch to his wrist. Satisfied, he held it out to Theo, who immediately dropped the plush toy in favour of the bottle, his little hands grasping at it eagerly.

“There you go, bud,” Bradley said softly, easing himself into the chair as he helped guide the bottle to Theo’s mouth.

Theo latched on instantly, his eyes half-closing in contentment as he sucked on the bottle. Bradley watched him in silence, his thoughts still swirling.

“Your mom’s going to kill me, you know that?” he muttered, more to himself than to Theo. The baby offered no response beyond the soft sound of his drinking.

Bradley leaned back in the chair, one hand cradling Theo’s small body while the other rubbed tiredly at his face. “I want to do right by her, by you and your sisters,” he whispered. “But sometimes... I feel like I’m just making it worse.”

Theo’s eyes fluttered open, and he gazed up at his dad with an expression so trusting it made Bradley’s chest ache.

“Guess it’s not about me, huh?” he said, smiling faintly as he adjusted the bottle. “It’s about you guys. Always.”

Theo’s tiny hand reached up, gripping one of Bradley’s fingers tightly as if to agree.

As Bradley sat in the rocking chair, Theo cradled in his arms with the nearly empty bottle, he heard the unmistakable sound of little feet thundering down the stairs.

A moment later, Anna and Judy appeared in the doorway, their hair tousled from sleep and their matching pyjama tops slightly askew.

“Daddy!” Anna squealed, her voice bright and excited despite the early hour.

“Rooster,” Judy greeted, rubbing her eyes with one hand while holding her beloved stuffed bunny in the other.

“Morning, troublemakers,” Bradley said with a smile, sitting up straighter as the girls bounded into the room. Anna immediately climbed onto his lap, careful to avoid Theo, who blinked at her with wide, curious eyes.

“Why didn’t you wake us up?” Anna asked, pouting as she leaned against Bradley’s shoulder.

“Because you two finally slept in for once,” he teased, wrapping one arm around her while still holding Theo steady with the other.

Judy climbed onto the armrest of the rocking chair, her legs swinging as she looked down at her baby brother. “Did Theo cry again? I heard him.”

“Yeah, he woke me up at three,” Bradley said with mock exasperation. “Guess he figured I didn’t need sleep.”

Judy giggled, leaning over to tickle Theo’s tiny foot. “You’re a little troublemaker too, aren’t you?”

Theo gurgled in response, his face lighting up at the attention.

“Alright, you two,” Bradley said, shifting to stand up with Theo in one arm and Anna still clinging to his other side. “Let’s get you some breakfast. Pancake leftovers sound good?”

“Yes!” Anna cheered, sliding down from his arm and darting toward the kitchen.

Judy groaned as Rooster was ruffling her hair. As she skipped after her sister, Bradley adjusted Theo on his hip and headed toward the kitchen, ready to start the day with his lively little crew.

The sound of little feet thundering down the stairs filled the house as Anna and Judy raced ahead, their excited giggles echoing through the hall. Bradley followed behind them, carrying Theo on his hip as the girls darted toward the kitchen.

“Slow down!” he called after them, though the grin on his face betrayed that he wasn’t really upset.

The girls skidded to a halt just inside the kitchen, spotting you at the counter with a mug of coffee in hand. You turned at the commotion, raising an eyebrow as the girls barrelled toward you.

“Mommy!” Anna shouted, wrapping her arms around your leg while Judy stood beside her.

“Well, good morning to you two,” you said with a laugh, ruffling Anna’s messy hair. “What’s got you so hyper already?”

“We just woke up,” Judy said matter-of-factly, though the sparkle in her eyes said she was more excited to see you than anything else.

Bradley entered the room behind them, setting Theo down in his high chair with practiced ease. “Apparently, sleeping in makes them even more energetic,” he joked, leaning against the counter as he watched the scene unfold.

You smiled at him briefly before turning your attention back to the girls. “Alright, go wash up before breakfast,” you said, nudging them gently toward the sink.

“Yes, Mommy,” Anna said, dragging Judy with her as they raced to the sink to wash their hands.

Bradley stepped closer to you, his gaze soft as he tilted his head. “They’re a whirlwind this morning.”

“They take after their dad,” you teased, giving him a knowing look over your coffee cup.

He chuckled, leaning in to kiss your temple. “And here I thought I was the calm one in this family.”

You snorted, shaking your head as the girls returned, ready for whatever chaos breakfast would bring.

You opened the fridge and pulled out the plate of leftover pancakes from the morning before, giving them a quick once-over. “Good thing you made extra yesterday,” you said, grabbing a pan to reheat them.

The girls watched eagerly from the table, Anna practically bouncing in her seat while Judy rested her chin in her hands, still looking a little sleepy. Bradley had settled Theo in his high chair and was now helping him fiddle with a toy to keep him occupied.

As the pancakes warmed, you glanced over your shoulder. “Butter and syrup for both of you?”

“Yes, please!” Anna chirped, her voice full of excitement.

Judy nodded, sitting up a little straighter. “But not too much syrup,” she added thoughtfully. “I don’t want it to be too sticky.”

“You got it,” you replied, flipping the pancakes once before plating them.

A few minutes later, you placed the warm pancakes in front of the girls, handing Anna her fork first. “There you go, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, Mommy!” Anna said, digging in immediately.

“And for you,” you said, setting Judy’s plate down carefully and ruffling her hair.

“Thanks,” Judy replied, a small smile on her face as she cut into her pancake.

Bradley watched the scene unfold from his spot at the counter, his arms crossed and an amused look on his face. “You’re spoiling them, you know,” he teased lightly.

“They deserve it,” you shot back with a smirk. “Besides, you’ll just end up eating the leftovers if I don’t give them these now.”

“Fair point,” he said with a laugh, moving to pour himself a cup of coffee as the girls happily devoured their breakfast.

As you leaned against the counter, sipping your coffee, you turned to Bradley with a casual but pointed question. “So, about that shopping we talked about earlier—should we bring the kids with us, or should I call Matt to babysit?”

Bradley froze mid-sip of his coffee, his expression shifting almost imperceptibly. His face paled slightly, and he set the mug down on the counter with deliberate care, as if the question had suddenly weighed him down.

“Uh…” he started, scratching the back of his neck and avoiding your gaze. “I mean… bringing the kids could be a lot, but Matt’s usually busy, right?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, noticing the slight waver in his voice. “Matt owes me one, actually. It wouldn’t be a problem.”

His jaw clenched, and he quickly turned to busy himself with the coffee pot, pouring more into his already full mug. “I don’t know… maybe it’s better if we just bring the kids. Make it a family thing, you know?”

The way he wouldn’t meet your eyes sent a spark of suspicion through you. “Bradley,” you said, your voice firm but calm. “What’s going on? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“What? No, nothing!” he said quickly, waving you off with a forced chuckle. “I’m just—uh, just trying to think of the easiest plan. That’s all.”

You didn’t buy it for a second, but you decided not to push just yet. “Alright,” you said slowly, setting your mug down. “If you’re sure.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes as he leaned against the counter, the tension in his shoulders all too obvious.

As you turned back to the stove, your mind was already working through the situation. Something wasn’t adding up, and you were determined to figure out what it was.

You rinsed your mug in the sink, glancing at the small pile of dishes left from breakfast. Turning to Bradley, who was still leaning against the counter with his coffee, you asked, “Can you handle the dishes for me?”

He blinked, as if startled out of his thoughts, and nodded quickly. “Yeah, of course. No problem.”

“Thanks,” you said, drying your hands on a towel before reaching for your phone on the counter. You scrolled through your contacts and opened a message thread with Matt.

You: Hey, can you come in half an hour early on Monday?

It didn’t take long for Matt to reply.

Matt: What’s up? You okay?

Bradley, still standing by the sink and avoiding your gaze, turned on the water and started scrubbing the plates. You typed a quick response as you leaned casually against the counter.

You: Yeah, it’s just my husband.

Matt’s response came almost immediately.

Matt: Oh, say no more. See you Monday morning.

You smirked at his typical no-nonsense tone and set your phone down, glancing back at Bradley. He was diligently working on the dishes, his broad shoulders tense as he focused on his task.

“Thanks for doing that,” you said lightly, though your eyes lingered on him for a moment longer. Something still felt off, but you decided to let it lie for now.

---

Walking into the lab on Monday morning, you barely had time to adjust your bag on your shoulder before Matt appeared out of nowhere, his eager expression lighting up the room. He jogged up to you, clipboard in hand, and practically skidded to a stop in front of you.

“Okay, spill. What’s the deal with your husband? This feels huge,” he said, his voice low but filled with excitement.

You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully as you pulled off your coat. “Calm down, Matt. It’s not that dramatic.”

“Come on,” he pressed, following you to your workstation. “You wouldn’t have texted me if it wasn’t serious and you know I don't like him. So what’s going on? Deployment stuff?”

You set your bag down and started unpacking your things, pausing for a moment before answering. “I don’t know, Matt. I feel like Bradley isn’t telling me everything about this deployment.”

Matt’s eyebrows shot up, and he leaned against the edge of your desk. “What makes you say that?”

“He’s been… off,” you admitted, fidgeting with the strap of your bag. “Like, distracted. He told me he has orders to go back to San Diego, but the way he’s acting—it doesn’t feel right. It’s like he’s hiding something.”

Matt crossed his arms, his expression thoughtful. “That’s a pretty big accusation. You sure it’s not just, I don’t know, deployment nerves?”

You shook your head. “No, this is different. Bradley’s usually upfront about this kind of thing, but now…” You trailed off, feeling a pang of frustration. “It’s like he’s keeping me at arm’s length.”

Matt tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “Maybe he’s trying to protect you from something. You know how guys like him are—they think they’re doing us a favour by not telling us the full story.”

“Maybe,” you conceded, though the thought didn’t sit well with you. “But I’m his wife, Matt. If there’s something going on, I deserve to know.”

Matt nodded slowly, his expression softening. “You’re right. Just… don’t let it eat at you too much, okay? He’ll come around. And if he doesn’t, you’ve got me to back you up.”

You managed a small smile, appreciating his support. “Thanks, Matt.”

“Anytime,” he said, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before stepping back to give you space to settle in.

Matt hesitated, lingering by your desk as you opened your laptop and tried to immerse yourself in work. His expression was a mix of curiosity and concern, and you could feel his eyes on you. Finally, he broke the silence.

“Hey,” he said softly, “this might be out of line, but… do you think Bradley might be cheating?”

The question hit you like a slap, and you froze, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. Slowly, you turned to look at him, disbelief flashing across your face.

“Matt,” you said, your voice sharp enough to cut, “absolutely not.”

He raised his hands defensively. “Okay, okay! I didn’t mean to accuse him of anything. It’s just… you seem suspicious of him, and I had to ask.”

You shook your head, your expression softening slightly as you let out a breath. “No, Matt. Bradley isn’t like that. He’s a lot of things, but a cheater? Never. He loves me, he loves the kids—he wouldn’t do that.”

Matt nodded, his tone apologetic. “Fair enough. I just thought maybe… I don’t know, sometimes when people act distant, it’s because they’re hiding something like that.”

“Well, if he’s hiding something, it’s not that,” you said firmly, your voice leaving no room for argument. “If anything, it’s probably work-related. Maybe something he can’t talk about yet.”

Matt studied you for a moment longer before nodding again. “Alright. I believe you. Sorry for even bringing it up.”

You forced a small smile, though your chest felt tight. “It’s fine. I get why you asked. But trust me, that’s not it.”

With Matt finally gone, you turned back to your desk, letting out a slow breath as you tried to push the conversation out of your mind. You opened your laptop, pulling up the equations and data you’d been analyzing before he interrupted.

The numbers stared back at you, stark and unyielding, but your focus wavered. You twirled a pen between your fingers, staring blankly at the screen as Matt’s question replayed in your mind.

Do you think Bradley might be cheating?

You shook your head sharply, as if physically dislodging the thought. It was absurd. You knew Bradley. You’d seen the way he looked at you, the way he adored your kids, the lengths he went to make you feel loved—even when things were complicated.

Still, the unease lingered, not about infidelity, but about the secret he seemed to be keeping. You sighed and forced yourself to concentrate, jotting down notes and reworking formulas. Your project wasn’t going to wait for your personal life to straighten out.

Little by little, you managed to lose yourself in the work. The problem on the whiteboard drew you in, and soon, you were focused, scribbling solutions and testing calculations. Whatever was going on with Bradley would have to wait. For now, you had a job to do.

The whiteboard in front of you was already crowded with formulas and diagrams, but it wasn’t enough. Grabbing a marker, you started jotting down new calculations, muttering to yourself as the equations unravelled in your mind.

You stepped back to survey your work, one hand on your hip and the other tapping the marker against your chin. Something wasn’t adding up. Crossing out part of the formula, you rewrote it, the sound of the marker squeaking against the board filling the room.

After a few minutes, you moved to your desk and began inputting the data into your laptop. The numbers on the screen shifted as you ran the simulation, but the result wasn’t what you were hoping for.

“Damn it,” you muttered under your breath, glancing back at the whiteboard.

You scribbled more notes in your notebook, flipping pages as you cross-referenced earlier data. Your mind was racing, but the distraction from everything happening at home was oddly welcome. Work was one of the few places where things felt controlled, logical.

The hours passed quickly as you dove deeper into the problem. At some point, you stood to erase a section of the board and replace it with a new idea. Stepping back, you tilted your head, studying the new layout.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, “this has to work.”

Returning to your desk, you started running the calculations again, fingers flying across the keyboard. The room was silent except for the hum of the computer and the faint scratch of your pen as you jotted down corrections.

For a while, it was just you, the data, and the relentless pursuit of a solution. It wasn’t until your phone buzzed on the desk beside you that you paused, startled out of your concentration.

You glanced at the screen and saw Bradley's name flashing. Swiping to answer, you leaned back in your chair, still holding a pen in one hand.

"Hey," you greeted, your voice soft but distracted, your mind half on the formula you’d been working on.

"Hey, sweetheart," Bradley said, his tone a little too calm. It set you on edge immediately, even before he continued. "I just wanted to let you know I’ll be staying later at work today. Something came up, and they need me to handle it."

You sat up straighter, setting your pen down on the desk. “Later? How late are we talking?”

There was a pause, a faint shuffling on his end of the line, as if he were debating how much to say. “Not too late. Probably dinner time, give or take. I’ll try to be back as soon as I can.”

The unease you’d been battling all morning stirred again. “What’s going on?” you asked carefully. “I thought today was supposed to be an easy day for you.”

Bradley hesitated, his usual confidence faltering for just a moment. “Yeah, it was supposed to be, but, uh… plans changed. Last-minute stuff, you know how it is.”

You frowned, your grip tightening on the edge of your desk. “Bradley…”

“I promise, it’s nothing big,” he said quickly, sensing the suspicion in your tone. “Just some loose ends that need tying up. I didn’t want you wondering why I wasn’t home.”

You bit your lip, unsure whether to push or let it go. Finally, you sighed. “Alright. Just don’t make it too late. The kids were looking forward to seeing you tonight.”

“I know,” he said, his voice softening. “I’ll make it up to them. And to you.”

“Okay,” you replied, though the weight in your chest didn’t lift. “Drive safe, alright?”

“I will,” he assured you. “Thanks, sweetheart. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye,” you said, ending the call and placing your phone back on the desk.

After the call with Bradley, the unease lingered like a storm cloud you couldn’t shake. You tried going back to work, but your thoughts kept circling back to his tone, his excuses, and the odd behaviour he’d shown lately. Finally, with a frustrated sigh, you decided you needed to talk to someone.

You stood and made your way down the hall to Matt’s office, your footsteps echoing softly on the polished floor. Reaching his door, you knocked lightly before pushing it open.

“Got a minute?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Matt looked up from his desk, where he was flipping through a stack of papers. His expression shifted immediately to one of concern when he saw your face. “Of course. What’s going on?”

You stepped inside and closed the door behind you. The weight of your worries pressed heavily on your chest, and for a moment, you hesitated, unsure how to even voice what you were feeling. Finally, you sank into the chair across from him and folded your hands in your lap.

“How can you tell if someone’s cheating?” you blurted out, the words sounding strange and raw as they left your mouth.

Matt’s eyes widened in surprise, and he leaned back in his chair. “Whoa. That’s… a loaded question. Are you seriously talking about Bradley? The accusation you nearly killed me about.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I don’t know, Matt. He’s been acting… different. Cagey. Saying things that don’t quite add up. And then there’s this deployment he mentioned, but something about it doesn’t feel right.”

Matt frowned, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his desk. “Okay.”

[roosterforme]

The Daggers are sorry for party rocking. Merry Christmas!

The Gift Exchange I Top Gun Dagger Squad edition

Summary: The Dagger squad celebrates Christmas with their annual gift exchange.

Warnings: Fluff, humor, adult banter

Length: 1000 words

Pairing: a mention of Rooster x girlfriend

Masterlist for more fun

It was Christmas Eve, and time for the annual Secret Santa gift exchange before everyone dispersed to spend Christmas Day with their families. The Dagger squad met up at Bob's house with bottles of wine, along with their gifts. 

"Welcome! Happy Holidays!" Bob greeted all of the aviators as they arrived. His jolly Santa hat was perched on his head. "Drinks and snacks are in the kitchen."

Phoenix kissed his cheek, making him blush, before she and Fanboy made their way to the kitchen.

"Should we raise the limit on how much we're allowed to spend on gifts for next year?" Phoenix asked, opening a bottle of wine. "Twenty bucks doesn't really seem like a lot when I always end up having to buy something for the most high maintenance one of you."

"Oh, you got Hangman?" Fanboy asked, pouring himself a glass of wine.

"Of course I got Bagman. I get him every year!" Phoenix complained. "Who did you get?" 

"Coyote," Fanboy whispered to her. "And I never know what to get for him!"

Rooster and Payback wandered into the kitchen, grabbing drinks from the fridge. "Bob wants to open presents soon," Rooster said. "But I told him I'm going to need a few drinks first. This gift exchange never ends well."

"For real," Payback chimed in. "Why do we even do it?"

"To celebrate the spirit of Christmas! Ho Ho Ho!" Bob exclaimed. "Let's all go into the living room and exchange gifts!"

"Fine," Phoenix agreed, grabbing her expertly wrapped gift and taking it in. She sat on the floor between Rooster and Coyote, and she chugged her glass of wine. 

"Last year, Coyote got me deodorant," Payback said. "The gifts this year couldn't be as bad as that."

"You needed it," the others all said in unison, but Payback just rolled his eyes. 

"I'll go first!" Bob said, cheerfully handing a red and silver wrapped gift covered in glitter to Fanboy. "Merry Christmas!"

Fanboy took the gift with a smile. "Thanks, Bob," he said as he unwrapped it. But then his smile turned to a frown. "How many times do I have to tell you guys... I like Star Wars! Not Star Trek!" 

"Sorry, I don't actually know the difference..." Bob said with a grimace. 

Fanboy held up the Klingon action figure. "Oh well, I can probably glue on some felt and turn him into a Wookiee. Here, Coyote."

He tossed a gift bag to Coyote, and a plunger fell out onto his lap. "Seriously? It was just that one time, man!"

"You broke the damn toilet," Rooster said. "The locker room has never been the same."

"Yeah," Hangman agreed. "Great gift for you, honestly."

"Whatever," Coyote groaned, setting the plunger down and passing a gift to Payback. "Merry Christmas," he mumbled.

"Thanks," Payback said, unwrapping a pair of sunglasses. "Dude, I gave these to you for your birthday."

Coyote just shrugged. "I guess they actually are better than a plunger. Wanna trade?"

"No, thank you," Payback said, passing a box of condoms to Phoenix. "Sorry, I didn't have wrapping paper."

"What am I supposed to do with these?" she asked, cautiously taking the box from him. Rooster and Hangman were absolutely cracking up. 

Payback just gaped at her. "Uh, have sex without getting pregnant?"

"I'm dating a girl, dickhead," she replied, looking around at the dumbest group of men she had ever seen. 

"Ohhh, right. Right," Payback said, suddenly understanding his error. "Well if you don't want them, I'll take them."

"Sure, whatever," Phoenix mumbled, handing the condoms back to him. "Here Bagman, this is for you."

Hangman carefully tore into the gold and green paper, smiling brilliantly when he held up the gift Phoenix got for him. "A Malibu Ken doll! Looks exactly like me! Thanks, Phoenix!" 

"You're welcome," she replied with a smirk, pouring some more wine. 

Hangman procured a wrapped box from behind his back and passed it to Rooster. "Now, Rooster, I did have to go above the twenty dollar limit, but your girlfriend was begging me to get this for you." He was already laughing before Rooster even opened it.

Rooster looked at him with narrowed eyes as he unwrapped the box revealing an enormous purple dildo. "She did not ask you to buy this!" Rooster took it out and waved it around, and the others joined in with Hangman's laughter. "Nobody needs nine inches!"

Hangman and the others were still laughing when Rooster passed Bob his gift.

"Merry fucking Christmas," Rooster said, still brandishing the dildo at anyone who dared to laugh.

"Did you get me a 5-pack of beer?" Bob asked Rooster. "What happened to the sixth one?"

Rooster shrugged. "I got thirsty earlier."

Bob timidly asked, "Doesn't anyone here remember that I don't drink?" 

"Oh, right. Well, hand them right back, my friend," Rooster told him, and he sat cradling the 5-pack and the dildo in his arms. "I'll take care of them for you."

"Why do we even bother doing this?" Phoenix asked. "We could all just go out for burgers together or something with our twenty dollars."

"It's the season for giving!" Bob tried to say, but everyone else just stood and started gathering up the gifts. He felt his smile falter a bit, feeling a little sad that he was the only one who loved the annual gift exchange. 

But Bob watched as everyone shared a hug, genuinely wishing each other a happy holiday. 

"Have fun with your nephews!"

"See you at the Hard Deck on New Year's Eve?"

"Bring some of that homemade pie back from Lemoore."

"Make sure you hug your mom for me!"

"Merry Christmas, Bob!" Everyone called as they left his house.

His heart felt full as he cleaned up the wrapping paper, wine glasses, and the purple dildo.

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

Thanks for reading! Happy Holidays!

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[imthebadguyyy]

Apple Pie

pairing : bradley bradshaw x reader

fandom : top gun

synopsis : bradley helps you make your renowned apple pie and experiences and enthralling sense of domestic bliss.

a/n : merry christmas to all who celebrate! love and best wishes ❤️🎁

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The scent of smoky cinnamon hung thick in the air, weaving itself with the tartness of fresh apples and the buttery promise of a homemade crust. Sunlight spilled through the kitchen window in golden pools, catching the specks of flour dusting the countertops like freshly fallen snow. A warm breeze, heavy with the aroma of a San Diego Christmas, whispered through the open window, carrying the faint scent of the salty sea air. It was a day meant for baking—a day where the world outside could wait while warmth and sweetness unfurled inside your home, one shared with Bradley.

The marble countertop, a luxurious expanse of creamy white, veined with subtle streaks of silver and gray flowed like frozen rivers beneath its polished surface. Cool to the touch and impeccably smooth, it provided the perfect canvas for the symphony of ingredients scattered across it.

A woven basket brimmed with crimson and honey-gold apples, their skins catching the sunlight and gleaming like polished jewels. Nearby, a small glass bowl overflowed with granulated sugar, sparkling like powdered stardust. A ceramic dish held a mound of cinnamon and nutmeg, their earthy hues promising warmth with a whisper of spice. A stick of butter, softened to perfection, rested on a wooden board, its edges slightly melty, waiting to be folded into the dough. Flour spilled artfully from a linen pouch, creating soft white dunes across the counter, while a jar of amber-colored honey glowed invitingly in the light. Nestled among the ingredients, a rustic jug of heavy cream stood tall, its promise of richness tucked beneath its simple cork top. Everything was arranged with an almost reverent care, a silent anticipation lingering in the air, as if the ingredients themselves knew they were destined for something magical.

Bradley stepped through the front door, the familiar creak of the hinges blending with the faint hum of music wafting from the kitchen. The aroma hit him first—sweet apples, warm cinnamon, and the unmistakable scent of butter melting into perfection. It wrapped around him like a welcome, soft and inviting.

Rounding the corner, his gaze landed on you. You stood at the counter, your apron tied snugly around your waist, its cheerful pattern a perfect match to the one hanging on the hook by the door. The sight made his heart stumble, just for a moment. There was something about the ease in your movements, the gentle sway of your hips as you worked, that filled him with a quiet, overwhelming contentment.

The apron—a gift he’d jokingly insisted on getting a matching pair of "kiss the chef" ones looked far better on you, though he’d never admit it out loud. For a fleeting second, he could imagine this moment stretched into a lifetime: mornings like this, evenings too, the two of you wrapped up in the ordinary magic of just being together.

“You’re making me look bad,” he teased, his voice warm as he leaned against the doorway. “What happened to waiting for the sous chef?”

You turned, a smudge of flour dusting your cheek and a playful smile lighting your face. “Sous chef? I thought you’d promoted yourself to taste tester.”

Bradley grinned, crossing the room to grab his own apron. “Domestic bliss never looked so good,” he murmured, the words half to himself as he tied the strings and stepped up beside you.

Side by side at the marble countertop, you and Bradley worked in quiet harmony, the kind of rhythm that didn’t need words. His hands, large but surprisingly gentle, moved clumsily at first, pressing into the cool, pliable dough while your smaller ones guided him with a soft touch. The room was filled with the quiet, comforting sounds of baking—the scrape of the rolling pin, the faint rustle of flour against the marble, and the occasional low hum of contentment from one or both of you.

“Like this,” you murmured, placing your hands over his. Together, you smoothed the dough into an even circle, the action unhurried, almost meditative. The soft press of your palms and the steady roll of the pin seemed to draw the tension from the air, leaving behind a soothing calm that wrapped around you both.

Bradley’s brow furrowed in concentration as he followed your lead, his lips quirking into a smile whenever you corrected his grip or teased his uneven edges. “Not bad for a rookie, huh?” he said, glancing over at you with an easy grin.

You tilted your head, pretending to inspect his work. “Hmm. I’d say you’ve got potential, Bradshaw,” you replied, your tone light but your smile warm.

The moment felt timeless, as if the world outside had paused to give you these small, perfect moments. The soft sunlight filtering through the window, the mingling scents of butter and spice, and the steady rhythm of your hands moving together—it was all a quiet symphony of togetherness. By the time the crust was ready, your fingers dusted in flour and your laughter mingling in the warm air, it felt less like a task and more like a memory you’d treasure forever.

As the two of you worked, Bradley's thoughts drifted, momentarily pulling him away from the comforting rhythm of the kitchen. The past few weeks had been a blur of intensity. The rigorous training sessions, each one pushing his body to the limit, followed by the endless debriefs that stretched into the late hours of the night. His mind had been consumed with flight simulations, meticulous calculations, and the pressure of preparing for missions that came one after the other. Long, arduous flights had left him drained, but it wasn’t the exhaustion that weighed most heavily on him—it was the constant longing to be somewhere else.

Somewhere with you.

The thought of the kitchen, of this quiet domestic scene, had become his escape. There was something about the way you were always waiting for him, patient and unwavering, that had kept him going through those long stretches away. In the dead of night, when his muscles ached and his mind raced with the remnants of missions completed and ones yet to come, he’d close his eyes and think of you. The way your laughter filled the space between the two of you, the warmth of your touch, and the sense of peace that came simply by being near you.

Now, standing beside you, the stress of those weeks seemed to melt away. The world outside, with its endless demands and responsibilities, faded into the background as he watched you expertly roll out the pie crust, the soft flour drifting through the air. The connection between you both—so natural, so easy—was like a breath of fresh air, and in this small, quiet kitchen, Bradley found solace in the simplicity of the moment.

He hadn’t realized just how much he had longed for this. The mundane beauty of being with you—flour on his hands, apples scattered across the counter, and a pie coming together, was a contrast to the chaos he had been living. It was exactly where he wanted to be.

Bradley reached for the basket of apples, the crisp fruits cool under his hands. “You do the crust like a pro,” he said, flashing you a grin. “Let me see if I can redeem myself with the apples.”

“You sure about that?” you teased, handing him a knife and a cutting board. “This is precision work, Bradshaw. No room for error.”

“Challenge accepted,” he quipped, rolling up his sleeves again as he positioned himself beside you. He started slicing the apples, his cuts neat but slightly uneven. You leaned over to inspect, your hand brushing his wrist as you adjusted the angle of the blade.

“Thin, but not too thin,” you instructed, your voice soft but firm. “We want them to bake just right, not turn to mush.”

Bradley nodded, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small smile as he focused on the task. The rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board filled the kitchen, mixing with the faint hum of music still playing in the background. Each slice brought a sense of calm, as if the act of chopping apples could somehow unravel the knots left by weeks of tension.

While he worked, you measured out the sugar, pouring it into a small glass bowl with a practiced hand. You added a pinch of cinnamon and nutmeg, the warm, earthy spices swirling together in a fragrant mix. As you stirred them together, Bradley finished his pile of apple slices and slid them toward you with a triumphant flourish.

“Not bad, right?” he asked, his voice tinged with pride.

You glanced at the perfectly sliced apples, raising an eyebrow in approval. “Alright, I’ll admit it. You might have a future in baking after all.”

Bradley laughed, reaching for the measuring cup to help you portion out the rest of the ingredients. “Told you I’m a quick learner,” he said, his tone light but his gaze lingering on you a moment too long.

The two of you fell into an easy rhythm again, working side by side to combine the apples, sugar, and spices. The mixture shimmered in the soft light, a glossy cascade of sweetness and warmth that seemed to mirror the mood in the room. Every step felt unhurried, every action deliberate, as if time had slowed to let you savor this rare moment of togetherness.

As the two of you worked, Bradley’s mind wandered back to his childhood, to moments long passed but never forgotten. The kitchen had always been the heart of their home, his mother standing at the counter, apron tied high, her laughter filling the space as she taught him the small rituals of baking. It was there, in that warm, familiar room, that he’d first learned how to measure ingredients and roll out dough—lessons woven with love and patience, and the comforting scent of fresh-baked treats.

He remembered how she’d guide him through each step with a gentle hand, the way she’d smile when he made a mess, and the way her eyes would light up when the kitchen filled with the aroma of their creations. She always said baking was an act of love, a way to pour a piece of yourself into something tangible. It was one of those simple truths he’d carried with him, though it had taken him a while to understand how much those moments had shaped him.

As you stood beside him now, chopping apples with practiced ease, Bradley couldn’t help but notice the similarities—the way you moved with that quiet confidence, the way your presence brought a sense of peace to everything around you. It was like this kitchen, these shared moments, were a bridge between his past and present. The rhythm of your hands working together, the soft exchange of words, and the laughter that bubbled between you felt like a new chapter in a story he never wanted to end.

His thoughts drifted back to his mom again, to the way she’d often say, “Baking isn’t about perfection, it’s about enjoying the process.”

Bradley smiled to himself, a pang of nostalgia settling in his chest. Maybe he didn’t have the luxury of those moments with his mom anymore, but with you here, in this kitchen, it was as if she had passed that same warmth and care down to you, and through that, to him. He glanced over at you, the soft glow of the afternoon sun highlighting the determined curve of your cheek as you worked, and for a fleeting moment, everything felt like it had come full circle.

Bradley set down the measuring cup, the weight of the moment hitting him like a wave. His eyes softened as they drifted to you, the sight of you so focused, so at ease, reminded him of something he hadn’t thought about in years.

“You know,” he began, his voice quieter now, “the first time I baked cookies, it wasn’t just with my mom. You were there too.”

You looked up, surprise flickering across your face. “Really? I don’t remember that.”

Bradley chuckled, his gaze distant as he leaned back slightly against the counter, recalling the memory with fondness. “You were six. I was eight. Mom had decided we were going to bake chocolate chip cookies together—like a whole ‘family bonding’ thing. You were so excited, even if you had no idea what you were doing. I remember you kept sneaking chocolate chips and shoving them in your mouth when Mom wasn’t looking.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you tried to picture little you, mischievously eyeing the cookie jar. “That sounds about right.”

Bradley’s eyes twinkled as he continued. “I was determined to be the perfect little baker, you know? Measured everything precisely—like I was some kind of culinary prodigy. But you? You just dumped everything in, flour everywhere, a bit of sugar, chocolate chips scattered around… but somehow, it worked.”

You raised an eyebrow, the playful glint in your eyes matching his. “You mean it was my chaos that made it work.”

“Exactly,” Bradley said with a grin, shaking his head in disbelief. “Mom was trying so hard to keep us on track, but you and I just ended up making the biggest mess. It was like the kitchen exploded with flour and chocolate, but when those cookies came out of the oven, they were perfect. A little rough around the edges, sure, but they tasted like heaven.”

You laughed, imagining the chaos of it all. “I bet it was a disaster, but it was probably the best cookie I’ve ever eaten.”

Bradley nodded, the warmth of the memory spreading through him. “It was. And I think that’s when I realized something important—that sometimes, the mess, the imperfections, they’re what make the moments worth it. You and I, throwing chocolate chips everywhere, Mom laughing in the background—it was a mess, but it was our mess. And I’ll never forget that.”

There was a softness in his voice now, a quiet tenderness as he looked at you. “I guess I never told you this, but I always thought about that day when I came home, every time we’d bake together.”

You met his gaze, your smile softer now, the air between you warm and intimate. “It’s funny. I don’t remember the details, but I can almost feel it—the warmth of that kitchen, the smell of the cookies, and the laughter. It’s one of those memories that’s just… there. Like it was meant to be a part of me.”

Bradley’s heart swelled in his chest, and for a moment, he felt as though the years had collapsed into something simpler, something more timeless. The bond between you, so effortlessly shared in this small kitchen, felt like it had always been there, like it had been waiting to be rediscovered, one chocolate chip at a time.

With the apple filling nestled gently into the pie crust, you and Bradley stood side by side, both silently admiring the creation before you. The last few steps had been an easy flow of action, your movements guided by the comfort of routine and the shared sense of satisfaction that came from doing something together.

Bradley wiped his flour-dusted hands on his apron and looked over at you, his smile easy and warm. "You think it'll be as good as the one from last year?"

You laughed softly, a playful glint in your eyes. "Better, if we do it right."

Together, you carefully lifted the pie, the edges of the crust golden and slightly uneven, the filling bubbling just enough to promise sweetness and warmth. Bradley opened the oven door, the heat rushing out to meet you both, and you slid the pie onto the middle rack, feeling a little thrill at how perfectly it all came together.

The kitchen filled with the soft click of the oven closing, and you stood there for a moment, the two of you watching the pie as though you could will it to perfection just by looking at it. The anticipation hung in the air, the quiet hum of the oven providing the only sound.

Bradley leaned against the counter beside you, his arm brushing lightly against yours. “I’ve gotta admit, this whole baking thing—kind of growing on me.” His voice was relaxed, content, and you could tell that the weight of the past few weeks had momentarily lifted from him.

You smiled up at him, feeling a rush of affection for the man who, despite his usual focus on flying and mission prep, had found time to make something as simple—and yet, as meaningful—as this. "I’m glad you’re enjoying it. It’s nice, right? Just being here… together."

Bradley nodded, his eyes softening as he looked at you, then back at the oven. "Yeah. I don't think I've ever felt more at peace." His words were quiet, but they carried a depth that made you feel rooted in the moment.

For a few seconds, the room seemed to hold its breath, the scent of cinnamon and sugar beginning to rise, mingling with the warmth of the oven and the comfort of the space. In that stillness, you both knew what this was—this simple act of being together, of creating something from scratch and waiting patiently for it to turn into something beautiful.

As the pie baked away in the oven, the comforting scent of cinnamon and apples filling the air, you and Bradley exchanged a look. It was time for a well-deserved break, and after the cozy chaos of the kitchen, a few moments of relaxation felt like a gift.

"Think we deserve a little treat?" Bradley asked, pulling off his apron and tossing it onto the counter with a soft thud.

You grinned. "You mean besides the pie? Absolutely."

With a quick nod, you both headed off to your shared room, shedding the remnants of the afternoon in exchange for something far more comfortable. The soft rustle of fabric filled the air as you pulled on your favorite pajamas, an oversized t shirt that had once been Bradley's before you stole it, still soft despite the stretched out neckline from years of use, and a pair of comfortable flannel pyjama pants that were just soft enough to give you comfort, filled with memories of quiet nights just like this one. Bradley appeared moments later, also in his own set of pajamas—flannel pants and a simple black tee that made him look effortlessly at home.

"Much better," he said, tossing a pillow onto the couch before plopping down next to it.

You laughed and followed him, curling into him as the warmth of the oven continued to fill the room and the scent of cinnamon wafted from the kitchen to your beautiful living room. "Alright, what are we feeling? Chinese takeout? Or... pizza?"

"Chinese," Bradley answered almost instantly, his hands already reaching for his phone to dial the number. "Nothing beats Chinese on a night like this."

You smiled, nodding in agreement. “I’m with you. The crispy spring rolls, and fried rice, it’s all calling my name.” you sighed happily, a little drunk on how effortlessly perfect the moment was with him.

He grabbed you by the hips, pulling you into him so you were straddling him, legs on either side of his waist. His hands gently trailed down your back, squeezing your hips as he rocked you forward, meeting your lips in a passionate kiss. His lips were soft and warm, and the kiss was heady in the best way. As he gently stroked your tongue with his, he let his hand drop to the curve of your ass, squeezing and palming the flesh through your pyjamas, the thin material pressing against your core in a way that had you gasping. As his tongue explored your mouth, you let your hands run down the muscled planes of his chest, hard and toned even under his t shirt, gently raking patterns with your nails and grinding your hips against his hips. His hand settled on your ass, cupping the flesh softly as he ran his fingers softly between. He drew back to inhale deeply, sighing happily at the sight of your swollen lips. He placed a final indulgent kiss on your swollen lips, pulling your lip between his teeth to watch it snap back in place.

You couldn't help but smile, gently tickling his side as he scooped you up to lay you down properly, grabbing your favourite couch blanket as you opened netflix on the TV.

As Bradley placed the order, you grabbed the remote, flicking through the shows to find something easy and comforting. "How about we throw on a Friends marathon? It’s been forever since I’ve watched it."

Bradley looked over, his eyes lighting up with recognition. "Now you're speaking my language." He paused for a beat. "You know, I’ve always thought I’d be a Chandler in another life."

You raised an eyebrow at him, a teasing smirk tugging at your lips. “Oh really? I can see that. The sarcastic humor. The… awkwardness.”

“Hey!” he protested, nudging you with his elbow. “I’m not that awkward.”

“Right,” you said with a grin, leaning back into the couch cushions. “You’ve definitely got a little Ross in you too, but more… cool.”

Bradley laughed, shaking his head. “Alright, alright, but if I’m Ross, you’re definitely Monica. All that organization and competitiveness.”

You looked at him with a mock gasp, “How dare you? I’m not competitive.” But you both burst into laughter as the familiar opening credits of Friends played, the theme song a nostalgic reminder of countless nights spent laughing at the same jokes.

Bradley got up to fetch a bottle of red wine he had picked up a few weeks ago exactly for a night like this, along with two wine glasses with purple and red wine charms you had bought when you first moved in. He poured you a glass of the Sauvignon, watching with a content smile as you swirled it around your glass and took a happy sit, complimenting it with a sweet kiss to his lips.

The doorbell rang just as you settled in, and Bradley jumped up, a little too eager to grab the takeout. As he brought the steaming containers into the living room, you both made room on the coffee table, the food’s scent mingling with the still-warm aroma of the pie in the oven.

With takeout and your favorite show queued up, the evening stretched out in front of you like a peaceful, uninterrupted pause. There was no rush, no deadlines—just the quiet comfort of the moment, with laughter, familiar food, and a freshly baked pie in the oven.

Bradley fed you bites of food and the two of you chatted about mundane things that felt extraordinarily special when you spoke about them with Bradley. Growing up together, you had little to no secrets from each other, but the level of domesticity being in a relationship and living together had brought you had you dreaming of a life with him, a picket fence and kids, dogs and cats, a classic life you hadn't allowed yourself to dream of.

But now, as he fed you a bite of his spring roll and stole a sip of wine from your glass and placated you with a chaste kiss to your lips, your dream had turned to a reality.

The timer’s soft chime echoed through the kitchen, and with it, a rush of anticipation. The pie had finished its long journey in the oven, and as you opened the door, the golden crust greeted you like an old friend. The edges were perfectly crisp, the apples inside caramelized and bubbling with sweet warmth. The kitchen seemed to hum with the quiet satisfaction of a job well done.

Bradley was already standing by, his gaze soft as he watched you take the pie out, the aroma mingling with the last traces of cinnamon and sugar. “Looks perfect,” he murmured, his voice low with the kind of affection only shared in the quiet moments.

You turned to him with a grin. “I think you’re right. This might just be the best one yet.”

With care, you slid the pie onto a cooling rack, and together you waited those precious few minutes before slicing it. You cut into the soft, tender layers, the filling slightly bubbling over as you pulled the first piece onto a plate.

Bradley, ever the gentleman, grabbed the whipped cream from the fridge and dolloped a generous spoonful on top, the cold cream melting slightly against the warm pie. He handed it to you, his fingers brushing against yours in the exchange.

“You first,” he said, his smile warm, a little teasing, but filled with sweetness.

You took the fork, the bite of warm pie and cold cream almost too perfect, the sweetness settling on your tongue like a promise. Bradley’s eyes followed you, a quiet contentment settling over him as he waited for your reaction.

“Good?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

You nodded, savoring the moment. “Perfect.”

And then, without a word, you held the fork out to him, offering him a taste. His eyes softened as he took the bite, the simple act of sharing something so intimate almost more than either of you could put into words. You fed each other in silence, the only sound being the soft scrape of forks against plates, the occasional hum of contentment escaping both of you.

Between bites, the pauses were filled with quiet laughter, shared glances, and soft kisses—quick, sweet pecks that made the world outside the kitchen seem distant, as though this small moment was the only one that mattered. Your lips met between forkfuls of pie, the taste of apples and cinnamon mixing with the sweetness of each kiss, a quiet rhythm that only deepened the sense of domestic bliss.

Bradley’s hand found its way to the back of your neck, his fingers brushing the soft skin there as he pulled you in for another kiss. It was slow this time, lingering, the warmth of the pie forgotten as you melted into the softness of each other’s embrace. You let the moment stretch, taking it all in—the cozy kitchen, the warmth between you, the simple sweetness of pie, and the quiet joy of being together.

When the last bite of pie was finished, the plates were left behind, forgotten, as the two of you curled up together on the couch. The kitchen had long fallen quiet, save for the steady hum of the world outside. But inside, in the gentle glow of the evening, it was just you and him—a perfect little moment, wrapped in love, pie, and a thousand unspoken promises.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n : merry christmas everyone! wishing you all love and peace! ❤️ would you like a series on how bradley and childhood best friend!reader got together? do let me know!! as always, likes , comments, reblogs etc are always appreciated!!

TAGS

general : @roslastyles420 @hopefulinlove @bluesongbird-blog

top gun : @gretagerwigsmuse

TO BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST SEND ME AN ASK OR A DM SPECIFYING WHICH FANDOM ❤️

[lieutenantfloyd]

A Wonderful Life - Cyclone x Reader

Word Count: 1.0k

Summary: After years of blissful marriage to your lovably stoic husband Beau, you think you have learned all there is to know about him. That is until you come home early from Christmas shopping and discover his best-kept secret.

Warnings: nothing but pure domestic fluff.

Authors Note: Merry Christmas and happy holidays, y'all!

Read on AO3

You hum softly as you unlock and push open the front door, arms heavy with bags full of presents from today’s Christmas shopping spree. It may be seventy degrees and sunny in San Diego, but that doesn’t stop your holiday cheer one bit. 

You kick off your shoes and set the bags in the entry way, the faint sounds of a movie playing on TV spilling into the room.  Your husband Beau rarely deviated from his routine, and that included working countless hours every week to ensure everything on base was up to his standards and running smoothly. A soft flash of worry shot through you as you wondered why he was home so early. Had something happened? Yet as you step further into your home, that worry melts into wintery confusion.

Beau sat stretched out on the couch, his expression as focused and stoic as ever as his eyes stayed glued to the screen. He hadn’t made notice of you yet, and with his reflexes that was a surprise. What was even more shocking, however, was the intensity of which he was watching the picture perfect couple competing in a gingerbread house competing. You blinked a few times, completely bewildered by the sight of your reserved and practical husband spending his rare bit of alone time watching a Hallmark Christmas movie.

You padded closer, newly bought gifts all but abandoned in the foyer behind you as you bite back a massive smile. He still hadn’t noticed you, his hands laced and resting against his ribs as if he was looking over schematics or watching one of those documentaries on the History channel he loved so much.

“Invested in the magic of Christmas miracles now, are we?” you tease gently, finally breaking the silence —and his heavy concentration.

Beau jumps at your voice, scrambling for the remote and grumbling under his breath as he realizes he’s been caught red handed.

“I didn’t you’d be home yet,” he mutters, pointedly shutting off the TV and turning to you with a mildly unimpressed look.

You spring forward, plucking the remote from his hand and clicking the power button once more, letting the sounds of the movie fill the air once again.

“You’re not getting out of this.”

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Beau says with a scowl, his voice as deep and controlled as ever. He sits back, crossing his arms over his chest in an attempt to maintain a bit of his sternness that’s now been ruined by your early return.

“You’re a terrible liar,” you tease, dropping onto the couch and putting your legs over his lap. Your eyes go to the screen, watching in amusement as the main characters put the finishing touches on their opulent gingerbread house, the female lead focused on frosting while the—apparently grumpy—man watches her with a flicker of adoration in his eyes. 

“So, were you enjoying yourself?”

Beau groans, rubbing his temples as he gathers his defense. “I was flipping channels,” he says, a bit of resignation breaking through in his voice

“Sure honey,” you say, glancing back to him pointedly, “And if all of the options, this channel happened to be the one to catch your attention?”

Beau exhaled a half hearted sigh, looking at you with that mix of exasperation and affection he always wore around you.

“I don’t like being chastised over my viewing habits in my own home.”

You grinned triumphantly and leaned your head against his shoulder as he all but admitted to it, intentionally or not. 

He huffs again, knowing exactly what’s going through your mind but putting an arm around your waist and tugging you closer anyway.

“They’re ridiculous,” he grumbled, “there's no real stakes to the plot, everyone’s too happy,  and every problem gets solved with a snowball fight and a kiss.”

“Exactly,” you smile as you reach for his hand, “it’s fun, low stakes fluff to make you feel good.”

Beau glances at you, his hard expression softening just a hair. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t pull away either. Instead, he shifts slightly, making more room for you and opening his blanket for you to cuddle up beside him. You take the invitation instantly, tucking her legs under the cover and snuggling up to his side with a soft hum.

“Okay,” you say with a grin after a few moments, “so what’s this one about?”

Beau sighs, but you don’t miss the shine of humor in his dark blue eyes.

“It’s the same as always. City girl is back in her hometown for Christmas and meets a guy with a failing business who for some reason or another needs a wife. They bake cookies and don’t communicate with each other, then kiss in the snow when they realize they’re—for some reason—head over heels in love two days after they first met.”

You laugh, putting a hand on his chest as your eyes drift to the screen, 

“And yet here you are, watching it.”

“You weren’t home,” he scoffs, leaning down to place a kiss to your forehead, “so I figured I’d see what all the fuss was about.”

“And your verdict?” You smile. 

“I plead the fifth,” he sighs, his voice low but his eyes warm as he sits back comfortably and glances over at you.

“Mhm,” you tease as the movie continues, “your secret is safe with me—though we both know you love a happy ending.”

Beau rolls his eyes but doesn’t reply. Instead, his arm draws tighter around you as the couple on screen shares their first kiss—in the snow, just like he predicted.

It wasn’t often that he let his guard down at all, but especially like this. You take note of the uncharacteristically relaxed demeanor he carries, as if now unbothered by the weight of the world, and lean into him on instinct. 

The soft glow of the Christmas lights he’d helped you string across the tree reflect over you both, and for a second he didn’t look like the no-nonsense man who took to even the smallest tasks with military precision. Right now he was just a man—fully content with life and with someone by his side who had always seen his good heart through his cold exterior—finally letting himself feel the spirit of the season.

taglist: @marchingicenotes7 @bayisdying @princessofglitterland @bella-law @callsignaries @oliviah-25 @luckyladycreator2 @shakira-sasha @xoxabs88xox @alexxavicry @madamemelancholysstuff @paola-carter @barbiewritesstuff @dozcan123 @withakindheartx @nyx2021 @teti-menchon0604 @kmc1989

[echoric]

i have so many wips to finish but cowboy icemav are like sirens whispering in my mind's ear

[topgunruinedme]

Ice: we were in a prank war? Is that why my socks kept going missing and I kept finding you nakard in my backyard?

Mav: yes???? It was all for the joke.

Ice: I’m in love with you. Mav: We called off the prank war last night at midnight, dork. Ice: I know. Mav: Ah. Okay. Um. Cool. Neat. Very cool. Cool. Cool. Coolcoolcool-

[mxrcusflint]

immoral in your lap

hangster, here is 7.5k of straight filth, happy holidays! heed the tags Between stretches of months on different deployments, they line up their leaves to meet for days of wretched, mind-blowing sex which always leaves Bradley jelly-legged and chasing the next hit. 5+1 times Jake takes Bradley apart the way he needs. read on AO3

[echoingbirdsofprey]

Delicate (Jake's Version)

20 - Jake's Honor

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OFC Samantha Kazansky

Rating: Explicit (MDNI!)

Warnings: nothing spectacular really just mentions of Jake's injuries and his mental state

A/N: Merry Christmas! More coming soon! As always, likes, comments, reblogs are very appreciated! Thanks for reading! It means a ton! The doggos steal the show a bit here! 'Platz' is the german command for 'place' also

Tags: @mrsevans90 @djs8891 @gpsmississippihippie @barnesboo1967

Jake decided it was best to put a shirt on before Mav and Cyclone arrived. He was only joking with Sam about not doing so. She helped him take his sling off and carefully pulled the shirt over his arm and over his head. He winced a few times in the process, trying hard not to move his arm around too much. 

Sam helped him settle on the couch afterwards, along with the dogs. Ballast snuggled up right next to him. Rocco hung out by his feet and Muster tentatively hopped on the couch and sat as far away as she could from Jake. It wasn't that the girl pup didn't like him, she did, she was just timid. She definitely gravitated toward Sam more. 

“This morning is nice. Slow...easy.” Jake murmured as Sam sat down next to him with a cup of hot tea. She tried her best to not lean into him too much as his sling arm was closest to her. 

“Yeah. We don't have to go anywhere until late afternoon.” Sam said, as Muster crawled across the couch to sit next to her. Sam had learned to ignore the puppy and let her come over in her own time. As she practiced that more, it was less and less time each day that Muster took to come over to Sam. She would shy away from Jake unless Sam was near him. Muster nudged her way onto Sam's lap and Jake reached his hand over to touch her little nose to it. She did so and whined, but then climbed in between Sam and Jake and sat there.

“She's so funny. Don't think she likes men.” Jake said softly, reaching over again to scratch Muster with one finger. She was much smaller than Ballast and Jake had noticed that making large gestures or holding his entire hand out bothered her. The door bell rang then. Rocco, being the nosy little fur missile he was, went bolting toward the door and barking, followed by Ballast, who bounded behind him. Muster glanced at Jake and climbed up to see over the back of the couch. She growled softly and Jake scratched her back. 

“She likes you and Javy. Guess we’ll find out if she likes Mav and Beau.” Sam said, placing her cup on the small coffee table and going to open the door. “Rocco and Ballast, back. Sit.” Sam said sternly and both dogs backed up and sat while she opened the door. Beau entered first, hugging Sam and then stepping aside so that Maverick could enter and do the same. The two dogs waited patiently with their tails wagging. Rocco knew both men well from them always visiting her father and Ballast just followed what he did. 

“How are you doing, sweetheart?” Beau asked, his brows furrowed with concern. 

“I'm good. Really good actually. Really happy that Jake is home.” She said and she guided them over to the living room, offering them a spot on the other couch perpendicular to where Jake was sitting. Jake went to stand but Beau motioned for him to stay seated and held his hand out for him to shake. Maverick did the same. 

“No need to get up, Lieutenant. You need your rest.” Beau said as he and Maverick sat on the other couch. Sam had released the other two dogs from their sit and they followed her. Muster growled and shrank back against Jake. They paid no mind to the puppy per Jake's request. 

“Something to drink, Beau? Mav?” She asked and Beau asked for a coffee while Maverick said he was all set. Sam put on a fresh pot of coffee, surmising he may ask for a second cup depending on how long they stayed. 

“How's everything going. Jake?” Sam heard Beau ask. 

“Really good. As long as I keep it up I should be air worthy in about three months. That's what the doctor said, at least.”

“Good, good. And you've been seeing Ryker? He's an old friend of ours. Great pilot.”

“Yeah, he's helping us with the dogs. It's good for me to have something I can do without too much physical strain. We have a session this afternoon, actually.”

Sam handed Beau his coffee and she picked up her tea and Jake patted the seat beside him. She wasn't going to stay but she glanced over at Beau and Mav and they nodded an okay so she did. Muster crawled onto her lap as she sat and then began to sniff the air toward Mav and Beau.

“Don't mind her, she's...” Jake began and then Muster hopped down from the couch and snuck over to Beau and Maverick. She rolled onto her belly at their feet and Maverick reached down to rub her belly.

“She's just shy around guys. She's funny with Ryker too even though they raised her. I think her mom was like that, if I remember correctly.” Sam explained.

“She loves you though.” Jake said, leaning closer to Sam, letting his lips turn up into a gentle smile. His green eyes lit up as she glanced from the puppy to him and he forgot for a second that Mav and Beau were sitting there.

“Jake.” Maverick's voice cut through his thoughts and he sighed heavily as his attention went back to him and Beau. Muster had enough of Maverick and she'd run back to Sam, hopping up in between her and Jake. 

“We wanted to discuss what's next for you.” Beau said and Jake nodded, uncertainty in his expression. Beau continued, after taking a long sip of his coffee and a deep breath. “You've shown an immense amount of growth, not only on the job, but outside of it, as noted by your colleagues and superior officers. It's been discussed between several of us and we believe that in addition to awarding you a Navy Cross for your outstanding display of valor and sacrifice to save Rooster...you are also being fast tracked for a promotion in rank.” 

Jake's eyes widened. His lips thinned and his breath quickened. His gaze fell upon Sam who clearly knew something he didn't as her smile was soft and her eyes reflected appreciation for him. All that talk of him getting promoted, becoming an Admiral, moving up the ranks...did she know he was getting a promotion? There was a smugness in her expression that said she did. 

“A Navy Cross, sir?” Jake asked, disbelief evident as Beau smiled warmly at him.

“We'd like to present it to you at the upcoming Navy Birthday Ball, figuring you'd be out of your sling by then?” Beau said and Jake shook his head. Beau spoke again, not waiting for Jake to reply. “As far as your promotion goes to Lieutenant Commander, until you're air worthy, you'll be given an office on base from which to work from and you can begin to learn more of the administrative and operational parts that you need to know as being a higher ranking officer. It's not all flying and combat maneuvers. There's some paperwork too.”

“Sir...I am...” Jake was actually speechless. Beau smiled and let a small chuckle slip. Maverick smiled too.

“No need to say anything, Jake. You deserve it. Your team wouldn't be here without you. Rooster wouldn't be here without you. You've really grown as a leader. And if I may...from a personal perspective...and as someone who had...and still has...great respect for Iceman...I'd never heard him say that he felt that anyone deserved his daughter as much as you did.” Beau said, and there was a moment of heavy silence that fell over the room. Sam swallowed hard and glanced at Jake, remembering the night before her father passed vividly. 

“Daddy, don’t speak.” Sam said, placing her hand over Ice’s.

“No...I...have to...Samantha...need you...to know...” Ice’s voice was gravelly and he took shallow breaths between each word. He coughed hard, and squeezed her hand.

“Dad...” Sam’s voice broke, on the verge of tears.

“Jake...will...take care...of you...I know...he’s...a good man...good pilot.” He rasped and then he dissolved into a coughing fit and tears fell down Sam’s cheeks as she sat down on the edge of the bed. She laid her head on Ice’s chest, listening to his heart beat rapidly and the crackling in his lungs. 

She stayed there for a while until he fell asleep and her mother came in. Sam rose, kissed her father on the forehead, feeling his skin was cooler than usual. Sam’s heart sank. Sarah pulled her into a hug and told her to go to bed. Sam nodded and went to her room, Rocco padding along silently. She checked her phone, a smile returning to her face as she read the only text.

Jake: goodnight pretty girl, see you tomorrow

Sam was all too aware of the tears running down her cheeks, as Jake wiped them with his free hand. Beau and Maverick had bowed their heads, the loss of her father still too raw a feeling for them all. Beau was the first to speak after the pause.

“With all of that being said, Jake...if you're feeling up to it in a week or so, no rush, you can come by the base and Warlock and I will show you where your office would be. I would also like to discuss opportunities for teaching as well. Even if it's something you're not up to now, maybe you would be down the line. We like to give our best pilots a go at instructing. I believe you would be a good candidate for it.” Beau explained and he finished what was left of his coffee. Sam stood and took his cup, motioning for more but he dismissed it. “We should be getting back to base. Thank you for giving us your time. Rest up and we'll see you soon.” Beau said and he shook Jake's hand and then Maverick did as well. As Beau headed toward the door, Jake stopped Mav for a moment.

“Sir, when you get the chance, could we have a chat about Rooster? I'd like your thoughts on him. He's having a hard time accepting some things and I just don't know how to approach him with it all. I figured you might have the best insight on that.” Jake asked and Maverick nodded.

“Yeah. He's stubborn. It's why he and Sam never really got along. We’ll talk soon.” Mav said, placing a hand on Jake’s shoulder and patting him. He hugged Sam as he left and once they were out the door, Jake sighed and collapsed on the couch again. Sam went over, dogs all behind her and settled beside him once more.

“You okay?” She asked and he nodded.

“You knew.” Jake said, with a smile but a slightly accusatory tone. Sam laughed.

“Nat told me she overheard them talking about it. I didn't know you’d be getting an office though. Damn.” She said and he reached for her, pulling her against him. He winced, but he didn’t care at the moment. 

“I told you I’m gonna take care of you...just maybe not in the way I had originally thought or planned. But it’ll work out.” Jake said. Sam kissed him and then she placed her head on his lap.

“I know you will.” She affirmed softly. 

🛩️🛩️🛩️

Jake was struggling. 

“Take a breath, Jake. Go sit on the steps for a moment.” Ryker said, motioning for him to walk away. They had been going through a sequence of commands with Maddox and Jake understood it immediately, and of course Maddox knew exactly what to do, but when it came to Ballast, the puppy seemed like he wasn't getting it. 

Jake sat on the steps of the deck and he watched as Ryker brought the puppy through the small obstacle course, with ease. The goal was to build Ballast's confidence jumping onto and off of some small tables, across a narrow beam, and over a teeter totter. 

“I don't understand what I'm doing wrong.” Jake said, his tone annoyed as he rubbed his hand over his face. 

“He's just not trusting you. He can do it. He just doesn't think you think he can. It's hard to lure and offer to catch him with one hand.” Ryker explained and Jake sighed.

“I hate this sling. I can't do anything.” Jake scoffed. Ryker took a second and asked Ballast to place on one of the tables and walked over to Jake. Jake looked up at the man and shook his head. “I'm not going to be able to do some of this stuff until I have two arms again.” 

“That's your doubt talking. Happens to people who lose their limbs too. You haven't lost a limb, Jake. You just need to think of a different way to use it.” Ryker explained, holding his hand out to help Jake up. Jake took it and stood, sighing as he headed back over to his puppy, who looked expectantly at him from his place on the table. Ryker took Jake's seat and folded his arms across his chest then spoke. “Get creative, use that head of yours and find a solution. Same thing you'd do up in a jet.”

Jake stood for a moment, Ballast’s eyes trained on him. He placed the food in his immobile hand. He got close to Ballast and let him see that the treat was in that hand. He then placed his other hand on the puppy’s back and asked Ballast to go through the obstacles again. Ballast went over both tables easily, and then came to the teeter totter. He stepped on it and felt it unsteady and went to jump down but Jake grabbed him and asked him to lie down for a moment.

“Platz.” Jake said sternly, and ran his hand over the puppy’s back. He then said ‘yes’ enthusiastically and Ballast began to follow him across the teeter totter. Jake asked him to place once again at the center and he held it still. He said ‘yes’ again and then asked him to complete the obstacle. Jake was ecstatic and he sat down next to Ballast, who jumped into his arms and nibbled at his chin in excitement. “You did it, buddy!”

“No Jake, you did it. You both did. But you figured out a way to build that dog's confidence and I like the way you did it. You could be real good at this if you keep it up.” Ryker praised Jake and clapped a hand on his shoulder. 

Jake was starting to feel a bit better about himself.

[brendaonao3]

Author: Brenda Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Top Gun (Movies) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Word Count: 5065 Relationships: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell Characters: Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky, Rick "Hollywood" Neven, Ron "Slider" Kerner Additional Tags: POV Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Movie: Top Gun (1986), Post-Canon, Secret Relationship, Angst and Feels, Hopeful Ending, Introspection, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell Needs A Hug, Reunions, Reunion Sex Summary:

"How long's it been?" The this time was unspoken, but Mav still heard it loud and clear.

"Two years?" Mav said it like a question, even though he knew to the day how much time had passed since they'd laid eyes on each other. Two years, two months, twelve days. Shit, if he thought about it, he could have added in the minutes and seconds.

(Or: Ice and Mav reunite at Viper's retirement party)

[megalony]

You Called My Wife?

This is a new Jake Seresin imagine, my first request for Jake and I hope you will all like it. Please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro

Masterlist

Summary: The Dagger squad don't know much about Jake's personal life. And when he gets hurt during an exercise, they are surprised who comes to look after him.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reaching into his back pocket, Jake pulled out the pair of sunglasses he had been carrying around with him for the last few weeks. The sun here back at home was intense and he couldn't stand the migraines it gave him. Even when he was up in the air, he often had his sunglasses on. He didn't care about the way the glasses pinched his ears or gave him splitting pains in the sides of his neck.

If Bob could wear his prescription glasses to see, then Jake could wear his sunglasses to stop him squinting so much and relieve the headaches he got that were becoming chronic.

His hands fell to his hips once his visors were perched on the bridge of his nose and he looked around.

It hadn't taken Jake nearly as long as he thought to complete his physical. They were doing physical assessments and training every other day to get them ready for their next assignment. They were going to be going against gravity, travelling up to G9 range and it would cause problems with breathing, taking in oxygen and could starve their brains for a few seconds, if not longer.

They all needed to be at their best physically and mentally to prepare for this and up to now, Jake was ready and rearing to go.

Today was training exercises on the ground rather than in the air. They were all doing different activities and now that Jake was rejoining the rest of the squad after his physical, he was supposed to be doing safety and maintenance checks.

He took a look around the open air field. Bradley was over to one side, looking like he was trying to do some physical exercises, but he kept stopping to quietly argue with Maverick who was following him around like a dark, looming shadow. Jake wasn't going to be going over there. He noticed Phoenix and Bob were at their aircraft in the middle of their maintenance. While Coyote was off to one side doing pushups; he had messed up somewhere if that was his punishment. And Jake had already passed Fanboy who was on his way for his own physical.

He busied himself finding one of the clipboards and he jogged over to his aircraft, smiling and patting his hand against the bulk like it was an old friend he was meeting up with.

He circled the aircraft like a vulture, checking the wings, the engines- which had had a run in with a flock of birds two days ago which Jake had been lucky hadn't completely ruined his left engine. He checked the wheels and made sure they were all clipped and chained down so the craft wasn't going anywhere without him.

Once all the outside checks were done, he climbed up the ladder and hopped inside.

It always felt weird to sit in the plane without his proper flight suit or his signature red helmet, but he wasn't going anywhere today. He was only turning the engine on to check everything was working and making sure he got all the right responses to show he would be ready for whatever training exercise he had to go out on next.

He slouched back in the seat, spreading his knees apart with the clipboard in front of him and the pen twisting between his fingers.

After ticking a few boxes, Jake tilted his head back and poised the pen behind his ear while his hand shifted to undo the first button on his uniform. He slid his hand beneath his shirt until his fingers found the familiar silver chain hanging around his neck.

He imbedded the ring into his palm that hung on the end of the chain, always tapping and jostling against his chest whenever he moved.

It felt safer to have his wedding ring on his chain rather than his finger. If he had any accidents and needed to be taken for a scan or for surgery, they would cut his ring off. Rings got in the way, jewellery got in the way and got lost but a chain around his neck was private and secure and more importantly, Jake had that ring as close to his heart as possible.

A soft look crossed his face as he brought his hand to his mouth and kissed the ring that had created a halo indent in the centre of his hand.

"I'll be home soon." He murmured against the ring as a picture of (Y/n) flashed before his eyes.

The last deployment Jake had been on had almost killed him. Three and a half months away from home. Three and a half months where he couldn't see, touch or feel his wife in his arms or have her lips against his or her body pressed up against his own. All he got were a few brief phone calls or five minutes of faceTime every other day, if he wasn't being shipped straight out from dawn until dusk.

He was much happier here where he could spend each night in his own bed, safe in his home with his wife. He didn't have to sleep alone or feel like he was going insane from having absolutely no physical touch or contact with (Y/n). Never before had Jake thought or believed in having withdrawal symptoms for another human being until he got married and had to face the prospect of leaving (Y/n) behind.

When he was done with his checks, Jake heaved himself up to his feet and climbed down back to level ground again.

He waved his clipboard up and down in front of his face like a fan, relishing the slight breeze it created to his melting skin. If he were back home in this heat his shirt would already be off and he would be lounging around in a pair of shorts. Or be would be on the beach in this weather. Either of those thoughts sounded very appealing right now.

He stood still for a few moments, taking in his surroundings and wondering what the next task would be, but his mind kept wandering off to the girl waiting at home for him. Exactly where he wanted to be right now.

"Bob, are you almost done?" Phoenix tilted her head back with an exasperated sigh, one hand clamped around her hip as she the other held onto the ladder Bob was perched on top of.

He was filling up their aircraft with fuel, they had half a tank but it was better to be safe than sorry because they didn't know how long they would be out on their next flight exercise. The last thing they needed was to be marked down and sent to do two hundred push ups because they thought half a tank would be sufficient.

"Almost." His voice was as passive as ever while he swiped his arm across his temple, wiping away the beads of sweat glistening in the afternoon sun.

"Bob, come on we've got other stuff to do."

He didn't know what happened.

One moment Bob was pushing his glasses further up his nose, rolling his eyes at his impatient partner calling up the orders below him. But the next, a shockwave was rattling up the ladder he was perched on and set him off balance.

His hands scrambled to steady himself before he fell off and he subsequently dropped the fuel line that had been in his right hand just as he unclipped it from the air craft that was now fuelled up. Bob scrambled for balance, bashing his legs into the side of the plane and earning a cut down his left forearm that scraped along a jagged edge on the ladder.

But it was the fuel line he was concerned with. It wasn't like filling up a car at the fuel station. The air crafts were large with tanks high up at the back. They had to use large funnel lines that looked like double sized garden hoses with a large round metal clip on the end the size of Bob's hand. That metal created a sizzling sound that sliced through the air when he dropped it.

The line swooped through the air like a bird trying to land but Bob could of cried when he heard a sickening crunch below him. He didn't want to imagine what it collided with- who, it collided with. His eyes snapped closed and he clung to the ladder, trying to gain his balance back so he didn't fall and break an arm or a leg.

The resounding crack echoed around the base and shuddered through everyone within close range. It was a sound no one expected to echo through the open air like that, it travelled far and wide and had everyone coiling in on the spot.

The metal end of the fuel line pelted down, gaining strength and speed as it swung past the ladder, lifted slightly into the air and smacked straight into the right side of Jake's head. Upon impact, his sunglasses snapped and flung off his nose and took flight on a course of their own, six feet across the base.

An awful crack shuddered through Jake's ears and rattled through his head as his eyes automatically snapped closed and his shoulders hunched up. Both arms recoiled into his chest as his clipboard slipped through his fingers that twitched and spasmed, unsure what to do as his body seemed to shutdown and recalibrate all at once.

The force sent his head snapping backwards until his neck got whiplash and his body followed his head's sense of direction, thrusting backwards until he landed harshly on the concrete floor.

Shockwaves rattled through his body causing his legs to shake and spasm out against the floor as if he was kicking and throwing a tantrum and all the air left his lungs when his back hit the floor. It took a few seconds for his diaphragm to loosen and allow his lungs to take in a deep breath, but when he did, a choked moan escaped his lips.

It felt like he'd been shot in the head.

He could feel his pulse throbbing through his temple and circulating all around the circumference of his head like someone pelting round a relay race. He could feel his veins throbbing and the blood steadily trickling down the right side of his face. The feeling of blood oozing down the bridge of his nose and around his eye socket made his nose scrunch up in disgust.

His hands curled and twisted against his chest, desperate to move but the sudden onset of trembling in his bones made it impossible for Jake to coordinate his body properly.

The trembling continued even as Jake suddenly realised he couldn't hear anything around him. He couldn't open his eyes. No sounds broke through the static barrier building up in his ears. He had no control over moving a single part of his body. It felt like his head had been severed from the rest of his body.

"Jesus Bob, what the Hell?!" Bradley spun on his heels and made into a sprint towards the three of them, Maverick hot on his heels.

The sight of Jake, laid out on his back, body overwrought with trembles and blood pooling steadily down one side of his face was a sickening sight none of them ever wanted to witness.

"I wasn't- didn't you see the ladder?" Bob hissed like a snake as he shakily slid down the ladder onto unsteady feet.

His hands began to rake up and down his thighs, wiping the sweat onto his trousers as his glasses started to fall down the bridge of his nose. He hadn't done that on purpose. He didn't just let go of the fuel line; Phoenix bashed into the ladder and knocked him off course. He would have fallen if he didn't scramble for his balance. It could just as easily have been Bob's head split open if he fell the other way or completely lost his footing on the ladder.

"I'm sorry-"

A groan spluttered past Jake's lips and stopped all their ramblings. He managed to curl his fingers around the middle of his shirt and he scrunched it up in his fists as tightly as possible. His legs continued to thrash against the floor but when he tried to open his eyes, he couldn't seem to do it.

"Oh God." He tried his best to reach his hand up towards his head but he could barely lift either arm from trembling against his chest.

Without his glasses that had been broken and flung off somewhere on the base, the sun was beating down on him with unwavering strength. His right eye was blinking furiously to try and stop the blood from getting into his eyes that were rolling to the back of his head that was pounding like a drum.

"Everyone shut up." Maverick's voice snapped through the air like a whip and stopped all their ramblings at once.

He crouched down beside Jake with Bradley on his other side with Bob and Phoenix hovering anxiously in the background and Coyote running over at the sound of commotion.

The wound looked bad. Maverick tilted Jake's head back and tried to touch his hairline to get a proper look. A large slash line went from his hairline towards his eyebrow and the skin had been split apart so neatly it looked like it had been cut with a sharp knife. Blood oozed out in every direction and splattered across Jake's temple and down his nose towards both his eyes like a jam donut had been tossed at his head.

He couldn't see his skull or any bone which was a good sign, but the blunt force could have been enough to crack his skull and give him a fracture. He most definitely had a concussion which meant he could have side effects.

He could start throwing up, he could black out or go fully unconscious, he could have a seizure if the impact was bad enough.

"Get him down to the medbay now." With a click of his hand over to the left, Coyote hurried forward and knelt down behind Jake while Bradley shuffled forward.

The pair of them carefully took one of Jake's arms each and looped them around the back of their necks.

"Alright, up. Let's get you up Hangman." Bradley looped his right arm around Jake's waist while his left hand gripped Jake's wrist. He held his breath and slowly pushed up onto his feet, slowly pulling Jake with him who looked very worse for wear.

Jake's head flopped forward as soon as he was sitting up. He groaned again, spluttering through a moan, spit forming on his lips and blood still trickling down his face. He could feel the shock setting in because even his neck was shaking now and once he was on his feet, his knees wavered and his legs felt oddly heavy and useless. He could barely stay upright and when his knees gave way, he slumped down like he was trying to sit on an imaginary chair.

His hands scrunched down around Coyote and Bradley's shoulders as each of them held his waist and kept him up on his feet.

Both Jake's feet bent awkwardly and the toes of his shoes scraped against the floor as the pair of them dragged him slowly towards the open hanger doors. He tried to move his legs and he did somewhat help them, but he relied on them to drag him along because he felt like collapsing to the floor and curling up into a ball.

He managed to find the will to open his eyes once they were inside, but the sight of the tiled floor disappearing and all the lines blurring before his eyes made his head swoon.

He found his eyes rolling around in his skull before he jolted forward with a croaky "Gonna puke."

True to his word, Jake tossed up his lunch the moment the boys paused in their quick shuffle towards the medbay. He felt a little better after that and he managed to lift his head once the three of them began their awkward tandem walk together.

By the time they were near the medic bay, Jake managed to place one foot in front of the other. He did an awkward walk and started to help them so they didn't have to heave him the whole way there.

"We've had an accident. The fuel line cracked Hangman straight in the temple and knocked him out. He threw up on the way down here." Bradley looked between the two medics idling around and waited for one of them to point towards the bed in the left corner of the large bunker space.

They trotted to the left and turned around, carefully easing Jake down until he was sat in the middle of the bed.

He felt more alive and a bit better once he was sat down. His head flopped back until the base of his head was touching the back of his shoulders and his shaking hands gripped the edge of the bed with intensity to keep himself sitting upright. It took all his effort to stop himself trembling and he tried to take deep breaths to ward off the sickness and the wave of dizziness that overwhelmed him.

"Okay Seresin, let's take a look."

Coyote and Bradley backed up until they were stood to one side. Neither of them fancied going back outside to finish off their exercises when Jake didn't look in his best shape. They would rather wait here to make sure he was alright and then head back to the rest of the team and tell them how he was fairing up. It was clear that Jake would be going home early today, he was lucky not to have been killed with that force, there was no way he was carrying on with any work today after this.

Jake begrudgingly lifted his head when one of the doctors stood in front of him. He let the man hold his chin and tilt his head from side to side to assess the damage and when he shone a pen light across his eyes, Jake winced.

A frightful yelp left his lips when the man tried to touch the wound and he reeled back with a groan.

"Afraid I'm gonna need an X-ray before I can stitch it. I'll clean the wound and get you some painkillers first." They were lucky the wound was on his head as they had a small, portable X-ray scanner in the back room they could use just to double check they didn't have to send him to hospital for urgent treatment. But if it looked okay, he could get some pain relief, be stitched up and sent home for the day.

"Great." Jake winced, trying to form a lopsided smile, but he couldn't quite manage it.

At least he would get to go home earlier than he thought.

***

"Hey," Bob groaned as sweat dripped off his body and onto a small puddle forming on the stone beneath him. His arms trembled as he tried to continue his push ups now that he was well into the hundreds. "Who's that?"

He nudged his nose against his shoulder to push the glasses further up his nose while he indicated his head to the left, signalling Phoenix's attention towards the person advancing across the base.

Maverick had told Bob and Phoenix to finish off Jake's safety checks, prep his fuel tank too and then do a set of two hundred push ups. They both knew they should have been more careful and they shouldn't have started squabbling like children when Jake was hauled off to the medic bay.

Phoenix lifted her head and glanced her eyes around, trying to find out who Bob was referring to. When her eyes set on a woman walking their way, her brows furrowed and she watched where she was walking.

She wasn't in uniform, whoever she was. She had on a baby blue tank top and a pair of denim shorts that stopped just before her knees. Her bag was hung on her shoulder, the strap clutched tightly in her hand and there was a nervous look plastered across her face.

The woman seemed to spare them a glance, noting that they were both sweating through their uniforms, before her eyes set on Maverick and she made a beeline for him.

"Mav, where is he?" (Y/n) bit her lower lip nervously when she reached Maverick who greeted her with a warm smile and a hand on her elbow.

"He's with a doctor, come with me."

(Y/n) nodded and let Maverick lead her inside the base. She couldn't quite believe how high up the ceilings were or how large the bay doors were, it was like everything was amplified as if giants worked and lived here. It felt strange to be walking round here with Maverick when Jake always said he would give her a tour round one day. Plans changed.

She had been expecting much worse when Maverick rang her and said Jake had had a 'minor accident' at the base, but knowing it was nothing to do with a crash or him being in a plane at all made (Y/n) feel better. It stopped her from having a breakdown or a panic attack as she drove down here, but she couldn't fathom what had happened. What kind of accident would her husband have when he was supposed to be safe here on the ground?

She glanced over her shoulder, noticing that the two others who had been doing press ups were now following after her and Maverick, presumably so they could see Jake too. They must be part of his team.

"What happened?"

"Phoenix and Bob, behind you," Maverick tossed a look over his shoulder and pointed his thumb in their direction. "Had a mishap when they fueled their plane. The pipeline dropped and caught Jake in the temple. I think he's got a mild concussion, but he'll be fine."

(Y/n) brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, hearing her shoes clicking loudly against the tiled floor as she followed Maverick around three corners and down a long corridor until they were in front of a medical wing.

That didn't sound too bad. That wasn't nearly as bad as she had been expecting, but it still wasn't good.

Her husband shouldn't be getting into accidents like this at work. He shouldn't be getting smashed in the head with their equipment. He was a pilot, an aviator. He was training every day to be in top physical performance and here he was with a concussion because his team had clearly lacked concentration.

It took all the effort (Y/n) had not to run ahead once they walked into a large open unit almost the same size as the open field outside. There was only one patient in here and (Y/n) set her sights on him immediately.

Jake was sat on the side of a bed, his legs swinging back and forth like a child at a doctor's appointment. His hands were clutching either side of the bed, his lips were set in a firm line and he kept squinting and closing his eyes as a doctor was stood in front of him, cleaning his wound.

Once they were close enough, (Y/n) hurried past Maverick and dropped her bag down by the foot of the bed. She didn't want to get in the way when the doctor was clearly trying to assess Jake and sort him out, but the moment Jake glanced to the left, his eyes widened and he jerked out of the doctor's grip.

"Baby." The surprise was evident in his voice and he let go of the bed to reach an arm out in (Y/n)'s direction. As soon as he started curling his fingers in a grabbing motion, (Y/n) smiled and moved forward.

Jake immediately coiled his arm around (Y/n)'s waist and reeled her closer until she had to plant her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. His fingers squeezed her hip tightly and he kissed the top of her chest before he glanced over her shoulder towards Maverick.

"You called my wife?"

The shock was evident in Jake's voice, but it was the looks of the rest of the team that made him wince. He hadn't mentioned to any of them that he happened to be married, that knowledge was on a need to know basis and as his superior, Maverick was the only one who needed to know. For emergency situations like this if Jake ever got hurt or shot down or sent to hospital.

There was no way they could let him drive home and since he had been injured, Maverick knew it was best to call (Y/n) and let her know so she could come and pick him up.

"You got concussed and you won't be able to drive home. Yes, I called your missus. You're welcome."

Maverick placed his hand on his hip and tilted his head to one side. Once Jake was silenced with that one look, Maverick nodded to himself and turned to leave. He knew none of them would be doing any more exercises today and he was okay with that, they would call it a day and start again tomorrow.

"You're married?"

"You never mentioned you're married to such a stunning girl."

(Y/n) tilted her head to the right, figuring the man that said that must be Bradley, the one Jake said was close to Maverick. He had a raised brow and his lips quirked into a smile beneath his moustache while both arms folded tightly over his chest.

She could feel the glares Jake was sending towards Bradley, squinting and glaring over in his direction before he looked back up at his wife.

With a quiet groan, Jake moved his hands from (Y/n)'s hips so he could bind his arms tightly around her waist. His hands feathered up and down her back and he pushed forward until his lips attached to her exposed chest just beneath her collar bone.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"Why did you need to know?" He countered, smirking tiredly against (Y/n)'s chest and he twisted his head so the left side of his face could press down against her skin. His cheek nuzled into her chest and he looked over at the team, watching the blush that rose to Bob's face that tilted down to look at his shoes and the way Phoenix rubbed the back of her neck bashfully.

He hadn't told them because it wasn't their business, they didn't need to know. He was in love, he was head over heels in love with his wife and in Jake's eyes, she was his little secret.

He didn't want the team teasing him or asking about her or trying to make jokes that he was tied down. He had dealt with that in the past with other people he worked with and he didn't like it. He smiled when people flirted with him in bars, but he kindly turned every one of them down and didn't let them get too close. (Y/n) was the reason why.

Sometimes it felt safer to keep (Y/n) as his little secret. What they did was dangerous, they had all lost friends in this job and it was hard to bring friends and family into this life. Jake didn't know if introducing (Y/n) to his team would be too much.

For him, it felt better to keep work and home life separate.

With a sigh, Jake lifted his cheek from (Y/n)'s chest, his lips forming a thin line as he stared up at her despite the headache that was swirling around behind his eyes. He scanned his eyes around the team who were all watching on eagerly like this was their favourite tv soap.

"Darlin', this is the dagger squad," Jake waved his hand around, muttering their call signs to which (Y/n) nodded earnestly. "Guys, this is my wife, (Y/n)."

"Nice to meet you all, even under strange circumstances," (Y/n) quirked a brow when Bob tipped his head down with his hands clasped tightly behind his back. Clearly he felt guilty for the accident and (Y/n) was sure she heard him mutter a soft 'sorry again' clearly directed towards Jake.

He wasn't going to hold a grudge. It had been an accident and a few stitches was much better than some of the injuries he'd gotten on this job. But he would be holding this over them in the future and he knew he had earned himself a few free beers down at the Hard Deck for this.

"How bad is it then?"

Jake felt shockwaves coursing through his blood when (Y/n)'s hands moved from his shoulders to gently cup his face in her hands.

He loved the feeling of her thumbs brushing across his cheekbones just beneath his eyes and the way her fingertips tapped behind the tip of his jaw near his ears. His lips curved into a smile, despite the aching in his temple that had gone down a little when he took the aspirin and painkillers he was given.

His eyes squinted up at his wife whose lips curved into a pouting smile while her head tilted to the side, inspecting the wound on his temple.

All the blood had been cleaned from Jake's face and neck and his head had been X-rayed and dabbed with anticeptic, all he needed now was stitches.

"What am I gonna do with you?" (Y/n) murmured softly while she tilted Jake's head down in her hands so she could pepper kisses against the middle of his temple which no doubt would be aching. She didn't want to touch or go too near the wound, she knew even a light touch was going to hurt and she didn't want to hurt him. But he leaned into her touch and groaned, tightening his arms around her waist while his hands slid further down her back.

"I can think of a few things."

"I don't think I wanna see that." Coyote ran a hand down his face and patted Bradley's chest before he began to walk. He would see what Maverick wanted them to do, whether they were all getting the afternoon off or just Jake. He murmured a soft "Nice to meet you, Mrs Seresin." And laid a hand on (Y/n)'s shoulder as he passed her.

"Yeah, us neither. Sorry again, Hangman, we'll owe you a few rounds when your back in action." Phoenix waved her hand towards Jake and dipped her head before she headed out with Bob following in her wake.

He uttered a soft "Nice to see you, sorry Hangman." before he followed Phoenix, silently praying they wouldn't have to finish the last twenty six push ups they had skipped when they followed Maverick and (Y/n) down here to the medic bay.

"Well, you look like your in good hands, so I'll catch up with you later. Maybe we'll see you soon, Mrs Hangman."

Once Bradley disappeared, (Y/n) managed to untangle herself from her husband's arms, causing him to grunt and pout dramatically. His hands reached out for her but she didn't move far. She stepped out from between his legs and moved to stand on his left side near the end of the bed he was perched on. Her arm looped around his back and her hand gave his shoulder a squeeze while she kissed the good side of his temple.

"When can I take him home?"

"I'll just do the stitches and then he's all yours."

Jake couldn't hide the grimace that flooded his face when he saw the needle and thread. He didn't like the inconvenience of stitches. His eyes briefly glanced up at (Y/n) before he shimmied round on the seat so his back was towards her. And he slowly reclined his head until the back of his head was settled down on (Y/n)'s shoulder.

He did his best to keep his head steady and his eyes fell closed when he saw an injection needle coming close. The numbing agent to make the stitches more bearable.

A low whistle passed his lips and when (Y/n)'s free hand curled over his thigh, Jake reached down and curled his hand over hers. He squeezed tight and tried to take slow, deep breaths when the needle finally started puncturing through his skin. It didn't exactly hurt, but he felt a sharp sting and each time the thread was pulled tight, Jake could feel his brow lifting as the skin was dragged back together.

Six stitches later and (Y/n) could barely feel her hand from how tightly Jake was squeezing it. She leaned her head down and kissed the top of his head, nudging her nose against his soft wavy hair as Jake finally opened his eyes.

"You're good to go with a mild concussion, Seresin. No flying for twenty-four hours, and if you go any higher than G7, I'll need to see you back here for a check over."

"Copy that."

"Thank you for patching him up."

When Jake hopped up from the bed, (Y/n) moved her arm lower to secure around his waist and she pressed a quick kiss to the side of his jaw which caused his lips to pull into a wide grin. He draped his arm over her shoulders, feeling much better than he did earlier.

The last thing he wanted to do was lean on (Y/n) and have her dragging him out of here like the guys had heaved him in earlier. He could walk on his own two feet again.

"That's going to leave a scar." (Y/n) murmured softly, reaching her left hand up to graze her fingers over his brow just beneath the row of navy blue stitches on his temple. It wasn't going to leave a dent or a prominent, deep line, but it would leave a faint streak of white like a dash of paint across his skin.

She pressed another kiss to Jake's jaw until he tilted his head down and captured her lips in a soft, burning kiss instead. "I know," He muttered softly against her lips, kissing her again and again as they walked as slow as possible out of the base.

"But I know you love my war wounds."

[moondancediner]

Love of my Life

summary: the dagger squad meets hangman's best-kept secret

jake seresin x reader

word count: 1490

warnings: no editing, fluff

a/n: this popped into my head the other night... enjoy! also this gif makes me CHOKE ohmylord

song rec: love of my life - harry styles

masterlist

It wasn’t on purpose. Nights when you and Jake ended up at the same bar were never planned, mostly because your friends from work always wanted to go somewhere downtown, and Jake’s friends from work always wanted to go to the Hard Deck so there was never a chance for the two groups to intersect. 

Tonight, however, your friends had enough of hearing about all your nights at the Hard Deck with your fighter pilot husband who drops by work every once and a while with lunch or a gorgeous bouquet of flowers. They decided to venture out to the Hard Deck tonight for your monthly get-together and you weren’t going to miss an opportunity to ogle at your husband from across the bar while he played darts and pool with his Dagger Squad friends who just so happened to be in town visiting. 

And that’s exactly where you found yourself on this lovely Friday night. Your friend walked over to your standing table with another drink for you and you thanked her with a smile. She immediately started diving into some workplace gossip, keeping her voice quiet since so many of your colleagues had managed to make it out tonight. You half-listened to her go on how bad the break room refrigerator smelled the other day but your real focus was on Jake who was playing pool with Phoenix, Fanboy, and Bob. He had Bob on his team and you were surprised to see him actually give the man a chance to play without correcting or coaching him. 

You knew all about the Dagger Squad, when Jake was first sent out here you followed him, even knowing this wouldn’t be a permanent duty station, and he talked about everyone he was competing against non stop. From the moment he came home after training you were getting a full rundown of the days happening (you were sworn to secrecy of the top secret events, of course). You learned quickly who was who, even if you never got the opportunity to meet them. 

After the mission, you were pulling out boxes and getting ready to move what little belongings you brought over to the island when Jake came home and surprised you to your core. He accepted a teaching position here on the North Island and you were staying for the foreseeable future. 

You were shocked but over the moon. Jake would be in one spot for at least a couple years and wouldn’t be off on deployments and missions so often. You could start a family and he could actually be there for all of it. 

“Hello? Anybody home?” A hand waving in front of your face brought you out of memories and a trance you hadn’t realized you were in. You laughed and smiled at your friend, but not before catching the eye of Phoenix, who totally caught you staring at Jake. 

“Sorry, sorry, got a little lost there.” You waved her hand out of your face and took another sip from your drink. 

“I’ll say,” she laughed, “I mean, I get it.” Her eyebrows wagged and you laughed heartily, throwing your head back. She was always complimenting your choice of husband and you had to agree with her, he was fine as hell. 

“Fuck, I think one of his friends just caught me staring,” you said once the laughter died down. 

“Remind me again why he doesn’t tell them about you?” 

“It started off as a joke,” you start, “he wanted to see how long it would take one of them to notice, and now it’s just an ongoing bet we have.” 

“A bet I am about to win, by the way.” Jake suddenly appears behind you and you’re happy to see him until his words sink in.

“You’re not allowed to interfere!” You point at him and he just laughs. 

“No interference, I promise.” He leans on the table you two are standing at and you almost forget about the bet for a second because his green eyes still captivate you even after all this time. 

“Well, what are you doing over here then?”

“See now, that’s where it gets interesting because someone caught you looking at me,” he tips his beer over in the direction of his friends, who scatter like chickens when you turn your head to look at them, “and they bet me $20 that I couldn’t walk over here and get your phone number.” 

“Hmmm, seems like fair play to me.” Your friend interjects, looking contemplatively between you and your cheating husband. 

A noise comes out of your mouth, somewhere between disbelief and betrayal. You only had one month left before the bet was yours and you could claim your prize and now this happens, the perfect opportunity falls right into Jake’s lap. 

“Did none of them notice the giant ring on my finger?” You hold up your wedding rings, which glint even in the dim bar lighting and Jake takes your fingers in his hand, bending them towards himself before placing a kiss on your knuckles. You swoon. It’s impossible not to. “Don’t try to distract me, you’re in trouble.” 

“Come on darlin’,” His hand fell away from yours but moved slyly around your hip, where it curled around the belt loops of your shorts, and just then, while his face was inching towards yours, your wedding song came on. 

“When did this song get added to the jukebox?” 

“I may have put in a special request.” His smile did you in. You met him halfway and when your lips met that familiar kaleidoscope of butterflies took flight. Jake pulled away just to smile at you some more before pressing a few quick kisses to your lips. When he backed away enough, you took the chance to look over his shoulder and see what his friends thought. 

The entire group was standing around, completely gobsmacked at what just occurred and you could only imagine what was running through their minds. 

“After you, Mrs. Seresin,” Jake whispered in your ear. You gave him the best glare you could but he just laughed and grabbed your hand to walk you over to the group of people you already felt like you knew. 

Jake chuckled as you got within ear shot. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet someone,” he pulled you under his arm and you automatically slid your own across his back, “this is my wife.” He said it with genuine pride, a stark contrast to his usual cocky tone everyone was used to. 

“Wife?” Rooster repeated, dumbfounded.

“Pick your jaw up off the floor, Bradshaw.”

You ignored Jake and introduced yourself to everyone with a quick wave. “It’s nice to finally meet you all.” 

There was a beat of silence while you watched everyone process what was happening, but Phoenix broke it with a laugh. “You’ve been holding out on us, Bagman!” 

“Yeah, what the hell, man!” Rooster seemed downright offended that Jake would keep such a secret from them and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“It’s not all Jake’s fault,” You come to his defense, “we had a bet going, which I just lost.” 

“What bet did you two have?” Bob asked, coming forward to introduce himself to you properly. 

You shook his outstretched hand, smiling. “We wanted to see how long it would take for someone to figure out he was married.”

“You… you don’t wear a wedding ring?” Rooster seemed to be having the hardest time with this revelation and it was cracking you up. 

Jake pulled his dog tags out from under his shirt, proudly turning them around to display his gold wedding band that perfectly matched the one around your finger. They both belonged to his grandparents and he was so proud to give you his grandmother's band on your wedding day. 

Phoenix studied the two of you for a moment, watched the way you started to sway to a song and Jake immediately joined in, watched how his attention always drifted back to you, and how his entire cocky dimenor melted away as soon as you were near. 

“So, what’s the story? How did you manage to bag Hangman?” Natasha asked, leaning her hands on the pool cue in front of her. 

Jake pretended to be offended. “I’m not that wild.” 

You roll your eyes affectionately before diving into the story of how you and Jake met. It was nothing spectacular or anything you would want to make a movie about, but it was a whirlwind romance that ended in the two of you married in the Seresin family’s backyard three summers ago. 

When you finished your story, all smiles for your husband, Rooster raised his beer in a toast. “Welcome to the family, Mrs. Seresin.” 

Jake couldn’t help but smile. It felt good to let the team in on his best-kept secret, even if he was gonna pay for her losing the bet later on tonight. 

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thanks for reading ily

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[roosterforme]

Wild Rooster Chase | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley thinks about you more than he should, and his feelings for you run deeper than they ought to. You've never given him an indication that you want to take the teasing touches and playful flirtation to the next level, so he never pressed his luck. When you surprise him by sending a text message that could change everything, he's ready to chase you all over San Diego for some answers.

Warnings: adult language, fluff, angst, drinking

Length: 5700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Banner by @thedroneranger

"What are you ladies doing here?" Bradley asked as you walked in with Halo and Phoenix on either side of you. "Thought tonight was the bachelorette party?"

"The Hard Deck is our first stop of the evening," you informed him as you planted your palm on his chest with a smirk, and he let you push him away from the bar. "We couldn't miss out on letting you guys see how nicely we clean up."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, as if he wasn't actively ogling you in your mini dress and high heels. He'd never been one to hide it, and he'd never been one to check out the other two, either. But that didn't mean he was going to act on it, because he was absolutely convinced this was just a game for you. One that he loved participating in. One that he knew was never going to go anywhere real.

"Yeah," you verified with a laugh. "We look hot."

"An indisputable fact," he whispered as he pretended like you were actually pushing him further out of your way. He'd move wherever you wanted him to, as long as you just kept touching him.

"Shoo," you scolded, looking up at him as your knee bumped his leg. "I need to buy some drinks, and you're in my way."

He covered your hand with his big one and immediately stopped moving. "Nice try, Blaze," he said with a grin as you attempted and failed to get him to budge more. "But I'm definitely buying you all a round for Callie's big night." He tossed his credit card onto the bar and draped one arm around Halo and the other around you before leaning in close to you and whispering, "And you always look nice. Even in your flight suits."

"What can I get for you ladies? And Rooster?" Penny asked, cutting him off just as he had you rolling your eyes. "Wait... he's not going out for Halo's bachelorette night, is he?"

"Absolutely not," you told her, tilting your head to look up at him with a devilish grin that made him a little nervous. His arm was still heavy across your shoulders as you said, "He's just here to buy us three Johnnie Walkers. Blue Label. Neat." 

"What?" His voice was strangled, and his eyes were wide. "That's over a hundred bucks!"

"But it's what we want. Isn't it, ladies?" you asked Halo and Phoenix as you tried not to laugh.

"It is," Halo confirmed. "And I'm the one getting married next weekend." 

When Bradley moaned and nodded at Penny, you gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Rooster. You're the sweetest."

"You mean I'm a sucker," he said, finally releasing both of you. "So where are you headed after this?"

Halo accepted her expensive Scotch as she said, "Cowboy Star for a steak dinner."

Bradley snorted. "Don't forget to take Jake with you," he said, nodding to where the other guys were hanging out near the dart board. 

"No boys allowed," you reminded him. "Especially not since we're taking Halo to Cheetahs after dinner."

"Strippers?" he asked as you picked up your Johnnie Walker. "Looking at hot, naked chicks? Sounds fun. What else?"

"Dancing at Pleasure Town!" Phoenix said, taking the last Scotch and holding it up. You and Halo both tapped your glasses to hers.

"Thanks, Rooster!" you said before taking a sip. He just shook his head as you pressed your lips to the glass, but a few seconds later, he ran his index finger along your arm and leaned a little closer again.

"Hey, you call or text me if you need anything, okay? I'll keep my phone on all night for you girls."

A chill seemed to run through your body, and just the mere thought of you calling him in the middle of the night left his mouth dry with need.

You chewed on your lip and looked up at him. "I'll let you know if I need you."

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

I'll let you know if I need you.

Bradley couldn't stop thinking about that sentence. If you ever told him you needed or even wanted him for anything, he'd be there instantly. He wasn't afraid to admit to himself that he'd had a crush on you from the first day you arrived at Top Gun. He was sure you knew it, too. But there were some things he just didn't want to mess with. Your call sign was Blaze for a reason, after all. Too fucking hot to handle. Too damn enticing to be interested in him.

So he did what he always did on Saturday nights. Found the second cutest girl at the bar and tried his luck. 

It was two hours later and three drinks in with the redhead, and he knew he could probably get as lucky as he wanted to. Her hand was on his thigh, inching closer to the hem of his tropical print shirt, and she was all smiles.

"Let's play something on the jukebox," she told him, and he agreed as he followed after her. To his dismay, she picked your favorite song, and now he was having a bit of a hard time staying focused on the task at hand as she tucked herself against the wall and pulled him closer by his shirt.

"You like this song?" he asked, glancing at the jukebox like he expected you to be standing there. 

She shrugged and said, "Not really. I just pushed some random buttons," with a little giggle. "Now, come here."

Alright, so her lips were soft, and her tongue tasted like bourbon. She placed his hands on her hips, and he gave a little test squeeze which resulted in her tongue in his mouth. But the song was pulling up some other memories of you and him dancing together on New Year's Eve. When he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, it was almost a relief to pull away.

"Hey," she complained, reaching for him as he unlocked his phone. "I'm over here, Rooster."

"Sorry," he muttered, looking at her briefly, but he really wasn't. The text he got was from you. He held up one finger and took a step back as he opened it up. 

Blaze: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

"What the fuck?" Bradley said out loud as his eyes scanned the message again. It was a joke. It had to be. Or else he was reading it wrong? "Holy shit."

When he finally looked up, the redhead was pouting with her arms crossed. He needed another opinion, and he'd already lost interest in her anyway. He held up his phone and asked, "What does this mean?"

He watched her eyes as she read it, and a little crease appeared on her forehead. "It says get a life, jerk." She went walking off toward her friends as Bradley looked around for someone else to help him out. The guys were all playing pool and darts, but he didn't trust them as far as he could throw them anyway.

"Hey, Penny," he called out, cutting off several people who were trying to order drinks. He leaned all the way across the bar top to where she was pouring a martini. "Tell me I'm not losing my mind."

When he held up his phone, she squinted at the screen, and then her eyes went wide as she smiled at him. "I think someone overdid it and finally stated the obvious."

He was sweating now, afraid he was going to get this all wrong. "Like you think this is actually how she feels?"

She laughed and handed off the martini before pouring some wine. "Well, I don't want to speculate on someone else's behalf..."

"Bartenders are supposed to speculate," he told her, ready to climb over the bar and chase her down as she turned away from him to serve the wine. "It's your god given obligation."

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Well, then, merely speculating, I would say that the way the two of you cozy up with each other seems a little more than platonic."

He shook his head. "No, that's probably just me you're reading in the scenario." But she was shaking her head back and forth as well. "It's her, too?" Now she was nodding as she reached for a pint glass. "Like she might actually want to make something happen here?"

"Speculation," Penny told him. "But I think you should find out for sure."

He could call you. He pushed himself away from the bar, found a nice, quieter corner, and he tapped your number in his phone.

'Hi, it's me. I can't answer my phone, probably because I'm flying a seventy million dollar aircraft at the moment. Leave a message.'

"Damn it," he groaned, already thinking about how nice it would be to sling his arm around your shoulders and lean all the way in next time. Let his lips meet yours instead of hitting the brakes like he'd trained himself to do. "Wait!" he said to nobody in particular now that he'd walked away from Penny. "Cowboy Star!"

Bradley had the fortitude to keep his phone out and use the rideshare app he had downloaded. He was definitely not sober enough to do this in the Bronco, and he couldn't stop fantasizing about your song playing on the jukebox while he had your body pressed up against the wall. He needed to get to you and get some questions answered. 

He chose the closest driver in the app, and while he was waiting for Julian in his white Toyota Camry to arrive, he read your text again.

Blaze: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

"Is she so serious right now?" he asked the night air as he waited in the parking lot. "Is she so fucking serious about this? I think about it, too!  A lot!" he practically shouted as he responded to your text.

Blaze, call me back. Are you talking about a kiss on the cheek? Or something more? We need to discuss ASAP.

"Hey, are you Bradley?"

He looked up to see the white Toyota was just sitting there. You had his head so messed up at the moment, he hadn't even noticed it.

"Julian?"

"Yeah, man," the driver replied, and Bradley quickly climbed in the backseat. "You're heading to Cowboy Star?"

"Yeah," he grunted as he buckled his seatbelt.

"I love it there," he said as he pulled out onto the road that ran parallel to the beach. "My wife got me the porterhouse for my birthday."

Bradley stared at his phone screen, hoping you'd write back or call him. "I'm not actually going for dinner. I'm trying to find a girl."

Julian whistled and shook his head. "Man, you should have just stayed at that bar."

He tipped his head back and groaned. "It's a very specific girl. And she's out with some friends for a bachelorette party."

"You know dudes aren't really supposed to go to those things, right?"

Bradley rubbed his free hand across his face and said, "I know, but she sent me this text that is very thought provoking." 

"What's it say?"

He kind of felt like an idiot telling his story to his Uber driver, but he still wasn't sure he was understanding your words correctly. It just didn't make sense. 

"Julian, I am very firmly in the friend zone with this hot girl from work, and tonight she sent me this message: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time."

"Bro," Julian said as he hit the accelerator a little harder. "You're so in, man."

"Am I?" Bradley asked, squeezing his phone and wondering why you weren't calling him back. "Like, this girl is smoking hot. She's cool as hell, too. And we flirt a bit, but it never goes anywhere. And now she's not answering me."

"Just hang on." Julian went a little faster still. "I'll get you there so you can sweep her off her feet."

Bradley hung onto the door handle, not even sure he knew how to sweep you off your feet. What kinds of guys did you usually go for? He'd be lying if he said he never noticed that your last boyfriend kind of looked like him. And in general, you seemed to have a thing for guys with brown hair who were pretty tall. 

"Shit," he grunted, just torturing himself by imagining he could be the one holding your hand and making you laugh. "Are we almost there?"

"Hell yeah, dude. Next block up."

When Julian stopped at to the curb, Bradley lunged out onto the sidewalk as he shouted, "Thank you!"

"Good luck!"

The restaurant was absolutely packed, and even the line to talk to the host was long. After a few seconds, he simply walked to the front and cut everyone else off.

"Hey!" complained the woman who was now behind him as he cleared his throat and addressed the host. 

"Excuse me, but do you know if there are still three hot women here eating dinner together?" he asked the host who gave him a bland look. "They were all in tight little dresses. One was red, one was blue, and one was like a gold color. And one of them was wearing a bachelorette sash!"

"Oh," he replied with a little smirk. "Those three." Bradley didn't appreciate the way his little grin grew as he said, "Hot is certainly the right word to describe them."

"Are they still here?" he asked impatiently, trying to look past him into the dining room now.

"No. They left about an hour ago."

"Fuck," he groaned, pushing away from the podium and storming back outside into the night. He found a spot on the busy sidewalk where he could stand, and he tried to call you again. 

'Hi, it's me. I can't answer my phone, because I'm probably flying a seventy million dollar aircraft at the moment. Leave a message.'

He wanted to scream, but he calmly said, "Blaze, it's Rooster. Call me back." When he hung up, he opened the rideshare app again, and he luckily saw Julian on the map immediately and tapped on his little icon. "Come on, Julian," he muttered, already looking down the street for the trusty Toyota to make its return. "Yes!"

Bradley threw himself into the backseat once again as the driver asked, "That was quick, bro. What happened?"

"They already left for the strip club," he groaned.

"Cheetahs?" Julian asked, tapping at his own phone before he started driving again. "Not gonna pretend I've never been there before."

Bradley tried to call you again, and once again he got to hear your voice tell him you weren't available. "I just don't understand why she's telling me this now, you know? I've known her for almost two years."

"Two years in the friend zone? Bro, do you have no game?"

"Julian, do not test me right now," Bradley said with a laugh. He held up his thumb and index finger and added, "I was this close to sealing the deal with another girl at the Hard Deck when I got the text from her."

"Ohhhh. So you're in love with her. Understood, my man."

Bradley sat back against the seat and stared out the window as the city lights streaked past. In love. Was he? You always seemed too perfect to get involved with. But love? Is that why he never pushed for more? 

"Damn," he muttered. "Maybe." Was the fear of crashing and burning what was ultimately holding him back? 

That was when Julian pulled a slick u-turn and coasted into the parking lot of Cheetahs which was advertising fully nude girls. He should have been concerned that suddenly the only girl he wanted to see that way was you. "Thanks, Julian," he said as he hopped out and slammed the door closed.

"You got this!"

Well at least Julian thought he could pull off something impossible tonight.

"Whoa, I'm going to need to see some ID." 

Bradley realized that his path was suddenly blocked by an absolutely massive bouncer with a bushy beard. 

"Come on," he complained, digging his wallet out of his back pocket. "I'm thirty-five."

"No ID, no entrance."

"Yeah, yeah. Understood," he said trying to get his driver's license free as one of the strippers walked outside for a break. He craned his neck to see through the open door as the loud music filtered out before the door closed.

"Hey, Cherry," the bouncer grunted, and Bradley looked down at the stripper who was leaning against the wall wearing a pink wig, the tiniest g-string and some pasties. 

She was looking at Bradley a little skeptically as she replied, "Hey, Murph." She kicked a rock out into the parking lot as she told Bradley, "You're getting here awfully late. All of the private rooms have been reserved for the rest of the night."

"I'm not here for that. I'm just looking for some girls," he replied, waiting patiently while Murph inspected his ID.

"Yeah," she said with a laugh. "We've got plenty of those. The hottest ones in San Diego, if you believe the neon sign above your head."

"No," he told her, really not in the mood to recount his story again. "I'm looking for some women I work with."

Now Cherry looked downright unconvinced as she asked, "Are you a stripper?"

Bradley accepted his driver's license back and gave Cherry a hesitant look. "Well, no, I'm not."

"Didn't think so," she muttered, and Bradley stopped in his tracks before he even reached for the door handle.

"Excuse me?" he asked, giving her a much more scathing look. "What's that supposed to mean? I'd be a fantastic stripper."

She shook her head and adjusted her tiny underwear. "You don't have the right build for it."

Bradley burst out into sardonic laughter. "Cherry, you must be joking," he said as he tucked his wallet away and flexed his biceps. "I could totally be a stripper."

"What song would you dance to?" she asked in an accusatory tone. 

"Sweet Emotion," he told her immediately. Yeah, he'd thought about it before, and yeah, he knew he'd absolutely kill it up on stage. But she just made a face in response. "What's wrong with my song?"

"Nothing, I guess, but there's no way you'd be raking in the tip money."

Bradley pointed across the parking lot to Hard D Boys, the male club that was associated with Cheetahs, and said, "Just for that, I'm coming back for their open auditions night, because you have no idea what you're talking about." She shrugged, and he shook his head. "I don't have time for this. Have you seen three hot women? A red dress, a blue dress and a gold dress? Like short dresses?" he asked, tapping his thigh with his hand to indicate that your dress left little to his imagination. "They are like around this tall?" he added, sticking his hand in the air around your height.

"Sorry, Mr. Sweet Emotion, but I only take note of the biggest tippers."

Bradley groaned and pushed the door open, and the music was so loud, it wasn't even worth trying to ask the bartenders if they'd seen you. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he walked around the cavernous club, trying to locate you three, but it was mostly men. And then he had the disturbing thought that maybe some guys tried to pick you up.

"Why are you doing this to me, Blaze?" he whispered to himself as he walked back through every corner he could find. He even asked a woman to check if you were in the ladies' restroom. He came up empty handed again. 

"God damn it," he said once he was back outside with Murph.

"To be fair," Murph said as he lit up a cigarette, "I think you'd make an okay stripper."

"Thank you for that," Bradley told him sincerely as he tapped his rideshare app again, but then he heard a horn honking and looked up. It was Julian, hanging out his car window. He'd waited for him. 

"She's not here?"

"No, Julian. She's not here!" he said as he rushed toward the Toyota and climbed in.

"Well, where are we going next?"

Bradley closed his eyes and thought about what Phoenix had said earlier at the Hard Deck. "Pleasure Town. They were going dancing at Pleasure Town."

"On it," Julian told him and shifted into drive.

It was after midnight now. Pleasure Town wasn't too far away, but he'd be lucky to even find you in there on the weekend. But if he did, you'd be dancing like crazy with the biggest smile on your face, pretending you liked the music they were playing while you thought about your own playlists instead. You'd be drinking some neon colored cocktail and trying to talk the girls into leaving to get cookies from that place that was open all night. You'd maybe even be checking your phone and finally, finally texting him back.

"Yeah, you're right, Julian."

"About what, my man?"

Bradley rubbed his hands over his face. "I'm in love with her."

Julian reached his arm back at a red light, and Bradley fist bumped him. "Yeah, that's what I'm talking about! I could tell right away. Don't worry. We'll find her."

But it got harder to be hopeful the longer he was in the dance club. There was barely any room to walk around, and there were dozens of women in little dresses that looked like the one you were wearing, but none of them had your face or your smile. You weren't here. 

He stood on the dance floor and read your text one more time.

Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

He wanted to know what kissing you would feel like. Now that you opened his mind to something more, he'd never be able to stop thinking about it. But this time, he let himself finally focus on the word regret in your message.You'd regret what you said in the morning. He knew you; he knew you would never go for the idea sober. But he texted you one more time anyway.

Blaze, please call me when you get this. It doesn't matter what time it is. Just call.

When he walked back out into the cool, night air, Julian was right there at the curb waiting with a hopeful look on his face. "Bro, is she here?" When Bradley didn't respond, his face melted into sadness. "Or did she say the 'just friends' shit?"

"She's not here," he replied, once again climbing in the back of the now familiar car.

"We going somewhere else now? The pursuit continues?"

Bradley grimaced and said, "I think I should just throw in the towel and regroup. Can you take me back to the Hard Deck? I'm definitely sober enough to drive home now."

But even Julian sounded disappointed now. "Of course, dude. Anything you want."

"Thanks," Bradley grunted, watching as the city lights faded a bit as they got closer to the beach. When Julian parked near the Bronco, he said, "I appreciate all your help tonight."

He gave Bradley another fist bump. "You gotta start fresh tomorrow, man. And you can't leave me hanging, okay? I need a wedding invitation."

Bradley chuckled as he climbed out for the last time. "I'm about to leave you the biggest tip."

He tapped two hundred bucks into the app as Julian drove off shouting, "Good luck!"

With nothing else he could do right now, he climbed in the Bronco, cranked the engine and started to drive himself home for the night. He was tempted to swing by your place or at least try to call you one more time, but he decided to let you get some sleep before you started to regret your message. That way he'd have a little more time with this hopeful feeling in his chest.

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

There was pounding. There was so much pounding. Maybe someone turned the music up even louder at Cheetahs? Or were you at Pleasure Town now? "Make them turn it down," you moaned, trying to cover your ears. That's when you realized you were in your bed. At home. Someone was knocking on your front door.

"Wait," you croaked as loudly as you could, your ears still buzzing from the loud music all night long. The bachelorette evening had been highly successful. Halo had a great time. But now you were hungover and not in the mood to deal with anyone. 

As you climbed out of bed, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand to check the time. The battery was almost dead, and you had a bunch of missed texts and calls, but you couldn't even focus on that until the pounding ceased.

"Please stop," you whined, flinging your door open before you even checked to see who it was. When you saw him it felt like someone poured warm caramel sauce on your heart or shoved you hard into a wall made out of soft foam: he always made you feel good and gooey and squishy in the most heart pounding, confusing way. "Rooster."

When he moved slightly, he stopped blocking the sunlight behind him and you squinted your eyes and groaned as you took a step back. "Blaze," he said in that raspy as sin voice as he blessedly closed your front door behind him. "You have a hangover."

You nodded, but even that was too much. "What gave it away?" you asked him softly, still holding your phone.

He snorted. "Well, for starters, you're still wearing your dress from last night."

"Oh." You hadn't realized that as you looked down at yourself for confirmation. "We went pretty hard. I can't even remember much after you bought us the Johnnie Walker at the Hard Deck."

He remained quiet until you looked back up at his face. "You... remember texting me?" His tone was one you'd never heard before, and it took you a few seconds to realize he was nervous. On edge. Hesitant. He was never any of those things with you, and you didn't like this at all.

"I texted you?" When you lifted your phone higher, you started to wonder why he hadn't hugged you when you opened the door. He usually always did. He swallowed hard, and you watched the scars along his neck as his Adam's apple bobbed.

"You really don't remember?"

Now he just sounded really fucking sad, and for some reason your brain was screaming at you that there was something you were definitely supposed to recall from last night. Something about Bradley. You left him at the Hard Deck after he paid for the Scotch, and then you went to dinner and drank more while you thought about him the whole time. But there was definitely something else.

"No. I really don't remember," you whispered, annoyed with yourself. You felt like it was somehow your fault that his lips were pressed in a tight line and his brow was creased.

"It's not important," he replied, all businesslike now. "Can I see your phone for a minute?"

"Yeah," you told him, handing it over and watching while he punched in your passcode. "What did you end up doing all night?"

He sighed and looked at you. "I ended up following you around to no avail."

"Why?" you asked, still clearly missing a piece of this whole puzzle as he started tapping your phone screen with his thumb. 

"That's not important either," he whispered, and you decided you didn't like any of this. 

You snatched your phone out of his hand and wrapped your arms around his neck. Almost reluctantly, he hugged you back before reaching his hand up to where you were holding your phone, trying to get it again. "What do you want my phone for so badly?"

He was acting strange, and when he said nothing in response, you lunged out of his grasp and tapped on your text thread with him. 

"Blaze," he barked out, but it was too late. You read what you'd sent him last night.

Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

"Oh my god!" you screeched. "I didn't delete that?! I hit send!" You couldn't even meet his eyes now as you tried to figure out how to get him to leave so you could cry in peace.

"Blaze, it's okay," he promised, but you knew it wasn't.

"You were going to delete that message. And the ones you sent to me after it," you accused. "Weren't you?" When he just stared at you silently, you realized he was trying to save you from being embarrassed, but it was way too late for that. He didn't want you. He was never going to want you.

"No hard feelings," he said softly. "Go ahead and delete it yourself. We can pretend this never happened."

"No hard feelings?" you practically wailed, afraid you were going to cry in front of him. "I just ruined everything. You were never supposed to know how I feel about you, Bradley."

As soon as you ducked your head away from him, his fingers were under your chin tipping your face up so you were looking him in his impossibly endearing brown eyes. "I need you to explain this to me. Okay?" He took your phone gently from your hand and held it up with the message displayed. "Please, Blaze. Did you mean it? Is that how you think about me?" When you nodded slightly, he readjusted his hand on your face so he was cupping your cheek instead. "Baby, I followed you everywhere last night. I called you and texted you and rode around in a white Toyota with Julian for hours on end."

"Who's Julian?" you ask softly as Bradley slid your phone into his jeans pocket.

"He's my new friend," he replied, which cleared up exactly nothing for you. "I went on this insane chase from Cowboy Star to Cheetahs to Pleasure Town just to try find out if there was even the slightest chance that you really meant what you said."

He closed the distance between your bodies as he stroked his thumb along your cheek. "It was supposed to be my little secret," you whispered. "I just typed it out to see how it would look. I read it in my head and imagined how you might take it. It was supposed to get deleted. You were never supposed to know."

"Is it really so bad that I do?"

His question hung in the air between you, and once again you nodded. "Yes, Bradley. Yes, because it's going to complicate everything now. Work, and our friends, and hanging out at the bar. It's all ruined. Because you'll never look at me the same way you used to."

"Blaze," he rasped. "Baby, I don't want to look at you the same way I used to. Like I was never going to measure up. Like I could never be what you wanted."

You gasped as your eyes went wide. "What are you saying?"

He groaned and pressed his lips to your forehead, and you melted against him. "I'm saying that I chased you all over the city last night hoping like hell that you meant what you said. And that you didn't regret it."

Your head was spinning, but not from the hangover as you thought about how it could feel to be with this man. "You want this?" you asked in awe as your hands eased up along his chest to slip around his neck again.

"Desperately. And if you think you want to see where it goes, we can take it slow, you know?" he asked, his brown eyes hopeful once again. "We don't have to rush into anything crazy."

But you knew you were already kind of crazy about him. You had been for a long time. So you whispered, "I think I could fall in love with you," and his lips came crashing to yours. You moaned into his mouth. His lips and his mustache were even better than all those times you'd imagined kissing him. His huge hands were bunching up the fabric of your dress at your hips. You wanted every part of your body to be touching him from now until forever.

This was how good it felt when you and he stopped pulling your punches. When you both stopped pumping the brakes. You raked your hands through his wavy hair, gasping for breath as you asked, "Did you really try to find me last night?"

"Of course," he promised as you kissed along his mustache and across his cheek. "It was enlightening. I learned a lot about myself. Hey, do you think I'd be a good stripper?"

"God, Rooster," you groaned just thinking about it. "You'd be an excellent stripper."

"I fucking knew it," he grunted, half guiding you and half carrying you to your bedroom. "Listen, we should cuddle right now, but I'm going to need you to come to Hard D Boys with me one night. I'm pretty sure it's just to prove a point, but you never know."

You really weren't positive what he was talking about now, but it didn't matter. His lips were on your neck, and his weight was pressing you down onto your bed, and he was saying the most wonderful thing.

"I know for sure I could fall in love with you."

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

He's such a simp, he would chase you anywhere. Imagine taking your brand new boyfriend to his stripper audition just because he has to prove a point. I mean, I wouldn't complain lol. Thanks for reading! And thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @thedroneranger

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[starfata]

I raise you- Carole was Pete's ex-wife!

They had really bad roommates in their first semester of college, getting married and sharing a bed for a few years in order to rent a cheap single room together from a conservative landlady was the easiest solution, which worked as well as it did because they were both focused on their goals and were strictly roommates and partners-in-life. Possibly fwb, if they didn't slip straight into a sibling type relationship.

They graduated, and their divorce was finalised before Maverick finished flight school. Neither of them thought anything of it when he had leave nearby and decided to introduce his new best friend and RIO to Carole, former roommate. It's not like they'd had an actual marriage, they'd just lived together, shared a room and chores and finances and supported each other as best as they could.

It'd be really funny if they never mentioned having been married until she and Goose were arguing over who got Mav to stand with them.

Goose- Well, he's my best friend, and my pilot.

Carole- He was my roommate for years and my husband for almost four.

Goose-... You were married?

Carole- Yeah, didn't he tell you about our apartment? The best place we could afford would only rent to us if we were married.

Goose- I did think it was weird you found an apartment together, but I figured you rented from a hippy or something.

Carole- We did consider that apartment, but the neighbour would not stop singing the whole time we were there and we both stunk like weed and incense after we left.

Wouldn't it be funny if Carole was Mav's ex-girlfriend when she and Goose met

[trickphotography2]

Two Lines

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x female!reader

The last thing Jake expected to see first thing in the morning was a pregnancy test in the trash can. And he definitely didn’t expect a debate with his wife about what those two lines meant. 

Word count: 1.5K

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

It took a lot to shock Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin.

Not only had he made it through a military academy, he was a combat pilot who’d seen action in two war zones and had medals to back up his claim that he was one of the Navy’s best.

But the sight of the pink-capped test in the bathroom trashcan had him choking on his toothbrush.

Adrenaline shot through him, waking him up from the half-stupor he’d been in. It was still early before your alarm went off. But you’d been restless all night, tossing and turning and grumbling about what a stupid idea it was to get your work-mandated flu shot at the same time as your COVID booster.

“Not sure why you did it,” he’d teased, brushing the hair from your eyes. “You always feel like crap after.”

“I know,” you whined, curling closer to him even as your body ached and your stomach clenched. “I just needed to get it out of the way, and since I don’t have any clients tomorrow, I figured I could call out sick if I needed to.”

But that didn’t explain the pregnancy test in the trash.

After just under a year of marriage, you weren’t actively trying to get pregnant, but neither were you trying to prevent it. Both of you were in agreement that you’d be happy to have kids if it happened, but you were also satisfied with it being just the two of you for a while, or even forever.

Your period being late wasn’t uncommon, especially when you were stressed. And with the clinic officially understaffed and you taking on a larger client panel while trying to balance groups and to promote to a leadership spot, Jake knew you were stressed. For the first time, he’d seen you working on the weekend to catch up on session notes and submit consults, making sure your clients were getting connected to the services they needed.

The test was probably just for peace of mind, he reasoned, forcing himself to finish brushing his teeth while keeping his eyes on the trashcan. It wasn’t the first time you’d taken one, but it was the first time you hadn’t told him about it… that he knew of. And if you’d thrown it away, it had to be negative. You’d stumbled back to bed just an hour ago after using the bathroom, waking him as you collapsed back onto the mattress and declaring that you were calling in sick. When he’d pulled you to his chest and kissed your forehead, he’d felt your low-grade fever.

Just like he’d expected. It was why he’d stopped at the Commissary on the way home from work, grabbing bananas, applesauce, and bread to make sure you had something to eat while wallowing on the couch between naps.

Besides, he knew he’d be joining you on Saturday - he had his appointment to stop at the base hospital and get his mandatory annual flu shot, too. While it didn’t take him out like it did with you, he’d never pass up an excuse to have a lazy weekend.

With a forced nonchalance that he didn’t feel, Jake put away his toothbrush before reaching for the pregnancy test. Turning it, he saw two lines.

Two lines.

Jake stared, mouth dropping open. His eyes darted from the lines to the diagram on the side of the window, explaining how to interpret the results, feeling a strange sensation of excitement and terror at the confirmation.

Pregnant.

You were pregnant.

Confusion tempered his joy as he set the test on the counter and took a step back, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes to scrub away any lingering sleep. But when his vision cleared, there was no denying it.

Two dark lines.

Grabbing the door handle, Jake forced himself to take a deep breath before walking back into the bedroom. You’d dozed off again, breathing even and face half-hidden by your sleep mask. He’d bought you the first one as a joke when you’d moved in after a week of grumbling when he turned on the lights to get ready for work. While you both left the house at the same time - him to head to the base, and you to the hospital - he enjoyed taking his time with his morning routine, while you preferred hitting the snooze button as many times as possible before sprinting to get ready and out of the house on time.

You groaned when he sat at your hip, planting one hand on the mattress and reaching up to nudge the mask to your forehead. Refusing to open your eyes, you slapped at his hand, “Lea’me alone,” you grumbled.

“You got something to tell me, sweetheart?” he asked, forcing his voice to be even. While he was excited about the pregnancy, if you’d thrown the test away, you might not be.

“‘M not goin’ to work,” you sighed, rolling onto your side and hugging your pillow tightly.

“I know. Anything else?”

“Love you, have a goo’day.” Your words slurred as you started to drift again. When he said your name, a hint of exasperation creeping into his tone, you sighed and rolled onto your back. Kissing the tips of your fingers, you held them up for him. “I feel gross and don’t wanna kiss you in case it’s not the shot.”

“Is that why you took the pregnancy test?” One eye cracked open, and you saw your husband smiling down at you, a slightly manic gleam in his sea-green eyes.

Shrugging, you yawned, “Kinda. But it was negative.” Jake was silent for a long moment, and you felt him place a hand on your stomach.

“Darlin’… the test wasn’t negative.”

“It was.”

Jake barked a laugh. “There are two lines!”

“I know.”

“Two lines is pregnant!”

“Two lines is negative.”

“No, it’s not,” Jake argued. Huffing, you opened both eyes to glare at him.

“I read UAs twice a week at work, Jacob. I know what a negative result looks like.” As the person in charge of the Contingency Management program in your clinic, you administered and read urine drug screens, knowing with a quick glance if there were prescription or illicit substances in your client’s sample. If the two lines popped up for a negative result for their targeted substance - meaning they’d been abstinent - they earned the opportunity to draw for a prize. A single line meant that they had traces of the substance in their system, providing a positive result.

“Maybe for drug tests, but obviously not for a pregnancy test.”

“Move,” you grumbled, bumping your legs against him to get out of bed.

“Where are you going?” Jake asked.

“To prove you wrong.” Chuckling, he stood and smirked when you threw your sleep mask onto your pillow and brushed away the hand he offered to help you out of bed. The bathroom light was still on, and he followed behind you as you picked up the test he’d left on the sink, holding it in front of his face. “See? Two lines. Negative.”

Taking the test, Jake put his thumb over the Not Pregnant example and held it in front of your eyes. “See? Two lines. Pregnant.” He could only smile as your gaze shifted from glaring at him to squinting down at the test - you hadn’t put your glasses on yet. He watched your eyes widen with shock, darting from the instructions to the result window. Your lips parted, but no words escaped as your eyes rose to meet his again. “Say somethin’, sweetheart.”

“Why the FUCK are my POC cups the only damn thing that has a single line as positive?” you demanded.

That startled a laugh out of him, and Jake tossed the test back onto the counter and tugged you into his arms. Your fingers dug into his back, and he could feel you shaking. “You alright, darlin’?”

You were silent for a long moment before sighing, “Just realizin’ that I’m gonna be triple-checking results for a while. It’s gonna make my appointments run so much longer.”

Chuckling, Jake pulled away just far enough to meet your watery gaze. “What about this one? You gonna triple-check it?”

“I mean, you’ve pretty much done it.” An embarrassed smile flit across your mouth. “Is this where you say ‘I told you so’?”

“Pretty sure this is where I say I love you,” Jake replied, leaning down to kiss you softly. Carefully, he backed you up until your ass hit the counter and lifted you onto it. Your legs wrapped around his hips, arms draped across his shoulders as his hands slid under your shirt to wrap around your waist.

“Love you too. You ready to be a daddy?”

“Hell yeah. You ready to be a mama?” The question made you pause, but the steady confidence your husband exuded made you smile. Even if you weren’t quite ready, he would be there to help you get there.

“Yeah,” you said after a moment.

It would take you a couple of weeks to feel confident interpreting the UA results with a glance again, but you even chuckled when you started telling people about the pregnancy, and Jake boasted that he was the one telling you that you were pregnant.

After all, how many fathers got the chance to do that?

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

Author's Note: This little fic has been on my mind since yesterday when I had to fill in last minute for our CM clinic when a clinician called out sick, and had to administer and interpret 2 UAs in 30 minutes, then do brief counseling with the gentlemen before going. I've laughed with my friends before about how our POC cups (the same ones in the graphic above) are one of the only tests where two lines is negative.

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[queenofwands89]

Quiet Affections

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Pilot!reader

Summary: After her friends tease her about Jake having a crush on her, Y/N reflects on certain memories that make her question whether there might be some truth to their playful jabs.

Warnings: Teasing, pining, Jake being a sweetheart, Y/N being oblivious, insults aimed at Y/N, protective Jake, mention and description of injury, anxiety, doubts, fluff.

Notes: Happy Friday, everyone! We made it! 🎉 I just hit 2,500 likes on here and wanted to thank each and every one of you who liked, reblogged, or commented on my works. It means the world to me. I’m down bad for Jake, and need him badly so I wrote this. Enjoy byeeee

You find yourself deep in the heart of the Hard Deck, the familiar hum of chatter and clinking glasses forming a comforting backdrop. Rooster, Natasha, Javy, Bob, Reuben, and Mickey are clustered around the pool table, laughter spilling freely as they take turns making shots and throwing jabs. Jake had just excused himself to go to the restroom, but not before brushing a lingering hand against your shoulder and whispering something that made you smile. This action set off a chain reaction of teasing directed at you.

"Y/N, you know Hangman’s got a huge crush on you, right?" Rooster's mustache twitches with a sly smile as he lines up for his shot.

You laugh it off, waving a hand dismissively. "Oh please, Bradley. Jake? No way. He's just... nice."

Rooster and Natasha exchange glances before Natasha cocks an eyebrow at you. "Nice? Hangman is many things, but nice isn't the first word I'd use. Unless he’s talking to you," she remarks, tapping her cue stick against her palm.

Bob, always the quiet observer, chimes in. "He's got a point though, Y/N. I've seen how he looks at you."

You can't help but roll your eyes. "I'm just completely unaware of it," you say, sarcasm dripping from your voice. "You guys are ridiculous."

Mickey grins, his boyish charm lighting up his face. "Maybe, but can you really deny the way he's always got your back?" he asks, leaning casually against the pool table.

Your first instinct is to rebut, but as their words settle in, you start to think about some of the things Jake had done for you. Not just the grand gestures like saving your hide in aerial combat, but the small, everyday things. The way he'd always save you a seat, bring you coffee exactly how you like it, offer subtle words of encouragement when you doubted yourself.

Javy steps forward, his competitive spirit twinkling in his eyes. "You're telling me you haven't noticed how he always goes out of his way to make sure you're okay?"

Reuben, good-natured but always vigilant, nods in agreement. "Hangman's not exactly an altruistic guy, Y/N. But for you? He'd go to lengths he wouldn't for anyone else."

You crack a wry smile, determined to stay firm in your denial. "He's just protective. We're teammates."

Natasha had already joined in, her voice warm yet teasing. “Don’t sell yourself short, Y/N. It’s not just about being teammates. He genuinely cares.”

In the ensuing silence, you can't help but ponder on their words. Jake "Hangman" Seresin is charismatic and assertive, traits forged from his exceptional flying skills and competitive nature. But beneath that cocky exterior, there lies a heart incredibly loving and caring, willing to sacrifice anything for his loved ones. Slowly, you find yourself drifting into a vivid memory, reliving the countless cherished moments and experiences you've shared with Jake.

You recall that evening at the Hard Deck vividly. The bar was buzzing with the usual chatter and laughter, the hum of camaraderie filling the air. You were amidst your friends, enjoying the rare downtime when an unfamiliar voice cut through the noise—this stranger making an offhand but cruel remark about you. The comment was subtle, yet it stung deeply, rooting you in place with a mix of shock and mortification. Your cheeks burned under the weight of the ridicule, words lodged in your throat.

Before you could muster a response, you felt Jake's presence beside you, solid and reassuring. He stepped forward, placing himself between you and the offender. His usual easy going demeanor was replaced by a steely resolve, his eyes dark with anger. "Do us all a favor and think before you speak," he said, his voice steady but carrying an unmistakable edge.

The bar fell into an uneasy silence as Jake’s glare pinned the offender in place. "If you've got a problem with Y/N," he continued, his voice low and unwavering, "you’ll be dealing with me."

The tension hung in the air, thick and palpable. The offender, unable to match Jake's intensity, muttered an apology and slunk away, deflated. The moment passed, but the impact lingered. Jake remained there a moment longer, ensuring the threat had fully dissipated before turning back to you.

As he met your gaze, the hardness in his features softened, replaced by a gentle concern. He reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "You okay?" he asked, his voice filled with a tenderness reserved just for you.

You felt an overwhelming wave of gratitude, the initial embarrassment giving way to a profound sense of relief. Jake had stood up for you without a second thought, his protective instinct leaving no room for compromise. In that moment, you knew you were safe, not just physically but emotionally, knowing Jake had your back. His touch and the concern in his eyes reassured you even more, providing a solace that words alone could not.

.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

Then there was the night when you couldn’t sleep, tormented by insecurities that gnawed at the edges of your mind. It was long past midnight, and you found yourself seated on the deck of the aircraft carrier, trying to get some fresh air to clear your head before the mission. The vast expanse of the ocean and the cool night breeze did little to quiet the whirlwind of self-doubt swirling inside you.

The stars dotted the sky like tiny beacons, and the waves below gently lapped against the ship's hull, but none of it brought you peace. You wrapped your arms around yourself, tense and lost in thought, barely noticing the sound of footsteps approaching.

Jake emerged from the shadows, his silhouette becoming clearer in the soft glow of the ship's lights. He paused when he saw you, his brow furrowing with concern. He looked around, ensuring no one else was around, before walking over to you with determined but careful strides.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice breaking the solitude with an edge of worry.

You hesitated, feeling foolish for bothering him. "I…I just can't stop thinking about everything that's been going wrong. I don't know if I'm cut out for this, Jake."

Jake's eyes softened, and he lowered himself to sit beside you on the cold metal deck. "Tell me more," he said gently, coaxing you to open up. His voice was so steady, so soothing, that you found yourself pouring out all your fears and anxieties—the relentless pressure, the fear of failure, the nagging feeling that you weren't good enough. With each word, you felt a weight lifting from your chest.

Jake listened without interrupting, his usual cocky demeanor replaced by an unwavering focus on you. His eyes never left your face, and his expression remained kind and attentive. "You know what I see when I look at you?" he said quietly once you had finished. "I see someone who's brave, who fights every day to be better, who cares deeply about others. You're stronger than you think, Y/N. Don't let those doubts control you."

His words felt like a balm to your soul, soothing the raw edges of your insecurities. When he reached out to brush a stray tear from your cheek, the warmth of his touch and the sincerity in his eyes melted away your remaining doubts, leaving you wrapped in a cocoon of reassurance. Sitting there on the deck, under the endless sky, you felt profoundly grateful for Jake's unwavering support and the strength he helped you find within yourself.

.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

You also remember the time when you injured your ankle during a training exercise. You had insisted on limping back to your quarters, trying to maintain your independence. But Jake wouldn't hear of it. He had scooped you up without a second thought, cradling you in his arms as if you weighed nothing. "I've got you," he murmured, his voice laced with an uncharacteristic gentleness. The entire trek back, he kept you engaged in light-hearted banter, ensuring your mind stayed off the pain.

.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ.   ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

And how could you forget the morning he had brought you coffee? Not just any coffee, but a complex, personalized concoction—an oat milk latte with a shot of caramel, a pinch of cinnamon, and a dash of nutmeg, and no foam. You hadn’t even mentioned it to him before. "Thought you could use a pick-me-up," he had said nonchalantly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. But you knew the effort he had put into remembering such a detailed order, and it made your heart swell with an unfamiliar warmth.

These memories play in your mind like a cherished montage, each moment a testament to the man beneath the bravado. Jake "Hangman" Seresin wasn’t just the cocky pilot everyone else saw. He was a protector, a confidant, a friend who cared deeply for you, even if you had been too blind to see it before.

Returning back to the present moment amidst the lively ambiance of the Hard Deck, surrounded by the warmth of friends and laughter, you notice Jake returning from the restroom. As your eyes meet, his familiar smirk emerges, but this time there’s a tender softness in his gaze that you hadn’t noticed before—or perhaps, hadn't allowed yourself to see.

“Miss me?” he jokes, sliding back into the chaos of pool cues and friendly banter.

You chuckle, shaking off the speculative thoughts. “Like a bad habit, Seresin.”

But later, as the night winds down and the camaraderie ebbs into a quieter hum, you catch yourself glancing his way more often. The teasing remarks of your friends aren’t so easily dismissed anymore. And as Jake catches your gaze across the room, you start to wonder if maybe, just maybe, they might be onto something.

Because sometimes, the most significant realizations are the ones that had been right in front of you all along, masked by the comfort of friendship and the chaos of duty.

You smile to yourself, feeling an inexplicable warmth. Maybe it was time to see what was beyond the camaraderie, to delve into the possibilities of what if. The thought lingers, like an unopened letter, waiting for the right moment.

For now, you return to the laughter and games, but with a new awareness, a curiosity that couldn’t be easily shaken. One thing was for sure—things were going to get interesting.

-

Text divider credits: @bunnysrph

[promisingyounglady]

four eyes. | BF x Reader

PAIRINGS: Bob Floyd x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS: asking bob to make a mess of himself on your face while you wear his glasses? absolutely.

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

WARNINGS: ahem, SMUT, established relationship, profanity, oral (m!receiving), deepthroating, facial, handjob, cum eating, dirty talk, begging, slightly sub!reader, praise, aftercare and such sweet affection from bobby, not proofread and mdni!!, reader is a minx, brief mention of term ‘slut’, size kink, awkward sweetheart w a big dick!bob,

A/N: this is the most filthiest shit I’ve ever written and if you like this ur crazy… *reblogs, comments and likes the post*

“What are you up to?” he drawls, watching carefully as you crawl over his naked midriff and through the sea of bedsheets. Post-sex endorphins were through the roof right now for Bob, a wave of happy tiredness sweeping over the pilot.

You huff, hand outstretched as you reach for Bob's glasses perched on the bedside table.

“I wanna try these on” you say to him, balancing yourself as you try to grab the frames. Bob chuckles, a hand coming to rub your ass lovingly.

You bit your lip to fight the feeling of a grin spreading on your face, the feeling of Bob's soft hands tickling you as you playfully pushed him away, all the while he simply beams at you.

The hand supporting yourself on his hard chest slips, causing you to collapse on top of your boyfriend, your naked breasts brushing over his cock and sending a shiver down his spine.

A firm hand comes to still yourself. “Careful” he says softly, hands warm.

Bob looks over, grabbing the glasses just as you were about to pick them up, and holding them out of your reach. You protest, trying to get ahold of the frames you loved so much. Bob puts them on, allowing himself to properly see his girl.

“You don’t wanna wear these, they don’t look good on anyone. Including me.” he mumbles, adjusting you on top of him.

But you're quick to swipe them off his face, ignoring Bob's laughs when you put the glasses on yourself and straddle his hips. “I like them, they’re cute,” you tell him.

“Well what d’ya know?” Bob utters softly to himself when he sees you, gazing up at his girl wearing the steel rimmed aviators and looking absolutely breathtaking.

“Hi there, four eyes” he chuckles, finding it odd saying a phrase he’s been nicknamed all his childhood. Hell, even Seresin has no problem calling him that to this day.

Bob smiles, strong but soft hands coming to rest on your hips as you sat dangerously close to where his happy trail leads to. Your brows furrowed as you viewed the world through his lenses.

“Jesus, Bob, you really are blind!” You uttered, looking down at the blurry man seated against the bedpost.

Bob’s become busy at the moment, pressing pecks to your hardended nipples. He simply nods, pretending he’s listening.

“You should go to the eye doctor, honey”

Bob peaks through, giving you a look. “That’s where I got them”

“Hm.”

The room is silent, a soft glow of the afternoon sunlight peeking through the white shutters. You feel the corners of Bob’s lips curling into a smile against your skin, a silent worship to your body.

“You’re so soft.” he murmurs.

“Honey,” you call to your boyfriend.

“Hm?” Bob replies absentmindedly, still brushing his face along your chest, hugging you closer.

You tug on his brown locks, pulling his head from your body and looking down at him.

“I wanna try something.” you grinned, a mischievous glint in your eyes mixed with a bottle of excitement. You quickly press a kiss to his lips.

Bob watches as you pull from his grasp, lips forming a small frown from the loss of contact as you shuffled down the bed so you were now kneeling on the floor by the edge.

Bob looks over at you quizzically, wondering what you were up to before you beckon towards him, ushering him to sit at the edge of the bed.

“Come sit, Robert” you directed, calling him by his birth name to get his attention.

His soft cock limps near his thighs as he adjusts himself, sitting before you in all his naked glory, hair tousled by your hands and a pink blush ghosting his cheeks. His hand comes up to play with your hair, tucking a loose strand behind your ear. You look up in seriousness and confess.

“I want you to cum on these glasses”

Bob stops all motion, hand still tucked behind your ear. The room falls silent.

“What?”

You ignore the bafflement of your crimson cheeked boyfriend, bending down to lick a long stripe up his veiny shaft. A loud moan and harsh tug against your scalp brings you to take him further, almost triggering your gag reflexes. It all happens so fast. Bob mutters incoherently from the sudden gesture, both of you going slightly insane when your nose presses against his pubic bone as tears form near your eyes.

“Baby, hold on a moment, Jesus fuck!”

You’re worried you’re going to make a mess on the floor from the way your slick almost drips from your pussy.

You’ve been thinking of this fantasy for a while if you were to be honest. Bob pulls you back, gasping for air as a proud feeling settles in your chest. It’s not everyday you hear Bob cuss like that.

He’s panting hard, watching as a bit of saliva is smeared on your lips, eyes glossy. Bob sighs in exasperation as you decide to stroke his cock with your hands.

“You gotta let me speak-“

“Please, Bobby” you beg, pressing kisses to the pink tip and relishing in the way you feel him harden in your hand. A loud groan escapes Bob's throat, feeling sensitive despite having had sex the whole afternoon with you.

“I want you to cum while I have your glasses on” you told him, kitten licks getting the best of your boyfriend. “Like in those pornos” you mumble softly, your shy giggles driving Bob insane.

“Nobody says pornos anymore” he mumbles telling you, swallowing hard when you tug on his cock tighter for not responding.

Bob clears his throat. “You, um, want me to give you a facial?” He asks softly, holding onto your hand that's stroking his cock.

You nod eagerly.

“A-Are you sure?” He says, worried that taking him like this is gonna wear you out. In all honesty, the boy can’t help but grow hard at the thought of cumming all over your innocent face, big eyes covered by his glasses milked by his seed.

You nod, excitement and horniness flowing through your body.

“Please, honey, I want you to see me painted” you sighed, thumb brushing over the thick tip, smearing precum over the slit.

Bob thinks he’s gonna cum just from this angle, but he needs you so badly he tries to regain composure. He bends down to kiss you, tasting himself on your lips and letting your face be held in his soft touch. “Let me know if it's too much baby” he addresses in concern, the tears on your cheeks worrying him.

You sniffle, nodding your head to assure him. “Want you so bad, Bobby, let me suck you”

Your last few words are incoherent from the way you let Bob’s big cock stuff your throat, making you gag but desperately hold on. Bob lets go, both hands coming to balance himself on the edge, one gripping the bed sheets.

The sensation is fucking marvellous. You feel so full, loving the way the stretch of your mouth and untouched ache of your pussy turn you cockdrunk on Bob Floyd’s dick.

You look up, desperate to see how he's taking you, wanting to see the expression of him getting the daylights sucked out of him.

Lieutenant Bob ruts his hips pathetically, trying so hard not to make a mess of your mouth and hurt you. His head is pulled back, groans falling from his soft lips as he praises you so good.

“That’s it baby, doing so well for me” he sighs, now two large hands coming to push you a little further, a groan falling from his lips as you take him fully now.

“God, I love you!” he cries out loud, an instinctive response coming from your boyfriend as he caresses your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear. You smile, aviator lenses reflecting the light as your lips are wrapped securely around his dick.

”So pretty, such a pretty girl” he says under his breath, admiring the way your tits bounce along with every stroke on his cock. You gasp, pulling away as you let your fist do the rest.

“I love you too, Bobby” you gasped, looking up to find Bob staring at you intensely, with such a fierce gaze of love, sensuality, and pure awe.

”H-How,” he begins, starting to feel a familiar feeling settle inside him. “How did I get so lucky with you?” He admits, wanting nothing more but to see his cum painting his glasses you’re wearing. He thinks he might just let you have them. Being able to see is overrated anyways.

“I think I’m gonna cum, baby” he lets out, watching as your eyes get eager, adjusting your sore knees so you can get the perfect angle.

“Please baby, give it to me” you begged, pussy so sensitive you have to make sure you hold yourself up enough so the cold wooden floors don’t brush against your folds.

Watching you rub his dick like that, mouth open and face ready is an image Bob will have ingrained in his mind forever, a hot spurt of milky liquid shooting onto your lips as Bob finally gives you what you wanted.

Incoherent mumbles fill the sweaty bedroom, letting one hand cup his balls as the other makes sure to smear the warm fluid all over your lips, glasses starting to get foggy.

“Fucking hell” Bob cries out, spilling your name from his lips like a sacred mantra.

You hum, a wave of both happiness and satisfaction washing over you as you sit in front of Bob’s glory.

You let the man come down from his high, tasting salt and your boyfriend in your mouth. Before you can even clean yourself up, Bob is ripping off the dirtied glasses framing your face, and grabbing you towards him for a passionate kiss. The action makes you dizzy, your red, sore knees almost buckling under.

It’s only a while after when he pulls away, grabbing for a box of tissues near the nightstand and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I’m sorry for the mess” he replies shyly, the image of this tall, naked, handsome, and yet totally awkward giant taking care of you making it all worthwhile.

“It’s okay” you reply, voice hoarse. You couldn’t help but feel happy, even if you didn’t cum (Bob would see to it later of course).

You feel him use the tissues to wipe your chin, face, and tits, or really, what was leftover after you sucked it all up like a slut.

“You’re crazy sometimes, you know that?” Bob mumbles, shaking his head as he smiles at you, his soft touch so rewarding.

You laugh, latching your arms around his neck and letting him hoist you up so easily. His semi-hard cock limps against your stomach, both of you standing up and lips pressing together in another soft kiss.

”Thank you for the most mind blowing head of my life.” He jokes.

”Thanks for the facial” you gleam, sucking your fingers with a pop that makes Bob weak, falling back down on the mattress and taking you with him so you’re straddling him again.

Bob reaches for the glasses, getting a tissue so he could wipe them before an idea pops in your head and you stop him.

You put on the glasses again. He looks up.

“Bobby, where’s the Polaroid camera?”