#USS Theodore Roosevelt | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

roosterforme · 11 months ago

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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 8 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: It has been too long since you heard from Bradley. Perhaps something went wrong. Or maybe he was avoiding you. Just when you start trying to accept that the last few months were too good to be true, things start to turn around again.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, language, Bradley being sweet

Length: 3000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Days went by. With only two weeks left of Bradley's deployment, you weren't really expecting to receive air mail at school with your name on it, but you certainly did miss it anyway. Your students asked about him every morning, wondering if he'd sent a new email, hoping for another video with Marty. But you got nothing in either of your email inboxes.

He was on your mind almost constantly. What happened on his mission? Did the Navy decide it was okay to cut off communication right when you were completely attached to hearing from him? Did this really mean you had to wait until the aircraft carrier arrived back in San Diego?

It was right before your students were due to arrive in your classroom that you had perhaps the most distressing thoughts of all. What if something went terribly wrong and he didn't survive? Or what if this was simply his way of ghosting you before he had to see you in person?

Jayden raced in ahead of the rest of your class, calling your name along the way. "Did Lieutenant Bradshaw write back yet?"

You pointed him toward his desk as you shook your head. "I already explained that he may not have time to respond before his deployment ends."

Jayden just bounced in place in front of you. "Then that means he can visit us when he gets back!"

Now a small group of your kids surrounded you, and you wished more than anything that you could tell them that Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, their beloved pen pal, would definitely be visiting your classroom in a few short days. Instead you told them, "Please, take your seats so we can start our Natural History lesson."

This turned out to be your new normal. Every time you got an email notification, you jumped to unlock your phone, but it was never a message from Bradley. When you saw a box tucked in your mail cubby in the school office, you ran for it, only to find the science supplies you ordered weeks ago had arrived. You even forced yourself to go back and read some of the old emails from him, just to make sure it all really happened, but his words left you aching for more.

...I like giving Gorgeous teachers butterflies...

...You'd look adorable snuggled up in your bed. But then again, when aren't you completely Gorgeous?...

...Gorgeous girl, you're messing with my head...

...And it's not a matter of if I touch you, it's a matter of when...

After nearly two weeks had gone by, you tried to figure out if the USS Theodore Roosevelt was back in port, but short of driving to North Island to see for yourself, you couldn't seem to find a solid answer online. And if you did drive there and found it at the dock, what were you supposed to do? Contact the US Navy? If they told you that nothing happened to Lieutenant Bradshaw and that he was perfectly fine, you'd be mortified. If they told you something in fact did happen to him in the last two weeks, you'd be devastated. That's assuming you could even get them to give you any information at all which was doubtful.

On Friday, you were on the verge of tears as you got ready for work. "You're being ridiculous," you whispered, and that fact made you want to cry even more. You tried to take the time to make yourself look presentable, thinking that may be the key to having a good day. Your outfit was cute. Your makeup looked nice. But you weren't smiling, and you didn't feel like doing so at all.

You grabbed your bag, hoping the short ride with your favorite playlist would be enough to get your spirits up, but all you could think about was how you probably weren't cut out for life with a guy in the military anyway. Waiting around like this to see what was going on was making your stomach upset, and you weren't getting enough sleep. When you closed your eyes, you just pictured a very kissable face with a scarred cheek and big brown eyes.

"You need to focus," you scolded as you parked your car and headed into the school with your ID badge. You had eighteen kids who required your attention, and you'd once again give it to them, because you were fantastic at your job.

This morning, Violet was the first one to mention Bradley in passing, and you had to shake your head. "Please find your seats. If I hear from Lieutenant Bradshaw, I promise I will let you know. I'm not hiding any letters or emails from you all, okay?" You tried to smile as you said, "I'd like to hear from him every bit as badly as you would. I can guarantee that."

You struggled through your morning lessons, often reminding yourself that you needed to focus on your students. Then you sat quietly at your desk with the classroom lights off during lunch, scrolling back through the dozens of emails you'd exchanged with Bradley on your phone. You pulled up the picture of the sun setting behind him in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, and even though you tried, you couldn't find anything other than the most sincere expression on his handsome face.

Maybe he would text you this weekend, letting you know he was back and your date was on. You had to believe he would still contact you. When the bell rang, you counted to ten, and then your students came flooding back through your classroom door. They wanted to tell you all about how Jasper from Mrs. Wynn's class got in trouble during lunch, and you humored them before saying, "I'm sure none of you would misbehave like that in the cafeteria."

"No way!" Henry promised.

"That's what I like to hear," you told him with a forced smile. "Once you're all in your seats, we'll start our math lesson. Maybe I'll put a few aviation problems on the board at the end if you show me how well you can focus for the next twenty minutes."

You had just started copying the first fraction that you wanted to discuss from your notebook onto the board when there was a sharp knock on your classroom door. You sighed and let your forehead rest briefly on the white board, knowing that another disruption would completely derail your kids after all the lunchtime nonsense. When you turned to face the door, they were already starting to chatter with each other.

"Come in!" you called out, and every head in your room whipped around to see who was there and what they wanted.

When the door swung open, the room went silent. The first thing you thought about was how peculiar it was to see someone in a khaki military uniform standing there. Then your eyes slid up that tall, muscular frame as your lips parted in surprise. As soon as you met his gaze, he smiled and said, "Hey, Gorgeous."

You couldn't speak. As he took a full step into your classroom and pulled the door closed, you finally noticed he was holding some pretty flowers. Then he was heading your way, his combat boots squeaking ever so slightly against the tile floor with each long stride. Bradley Bradshaw wasn't hesitating at all as he made his way directly to you while your students started talking again.

"It's Lieutenant Bradshaw!"

"I knew he'd come visit us ever since I asked him to!"

"Does this mean his deployment is over?"

"Why does he have flowers?"

He didn't stop until he was standing right in front of you, and the butterflies in your belly were fluttering so much, you were convinced you could float off of the floor. You weren't sure what else to say, so you simply whispered, "Bradley."

His smile grew as he said, "I love the way that sounds when you say it." You could only squeak in response, and his warm gaze flicked from your eyes down to your lips. At this rate you'd be a puddle at his feet in the next ten seconds. He swallowed hard, cheeks flushed as he leaned in closer, taking another small step forward until his boot gently bumped your shoe. His voice took on a raspier edge as said, "You told me you wanted me to kiss you as soon as I saw you."

He didn't stop slowly closing the distance, and when you reached out and let your fingers tangle with his, you whispered, "Please." Then you closed your eyes as his lips brushed feather light against yours. You gasped. He was here. Nothing had ever felt as good as this in your life. You opened your eyes to find him grinning right in front of you, and you chased him for another one of his dreamy kisses.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw kissed her!"

"I think they're in love!"

"They are definitely going to be girlfriend and boyfriend!"

Bradley wrapped his fingers around yours a little tighter as you and he laughed, and he ducked his head before looking up at your class. His cheeks were the most alluring shade of pink as he told them, "Hey, I hope you don't mind that I decided to surprise you and your teacher."

"We don't mind!" shouter Oliver as he was practically sitting on his desk now in excitement. All of the kids were bouncing with anticipation, and you couldn't stop smiling as Violet clapped her hands together.

"Great, because I brought my responses to your last batch of letters, too. I can't thank you enough for being my pen pals for the last few months. You made my time away from home a lot more fun." He turned to look at you before softly adding, "And you made coming back home feel really good."

You wanted to kiss him again. You wanted to run your fingers along his scars and press your lips to his skin in their wake. You wanted to bury your nose against his neck and inhale the smell of his skin and his uniform collar. You wanted to feel his mustache on your lips. Instead, because every eye in the room was on the two of you, you told him, "I'm really happy you're here." You tugged on his hand so he was standing front and center, and you turned to your kids and asked, "What do we say when we have a special guest visit us?"

"Thank you!" they all shouted in unison.

"That's right," you told them. Then you looked up at Bradley, and he handed you the flowers with a crooked little grin, and that's when you noticed he had a small notebook in his hand as well.

"Can I call each kid up to get their letter?" he asked, as if you would deny him anything at the moment. "Then I can put faces to all of the names."

You were still definitely at risk of melting. "You wrote each of them a personal letter again?" you asked him, holding your flowers to your chest and trying not to swoon.

"Yeah," he replied, opening his notebook to show you. He stood there, looking devastatingly sexy, tearing out a page for every kid. He called each of them up and talked to them for a minute. He remembered the name of Jayden's dog. He remembered that Violet loved neon-colored everything. He remembered that Henry said his grandfather was in the Navy. He remembered so much, and he was so willing to indulge all of their questions.

You just stood there with your flowers and watched this endearing man captivate all nineteen of you with his words. He let Oliver try on one of his insignia pins. He drew a diagram of an aircraft carrier on your white board. He met your gaze more often than not. He smiled at you every time he did. He told your students that the reason they were so smart was because you were such a good teacher. The butterflies were here to stay now.

When you looked around, you noticed that your kids were cherishing their personal notes just like you were your flowers. You didn't want this afternoon to end, and yet, as soon as the first bell rang at three o'clock, you jumped to attention. The sooner your students cleared out of the room for the weekend, the sooner you could hopefully have a few minutes alone with Bradley before he wanted to go home and rest.

"We need to pack up," you announced, finally setting the bouquet down on your desk while Bradly affixed his pin back on his uniform shirt.

"Do we have to?" whined Jayden. "Lieutenant Bradshaw like just got here!"

He had in fact been in your classroom for over two hours, but you couldn't blame them for wanting more. Bradley cleared his throat and looked at you as he said, "I could come back again?" with that sincere gaze you were already weak for. "Spend a few more hours answering questions? Maybe bring some engine parts with me?"

You bit your lip before you could whimper out loud, and he started to head in your direction. "We would love that," you told him.

"Yeah?" he asked you as your kids erupted into a rowdy mob, grabbing all of their belongings as the final bell rang.

"Mmhmm," you hummed, waving lazily to your students as they shouted their goodbyes to both you and Bradley. His steps had him reaching you right as the last few kids left your room, and you whispered, "You'll come back?"

He reached for your hand as he said, "I'll do anything you want, Gorgeous." He must have been able to read the needy look on your face, because when you tugged on his hand, he came all the way to you. His other hand ended up at your waist as his lips found yours, and this time, the feather light kisses deepened as you parted your lips. Bradley groaned softly, kissing you just right, and then he whispered, "I've been dying for this."

Your arms went around his neck, kissing him a little frantically, melting at his touch and the feel of his soft, wavy hair between your fingers. "Me too," you told him before pulling his bottom lip gently between yours. He backed you up until you bumped into your desk, and all you could think about was how good his weight would feel on top of you.

Your skin felt too hot when he finally broke the kiss, panting softly as you ran your thumb along his scars. "I didn't like not hearing from you the past two weeks," you told him, and his brown eyes softened even as his hold on you tightened a little bit. "It was... kind of scary."

"I didn't like it either," he told you. "And I was going to text you immediately when we docked this morning, but then I decided to just come here instead." He grinned as your fingers crept back up into his hair. "If they didn't let me sign in with my military ID in the front office, I don't know what I would have done. I just wanted to see you."

You kissed his chin and said, "Usually I hate surprises. But this one was perfect."

"Okay, see, that's good information to know," he rasped. "I only got a ride home long enough to throw my duffle in the front door and hop in my Bronco. I stopped for the flowers, and then I just wanted to get here with my notebook."

You tipped your head back and whispered, "How am I supposed to deal with how sweet you are?"

"Oh! That reminds me," he muttered, rubbing his hand along your back before releasing you and strolling over to where he left his notebook on Oliver's desk. The way your body wanted you to follow him was surprising, but it gave you a chance to look at him again from head to toe as you stood next to your desk. There was nothing out of place on this man, and you pressed your lips together as his bicep flexed against his shirt sleeve. He tore another sheet of paper from his notebook and said, "I have one more note to deliver."

He walked back over to you, and when he held it up with a hopeful look, you took it from him and read.

Hey, Gorgeous. I couldn't wait one more minute to see you. And now that I'm here, I don't want today to end. Is there any way I can convince you to let me take you out for our first official date tonight instead of tomorrow? Bradley

When you looked up from the page, his eyebrows were raised, and that crooked little grin was hovering close to the surface. "I know I said to plan for tomorrow, but I can't fucking wait that long."

You bit down on your lip, shocked by how much better today turned out to be than you could have ever imagined earlier this morning. "Yeah. You've convinced me, Bradley. Tonight sounds perfect."

With that, you were treated to a little smirk beneath his mustache. He carefully took the sheet of notebook paper from your hands, set it down next to the flowers on your desk and proceeded to kiss you senseless.

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He's going to make me hyperventilate. Those kids were SO excited to have him in their classroom, but they were nowhere near as excited as Gorgeous! He's home! And he wants to have his beach picnic and takeout and makeout sesh immediately. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 9

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trickphotography2 · 2 months ago

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good to come home to (but not to stay)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x unnamed female!reader

Word count: 11.4k (sorry, it's a really long one)

Synopsis: "It doesn't mean anything." It was just a fling. A friends with benefits situation. Sleeping with Jake was never meant to be more than that. But when you start to catch feelings and have a new assignment, the 10 month hook up had to end. Deploying on the USS Theodore Roosevelt would give you enough time to get him out of your system. Or so you thought.

Written for @mjisbby who requested a cryptic pregnancy fic.

Warning: This fic does include angst, mutual pining/believed unrequited love, a cryptic pregnancy, and the panic of finding that out.

18+, minors DNI

Crossposted on Ao3 | My Masterlist

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“Nat!”

The weight lifted from your shoulders as your knee hit the ground, the clink of metal on metal nearly drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears. “Alright, you’re done,” Natasha hissed, crouching to meet your gaze. Breathing through the cramps, you nodded. When she’d suggested working out, you certainly hadn’t anticipated your uterus's betrayal, nearly making you collapse during a squat.

“Agreed,” you grunted, resisting the urge to press a hand to your lower stomach. Feeling eyes on you, you took her outstretched hand and let the pilot pull you to your feet. Pain made you sway, and her other arm quickly steadied you.

“Shit - you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” Forcing a smile, you shrugged as the pain started to fade. “My uterus is just hating me today.” The other woman winced in sympathy. Glancing over her shoulder, you caught Jake watching you, paused in the middle of a set of bicep curls. He raised his eyebrow, and you quickly looked away.

It'd been awkward since ending your friends-with-benefits agreement. And, while you sometimes regretted that night when you told him it was over - replaying that flash of confusion on his face that quickly disappeared under a mask of indifference - you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. When you started your arrangement, you agreed it was casual and had no expectations. The moment you realized you were falling for the arrogant aviator, you’d ended it in a much-needed moment of self-preservation. It was better to cut things off before you got hurt, trying to pretend that you didn’t wish that Jake was open to a relationship.

You could have had a clean break if it hadn’t been for the deployment. San Diego was a big enough city, and you weren’t even stationed on the same base - while he was on North Island, you were stationed at NAS San Diego. You’d only crossed paths because Nat had decided to join the women’s softball team and invited you to the Hard Deck after practice. While you had some exposure to pilots after participating in briefings, being surrounded by them in a bar was overwhelming - at one point, you leaned over and whispered to Nat, “So when are they going to just whip their dicks out and measure? Jesus Christ, the egos.”

And Jake was the worst. You’d watched him prowl the bar, flirting with women who giggled and batted their eyes whenever he smirked at them. Wearing a pair of your PT shorts as a raspberry bloomed on your thigh from sliding into home plate, you weren’t a match for the women in sundresses and perfect makeup. After finishing your beer, you bid your teammate and her crew goodbye and headed home for a hot shower.

It wasn’t until the third time you joined Nat at the bar that you talked to the guy everyone called Hangman. Still wearing your khakis, you’d come straight from work, ready to forget the week. While you enjoyed working with newly enlisted sailors, training them to do daily briefings for higher-ups was always a nightmare. You’d spent most of the day reviewing a report and triple-checking the work of a kid straight out of basic. Realistically, he should have had more time to observe briefings, but your boss liked to throw the new guys into the mix to get their feet wet. Remembering the anxiety you’d had the first time you’d briefed an admiral after commissioning, you always offered your help to anyone who wanted an extra set of eyes and ears.

So when a song by a country artist you liked came on the jukebox, you hummed along, beer bottle resting against your lower lip as you watched Nat’s pool game with her friends and tried to push thoughts of telemetry out of your head. “You like country?” A drawl came from beside you. Startled, your gaze met a pair of sea-green eyes.

“It’s not my favorite, but I like some of it,” you shrugged. Jake nodded, gaze flitting to your name tag.

“You’re Phoenix’s friend, right?” After a few weeks, you recognized your friend’s callsign and nodded. “You the college softball player she’s on the MWR league with?”

“Yeah.”

“You play for a team I’d know?”

“Do you watch a lot of college softball?” you smirked. Amusement flickered in his gaze, and you shrugged. “It wasn’t a D-1 school, so probably not.”

“What position do you play?”

“Second base and backup pitcher.”

He nodded, leaning against the wall beside you. “You’re in intel, right?”

“Yup.”

His gaze darted to your beer, and he tilted his head toward the bar. “Want another one?”

At practice the next day, Nat warned you about Jake’s reputation. You shrugged it off. Having a beer with a guy in a crowded bar didn’t mean anything, even if some of that time was spent at the jukebox picking out the soundtrack for the night.

When the season's first game came around, you were somewhat surprised by the cheering section in the stands. You spotted Nat chatting with her coworkers through the fence as you warmed up with a teammate. Only reflex kept you from taking the neon softball to the face when Jake turned. Even wearing sunglasses, you could feel his gaze trained on you.

The game went smoothly, and you and Nat worked like a well-oiled machine. In the fourth inning, she fielded a ball with a wicked bounce hit straight at her at shortstop, flicking it to you to get the out on second before you turned and fired it at first. The double play ended the inning, and you slapped gloves together before returning to the dugout, listening to the hoots and hollers of your team’s cheering section.

“The pitch just looks weird,” Rooster huffed. “The wind-up is off.”

“It’s just different,” you argued. “You guys pitch overhand while we do it underhand.”

“And you’re closer to the plate, so it’s easier to hit,” Fanboy added. Raising an eyebrow, you turned toward the man, folding your arms over your chest and cocking your hip.

“Ever seen the video of Jennie Finch striking out MLB players?” When they shook their heads, you pulled out your phone and made them watch a Cardinals player get struck out in four pitches.

Which was why you found yourself on the mound the following weekend. You were rusty, but after a few pitches, you felt yourself slipping back into the competitor mindset, switching your grip to throw fastballs, curveballs, and drops. It was satisfying when Rooster ducked out of the way when you threw an inside rise, the ball smacking into Nat’s glove with a satisfying ‘thud.’ Smirking, you caught the toss back and returned to the mound, trying not to laugh as the other aviators shit-talked.

Eventually, they got a couple of foul balls and grounders. It took you much less time to adjust to the baseball pitch when it was Rooster’s turn to take the mound. “You forget,” you said, settling into your stance after hitting another line drive to third base, “most batting cages are set up for baseball.”

You could never quite figure out how you and Jake ended up alone on the field. Everyone else had left to shower and head to the bar, but you couldn’t forget the way he pinned you to the dugout fence. Your fingers ran down his chest, shirt long since abandoned, and traced his abs as he smirked against your mouth, gloves dropped at your feet. When your arms rose to wrap around his neck, knocking off his backward baseball cap, he lifted you off your feet and guided your legs around his hips, grinding his hard cock against you.

“Is that your cup, or are you happy to see me?” you teased, and he barked a laugh while squeezing your ass, rocking you against him.

“Smart ass,” he huffed. But when his hand slipped under your shirt, fingers sneaking under the cup of your sports bra, you shoved him away, feet slamming back onto the ground. Looking over his shoulder, you watched the military police vehicle drive past the field.

Alone again, you retrieved both gloves and his hat. After shoving his glove into his chest, you smirked and put his hat on your head before winking. “See you around, Jake.”

His fingers caught yours as you brushed past him. “You coming to the Hard Deck tonight?”

“That’s the plan.”

He grinned, stealing back his hat. “See you there.”

Lukewarm water washed over you as you braced against the shower wall and bit your lip against groaning.

The days before your period arrived fucking sucked.

Thankfully, you didn’t have them often. Irregular since you started, you never were able to track when Aunt Flo would arrive. Even birth control did little to help you regulate, other than having a little spotting throughout the month. But in the days leading up to her appearance, you suffered.

Turning off the water, you took the momentary reprieve from the cramps that had plagued you for a day and a half to slip on a comfy pair of sweats and a baggy shirt before crawling into your rack. Facing the steel grey wall, you curled into a ball and cradled your stomach, willing away the pain and wishing the outlet worked so you could plug in your heating pad. You already felt gross from being bloated and putting on a little bit of weight over the deployment. Stress wreaked havoc with your body, and you had acne breakouts again and noticed that your uniform was just a smidge tighter than usual.

The next cramp knocked the breath from your lungs, pain radiating down your legs and into your back as you clutched the blanket. Tensing, you curled into a tighter ball, black dots dancing in the corners of your vision as you held your breath to avoid the pain.

The mattress shifted, and you cracked one eye open. Jake stood by your bed, tugging on his boxer briefs and searching for his jeans. Light peeked beneath the blackout curtains as you watched him dress before tiptoeing from the room. When the door closed, you opened your eyes and rolled onto your back, staring unseeingly at the ceiling.

Nat had warned you.

You’d played it cool at the Hard Deck, keeping a friendly distance between yourself and Jake for most of the night. While he shot pool, you chatted with the other pilots and nursed your drink. But you’d felt sea-green eyes on you throughout the night and fingers trailing your waist when you stood by the bar together. After saying goodnight to everyone, you’d sat behind the steering wheel, scrolling for music, and nearly jumped out of your skin when there was a tapping on the car window. Jake’s grin was cocky as he motioned for you to roll it down. “You wanna get a nightcap?” he asked, leaning a forearm against the door and crowding into your space.

He’d followed you to your apartment and shared a beer while making out on the couch. Your shirt hit the floor as he rocked you against his hard cock. But when you’d reached for his straining zipper, he’d batted your hands away and maneuvered you to sit on the couch. Kneeling in front of you, he undid your jeans button and encouraged you to lift your hips so he could pull them off with your panties. “Fuck, baby,” he breathed, guiding your bare legs over his shoulder as you shrugged off your bra. “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous.” Tugging you closer, he devoured you. Your head fell back against the cushions as you moaned, feeling his chuckle against your core. He gave no quarter, chasing your pleasure with a ruthless determination. When fingers joined his tongue, you dug your fingers in his hair and tugged, his groan an echo of your own. And after you came, he kissed you hard, forcing you to taste yourself.

“Bedroom. Now,” he murmured against your mouth. You twined your fingers together, walking backward toward your room, where he continued to demonstrate precisely why his reputation was well-earned.

You’d hidden your face in the pillow as he took care of the condom afterward. And while you’d expected him to dress and leave while you took your turn cleaning up, Jake had surprised you by sliding back under the covers. He gathered you in his arms when you joined him, fingers running through your hair and skating down your back as you were lulled to sleep by the steady thumping of his heart.

Which was why his sneaking out in the morning hurt. But you’d known his reputation, and there hadn’t been any promises made past last night. After a few minutes, you forced yourself out of bed and locked the front door behind him before retreating to the bathroom and washing all traces of Hangman off you. Laundry was the first order of business when you emerged, skin raw from scrubbing.

It had been relatively easy to avoid him after that. You had no reason to be on North Island; your only connection was Nat. When he showed up in the bleachers at games, you ignored him. When he lingered like he wanted to talk to you, you volunteered to help pack the equipment and walked to your car with your teammates. Drinks at the Hard Deck were turned down, and you invited Nat to hang out with some of the officers you worked with.

But you couldn't say no when she asked you to meet her at the bar for her birthday. Pulling into the Hard Deck felt like returning to the scene of the crime, and you took a few deep breaths before getting out of the car, adjusting your jeans and tank top. Promising to get in and out after an hour, you forced yourself into the sea of flight suits and khakis. Per usual, the Daggers had taken up their post by the pool tables, and you grabbed a beer before heading their way.

The clacking of pool balls met your ears as you neared, and you felt him before seeing him. Ignoring the weight of his gaze, you brushed past Payback to hug Nat and wish her a happy birthday. Thankfully, a handful of women from the team also came, making it easier to avoid a certain aviator. Seeming to catch your intention, he also kept his distance.

Seeing Hangman flirt with a woman by the dartboard just solidified your decision to forget that night happened. You were just another hookup - no need to read more into it than necessary. When you caught him watching you dance, you forced yourself not to look away, an unwelcome flush rising in your cheeks. You could have sworn you saw the slightest flinch when the woman he was talking to touched his arm, drawing his attention away.

You told yourself the jolt of irritation you felt had nothing to do with seeing another woman’s hands on him. The smooth way he smiled at her, or the bob of his Adam’s apple when he drank. The way he leaned against the jukebox while picking out a song, beer bottle dangling from his strong fingers that had made you see stars.

A country song played as you closed your tab after saying your goodnights. Cocking your hip, you ignored the stranger beside you while signing your receipt, listening to the lyrics - “And that night we left our hearts on our sleeves and the clothes all over the floor. We both know we can't open that door no more. But she kept the hotel key.”

No one followed you into the parking lot this time.

That didn’t stop you from opening your door an hour later. You didn’t tell Jake to leave when he asked if he could come in.

“This doesn’t…mean anything,” you panted, bowing off the mattress as his hips slammed into yours. Fingers twisted in the sheets, you promised yourself that it was the last time as he lurched forward to capture your mouth.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you repeated after walking him to the door on shaking legs and flicking the lock into place early in the morning.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you told yourself, washing away Jake’s taste with a swig of his mouthwash.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you thought on a different night while dressing in the dark as he sprawled across the bed, arm outstretched toward where you'd been

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you hissed through clenched teeth while leaning over your bathroom sink to study your split lip. Pain throbbed in your outer thigh, and your knee socks were stained with blood. The slide into second had been textbook until the baseman obstructed the bag. Her shoulder hit your mouth, knocking you back so hard the helmet flew off your head when you hit the ground. The knee to the chest as the other player tried not to fall onto you wasn’t particularly fun, either. The immediate ‘oooh!’ from the spectators hadn’t helped as you rolled to your side, trying to catch your breath.

It took a minute to get up, and you felt embarrassed at the scattered applause as Nat and Mel helped you off the field. And there, waiting at the dugout as you limped in, was Jake. Brows pinched and fist clenched at his sides, he studied you as you swiped the blood from your mouth. “What do you need?”

“Water, some ice, and bandages,” Mel answered for you. She was a nurse at the base hospital when not playing on the team. Jake’s eyes shot to you before he nodded curtly and hurried to his truck. You winced as Mel checked you out for a concussion and used the old first aid kit to do her best to clean you up. Within 15 minutes, Jake returned with a bag and a cup full of ice from the NEX. You could feel Nat watching as he stood behind you, separated by the fence, Mel cleaning the abrasion on your thigh while you held the makeshift ice pack - the ice dumped into a t-shirt you recognized as his - to your mouth.

Reluctantly, you’d sat out the rest of the game and declined Nat’s offer to drive you home. After promising Mel and the rest of the team that you’d go to the hospital if you felt worse, Nat walked you to your car with your bag slung over her shoulder. “Is something going on with you and Hangman?” she asked. Your face gave you away because she shook her head. “It’s not a good idea.”

“It doesn’t mean anything.” The mantra slipped out without thought.

It played through your head when you noticed a familiar truck a few cars behind you as you drove home. When Jake took your bag from the trunk and followed you up to your apartment. Again when he appeared behind you in the bathroom, something akin to worry in his eyes as he slowly turned you around, thumb lightly stroking your swollen mouth before placing a featherlight kiss on the hurt.

“It doesn't mean anything,” you repeated when he stayed the rest of the day, sharing a shower and ordering dinner. When you watched TV and he made sure you iced your mouth. As you climbed into bed and he curled around you, his big hand spanning your stomach and lips brushing your shoulder.

You didn’t have sex at all that day.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you murmured while falling asleep.

And you dreamed of a whisper as you drifted off. “Lie to yourself more convincingly, sweetheart.”

Sweat beaded your forehead as you clutched the desk, tears clouding your vision. Pain radiated from your stomach and back. Using the desk to lower yourself to the floor, you leaned against the cabinet and curled around the heating pad. Wrapping your arms around your knees, you attempted to force the heat deeper against your revolting uterus, swallowing against the acid rising in your throat.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed there, trying to breathe through the pain. It came in waves, worsening no matter what you did. With every break, you promised to get up and go to medical for some relief. You had duty in a few hours and needed to move. With only a few days left until the end of the deployment, your team was working on getting things wrapped up and ready to transition back to working on dry land.

When the next cramp hit, you let out a low moan and clenched around the pain. Without realizing it, you held your breath, pain making your ears ring. A hand clamped on your shoulder, and you started, pulling in a deep breath and looking up at Nat’s worried gaze. You saw her lips move but were distracted by a warmth between your thighs. Unfurling slightly, you looked down and saw your sweatpants were dark and wet, the material clinging to your skin.

“I think I pissed myself,” you said in a daze before tilting your head back against the cabinet, clinging to consciousness as the pain ramped up again.

The phone lit up again, but you ignored it. Jake had already texted, asking what you were doing after work and hinting that he wanted to come over. But your period had finally shown up, and you felt like shit. With meds onboard and a heating pad on your stomach, you had no plans other than maybe Doordashing a crappy dinner and ice cream. Seeing your fuck buddy was out of the question.

With a reality show on TV, you dozed on the couch under a blanket. The plot line wasn’t catching your attention, and you mentally ran through your morning briefing. A knock on the door startled you. Reluctantly, you untangled yourself from the cocoon and went to answer it. “What are you doing here?” you demanded, opening the door to find Jake. A confusing swirl of emotions crossed his face before a smirk teased his lips.

“You didn’t answer my texts.” Annoyance surged through you.

“So you figured you’d come over? Jesus, Jake, are you that hard up for sex that you can’t go a few - ”

“What?”

“It’s not happening. Not tonight,” you snapped, attempting to shut the door. His hand shot out to catch it. You quickly stepped back when he forced his way in.

“I’m not here to fuck,” he snapped, green eyes blazing. “You didn’t answer, and I got worried. Sorry for giving a shit and checking on you.”

Crossing your arms under your aching breasts, you blinked away unbidden tears and bit your lip to keep it from wobbling as Jake scowled at you. Slowly, you blew a shuddering breath and dropped your gaze, wincing slightly as your back ached. “Sorry. I just… I don’t feel good.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You watched him step closer and saw his hand lift as though to touch you before falling back to his side. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Which is it - you don’t feel good, or it’s nothing?”

“I’m on my period,” you snapped, glaring up at him. “That’s why I don’t feel good and why we can’t have sex, okay? Happy?” While you’d expected him to recoil with disgust like every other guy you’d been with, he just shrugged.

“Okay, do you need anything?”

“Why, are you gonna go get me tampons?” you mocked.

“If you need some, yeah.” It was your turn to raise an eyebrow. “I have a sister. It wouldn’t be the first time I bought ‘em.” You ignored your fluttering heart and shook your head.

“Just go, Jake. I’m fine.” Turning away from him, you retreated to the couch. But instead of leaving, he walked to your bedroom. Squawking in irritation, you followed, hearing the shower turn on, “What the hell are you - ” When you stormed in, Jake was testing the water temperature. “What are you doing?”

All traces of irritation were gone from his expression as he closed the shower curtain and moved closer. His damp hand went to your hair, gently tugging so you tilted your head back. The kiss was soft and almost hesitant. He said your name tenderly, thumb gently stroking the curve of your ear, “You bled through your pants.”

“What?” you groaned, face flushing and tears of embarrassment wetting your eyes. But he held you still when you tried to step away.

“It’s okay. Jump in the shower and get cleaned up. Do you need anything?” You shook your head. “Have you eaten dinner?”

“I’ll order something.”

“What d’ya want?”

“A burger. And fries. And a chocolate milkshake.” He chuckled and kissed your forehead.

“Alright. Anything else?” You shook your head. “Text me if you think of anything.”

“I’ll give you my card.” Rather than fight, he followed you out of the bathroom and took the credit card you handed him and a spare key so he could lock up behind him.

Once you’d increased the temperature, the shower felt magical. You stood under the spray for a long time, letting the hot water ease your sore body. By the time Jake was back, you had enough time to dry off, get dressed, and toss your clothes in the wash. He’d left your card on the kitchen counter.

The moan you let out at the first bite of the burger made him choke on his shake. “Thought only I made you make that noise,” he said after coughing to clear his throat.

“This is the only meat going anywhere near my mouth tonight, Hangman.” Shaking his head, he wisely stayed silent as you devoured dinner. But when you expected him to leave after, he cleaned up and gently rolled you onto your side on the couch, slipping behind you and tugging the blanket over both of you. His hand slid around your front, covering yours, which held the heating pad.

“Are they freaking out about a guy eating his wife’s pussy?” he asked as the reality show continued. You sighed sleepily.

“Remind me to tell you about when I dated a Morman guy in high school and why his family still hates me.”

After the episode ended, Jake forced you to get up and followed you into the bedroom, stripping off his jeans and t-shirt. You fell asleep, wrapped in his comforting scent, his warm hand pressed to your belly.

The next morning, you woke to Jake’s alarm going off and felt his lips brush your cheek before he carefully slid out of bed. Again, you stayed silent as he dressed, quickly closing your eyes when he got close. His fingers brushed the hair from your face, and you tilted into his lingering touch. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he whispered.

When your alarm went off an hour later, you forced yourself out of bed and got ready for work. And when you went to grab your coffee creamer, there was a bag of chocolates you hadn’t purchased in the fridge.

The front door was locked, and your spare key was nowhere to be found.

You dug your nails into Jake’s back, face buried in his neck. Another wave of pain crashed over you, and you bit your tongue to keep from screaming. When Nat said she would get help, you’d expected Rooster or Bob. Instead, Jake had shouldered his way into your room and scooped you off the floor. While your general sense of direction was scrambled, you had a pretty good idea of where you were heading.

Everyone avoided medical if they could. And, as much as you wanted to keep whatever was happening off your records, something was wrong. In the recesses of your memory, you recalled when your mother’s appendix burst, and she’d been taken to emergency surgery. Would they be able to do surgery on the carrier? You were halfway between Hawaii and reaching the port in California. If they MEDEVAC’d you, would the helo get you to a hospital in time? What would happen if you didn’t get surgery fast enough?

Through the haze of pain, you heard Jake barking demands as soon as you entered the sick bay. But his touch was gentle as he laid you on the bed the corpsman directed him to. Nat spoke for you as pain froze your vocal cords, Jake’s calloused fingers brushing the sweaty hair from your forehead. Nausea gripped you, and the cramps migrated to your lower back.

And then they were gone, strangers crowding your field of vision. Unfamiliar hands tugged at your clothes and touched you as you tried to look past them. An oxygen mask was slipped over your face when you started to hyperventilate. Without thinking, you threw out an arm and felt strong fingers close around yours, squeezing tightly. Over the shoulders of the corpsman, you saw worry pinch Jake’s face, green eyes darting across your features.

Then the room seemed quiet, broken only by a nurse ordering, “Go get the doc.” Someone moved enough for him to reclaim the spot at your side. The ultrasound wand pressed into your stomach continued to move, but you focused on your breathing and the grounding feeling of Jake’s thumb stroking your cheek above the mask’s elastic band.

Someone else entered the room, and you tracked the woman as she took over the ultrasound, moving the wand across your stomach. Her brows were furrowed as she studied the image before shaking her head. When her piercing gaze lifted to meet yours, you felt the world disappear. “Lieutenant, did you know you’re pregnant?”

Exiting the LT Colonel’s office, you forced yourself to breathe. You’d known this upcoming deployment would be rough but now there was the additional stress of cross-training as an analyst. Since starting your career, your job was briefing what the analysts provided. But now? Now, your boss wanted you to start working on learning the basics of geospatial intel (GEOINT).

The carrier was the best place to start, the Colonel had explained. You would be able to see the real-time results of the analysis and the shift of assets and personnel to support the mission. “You need to do this if you’re going to advance. You’ve got the briefing down, Lieutenant, but if you want to get to Maryland, you’ll need a better understanding of what’s going on from the ground up,” he’d said.

You’d never expressed an interest in going to the Office of Naval Intelligence, but he thought you had what it took to work at the heart of Navy intel.

The rest of the day passed in a daze, and you drove home on autopilot. Nat texted, inviting you to the Hard Deck, but you declined. Standing under the shower spray, you closed your eyes and swallowed hard.

GEOINT was directly connected to missions. Its data interpretations were central to planning operations, including determining where to send assets.

Like F18s.

Pilots.

Your friends.

Nat.

Jake.

The thought of sending them into harm's way made your heart race. Delivering the information to higher-ups to allow them to determine what happened was one thing, but it was a whole other to be the one getting the raw data and interpreting it. One small decision could mean the difference between success and failure - life or death.

Could you maintain objectivity, knowing that your work might send people you lov… cared about into harm’s way?

Green eyes flashed in your vision. The phantom feeling of lips on your shoulders. Arms encircling your waist. A chuckle rang in your ears.

No. If you had to do this - if it was your career or a man - you would choose your career. It mattered more than a fling that you’d let go on too long. You’d known from the beginning that the clock was ticking on your… whatever… with Jake. Nat had warned you from the start that he didn’t do relationships. And you weren’t looking for one. “It doesn’t mean anything,” you told yourself again. Sex didn’t mean anything. You enjoyed each other, and you were guaranteed an orgasm or three every time he came over.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you said, ignoring the extra toothbrush in the cabinet.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you repeated, pushing aside his t-shirt that had somehow ended up in your drawer.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” you snapped, swiping away the picture he’d texted of his bed, the covers pulled back on the side you usually slept on with an invitation to come over.

“Pregnant?” Jake’s voice cut through your shock. “She’s not pregnant - I mean, look at her!”

“I am,” the doctor said coolly, pushing the ultrasound wand into your stomach and turning the screen. And there, for everyone to see, was a baby.

“That’s not - ” you forced out before grunting as another cramp hit. Gasping, you clutched Jake’s hand tightly, feeling his shaking. The doctor quickly cleared the room of unnecessary personnel and stood at your feet.

“Lieutenant, I need to check, but I believe you're in labor.” You shook your head, tears blurring your vision. “I’ll wait until the contraction ends, but I need to see how far along you are. How long have you been in pain?”

The USS Theodore Roosevelt should have been your refuge. Nine months at sea was precisely what you needed to get Jake Seresin out of your system.

But fate was cruel, and a few members of the Dagger Squad were assigned to the carrier for the deployment. Nat shared the news when you went out for dinner, your counter for her asking to meet for drinks at the Hard Deck. If you never went to the pilot bar again, it would be too soon. And you were sure Jake would welcome your staying away.

It would be a long time before you forgot his look of surprise as you tumbled out of his bed and dressed quickly. Having sex one last time had been a mistake, especially when you’d gone over with the express purpose of ending it. After almost a year of messing around, he deserved more than a text, but your resolve faltered when he crowded you against the kitchen counter and stole kisses as he made dinner.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you said, tugging on your shirt, unable to meet his gaze.

“What?”

“This. I can’t…” From the corner of your eye, you saw him sit up, sheets pooling in his lap. “I don’t think we should.” While you’d tried to make yourself sound confident, your statement came out as a question.

“Why?”

“It’s not a good idea,” you stated. Your treacherous heart fractured when you forced yourself to look up. Confusion was etched across his face, hair a mess from your fingers running through it. Taking a deep breath, you forced a smile onto your wobbling lips. “It’s been fun.”

“‘It’s been fun’,” he echoed. And then, between one blink and the next, his expression smoothed into a mask of indifference. “It didn’t mean anything.”

“It didn’t mean anything.” You rolled your lips together to hide your wobbling chin.

Preparing to deploy kept you busy over the next few weeks. In addition to packing, you had to meet with your property management to renew your lease and make sure they would check on your apartment while you were gone. Bills needed to be put on autopay, and your credit card company notified that you would be out of the country. You had an appointment to get a Power of Attorney set up for your parents and Will updated. A few days before you were to leave, they were planning to fly out to see you off at the port and drive your car back home so they could maintain it for you. Then, you had to complete the medical and dental clearances.

The night before your parents arrived, Nat invited you to the Hard Deck to have drinks with everyone for an impromptu farewell party. It sounded more fun than cleaning out your pantry for anything that would expire while you were gone, but the odds of Jake being there were too high. When you texted to decline, her response made you pause.

Look, I know whatever was happening between you and Hangman ended. He’s been a depressing asshole. But he’s not gonna be there tonight. Think about coming?

The idea of Jake being sad made your stomach sink, reinforcing your decision to end it. Your arrangement was just supposed to be sex, and somewhere along the way, you’d started to fall for him. Which you couldn’t do. Not if you wanted to advance your career and protect your stupid heart.

So, against your better judgment, you stripped off your clothes, dirty from cleaning the house, and stepped into the shower. The whole way to the bar, you toyed with the hem of your dress, promising to be in and out in an hour. Just enough time to have a drink and say bye to everyone before returning to your tasks. It was a surprise to see Nat waiting in the parking lot, and she hurried over to your car as you parked. “Okay, don’t hate me,” she said as soon as you opened the door.

“He’s here,” you guessed, resisting the urge to start the engine.

“He got here a minute ago. I swear, he said he wasn’t coming.” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you took a deep breath.

“It’s fine.” Lie. “We’re gonna see each other on the carrier. Might as well get used to it.”

You felt his gaze as soon as you walked in and forced yourself not to look for him. With a beer in hand, you followed Nat to the - thankfully Jake-free - pool table and greeted the other aviators. While you’d planned on having just the one drink, shots were quickly pressed into your hand as everyone wanted to buy for the poor suckers facing months without alcohol. Your attempts to turn them down were ignored. But no amount of alcohol could numb the jolt of pain when you saw Jake casually toss his arm over another woman’s shoulders, pulling her close to whisper in her ear.

A surge of hate shot through you like a lightning bolt. Hate for him touching her. For her flirty giggle and fingers toying with his flight suit zipper. For your letting yourself have feelings for him. For coming out tonight and getting tipsy enough that you couldn’t drive for a little while.

“I’m gonna get some air,” you told Nat, giving her a fake smile.

“Want me to come with?” she asked, concern furrowing her brow.

“Nah, finish your game with the guys. I’ll be back in a bit.” Dropping your empty beer bottle on the bar, you pushed through the late evening crowd to get to the patio. The cool night air was a welcomed counterpoint to your flushed cheeks as you brushed past the people mingling to get to the stairs. Your feet slid in the sand as you walked to the shore after kicking off your shoes. Moving away from the lights and noise from the Hard Deck, you walked along the waterline, waves crashing over your feet. Tears pricked your eyes, and you swallowed the scream that threatened to choke you.

Two and a half weeks. That’s all it took for him to find your replacement in his bed. It was good that you’d swallowed those three words that had threatened to spill from your lips every time he left. When he did something so sweet, you could pretend he cared about more than sex. When you fell asleep with his heartbeat under your cheek or his breath on the back of your neck, fingers drawing nonsensical patterns on your skin.

The sound of footsteps drew you from your thoughts, and you looked over your shoulder, spotting the person you didn’t want to see jogging toward you. Quickly dashing away the tears on your cheeks, you kept walking, ignoring his calls for you to stop. And then he was there, planting himself in front of you and blocking your way. You itched to throw your shoes at him and took some satisfaction when the next wave washed over his boots and soaked the legs of his suit. “What?” you demanded.

“‘What?’” he echoed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re the one who stormed out.”

“I didn’t ‘storm out,’” you snapped. “I needed some air.”

“Why?”

“Because!” He stepped closer, and you tried to step back, but your feet had sunk into the sand, and you stumbled. Jake’s hand shot out to steady you, and you quickly shook it off. “Don’t touch me.”

“Don’t touch you. Don’t talk to you. Can I look at you, or is that against your rules?” Sarcasm colored his voice, and you bristled.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t.”

A huff of disbelief burst from him, and he ran through his hair. “Why the hell are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

“Leave me alone, Jake.” Your shoulders knocked when you pushed past him.

“You don’t get to be pissed when you’re the one who ended it.”

“And I can tell you’re real torn up about that. I’m sure that tag chaser is more than happy to kiss you all better.”

His laugh was cruel. “Oh, so that’s what this is about. You’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous!”

“Lie to yourself more convincingly, sweetheart.” Those taunting words were like a dagger to the heart. Gritting your teeth, you stormed toward him, lifted your hands, and shoved. Jake stumbled but managed to stay on his feet. You shoved again, and he caught your hands, using them to pull you closer. Trapping both of your wrists in one hand against his chest, he tossed your shoes further up the beach before clamping an arm around your waist, holding you tightly. “You didn’t like seeing me touch her, did you? Only want me to touch you? Fuck you and make you feel good?”

“No,” you said through clenched teeth. The arm around your waist disappeared as he gently wiped the tears from your cheek.

“‘No’ you didn’t care, or ‘no’ you only want me touching you?”

“No.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “It didn’t mean anything.”

“It didn’t mean anything,” you reminded yourself. His eyes roamed your face, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.

“You know… you might be the worst thing that ever happened to me,” he said, shaking his head. Your breath caught as he released your hands and stepped back. Turning away, he moved up the beach and retrieved your shoes. You followed in a daze, trying to process his words. The worst thing that ever happened to him? You?

Your fingers grazed when he handed you the shoes. The weak moonlight cast shadows over his features, giving you a false sense of safety when you admitted, “I was jealous.” Jake lifted a hand before letting it drop back to his side. Pushing aside your rational self, you stepped into his space and pushed onto your toes, hand splayed on his chest. When you kissed him, he didn’t respond, and mortification washed through you as you fell back onto your heels. “I-I’m sorry,” you stuttered, stepping away from him and turning toward the Hard Deck. You needed to leave. You needed to get away from him. Space to clear your -

A hand tugged you backward. Jake’s mouth crashed into yours, tongue tracing the seam of your lips and demanding entry. Your shoes hit the sand again, one hand tangling in his hair while the other felt his heart pounding under your palm. His hand slid under the hem of your dress, cupping your ass, hauling you against him. You moaned into his kiss, fingers flumbling with his flight suit zipper, needing to erase everywhere that woman had touched him.

The sand was cool under your knees when he lowered you both to the ground before pulling you into his lap. He shrugged off his flight suit and let you pull off his shirt before slipping the thin straps of your dress from your shoulders and tugging it down, stroking your nipples through your bra before lifting your breast from the cups. Trailing kisses from your mouth down your chest, Jake lavished your breasts with attention as you ground down on his hard cock. Groaning, his fingers slipped under your dress to brush your damp panties. He swallowed your choked moan when he tugged them to the side and ran his thumb over your clit.

“No time,” you breathed, lifting yourself onto your knees and tugging his zipper further down. Reaching into his briefs, you stroked his cock before drawing it out. Your head fell back as you sank down onto him, the stretch tiptoeing the line of pain and pleasure. Jake cursed under his breath, hands on your hips to help guide you. Once seated, you buried your face in his neck, panting as his fingers flexed around you.

“Need ta move, sweetheart,” he breathed. “Please.” Not shifting from your spot, you nodded and felt his tentative thrusts. Moaning into his skin, you let him set the pace for a minute before taking control. Jake pinched your nipples, smirking against your chest as you rode him until you tugged his head back and kissed him. Those three words were on the tip of your tongue as you chased your pleasure, shattering around him as the waves crashed on the shore. Jake came moments later, teeth digging into the curve of your breast as he grunted and whimpered.

You traded lazy kisses while catching your breath. When the ocean breeze made you shiver, Jake helped you dress, sitting still when you used his shoulders to steady yourself as you stood. He tucked himself away, and you helped brush the sand from each other after he dressed. His fingers tangled in yours as you made your way back to the bar, your thighs sticky with his cum.

His lips brushed your as you separated before hitting the patio. Once inside, you beelined for the bathroom to clean up. While washing your hands, you studied your reflection, noting the flush on your cheeks and the irritation spots on your throat and chest where Jake’s stubble had scratched you. It wouldn’t be hard for anyone to figure out what you’d been doing.

Exiting the bathroom, your gaze swept the room. You froze in the hallway, eyes snagging on where Jake stood at the bar, the woman from before beside him. He nodded at something she said while flagging down a bartender. And when he turned to glance at her, she reached up and kissed him. Nausea gripped your stomach, and you looked away. You were an idiot. Hurrying to the pool table, you grabbed your purse and said goodnight.

As you pulled out of the parking spot, you saw Jake standing in the doorway, watching you leave.

“I can’t be p-pregnant,” you gasped, ripping the oxygen mask from your face. “I-I would have known.” Pain flickered across your face, and your grip on Jake’s hand tightened as the doctor inserted her fingers, her face a mask of concentration.

“Well, you are,” she said after a moment. “And the baby’s coming. You’re almost fully dilated.”

“What?” Your voice melded with Jake’s. You shook your head, panic gripping your throat. “No. No, no, no, no.” As soon as the doctor’s hand left your body, you tried to get off the exam table. Your knees buckled, and Jake caught you before you hit the floor. You buried your face in his neck. “No. This is a nightmare, I’m not - I can’t - ”

“Lieutenant,” the doc said, crouching beside you. “I know this is scary and not something you were prepared for, but I need you to listen to everything I tell you, alright? You’re too far along for us to MEDEVAC you off the ship. You’re gonna have your little one right here. Alright?”

“No.”

“I need to let the captain know. We’ll move you to where we have a little more room to navigate this, okay? I’ll send one of the corpsmen in to help you get as comfortable as we can make you for this. Please work with us so we can ensure you and your baby deliver safely.” When you groaned, Jake’s fingers raked through your hair and then lightly squeezed the back of your neck. Pain gripped you, and your hands twisted in his t-shirt as you tensed.

He drew away, hands on either side of your face as green eyes bore into yours. “I need you to breathe, sweetheart. Don’t hold your breath on me. Breathe.”

Even while sharing a stateroom with Nat, you were able to avoid Jake for the most part. But even though there were 6,000 people on board, you still ran into one another occasionally. In the wardroom, you shook off Nat’s waves to join their table and sat with your team instead. The few times you went to the gym at the same time, you used the equipment furthest away from him and kept your headphones on.

Your new assignment kept you busy. In addition to preparing and delivering briefings, you started working with the analysts to learn how to process the raw data you usually received in a polished format. It didn’t help that, as usual, for your first few weeks underway, you felt gross. Being in close quarters with so many people made common illnesses run rampant, and your stomach always took a little while to get used to the food in the wardroom. You fell into bed exhausted at night, stressing about what you would face the next day.

The first time your data was used for the pilot’s briefing, you were invited into the classroom to listen to the admiral brief the aviators. And, while you nodded to Nat when she smiled at you, you kept your expression blank as you followed the admiral to the front of the room, ignoring the eyes boring into you.

The carrier hit rough seas around Australia five months into the deployment. In the lower decks, you could feel the ship rolling and knew that topside had to be worse. The constant rocking made you nauseous, but you stayed at your desk. It wasn’t until you went to the coffee shop that you heard what was happening with the aviators. They’d been ordered out for pitching deck training. Takeoff and landing were dangerous at the best of times, but now they had to do it as the ground rolled beneath them. “Gonna have a shit ton of bolters,” the sailor ahead of you said to his buddy. You remembered Nat using that term - it was when the pilot missed the wire and had to circle to try and land again.

Later that afternoon, you heard the tankers were deploying to aid the planes in the air. Your team was tasked with finding the nearest divert field if conditions worsened and the pilots couldn’t land. But you were more than 700 miles from land. There were no options.

Dinner in the wardroom was a tense affair, the officers sharing what they could about their friends stuck in the air. Rumor had it that they’d scrubbed the mission, grounding all aircraft except the tankers to refuel the jets. As night fell, you knew it would only get worse for your friends as they tried to get back onto the ship. After forcing down a few bites of dinner, you went to the gym, where the bay doors were usually open, and you could see the aircraft line up before landing. Everyone else seemed to have the same idea, as you were told it was useless before you got close. “They close the doors - waves are too high,” another officer said.

You could feel the carrier rocking side to side the higher you got. Unsure of where else to go, you went to the Ready Room. Pilots watched the radar, commenting on their colleague's attempts and laughing at the jets overhead. “Sorry,” you said, tapping one of the men on the shoulder. “Any updates on Phoenix, Rooster, and Hangman?”

The pilot gave you a look, clearly indicating you weren’t welcome into their inner sanctuary. “Still in the air,” he said after a beat. “Nine jets and three tankers are up.” You nodded your thanks, jumping as there was a thud overhead followed by the roar of an engine.

“Thanks, I-I appreciate it.” Hurrying out of the room, you debated your next move. There was no way they’d be letting anybody up on deck to watch, and your normal vantage point was closed. There was a chance you could hear what was going on if you returned to your desk - if anyone had to ditch their jet and search and rescue was deployed, that would be announced. Waiting in your room for Nat to come back was out of the question.

With no good options, you paced the hallway outside of the Ready Room. All of the jet pilots would eventually make their way there to debrief or join the watch with their colleagues. As the ship rocked, you found yourself catching the walls. Typically, on a ship this big, you didn’t feel the waves, so the swells had to be massive.

After chewing your nails down to the quick, you looked up when someone called your name. Nat and Bob were there, looking tired but no worse for the wear. Without thinking, you hurried toward them, throwing your arms around Nat and hugging her tightly before pulling away and doing the same with Bob. “Fuck, I’ve been so worried.”

“We’re good,” Bob assured you, patting your back before pulling away. “Ready for somethin’ to eat and a shower, but other than that, completely fine.”

“What about J - Rooster and Hangman?” you demanded, catching yourself.

“Still circling. I’d say they’ve got another few passes before it gets desperate,” Nat shrugged. At your look of alarm, she shook her head. “They’re gonna be fine. They’ll refuel if they need to - the tankers are gonna be staggered for landing to make sure that there’s support in the air if they need it.”

“Okay,” you nodded, forcing a smile. “Alright. Do you need anything? Can I get you anything?”

“I’d kill for something to drink,” Nat said.

“Yeah, okay,” you nodded. “I-I’ll run to the store. Bob?”

“Jerky’d be good.”

“You got it. Meet you back here?”

“We’ll be in there. Just come on in,” Nat said before you hugged them both quickly and walk-ran to the Ship’s Store. The line outside moved agonizingly slow, and you tapped your foot and looked at your watch more than once. This far below deck, you couldn’t hear anything overhead. When you finally got inside, you filled the basket to the brim with snacks and sodas, glad you’d grabbed your wallet with your Navy Cash card before leaving the room.

By the time you returned to the Ready Room, Rooster had landed. His curls were damp with sweat, and he accepted your hug before grabbing some chips from the bags you’d dropped on the table. The snacks had bought your way into the room, as the pilots didn’t say anything as you clung to the wall, listening to them analyze every approach.

Another pilot entered and grabbed a soda. “Dude, what the fuck?” he laughed while hugging a friend. “I thought I was gonna hit the back of the ship. I looked down, and then WHOOP - I’m wavin’ down at them cause the ship dropped.” He held up his hand to show how much it trembled, which worried you more than anything else.

Bile rose in your throat as you watched the radar, listening as they laughed as someone hit the deck too hard and bounced, missing the wires and taking off to circle again. “Hangman’s approaching,” Bob told you, his eyes glued to the television. You crossed your arms over your chest and chewed on your thumbnail again as you watched the approach.

A thud overhead followed by a quick “Hell yes!” let you know he’d caught the wire. Unwelcome tears of relief flooded your eyes, and you quickly blinked them away. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you let yourself sag against the wall. He was safe onboard, and that’s all that mattered. “I-I’m gonna head back to the room,” you said, pushing through the small crowd to Nat.

“Alright. I’m gonna watch everyone else land and then grab some food.” Nodding, you pulled your friend in for a tight hug, biting back a sob before fleeing the room.

You must have lingered longer than you thought because, when you stepped into the hallway, you spotted Jake walking toward the Ready Room. He was looking at the floor, scrubbing a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, helmet swinging from his hand. You stopped dead in your tracks and watched as he registered your presence. Something flickered in his eyes, and his long legs ate the distance between you. The helmet clattered on the floor as he reached for you, cupping your face in his gloved hand and kissing you hard. Your arms went around him, clutching as tightly as you could in his g-suit, needing the reassurance that he was fine. His tongue swept into your mouth, a moan rumbling in his throat.

When you broke apart to breathe, his forehead rested on yours, his breath washing over your face. “You’re okay?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said, throat bobbing before kissing you more gently this time. His thumb stroked your cheek, wiping away the tears you hadn’t realized had fallen. “I’m alright, sweetheart. Tired and hungry, but okay.”

“Good,” you nodded before repeating yourself. “Good. There’s soda and sn-snacks in the R-Ready Room.” Nodding again, you forced a smile while stepping out of his arms.

“Sweet - ”

“Don’t.” Your voice cracked as you held out a shaking hand. “Please don’t. Just…just leave it.”

That didn’t keep him from reaching for you as you brushed past, his fingers trailing down your arm before you shook him off.

The next hour passed in a blur of pain and confusion, ending in a surge of pain and then relief as they placed a squalling baby on your chest. Jake held your hand throughout the ordeal, encouraging you to breathe and push, ignoring the way you hissed, “I hate you so much,” through the worst of it. When the nurse snapped that you needed to breathe normally, not like a pilot, he quickly adjusted his coaching, afraid of getting kicked out of the room.

Staring into your son’s eyes, you felt a sense of utter disbelief in his existence. You’d carried him for months, oblivious to his presence as he grew inside you. But you cried when they took him, tracking the little stranger as he was moved around the room until he was safely back in your arms, wrapped in a rough Navy standard-issue blanket.

“He’s small but healthy - 5 pounds, 4 ounces, and 17 inches long,” the doc said, smiling tiredly. “There’s a helo inbound with supplies, but we’ll make due for now. Congrats, Mom.” Unable to speak around the lump in your throat, you nodded, cradling the boy to your chest and laughing at the small grunts he made as he nuzzled your breast. Jake stroked the baby’s whispy hair before running his thumb over the tiny shell of his ear.

“He’s so small,” he breathed. “Fuck - ”

“Don’t,” you said, cutting him off. “Don’t cuss around my s-” Clapping a hand to your mouth, you tried to stifle your sob as tears streamed down your face. “My son,” you forced out, trailing the tip of your finger down his button nose. He scrunched his face, tiny fists waving in the air. You caught one, unfurling his fingers and letting them close around your fingertip. You were enraptured by his tiny fingernails and lines in his palm, gently guiding it to your mouth to kiss his knuckles. His eyes opened, meeting yours. “Hi, baby,” you whispered, “I’m your mama.”

Later, Jake sat in the chair beside your bed as you slept. His shirt was off as he cradled the baby to his chest, staring at the impossible little boy. There was a knock at the door, and he looked up to see the Captain peek in. Jake moved as though to stand, but the older man held up a hand to stop him. “At ease, Lieutenant. Just wanted to stop in and see how the little stowaway was doing.”

“Great,” he replied, flushing slightly at being shirtless in front of his commanding officer. “Sleeping now.”

“Good. And Mom?” the Captain asked, his eyes darting toward where you slept.

“Good. In shock, but good.”

“I can imagine. May I?” He motioned toward the baby. Reluctant to let him go, Jake handed him over, ensuring the Captain supported his head. “He’s a tiny one, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.” Jake nodded.

“Doc told me that everyone was doing well, but I’ll feel better once the Lieutenant and this little guy are on their way back to shore. The helo just landed with diapers, an incubator, and formula, so we’ll get them fueled up and ready to head out in the next few hours.”

“Right.” The word was strangled, and Jake reached out for the baby. The Captain handed him back with a practiced ease.

“We’re due in port in three days. Just a temporary separation, Lieutenant,” he said, clapping Jake on the shoulder. “Little man’s gonna need to get used to it, with two parents in the Navy.” Jake cleared his throat, regretting it the instant the baby flailed, tiny fists raising and resting on his cheek. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. They’ll let you know when it’s time.”

“Sir.” With a nod and handshake, the Captain walked toward the door, pausing at the threshold.

“Does he have a name?”

“Not yet.” He smiled, tapping his fist against the wall.

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something. Maybe a nod to where he was born?”

Jake thought that watching you being loaded into the helo with the baby in a plastic box and flying away was the hardest thing he’d done. But the next three days at sea were a test of his patience. He fantasized about stealing his jet and flying after you, ignoring the logistics of loading it onto the catapult and that his plane wouldn’t reach California without a refuel. Knowing that you and the baby weren’t on the carrier felt like a hole in his heart.

It was difficult to explain what happened to Bradley and Bob, and he was thankful Nat was there to help.

The Captain announced the birth over the intercom before you were loaded onto the helo, explaining that the carrier was one heavy and your son the first baby born on the ship. It was all anyone could talk about for the rest of the deployment. Hell, the Navy Times even wrote an article that was picked up by other news agencies. Everyone wondered how you didn’t know you were pregnant. Those who worked closest with you defended you, pointing out that no one would have guessed you were pregnant. And when it came out that you weren’t married, they questioned who the father was.

It wasn’t a surprise when Nat cornered him, demanding an answer to that question. His response was a definitive “Me.” Jake knew in his gut that the baby was his. He’d looked into his eyes and felt a connection he’d never experienced.

Besides, the window of time for you to have gotten pregnant between your pre-deployment exam and getting on the carrier was narrow. There was no one else.

Calling his family and explaining everything that happened had been hard. While his parents were excited by the idea of a grandchild with the woman they’d heard so much about, his sister cautioned him against claiming the baby without confirmation of paternity. He knew she was a bit suspicious of you, especially after he made the mistake of calling one morning after you’d left, and he’d heard you mutter those four words he despised - “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“You can’t make her want something more than casual if that’s what you started with,” she’d cautioned, reminding him that you’d locked him out of your apartment that first morning when he left to pick up breakfast and hadn’t opened the door when he knocked. “She’s being upfront with you, at least.” But her advice didn’t stop him from trying to show you how much more he wanted, afraid that if he said the words aloud that he'd whispered when you slept in his arms, you’d run for the hills.

Launch day couldn’t come soon enough. After nine months on the Roosevelt, Jake was ready to get home. Three days without his son was torture, and he was ready to get home to both of you. Flying in formation back to North Island tested his patience, and he pushed past the families rushing the flight line to greet their loved ones. Nat had argued with him about taking your things, but they were quickly unloaded from his cargo pod. Coyote had dropped off his truck earlier, leaving the keys hidden under the fuel door. While his friend had offered to pick him up, Jake didn’t want to waste time. Besides, he’d see him later - rather than keeping his place during the deployment, he’d broken his apartment lease and put everything into storage. Rather than pay rent, he’d saved the money and planned to sleep on Coyote’s couch until he got a new place.

Standing in front of a wall of diapers at the store confused the shit out of him, so Jake grabbed a premie and newborn box before detouring to the flowers. The bouquets weren’t the best, but he didn’t have time to visit an actual florist. Picking the best of the options, he checked out and headed to your place.

A strange woman answered the door. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of him in his flight suit and messy hair, flowers in hand, and two boxes of diapers at his feet. “Can I help you?”

“Ma’am,” Jake said, clearing his throat. “I’m, um, I’m here to see - ”

An angry squawk drew his attention, and he looked over the woman’s shoulder to see you walking out of the bedroom. “I can’t get him to bur…” you trailed off, catching sight of Jake in your doorway. You breathed his name, hand pausing on your son’s back as he howled.

“Excuse me,” Jake said, brushing past your mother and striding across your living room. He hesitated in front of you before lifting a hand and covering yours, his thumb lightly stroking the back of your hand. “Can I?” Stunned, you nodded, accepting the roses he handed you in exchange for the baby. You watched as Jake held him to his shoulder, his big hand spanning the baby’s back and patting. “Hey, little man, are you giving Mama a hard time?”

“I’m gonna take the trash out,” your mother said after stacking the diaper boxes beside the TV stand. You nodded wordlessly, unable to look away from Jake as he walked around your living room, patting the baby’s back and cooing until he let out a loud belch.

“Good man,” Jake chuckled, kissing his cheek.

“I didn’t realize what day it was. We just got out of the hospital yesterday,” you rambled. “The pediatrician said he’s perfect. I-I didn’t screw him up too much.” Tears clouded your vision, and you bit your lower lip when it wobbled.

“Hey, sweetheart - it’s okay. C’mere.” Jake held out an arm for you, and you allowed yourself to be pulled into his embrace, feeling his lips on the top of your head. “It’s alright, I’ve gotcha. Both of you.”

“He’s yours,” you sobbed. “I swear. W-we can d-do a paternity t-test - ”

“I know he is.”

“He has my last n-name, but I got the paperwork to c-change that if - if that’s what y-you want.”

“We’ll start with that one,” Jake said, tugging closer. “Won’t we, Teddy?”

There were so many things you needed to talk about. So much that needed to be done - including introducing himself to who he suspected was Teddy’s other grandmother, and preparing for his family visit with his niece and nephew. But that didn’t matter, as Jake felt his son’s fingers curl into the collar of his flight suit, and you sagged against him.

Jake had everything he needed.

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Author's Note: I really thought this one wasn't gonna be this long BUT I managed to cut it down about 800 words from the first draft, so success! Thank you to @mjisbby for the prompt, and I apologize for it taking so long... I know you sent in in October and wanted comedy, but the angst just came pouring out 😅

Basic the fic at sea was drawn from this inspiration, where a sailor had her baby at sea during a deployment. And the pitching deck bit came from watching this video on how dangerous it can be. All the stuff on cryptic pregnancies comes from Googling and reading Reddit boards about women not realizing their pregnancy symptoms until later in their pregnancy. All medical and military inaccuracies are being blamed on ✨fanfic logic✨

Thank you for taking the time to read this very long fic! Title comes from Nothing / Sad N Stuff from Lizzy McAlpine.

Got an ask about what happens next with this little family, so here are my thoughts.

Thank you so much for reading this. If you would like to be added to my tag list, please fill out my tag list form (hyperlinked).

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#hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #top gun fic #top gun maverick #jake seresin #Hangman top gun #soft!Jake Seresin #hangman smut #hangman fic #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman imagine

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planesawesome · 1 year ago

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A United States Navy EA-18G Growler, assigned to the Cougars of Electronic Attack Squadron 139, approaches the flight deck of the aircraft carrier USS Theodore Roosevelt.

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swantales-aw0owo0 · 8 months ago

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Just a little something I’ve been cooking (attempting to write a secretly married hangster fic so I figured out an entire timeline pre-Tg:m cause the timeline is kinda fucked in the movies)

Bradley is born in ‘84 (June 27)

Jake is born in ‘87 (January 3)

Top gun takes place in ‘86

Carole dies in ‘96 (Bradley moves in with Ice and Mav)(he’s 12)

Bradley’s papers are pulled, he begins to attend UCSD (University of California San Diego), and he stops talking to Mav in ‘02

(College in the fall of ‘02)

Jake, Javy, and Natasha all attend the US Naval Academy in Annapolis together. Jake and Javy bunk together and become fast friends/brothers. Nat becomes friends with Javy but can’t get past Jake’s persona to get along with him. ‘05

Bradley graduates with a bachelor’s degree in PoliSci and a minor in History spring of ‘06

Bradley and Jake meet in the summer of ‘06 right before Bradley goes to flight school and after Jake’s first year at the Naval Academy in Annapolis.

Bradley then goes to Pensacola for 18 months (‘06-‘07) continuing to meet up with Jake whenever possible

Bradley gets stationed at the Naval Base San Diego from ‘07-‘08

Bradley is invited to and wins Top Gun in ‘08 before being sent to the Naval Air Station Jacksonville

Jake, Javy, and Nat all graduate from the Naval Academy in ‘08 and then spend 18 months in Pensacola for flight school (‘08-‘09)

Javy and Jake are stationed together

Nat gets stationed with Bradley who’s heard his boyfriend (husband) complaining about her and befriends her.

Jake, Javy, and Nat all attend Top Gun together in ‘09 and Bradley is sent back to NAS San Diego. This is when Nat finds out about their relationship. Jake scrapes a win at top gun, very closely followed by Nat then Javy.

December 18 ‘10 DADT is repealed

They fly up to Vermont to get married in a courthouse and then “honeymoon” in NY December 21 ‘11 after taking time off for Christmas. Javy and Nat attend as their best man/woman and witnesses

The four get stationed on the USS. George Washington where the “rivalry” between Jake and Bradley is established from their banter over comms and on the carrier. They spend 18 months there before they’re all split up. (‘11-‘12)

Over the next 8 years the four are moved around occasionally stationed with each other. Jake and Bradley have a house together in Cali (Bradley’s parents house) for any free time they have.

From ‘20 onward Jake is flying with the Vigilantes out of Lemoore and Bradley is on board the USS Theodore Roosevelt flying with the Golden Warriors.

‘22 TG:M (Bradley is 38, Jake is 35, Mav is 60)

I spent a long time on the logistics of years and math so if you see any mistakes no you didn’t <3

#bradley rooster bradshaw #hangster #icemav #jake hangman seresin #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction

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usafphantom2 · 6 months ago

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An F/A-18E Super Hornet assigned to the Stingers of Strike Fighter Squadron (VFA) 113 lands on the USS Theodore Roosevelt. (s. roberts)

@kadonkey via X

#f18superhornet #mcdonnell douglas aviation #fighter bomber #aircraft #navy #aviation #us navy #carrier aviation #aviation military #aviation military pics #military aircraft #military aviation

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judgemark45 · 8 months ago

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USS Carl Vinson (CVN 70) Multi-Large Deck Event with USS Theodore Roosevelt (CVN 71) and JS Ise (DDH 182)

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zvaigzdelasas · 9 months ago

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President Joe Biden is weighing more US defenses in the Middle East as the US prepares for an Iranian retaliation against Israel that officials say could include an attack on American forces.

In a phone call with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu Thursday, Biden said the US would “support Israel’s defense against threats,” which would include “new defensive US military deployments,” according to a readout of the call.[...]

The USS Theodore Roosevelt carrier strike group, which includes the aircraft carrier, destroyers and other warships, has been operating in the Gulf of Oman in recent weeks. The strike group could potentially move into the Gulf of Aden or the Red Sea, where Navy warships have intercepted dozens of Houthi launches over the past several months.

The USS Wasp amphibious assault ship and several other Navy vessels are currently operating in the Mediterranean Sea. The group includes a Marine expeditionary unit capable of carrying out an evacuation of American citizens from Lebanon if the US ordered such an evacuation.

Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) promised a “harsh” and “painful” response to the assassination. Israel has not commented on the killing.[...]

Israel Defense Forces spokesman Rear Adm. Daniel Hagari said that “international partners” have bolstered their forces in the region, though he did not specify which countries.

“We have very good defense systems,” he said of Israel’s own preparations for an attack, “and in addition we have international partners who have reinforced their forces [deployed] in the region, to help us counter the threats.”

A Defense Department spokesman said Thursday the Pentagon has no information to provide on the movement of US forces or changes to force condition at this time.[...]

A coalition of countries, including Jordan and other Arab states, came together in April to share intelligence and intercept the Iranian barrage. But officials say it’s unclear if such a coalition could be stood up again so quickly and whether all of the countries are willing to participate once again.

Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah hinted that a coordinated attack on Israel could be in the works after Israel assassinated one of its top commanders in Beirut less than 24 hours before the killing of Haniyeh.

“Because they have picked a fight with everyone, they don’t know where the response will come from … the response will come separately or coordinated,” he said in a speech Thursday.

1 Aug 24

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captain-price-unofficially · 25 days ago

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A US Marine from USS Theodore Roosevelt (CVN-71), practices VBSS aboard the replenishment oiler USNS Joshua T. Humphreys (T-AO-188), 1991.

#cold war #naval

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dangerousthingobservation · 5 months ago

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An F-14 Tomcat assigned to the "Black Lions" of Fighter Squadron Two One Three (VF-213) launches from the flight deck aboard the Nimitz-class aircraft carrier USS Theodore Roosevelt (CVN 71).

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nocternalrandomness · 2 years ago

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"Last Launch"

July 28, 2006 - Atlantic Ocean: An F-14D "Felix 112" assigned to VF-31 Tomcatters, aboard the USS Theodore Roosevelt completes the final catapult launch of an F-14. The last launch marked the end of an era for Naval Aviation as the Tomcat was officially retired in September 2006, after 32 years of service.

#USN #Aviation #Military #Aircraft #Grumman #F-14 #Tomcat #Catapult launch #Fighter #Jet #Airplane

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ltwilliammowett · 1 year ago

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Toss a coin for John Paul Jones

John Paul Jones has been lauded as the father of the US Navy since 1775. His influence and leadership were fundamental to the founding of our Navy and in many ways to the success of the American War of Independence.

The tomb of John Paul Jones in the U.S. Naval Academy Chapel's crypt, Annapolis, Maryland

The remains of John Paul Jones were interred in 1906 in a ceremony presided over by President Theodore Roosevelt in the crypt beneath the Naval Academy crypt. Since his death in 1792, John Paul Jones' remains had lain in a grave in France, where he also died.

The Tamanend Figurehead of the USS Delaware, 1817

Now, since 1906, it has been the custom of the Midshipmen of the Academy to deposit coins at his grave to ask and thank him for help in examinations and a successful graduation as well as a successful career. Another helper on campus is the statue of Tamanend, a peaceful Delaware chief of the Lenape Nation, to whom coins are also offered to request his help in examinations.

#naval history #sailors superstition #american midshipmen #midshipman monday #age of steam #early 20th century

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roosterforme · 1 year ago

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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: The collection of letters that Bradley received from the fourth grade class provides him with entertainment while deployed. He takes the time to answer their questions and send a package back to the United States via air mail. But he has your email address. He also has a bit of a crush and some questions himself.

Warnings: Fluff, language

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

A few days later, when Bradley was done with his training protocols for the day, he returned to his bunk with a different mission in mind. While he unzipped his flight suit, he eyed the box which was taking up most of his nightstand, and a smile found its way to his lips. He managed to find a notebook that nobody wanted along with a thick, padded envelope, and he was going to take the time to respond to the fourth graders who wrote to him.

He'd spent hours poring over the letters, laughing at some of the questions from the kids and frequently picking up that one photo. He couldn't stop going back for more. For another look at you. Just one more look. Okay, this really was the last one. He had to toss it across the small room toward his duffel so he could focus on something other than your smile and the fact that he might have a tiny crush on a fourth grade teacher who knew absolutely nothing about him. Yet.

The note from Jayden was on the top, and Bradley opened it up and started to jot down a response.

Jayden,

It was so nice to hear from you and the rest of your class. To answer your pertinent questions, I am currently stationed on the USS Theodore Roosevelt. The most disgusting food in the mess hall is easily the cabbage rolls (which taste nothing like cabbage... or rolls). The best food in the mess hall is surprisingly the meatloaf. And yes, I would love to see a photo of your Cocker Spaniel. Please send one next time. I hope you're studying and doing your best in school.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The next note he decided to tackle was the one from Violet who had the tiniest handwriting he'd ever seen. The page had at least fifteen questions written out, but he decided to answer just a few for her. He had to squint as he skimmed through them again.

Violet,

You seem very inquisitive. That's a great quality to have, especially if you want to be a pilot someday. No, I did not attend the Naval Academy. I went to the University of Virginia. Yes, the Navy is way better than the Air Force. Yes, I can hold my breath underwater for three minutes. Yes, they actually made me do it. No, I don't think I could make it as a Navy SEAL. Yes, I have been staying hydrated and getting enough sun, thanks so much for asking. Keep studying hard, because you have a lot of school ahead of you before officer training.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

Okay, so this was actually a lot of fun. Up next was a response to the note from Oliver, which made Bradley laugh every time he looked at it.

Oliver,

Thank you so much for drawing the different Naval aircrafts for me. I hate to break it to you, but I actually do not fly the F-35 Lightning II. Yes, I know they look 'sickeningly cool'. Yes, I know it would be like 'slam dunking off the back of a dragon'. I guess I never knew I was jealous of those pilots until right now.... But I fly the equally cool if not quite as sickening looking F/A-18 Super Hornet. And yes, I would be more than happy to draw my own version of one for you. See below.

Lt. Bradley Bradshaw

The ten minutes he spent replicating his own aircraft to the best of his ability for Oliver churned out a pretty damn good result. He fished his phone out of the nightstand and took a picture to email to Nat when he had time, because she would find this whole thing amusing. Then he reached for the letters from Harrison, Nia and Jackie. He wrote his responses, and after a bit, he had a decent sized stack of letters all ready to go back to the fourth graders.

After a few more days, he worked his way through the entire class, and each kid would soon have a handwritten response on the way. He just needed to figure out what he wanted to say to you. The pretty teacher from the class photo that he now kept tucked in with his personal items. He worked on that one last, writing your full name at the top of the page and wishing you didn't go by the very non-specific Ms. which gave him zero clue as to whether or not you were married.

The package you sent was the nicest piece of deployment mail I have ever received. Thank you. I'm lucky it ended up in my hands. I'm impressed by how much all of your students have learned about aviation this year. I just hope I did them justice in regards to the questions they had for me.

I also hope you don't mind that I replied to each kid individually. They had some very amusing stories and questions, and I wanted to acknowledge all of them. But there was one question in particular that I was asked so many times, I thought I'd answer it here instead. My call sign is kind of a silly one, so it's okay if you all laugh. I go by Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, and my helmet is mostly red, yellow and black.

Your kids seem like a fun bunch, but I bet they keep you on your toes. Feel free to let them know they can write back to me again, but please include my name on the package this time. I don't know that I'd be lucky enough to have it fall into my hands again by chance. I'll just be here somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean for a few more months, ready to answer any questions you throw at me. Hope to hear back from you soon.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The following day, he packed everything up and dropped it off with the rest of the ship's outgoing mail. There was a rumor that a helicopter would be coming to pick it up in the next day or two, and he wanted to make sure it got back to California and those fourth graders as soon as possible. On his way back to his bunk, Bradley stopped by the lounge to see if there was an iPad free, hoping to send a quick email or two. He was in luck. He also happened to have your email address memorized.

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

You yawned at your desk and checked the time on your computer. Within the next ten minutes, your classroom would go from silent solitude to mass chaos, so you took a minute to clear out your email inbox. You had a few messages from some parents and a reminder about Spirit Week from the superintendent. And a random piece of junk mail that must have slipped through the spam filters. You didn't know anyone with a US Navy email address, and you didn't know anyone named Bradley Bradshaw.

As you closed your laptop, you gasped and tried to pry it back open again as quickly as you could. The Navy! The package you sent a few weeks ago! Maybe it was someone writing back to your class! Of course it could just be someone saying they were sorry that they didn't have time to engage with your students, but you figured even that was better than nothing.

"Come on," you whispered, entering your credentials again before your inbox reappeared on your screen. The email was just a few lines long, but it was addressed to you by name. You were smiling immediately as you read it.

I just wanted to let you know that I got the mail you sent to a deployed Naval Aviator. There's a package on its way to your school for your class. It should arrive in about a week or two. Your fourth graders provided me with several hours of entertainment, and I hope they find my answers to their many (and amusing) questions useful. Thanks for the laughs, and thanks for the photos, too. Can't tell you how much I've been enjoying them. Hope to hear from all of you again.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

You squealed and pumped your fists in the air. Someone actually got the box! And he actually responded! The other, older teachers thought you were just wasting your time when you deviated from the lesson plans a bit. Literally all of them said there was no way anyone would write back, even though you took the time to go through the proper channels at Top Gun on North Island. But now you could rub it in their faces, all thanks to Bradley Bradshaw who sounded like he'd had as much fun with this whole thing as your class had.

Then your day really started as Violet and Oliver burst into your classroom, calling out your name with excitement in their voices. The rest of your kids followed behind them, already asking about the plans for the day and what kind of adventure you'd be taking them on in each subject.

When you clapped your hands twice and said, "Good morning," they all clapped and replied with their own greeting, and then they sat quietly with their gazes fixed on you. "Guess who I just got an email from!"

"The president!"

"My grandma!"

"My Cocker Spaniel!"

"Oliver's grandma!"

You just shook your head and tried not to laugh as you said, "None of the above. But do you remember when we wrote and packed up those letters for a real aviator in the military to read?" Most of the kids nodded, so you added, "Well, he emailed us! And he sent us some mail that should arrive in about a week!"

And telling them that was a mistake. Because you didn't know a moment of peace after that. Every morning, you had kids rushing into the room to see if the promised piece of mail arrived yet. Every day you had to disappoint them, but you were finding yourself a little disappointed, too. You wanted to know what this Bradley Bradshaw guy sent back.

You'd responded to his initial email letting him know you and the kids in your class were delighted to hear from him and that you would let him know when the mail he sent arrived at your school. He didn't respond, but you figured he was busy. Too busy to constantly muck about with your class while he was thousands of miles away on a deployment.

And that was what left you standing at your desk with your mouth hanging open in awe when the padded envelope did finally arrive one morning. Because when you carefully cut it open, you found not just one letter to the class but individual handwritten notes, one for each child.

"Wow," you whispered, pulling the note with your name written on the top out of the stack. This man seemed humble and sweet, and his letter made you laugh in more than one spot as you read through it. Then you read it again. He sounded apologetic about responding to each individual kid, but you felt like your insides were melting. Who would do that? Who would take the time to give individual attention to a bunch of nine and ten year olds besides you? And you were technically getting paid to do it.

Bradley Bradshaw seemed willing to continue to engage with your kids, and you weren't going to stop him. Because starting that morning, he became something of a legend to your class. A celebrity. A real lieutenant in the Navy replied to all of their silly questions, and their love of aviation just grew from there. You figured you were going to have to keep your lesson plans going a bit longer while their faces lit up as you walked around the room and handed them each their notes. You had taken the time to skim them beforehand, often laughing at his sense of humor which seemed to jump off the pages.

"Can we write back to him?" Jayden asked as everyone read their notes from Lieutenant Bradshaw. "I have more questions."

You smiled and nodded. "Yes, you may write back to him." Then you postponed your geology lesson until the next day and let them spend the next forty minutes writing some followup letters. You took some pictures of them diligently toiling away at their desks, excitement on their faces. Then you bit your lip and sat down at your own desk.

As you started to construct an email letting him know the envelope had arrived, your thoughts drifted to what he might be like. Humble and sweet, for sure. But he also made it a point to tell you that the box from your class was the best piece of mail he'd ever received while deployed. Maybe he was a little bit lonely. Maybe he was single. Maybe he was stationed on the west coast. Your thoughts started to get ahead of you, and it was hard to reel them in when you imagined him excited to see another email from you. Smiling when he was handed another box from your class during mail call.

Dear Lt Bradley Bradshaw,

We got the envelope from you today, and my kids are absolutely thrilled! I'm not sure if you know how hard it can be to wrangle eighteen fourth graders all at one time, but they are currently sitting quietly and working on new letters for you to read. Once again, please don't feel obligated to continue correspondence if you're too busy. I'm sure you have other people you could be writing to who want your attention as well. I just wanted you to know they are overjoyed that a Naval officer took the time to answer their questions about aviation.

I have attached some photos as proof that they are sitting still. Thanks again for making their day.

You signed your name at the bottom the way you always would from your work email account, and then you attached the photos. After a brief debate about adding the selfie you took with Violet where most of your face was visible, you decided to just go for it. Adding it to the mix wouldn't hurt anything. It wasn't like this semi mystery man would be up all night thinking about you.

But you found that you were still thinking about him when you went home to your silent house and made dinner that evening. Maybe he was a little bit lonely, but maybe you were, too.

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

It was amazing how infrequently Bradley found himself thinking about Vanessa. He was busier now with his duties picking up a bit more as his deployment wore on, but even when he was tired and in his bunk at night, his thoughts seldom settled on her like he was afraid they might. He didn't miss her or her half-hearted emails, and he wasn't craving the connection of reunion sex with her.

Instead, he was thinking about what a group of fourth graders were learning about this week and what their cute teacher was up to. It had been a few days since you emailed him, letting him know that his package was delivered to your school. You made it sound like the kids were excited that he sent it in the first place, and when he really thought about it, he supposed some officers would have just eaten the snacks and tossed the notes in the trash.

He didn't reply to the email yet, still thrown off a bit by the pictures you attached. Your classroom was vibrant, and the kids were absorbed as they worked on more notes for him to read whenever they happened to be delivered to the carrier. But the photo with you in it held his attention longer than it should have. The fact that you were working at a school that was just a handful of miles from his damn house made him feel warm.

But what would he do about it? What could he do about it? Nothing. He didn't want you to think he was creepy. He still knew essentially nothing else about you. The only thing he could do was keep it friendly if not professional. Unless of course you did something to push the boundaries of conversation into a more personal realm. God, if you did....he didn't think he would be able to handle it.

The next day, when he was heading out on deck to talk to the mechanics who were doing regular maintenance on the aircrafts, he took his phone. "Hey, you mind if I take a few photos of some of the engine parts? I want to send them to a class of fourth graders who will think it's cool."

"Go ahead, Lieutenant," the head mechanic replied. Then he smiled and asked, "You dating a teacher?"

Well. Wouldn't that be something? Bradley would never run out of curious pen pals. He would always have some fourth graders to take interesting photos for and to send notes to. He'd always have a classroom to visit as soon as he got home from a deployment.

He couldn't help but picture you as the teacher.

"Nothing like that," he replied, his voice a little gravelly. "Just writing to some kids who are learning about aviation."

After dinner, when he had a chance to use an iPad in the lounge, he did his best to put together a response to your email that would at least hint at the curiosity he felt.

If all it takes is mail from three thousand miles away to get your class to sit quietly, then I should probably be writing to you every day. But I'm sure you're a great teacher. That's a given considering how much your students learned and shared with me. And I can assure you that I'm more than happy to take the time to write to your class. And you. Please don't think I feel obligated, because I do not. I want to.

I have attached a few pictures of some F/A-18 engine components as well as some of my cockpit controls. Each photo is labeled, but please let me know if you have any questions.

It was nice hearing from you.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

As soon as he hit send, he wanted to kick himself. Should he have included a photo of his face like you had twice now? Or did he already sound too desperate to hear from you and your class again?

"Shit," he muttered, looking around the lounge as if there was going to be someone here proficient in the art of getting to know a fourth grade teacher without sounding stupid. But it was too late now. All he could do was wait for the next mail call or hope you decided to write back to his ramblings by the next time he checked his email.

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

You were going to have to scrape your jaw off the floor. You had no idea what this man's face even looked like, but his hands were... something else. And his thighs... well, they were pretty great, too. It must have been too long since you got laid, because you were sitting at your desk in your classroom staring at the set of photos in your inbox, currently unable to look away from his right hand. It was wrapped around the throttle of his aircraft. It was elegant with attractive veins and rough calluses. You were sure that you were supposed to be focusing on the cockpit controls, but all you could see was that hand and his thick, muscular thighs below.

The next photo was no better for you. He was holding up his helmet with his call sign Rooster emblazoned across the front, and you were able to see his left ring finger. There was no wedding band. There was no evidence of an outline where a wedding band would belong. There was just his big, strong hand.

You whimpered softly while your students worked on their math tests. You couldn't help it as you took one last look before logging out of your email account. And now you needed to know if his face matched the very attractive image you had in your mind.

When Jayden called your name, you rocketed to your feet like you'd been caught red handed. "Yes?" you squeaked, your voice sounding higher pitched than usual.

"I'm done with my test. May I have the hall pass and use the restroom?"

You handed it to him as the rest of your class finished working through the math problems. A few minutes later, when you collected the papers from them, Violet asked, "When is Lieutenant Bradshaw going to write back to us?"

It had only been a few days since you mailed him the second box of notes and some more snacks, but it made you happy that they were all so invested in learning more from him.

"It will probably be a few weeks before we get anything in the mail. However... he did email me some pictures of engine and cockpit parts from the aircraft carrier for me to share with you guys." When you looked around the room, the kids were on the edges of their seats, excited expressions on their faces. With a laugh you added, "I was going to wait until tomorrow and use the projector to show them all to you, but if you're very well behaved for the rest of the afternoon, maybe I could pull them up on my computer for you to see them today."

Not two hours later, you were just as excited as the kids were to look at the photos... again. As they crowded around your desk, you opened up the first one of the cockpit to a barrage of questions.

"Is that really his jet?"

"Is that the throttle?"

"What do all the buttons do?"

"Was this right before he flew it?"

Once again you were distracted, but you managed to click over to the next photo, and the kids gasped in delight.

"His helmet is so cool!"

"It says Rooster!"

"That's his call sign!"

"Red is my favorite color!"

You just smiled softly and laughed. "Should we go ahead and start working on another list of questions for him?" you asked as you slowly scrolled through the rest of the pictures. "He said we can write back to him as much as we want to." When everyone cheered, you handed Oliver a marker and pointed to the board at the front of the classroom. "Let's start making a list."

You listened to all of your students call out questions for Bradley while Oliver wrote them down. Then Violet asked, "Can he send us a picture of his whole jet? From the outside of it?"

You cleared your throat and added, "Maybe he could get someone else to take the picture so he could stand in front of it. For size comparison."

Violet nodded, but you knew you were a fraud. Sure, it would be great for the kids to understand just how massive the F/A-18s were compared to an actual person, but you were the one who wanted to see all of Bradley. You were itching for it now.

Later that night, you drank most of a bottle of wine and did something you promised yourself you'd never do. You logged into your work email account after nine o'clock. You skipped over the handful of unread emails from parents and clicked on the icon to compose a new message. With your liquid courage goading you on, you typed up a response to Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw and hit send before you could think twice.

Thank you for the photos. They were very enlightening. We especially liked the ones where you were showing off your cockpit. Or I did, anyway. The kids liked all of them and started on another list of questions for you. Good luck getting rid of us now.

We were wondering if you could have someone take a picture of you standing in front of your jet. For size comparison purposes. And also because my students would like to know what you look like. Hearing from you makes our day even better.

You couldn't believe how forward you were being with this man who you'd never even met in person, but you fell asleep thinking about his hands and what they might be capable of.

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

This Bradley makes me swoon. I've never wanted to be a fourth grade teacher so badly in my life. There is something that's starting to blossom between them even though they haven't even met in person. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

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