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callsign-dexter · 1 month ago

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Knight in a Hawaiian Shirt 18+

Request: Ok, I saw Top Gun Maverick again what feels like the 100th time, and I still love it so much ! It gets me goosebumps during so many scenes !

So I was wondering if you'd consider a Bradley Bradshaw imagine where he lays his eyes on a girl at the Hard Deck, who currently has a nasty conversation with a weird guy and Bradley notices how uncomfortable she feels, so as the gentlemen he is, he saves the girl, acting like her boyfriend and she's more than happy about that. After that they meet up regularly and she even stays over at his apartment from time to time (just cuddling) and one night as he holds her close, whispers in her ear that he loves her and thinks he's asleep, but you hear him, kiss him and if you like some smut, but if not, then just even more cuddles 😊

Pairings: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut

Masterlist

A/N: @gunsandguardians and @imagine-all-the-fandoms prepare yourselves for some Bradley Bradshaw smut!

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw was having a day, no scratch that, Bradley was having a rough week. His jet had several malfunctions, he had meetings non-stop, Beau ‘Cyclone’ Simpson was breathing down his neck to get certain numbers and data, and to top it all off he and the rest of The Daggers took on a teaching position and the new Top Gun cadets were putting them through the ringer. He had to teach a multitude of young versions of Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell and Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin. Also, all the females in the class were flirting with him and it was making his jaw tick and teeth clench. It was Friday which meant that it was time to let the load off and relax. Everyone had decided to go to The Hard Deck and he agreed very quickly and now he was leaning against the wall on his fourth beer of the night and he could practically feel the tension melt away. He had showered at the base getting rid of the smell of jet fuel and had changed into his typical Hawaiian shirt, white undershirt, jeans, and shoes. “What a day.” Jake said coming up to him, usually he was cocky and could match the energy but even he was admitting it was a tough day. After the mission the tension seemed to die down between them and they actually became friends.

“Day? What a week.” Bradley said, taking a drink and Jake nodded.

“You got that right.” Jake said

“Bagman get over here so I can beat your ass at pool.” The voice of none other than Natasha 'Phoenix’ Trace said.

“You’re going down.” Jake said and started to walk over to her after patting Bradley on the shoulder. As the atmosphere around him grew into the usual Friday night crowd. He was tending to blend in with the crowd not looking to hook with anyone but that doesn’t mean he could still look around.

“Hey.” Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd said to him and he was turning to look at him.

“You just got in here?” Bradley asked and Bob nodded.

“Yea, I needed to talk to Maverick and Cyclone about taking maternity leave.” Bob said he was married to his high school sweetheart and they were expecting a little boy. Finding out he was married shocked everyone.

“How is Marie and the baby doing?” Bradley asked

“She’s doing well. Ready to be done with the pregnancy especially since it has been so hot. Baby is healthy and stirring up trouble. I won’t be staying long.” Bob said

“Good. Yea I might not be staying long either. It’s been a tough week.” Bradley said and Bob nodded. Bob was then being pulled away by Phoenix which once again left Bradley alone. Throughout the night everyone had come up and talked to him and he mingled around. Currently everyone was crowded around the pool table and dart board. As they talked and mingled with each other and other patrons in the bar. At some point Natasha came over and started talking to him about a show that they were both watching. As he listened and gave input a distressed female voice, yours, and a very drunk voice came to his ears and he looked over in that direction.

When he looked over, he was quickly breath taken at how beautiful you were. He wondered if his father, Nick ‘Goose’ Bradshaw, felt about his mother, Carole Bradshaw. As he was admiring you the more of the conversation he heard and the more he concentrated on your body language and face. He could see how uncomfortable he was. Being the gentleman, he was raised to be he wasn't going to stand for a female to be harassed and was surprised he hadn't had the bell rang or thrown out but after seeing the crowd in the bar he understood it would be hard to keep up. “Are you even listening?” She asked, snapping her fingers in front of his face and he turned to look at her.

“No sorry.” He said and she looked to where he was looking at.

“She's cute but I don't like how close that man is. She's very uncomfortable.” Natasha said and he nodded.

“I'm going to go do something about it.” He said and she smiled.

“Go be her knight in a Hawaiian shirt.” She said, pushing him.

“I plan on it. I'll talk to you later.” He said and she nodded and he began his walk over to you. As he got closer the better, he could hear and it made his blood boil.

“How about me and you go back to my place and we can have some fun.” The man smirked.

“I'm not interested. Leave me alone, please.” You asked, trying to look for an escape.

“Oh, come on. I'm a lot of fun I promise. I can leave you satisfied.” He said

“I told you I'm not interested. I need to get back to my friends.” You said

“I think they'll understand.” He said as he touched your arm and you flinched and was about to say something when Bradley beat you to it.

“They you are, Babe. I've been looking everywhere for you.” Bradley said and both you and the man looked up at him as he slung and arm around your shoulders.

To be honest you didn't want to come out tonight but it was your best friend’s, Shiloh, birthday and he wanted to go bar hopping. He begged you and after so long you finally agreed so you, him, his fiancé, Blake, and 3 other friends, Makayla, Rebecca, and Ruby, went on a bar hopping spree. As the night grew and you had been to several bars you actually started to ease into it and have fun. After visiting 3 other bars, you had barely drunk anything, so he decided to go to a cute little bar on the beach. He had about it and talked highly of it and what really sold you was the fact that it was a Navy bar, something about men in uniform did something to you. You had just arrived and had made your way over to a table and looked around. “This is cute.” Shiloh said, looking around.

“It is! Oh look, men in uniform!” Rebecca said practically squealing.

“Would you keep it down? You'll get their attention.” Makayla said blushing but she couldn't deny that they were all good looking. You scanned the group but one caught your eye. He had a mustache and was in a Hawaiian shirt instead of the Khaki uniform. As you stared and daydreamed Blake spoke up.

“I'm getting drinks. Everyone want something?” Blake asked

“Yes!” The group said and you nodded. Everyone told him what they wanted and he was off. It wasn't a few minutes later and he was coming back with drinks in hand. As the night went on you engaged with the group topic at hand and your attention forgot all about the man in a Hawaiian shirt.

The 6 of you stayed longer at this bar, which you learned was named The Hard Deck, then any of the others but you weren't complaining. As the night went on you needed to use the bathroom so you nudged the closest person to you which happened to be Blake. “Hey I'm going to the bathroom; I'll be right back.” You said and he smiled and nodded.

“We'll be here.” He said and you chuckled and then left. You squeezed your way through and to the bathroom. You got in and to a stall and quickly did your business. Once you were done you walked out and washed your hands and headed out. You didn't get far from the bathroom before some sleazy drunk man was trapping you.

“Hey beautiful lady.” He said and the stench of alcohol hit your nose and made it scrunch up.

“Please leave me alone.” You said trying to push past him.

“Oh, come on. I just want to get to know you better.” He said now smiling and it made your stomach flip.

“Please leave me alone. I need to get back to my friends.” You said and then his hand came to touch your arm and you tensed up.

“How about me and you go back to my place and we can have some fun.” The man smirked.

“I'm not interested. Leave me alone, please.” You asked, trying to look for an escape.

“Oh, come on. I'm a lot of fun I promise. I can leave you satisfied.” He said

“I told you I'm not interested. I need to get back to my friends.” You said

“I think they'll understand.” He said as he touched your arm and you flinched but he wasn't paying attention to it.

“They you are, Babe. I've been looking everywhere for you.” A male voice said and both you and the man looked up at him as he slung and arm around your shoulders. He leaned down to your ear “Just go along with it.” He said and kissed your temple.

“Who the fuck are you?” The drunk man, you didn't even know his name, said.

“I'm her boyfriend. I've been looking for her everywhere. I got out of work late and was late getting here.” He said the tension you had melted away.

“I'm sorry I didn't wait for you. I wanted to get here and get a good table.” You said

“It's ok, Babe.” He said and then turned towards the man who looked pissed. “I think it's time for you to leave. Leave before I have Penny ring the bell and you have to pay for everyone's round.” He said.

“Fucking bitch.” The drunk man said.

“Penny!” The mustache man said and Penny looked over “Ring the bell. We have someone being disrespectful to a woman.” He said and she smiled and nodded. The sound of the bell rang and cheers erupted throughout the bar. The drunk man grumbled and walked off.

“Thank you so much.” You said looking up at him while moving to be in front of him and he looked down at you and smiled.

“It was my pleasure. I'm Bradley.” He said

“I'm Y/N. I'm here with friends that decided to go bar hopping for another's birthday.” You said and Bradley smiled.

“Your group picked a good place to stop. The Hard Deck is a very nice place to be.” Bradley said and you nodded.

“I can agree with that. We've stayed here the longest out of all of them. I can't thank you enough for saving me from that man.” You said

“I couldn't let a beautiful girl like you be harassed. My mom would beat my ass if I did.” He said and you chuckled.

“Your Mom sounds like a smart woman.” You said

“She was. I lost her when I was 18.” He said

“Oh gosh. I'm so sorry.” You said and he smiled.

“I want to take you out on a date.” He said and you smiled.

“I would like that.” You said pulling out your phone and handing it to him and he was quick to grab his. You put your number in his phone and he put his in yours.

“Pick you up at 7 tomorrow night?” He asked and you smiled up at him.

“That'll be perfect. I really need to get back to my friends.” You said and he smiled and nodded.

“Can I walk you over to them? Just so nobody tries anything unwanted.” He asked and you smiled and he was already winning you over.

“I would really like that.” You said

“Lead the way.” He said and so you did.

“There you are! We were worried but then I saw you with this hunk of a man,” Shiloh said visibly checking him out but so was Blake “I knew you were good.” He said and you laughed.

“This here is Bradley and he saved me from a drunk man and got Penny to ring the bell on him.” You said

“Well, it's nice to meet the man that saved our girl.” Blake said and you blushed and then introduced everyone to him.

“Nice to meet you all.” He said

“Yo Bradshaw!” Another male voice yelled and everyone looked over.

“Now I have to go. I'll pick you up at 7 tomorrow night.” Bradley said the last part was directed at you.

“I'll text you the address.” You said

“Sounds perfect.” He said and then he was leaving as he was back with his group. You turned to yours and everyone was smiling.

“Oh, shut up.” You said and everyone laughed. The rest of the night consisted of you and Bradley sneaking glances at each other and blushing while looking down and smiling, Bradley would throw winks at you occasionally. You couldn't wait until tomorrow night.

The next day you were anxious about your date with Bradley that night. When you had gotten home the night before you sent him a quick text thanking him for saving you and your address. As the day grew on leading up to the night you were trying to figure out what to wear and sending text messages to everyone.

3 hrs before the date there was a knock on the door and you were quick to go and open it. Behind the door was Blake and Shiloh. “We've come to help.” Blake said.

“I really don't need help.” You said but they looked you up and down and Shiloh pulled a face.

“Oh, Sweetie, you need us.” He said

“Is what I'm wearing that bad?” You asked

“It's not great.” He said as he led you to your closest and sat you down as he started to go through your closet with the occasional ‘no’ ‘definitely not’ ‘why do you still have this?’ you just sat back and smirked and chuckled at your best friend’s tactics. You loved him dearly and trusted him full heartedly.

“You helped me pick some of this out. Just remember that.” You said and he stopped and looked at you.

“Yes, I remember. Everything is great but not for a first date with a hunk of a handsome man.” He said and you looked over at Blake.

“Do you hear your fiancée?” You asked

“I do and I agree.” He said and your mouth dropped open and you let a little scoff but it was a playful one.

“Oh, this is perfect!” Shiloh finally said and pulled out a cute shirt that complimented your eyes. He held it up to you and nodded in approval “Yup this is the one.” He said and then handed it to you and then he went to your chest of drawers and started to root around them until he found a nice pair of jeans and then grabbed some comfortable shoes.

“What would I do without you?” You asked

“Be unfashionable.” He said and you chuckled. You got dressed in your bathroom and then came out and they were both giving their approval. By the time you were done it was 7 and there was a knock on the door. Before you could even get out of the bedroom Blake was rushing to get the door. You could hear them laugh and talk and then you were walking out.

“You look beautiful.” He said

“Thank you. You look handsome.” You said and he smiled.

“Thank you.” He said

“Alright you two. Don't stay out too late and don't get into trouble. Call if you need anything.” Shiloh said as he was ushering the two of you out and closing the door behind you both.

“Sorry about them. I wasn't planning on them being there.” You said as you both walked to his Bronco.

“Nonsense. It's nice to have friends like them two.” He said

“Yea they're pretty great. So, where are we headed?” You asked

“I hope you like Thai food. There is a place that has really good curry and pad thai.” He said

“Thai food is one of my favorites.” You said as he drove to the restaurant. The car ride was filled with small talk and getting to know each other. When you arrived, he parked and was quick to get out to open your door. “Thank you.” You said.

“Anything for a beautiful woman like you.” He said and you blushed like mad. You both walked in and he gave them his name and you both were quickly being led to a table outside.

“I love the smell of the ocean and the sea breeze.” You said and he smiled.

“I love it too.” He said

“It seems we have a lot in common.” You said and he chuckled and nodded.

“It seems like it.” He said the date went smoothly. You both ordered the same thing and the same drink. You both laughed and shared stories until the restaurant started to close and both of you were forced to leave. “Want to walk the beach?” He asked as the sunset and casted a golden glow over everything and made him look much more attractive.

“I would love to.” You said and so the two of you set out walking the beach. Your pinkies touched each other and danced until your hands were coming to hold each other's. Both of you ended up sitting on the beach watching the waves crash into the beach and the moonlight lit everything up. It was a little chilly and he could tell so he brought you into his side. You laid your head on his shoulder testing the waters and when he brought you closer and didn't push you off you knew it was going to be great. It was getting late and you started to yawn.

“Are you ready to go back?” He asked

“Not really but it's getting late.” You said and he smiled.

“I would love to continue this on another date.” He said and you smiled looking up at him as he looked down at you.

“I would love that.” You said and he was kissing the top of your head. You both got up and headed to his Bronco. He held your head on the way there and held it when he was driving you home. When you arrived at home, he walked you to your door and waited until you were inside before he left. It was dark when you got in which meant that Shiloh and Blake were gone. You smiled to yourself as you changed into something comfy. When you sat on your couch your phone dinged.

Bradley Bradshaw: Had a great time tonight. Can't wait to do it again.

You smiled and giggled and started to text back.

I had a great time too. How about next Saturday?

You didn't have to wait long before he responded.

Bradley Bradshaw: That sounds perfect.

How about a picnic on the beach at sundown maybe in the back of your Bronco?

Bradley Bradshaw: I would love that. Consider it a date.

You giggled and kicked your feet. You couldn't wait until next Saturday. You texted your friends letting them know you were home and that you had a second date and they all texted back in the group chat almost immediately. You answered and when everything seemed to calm down you put your phone next to you and turned on the TV already thinking about what to make.

Saturday rolled around and you were less nervous about this date then the one before and you had to admit to yourself that you were actually starting to fall in love with the mustached Naval Aviator. He has been the perfect gentleman to you and he considers your feelings when it comes to things. Throughout the week you two have been texting nonstop and some late-night phone calls were thrown in there as well and each time he had you blushing like mad and feeling things that no other man has made you feel. Throughout the week you were thinking of what you should bring on this picnic in the back of his prized Bronco. As the two of you talked and what seemed like 100 questions were asked you had some idea what to pack and a lot of it was your favorite foods.

As the days rolled on and it was getting closer to Saturday you were beginning to feel nervous and maybe second guessing everything but as you talked with him more and more all of those feelings went away. When Saturday rolled around and he was knocking on your door and you answered it the nerves seemed to have gone away fully especially when you saw him standing there with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and your favorite chocolates that you had gone on about and how hard they both were to find. “Hi.” You said breathlessly and he smiled.

“Hi.” He replied back. “These are for you. I know you said they were both hard to find but when you have the right people and they owe you favors you can get them easily.” He rambled on and you just continued to smile and you leaned up and kissed him to get him to stop, sparks flew and you hoped they flew for him too.

“Thank you so much.” You said when you broke away. Then you realized that it was your first actual kiss that you both shared and he had this stunned look of love on his face and in his eyes.

“You’re very welcome.” He said breathlessly.

“Let me put these up and the flowers in a vase and grab the basket then we can go.” You said and then turned around and walked into the kitchen and he followed and shut the door behind him. You both agreed that you would be the one to make the picnic basket since you knew more about food and how to cook. He did say he could cook but had no clue on what to include so you said that you would handle and boy was he glad you did. He watched you move effortlessly through the kitchen and grab a vase, fill it with water and then cut the flower’s stems and put them in. When you were done you turned to him “Alright, I’m ready to go. Do you care to grab the basket?” You asked and he smiled.

“I would love to do anything for you.” He said and you blushed and he smiled as he grabbed the basket and the both of you headed out of your house making sure to lock it and to his Bronco. He carefully put the basket in the back and opened the door for you and then got into the driver’s side and headed off to the secluded spot on the beach that he loved to go to when he needed to get away.

“So where are we going?” You asked

“It's a secluded area of the beach that I go to when I need to get away. It’s so peaceful and the sunset is breathtaking.” He said and you smiled already knowing that you’re going to love it. As he drove, music played softly and you both were getting to know each other more. 10 minutes later he was pulling into the spot and then he turned around and backed the Bronco up so you both could sit on the tailgate or in the back like you both planned on it. He helped you up into the back and you got comfortable and then he was falling right behind you. You opened the basket and the both of you got what you wanted out and the date started, well it started when he picked you up but it really started when the sun began to set. You snuggled into him and he embraced it. The date went smoothly and you both were having a great time. The waves crashing against the rocks, the warm sea breeze that was slightly misting, and the music he had softly in the background was making it perfect. You could get used to this.

“This is perfect.” You said and he smiled.

“You’re perfect.” He said looking down at you and looked up at him. The sunset was casting a beautiful glow across his skin and it made him that more irresistible. You don’t know how long you stared at each other but you both were slowly leaning into each other until your lips were touching and once again sparks flew. You two only broke apart when air was needed and then you were turning to look out at the sun setting behind the ocean. The date lasted until the food and drinks ran out and the sun fully set. A lot of laughter filled the night and a lot of talking did as well. All too soon you both were cleaning up and getting back in the front and then he was driving you home.

“I had an amazing night tonight.” You said as he pulled into your driveway and he parked. He turned to you and smiled.

“I had an amazing night too. Hopefully we can continue this.” Bradley said and you smiled and nodded.

“I would love that.” You said and you both were getting out of the Bronco and he grabbed the basket and headed to the house. When you got there you unlocked the front door and turned to him and he leaned down and kissed you and of course you kissed back. His mustache tickled you but it wasn’t uncomfortable when you broke apart. “Good night, Bradley.” You said and he smiled as you took the basket from him.

“Good night, Y/N.” He said and you smiled and turned to open the door and walked in and closed it. He waited until you were in and the door was locked before walking to his Bronco. He got in as his phone dinged.

Had a great time tonight. Can’t wait to do it again.

Bradley Bradshaw: Name the place and time.

Yup he was truly a keeper. You couldn’t wait for more dates and adventures with him.

1 month later (4 weeks)

You and Bradley had been dating for a month now and that time had been amazing and he was amazing. You and he had been non-stop talking and you both had been on multiple dates. You both had spent nights with each other but it only consisted of cuddles. Tonight, you both were at his place for date night, he brought up in a simple text one Friday afternoon. He offered to cook you your favorite meal which happened to be steak fettuccine alfredo with garlic bread, it turned out to be his favorite since childhood. You had agreed for you to be over at his place at 6 PM right as soon as you got off from work for the weekend.

6 PM on the dot and you were knocking on the door of his apartment and he was opening the door and the smell of food hit you and your stomach growled. “Someone sounds hungry.” He joked and you grinned bashfully.

“Starving. I didn’t get time to eat lunch today.” You admitted

“Baby, you can’t be doing that yourself.” He said as he started to usher you in and taking your jacket off and taking your purse and putting them away.

“I didn’t mean to, it just happened. We just got really busy.” You said as he made you sit down on a chair that he pulled out for you.

“Well, it is a good thing that food is ready.” He said as he plated up a plate for you and put garlic bread on the side for you. He brought it over to you and set it down in front of you and then went to the fridge and got your favorite wine cooler and opened it for you and set it down in front of you. The smell of the food hit your nose and your stomach growled once again.

“This smells delicious.” You said as he sat down with his food and choice of drink.

“Eat up. Can’t let my Baby starve to death.” He said and your stomach filled with butterflies as you took your first fork full of the delicious food. He watched you as you took a bite and your eyes closed. You practically moaned at the taste and smiled and took a bite. “How is it?” He asked after he swallowed.

“Delicious.” You said and as you opened your eyes to look at him “You can cook this anytime.” You said and he smiled.

“I plan on it. It’s actually my mom’s recipe and she said it was one of my dad’s favorites.” He said and you smiled at him. You and he had talked about Carole and Goose and from the stories you could tell that they loved each other and they were good people. You had lost your parents at an early age and were raised by your uncle. As the both of you ate supper you both talked about anything that came to your mind and after several plates and your stomachs were full you both moved to the couch leaving the dishes for later. Dessert would be had later both of you being too full of the delicious meal he had cooked up. Work had worn you out that you were close to falling asleep, he had put on the show you both were currently watching together. He had turned you both to where you both were laying down on the couch. “Stay the night?” He asked and you turned to look up at him.

“You want me to?” You answered his question with a question.

“Only if you want to.” He said

“I would love to.” You said he smiled and kissed you and you kissed back and then you turned to continue watching the show. It was harder and harder to keep your eyes open and you closed them. Bradley felt your body relax further and he cuddled you more.

“I love you.” He whispered in your ear thinking that you were asleep but you weren’t. You turned in his arms and leaned up and kissed him and he kissed you back. Once air was needed you broke apart and looked at each other.

“I love you too.” You said smiling and he smiled back. This was the first time you both said that you loved each other. You both just stared at each other and then you both were leaning in and kissing each other feverishly. You both sat up and then he picked you up and headed off to the bedroom he gently laid you down and climbed on top of you gently. He kissed you and then he started to your jaw and started to nip you gently and it brought an ache between your legs that needed attention. He kissed and nipped his way down to your neck where you turned your head to give him better access, his mustache tickled you but it wasn’t uncomfortable it just added fuel to the fire. You let out a low moan that you couldn't help and you felt him smirk on your heated skin that was just getting hotter by the second. Bradley came up and you turned your head and looked at him. His eyes held something in them almost like asking if he could continue and you nodded. He slowly took off your shirt and you helped him and now you were in your bra and pants.

“Tell me if you want to stop.” He said

“Keep going.” You said and he nodded and continued. He slowly undressed you until you were fully naked in front of him.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said and you blushed as he ran his hands up and down your sides. You made a move to the bottom of his t-shirt and he got the hint and took it off and added it to the pile of your clothes. You couldn’t help but stare and look him up and down, the Navy sure did him good. “You like what you see?” He asked.

“I do but I want to see what you have under those pants.” You said somehow finding the boldness and you could tell he loved that because he started to shed his pants and then his underwear. His cock sprang up and slapped his rock-hard abs. You only became wetter looking at him, he had the full package and you couldn’t believe it was all yours. “Fuck I definitely like what I see.” You said and smirked and then he smirked.

“I like what I see too.” He said looking you up and down. He then suddenly attacked your lips and licked your bottom lip and you parted your lips and your tongues fought for dominance he caressed your body. He brought one hand to the one place you needed him; he ran his hand through your folds and you moaned into his mouth he kept going until he pushed two thick digits into you and a wonderful stretch was welcomed. Bradley fingered fucked you as you both French kissed each other. He was getting you close to coming and he could tell and then he was pulling out of you and he broke the kiss. You were about to say something but he slid into you in one swift motion.

“Fuck that feels good.” You moaned as he fully bottomed out of you. You were no virgin but it had been awhile since you had sex and each time you were never left satisfied but Bradley was satisfying you and it was only the beginning.

“Talk about feeling good? You’re gripping me like you were made for me.” He moaned and you looked up into his honey brown eyes that his pupils had pretty much taken over. “You ok if I start moving?” He asked.

“Fuck yes.” You said and smirked and started to thrust his hips into yours and it brought you to seeing stars. “Fuck, Baby. You’re so big. You’re perfect.” You moaned as your hands went to his shoulder blades and gripped, fingernails leaving indents in his skin. He continued to thrust in and out of you making you feel good and in turn you squeezed him and made him moan.

“Keep doing that and I won’t last long.” He said

“Fucking shit. You’re hitting all the right spots.” You moaned “Go faster.” You said but it sounded more like a demand and he was willing to fill that demand. He started to thrust faster and you started to get closer to that orgasm that was rapidly building. Moans and pants from both of you were filling the room and sweat started to break out on both of your bodies.

“Fuck, I’m close.” He moaned and that dam was about to break.

“Me too.” You moaned and then he was attacking your lips again and then was kissing and nipping at your jaw again. His mustache scratching you just added to the pleasure and you loved it. You could feel him start to get sloppy and knew he was getting closer.

“Cum with me.” He said almost demanded as his hand came down to your clit and started to give it attention and in turn it was bringing you closer. It wasn’t long after he nipped your neck and tugged on your clit you were squeezing him and coming on his cock and then he was stilling inside of you and painting your walls white. You both started to come down from your high as he pulled out of you and fell to the side of you. Both of you were sweaty and panting but you both didn’t care as you laid beside each other fucked out in bliss.

“I love you.” You said and looked over at him and he looked over at you.

“I love you too.” He said and you smiled and kissed him and he kissed you back. He turned down the covers and the two of you crawled under them. He brought you into his chest and cuddled you. You yawned and he chuckled. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here in the morning.” He said and you nodded and slowly closed your eyes and snuggled your head into his chest and fell asleep and once he saw your breath even out and he knew you were truly asleep he allowed himself to fall asleep.

You knew you had found the one and you had to thank a drunk asshole for that. If he hadn’t tried so hard to get you to go home with him then you wouldn’t have met your amazing boyfriend that had faked being your boyfriend at the beginning. You both loved each other and that is all that mattered.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@grandstrangerphantom

@angenu01-blog

@gunsandguardians

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roosterforme · 11 months ago

Text

The Younger Kind Part 44 | Rooster x Reader

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

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

Length: 4000 words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh! Are you talking about the Yorkie?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Nope."

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

"Nope."

"The solar system?"

"Nope."

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

"Yes!"

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

"Yes! She's his best friend!"

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

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

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

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

"Mommy, why did you stop singing?"

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

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

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

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

"I had a nice conversation with Cyclone today."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're joking," he deadpanned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you want some?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PART 45

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allbark-no-bite · 3 months ago

Text

call it brotherhood (not love).

jake seresin x reader (wc: 6.2k)

summary: jake meets his match in a soldier rather than a sailor. you’re a bit more war torn than he expected, but it’s okay because maybe he is too

warnings: 18+ smut, * graphic descriptions of injuries and death ⚠️

* if you are uncomfortable with this, please don’t read

author’s note: spoiler alert, i know this isn’t the Jake fic that you’ve all been wanting but i swear that one is in the works. i’m about to go back to school and wanted to get this out there for y’all :) (ps i apologize for the lazy ending)

————————————————————————

"At ease, gentlemen —And woman," Admiral Simpson adds after a moment, shooting an uncharacteristically apprehensive look in Phoenix's direction. Payback snorts at his hasty correction, and Jake is surprised when the admiral doesn't fix him with a nasty look.

If the man's cursory show of inclusion perturbs the female pilot, she doesn't show it, and instead she takes a seat with all the rest of them. Jake turns back towards the front of the ready room, sinking down into his chair just a bit, toothpick clenched between his teeth as he waits for the admiral to address them.

However routine, this training meeting was a bit out of left field, especially for a Sunday afternoon. The Dagger squad typically had one weekly, but it was usually led by Maverick and much more informal. That wasn't to say that seeing Beau was surprising, but the man usually steered clear of the wayward captain and left him to his own devices when it came to training the Daggers.

Today the captain sits in the ready room beside the rest of the pilots. Jake watches as Bradley sends his godfather an inquisitive brow from across the room, to which the older man just shrugs. Interesting.

Cyclone clears his throat. "Good afternoon. I apologize for keeping you all, but I promise this will only take a minute of your time. As I'm sure you are all aware, the United States Department of Defense takes immense pride in maintaining one of the most well integrated military forces in the world. It's our job to work closely with other service members to ensure their safety and the safety of our nation." He pauses. "As experienced as you all are, your time here at Topgun has not reflected that."

Jake's brow furrows, his tongue worrying at the toothpick clenched between his teeth as he listens to the admiral go on. Javy shoots him a look but Jake stares ahead, waiting for Beau to continue.

"The permanent installment of your squad here at Miramar was to create a tightly knit group of elite fighter pilots who would be available at a moment's notice, and however successful that may have been, I cannot neglect the fact that comfort builds complacency. Later today, a squad of U.S. Army soldiers will be arriving to aide in your training for the next six weeks. The integration of mixed branch training units has been widely effective around the country, and it's about time we do the same here at Miramar."

With that, the screen positioned on the wall behind him lights up, displaying enlarged headshots of about eight soldiers. The first seven are males of varying ages, but none older than probably thirty. Jake quickly skims over their names and credentials, but when he gets to the last profile, his eyes stop.

The last solider is the only female projected on the screen, but even so she stands out as compared to all the other members of her squad. He can't quite put his finger on why though.

She's uncharacteristically pretty. And by that he means that to most, her appearance would be inherently off putting— even without the straight-mouthed scowl on her face. She's got a square, almost masculine like jawline that hardens her features considerably. Her hair is light, worn from spending too much time in the sun regardless of however dark it may have been naturally. The same goes for her skin, which is comparably bronze in contrast to the tan line on her forehead, he would assume from wearing a patrol cap out in the field.

Her eyes are wild.

And that's when it hits him.

She'd been all over the news just a few months ago. Something about a patrol gone wrong out in the Middle East, which ultimately turned into a high stakes rescue mission to extract the surviving soldiers. They went in hoping to bring back nine men and came out with one. Apparently they didn't even get to recover the bodies.

Jake can't imagine what that'll do to a person.

Before he can stare at her profile any longer, Cyclone quickly clicks off the projection and the image disappears. This time he appears almost nervous as he stares back at them. "These soldiers are recently returning from a deployment in the Middle East, so I trust that you all will do your best to make them feel welcome. If none of you have any questions, that is all. You're dismissed."

---

The following morning, the Jake receives word from Maverick that the Admiral wants to see him in his office. It's not a strange request but certainly raises Jake's attention as to why specifically he was needed.

Upon entering the room, Jake finds not only the Admiral but Maverick and another female that he's yet to have seen before. All heads turn towards him when he enters, as if he were interrupting something. Immediately, Jake snaps to attention, his heels clicking together and his fingers brushing his brow with a sharpness that would make the academy proud.

Cyclone nods in his direction, acknowledging Jake's customary greeting and dismissing him with the notion. "Lt. Seresin," he begins, gesturing to the female standing across the room. "This is Lt. (L/n). She's uh—a member of the squad that I briefed you on yesterday."

He hadn't noticed that she was wearing Army OCPs but he connects the dots as soon as the admiral mentions her name. He remembers reading it on the projector during the meeting.

Rather than introducing herself, the soldier stands rigidly across from him, her arms folded in front of her chest with a look on her face that Jake can only describe as fucking pissed. Unsure of what to do but aware from personal experience with Phoenix that he shouldn't try to cross any unknown boundaries, Jake settles for offering her a respectful nod. She glares back at him.

"You're two of our only service members with active combat experience," Cyclone continues, obviously ignoring the girl's crossed disposition. "I'm hoping that you and Lt. (L/n) can find some common ground. Perhaps it would do you both some good to—"

"Respectfully, sir, if I wanted to vent to someone about my feelings, I'd go see a shrink," the woman growls. "I recommend you do the same, Lt. Seresin." Her tone makes Jake's brow raise slightly in surprise. No one talks to an admiral like that, not even Pete Mitchell.

"Lt. (L/n)," Cyclone snaps. "That's quite enough."

This time, she rolls her eyes with a scoff. "You can't just—"

"Get out."

She clamps her jaw shut but doesn't budge from where her feet are planted in the ground.

"I said, Get. Out," Cyclone reiterates.

The eyes that had caught Jake's attention in the first place fix the admiral with a chilling stare. To Jake, there's something familiar in those eyes. Some sort of unmistakably justifiable rage that runs deeper than just being dismissed from the conversation. Jake watches, his breath stalled as she sets her jaw, unwilling to move, when it hits him. Identical jawlines and untwitching scowls mirror each other.

The illegitimate child of Admiral Beau Simpson stands before him.

He doesn't know how he didn't see it before, granted they don't share a last name, but Jake was aware that the Admiral was divorced, had been for a while. Allegedly he wasn't the marrying type. Jake isn't surprised by the statement. Beau Simpson is a hard man to deal with.

Jake watches in silence as the girl ultimately releases an irritated huff and storms out of the office, slamming the door behind her. He can hear the loud, petulant stomp of her boots as she retreats down the hall. Evidently her looks weren't the only thing that she got from her dad. She had a temper that rivaled even Bradshaw's.

The clearing of the Admiral's throat removes Jake's eyes from the door. "I hope you can forgive my daughter's behavior. Her return to the states has been...difficult."

"I'm sure difficult is the way she would describe you too sir," Maverick jokes.

Cyclone fixes him with a perturbed glare but decidedly ignores his comment in favor of addressing Jake. "Lt. (L/n)'s squadron was ambushed six months ago. Just about everything that could have gone wrong went wrong and she was the only survivor. As her father, I wanted her to accept the Purple Heart and retire." He gestures flippantly towards the door. "Obviously that's not what she did."

Jake speaks for the first time since he entered the room. "Respectfully, sir, I don't blame her. I'm taking this career to the grave. I'm sure both your daughter and Captain Mitchell can agree," he adds glancing over at his instructor.

Before Maverick can voice his agreement, the admiral cuts him off.

"As I'm sure Captain Mitchell can attest to, as her father, I'm just trying to look out for her."

With his preexisting connection to Rooster, the godson that he would risk his career to protect, Maverick has no room to disagree with the admiral. For once, the captain, who usually always has something to say, stands with his palms folded behind his back and keeps his mouth shut.

"As I was saying," Cyclone continues, taking a seat behind his desk and kicking back as if to signal that he's won the conversation. "It is my hope that given your own—" the admiral hesitates for just a moment too long for Jake's liking "—personal experience, you'll be able to get through to her."

Jake swallows and hopes that he doesn't look as uneasy as the insinuation makes him feel. He has to take a moment to reassure himself that the psych unit has repeatedly cleared him for duty and that no one's threatening to take his wings away.

The nights that he wakes up, drenched in sweat, with his fingers wrapped around imaginary joysticks hard enough to make his palms bleed are few and far in between these days. And even those he's gotten good enough at faking like they don't bother him because he hasn't failed a psych evaluation in months.

It doesn't mean he likes to talk about it or that he won't hear the fear in Rooster's voice if he does.

But he's more scared of not flying than anything, so all Jake does is nod and offer a dry, "I'll do my best, sir."

———

PTSD or modern day shell-shock is what they like to call it. You call it waiting on the other shoe to drop.

Because there is always another shoe.

The slam of a beer bottle down on the bar top lights your nerves up like nothing else. It sends your heart straight to your stomach and makes your palms sweat like when you miss a step on the stairs and for a split second, you think you're going to die. You never do of course, but your body is hard wired that way to keep you alive.

There's a flaw in your system that hasn't been right since the east.

You knew that a popular naval bar on a Friday night wasn't the best place for you these days but your nerves had been yearning for an ice cold beer and fuck all if you weren't going to get one. The alcohol would soothe your nerves anyhow.

But after thirty minutes of waiting on said beer, you were beginning to lose your patience. Normally you weren't bothered by that kind of thing. The place was obviously busy and the lone woman behind the bar was doing her best to satisfy the flock of servicemen that only seemed to accumulate with every beer that she handed out.

Just when you're about to give up and leave, a large hand covers your lower back, pressing you forwards through the crowd and toward the bar top.

"Two more on me, please, Penny."

The voice belongs to the tall man standing behind you. He's removed his firm, but respectfully placed palm from your back and is now leaning over you to accept the two dripping bottles of beer. It doesn't take you long to recognize the green of his eyes from a few days prior.

"My dad didn't put you up to this did he?" you ask, somewhat reluctantly taking the bottle that he offers you. It's finger numbing cold, just how you like it.

He kind of just slowly smiles and shakes his head.

Immediately you feel like a jerk. You sigh, dropping your shoulders and smile softly back. "Sorry. That was rude."

"No, ma'am, he didn't. Just had to find out if you smiled like that all the time."

The part of you that's a little bit of a bitch makes you clench your teeth together, tightening the smile that was once spread across your lips. "I'm not looking for that kind of thing right now," is all you say.

You want to tell him that you used to not be so mean.

At the realization that his words had the exact opposite effect of what he was going for, the guy graciously extends his hand. "Look I don't mean to bother you, I just wanted to say hi."

Despite not being keen on his advances, you aren't going to be rude so you accept his outstretched hand. You're surprised by his gentleness. It's not the rough, over-masculine shake you are expecting.

"Lieutenant (Y/n) (L/n)."

"I know your name," he admits with a light, almost embarrassed laugh. "I think everybody in here knows your name."

Your skin prickles. You stare at him stoney faced, bracing yourself for what's going to come out of his mouth. "Why's that?"

The guy—Lt. Seresin—you're remembering, shrugs. "I mean, you're quite the story back here in the states. A bit of a ghost story, I must say."

Ghost story is right. Because who survives that? How the fuck does a twenty-two year old girl survive an outnumbered ambush and not eight men with years of experience? Not someone who deserves to be called a hero, that's for sure.

You're trying your best to keep your cool with him. You know that you're in a public space and he's just being friendly. You used to be so good at this kind of thing, the flirting and small talk.

The thought occurs to you that maybe this is what you need. Maybe this will make you feel normal again. You need to feel normal again.

Maybe that is why you let him lean in closer, buy you another drink when yours runs dry, and another one after that. Maybe that is why you make an effort to laugh when he does, and you close your eyes when he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You let out the breath that's been tightening your ribcage and do your best to smile. "Thank you for the beer. You didn't have to do that." You hope the words sound as genuine as they're intended to.

He smiles back like he's supposed to, all polite and inherently forgiving of your original attitude. You catch onto the way it doesn't quite reach his eyes. You're not sure why but it makes you think maybe he's just a bit sad too.

Maybe that is why he lets you wordlessly take his hand and lead him to the back of the bar. Maybe that is why he lets you sink to your knees on the cold, sticky tiles of the men's bathroom floor, his hands already fumbling to unbuckle his belt.

It smells like beer and piss, and you don't even wait for him to get fully hard before you take him in your mouth, your nose buried into his pelvis, where it smells like sweat. It's all wrong and right at the same time, and he won't ask you to stop. He just curls his fingers into a fistful of your hair, pinpricks stinging at your scalp the same way tears sting at your eyes.

He—Jake—he'd told you a while ago, has a pretty cock. At least as pretty as cocks go. Pink and ruddy at the tip, where it mushroomed beautifully. Almost dauntingly long but not grossly so with a throbbing vein on the underside. You run your tongue along it and he muffles a whimper, his fingers wrapping harder around your hair in an effort not to buck up into your mouth. At least he's a gentleman about it.

He's heavy and twitching in your mouth. You feel heavy. He is standing above you, a harsh line of a man against the buzzing bathroom light. You remind yourself to breathe through your nose and he punches himself further, the head of his cock skimming the back of your throat.

You swallow around him, trying to hold together what little is left of your remaining sense of self. It's been a while since you've been so careless as to place yourself in someone else's hands, rolled over and showed your belly to someone who could easily take advantage of you.

Your jaw aches, uncomfortable and familiar, like something you don't want to remember. Tears well up behind your eyes, the threat of an unwanted but unknown feeling looming just out of reach. Jake's hand in your hair hold your head firmly against his pelvis, hips rocking up into your mouth. He sighs like he can finally breathe.

You can't breathe.

You try to and something rasps inside of you, choking. The feeling that had been looming threateningly sparkles through you. Panic.

You know that he tries to settle you, does his best to wipe the tears leaking from your eyes with his thumbs and murmurs softly to you. "Breathe. It's okay, breathe for me."

You can't. You can't breathe.

Your head is pounding and suddenly you aren't kneeling on the bathroom floor of the bar. You're on the ground, crying, screaming like a wounded animal and no one is coming to help. You can almost feel the dirt under your knees, taste the blood in your mouth.

"Y/N, you have to breathe."

Someone's grabbing you, hauling your useless feet across the floor. Your chest hurts like you've been punched with a bowling ball.

"C'mon, let's get some air."

How you end up outside the bathroom is beside you. All you know is one minute you're dying on your knees back in the desert and the next you're being sat down on the back steps of the bar.

The cool air of the San Diego evening brings you back. That and the press of a cup of ice water to your lips, the condensation dripping from the glass and rolling down your throat. You swallow, letting the cool liquid soothe your burning throat.

You're aware of Jake sitting down beside you, close enough to touch if he wanted to but still keeping his distance. You can feel his eyes on you, watching carefully for a moment before he turns to stare out at the not so distance shoreline.

Your stomach feels odd, like you might be sick.

He probably thinks you're insane. You would think the same. But if he's dying to ask what the hell that was, he's doing a good job of hiding it.

How do you tell him that sometimes you think that you should have died, that sometimes the memories almost kill you?

"I hid."

He looks up from peeling off the label around the neck of his bottle. "What?"

You swallow, trying to collect yourself before your words fail you.

"I hid. A—After I was shot, I didn't get back up. I crawled under the humvee and... and I just laid there. I laid there and I closed my eyes and I prayed. I prayed that they wouldn't notice me lying under there or that they if they did, they would think I was already dead."

A mixture of sweat and dust burns your eyes. When you blink, you can feel the sandy grit trapped between them. You squeeze them shut while trying to swallow back the dryness of your throat in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort, but it doesn't do much. An unwarranted tear escapes and runs down the track of your nose.

With your rifle held closely to your chest, you let it slide down and collect on the bow of your lip. It joins the puddle of sweat that has already accumulated there. Out here, the sun cooks you alive. You swear it's a constant one thousand degrees. The twenty pounds of kevlar doesn't help.

Dirt kicks up beside you and gravel showers your helmet as a round of bullets buries themselves into the ground a mere six inches from your face. You hardly flinch.

Somebody is screaming. The sound of machine gun fire is ringing in your ears. Somebody is screaming.

"(L/N), C'MON. LET'S MOVE."

It's Cain. He's grabbing the strap of your kevlar vest and yanking you to your feet. You scramble after him, desperate not to be left behind. Bullets explode at your feet the moment the two of you emerge from the concealment of the dirt mound. Fear makes you run faster.

You spot Manny crouched behind the tire of the SUV to your right. He's firing rounds into the brush. You can tell that he's bleeding from a wound to his arm and you're about to veer off to help him when his head jerks backwards, the scattered remains of his brain plastered onto the white side of the truck.

You stop running, the words caught in your throat.

"RUN," Cain screams. He'd backtracked a few paces and grabs hold of your vest once again to drag you behind a second SUV. You stumble over him, falling haphazardly onto your rear once he lets go of you. He immediately turns to fire over the hood of the truck, and the bullets hitting the truck stop momentarily.

Clawing at the gravel on the ground, you hurry to scramble to your feet. Your head is pounding, your mouth dry and gritty. Huffing, you glance between Cain, who is fumbling to reload his magazine, and the crumpled figure of Manny a few yards away. You can only hope Ronny is still out there somewhere.

Before you can even try to locate him or any other members of the squad, movement to your left springs your muscles into action. You slam your back into the side door of the SUV just as a round of bullets pelt the spot where you were standing just moments before. Automatically, you raise your gun, returning the fire. There are a few more shots fired in retaliation, but they stop a second later.

Once you're sure they're subdued, you lower your gun, breathing hard. There's so much smoke and debris in the air that you can hardly even see Cain ten feet away. He's shuffling towards you in a low crouch.

"Let's move, (L/n). They know where we are. We've got to find different cover."

You nod, your finger still pressed tightly to the trigger of your weapon. You drop into a crouch and follow behind him as he creeps towards the back of the truck. He pauses a moment, scanning the landscape before looking back at you. His blue eyes are a startling contrast to the dirt and sweat covering his tanned face. He lifts his gun in the direction of a flipped humvee about fifty yards away. His mouth moves in a silent command.

One.

Two.

Three.

The gunfire starts up as soon as the two of you spring from behind the vehicle. You can hear the whizzing of bullets as they just barely miss your head. All you can do is pray you don't trip as you struggle to keep up with Cain. Your lungs burn and your boots feel impossibly heavy.

The terrain is barren but the ground loose, and rocks threaten to upend your footing, slipping out from beneath your feet as the two of you flee towards the vehicle.

30 yards from the humvee, Cain tumbles to the ground with a broken cry. The bullet catches him in the thigh, stopping him mid stride. He hits the ground hard.

Without even thinking, you skid to a stop. Bullets spray the ground around you. Somehow you're more afraid of leaving him than being shot.

"Go!" he yells at you, already trying to shove you away. "Go, I'm coming!"

Already, there's a lake of blood beneath him. You step in it and the ground squelches under your boot. Crimson gushes from his left thigh, effectively saturating the fabric of his pants. His face is terrifyingly pale. The bullet must have hit his femoral artery.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Like hell," you snap at him, your pervious fear suddenly boiling into the purest form of anger you've ever felt. Angry for being in this situation in the first place. Angry that of all people, Cain is going to die.

It's terrifying how quickly the realization comes to you, how easily you accept it as the truth. There's already too much blood. Without a tourniquet, he'll bleed out in minutes and there's not quite time for that.

"Leaving him behind wasn't an option. It never even occurred to me that it was," you confess, as if saying it aloud will somehow explain away this title of heroism that everyone wants to pin on you. "Dead or alive, he was coming with me."

You shoulder your rifle and use both hands to grab onto the straps of his vest, hefting him backwards towards the truck.

He must clamp onto his bottom lip to stop the scream that threatens to escape because the noise that comes from his mouth is garbled.

You drag Cain about ten feet before you realize how just heavy he is. There's sweat leaking into your eyes and all you can see is the bloody lake that's left behind as you drag him through the dust. Cain's gone quiet, his head lulled to the side, eyes almost shut.

"C'mon, Cain. We're almost there."

His boot snags on a rock, and when you tug him free, he doesn't utter a word.

Something inside of you knows he's gone, was gone long before you started dragging him. You're still ten yards from the SUV.

POP. POP. POP.

You pause, your eyes fixed ahead of you. "Have you ever been shot before?"

Beside you, Jake shakes his head.

"It feels like someone has shot a bowling ball into your chest. Knocks the breath right out of you."

Pain explodes straight through your ribcage. Your vision clouds and you're vaguely aware of your knees buckling beneath you.

When you come to, all of the wind has been knocked out of you from hitting the ground so hard and your immediate reflex is to suck in a reviving breath. Instead all that comes out is a gurgle, the tell tale sign that your chest cavity is filling with blood.

You swallow, looking off at the dark shoreline of the beach, watching as the waves crash against the sand. "I knew that I wasn't dead yet—I did— I just—" Your throat constricts and when you speak again your voice is quieter. "He was already gone so maybe a part of me had already gone with him."

Jake nods slowly, as if putting together the pieces that you're laying down bit by bit. Somehow his green eyes have remained soft this entire time and maybe that's where you find the courage to continue.

Lifting your head, you crane your neck to see the damage, but the thick layer of kevlar strapped to your chest obstructs your view of the lower half of your body. Grunting in frustration, you reach blindly in the direction that the pain is radiating from. Numbly, your fingers find the gushing hole in your side. The bullet had buried itself in the exposed inch of your stomach between your belt and your vest.

There mustn't be an exit wound because there isn't a ton of blood surrounding you. If the wet cough you emit is anything to go by, it's probably pooling in your abdominal cavity instead.

You're going to die.

"I don't know how long I laid there," you admit. "I knew that the clock was ticking, had been since the moment I hit the ground. It was only a matter of time before I blacked out or bled out... I guess I was just waiting to see which one came first."

The scattered rounds hitting the ground around you become muffled background noise as the lull of unconsciousness begins to sweep over you, dulling the world as you know it. Through the haze of your fading senses, your eyes fall on Cain's motionless figure a few feet beside you.

He's lying face up, his desert tan uniform seeped a muddy crimson. You'd known he was dead a while ago. Still, you carried him. He'd have done the same for you. He was your brother, dead or alive.

Blood bubbles from your nose as you struggle to keep yourself breathing. The fact that you have to remind yourself to do that isn't a promising sign. Your body is shutting down, doing anything it can to keep your heart pumping, even if it means shutting down everything else.

Somewhere through the dullness, you hear Cain's voice. MOVE, (L/N).

You close your eyes, trying to picture his face from what had been just a few minutes ago. You remember the urgency in his blue eyes, the intensity of his fear overridden by adrenaline. How had that been only moments ago?

MOVE, (L/N).

"I—I heard his voice," you state, your tone not open for discussion. "Not the gun fire, not God, not anyone else's. I heard his voice."

So many people had tried to convince you otherwise, tried to tell you that it was because of the shock and your brain was shutting down, that you were hearing things. But you know what you heard.

"He saved my life, Jake."

You can see the gears turning in his head, the question carefully forming on his lips. "Were you two— I mean was he—"

It's the first time you have to suck back tears, your chest rattling with a longing emptiness as you fight the urge to cry. Memories of his wild blue eyes and wide smile that could only ever mean he was misbehaving flash through your mind.

You met Sergeant Anthony Cain not long after you commissioned as a Lieutenant. You were still a green officer when you were charged with your first platoon and given orders to deploy out East. You were scared as hell and Cain was your saving grace. He came in as if he'd always known you needed him and the rest was history.

There was never any question about intentions or commitment to each other. Cain was as honest as they came and you left it at that. You never imagined that's where your story would begin and end.

"I don't know, Jake. We didn't get that far."

Forcing your eyes open, you access the area around you. The sound of enemy fire has slowed but that doesn't mean movement won't trigger a return of bullets your way. Still, you know they'll be looking for survivors once the dust settles, and you don't want to be around when they do.

The humvee is only a little over ten yards away. You might would say it was crawling distance if it weren't for the fact that you were actively bleeding out. Even so, you don't really have any other option.

You take as deep of a breath as you can, your chest rasping as you do so, before lifting your right leg and using the weight of it to swing yourself over onto your stomach. Immediately, searing hot pain radiates through your chest and legs. You cry out, curling in on yourself, writhing on the ground like a wounded animal.

Sputtering, trying to breathe through the pain long enough so that you can move, you feel hot tears track down your face. They're tears of insurmountable pain and hopeless desperation.

"All I kept thinking was 'how does anyone survive this?' It was unimaginable, the pain. Looking back now, I don't know how I did it. I don't think I could do it again if I had to," you admit.

Softly, as not to scare you, you feel the gentle weight of Jake's palm on your knee. "You won't have to," he promises. "But you did it. You survived."

You stare down at his hand on your knee.

With a trembling, blood stained hand, you reach out in front of you and dig your fingers into the ground. Heaving, you draw yourself forward, your legs dragging limply through the dust. It takes an unimaginable amount of strength to pull yourself even six inches.

Sniffling back tears and out of breath, you curl your fingers into the ground and drag yourself forward again. This time, you probably only move half as far. You have to fight the urge to just lay your cheek against the ground and cry.

You do this again and again, keeping one hand pressed into the gushing wound at your side while the other drags you forward. Your lower half has become increasingly heavier with each passing minute, your legs nothing but dead weight to pull along. You don't think you could move them if you tried.

It takes you forty minutes to drag yourself to the humvee. By the time you get yourself fully under the abandoned vehicle, your fingers are torn and bleeding, the tips ripped open and embedded with bits of gravel.

Your muscles collapse the very second you give them the chance. Your forehead drops down to rest against the ground, and you finally have a moment to shudder out a sob. Your throat is dry and cracked, and dust coats the inside of your mouth. You're dimly aware that your breaths are dangerously shallow. You just know that you're miserably nauseous and each passing moment is more unbearable than the next.

You turn your own palm over, staring at the scars of your ruined finger tips, scars that tell a story of how you survived. They're ugly, and you wish you didn't have to look at the all of the time. At least your torso is mostly hidden. You've moved to a beach town and will never be able to put on a swimsuit.

Jake’s eyes follow yours and after a moment he flips his palm over, his fingers spread and inviting. His hands are large and calloused from years of flying. There are fingernail divots in his palm.

Almost shyly, his green eyes meet yours. You see a bit of that sadness you saw earlier. “I know it’s not my job to be your shrink or whatever,” he adds with a laugh and you can’t help but laugh with him. “But you’re not alone. We’re all a bit fucked up if you haven’t noticed.” He shrugs. “It comes with the job.”

You can’t help yourself. You trace a finger over the scarred palm of his hand. “My dad would disagree.”

Jake is fighting the urge to close his palm around yours, not wanting to overstep, and so he’s pleased when you intertwine your fingers with his.

“Family dinner must be interesting.”

Jake came from a military family himself and so he knows how deep the ties run. His old man was a sailor and so he knew better than to come home sporting anything other than his dress whites.

You laugh out loud because he’s not wrong at all. Jake squeezes your fingers in response. His hand feels good in yours. Safe and heavy in the way a padlock feels. Like he’s not going anywhere.

“It’s not all ‘Go Army, Beat Navy’ believe it or not. Don’t get me wrong, I was raised a Navy brat and I have a hell of a lot of respect for my old man, but at the end of the day, I had to choose myself. I couldn’t do that with him watching over my shoulder. The Army’s been both the greatest and the worst thing that could have happened to me,” you confess.

Jake hums, dare you say almost disbelievingly.

“What?”

“A few weeks here and you’ll change your mind. No one does it like the Navy does.”

It’s your turn to make a noise of disbelief.

“I guess you’ll just have to impress me, Flyboy.”

Jake squeezes your hand again. “Oh I plan to.”

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lewmagoo · 1 year ago

Text

to my heart, he carries the key | bob floyd

sequel to someone to watch over me (i recommend reading the first part beforehand so this makes more sense)

description: in which a threat is made against the president’s daughter’s life, and agent robert floyd is tasked with carrying out ‘operation hidden angel’

characters: secret service agent bob floyd x f!reader, pete mitchell, beau simpson, dagger squad as their own respective characters

warnings: 18+, mentions of domestic terrorism, military, secret service and us gov’t inaccuracies, smut, unprotected sex, forbidden love, gun violence, attempted kidnapping, hospitals, broken bones, angst, hopeful ending

Things had changed in The White House.

It had been three months since that fateful night during a charity event, where a man in the crowd targeted the First Daughter of the United States. Agents Robert Floyd, Jacob Seresin, and Reuben Fitch intercepted the perpetrator, and he was disarmed before he could harm anyone. He had been taken into custody, and after weeks of extensive questioning and investigation, The Department of Homeland Security had determined that this man was not working alone. He was a member of a homegrown terrorist organization.

The only thing they couldn’t get out of him was the location of the organization. He refused to give them up, but he was adamant that in a few short months, they were going to go through with their next act of violence. And this time, people were going to die.

It was very calculated. Every last detail was planned out. How they would get the attention of the American public. How they would carry out their threat against the US government. And the way that they planned to do that?

Why, kidnapping the president’s daughter, of course.

During the time it took to obtain that information from the perpetrator, there was unrest in The White House. A changing of the guard, so to speak, was taking place. Tragedy had struck in the personal life of Pete Mitchell, head of White House security.

His husband of over thirty years, Tom Kazansky, had passed away after a bout with cancer. Pete took it hard. Hard enough that after the funeral and the burial and everything in between, he decided that it was time to retire from his decade long position as head of security.

It was not a decision that he took lightly. In fact, he’d agonized over it before finally biting the bullet and placing his letter of resignation upon the president’s desk.

“The truth is, I’m getting too old for this,” he told his team of agents, as he addressed them on the day he left. “I know, I know, it’s shocking to most of you,” he teased, as lighthearted chuckles filled the room. “But…it’s time for me to step down. Tom’s death showed me how fragile life is, and how much I should be cherishing it. I have grandchildren on the way, and I plan to be here to watch them grow up.” He glanced at Bradley Bradshaw, and the pair shared a silent understanding. Bradley’s wife was expecting. Pete didn’t want to miss a moment of that little one’s life.

“So, in my stead, Beau Simpson has agreed to take on the position as the new White House Head of Security.”

And thus, new leadership walked onto the stage.

At first, things weren’t that much difference. Your personal security detail, with Bob as the head, remained the same. Everyone missed Agent Mitchell, but life had to go on. And go on, it did.

Bob, for one, wasn’t the biggest fan of change. But change was part of the job, it was part of life, so he couldn’t make a big deal about it. When Simpson began to implement subtle changes into the way things were done, Bob bristled, but he didn’t speak out. He held his tongue, because he had a sneaking suspicion that if he were to rebel against Simpson’s leadership, he’d lose his job faster than he could even blink.

So he simply observed silently and waited to see just how many changes Simpson was going to make.

And then, one day, Bob was called into the president’s office, where he stood before Agent Simpson and POTUS himself. “Do you know why we’ve brought you in, Agent Floyd?” Beau asked.

“No sir,” came Bob’s simple response. He didn’t get the sense that he was losing his job, so he had no idea why he was standing here in the Oval Office.

“I’m sure you recall three months ago, when a threat was made against the president’s daughter.”

“Yes sir, vividly.” He’d never forget that night. Never forget the terror in your voice as you called out for him.

Then, the president interjected. “As Agent Mitchell previously briefed you, the perpetrator was part of a domestic terrorist organization here on our soil. Recently, he confessed to agents that this group will be carrying out an act of violence upon the American people. We aren’t sure where, or when exactly, but what we are sure of, is that they’re going to go after my daughter again.”

Agent Simpson picked up where the man left off. “Listen very carefully to what I am about to tell you. What we talk about here is strictly confidential. It is a matter of national security.” Then he leaned closer toward Bob. “I am going to give you a set of coordinates. No one else but you, me, and the president know them. Once I give them to you, I want you to be prepared for my signal. When I deem it necessary, you will go to the Residence, retrieve his daughter, and escort her to this location. You will not bring any other agents with you. Just you, and herself. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir. But why am I being given coordinates contrary to the location of the safe house that was already put in place?”

“Because that location has been compromised. You must only escort her to the coordinates I give you. Her life depends on it.”

“And when we get there?”

“You wait for my all clear. It won’t be safe to bring her back home until the threat is neutralized. Can you carry out these orders?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Now memorize these coordinates.” Agent Simpson recited the numbers twice. Bob had an excellent memory, and stored away the information easily. Once he confirmed the coordinates by reciting them back to the man, Beau nodded. “From here on out, you will be prepared at all times to carry out Operation Hidden Angel.”

Bob breathed in, then out. Then he nodded. “I will be standing by awaiting further orders.”

The president stood from behind his desk. “I trust you to do whatever it takes to protect my only child, Agent Floyd. Don’t make me regret it.”

“Whatever it takes, sir.”

He was dismissed from the office, and his head was spinning. Suddenly, he was burdened with a deep sense of pressure. The need to do his job well. Not because your father and the entire country was depending on him, but because you were depending on him.

He had taken an oath to serve and protect. And he meant it. Even before he knew he loved you, he had made good on that oath. And now, even more so. You were infinitely precious to him, and he would do whatever it took to ensure your safety.

Even if it meant giving his life to ensure it. He was fully prepared to go to that length if he needed to.

That night, he couldn’t sleep. His mind kept drifting to you. To how much he loved you. How much he missed you. He saw you everyday. He escorted you to wherever you needed to go. But those moments did not allow him to be alone with you in the way that you both wanted. There were always prying eyes. Other members of your security detail. Cameras. Nosey reporters. Your relationship had remained secret all this time, and you couldn’t risk exposing it.

So he would continue pining for you, desiring you, hoping for a private moment to at least hold you in his arms. Little did he know he was about to get that opportunity, just not in the way that he was expecting.

The orders came one Friday afternoon. The work day was coming to a close. At that moment, you were in your quarters getting ready. That evening, you had a dinner engagement with a friend from college. Bob had only just finished briefing the rest of your detail on what the itinerary was for the night. Everyone was prepped and on the same page.

And then, Agent Simpson’s voice spoke into his earpiece.

“Agent Floyd, it’s time to enact Operation Hidden Angel.”

He tensed, his heart seizing in his chest as a shock of dread shuddered down his spine. This was it. His worst fear was coming true. Your life had been directly threatened, and it was time to take you to the designated safe house deep in the Virginia mountains.

And when Bob received that command, he had no choice but to act on it. He touched his fingers to his earpiece and responded. “Copy that. Operation Hidden Angel commencing.”

And then he was off, his shoes tapping rhythmically against the polished wooden floors as he rushed down each hallway and corridor. Adrenaline drove him forward, and he soon came to the entrance to the residence. Breathing in deeply to steady himself, he knocked twice before he opened the doors.

He knew where you were. He didn’t have to search. You were in your bedroom, readying yourself for the night ahead. For propriety’s sake, he knocked softly. If he hadn’t been afraid that someone might see him, he would’ve just burst into the room.

He still had to keep up the appearance that you were not romantically involved.

On the other side of the door, you were just setting out the outfit you would wear that night. You were entirely oblivious to the looming danger, eager for an eveningof catching up with an old friend. “Come in!” You called out as you debated which accessories to add to your outfit.

You were surprised to see Bob in your doorway. You smiled at the unexpected visit, but your smile soon faded when you saw the urgent look on his face. “You need to grab your emergency bag and come with me. Now.”

Your stomach dropped. “Bobby, what—”

“Just come. It’s not safe for you to be here right now.”

Deciding it best not to ask any further questions in the moment, you rushed to your closet, trembling hands yanking out the bag of packed necessities you kept for emergencies such as this. Then you shoved your feet into your shoes and rushed after him.

“What’s happening?” You asked as you followed Bob out of your room and down the corridor that led out of the residence.

“Can’t tell you the details. Just need to get you somewhere safe.”

“But-”

He turned, stopping you in your tracks. “Do you trust me?” He asked, blazing blue eyes locked with yours.

“With my life,” you replied without hesitation.

“Then stick with me. I’ll keep you safe.”

So you stopped asking questions. You followed Bob through the back hallways of the White House, allowing him to lead you, trusting in his guidance. You knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would protect you. He always had. When there was a threat against your safety, he was the first to run toward the danger.

But now, you were both running from it. You knew it had to be serious if you were being removed from The White House. Someone had likely made a significant threat, and Agent Simpson had advised you be removed from the premises until the threat was neutralized.

But would the danger ever be gone? Even if this particular instance was taken care of, others would come up in the future. You would never be safe, because that was just your life as the president’s one and only child.

You did, however, feel safe with the man in front of you. His large, warm hand engulfed your own as he led you down beneath the building. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to ensure your protection. Not only because it was his duty, but because he couldn’t live with himself if something happened to you. He loved you too much.

And that was the sticky part of the situation. No one knew about your secret love for one another. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Someone did know. Bradley Bradshaw, Bob’s secondhand man on your security detail, had silently put two and two together. He’d never outright told either of you that he knew, but there seemed to be a silent understanding between him and Bob. A way of communicating that had come with years of working alongside each other in the same military branch. Neither one of them had to say a word, but they knew what the other was thinking.

Bradley had kept your secret all this time. You were often surprised that no one had found out, and both you and Bob lived in fear that one day, your father would find out. And if that were to happen, you would lose Bob. He would be dismissed from his duties and you would likely never see him again. The thought broke your heart.

But for the time being, you were able to slip under the radar. Now, especially, because it was just the two of you. And for a moment, you wondered why the rest of your detail wasn’t with you. “Bob, where’s the rest of the team?” You asked as he pulled you to a stop outside a sleek black sedan. He grabbed your bag and threw it in the backseat before motioning for you to climb in alongside it.

“I’ll explain later.” He ushered you into your seat before he scurried to the driver’s side and slipped into the seat. The engine roared to life seconds later, and he glanced back at you. “Buckle up.”

You did.

Then he was taking off, headed out of the parking garage. As he hit the gas, he spoke into his earpiece. “Angel is flying.”

“Bob, why is it just the two of us?” You reiterated your question from a few moments earlier.

He glanced at you through the rearview, debating just how much he should tell you. “The more people that know where we’re going, the more danger it puts you in. Only your dad and Agent Simpson know where we’re going.”

“Where are we going?”

“Just…just don’t ask questions, okay, honey? The less you know, the safer you are.”

You heeded his words and settled back into your seat, your heart racing against your ribcage. This was more serious than you realized, wasn’t it? And as you thought about it, the more fearful you became. Your life was in danger, and it was an odd feeling.

Who were you, that someone wanted to kill you? Your father’s decisions were not a reflection of your own morals or beliefs. You had no control over the way he chose to run the country. But there were times when his decisions put a target on his family’s back. Yours especially, because as his child, you were his biggest weakness. Remove you from the equation, and one would have the President of the United States in the palm of their hand, willing to do whatever they asked just to get you back.

This was why proactive measures were being taken. You couldn’t be used as a bargaining chip if you were in hiding. But oh, how you hated it. This was your father’s second term. You had been living in the White House for much too long, and you were tired of it. Tired of the world’s eyes being on you at all times. Tired of the politics and the responsibility. You had never asked for this. This was your father’s endeavor, you were just along for the ride.

But it had resulted in you being placed into the back of a bulletproof car and driven off to some top-secret location just to keep you safe. And from the back of that seat, your eyes observed the singular agent in charge of maintaining that safety. He wasn’t looking at you through the rearview, his eyes were on the road where they belonged. But you could see the conflict in those beautiful blues. You could see the fear.

Whatever this threat was had scared him. And that was saying something, because Bob Floyd didn’t scare easily. But when it came to protecting you, he did get scared. Terrified, even. He just didn’t let you see it. He wanted you to trust him, to feel secure. And you did. In fact, no one else made you feel as secure as he did. Yes, the rest of your detail did a wonderful job. You knew you could trust them with your life.

But because you loved Bob so much, you sought him out for shelter and protection. He was the first you turned to when you were frightened or felt unsafe. And he loved being that for you. Loved that you looked to him for those things.

However, he sometimes thought about the day he might fail you. Would his feelings for you hinder his ability to protect you effectively? Would he be blinded by love? It hadn’t happened yet, but he knew if he was even a smidge off his game, Agent Simpson would be able to sniff it out. And he would not let Bob off the hook for it, either. He’d instruct him to end his relationship with you immediately. And there would be no second chance. Beau would tell the president, and Bob’s position would be terminated.

But it had not gotten to that point, and you prayed it never would. You much preferred sharing this intimate little secret. It did make maintaining your relationship a little difficult, because there were times when you wished you had the guts to tell your father, to tell the world. But the thought of the repercussions that would follow always made you decide against it.

You wanted to relish in this secret for a little longer. If the time ever did come to reveal your relationship, you would know. Until then, you remained under the radar, stealing private moments when you could, and otherwise keeping your distance when it was appropriate.

But now you were entirely alone. No prying eyes. No risk of being caught. You were alone, because Bob was the only one your father trusted to watch over you. Because some unhinged madman had made a threat against your life and Bob would sooner die than let any harm come to you.

“You’re taking me to the safe house, aren’t you?” You spoke up. You had no idea where the house was located, but you had heard of presidents in the past utilizing safe houses. If you were being physically removed from The White House and taken elsewhere, a safe house was the only logical destination you could think of.

Bob caught your eye through the rearview mirror. His expression was bleak, and he said nothing, but it confirmed what you were asking.

The drive to the safe house was two hours. You left behind the bustling area of Washington, D.C. and headed into the mountains of Virginia. And as you went, the sun began to sink lower in the sky, allowing eventide to grace the land.

You and Bob hardly spoke, which was uncommon. But you could tell he was harrowed by this situation, and in turn, you were just as scared. It rendered you both silent for the rest of the ride. Instead, you stared out the window, watching the landscape go by, wondering how long you would have to stay here. A night? A week? A month? How serious was this threat made against you? How immediate was the danger?

All these questions swirled in your mind as Bob drove up a winding, dirt drive. It seemed to go on forever, and the farther he went, the darker it got. But he kept going, until finally, he was pulling up outside a small cabin.

You stared in confusion. Surely this couldn’t be it, right? When thinking of a safe house, you imagined concrete walls and impenetrable security systems. This was just a cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Bob was confused as well. An odd feeling churned to life in his gut. Something didn’t feel quite right about this, but these were the coordinates he was given. He had not made a mistake in his navigation. You were where you were supposed to be.

“Are you sure this is the place?” You asked as he pulled the car behind the house, intending to keep it hidden from view so as not to raise any suspicions if anyone were to happen upon the place.

“These are the coordinates I was given. I followed orders,” Bob replied, a little sharply, but his annoyance wasn’t directed at you. It was at whoever had designated this as a safe house. Surely the US government could afford something more than this, right?

“I just…was expecting something more grand. A fortress or something,” came your explanation.

Bob softened. “Honestly, me too. I didn’t know what to expect. They gave me the coordinates when I first took charge of your detail. I always assumed the safe house was a bunker.”

Both of you were wrong. Instead, it was a quaint cabin that looked like any normal cabin in the forest might look. However, when you got up to the porch, you found a keypad on the door. It had to be unlocked by a code.

Bob spoke into his mic. “Angel has landed safely.”

Seconds later, Agent Simpson’s voice crackled to life in his ear. “Copy that,” he said. And then, “zero one zero two nine three.”

Bob typed the numbers into the keypad, and the sound of a lock turning reached his ears. Seconds later, the door was unlocked. He opened the door and took a look inside, scoping out the place.

It looked like a typical hunting cabin, except more well furnished. a seating area off to the left, complete with a bearskin rug. A small kitchen off to the right. An old oak dining table in the middle of the main room.

“Let me see,” you spoke up from behind him.

He stepped forward into the house and allowed you to follow suit. As soon as you were both safely inside, he shut the door, manually locking it. He was surprised at the addition of windows to the cabin. As you wandered around and explored the place, he parted the blackout curtain that hung upon one of the front windows, tapping the glass with his fingertips. It was bulletproof.

He eyed the architecture of the house, assessing what it was made out of. It he had to guess, there was also bulletproof material within the wall panels. Although the cabin looked normal, it was anything but. It was designed to blend in, to not raise suspicion.

And then his eyes traveled to the bearskin rug, and something told him to check it out. As you were rifling around in the kitchen, he stepped over to the seating area and kicked at the rug with his foot. It seemed to be fastened to the floor. So he knelt down and pulled at each edge until one gave way, lifting up to reveal a hiding space beneath the floor.

He grabbed his small utility flashlight he kept on his belt and shined the light inside. This was the bunker he’d assumed he was taking you to. It was very clearly designed to withstand any sort of disaster. I hoped he wouldn’t have to utilize it.

“What’s that?” You came up behind him, peering over his shoulder.

“Bunker.” He slammed the door shut. With the rug overtop of it, it didn’t look out of place at all. Bob turned to you, his expression serious. “If anything happens, we go down there.”

You held his gaze, your own fearful. “Bobby…how bad is it?” You wanted to know the severity of the threat. You wanted to know if you’d be forced to hide in that bunker.

Bob stepped closer to you, allowing himself the physical connection he’d deprived you both of in his haste to get you here safely. His hand came up to cup your cheek. “Bad enough that your dad was spooked. Bad enough that Simpson thought we should bring you to the safe house.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, lifting your hand to rest it gently overtop of his own. “I’m tired of this,” you whispered.

“I know,” he whispered back. He wanted to assure you that he’d protect you. That you were safe with him. But the words felt so insignificant. Yes, he would protect you, but that didn’t change the fact that a threat had still been made to your life. You, the most precious soul he’d ever known. You, kind and giving and compassionate. You, the one who loved him. How could anyone target you?

You leaned in close, and his mind ceased its wandering. Your free hand was placed gently against his chest, over his heart. And then you spoke. “Do you think that maybe…we could pretend, just for a little bit, that life is normal? That we’re just two people living in their little cabin in the woods, who aren’t actually in danger of a terrorist trying to take their lives?”

Bob’s mouth curled into a halfhearted smile. “Yeah…yeah, we can do that, little love. Whatever you want.”

Little love. The endearing nickname always made your heart warm in your chest. You nestled yourself against him, lifting your head and seeking out his kiss. He gladly returned the affection, mouth fitting against yours like it was always meant to, lips meeting in a tender kiss.

For a fleeting moment, everything felt alright. There was no looming danger. No president’s daughter and secret service agent. It was just two people, very much in love, sharing an impassioned kiss in their living room.

And then you parted, and as Bob rested his forehead against yours, you said, “You hungry? I found a box of MREs stored away in the kitchen.”

He smiled, humming softly in amusement. “Mm, my favorite,” he teasingly replied.

Your hands now rested on his chest. “I’ll get them ready.”

You shared one more kiss before you slipped away to saunter over to the kitchen. As you did so, Bob grabbed your duffel bag and carried it to what he assumed was a bedroom. When he opened the door, his assumption was confirmed.

A double sized bed was positioned in the middle of the sparsely furnished room. There was a nightstand on one side of the bed and a dresser along the opposite wall, facing the bed. An empty closet was across the room.

Bob set your bag down on the bed, and he assumed the two of you would be sharing this bed. His heart yearned for it. It had been a while since the two of you had shared a bed and spent the night snuggled up close. He missed it so.

Although the situation that had brought you here was less than ideal, at least you would be able to spend time with each other, without having to sneak around.

With a soft sigh, Bob stepped out of the bedroom, pulling the door shut before he quickly made his way back outside, with intentions of doing a perimeter sweep to make sure the area was secure. Once he was satisfied, he made his way back to the house, stopping only to grab his own overnight bag that had been stashed in the trunk of the sedan.

Moments later, he was inside with you again, the door locked securely behind him.

In the meantime, you were at work in the kitchen, reading the directions on your MRE packet. When he entered the room, you looked up, and then motioned to the bin of pre-packaged food kits you had found.

“Take your pick. There’s macaroni in tomato sauce, chili, spaghetti, and some bean and cheese thing.”

He chose the macaroni in tomato sauce, assuming it would be the safest option. Together, you prepared your respective meals, and you couldn’t help but find it a little humorous that your first time cooking together consisted of making military grade survival meals.

“I haven’t eaten one of these in years,” Bob mused, as he activated the heating element. A memory flashed in his mind. A not so happy one. “Last time I had one was when my plane went down during a mission. Natasha was flying with me then. We were stuck in the woods for days.”

You frowned softly at his admission. “How did you make it back?”

“Some nice farmer saw us along the road and we were able to hitch a ride with him into the nearest town. We radioed for help.”

“Why didn’t search and rescue come for you?”

“Partly because we went down in enemy territory. And because our plane literally exploded into a million pieces. We were presumed dead.”

Your previously chipper mood was dampened a bit as you imagined him and Natasha, yet another trusted agent in your security detail, lost and potentially injured in unfamiliar territory. “Did you get hurt when the plane went down?” You asked.

He nodded. “Got some nasty cuts. Some burns, too. You know the scar on my side?”

You hummed in realization. You did know it. You’d run your fingers over the six inch long scar many times while laying in bed with him.

“That was shrapnel from the blow. Cut me pretty good. Nat stitched it up for me, actually. Kind of embarrassed to admit I passed out during it.”

You reached out, touching his arm gently. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. I can’t even imagine, Bobby. That must’ve been awful.”

He nodded. “But we got through it. Nat’s one determined gal. She told me she was gonna get me home safe. And she did. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be alive right now.”

Your hand moved from his arm, resting against his back, thumb stroking circles along his spine. Your touch grounded him. “Remind me to thank her.”

He smiled softly as he finished preparing his food. He was beyond grateful that the Fates had decided to spare him. Had they not, he never would have met you, the best thing to ever happen to him.

Joining the Secret Service had never been part of Bob’s plan. He’d never even considered it. But Agent Mitchell had recommended him to the president, and after Bob had fulfilled his commitment of time to the Navy, he’d moved over to The White House, where he became part of security.

In fact, the entirety of your personal security detail had been recommended to your father by Pete Mitchell. With you making more public appearances and doing charity work, it put you on the radar. Your father wanted the best security detail possible for you, and because he trusted Pete’s judgment, he brought them in to begin the interview process. In the end, all of them were hired.

But only one was the head of your detail. Only Bob was entrusted with every minute detail of your safety. Not because the others couldn’t be trusted, or because they were incapable. Far from it. It was his sharpness and his ability to assess threats quickly. It was his respectfulness and penchant for following the rules (or so everyone thought). Out of the group of agents assigned to you, Bob stood out above the rest.

In the words of your father, Seresin was too cocky, Bradshaw too aloof, and Trace too emotional. You strongly disagreed with his words. You didn’t like the assessments he’d made of each agent. You thought he was being unfair and harsh. Especially with Natasha. Calling her too emotional was crossing over into sexist territory, you felt. If anything, Bradley was the emotional one. But you didn’t argue with your dad. Whatever POTUS says, goes.

None of the supposed “downfalls” your father saw in each agent affected their ability to protect you. All of them put their lives on the line every single day to ensure your safety.

But in the end, they hadn’t been put solely in charge of your security team. Bob had. And now here you stood, in safe house in the middle of the Virginia wilderness, eating survival food and pretending everything was fine. Just you and him.

Strangely enough, you were grateful. Grateful that he was the one you were with. And maybe it was for selfish reasons, but you didn’t care. You just hated that your only opportunity to be alone with him as of late was because of the imminent danger posed to your life.

But you would cherish the time you were allotted.

That night, in the quietness of that little cabin in the woods, the two of you sat at the oak dining table adjacent to the kitchen, with your feet resting in Bob’s lap. You drank the electrolyte drink mixes that were provided in your MREs, pretending they were some sort of fancy alcoholic cocktail, if only for your sanity’s sake.

For the rest of the evening, you didn’t acknowledge the circumstances that had brought you here. Instead, you talked of anything and everything. It wasn’t often that you had a chance to have such meaningful conversations with one another. Your time together was usually short. Secret meetings under the cover of darkness. Stolen moments of passion in hotel rooms. Intimate embraces where no prying eyes could see.

But flashes of reality still shocked you like a splash of cold water to the face. Such as the fact that Bob’s gun was still strapped to his hip. Or the fact that he went around the house making sure all the blackout curtains were drawn, and double checking the lock system on the door.

You tried to ignore it. Focused on cleaning up your haphazard dinner instead. But there was still a feeling of unease in your gut. Bob seemed to notice your anxiety, ever observant, and he approached you as you wiped down the table with a dish cloth you’d found in one of the drawers. His arms encircled your waist, and you sighed, leaning back against him, letting your eyes flutter shut.

“Hey,” he whispered, nuzzling his face against the back of your neck. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

You turned around in his hold, placing your hands upon his chest. “I know. I just…I’m trying to pretend everything is fine but it’s hard when there’s a literal bunker beneath us, and you’re walking around with your gun on your hip, and checking the state of the art locking system on the door over there.”

Bob glanced down at the weapon in its holster. “Here,” he said. He stepped back, removing his belt, and taking the holster along with it. He took the gun and carried it into the bedroom, where he placed it on the singular nightstand beside the bed. Then he rejoined you in the main room.

“Is that better?” He asked.

“A little,” you replied with a nod, welcoming him into your arms again.

He dipped his head low, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. “I love you, sweet girl.”

Your chest warmed. “I love you too.”

A large hand lifted up, fingers stroking your cheek. “You want to play pretend? We’ll play pretend.” His arm then came down to wrap around your waist, palm pressed into the small of your back. “This is our homestead, right? And you…you are my pretty little wife.” His free hand tapped your nose with his fingers.

“Oh? I like the sound of that,” came your soft reply.

His arm tightened around you. “Mhm. And I just came in from a long day of workin’ the land. Looks like we’re gonna have a good harvest, too. Won’t go hungry this winter.”

Your mouth curved into a fond smile. His accent was coming through. Picked up from summers spent on his granddaddy’s ranch. “Take such good care of me,” you said. “My strong, handsome man.”

He kissed you again, this time more languidly. “Always gonna take care of my wife.”

That promise translated outside of this silly little roleplay, too. You knew he’d always look out for you. “What would I do without my Bobby?” You asked.

He gently bumped noses with you, enjoying the closeness. It made you a little dizzy. You hadn’t been in his big, strong arms like this in a while. You’d missed it more than you realized. The close proximity of your bodies had you growing breathless, and your fingers grasped at the fabric of his button down.

“I…can we…” You couldn’t get the words out. But he knew what you wanted.

“You need me, honey?”

You nodded, caught off guard when tears welled in your eyes. “Please,” you whimpered pitifully. It hit you hard, like a blow to the chest. You hadn’t expected the feeling to be so intense, but now you were leaning into him for support, afraid your knees would give way if you tried to stand on your own.

“I’ve got you. Let’s go to the bedroom, okay?”

With his arm secured around you, he led you to the room. There, he guided you to sit on the bed before he turned on the little beside lamp on the nightstand. It didn’t give off much light, but it did cast a soft, warm glow over the bed.

And then he was in front of you again, but this time, he was kneeling, placing his hands on your knees as he looked up at you. “If you want to stop at any time, you tell me, alright?”

You nodded.

“Words, lovey.”

“Yes sir.”

He wanted to be a little more careful with you in this moment. Not that he wasn’t careful with you all the time, but he had a feeling you needed a little more tenderness than usual. Having your life threatened was a harrowing experience. He wanted to give you the intimacy and closeness you needed. He wanted to be a comfort to you.

As he rose to his feet, a big, gentle hand cupped your cheek. You lifted your head, gazing up at him. His thumb lovingly stroked your bottom lip, and you instinctively opened your mouth, wrapping your lips around the digit.

He watched in awe as your eyes began to grow glassy, and your gaze softened. All it took was his thumb in your mouth to turn you pliant. He smiled fondly, his eyes twinkling.

And what beautiful eyes they were. You gazed up into them, so clear and blue, but somehow dark in the lowlight, as if the bright blue had turned brown. You could feel the tension leaving your body as you suckled on his thumb. The taste of his skin was familiar and soothing.

“Poor thing. Just needed to shut your brain off for a bit, huh?” He murmured.

“Mhm,” you hummed around his thumb.

“I’ve got you. Don’t have to do any thinking with me. I’ll do it all for you.”

You liked the sound of that. You could let go of the stressors. Your circumstances. Your position as daughter of the President of the United States. Your political commitments. All of it could be forgotten, if only for a little while.

So you gave yourself to him. To your Bobby. You let him take care of you, because he knew what was best at that moment in time.

“C’mere,” he said. He took a seat on the bed, his back leaning against the headboard. As you scrambled over to him, he caught you, pulling you into his lap so that you were straddling him. His hands rested at your hips. Your own fell to his broad shoulders. The muscles rippled beneath your touch.

With your body slotted against his like this, you felt so warm and secure. Like you were meant to fit together. In the warm glow of the lamp, and in the softness of the bed, it all felt so domestic. As if you truly were husband and wife, living in your little cabin in the woods.

And then your mind began to wander, and you considered what it might be like if he truly was your husband. If you were allowed to live out your relationship without fear of being found out.

You wanted that, you realized. You wanted it so badly. But you couldn’t have it. Not yet. So instead, you played pretend. You dove forward, connecting your lips with his, kissing him deeply, pouring all the passion you had into it. And he kissed you back with just as much fervor.

Your hands moved from his shoulders to rest upon the sides of his neck. Your fingers slipped through the hair at the nape of his neck, nails ever so lightly scraping at the skin, making him shiver against you and moan into your mouth.

You rotated your hips downward in the process, and he gasped, his grip tightening on your waist. So you moved your hips again. And again. Soon, you were rutting against him, searching out that delicious friction. The seam of your shorts caught against you in just the right place, and the stimulation had his cock hardening beneath you.

He let his head thunk back against the headboard, biting his lip and closing his eyes. “Oh, just like that, honey,” he encouraged, breathless.

“Feels so good,” you whined.

“I know. Been too long, hasn’t it?” he cooed, bringing you closer so your forehead was pressed to his.

“H-how long?” you wondered, shivering as he lifted his hips to meet your own.

He remembered. Of course he did. “Last month. When you visited that one university.”

Oh, yes. Now you remembered. You’d really gone an entire month without touching him? No wonder you ached so terribly inside. You needed him.

“Bobby,” you whimpered then.

“I know, baby. I know.”

He was kissing you again, except this time, he rotated you, gently easing you onto the bed so he could hover over you. Then he began the reverent undressing of your body. He pulled your shirt over your head, leaving a kiss against your clavicle as he easily rid you of your undergarments. Then came your shorts and panties, tossed aside carelessly.

This left you entirely bare to him, and oh, how naked you felt. But he distracted you from any trepidation you felt. He took your hands in his own, lifting them to his shirt, prompting you to unbutton it. Those big hands hovered over yours as you did, there to help if you were trembling too much to do it.

In no time, the shirt was unbuttoned, and he tossed it to the floor before he made quick work of removing his white undershirt. Immediately, your hands splayed across his chest. Well-defined because he worked his ass off staying fit. His job was not for the faint of heart or body. He had to stay on top of his game.

“If ya can stop ogling my chest for a minute, I’ll get my pants off,” he teased.

You looked up at him before turning your head away shyly. He couldn’t help but hum in gentle amusement. You were just the most precious thing.

Quickly, he shoved his pants and boxers down his legs, kicking them asunder, leaving you both naked as the day you were born. As soon as his body was slotted against yours, you sighed in deep relief. Finally.

His mouth was on yours again, and his arms were at either side of your head, effectively caging you in. He overwhelmed your every sense, and it was glorious. In such close proximity, you could smell his cologne, and that natural, heady scent that could only be described as him.

“Pretty girl,” he whispered in awe, his mouth trailing down your jaw, across your neck, over your collarbone. Reverence. Worship.

As he kissed your heated skin, he moved to slip his hand between your thighs. Deft fingers tenderly parted your delicate folds, prodding at your entrance. First one finger, slid in deep. Then two. You whined into his mouth as he crooked those fingers upward, intent on locating that spongey little spot that made you shiver.

It didn’t take him long. He knew your body so well. Knew exactly what to do to have you purring for him. You were so responsive to his touch as it was.

“Gotta open you up for me, lovey,” he soothed. “Been a while since you took all of me.”

Those fingers pumped in and out of you, and his thumb came up to swirl around your clit as he did so. You were oversensitive. Not only had you not been touched by him in over a month, but you hadn’t touched yourself, either. You’d hardly had any downtime, and when you did, you spent it resting. Now, you were so pent up that Bob’s gentle stimulation of your neglected pussy was already beginning to overwhelm you.

In the meantime, he continued to trail searing kisses across your skin. Over the softness of your breasts. Teeth gently tugging at your pebbled nipples. Tongue soothing the sting.

In the meantime, you grew wetter around his fingers, your body opening up to him, welcoming him in. And then he added a third finger, and you squealed, jolting against him. You felt his mouth curl into a smile against you.

Then he lifted his head to gaze down at the way your cunt stretched around those fingers. “Oh, look at this sweet little pussy. My fingers barely fit. I don’t know if it’ll be able to take my cock.”

He was teasing you. But in your hazy state, you took him seriously. “No! No, I can take it! Please, I need it!” You gasped.

This prompted him to place his thumb in your mouth again. “Shh, I know. I’m gonna give it to you, I promise.” A gentle kiss to your lips before he leaned back. He removed his fingers from you, and you watched as he used the slick of your arousal as lubricant for his cock, smearing it over the velvety skin. You whimpered at the sight.

You so desperately needed that cock inside you. Thick and heavy, with a blushed tip that was dripping with his own desire. You found yourself reaching for it, wrapping your fingers around him, longing to feel the heaviness in your hand.

He gasped softly as your grip tightened and your thumb brushed over that pretty pink head, gathering the wetness that had gathered at the slit. You found yourself salivating, suddenly wishing he was in your mouth, warm on your tongue. But at the same time, you wanted to be filled by him so badly. It made you ache.

Gently, he lifted your hand away, replacing it with his own. He slid the underside of his cock through your slick, and you both moaned lowly when the plush head caught at your clit. Again, he thrust his hips forward, teasing you. When he pulled back, he positioned himself at your entrance, slipping in only ever so slightly, enough to pull a desirous whine from you before he pulled back.

“D-don’t tease,” you squeaked out.

“I know. Just tryin’ to savor it. Might not get to do this again for a while.”

You pulled him down, kissing him deeply. “Don’t think about that right now. Just fuck me, Bobby. Please.”

“Uh-huh.” With his mouth open against your own, he finally inched his hips forward, moving so his arms were at either side of your head again, and his chest was pressed to yours. Forward, forward, forward, until…

“Oh!”

He was fully sheathed inside you, every last inch. It was the thickness that took your breath away. He felt so big, yet at the same time, it felt as if he was made to fit inside you in this way. You would never tire of the feeling of his body connected to yours.

Bob couldn’t help but glance down, marveling at the way you stretched around him. He allowed himself a moment to bask in the feeling of the snug warmth. He had missed it so much. Missed you so much. “I love you,” he said with conviction. It warmed you to your core.

“Love you too,” you sighed out blissfully, eyes fluttering shut as you wrapped your legs around his waist, and your arms around those broad shoulders of his.

His hand caressed your face as he began to move, nudging his hips into yours. He kept things slow to begin with, intending to build up to a glorious crescendo. All the while, he held you close, resting his weight upon your body, grounding you, surrounding you. He cherished it all. The feeling of your warmth, the beating of your heart. A reminder that you were safe, that you were alive, that you were here, with him.

His mouth found its way to yours again, trailing down further to lave his tongue against your pulse point. “You are everything to me,” he breathed against your feverish skin. You were his life, his love, his angel.

You couldn’t speak, for you were too overwhelmed. Your heart sang, and the true reason for being here in thise safe house seemed to fade into the background as white noise. Your Bobby was on the forefront, infiltrating every one of your senses, wrapping you up in his love and adoration. You never wanted it to end.

As he began to quicken his pace, you held onto him tightly, every inch of your bodies touching, warm and familiar, safe and secure. You let yourself be vulnerable, let him chip away at the armor you always protected herself with. Oh, how good it felt to let him be your protector. He encased you in his warmth, and that warmth began to radiate throughout your body, thrumming deep within your belly. He kissed yu repeatedly, lips ever brushing against yours, swallowing your precious whimpers and moans, holding onto those sounds, locking them away in his memory.

In the back of his mind, he partly wondered if this would be the last time you were able to make love to each other. What if he slipped up and was dismissed from his duties, effectively barring him from ever being with you again? He hated that his mind went to such a morbid place, but it was hard to ignore.

But then you were drawing him in again with those soft sounds, sighing out his name, and your sweet pussy was fluttering around him, and he was brought back to the present moment. How could he let himself be anywhere else but here, with you in his arms? How could he let himself be distracted when the love of his life sighed and shivered in pleasure beneath him? Because of him?

“Feel so good,” you squeaked. Your eyes were closed, your brow furrowed in utter bliss. You looked rather adorable this way. He was so in love.

You were so wet, and he realized that you were quickly growing wetter by the minute. He could feel you dripping down against his heavy balls, and onto the bed covers below, and it only urged him to change his pace. You tightened your legs around his waist, inviting him deeper inside. As he thrust particularly deeply into you, you cried out softly. He’d bumped into that wonderful spot within you, sending you tightening around him, arousal slicking down the base of his cock.

“Oh, right there!” You exclaimed, fingernails pressing crescent shapes into the skin of his back. He ducked a hand between you then, stimulating your sensitive little clit in such a way that your eyes rolled back, mouth falling open. The way you clenched around him again had him growling lowly, the heat of impending release already beginning to warm in his pelvis. How was he already so close? And then he remembered how long it had been since he’d had you like this, and it made sense.

He applied more pressure with his fingers, driving his hips forward with more force. He was hit with a sudden wave of desperation, wanting, needing you to come before he did. He’d stave off his own pleasure for as long as possible if it meant making you feel good. Beneath him, you were on fire, arousal rushing through your very being like raw electricity, consuming every part of you in its wake. And you let yourself be swallowed up in the feeling, suddenly overcome with intense emotion as tears began sliding down your cheeks.

Bob cradled you against his chest, though he didn’t slow down. You needed him to keep going, and he wasn’t going to stop until you fell apart. And it was so close you could taste it, building and building and building. A vibration that began in your core, a peak that you were hurtling towards but couldn’t quite reach yet. It was a height that only your lover could bring you to.

Sweet, tender love making turned into something so much more primal. His chest heaved against yours, and he growled deeply, teeth nipping at your bottom lip as he kissed you. Warmth blossomed between you both, growing into a wild flame. Your bodies fell into a desperate push and pull, faster and harder and deeper, chasing the pleasure high that you knew was inevitable.

He could feel you tighten around him like a vice, and he knew you were close. He let his forehead rest against yours, though he never stopped his movements. “You’re close, I can feel it,” he spoke in a broken whisper.

“I-I am,” you whimpered pathetically, clinging to him tightly.

“Then come for me, my love. Just let go.”

He continued to work you over, carrying you toward that edge. You trembled fiercely, breathing labored, growing even more so. Pleasure began to fizz through you like a firework brought to life, or a pack of Pop Rocks sprinkled on the tongue. Starting at your core and bubbling all the way to your fingers and toes.

Your body went taut against his as the first waves of it began to hit you. Almost there, almost there, almost there. And then, without warning, it hit you. Washing over you like an enormous wave, intense as could be. Seconds later, you came with a wail, convulsing beneath him as the fire of your orgasm ravaged you, surging through the entirety of your being. You cried out his name, and he was there, holding you in his arms as he watched you come apart, losing yourself because of him.

And as you came down, you sobbed. You buried your face against his chest, crying openly, still wrapped tightly around him. And he let you cry, keeping you close. But he also needed to find his own release, you realized. Even in your state of emotion, she pulled back a little, looking into his face. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were blown, but there was still a tenderness in his gaze. He wouldn’t pressure you for more if you weren’t ready to move on yet.

“P-please, Bobby. Wan’ you to come in me.”

How could he ever say no when you asked so sweetly?

Satisfied with your plea, he began moving again, finding the rhythm that he needed to bring himself to his end. “Yeah? Want me to fill you up, lovey?” He breathlessly spoke.

Glassy eyed, you nodded, bottom lip quivering. “Need it so bad,” you begged.

His face contorted into a look of beautiful euphoria. His jaw went slack, his eyes fell shut, and he let his head fall to the crook of your neck as the climax began to overwhelm him entirely. It washed over him with great force, rendering him absolutely boneless as he keened, your name falling from his lips in a soft whimper. Beneath him, you relished in the feeling of his essence seeping into you, even as tears continued to stain your cheeks.

His hips stuttered a few more times against yours as he made sure to fill you with everything he had to give. And as he came down, trying to catch his breath, you made no move to part from one another.

There you lay, holding each other, basking in the afterglow as the weight of his body settled atop yours. When your tears ceased, Bob very carefully slid out of you, soothing your mewl of protest with an open-mouthed kiss. As he moved to rest upon his back, he tucked you into his side, and you rested your head on his chest, right over his still racing heart.

Gentle fingers traced circles along your arm. You hadn’t realized that you’d zoned out a little, still drunk off pleasure, until his touch brought it back down to earth.

You placed your hand against his chest, eyeing the rise and fall of each breath he took. For a while, neither of you said anything. And when the silence finally did break, it was Bob who broke it.

“Need to get you cleaned up, lovey. Can’t let you fall asleep like this.”

Despite your murmur of protest, he gathered you into his arms and carried you out of the bedroom and into the bathroom just a few feet away.

You were so sleepy, it seemed that the events of the day were finally catching up with you, paired with the romp in the sheets you’d just gone on with Bob. You were in a haze as he tenderly cleaned you up and urged you to use the restroom.

“I’ve got you,” his low, comforting voice assured you. You could allow yourself to remain in that hazy state, because you knew he would take care of you. He always did.

He led you back to the bedroom, where he helped you change into the pajamas you had brought. Once you were taken care of, he tucked you into bed and kissed you on the forehead before he proceeded to ready himself for bed. A shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Easy, in case he needed to jump out of bed and tend to a threat in the middle of the night.

Then he slipped into bed beside you, and you immediately snuggled into him, content to be in his arms, enjoying his warmth. You would cherish every last moment you had with him. Safe and secure, your head on his chest, listening to the steady thumping of his heart. Oh, how you loved him.

You were lulled into a deep, comforting slumber. In fact, it was the best sleep you’d gotten in weeks. Just his presence alone gave you rest.

But while you slept peacefully, Bob remained awake. He couldn’t sleep, not when he had to watch over you. He was tempted to get up and do a perimeter sweep outside, just to make sure everything was safe. But you were sleeping so peacefully in his arms that he didn’t want to disturb you.

At some point during the night, he did drift off into a light slumber, still partially alert, always ready to address danger, should it come knocking on the door.

And, unfortunately, it did.

At around 0400 hours, Bob was alerted to movement outside. It wasn’t loud. But there was a strange rustling in the woods, and the snapping of twigs. Instantly, his eyes were open, and he held his breath, hoping he’d just dreamt the sounds. But then he heard it again, and his heart seized in his chest.

Without hesitation, he eased you out of his arms, and you remained sleeping while he slipped out of bed, grabbing his gun from the nightstand and rushing to put his earpiece back in his ear so he could communicate with White House security if need be.

There were no windows in the bedroom, so he quickly and quietly scrambled to the front of the house, where he stopped at the window and discreetly lifted the edge of the curtain to peer outside. Sure enough, he saw two figures dressed in black gear approaching from the tree line.

And that’s when he realized one of them was already at the door, working on the security keypad. Bob knew, in that moment, that he should have trusted his gut feeling from the beginning. Where the hell had Agent Simpson sent the two of you? Because there was no way this was a safe house if it was this easy to get into.

But there was no time to debate the security of the house. Danger was right on the doorstep, and his first priority was protecting you. So he sprang into action, rushing back to the bedroom where you slept peacefully.

“Safe house is compromised,” he reported into his mic, just before he leaned down to shake you awake.

“Copy. Get into the bunker. Sending backup now,” Simpson’s voice crackled to life in his ear.

Bob didn’t reply. He was too focused on waking you. “Hey, hey, need you to wake up for me, honey.” He shook you vigorously until you stirred from your slumber.

You stared up at him in confusion, your eyes bleary. “Bobby? Wha-?”

“No time. Get up, we need to get under the house now. They found us.”

That woke you up. Your eyes widened, and you sat upright, throwing the covers from your body as you swung your legs over the side of the bed. “How?!”

“I don’t know! Just come with me!” He yanked you to your feet, hands tight on your arms, catching you when you stumbled.

Adrenaline coursed through you, wiping away the sleep-induced fog that had been cast over your brain. Bob’s remained closed firmly around your wrist and he pulled you after him out of the bedroom, intending to take you down into the bunker. But in a split second, he stopped abruptly, and you ran into his back with a surprised gasp.

He could only just catch sight of the door coming open. There was no time to make it to the trap door that would lead you to safety beneath the house. Going for it would result in the two of you being spotted and killed instantly. He had a split second to make a decision. This was life or death.

He whirled around, and in the darkness, you could see the wildness in his eyes, and it sent an icy shock of terror through you. Without a word, he clamped his hand over your mouth, silencing you before he pushed you back toward the bedroom.

Your heart pounded against your chest, your entire body trembling with fear as he released you and turned to shut the bedroom door silently. Thank God there was a lock on it, which he promptly turned, careful to do it silently. Then he whirled back around to face you. “Get under the bed. No matter what happens, you do not come out unless I tell you to.” His voice was so low it was barely audible, but you heard every word. And then, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, your eyes filled with tears. You didn’t hesitate to follow his instructions, sinking to your knees and maneuvering your body underneath the bed. Bob yanked the covers down so they were hanging from the edge of the mattress, effectively obscuring you from view. It was only a temporary solution, but it would do.

Then, his hand closed around the cool metal of his gun, which he pulled from his waistband and positioned himself a few feet away from the door, weapon drawn, hands steady as he flipped the safety off. He could hear Simpson’s voice in his earpiece, asking for confirmation that the two of you had made it down into the bunker. But Bob couldn’t answer. Silence was what was going to keep you alive at the moment.

He placed his finger against the trigger, ready to pull it at any second. Whoever was on the other side of the door was quiet, but he could still hear them. Creeping closer and closer, inch by inch. And then, the doorknob rattled, and Bob felt his breath catch in his throat.

You pressed your own hand over your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut. Bob’s eyes never left that door. He counted down in his head. Five. The silence was broken as the person threw their weight against the door. Four. Again, their body thudded against the door. Three. Two steps backward. Two. Bob realized what was about to happen. One. He threw his body to the side just as the sound of a gunshot rang through the house. Wood splintered. Smoke curled through the air.

Bob had moved aside just in time. A second too late and he would be suffering from a gunshot wound. But just as quickly as he moved, his gun was in the air again, held steadily in front of him. As soon as he had the assailant in his sights, he fired.

Beneath the bed, your hands came up to your ears, protecting them from the awful sound. You couldn’t see around the quilt obscuring your vision. You prayed silently that Bob was unharmed. And he was. He’d just put one perpetrator down. You’d heard the thud of the body hitting the floor.

But he had no idea how many more there were.

He would soon find out.

Seconds later, more footsteps. Bob fired. But the second man was expecting it, and kept his body partially hidden by the doorway as he lifted his rifle and aimed it at Bob. The secret service agent ducked quickly, firing his own weapon in retaliation.

He put up a good fight. Really, he did. Bob had always been seen as a pacifist, and by nature, he was. But that didn’t mean he shied away from a fight. And when he did have to utilize physical force, there was a calculated tenacity with which he fought. He was a worthy opponent.

He disarmed the second man quickly. Grazed his cheek with a bullet and used that split-second distraction to dive for the gun that belonged to the dead man on the floor. But then, a voice stopped him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Bob looked up to find three men pointing rifles at his head. He was cornered.

“Drop the fuckin’ weapon.”

He did. He was severely outnumbered. If he tried anything, he’d be shot dead on the spot. That would leave you entirely vulnerable and alone.

The one in the middle stepped forward. He was tall. Dark hair. Beard. couldn’t have been much older than Bob himself. Dark eyes stared murderously at the agent kneeling on the ground. He never lowered his rifle.

“We’re just here for the girl. Tell us where she is.”

“She’s not here,” Bob lied through his teeth.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. We staked you out. We know you brought her here. Now where is she, huh?” Then, he called out into the room in a singsong voice that made your skin crawl, “come out, come out wherever you are!”

“She’s not going to come out, because she’s not here!”

The stranger rolled his eyes. “Alright, then you won’t mind if I fire a couple of precautionary shots, right? Just to make doubly sure?” He aimed his gun at the bed you were currently stowed beneath.

Bob’s stomach dropped. “Hey, there’s no reason to waste ammunition on–”

“Ah! So she is here!”

And just like that, it all fell apart.

One of the assailants forced Bob into a prone position on the floor, his gun pressed to the back of his head. He reached down and ripped Bob’s earpiece out of his ear, tossing it to the hardwood floor and stomping on it, effectively cutting off any and all communication with The White House. And then, Bob watched helplessly as you were dragged from beneath the bed, kicking and screaming.

And all he could think, was that he’d failed you.

“Bobby!” You wailed.

“Hey! What is it that you want, huh?! Money?! We’ll give it to you, I can make a call to Washington, get it wired to–”

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” the man above him snarled, smacking him square in the back of the head with the butt of his rifle. Bob’s vision went white as searing pain radiated through his skull.

“It’s not about money,” said the one who had wrestled you from beneath the bed. “It’s about sending a message to her daddy.”

You whimpered in fright as he grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks hard. His expression was full of hatred. It chilled you to your very core. “We’ll make him wish he’d never taken office.”

“Let her go!” Bob cried desperately from the floor, though he was in no position to be making demands.

“No, I don’t think we will.” The man began to haul you out of the room, his hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your screams. He glanced at the one standing over Bob. “Make sure he can’t follow us.”

As you were dragged into the hall, you heard the sound of a single shot ring out, and you sobbed behind the hand pressed to your mouth. No!

But Bob wasn’t dead. He was very much alive, his teeth clenched so hard he was sure he would break them, letting out a muffled, tormented scream behind them. White hot pain traveled up his thigh, and with it, a violent sense of nausea overwhelmed him. His assailant had shot him in the leg.

And then he was left alone in that bedroom, helpless to do anything as you were carried away, putting up a fight despite being overpowered. Crying out in absolute agony, Bob fought to drag himself upright, though his head spun and his leg throbbed wickedly. He had to stop them. Had to get to you.

It took every ounce of strength in his being to pull himself upright, but by that time, it was too late. They had taken you outside. He’d never reach you in time. After everything he had done to keep you safe, he had lost you in the end. He would never forgive himself as long as he lived.

But then, hope.

All of the sudden, the sound of a helicopter approaching could be heart, and not long after, blinding white light shone through the front door. Moments later, a magnified voice called out, “Homeland Security! We have you surrounded!”

What happened next was a blur. There was shouting. So much shouting. Outside, you were blinded by the lights, reaching your hands up to shield your eyes. The sounds around you were deafening. Someone fired a shot. Then another. Hands grabbed at you. You had no idea who they belonged to. But they pulled you away from the men who had taken you, guiding you to the sidelines, away from the danger.

But you didn’t want to go to the sidelines. You wanted to run back to your Bobby. “Let go! I need to see if Bobby’s alright!”

“Miss, we can send someone to check on him, right now I need you to—”

“No! They shot him! I have to know that he’s okay!”

You argued back and forth for a moment before you got the drop on the agent trying to restrain you. You threw your weight downwards and she released you out of surprise. You didn’t feel bad when you elbowed your way past her. You probably should have, because after all, she was just trying to do her job. But nothing else mattered to you in that moment than knowing Bob’s fate. If he was dying, you needed to be by his side to say goodbye. You weren’t about to miss your last chance to be with him.

So you made a dash for the house, ducking back inside, frantic.

“Bobby!” You cried out, scrambling toward the bedroom. Sickening dread coursed through you. What were you about to walk in on? Would you find the love of your life dead on the ground?

But then, you heard it. “I-in here!”

As soon as you burst into the room, you saw him. He’d tried to stand, but had crumpled to the ground in severe pain, and was now leaning back against the side of the bed, injured leg stretched out in front of him.

“Oh dear God.” You rushed to his aid, dropping to your knees beside him. “I’m here! I’m right here!”

His pant leg was soaked with crimson, and he’d placed his hand over the wound, in effort to slow the bleeding. “I-I’m okay,” he assured you, gazing into your frightened face. “Can you get my belt for me? It’s on the floor on the other side of the bed.” It sounded as if it took great labor for him to get the words out.

You didn’t hesitate. You jumped up and ran around to the other side of the bed, grabbing his belt. As soon as you handed it to him, he got to work tightening it around his thigh as a makeshift tourniquet.

Voices could be heard out in the main room of the cabin. You knew that you would soon be separated. It sent a terrible wave of dread through you, and you reached for Bob.

“Bobby,” you tearfully spoke.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he assured you, his tourniquet finished. His clean hand came up to cup your cheek. “You’ll be in good hands. I’ll see you again real soon.”

“But I don’t—”

“Honey, listen to me. Need you to be my brave girl, okay? I can’t go with you. They’re gonna take me to the hospital. And after that there’s a whole protocol I have to go through. But those agents out there, they’ll get you to safety. I promise you.”

Weeping, you wrapped your arms around his neck once more before you pulled back, just as none other than Agent Simpson walked into the room, his gun drawn.

Bob protectively placed an arm in front of you. “It’s all clear!” He called out. The assailant on the floor a few feet away from you both had long since been dead and did not pose a threat. Simpson still turned him over with his foot just to make absolutely certain that he was dead.

Beau approached you, kneeling so that he was eye level with you. His expression was neutral, but there was sympathy in his eyes. “I need you to come with me. I’ll see to it that you get back home safely. The threat to your life has been neutralized.”

“Agent Simpson, he’s been shot,” you whimpered, motioning to Bob.

“I see it. I’ve got a medic chopper on the way. We’ll transport him to the hospital. Right now, you’ve got two parents who are worried sick about you. Let’s get you back to them.”

“But—”

“Go with him,” Bob gently coaxed. “There’s nothing else you can do for me here. I’ll be fine.”

You gazed into his face, tears blurring your vision. “O-okay,” you whispered.

You wanted so badly to kiss him goodbye. But even now, you were hyper aware of Simpson’s presence and you knew you couldn’t openly show romantic affection to Bob in front of him.

So you allowed Agent Simpson to escort you from the room. You cast one more glance over your shoulder at your injured lover, before you finally left him behind. It felt like your heart was being torn in two. You longed to stay by his side, to board that medical helicopter with him and wait at the hospital while they tended to his injury.

But you supposed you did have one thing to be grateful for. At least he wasn’t dead.

As you were led outside, the early morning light was just beginning to peek over the horizon. It illuminated the carnage that had taken place. You gasped as you realized that the three remaining men who had tried to take you were dead. But there were others. Others you hadn’t seen. They were in custody, ready to be taken in for questioning. In one night, Homeland Security had succeeded in taking down a homegrown terrorist organization.

But that begged the question: why on earth had they been after you? It didn’t matter, because no one would answer your question, anyway.

You were led to a waiting car, where you realized Bradley Bradshaw and Natasha Trace were waiting for you. After what you had been through, you were relieved to see them.

“Hey kid,” Bradley greeted you.

“I sure am glad to see you,” you breathed.

“We’re glad to see you, too,” Natasha replied.

Bradley opened the door, and Nat slid into the seat first before you took your place in the middle, while he brought up the rear and closed the door behind him.

Javy Machado, who was driving, glanced back at you. “Good to see you safe and sound,” he said with a small smile.

You didn’t feel safe and sound. You felt harrowed and anxious.

The entire drive to The White House, you didn’t say a word. You stared out the window and fought to hold back your tears. What had gone wrong? How had those men found you? It seemed too easy. As if you and Bob had been nothing more than sitting ducks.

You were fortunate that all he had sustained was a shot to the leg. And you were even more fortunate that you had not been physically harmed. You were more emotionally scarred than anything. You weren’t sure how long it would take you to recover, but you knew you needed time. And most of all, you needed Bob.

But that was out of the question.

Instead, you had to hold your head high as you climbed out of the car once you had arrived at The White House. Waiting for you were Jake, Reuben, and Mickey. They reported your safe arrival through their mics, and then carefully led you into the building.

“Glad you’re home safe,” Jake softly told you.

You didn’t say a word. You couldn’t muster one. You were already steeling yourself for being reunited with your parents. You knew your mother would be teetering toward hysterics, and your father would likely be stoic, as he often was. You loved them, but you were overwhelmed.

Your mind was elsewhere, longing for your Bobby.

Meanwhile, he was just arriving at the hospital, where a team of medical personnel had already been warned of his arrival. He was a little delirious from the blood loss and the pain, but he could hear the terms they were throwing back and forth.

They were going to operate immediately.

“Agent Floyd?” A woman’s voice filled his ears. She was strawberry blonde, with kind blue eyes that reminded him of his mother’s. “I’m Doctor Vitarella. We’re gonna get this bullet outta you as fast as we can, alright?”

He mumbled something in reply, but his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. Then an oxygen mask was placed over his face, and he found himself slipping into a dark and dreamless slumber. The first thing he noticed when he woke a few hours later was the cast.

As consciousness washed over him, he gazed down at it, stretching from his foot to the top of his thigh. Still groggy, he glanced around the room, and saw a nurse walking into the room with a clipboard in hand. She looked up and realized that he was awake.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr. Floyd,” she said with a smile. “I’ll go get the doctor. She’ll want to talk to you.”

She scurried away before he could say anything. About five minutes later, the woman he vaguely remembered as Doctor Vitarella walked into the room. “You, sir, gave me a run for my money in the operating room,” she said.

Bob looked at her confusedly, still not fully out of his anesthesia-induced haze.

“When the bullet entered your leg, it fractured your femur. I inserted a rod into your leg to provide solid support to the bone. But you should know that the second it came in contact with the bone, the bullet broke into a bunch of tiny little pieces. My team and I did the best that we could, but I must inform you that there are still leftover fragments in your leg. I could not get those out without causing more damage.”

As he mulled over her words, Bob only had one question. “Will I be able to use my leg again?”

“With proper physical therapy, yes. But you’ll likely live with lasting pain. I wish I had a better prognosis for you, but what matters is that we stopped the bleeding and set the bone.”

He nodded solemnly. There were still bullet fragments in his body. A constant reminder of what he had been through. He felt as if he hadn’t let it fully sink in yet. Everything had been such a blur. Being carried on a stretcher out of the safe house because he couldn’t walk. Being placed into a helicopter and then rushed into the hospital.

And now here he was, on his back in a hospital bed, his leg aching something fierce. No, not aching. Throbbing. As the fog began to clear from his brain, the pain set in, and he groaned softly. His head was pounding. His leg hurt enough to prompt him to clench his teeth. “Could I get some, uh, pain meds?” He asked.

“I’ll have the nurse bring you some.”

A while later, he had been given his medicine, but it just barely took the edge off the pain. There was no distraction from it. He didn’t want to watch whatever mindless show that was playing on the television. He didn’t have his phone to scroll through. He had nothing. The only thing that made it even slightly bearable was the thought of you.

He wondered how you were faring. He wondered if you even knew of his condition. Had anyone updated you? He imagined that you were demanding to know how he was.

And you were. You had informed Agent Simpson yourself that you wanted a report of Bob’s health. You had to know that he was okay. Thankfully, as soon as Beau knew something, he called you right away.

“He’s gonna be okay, kid,” he said, “bullet fractured his femur, and they put him in a cast. But he’s gonna be okay.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, thanked Beau for the update, and hung up the phone. Seconds later, you burst into tears. Your Bobby was going to be okay.

But his worries were far from over.

He was given a couple days to rest, but on his third day in the hospital, Agent Simpson walked through the door of his hospital room, and he knew it had begun.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, making courteous small talk.

“Like hell,” Bob muttered in reply.

Beau nodded. “Sorry to hear that.” And then, he brandished a folder from a briefcase. “I hate to jump right into business, but…I have no other choice.” He pulled up a chair and sat at Bob’s bedside. “There are a few things I need to clear up.”

“Go ahead.”

“First and foremost, why did you not utilize the bunker beneath the house? The two of you were sitting ducks where you were.”

Bob stared at his superior. “I tried. But they were in the house before I could get her there. So I hid her under the bed.”

“And why were you not aware of the threat before then? Did you not do a thorough enough perimeter sweep?”

His tone was slightly accusatory. At least, Bob took it as such. His eyes narrowed. “No disrespect, sir, but what the hell kind of safe house was that? They never should have been able to breach it that easily.” He paused for a beat, awaiting an explanation.

“I think you might already know the answer to that, agent.”

“It wasn’t a safe house at all, was it?”

Beau sighed, shaking his head. “No, it wasn’t.”

Now Bob was angry. “Y’know, my gut told me that something wasn’t right, and I just brushed it off. But I should’ve listened. You used her as bait, didn’t you? And I went right along with it like a fool.”

“Floyd, this was a tricky situation we were dealing with here. We’ve been tracking this group for months. Our only chance at luring them out was to use her as a decoy. By doing that, we in turn saved her life.”

“How is that any better?! You can’t just use someone as live bait!”

“I didn’t like doing it either, in fact it was my absolute last resort. But it worked, didn’t it? President’s daughter is safe and sound. Terrorist group has been disbanded. We have the few remaining ones in custody. It’s over. The threat to her life and our government has been neutralized.”

“And what if it didn’t work? What if she’d been killed?”

“But she wasn’t. There’s no use thinking about the what ifs. What’s done is done.”

“Does she know she was used as bait?”

Simpson shook his head, his gaze hard. “No. And it’s going to stay that way.”

Several moments of silence passed. Bob processed what he’d just been told. This entire time, he had tried so hard to keep you safe. Tried so hard to keep the danger away. And yet, the danger had still found you, all because the very administration he worked for had led them right to you.

A sick feeling churned in his gut. He felt dirty. He hadn’t been protecting you at all. He’d been offering you up to the very men who were after you, and he didn’t even know it.

“What did the president think about his daughter being used to lure her potential killers in?” His tone was bitter. He couldn’t help it.

“He was in agreement that it was the most effective way of eliminating the threat.”

“So I was the only one who wasn’t clued in to this plan?”

The agent looked him dead in the eyes and said, “Yes, because just from my own personal assessments and observations of you as an agent, I knew you wouldn’t go along with it otherwise. And she needed to be kept entirely in the dark. It was better that way.”

Bob’s head was spinning. “So really I was just used as a pawn?”

“You have to understand that this was a matter of national security. And sometimes you have to play dirty for the sake of the greater good.” He firmly believed that this had been the most effective course of action.

“I…I’m gonna need a minute to sit with this,” Bob continued.

“You don’t have a minute, Bob. I’m going to need you to fill out a report about what happened. You do not say one word about what I just shared with you. Just report what you saw, how you reacted, and nothing more or less.”

“So you want me to lie.”

“Some things are meant to be confidential. This is one of those things. Just report what you witnessed, agent. I’ll handle the rest.” He placed the folder, marked CONFIDENTIAL, onto Bob’s lap. Then he clicked a pen and set it on top.

Bob stared at it. Could he really do this? His superior expected him to. The president expected him to. But his mind wandered to you, and the senseless trauma you had endured because of it. In his heart, he knew that if Agent Mitchell was still in charge, this situation would have been handled differently. He would have done everything in his power to ensure you were not used as bait.

But Pete Mitchell’s days in The White House were over. Bob had no choice but to follow the new leadership put in place. So he went along with what was being asked of him, even though it went against everything he stood for, everything he believed.

He penned a lie on that report. Described what had happened, as if he had no idea about the plot to use you to lure your attackers straight to you. He dotted every i and crossed every t. And when he was done, he shoved the file back into Beau Simpson’s hands.

“You got what you came for. Now get out.” Bob didn’t care that he was speaking disrespectfully to a superior. It didn’t matter anymore.

Simpson left without a word. And Bob was alone again.

That interaction changed everything for Bob. It made him question his very morals. Could he really allow himself to be part of an administration that purposely put the very members it was supposed to be protecting in harm’s way? This left him with much to consider. He had a decision to make.

He finalized that decision the day you came to visit him.

Escorted by Bradley, Jake, and Natasha, who all respectfully waited outside the room once they brought you to it, you came through the door, so eager to see the man you loved. You shut the door behind you, allowing you both some privacy.

As you took in his form, tears sprang to your eyes. His left leg was in a full cast. There was a bandage around his head from the injury he’d sustained from being hit in the head with a gun. But what mattered was that he was alive, and he was going to be okay.

“Oh, Bobby,” you whispered as you approached him, unable to keep the tears from sliding down your cheeks.

He mustered a smile. “Hey there, sweet girl.”

You leaned down, oh so carefully wrapping your arms around him in a hug. “I’m so sorry.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry about. I’m okay.”

You pulled back, looking into his face before you lovingly stroked his cheek. He let his eyes flutter shut, relishing in your touch, so comforting and familiar. It distracted him from his pain and made him feel less alone.

“They told me the bullet fractured your femur?” You finally found your voice a few moments later. As you spoke, you took a seat on the edge of the bed. Bob’s hand lifted to rest in your lap, and you placed your own hands over top of it.

“Yeah. They put a pin in me. Got a bionic leg now,” he teased. But then, he grew serious. “When the bullet hit my bone, it broke into a bunch of little fragments. They took out most of them, but I’ve still got some floating around in there.”

You frowned, wiping at your tear dampened cheeks with the back of your hand. “How does that work? Will they ever be able to get them out?”

“The doc told me she couldn’t. Said it would cause more damage if she tried. So I’ll just have them inside me forever.”

Your heart broke for him. “I’m sorry they did this to you. All because you were trying to protect me.”

“Hey,” he interjected, hand moving to tip your chin up. “Don’t you ever think of blaming yourself. I’d do it again a million times over as long as it meant that you were safe. You’re what matters most to me in this world. I don’t want to live in one without you in it.”

“And I don’t want to live in one without you in it, either,” came your reply.

His fingers wiped away your tears. There was so much he longed to say. He wanted so badly to tell you the truth. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. What good would it do? It would only bring more grief upon your shoulders. He didn’t want to cause you anymore pain than you’d already been through.

But, with his next words, he ended up hurting you anyway.

“I need to tell you something.”

His tone gave you pause. He was serious. “What is it?” You cautiously asked.

“I…I’ve decided to step down from my job.”

You stared at him. “What?”

He sighed softly. “This injury’s going to have me out for months. And honestly, by the time it does heal, I just have this feeling that it won’t ever be the same again. I won’t be as effective at my job as I was before. So I’m making the decision to resign.”

But you were shaking your head, a fresh wave of tears filling your eyes. “Bobby, no. You can’t leave. I need you.”

“Sweetheart, my mind is made up.”

“Why? Because I know this isn’t just because of your leg. What happened? Did my dad threaten you?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Then what?”

He sighed, shaking his head. How could he word it in a way that wouldn’t expose what he’d just sworn to keep secret? “I…I was asked to do something that goes against everything I believe. And I just can’t remain with this administration while knowing I was asked to do it.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “What—”

“That’s all I can tell you. I’m sorry.”

“Then what? You’re just going to leave? What does that mean for us?”

“We’ll figure it out. I know we will.”

You paused for a moment, looking down at your intertwined hands. More tears welled in your eyes. “I don’t want you to leave,” you whimpered. “You’re the one I feel safest with. I-I know everyone else is just as capable of looking after me but I want you, Bobby.”

It broke his heart to do this to you. And it filled him with uncertainty, too. He wasn’t sure what this would mean for your relationship. But he knew he couldn’t keep going on in secret. And he couldn’t continue to serve an administration that could potentially put you in danger again in the name of national security.

“I don’t want to leave, either. But I have to.”

You squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m being selfish. You should be allowed to make this decision without me causing a fuss about it. Do what you feel is best. I’ll support you no matter what.”

He lovingly stroked your cheek. “That means the world to me, honey. I’m sorry to break the news to you like this, after everything you went through. But I just wanted you to know before anyone else. I haven’t even told your dad or Agent Simpson yet.”

“Well, thank you for telling me. But I don’t know what I’m gonna do with myself, not seeing you everyday. God, I’m going to miss you so much, Bobby.” Your voice wavered. You were barely holding it together.

“Hey, c’mere.” He pulled you in, wrapping his arms around you, letting you rest your head on his chest, over his heart. “We’re gonna be okay, you and me. We’ll figure it out. Somehow, some way.” He kissed the top of your head.

You hoped he was right.

After that initial visit to the hospital, you tried to visit him as often as possible. Your security team was more than happy to tag along each day, because they loved Bob, too. And you cherished those quiet moments in that hospital room, without the eyes of the world on you.

Outside of that hospital, you had to face the public. Had to deliver statements about what happened that night in the safe house. Had to assure the American people that you were just fine, that the brave United States Secret Service and Homeland Security agents did their jobs well. Because of them, an entire domestic terrorist organization had been quashed. In America’s eyes, it was a great victory.

But you couldn’t help but feel like a spectacle. The girl who’d survived a harrowing attack on her life. You were made to relive that night over and over and over again. And finally, in the end, you’d had enough. In the following weeks, you came to terms with a lot of personal things.

Namely, you came to terms with wanting to separate yourself from your family’s administration. You would never be able to erase the fact that you were the president’s daughter. And your life would never be normal. You would need a security detail for the rest of your life. But you were done living within the confines of The White House.

The only time you had ever been away from it was when you were at college. After graduation, you came back to work as part of your father’s administration. But for your own sanity, you knew you needed to step down and find your own path.

So you told your parents as much. You informed them that your mind was made up, that you were going to buy a home for yourself and live your life separate from them. You no longer wanted a foot in the door of politics. It was time to pursue your true passions.

And that was just what you did.

You bought a house deep in Wyoming, of all places. A nice plot of land, spacious enough for owning horses or cows, and for planting a nice sized garden. It was quiet and secluded and the perfect respite after spending the last six years in The White House.

In the time leading up to your move, Bob was in the throes of physical therapy. His leg was healing well, and he was working hard to regain his strength. During those months, the two of you decided that it would be best to distance yourselves from one another, only because you did not want to raise suspicions about your relationship. You attending each one of his physical therapy sessions came across as suspicious, in your mind.

So you allowed him to focus on getting better, while you focused on starting your new life. You missed him so deeply, but your separation was only temporary. You planned to meet again, as soon as he was ready to travel, and you were situated in your new home. You also wanted the media attention on your safe house to die down.

Eventually, it did, and the world moved on to something else to panic about.

But you? You tuned it all out. You stayed out of the news, you stayed out of politics, and you tried to bring some sense of calm normalcy to your life. You no longer needed a full security detail. It was with a heavy heart that you bid farewell to a few of them, leaving only Natasha, Mickey, and Bradley as your remaining security. They helped ensure that your home was always safe, and that you were protected.

But there was still one part of your life that remained incomplete. A void that could only be filled by your Bobby.

And finally, after several months, the day came that you would be reunited. He was strong enough to travel again. He had officially resigned from his job in The White House. He returned to civilian life, and packed up the minimal amount of belongings he had, placing them in the trunk and backseat of his car.

He drove over fifteen hours just to get to you. And it was worth it to him. After not seeing you for months, all he wanted was to hold you in his arms and never let go. So he drove. And he drove. And he drove. Until finally, he was standing at your front door, his hands trembling as Natasha let him in, and informed him that you were out back, in the stable.

So he ran. Ignoring the residual ache in his bad leg, he dashed behind the house, where the stable was, and he kept going into he was standing in the wide doorway. His feet skidded against concrete and hay, and his eyes searched. There you were. Dressed in jeans, riding boots, and a t-shirt. One he recognized as an old shirt of his, which you had snagged from him in the early days of your secret relationship.

You heard him approaching. Heard his feet skid to a halt at the doorway. And your heart quickened in your chest. You turned in what felt like slow motion, your gaze falling upon the man you loved, standing at the entrance of your stable, breathless.

“Bobby,” you whispered.

You weren’t sure who moved first. But in an instant, you were both running toward each other. You met halfway, arms coming out to catch the other, to embrace the other. “You’re here! You’re really here!” Came your cry.

“I’m here.” And then he was kissing you. Arms secure around your body, lips soft and familiar. He kissed you and kissed you and kissed you. And you kissed back. Not even your mingled tears caused you to part. You didn’t want to. It was as if you were afraid this would all be a dream if you pulled away.

When you did part, he was smiling. That sweet smile that made his eyes disappear behind his cheeks. That sweet smile that made your heart sing. “Oh, I missed you!” you sobbed.

“I missed you too, honey. So, so much.”

You embraced again. He spun you around in a circle, and you giggled musically, overjoyed. He was finally here, with you, where he belonged. After months of waiting, months of agony, months of uncertainty, he was in your arms. No longer as the head of your security detail, but as the man you loved.

“I just can’t believe this is real,” came your soft confession.

“Believe it. This couldn’t be more real,” he assured you.

You held his face in your hands. “Oh, my sweet, beautiful man. I’m never going to let you out of my sight again.”

“Good, because I’m here to stay.”

You shared several more moments in that stable, holding each other, still in disbelief that it was finally over. The years of secrecy, the sneaking around behind the scenes. You didn’t have to hide anymore. You were allowed to love each other freely and openly.

Together, you walked back to your house that night, arms around each other, swaying as you walked, happy and content and relieved. You enjoyed a wonderful dinner, just the two of you, as the three remaining members of your security team had excused themselves to their own quarters to allow you privacy.

A lot had changed in the time that you’d been apart. You told Bob all you’d been doing, and he informed you what stepping down from his job, and enduring all that physical therapy, had been like.

He was no longer part of the secret service, and he never would be again. The fear of being found out and losing his position was no longer on the table. There were no superiors to appease. No presidents to serve. He was free to be his own man. To live his life. To love who he wanted.

To love you.

Things were not automatically perfect now that he was with you. But they were better. You would have to figure out some things. And eventually, you would have to tell your family that you were in a relationship with him. But for now, you could live in peace, if only for a brief moment in time. You were safe, on your little farm in Wyoming, with the man you loved. It was your own little slice of heaven.

And after all the difficulty you had endured, you were more than content with that. You could figure everything else out later. For now, you would live in that domestic bliss for just a little while longer. You’d earned it, after all.

Finally, it was your turn to live your life the way you wanted to, and not the way others dictated you should.

taglist (a mix of those already on the list/who might be interested):

@bradshawsbitch @sebsxphia @rhettabbotts @delopsia @milesmillergf @ohtobeleah @purelyfiction @honeymurdock @ihavealewproblem @high-speed-r @happyrebelruins @chasing-fics @roostersgirlfrxend @bradshawsbaby @whisperofsong @hangmanapologist @callsign-magnolia @callsignmedusa @withahappyrefrain @up-thereinthesky @peachystenbrough @damrlova @lovinglyeternal @laracrofted @bobfloydsbabe @nobody7102 @agentorange9595

#bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd

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just-my-type-x · 1 year ago

Note

I want to write something with Brad these upcoming days because i miss writing and also i miss him, so if u have any ideas, drop them in my inbox (would love some smut too)

I would love to combine the ideas for an imagine// you work for the vamps and the reader and Brad start to notice they’re falling for each other

Most Feels Aren't Temporary

Based on these requests and on the songs Temporary by 6lack and Right Now by The Vamps

It's not an unknown fact for the Vamps team that Brad and I dated in my high school years. Even tho his career was taking off at that moment, we knew how to manage our relationship and we knew how to make the most of it. We decided to end our relationship in my first year of uni, when i was 19, the lack of interaction being too much for both of us. No more birthday show ups, no more show ups in important moments of each other's lives. He missed my graduation, i missed their biggest festival they played because of exams. It's safe to say we knew we were the right people at the wrong time, which broke both of our hearts to admit, but it was for the better.

But in life there are no coincidences. After i finished college, i met with the impediment of not knowing what path to take in life, i had no idea what job i wanted, i had no idea what was right for me anymore. I kept talking to Kirstie even after Brad and I parter ways, thing that helped me keep in touch with the band also and i couldn't be happier to see that we worked on our misunderstandings. Later the same year i finished college, Joe offered me a job as a PR assistant, as he didn't want to make the job public and he knew i could handle the boys in the best way.

It's been 5 years and I've upgraded from assistant to manager, but I'm glad i don't get crashed by the boys doing stupid stuff that goes out to the fans. Well maybe once or twice a month, but nothing outrageous.

"Hey", Brad smiles at me as he enters my office

"Hey", i lay back on my desk chair and look at his sleepy face

"Did you sleep in here last night?", he laughs as he checks the clock on my desk. It's barely 8 in the morning

"No, smart pants, i got in here earlier because i needed to get a report done for Joe. I can't work on reports on the road because i get sick", i close my laptop and pick up my documents, Brad helping with placing the chair close to my desk

"I know", he offers me a quick smile before yawning. "I didn't know why i couldn't pick you up from your home. When Joe told me you're here, i almost told him to give you days off just because", he motions to his head and mimics and explosion. I laugh at his words and i push the exit door with my shoulder.

"You didn't have to pick me up, i could drive myself to the airport.", i sigh when i drop everything in the backseat of the car, almost bumping into Brad as he comes by my side to help me with my stuff.

"No, put it like this please, at the first sudden break, this goes to shit", he rambles as he keeps repositioning my laptop and my bag in a way to keep them in place.

"But if you put them like this, if you hit the breaks all of a sudden, by backpack is going to get the laptop to shit", i roll my eyes as i reposition my things as well, but Brad's hands take mine away. It's the first time i realise how close we are, our shoulders and arms touching each other, our faces mere centimeters apart. His hands hold mine for a little while, as we take in each other's features. His dark chocolate eyes trace my face, piercing through my own and making me hold my breath. I watch his mouth slightly smiling, causing me to blush and smile back. His pink lips make me reminisce on the old days, a quick memory of us on a date coming to my mind.

We were on the rooftop of a skyscraper right outside of London, where the light pollution isn't as big as in other parts of the city. We were cuddled up, I was resting my head on his chest, while his arms were wrapped around me. As the night went on, the meteor shower we were waiting for finally took place. Tired and pretty cold, we both got up and watched millions of rocks light up small portions of the sky. I wasn't paying attention to Brad at all anymore, but he cupped my face and kissed me hard, like I'd runaway if he backed away. The kiss grew to be a passionate one, leaving us breathless and needy for more.

"I want this kind of show when i propose to you", he said, surprised by his own words

"What if it takes another 50 years?", i laugh, never looking away from his eyes, that were more sparkling than any falling star or meteor shower.

"That, i did not think through. Are they so rare?", we both bursted out laughing and continued to watch the sky light up every now and then.

His smirk grows wider as my stare is still on his lips.

"Thinking about something naughty?", Brad tries to joke, but he clears his throat right after. I just nod and take my hands away.

I take a deep breath, careful not to show any more emotion than the one i definitely did. "If i tell you what i was thinking about, you wouldn't be able to drive straight", i wink at him and take a seat in the passenger seat.

"Uh", he stops in his tracks and can't say anything else, so he just shakes his head laughing and getting behind the wheel.

The drive to the airport is silent and i can't ignore the past few months of me working with The Vamps, especially with Brad. 5 years ago, when i started, it was so easy to be around him, but i also blame it on the fact that i was so focused on my job and pleasing everyone, that i was basically unapproachable. Joe took me to the side and told me that I'm slowly becoming an workaholic and that i should also take some free time, have fun with the band while I'm at it.

I slowly grew out of my fear of Brad and i not getting along, but he was the one to actually show and help me that our past will not define our friendship then or in the foreseeable future. However, the past few weeks had been different. When i get to the studio with the boys, I'm welcomed by a cup of my favourite coffee and a curly head that's all smiley and in a good mood, only to miss out on a few days of accompanying them and Tris, James or Con to say how Brad was a menace because he didn't agree on anything with them. Being the overthinker that i am, i started to ask myself why he would act like that, only because I'm not there.

Slowly, Brad's gestures towards me made the usual butterflies that i feel in the pit of my stomach every time i see him go even wilder, which wasn't exactly what i wanted. If it didn't work out the first time, it doesn't work the second time either, right?

"Ready for Norway?", James asks as he pulls me in a hug.

"I'm always ready for travelling", i smile as wide as possible, my excitement making everyone laugh. "And i love Norway a lot, i missed visiting it", i look towards Brad who winks at me.

"Oh, you've been there before?", Kirstie's excited tone of voice leaves a bittersweet taste in my soul as i can't match her excitement on this one.

"We went there for our 3 year anniversary. After our european tour.", Brad answers before i get the chance and i look down at my Nikes

"As you can see it's been ages since my last visit so I'm definitely looking forward to getting there", i try to make light of the situation, an unsettling feeling fixing in my chest. Why am i affected by something that happened 8 years prior to this moment? Wasn't i ok with the situation?

***

The cold air hits us as we get out of the airport. Strong wind almost lifts us off the ground as we're trying to find our 2 cars to get us to the small cottage we rented.

"This is definitely not how i remember it", i say as i grab onto the hood on my head for dear life. I earn a few laughs from Tristan and Kirstie and i almost trip over my own luggage when the wind pushes it my way.

After a 40 minute drive, we get to our cottage and unpack for the week. Festivals and vacations are an amazing deal,especially when you actually love the people you work with.

As I'm also taking the wheel and replace both Joe and Evie, i talk through with The Vamps the plans for the festival, the hour when they'll start playing and additional meetings i worked on with the Norwegian press.

"Sounds lovely, great job", Con congratulates me and we fist bump as i put the paper with the information aside. "Anyone hungry?", i ask as i check the time to see it's close to 5PM. We all get to cooking, each of us having a certain assignment. As i run out of things to do for the first course, i end up deciding to bake cupcakes so i wouldn't just stare at everyone else doing something.

"Can you make my faves?", Brad's voice comes from behind me, one of his hands resting on my hip as i measure the flour. I feel my heart drop to the floor at his request, but nod and give him a smile. He rushes to the fridge to give me 2 bananas and a bowl of strawberries and i put them away for later.

As we're waiting for the cupcakes to bake, we end up finishing our food and we starts playing games.

"Ok ok, my turn", Tris almost yells to be heard through the wave of laughter. "I once left the store without paying for my stuff. I broke into my neighbour's property to get my ball from their yard. One of my ex's dad almost beat me up because he caught me with his daughter"

"Ohhh this is tough!", Kirstie hits the table lightly with her palms. "I honestly believe they're all true"

"Everything he said can be done by him", i agree with her and Tris rolls his eyes at us.

"Well thank you", he sarcastically says and we laugh at him

"We've known him for a lifetime and i still have second thoughts on this", James rubs his chin.

"Ok, i got it i got it", i say and look Tris in the eyes. "You got beat up, BECAUSE", i put a lot of emphasis on the word because everyone gets loud and laughs. "If you were dating her at that point in life where you were stealing from damn shops, her dad found out and grounded her. So i could only see you climbing up through her window like a lil Romeo and Juliet type of moment", i take a moment to let everyone calm down from my little story and i carry on. "AND, the next day when you were mad you got beat up by her dad, you went out to play football and your ball ended up on your neighbour's property. So all of them are true, you cheated Tris! You needed a lie", i pinch him slightly as he throws his head back laughing.

"What? They're true?", Brad laughs as Tris nods at the chaotic stories.

"But I'm not done because if all of those are true, I'm gonna say that the neighbour you trespassed into the garden was your girlfriend. And you snuck in there because if you would've knocked on the door or called, you'd get jn trouble again.", i finish my story and take a sip of my beer

"I hate you", he jokes as he throws a napkin in my face. I get interrupted by the oven bipping. I go over to the kitchen to get the cupcakes out. I feel Brad's gaze linger as i disappear behind the wall.

"Don't you have a picture or something to stare at? You're getting creepy", Con jokes and Brad flips him off.

"Shut up", a light pink creeps on his cheekbones.

"What's up with you lately?"

"What do you mean?", Brad shifts in his chair

"The sudden urges to follow y/n around, the request of her to make the cupcakes your favourite kind and i saw your hand on her hip.", Con eats a chip.

"And don't forget about his behaviour when she's not around. All moody and shit", James pops a grape in his mouth.

Brad sighs and shakes his head, looking at nothing on the table. "I'm fucked, that's what's going on. I feel like i messed everything up years ago when we broke up. I know i could've done better and could've saved our relationship but i didn't, because i was selfish at some point. I was too tired and i lied to her that i can't make it to her graduation because we were in another city. Initially, i wanted to surprise her and i didn't tell her we're gonna get back earlier. But when we actually did, i couldn't find the will in me to get up early again and leave. She shrugged everything off and didn't mind that i wasn't there, i think she lied, but it made me feel better. Then our schedule didn't match at all but i never told her to come with us at different shows. She offered to take online classes for a semester, i told her not to bother. She found out about these things after we broke up, it's safe to say she didn't speak to me a while.", he scoffs as he continues, everyone listening closely." And we're getting just fine now but i see the smile on her face every time she shows up to work and i know it's because we all maks her happy because she's here with her friends, but i can't say I'm not selfish, again, and i don't wish for that smile to be, at least once, just for me, because she feels the same as i do about her. "

"And what exactly do you feel?", James raises an eyebrow, almost a mischievous smile creeping in.

"I want her back. I want to try again with her, this is what second chances are for, right? To make things better and to prove that I'll turn the wrongs into rights. Even in her college years, it was so hard to see her hanging out with all these people, but i pushed whatever feeling away because i couldn't take her back and treat her the same way as before. To make things worse, lately i get all these flashbacks from when we were together and if i don't act soon, the memories will end up wrecking me.", he taps nervously on the table as everyone's silent after his confession.

"Ok, they're ready and delicious, but they're hot so be careful. Especially you, Tris.", i say as i come back with two plates full of cupcakes.

"What's that supposed to mean?", a fake hurt squeal comes from him

"Because you want to devour whatever is in front of you", we laugh and he agrees.

"I would've had a very naughty answer for you but i can't do this to someone at the table", he laughs and looks at Brad, who's nervously rubbing his chin.

"Oh by all means, i wanna know what you're capable of. Alice asked me about you, i wanna see if you're worthy of her time", i rest one hand on my hip and watch his eyes sparkle with interest.

"I would've said that if i wanted to devour everything that's in front of me, my dessert would've been you, not the cupcakes", be shoots me an innocent smile as i laugh and blush at his statement. We all laugh and i take a seat back next to Connor.

"You're a dead man", Brad says smiling and we giggle a little more before digging into our sweets.

***

Hours later I'm left alone with Brad in the big living room. I stretch myself when i get up off the couch and i yawn.

"No, don't go", Brad whispers as sleepy as me, as he grabs my hand and pulls me in front of him, looking up in my eyes.

"It's late, Bradley, let's go to sleep", i offer to pull him off the couch but he stays put. Instead, he pulls a bit more by my arms and i end up sitting on his lap, my legs on his side, as my hand are glued to his chest. I take in his scent and i close my eyes to take in the moment and the feeling of him.

"Can i sleep with you? Please? It's been so long since", he brushes his nose on mine and i hold my breath because of how intimate this moment is. "I miss you. And this", he puts a hand over my hands, "isn't enough for me. I miss your touches that are more than just mistakes because we want to grab the same thing, i miss your smiles that are just for me, not for everyone else in the room", he stops, cupping my cheek with his hand, making me look into his eyes. His thumb brushes over my lips, lingering on the bottom one and tracing its shape slowly. "And these lips, y/n you don't understand how desperate I am without them"

With no mind of my own, i press my lips on his, taking him by surprise, almost pulling away at my sudden action. He kisses me back, holding me by the back of my neck, while one of hands runs through his curls. He traces my lip with his tongue and i part my lips to let his tongue slide in. We bite on our lips, suck and taste each other and he helps me change positions to straddle him, his hands not going lower than the small of my back, earning a soft, annoyed moan. He chuckles at my reaction and pulls away. He kisses me one more time and i climb down from him. Confused, he raises a brow.

"Bradley, this won't work."

"It will, because I'm 100% ready to start again with you. The break up was mostly my fault, but i can assure you that my feelings for you weren't temporary. And I'm sure i wasn't supposed to feel this way in case my feelings were long gone", he confesses and i rub my forehead

"What are you feeling?"

"Love. I feel like i love you still, like we never broke up and like we are mature enough to face the reality. I never got over you and i don't know if it's because you work for us, but I'm sure i wouldn't had been able to move on from you ever. Give me one more chance to prove to you how much you mean to me. We don't have to do everything right just yet, but we're right now, in this moment and if i lose you, I'm afraid I'll never get you back. I can't let you slip away. ", his handa cup my face again and i cup his, brushing by thumbs over his cheekbones.

"Ok, and i promise to always be by your side ans support you more than i ever did in the past. I know i also did some wrong things, which i will always regret. I know you're right for me and as most people are temporary, i know we're not temporary for each other. ", i close the gap between us, as my lips glue to his, the familiar feeling of the shape of his mouth seems to have never disappeared in the first place.

#brad simpson smut #bradley will simpson #brad simpson imagine #bradley simpson #brad simpson #bradsimpson #bradley simpson imagine #the vamps #the vamps imagine #celebrity imagines

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sunlightmurdock · 9 months ago

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Ceasefire | 1.2 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (18+)

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Synopsis: Bradley Bradshaw is in San Diego, summoned to Top Gun for the first time. Commander “Hyde” Simpson is his flight instructor, and she doesn’t have time for schoolboy crushes.

Warnings: ex-husband!beausimpson, divorce, age gap (rooster is somewhere between 26-28, reader is 38), power imbalance between instructor and student aviator, swearing, slight angst at the end, smut, handjobs, teasing, riding and creampies that are never addressed again, sub!rooster, bondage, probably very inaccurate flight info

…

Eleven weeks have never felt quite so long. At the same time, the memory of seeing Bradley Bradshaw staring at you with that dopey smile still feels so fresh. In one week, classes will officially be over. Rooster will no longer be your student. It’s almost pathetic, the way you’re already miserable at the thought of not seeing his face when you walk in every morning.

Still, in this moment, he’s still here and frowning down at his flight manual. It’s a storming afternoon and the air stuff got canceled, but with Beau’s mood swings lately, class remains to be in session. You’re perched on the edge of your desk, waiting patiently for whichever one of your star pupils can answer your question first.

“Minimum total hydroplaning speed of the main landing gear tires inflated to 250 pounds per square inch is 140 knots groundspeed and, for nose gear tires inflated to 150 per square inch, is 110 knots. Ma’am.” Flipping his toothpick in his mouth and offering you a dimpled grin that proves he knows he’s correct before you tell him, Jake Seresin is a fraction faster than Natasha Trace, who sits directly behind him. It’s not the hardest question. They all should know it. It’s just the rain outside that even made you think of it.

Offering Jake a small smile and a curt nod, you open your mouth to confirm that he is once again correct. To his left, you can’t help but glance across at your favourite thing to look at in this bleak little teaching room. Only, he isn’t smiling at you.

He’s staring down at his NATOPs, brows drawn together in something between frustration and confusion. Maybe embarrassment. You can’t pretend that it isn’t your initial impulse to discredit Jake to save Bradley’s feelings — but you don’t. That’s not your job, and it’s not what you’ve worked so hard to do.

“Good work, Hangman.” You tell him calmly. Bradley doesn’t dare look up from the page. Not once. Rain pours on outside and he spends the entire afternoon glaring at the manual like he wants to rip it to shreds.

As you dismiss the class, the thought looms of this all being over soon. With just one more week to go, there are lots of decisions hanging heavy. Maybe that’s what is getting to him.

“Rooster, hang back. I need to speak to you.”

Instantly, you can tell that this was not the right move. He turns towards you, his face sullen and his eyes dark. Your brows draw together, closing the door behind the last of your students and shutting him in there with you. Alone, he remains just as closed off.

“Are you okay? — You seem kind of—“ One step forwards, you reach out for him with a gentle touch, in a way that could still be mistaken for professionalism if someone were to walk in on the two of you. But, the second your hand grazes his bicep, he shrugs it off.

“I’m fine,” He mutters, gaze turned towards the floor. His usual sunny disposition seems to have gone away with the weather. Your eyes draw into a stern squint. “Am I dismissed?”

“Dis— Okay. No, Bradshaw,” You pretend that one didn’t sting, squaring your shoulders and inhaling slowly, stepping closer so that he has no choice but to see you finally standing in front of him. “No, you’re not dismissed. If you want to start acting like this is about rank, then that’s fine by me. I want you to talk to me either way.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks. His eyes dart towards the door, and then back to you. Finally, you watch him soften. His fingertips graze the inside of your palm, choosing to look down at that exchange rather than at you.

“Could you come over tonight?”

“On official Navy business?” You tease, poking softly at his ribs through the fabric of his flight suit. All you’re offered in return is a weak smile.

He links his fingers gently through yours. Slightly more incriminating, if you were to be walked in on. Still, it tugs at your heart strings as he sighs in resignation. “Please, Hyde?”

“Of course,” You tell him, giving his palm a quick squeeze. “I’ll be over just after seven.”

He has to wait for you to finish up your work before you’re able to leave. By the time you find him, he has already worked out and showered, and he has been sitting in his room wallowing for about forty minutes.

“Talk to me,” Even with his mood, there’s nothing he can do but drape his arms around your waist and tuck his head into the soft curve of your neck as you straddle his hips. “That’s what couples do.”

There’s a moment of silence, but not the same as earlier. His hands find the small of your back, tugging you closer as he sighs against your shoulder. You know that this time he’s just finding his words. It’s almost enough, having you here in his bedroom, draped around him, ready to listen.

In the meantime, you inhale the fresh scent of his cologne and turn your face towards his temple, pressing your lips to his damp curls.

“I’m just in my head about graduation,” He settles finally, curling his fingers around your hips, pulling back to look at you. “I knew I wasn’t going to graduate at the top of the class, but — I’m starting to wonder if I even deserve to be up there with all of them. You know?”

Your fingers are soft as they card through his hair, your expression much softer than it should be as his instructor. His fingers can’t sit still, pulling you closer, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“Of course you do,” The answer comes instantly, without hesitation. It’s followed by a chaste kiss. He turns his head and sighs again, readying to protest. “You knew the answer today. Doesn’t matter if you can find it in the book before Hangman or not, you knew it.”

“How’re you so sure that I did?” He challenges, frowning back at you. As much as he wants to believe you’re telling him this because you really believe in him, there’s still a voice in the back of his head telling him that you’re just trying to pacify him by giving him what he wants to hear.

You squint back at him, smoothing your fingers through his freshly washed curls.

“Because I know you better than I know anyone in that class, I’ve flown with you,” You tell him softly. He hums as you kiss his cheek. “I know your instincts up there are better than anyone else. Even if the answer isn’t in your head right away, I know that when you’re up there, you would know what to do.”

With that, he sighs and leans his head back. His fingers flex nervously around your hips. With his eyes closed, you used the moment to catch him by surprise. He sucks in a sharp breath as your palm dips between the two of you and grinds against his cock through his shorts.

“I trust you. Up there, and down here.”

His mouth twitches slightly, his eyes softening as he tries to pull back from you. “Hyde… come on, I don’t need you to baby me.”

You smile back at him, giving a curt nod of your head as you brush your palm more firmly against him. The way his throat contracts when he’s trying not to give in to you prickles along your skin, a rush of excitement.

He closes his eyes as you lean in and suck softly at the freckle on the left side of his neck. Your lips trail tantalizingly slowly along his throat until finally he shivers at the feeling of your breath against his earlobe, “Okay. You want me to make you prove it?”

“Make me?” He breathes out, fingers balling into the fabric of your T-shirt, brows knitting together. Already, his cock is standing to attention through the fabric of his shorts.

“That’s right,” It’s a gentle coo, so soft and sweet that Bradley really isn’t expecting it at all when you tug hard at his hair with your other hand. He inhales sharply, catching your hips and pulling you against him. His cheeks flush red, his eyes blown wide and desperate. You’ve never seen a man beg without even opening his mouth before. “Close your eyes for me.”

Another thick swallow, his throat squeezing around nothing as he closes his eyes, his dark lashes brushing against his cheek.

He’s so pliant, giving himself up to your more than capable touch. Lulling him into calmness that he’s powerless to fight against as your mouth kisses at his chest, pushing at the hem of his t-shirt and helping him out of it.

“Contrary to what you might have heard from Hangman, or from Pete Mitchell,” Bradley bites at the inside of his cheek as you lick at his freshly exposed chest, nipping at his pectoral. Even with his eyes closed, he’s red and embarrassed by how hard his nipples are in the chilled room. “Being a good aviator isn’t about confidence.”

If you’re going to keep talking as you head further south, he’s going to struggle to keep listening. His hands follow you as you slip out of his lap and settle between his knees, your tongue trailing along his middle.

“Instinct is everything.”

Bradley balls his hands into his bedsheets, lips parting just slightly as you suck firm kisses into his taut abdomen.

“Lay down.” You order, and without question, he obeys by scooting back and laying down flat with his legs still over the edge and bracketing you.

“Lay back for me.” You say sweetly, he obeys. To your right, you find the brown leather belt that you’ve been eyeing. Still looped through his jeans, discarded onto the chair in the corner of the room. Rooster fidgets in front of you, waiting to feel your touch again. “You trust me, right, Rooster?”

“Of course.” He exhales, his answer instant.

You push yourself up and he peeks an eye open, watching you free the belt and turn back towards him. Your smile grows as you find him even more red-faced than before, staring right at you.

“Lift your hands and hold your wrists together for me.”

“Really?” He whispers, his voice thick. You nod sweetly, nodding for him to shift further up the bed. He complies wordlessly, pushing himself to the top of the bed and presenting his wrists for you. His eyes darken and his brows raise, watching you climb up the bed with his belt in your hands.

“Don’t pull too hard, you’ll be sore.” You warn him, looping the belt around his wrists and through the wooden slats in his headboard. He gasps softly as you pull the leather tight and guide it through the buckle.

“Fucking hell…” He breathes out, his voice an excited whisper.

After the soft leather is secured, his wrists fastened to his headboard, you take a minute to sit back and observe. He’s watching you with such abject trust, desperation and excitement all at once. His stomach is quivering with each breath, stretched tight by the way his arms are raised.

Your tongue dips out to wet your bottom lip as your fingers reach for him, walking along the length of his thigh. Leaning over him again, you dip forwards and press a soft kiss to his lips.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to be naked.” Rooster rushes out, shifting uncomfortably and glancing towards his tied hands. When his eyes flicker back to you, he breaks into a bashful smile. Your lips twitch, looking back at him.

“Okay,” You agree sweetly, reaching for the bottom of your t-shirt. He watches the way your eyes darken, filling with mischief as you pull it up just enough to expose the soft skin of your stomach, then hold it there. “You’re at a cruise altitude of 35,000 feet, how do you know how to calculate your descent?”

Three miles per distance per thousand feet in altitude. Your mouth twitches watching him do the math in his head while staring at the sliver of exposed skin under your shirt.

“35,000 minus the last three zeroes — uh, thirty-five. Thirty-five multiplied by three… a hundred and five.” You narrow your eyes quizzically as he stumbles through the math, knowing that it comes more easily to him than he’s able to tell you. You’ve not seen him personally land on a carrier, but you know he can. You know that he’s done it a hundred times over. “You’d start the descent 105 nautical miles from the destination, maintaining a speed of 300 Knots-Indicated air speed… and a descent rate of 1,500 to 2,000 feet per minute, with thrust set at idle.”

You smile back at him, peeling your shirt up and over your head. He exhales, eyes falling down to the black bra covering your tits. Forgetting himself for a moment, he moves to sit, the buckle of his belt knocking into the woods and reminding him of his predicament.

“Feet per minute,” You continue, reaching for your own belt, slipping the leather from the buckle and pausing. “If you land on the carrier right, how does the hornet hit the deck?”

“800 feet per minute.” He exhales. Your mouth twists into a grin as you pop open your belt buckle.

By the time that he has rid you of your clothes, his answers are especially fast and you’ve noticed that his wrists are growing red under the hold of the leather.

Standing on your knees, you crawl your way up your, now completely naked, boyfriend and turn. Straddling his abdomen, your naked core sits just out of his reach. His mouth falls open and a dismayed, needy sound slips out.

Having freed him of his own shorts and boxers just moment before, his cock is red and swollen, angry from the lack of attention. Settling yourself with a sly wiggle of your hips, you take his cock in both of your hands and cover as much as you can with your mouth.

Soaking his length with a generous amount of saliva, you hear his head fall back and hit the headboard as your hands start to stroke him. Long strides coat his shaft in spit, your hands twisting loosely left from right. From this way, the way you’re straddling him, you’ve got a front-row view to the way his thighs have started to tremble.

Furthering his dismay, he has a front-row seat to your soaked pussy, inches from his face, but just out of reach. Your hands are steady, just as calm and skilled as they are when you’re in the cockpit. Not too fast, just guiding him steadily closer to his orgasm. Letting your spit soak him, adding more to the mix, squeezing him firmly every now and again. Craning your neck so that you can lick and suck softly at his balls. His moans are strangled, agonizingly desperate from behind you.

When you finally decide to grace him with a firmer, faster touch, his moans are so jagged and eager that you know Hangman and Coyote must be able to hear him. The heels of his feet press into the mattress, his hips bucking eagerly into your hands.

He tugs hard at his restraints and winces behind you. With each delighted sound from your lips as they’re wrapped around him, his own voice is growing more and more strained. For the life of him, he just can’t keep still. He’s putty in your hands. This wouldn’t be the first time he has made a mess all over your hands, but today, that isn’t the plan.

“Hyde, don’t — please don’t — I’m so fucking close…”

You hum, hands already withdrawn. He writhes under you as you turn to face him.

“You can hold on a little longer for me, right baby?”

His voice is getting more strained as you squeeze your hands around his twitching cock and just as he is about to erupt you retract your hands leaving his chest huffing in frustration and near euphoria.

You shift, straddling his hips. His eyes go wide and round, lips parted as you situate yourself right over him and sink down just barely. Your soaked core just grazes him as you rock back and forth softly. His eyes follow the curve of your waist, the slight movement of your tits as you taunt him.

“Can wait a little longer for me, right?”

“Oh, fuck.” Rooster whimpers.

You lower yourself gently onto him, palms braced against his shivering chest as his tip notches into you. He gasps and turns his head towards the pillow, pulling hard at the restraint.

You lean all the way forwards, your naked tits pushing against his chest, your lips mouthing softly at his neck. “It’s okay, I’m gonna take care of you.”

Finally, he’s fully sheathed into you, and he sighs out in relief, dropping his head forwards to rest against the curve of your shoulders.

“I still wanna see you cum,” He pants out, groaning softly as you lift up and sink slowly back down on him, digging his heels into the mattress. “If I can’t do it, I still wanna see it.”

Your mouth twitches at the thought.

“Yeah, you want to watch me get off?” You grin, kissing across his cheek and finally at his mouth. He whines softly, watching you rocking your hips into his gently, grinding yourself into him.

“You have to stop talking or I’m gonna cum.” He mutters with a stiff shake of his head, his eyes flickering up to you as you giggle above him. You purse your lips and lean forwards, pressing a sweet kiss to the tip of his nose and then sit back.

He watches, every muscle in his chest and arms constricting as he watches you sit back on his thighs, all full of him, lifting your fingers and miming a zip across your lips, and then a lock at the corner of your mouth. Finally, even though all of his focus is on trying not to bust, his lips stretch into an amused grin.

You settle back into the rhythm of bouncing on him, bracing one hand back against his thigh as the other dips between your own legs.

The angle is just right, your orgasm ebbs closer but remains just out of reach as he watches helplessly, dazed by the glow of you.

From the first day he saw you, he’d never imagined he would be as lucky as to be at your mercy like this. The thought dawns him and his hips twitch, snapping up to meet yours.

“Christ— wait, slow down, wait— oh, fuck.”

You gasp sharply as he drives himself into you just once more from below before he’s spilling hot and fast into you, groaning and gasping out loud with little regard for who might hear him.

His deep groans are music to your ears as your fingers work feverishly at your clit to keep up. His mouth hangs open, still buried inside of you as he watches you come apart in front of him, your eyes closed and your chest heaving, his name on the tip of your tongue.

Finally, you collapse forwards against his chest, lifting off of him and kissing at his neck.

“Fuck…” He breathes out.

“You feel better?” You whisper, catching your breath as your nails rake along his stomach. He hums in response, kissing softly at your temple.

He sighs in relief as you pull the belt apart and free his wrists, stretching out his arms and rubbing at the reddened skin.

“I can’t stay, Taylor’s getting dropped off home at nine.” You kiss his mouth softly, already starting to push off of his chest. He just groans and rolls onto his front, disgruntled by the idea of not having you in his bed tonight. “I’ll see you tomorrow at six?”

“Right. What should I wear?”

“A little more than you’re wearing now, preferably.”

He chuckles tiredly and considers grabbing his boxers, opting to instead just press his face into his pillow as he listens to you getting dressed again.

“Should I bring them like… a gift or something?”

“It’s a little early for bribery.”

He sighs and sits up swiftly, resting his elbows on his knees, his mouth creasing into a worried frown. “What are we going to do if they don’t like me?”

Really, there’s only one answer; you’d never put him before your kids and he knows that.

Pulling your shirt down over your body, there’s only one thing to do. You lean forwards and kiss his lips tenderly. “They’ll love you.”

Once you convince him to get dressed again, Bradley walks you down to your car. Jake and Coyote say their greetings and goodbyes swiftly and politely, not making you stop for small talk.

Then, as Rooster heads back upstairs with a reddened face and even more reddened wrists, they meet him in the living room, beaming.

”Don’t start.” He groans, trying to dismiss them and head back to his room before the ridicule starts. It’s a little late for that. It’s been a little late for that since they heard Rooster practically crying your name twenty minutes earlier.

As you return home to reunite with your children, you’re greeted with an onslaught of texts about how — to quote — ‘those idiots heard everything’. It should bother you, but the thought of Bradley all red-faced and squirming at their comments just makes you chuckle.

Meeting at a neutral place always seemed like the best option, until you’re sitting in the parking lot, staring at your kids in the backseat — feeling like you’re introducing cats. Well, it has been quite some time since your children got over their interest in scratching and biting, so hopefully this will go smoother than that.

”How are you guys feeling?” You ask them, turning in your seat finally. Dylan can see the worry on your face. Your brows are raised, your eyes are round and fleeting between them each, lips pursed.

”Yeah, fine, mom.” He offers you a polite, sincere smile. It’s the best that he has to give. He knows this means something big to you. He knows that you’ve started singing in the kitchen again, and reading Taylor the stories with the voices, laughing with him until you’re doubled over and crying.

”Do you think he likes cats better or dogs?” Taylor perks up, tucking her feet up onto the seat and quirking her head at you. Your lips twitch as your son rolls his eyes at her.

“You can ask him.” You decide, and she seems to accept this as good enough of an answer. She settles back in her booster seat, crosses her arms across her little knit sweater and smiles back at you. Poor Rooster doesn’t have a clue what he’s in for with this little chatterbox — but you know he’ll be glad to not have to sit in silence.

A beat passes as you look between their faces. They both smile back at you, for different reasons entirely.

“Okay, are we ready to go inside?”

After quick agreement, Taylor watches her shoes cast purple neon shadows across the puddles, flashing bright with each step as your heels clack across the ground ahead of her. A hand lands on her shoulder, guiding her along and making sure that she keeps up.

Swiftly, she looks up at her big brother, frowning curiously at him, ”So, do we have to call him Dad too?”

”Rooster.” You breathe out, lips stretching into a smile as you spot him walking over from his truck. He looks right past you as you wrap your arms around his neck. About five paces back, your kids are trailing you, deep in conversation. About him, no doubt.

Suddenly, his attention snaps back to you, his eyes going wide as you kiss his cheek. He untangles himself from you, aggressively platonic for a man who was begging to hold you yesterday.

“Hi.”

”Don’t be weird, they’re children, not the FBI.” You whisper to him, turning quickly as you hear the two of them approaching this. “Guys, this is Bradley. Bradley, this is my daughter, Taylor, and my son, Dylan.”

”Hello.” Bradley stiffens.

“Hey.” Dylan tries.

“You’re pretty tall. Women like that.” It would seem that you’re all caught off guard by your daughter’s comment. Luckily, it’s just enough of a surprise to make Bradley’s tight-lipped smile break into a wide-stretching grin.

He sits opposite her at the table, Dylan by his side and you opposite Dylan. She spent the afternoon with your mother and it would seem, the two of them spent their time preparing questions.

”So—“ Dylan manages to interrupt, earning himself a stern glare from the little girl who was just about to get into the favourite colours segment of her interview. Bradley turns his head and looks at your son. “What team do you follow?”

Bradley shoots a glance over at you, knowing full well that your son has been raised to be a die hard 49ers fan. He looks back to the thirteen year old and inhales— he can’t pretend to like that team, he just can’t do it—

“The Eagles.” He rushes out.

“Huh.” Dylan quirks an eyebrow, turns his head and shoots you a look. He smirks softly, bringing the rim of his Pepsi glass to his mouth. “And… how’s that working out for ya, big guy?”

Bradley’s mouth falls slack, and he looks quickly across the table for support, finding nothing but you smirking back at him and Taylor giggling in response.

“Hey, buddy, I’ll have you know—“ And once again, that seems to do the trick. That’s the straw, right before the appetizers come out, that gets Bradley really talking, and after that it just doesn’t stop.

Taylor quickly gets him onto the conversation of cats versus dogs — he seems to pass her test. Bradley turns the conversation on you, and winds up grinning ear to ear with the insight of how your children perceive you to be, how they love you. You turn the conversation on Bradley, and reveal to the children that he not only enjoys rum and raisin flavoured ice-cream, but that it’s his favourite.

The betrayal on his face after that one will keep you laughing for weeks to come. It’s almost enough for the children to change their minds about him, but he quickly gets things back on track by revealing that he once met the guy who plays Captain America on a flight.

That wins him some serious brownie points.

You know that, just as easily as he had with you, he had won them over.

He grins at you as he settles the bill — despite your insistence to split it, his nerves seeming to have finally calmed.

“Mom, why do you call him Bradley when his work name is Rooster?” Taylor asks, slipping her hand into you palm as you head for the exit.

“Because we aren’t at work right now.” You answer with a shrug, checking over your shoulder to see Rooster talking with Dylan about something behind you.

“Can I call him Rooster?” She asks, peering up at you.

“If he says you can.”

“Bradley?” She cranes her neck as she calls back to him, capturing his attention instantly. “Can I call you Rooster?”

“Sure. Either works.” He shrugs, tucking his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans, walking to catch up with the two of you.

She looks quickly back up to you, approval plastered across her little face. She gives your hand a quick squeeze and smiles.

…

Tags: @cherrycola27 @mak-32 @khaylin27 @stoncms @shanimallina87 @cool-ultra-nerd @angelmavmurdock @gingerbreadandpaper @mizzzpink @whisperofsong @throwinsauce @perpetuelledaydreaming @n3ssm0nique @thedroneranger @abaker74 @marantha @ghxst-heart @diamond-3 @shawnsblue

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x you #top gun smut #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader

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ohtobeleah · 2 years ago

Note

Jake and Iris make me feel things I’ve never felt before. The chemistry, the toxicity, the overall dynamic makes me sweat 🥵

I.R.I.S Masterlist

Brrooo, I had so much fun writing this one and I really got carried away because it’s over 5k long. So please enjoy.

Warning: Smut! Female receiving oral. Jake Seresin x Mitchell!reader. Undisclosed age gap.

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

“Dad—cool your jets alright I said it’s not what it looks like.” You groaned as you hid your face in the palms of your hands as you kicked off the covers of your bed.

“Iris….” Mav looked at you like he was ready to combust on the spot. The little vein near his temple had risen like it was about to pop. “What are you doing sleeping in Hangman's shirt?”

You had to think fast on your feet with this one, but this wasn’t your first rodeo. Jake, unsurprisingly, wasn’t the first guy you’d fucked around with. What could you say? You had a thing for older guys.

“I got pretty hammered the other night alright, shit happens and I threw up on my shirt, this must’ve just been the one I picked up from the lost and found bin at the Hard Deck.” You lied through your fucking teeth as you got out of bed. Mav just stood there speechless. “Must’ve got thrown in with the washing and just ended up in the pile on the chair.” You gestured to your clean washing pile you had yet to put away. “I got in pretty late last night, but if you’d rather me not keep it, I’ll give it back. You said it belongs to Jake right?”

“No I said it belongs to your Lieutenant Commander, Iris, Lieutenant Commander Seresin—“ Mav corrected you. “He’s Jake to you when he’s over for family events, any other time he’s your superior, address him as such or at least as Hangman.” You just paused, you rolled your eyes as you collected some things for a shower. Underwear, jeans, a normal shirt that wasn’t Jakes.

“Uh, but I quit the program Daddio.” You reminded your dad. “So realistically he’s not my superior, and I can call him Jack Shit if I wanted to.”

“You did not quit, Mitchell’s don’t quit.” Pete replied, he was losing his cool and you could tell, but like father like daughter, so were you. “You don’t get to quit TopGun, you’re the top one percent and of this nation aviators Iris.” Pete thought reminding you of your remarkable skills would sway you into thinking twice about your decision. It didn’t. Not even in the slightest bit.

“They do when the whole system is rigged!” You turned on your heels as you slammed the draw you’d been looking in for a belt. “They do when they’ve been capped dad!”

“What are you talking about?” Pete just played as dumb as he possibly could, but he knew. Oh boy did he know what you were talking about.

“Rooster told me what some of the guys said to the Admirals! He told me what they said they’d do if I was given an ounce of a shot at this—“ You’d have to call Bradley later and tell him to take the L. You couldn’t tell the truth but you couldn’t not confront your dad. You weren’t about to say, ‘Nah l heard what you said when I was under your desk with Jake's dick down my throat—‘ Were you?

“Iris—“

“Why would you not tell me that? My own dad, the reason why I’m fucking stunted in my career! This is it for me dad.” You hissed. “I don’t get to go any further than this because I’ve got Pete fucking Mitchell goddamn DNA—“

“Enough, we’ll talk to Admiral Simpson—“ Pete’s heart ached inside his chest as he looked at you, his daughter, every ounce of him. He hadn’t always been there and hell he’d missed a lot. But he loved you, he loved your mother in some strange amicable way too. Enough that he never missed a child support payment, he even paid more than he was required. He sent birthday and holiday gifts, paid half your schooling fees and paid for your first car. But Pete knew no amount of money equated to time lost. “I agree, this whole thing isn’t fair.” He said softly. “And we’ll figure out a way to fix it.”

“You can maybe but I’m not going shit.” You weren’t in the mood for this. You didn’t want to be told what to do, you weren’t a child and you weren’t in the wrong here. If you wanted to quit on your own terms you were going to. “I’m not the one who thinks so low of myself that I need to stunt others to gain notoriety, that’s fucking Rebound and his ugly ass personality.” You didn’t exactly know who had put in the complaints against you but if someone had held a gun to your head and asked you to take a wild guess, you knew your answer would be pretty accurate. “So if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna take a shower, make a coffee and enjoy my morning off because I. Fucking. Quit.”

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

“You come to your senses finally?” Bradley asked as he flipped through his lesson plan. “Heard through the scuttlebutt yesterday that you dragged Iris into the Admirals office by her damn ear?” Jake's mind momentarily flashed to the events of last night, when he had you splayed out beneath him moaning his name. As he blinked back the X rated image he remembered he’d woken up alone, in a cold and empty bed he wished you were in.

“She’s flunking on purpose because these guys are intimidated.” Jake looked at his own lesson plan as he lent on the table in the hanger turned makeshift classroom. “Someone had to pull her back in line.”

“And that someone’s you?” Bradley asked, all Jake did was look at him confused. He was your teacher fisher and foremost, what else was he supposed to do? “Huh, you could’ve had me and everyone else fooled.” Bradley shrugged. “Heard you really gave it to the kid.”

“Don’t call her a kid man.” Jake cringed. “God it makes me feel like I’m some kinda perv.”

“You are a perv! You’re fucking Mavs daughter!” Bradley hissed. “On multiple occasions it seems? Jake, Have you actually stopped to think for a moment what will happen when he actually finds out? Because it’s gonna come out eventually and I’m gonna be so fucking far gone when it does man you won’t see the ass end of me.”

“He’s not gonna find out, we’re keeping it casual.” Jake just shrugged it off, he couldn’t keep thinking about the what ifs when he was with you in the moment. He wanted to enjoy the time he had with you. Sneaking around, being discreet, if he kept thinking about your dad every time he was with you he was gonna form an unwanted association and Jake couldn’t have that. He’d almost lost you once and he wasn’t ready to give you up yet. “Casual and consensual Rooster, she might be Mavs daughter but she’s still an adult.”

“Oi!” Just as Rooster and Hangman were about to start preparing their whiteboard, Mav was walking into the hangar with broad shoulders and a stirn glare. “Tweedle dee and dumbass!”

“Who’s who?” Rooster asked through a laugh as he wrote up his status on the whiteboard, earning himself a smack in the back of the head. “Ow! The fuck Mav��?”

“Thanks for telling Iris about the complaints some of her classmates made, Rooster.” Maverick just deadpanned Bradley, the guy had a few inches on Mav but he didn’t care. “She’s pissed off now and you of all people know how she gets when she’s pissed off!” It was true, Bradley Bradshaw was literally the closest thing you had to a brother, which meant when you were both a little younger, you in your teens and Bradley in his twenties— fought like cats and dogs.

“What are you even talking about?” Rooster asked as he looked at Jake who just kept writing on the board, he looked all kinds of guilty. “I—“ Rooster paused, what had you and Jake been up to that meant you had to lie and say that Rooster told you? He hadn’t checked his phone all morning but he regretted it now. “Did, yeah I did do that, sorry—she cornered me when I pulled a point or two when she was doing Hard Deck pull ups.” Jake let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as Bradshaw took the blame, he owed him—big time.

“Well because she knows, apparently she quit the program.” Jake's heart sank from his chest into his ass. No you didn’t? You would’ve mentioned that last night. “I've gotta go talk to Cyclone about it now—this whole thing is a giant mess.”

“Iris could probably still have this thing if she applied herself.” Jake hadn’t taken his eyes off of what he was writing. “She could fly circles around those losers with her eyes closed and hands tied behind her back.” Jake kinda wished he’d just said this to you yesterday instead of dragging you through the mud. The longer he thought about it, perhaps words of encouragement could have prevented you from taking an overly critical approach. “She’s a smart girl, but she’s your daughter, which means she’s just a stubborn as you so—“

Pete just fished the T-shirt he’d stuffed into the back of his jean pocket out and threw it Hangman's way. Jake caught it on his shoulder. He looked rather confused at the white material that cascaded down his shoulder.

“She is smart, but she’s got her mothers rage.” Mav sighed. “Or stupidity, I’m not sure, but she damn near gave me a heart attack this morning when I went into her room and saw her sleeping in that shit.” Jake took the shirt from his shoulder to investigate, he could feel the heat sweeping across his face as he realised that you must have accidentally picked up his prized Hangman shirt after he’d discarded it last night. You know, before he fucked the shit out of you. “Wanna tell me why my daughter was sleeping in your shirt? Jacob?”

“I uh—“ Jake was panicking, Mav could tell. He was onto whatever was going on here he just couldn’t tell what exactly it was or to what extent it had gone. Did he believe your little lost and found story? No. Not in the slightest bit. “I couldn’t tell you man I haven’t seen this thing for a while.” Jake chuckled out, rubbing the back of his head as he thumbed at the cotton fabric. “Thought I’d lost it? How’d Iris end up with it?”

“She said she thinks she got it out of the Lost and Found box at the Hard Deck?”

“That checks—“ Rooster mumbled as Jake sent him a look. “Honest, she was a mess a few nights ago. She’s lucky I didn’t kick her out of the Bronco when she threatened to spew her guts up on my dash.” It was all fabricated. Bradley didn’t know why he was jumping to Jake’s defense when the evidence was literally in the palm of his hands. But today was not the day to be down an instructor—so if anything Bradley took it upon himself to make sure Jake Seresin could live to breathe another breath for his own selfish reasons. “What, you think they’re fucking or something Mav?”

At that moment Jake forgot how to breathe when Pete Mitchell starred directly into Jake's soul. Just waiting for him to crack.

“I haven’t figured that out yet, but if they are? Just know it doesn’t bode well in your favour, Hangman—“

“I would never touch your daughter Mav, it’s Iris.” Jake cringed like you were beneath him, like it was an insult to his character that he’d stoop so low. That’s he’d be that dumb. “She’s basically a kid—“ Bradley couldn’t believe what he was hearing, blowing air into his cheeks as he turned back to hide his face against the whiteboard as Mav continued eyeing off Jake. “You know I wouldn’t, and the fake I haven’t seen this shirt in weeks just adds up. Iris got it outta the lost and found, thanks for returning it.”

As Jake spoke complete and utter lies, all he could hear was your soft moans and delicate whimpers. He could feel your nails dragging into the muscles that littered the expanse of his back and after last night? The track marks you’d left began to throb with anxiety.

“Yeah—“ Mav sighed, tapping Jake on the arm a few times. “Yeah I guess you’re right, sorry, I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”

“No hard feelings.” Jake just replied, he just wanted this conversation to be over so he couldn’t put his foot in it any further.

The second Pete turned his back Jake went weak in the knees. Bradley’s eyes widened with endless questions and queries. But he settled on just one.

“What exactly were you and Iris doing that she had to throw me under the bus like that?” Jake didn’t respond right away, he was still trying to process the fake he was rock fucking solid. The idea of Mav threatening him for being any way shape or form involved with you had him going feral.

Jake liked it, and he thought maybe, just maybe, he even loved you.

“You want the truth?”

“Probably not—“ Immediately, Bradley regretted asking. “Nope, I actually don’t want to be any more of an accomplice than I already am.” Jake just grinned like a Cheshire Cat. Looking Bradley up and down before he spilled the very R rated and inappropriate beans.

“She was under Mavs desk, with my dick in h—“ Bradley couldn’t let Jake finish before he was covering his ears like a child.

“Oh my god! No shut up, I can’t know that!” He shoved his fingers in his ears and looked away. He couldn’t think of you like that, his little sister. He knew Jake was a goner, a deadman walking but Rooster was too. An accomplice to Jake's own stupidity. “No la la la la— I can’t fucking hear you!”

“You asked!!” Jake laughed to himself. “You asked what we were doing!”

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

Later that same day, Jake was heading to your place during his lunch hour. It was only a five minute drive from base on a good day. He should have known better than to rock up unannounced, but the line between appropriate and inappropriate behaviour was becoming far too blurry to really focus his moral compass.

“Iris?” Jake knocked damn well knowing you weren’t going to answer—if Mav had been right about anything it was that when you were in a foul mood you were sour. Jake’s presence probably wasn’t going to make your mood any less aggravated. “Iris open up!”

To Jake’s surprise, you answered. You couldn’t have reefed the door open any harder if you tried as Jake stood there taking in the sight of you. Clad in nothing but a little black bikini and Prada Milano sunglasses. Looking over them up at Jake as you tilted your gaze to look above where they sat on the bridge of your nose.

“Can I help you?”

“The fuck does Mav mean you quit the TopGun program? Are you mentally deficient or something!?” Jake pushed past you in the doorway, barreling in as his rage consumed him. “God you’ve done a lot of dumb shit recently Iris but quitting TopGun? That’s career suicide—“ You didn’t answer, you simply stood there, raising an eyebrow as you pushed your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

“If those guys, Krod and P:E and fucking Rebound are the Navy’s top one percent than I send my hopes and prayers to their families—“ You explained as you walked your way out towards the back deck. “They’ll be burying the bastards sooner rather than later and I for one, will be there to say they should’ve worked a little harder for their titles instead of manipulating the system in their favour.”

Jake hated to see you leave, but he loved to watch you walk away, your bikini bottoms left very little to his imagination.

“Now if you’ll excuse me Hangman, I was enjoying the sun and a nice glass of scotch before you rudely showed up at my dads house unannounced.” You turned, sinking a hand on your popped hip. “So unless you have someone interesting to say I’d shut the hell up and leave before dear old daddy comes home and finds you here, tainting his only daughter’s innocence.” Jake went to speak, he wanted to laugh and call your bluff and tell you how fucking stupid you were being. But you cut him off as he held his tongue and clenched his jaw. “And yeah—I can tell you to shut the hell up because you aren’t my superior anymore, stings knowing you’re the one who pushed me over the goddamn edge by dragging my ass into Admiral Simpson's office for that write up huh?”

“Oh don’t act like me doing my job had anything to do with the fact you were looking for an excuse to give up!” Jake shouted as he followed you out onto the back porch. “By the sounds of things you’d already made up your mind before I even decided you’d crossed the line between brat and insubordination.” You let Jake finish his rant before you looked at him with sinful eyes. Eyeing him up and down. Was there anything he didn’t look good in?

“What are you even doing here?” You asked through a sigh as you sat back down on the lounge chair you’d been posted up in the sun on before Jake arrived. Enjoying your day off. “Because I know you didn’t just come here to berate me for my decision to quit—you could’ve done that when I came to collect my stuff, you didn’t need to make a personal house call.” Despite wanting to pull you up by the hair on your head and drag you back to base himself, Jake just continued to undress you with his eyes as he undid the zip on his flight suit. Standing in your direct sunlight as he did so just to piss you off. “Jake, don’t be a pest fucking move your old ass—“

As Jake’s cock twitched against the fabric of his boxer briefs, undressing the very little clothing that covered you, he hatched a plan—a rather simple plan to have you biting your tongue and dragging your ass back to TopGun.

“I actually came to talk about last night.” He admitted, shimmying the arms off his body as he tied them around his waist. “I wanted to ask if you really meant what you said, about wanting more.”

“I don’t want shit from you if you’re gonna come in here ranting and raving about my problems and how I choose to deal with them.” You mumbled, pretending that you weren’t interested as Jake sank to his knees before you on the sun lounge. “But, if you must know, I wouldn’t technically be opposed to the idea of this being more than just sex, because unfortunately I’m hot for teacher.” You smirked as Jake grinned ear to ear at you as he sauntered up and hovered over you. Taking your lips hostage in a slow and sensual kiss that had you forgetting how to breathe for a second before he pulled away.

“I came here on my lunch break you know—“ You pretended to care, looking around as if you were trying to spot something. “What?”

“I didn’t see you bring anything with you?” You winked as you winded your legs. Looking up at Jake as he hovered over you. “You might just have to go hungry there, teach.” Jake caught your intentions as he lowered himself down between your legs. His dangerously dark, lust filled eyes never left yours as he did so. Dropping lower and lower till he was at eyeline with your just barely clothes cunt.

“I think I’ve got a pretty delectable meal right in front of me darlin—“ Jake purred as he spread your legs a little wider, drinking in the sight of your core nearly hanging out of those little black bikini bottoms. “And I’m absolutely ravished.” You snapped your knees together just as Jake slowly made his way forward, just scraping the tip of his nose as you giggled wildly.

“Too bad, it’s gonna cost ya.” You taunted, biting on your bottom lip as you eyed Jake off and spread your legs apart before him again, watching with awe as the crimson hume that crept across Jake's cheeks grew brighter and brighter with every passing second. “Walking Propaganda Poster Boys who pray on women half their age from conservative Texan families pay extra too.” Jake was speechless as you dragged him through the mud, the sad thing was it turned him on.

Perhaps Bradley was right from the get go—Jake Seresin had a thing for degradation.

“What’s a dining experience at the Iris Inn gonna cost me?” Jake growled as he slowly dragged the tip of his index finger up your calf and to your inner thigh. “Name your price—“ You hissed when Jake took the little string that kept your bottoms tied together and snapped it back against your hip.

“Ah—“

“Words Iris, use that bratty mouth of yours and tell me what it’s gonna cost.” Jake looked at you with lust filled eyes that had never been darker, keeping his trail to your core right on schedule as his fingers grazed the fabric that clothed your core. “I ain’t got all day Iris.”

“Your entire career, deadman.” You softly gasped as the pad of Jake's thumb danced softly over the fabric of your bikini bottoms, making your sensitive bundle of nerves ignite. “Ohhh—maybe even that won’t cover it.”

“Guess we’ll have to find out won’t we?” Jake asked as he pulled back the fabric of your bikini to reveal your soaked pussy. “Huh, you really get off on the idea of me going straight to hell for all this don’t you?”

“I touch myself to the thought of it every night.” You admitted as a wicked smile crept across your face. Jake chuckled to himself, he was a goner. “Touch myself thinking about all the ways I’ll ruin your life and I cum so hard when I remember you want me to.”

“Fucking hell Iris you’d make the strongest of men weak.” Jake sighed as he crept closer and dragged you forward to his face, sinking his teeth into your inner thigh as you unfit the sides of your bikini. “You’re poison—“

“And yet you keep coming back for more—“ You would always beat Jake at his own game, he knew his fate and accepted it. He kissed up your inner thigh slowly before finally landing right where you wanted him, where you needed him. Against your core in a feaverish moment of sudden ecstasy. “Oh fuck—!” Jake kissed and sucked against your glistening core, drinking in the taste of your nectar.

He’s been right, oh how you were a delectable meal and such a cuisine that was surely exclusive to the most exclusive restaurants. You were soft and sweet and all things in between as Jake looked up at you as he flicked his tongue against your clit. Reveling in the jolts of electricity he knew washed through your body whenever he flicked up.

“Jake—“ You sighed out as you let all your thoughts go. “Fuck baby feels so good.” You told him as you reached back to untie your bikini top, Jake watched through dark hooded eyes as he made you his lunch. His heart danced inside his chest at the sight before him, you peeled off your black bikini top to expose yourself fully in the backyard of your dads house. You knew what you were doing to him and Jake fucking loved it. “Eat my pussy Jake, just like that—“

“You taste so fucking sweet Iris, so sinful.” Jake growled as he pulled away, reaching up to coax two of his digits into your mouth. He paused at your bottom lip, deciding that to ask you to open would give you far too much power and if Jake knew anything about you it was that you had a power complex. So as Jake gripped at your chin and looked at you with stirn eyes—he told you what to do.

“Open.” And do it you did, without hesitation. Welcoming the two chosen digits into your mouth as you hummed and swirled your tongue around and gripped at your own tits. “Fuck Iris—“ Jake was about three point five seconds from ruining his flight suit. He had a Hop after lunch. “Good girl.” Jake praised you as he pulled his dripping digits from your mouth and slowly and ever so carefully, guided them past your dripping lips into your core. Stretching you to a nice full feeling as you arched your back and squeezed your tits all for Jake to watch as he got you off.

“Ohh, Ohh fuck Hangman—-“ Jake had never really been a fan of the calllsign Bradley gave him all those years ago. It was more of a personal attack on him and their once strained friendship than a nod to his personality, his professionalism. But as it dripped from your mouth like a siren song, Jake found a new reason to love it. “Jake fuck—feels so good, oh god.”

You sounded like every sin Jake had ever had. Vocalised into a reality playing out before him as he ducked his head back down to suck a pressure out of this world against your sensitive bundle of nerves, coaxing his fingers up against your velvet walls to create a feeling so pure and intense it had you singing out his name into the heavens above. Surely neither of you would be granted access after this. You’d both be sent straight to hell.

“Ahhhh fuck yes! Yes Jake!” You moaned out as you rolled your hips to grind against Jake's face as he lapped away at your cunt. His chin glistening with your arousal as he worked to finger fuck you. Drinking up all that you could give him.

“So fucking pretty aren’t you Iris.” Jake mumbled against your core as he buried his fingers to the hilt. “So pretty and gorgeous and fucking irritating—“ Jake moved to mark your inner thighs with love bites and bruises that would linger on your supple skin for days to come. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“Fuck off—“ You knew what was coming as Jake slowly moved back to your core, soft kitten like licks against your clit nearly had you breaking as you whimpered and whined and arched your spine. “Jake, I’m close! So fucking close.” It was the smirk that gave it away, the devilish, oh so endearing shit eating grin Jake sent you as he pumped his fingers inside you, hitting just the right spot to send you hurtling towards the edge of insanity. “JAKE! Oh Christ! Aauugghh—“ You were so close it hurt. “Please, please I wanna cum for you daddy.”

You saw the look in Jake's eye when you called him that. He hated that he loved it. He’d never been a ‘daddy’ guy. But with you? It felt right in the worst kind of im fucking your daughter way.

“Say you’ll come back to TopGun and I’ll make you cum Iris.” Jake mumbled as he sucked against your cunt. Curling his fingers up inside you in a come hither motion. “I promise baby, say you’ll come back and ruin those fuckers and I’ll make you cum so hard you’ll forget everything but my name.”

“You're a bastard!” Jake raised a hand to grip at your throat, applying just enough pressure on the sides of your neck to have your head spinning as you gasped and tried to hold onto whatever sanity, whatever control you had as your orgasm barreled towards you. “You—you fucking bastard.”

“Is that a yes?” Jake grinned as he lapped away at your throbbing bundle of nerves. “Say it Iris.” He growled as the tips of his fingers hit just the right spot with enough force to send you flying towards the sun. You couldn’t hold it even if you wanted to, which you didn’t.

“Ahhhh yes! Yes alright, alright you son of a bitch I’ll come back! just make me—“ You didn’t even need to finish your sentence and Jake was sucking against your clit so perfectly it had you arriving at your very dirty destination. “Ahh—oh god ahhhhh FUCK!”

Jake, in all his years had never heard such a beautiful sound. You always managed to surprise him every time you came. Everytime your body trembled at his touch, everytime your jaw hung slack as your eyes rolled and beautiful whimpers and moans and sighs of relief escaped in their droves. Releasing your neck from his hold just as your pushy fluttered around his now soaked digits.

“Oh my god you’re such an ass Seresin.” You sighed as Jake lapped the last of your sweet sweet nectar from your dripping cunt up all for himself before he rose up to take your lips hostage with yours.

“I gotta get going, thanks for lunch.” He mumbled as you enjoyed tasting yourself of his tongue. “I’ll see you later though when you come to reclaim your throne Mitchell.” You just rolled your eyes as Jake dropped his head, taking each of your nipples in his mouth one at a time before he pulled up and away. “Seeya soon—“

“What if you don't?” You called out, watching as Jake left you on the outdoor lounge chair to soak up the rest of the midday sun. Jake didn’t even look back over his shoulder to address you but you knew good and well he was smirking as you flipped him off.

“I will.”

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

“What’cha have for lunch Hangman?” Mav asked as he caught Jake in his peripheral vision. “You weren’t in the Rec room?”

“Nah I ate out today—“ Jake smirked, god he was going to hell. The only Heaven he’d be sent to, was when he’s alone with you.

Later that same afternoon about an hour or so after Jake had left, you sauntered on into the hanger you knew your dad would be in. Doing whatever it was that he did between his lessons. Low and behold Jake Seresin had been right.

“Hi honey.” Pete beamed, Bradley stood beside Maverick with a curious smirk on his face. Stupid mustache, hiding his upper lip. “I see you changed your mind?” Jake stood leaning against one of the empty desks. His arms nearly bulging out of black T adorning his stupidity perfect body.

“Yeah well—“ You sighed as you took your aviators off and placed them into the neck of your shirt. You were just in a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. Nothing fancy. Nothing too extreme for your meeting with Admiral Simpson. “You can either chock it up to downright stupidity—“ You paused, tucking your hands into the back pockets of your jeans as you watched Jake wink at you from behind your fathers shoulder. “Or post nut clarity.”

“IRIS!!” Pete scolded you as Bradley’s jaw hit the ground in second hand embarrassment as Jake's face turned a bright shade of crimson.

“My god, she’s your fucking daughter—“ Rooster sighed as he tried to scrub the last five seconds from his memory bank.

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

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imaginesxthevamps · 2 years ago

Note

OI OIII

can you do a smut about Brad getting a blowjob and him moaning and gasping???

Adventures on a boring party | Brad Simpson

Word count: +/- 2.1k

Date: 26/03/2023

Proofread: yes (language and grammar mistakes can still be present)

Warnings: smut (oral sex, m receiving), swearing

Tags: Brad Simpson, The Vamps, imagine, x reader, fanfiction, one shot, smut

A/N: Hello hello, I hope you like it :)) Thanks for your requests!!❤

______________________________

Brad gets out of his car, locking it up while walking away. The gravel rustles under his shoes as he is walking towards the building. In front of him there is an old but beautiful castle. A red carpet is rolled down the stairs which lead to the front door. He walks up the stairs which are also lit up by torches. A security man asks his identity to which Brad replies with his name. As he enters the building he can hear classical music echoing through the halls of the castle. With a sigh, he enters the ballroom where the event is taking place. He got an invitation from Jaguar, the car company, to this fancy party. Tomorrow there is a race not so far from the castle and they wanted to unite all the biggest car sports fans the evening before. It’s an exclusive party for sponsors, influencers, shareholders and the important people who work in the racing world. It has everything that an exclusive and fancy party should have: fancy food, classical music, and people in suits and fancy dresses. Despite all of it Brad is really not in the mood for such a fancy party although he has no choice.

Brad takes a glass of champagne from a tray and takes a sip. His eyes are scanning the room to see if he recognises anyone. With another sigh, he tries to mingle with the other people. This is really not his scene so he doesn’t know what to do. Should he talk to people or not?

‘You’re Brad Simpson right?’, someone taps him on the shoulder.

‘Yes, that’s me’

‘Nice to meet you, I’m Jason, one of the racers’, he introduces himself.

‘Nice to meet you Jason, so are you ready for tomorrow?’

‘Oh yeah I am, I’m also not staying long, I need a good night's sleep’

‘Wish I could say the same’

‘You don’t like these parties?’

‘No, it’s not really my thing but I don’t really have a choice since I’m sponsored’

‘Yeah I get that, just try to enjoy it a little bit, at least try the food, it’s the best part’, Jason laughs.

‘Maybe I should do that then’

‘I have to go, good luck mate, it was great meeting you’

‘Yeah, you too’

As Jason leaves Brad takes another sip of his glass. Following the guy's advice he makes his way to the table where the food is stalled out. He takes a few things to eat and he needs to admit that the food is not bad. He drinks from his champagne before trying some other things. When his glass is empty he takes another one from a tray.

Brad turns around and decides to leave the ballroom. He walks down one of the castle halls where it is quiet. A few people smile at him when they walk by. In the distance, he sees a girl who is staring at a painting that’s hanging on a wall. Her silhouette and her long hair look familiar. He steps closer and more of her features become visual.

‘Y/N?’, he asks surprised.

You turn around and you can’t believe your eyes. You can’t believe that he is standing here in front of you. It’s been years since you’ve seen him. If you remember correctly it’s 5 years ago since you’ve seen each other. Both of you were 22 at the time. You had a fling with Brad, not something really serious. Your relationship back then was more focused on sex and pleasure but you were young. Neither of you had ended things back then, you just grew apart. Brad went on a world tour and you went to study on the other side of the world. The contact was lost.

‘Brad? What are you doing here’, you ask surprised.

‘I got an invitation for this party, what are you doing here?’

‘My dad works in racing’

‘Yeah that’s right’

You can see that Brad is taking all of you in. His eyes are scanning over your body. He is looking at how your tight black dress is embracing your curves. He bites his lip slightly. You can’t also keep yourself from looking at him. You can see how his shoulders got broader just like his arms and chest. It’s only now that you realise how you’ve missed those chocolate brown curls. You swallow which Brad notices.

‘Maybe we should go back to the party’, you say.

Brad follows you back to the ballroom. When you enter it you see your dad. He is smiling and coming your way.

‘Hi Brad! It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you!’, He says and gives Brad a brotherly hug.

Your father and Brad always got along well. When he was at your house they would laugh and joke the whole evening. If they didn’t talk about cars they would talk about golf as your dad is also a golf fan. Luckily someone starts talking to your dad which gives you the opportunity to pull Brad away from your dad. You’re not really in the mood to listen to a conversation all night that only involves cars and golf.

‘What are we going to do now?’, Brad asks.

‘Dance?’

‘We’re surely not going to slow dance on this music’, Brad sighs.

‘Oh we are, you've got a better idea?’, you smile and you pull him to the place where a few other couples are slow dancing.

Brad takes you by the waist to dance. It feels weird to be here with him but it’s more fun than staring at a few paintings.

‘So, how have you been?’, Brad asks.

‘Good, I finished uni in California and now I’m working for a company in London. How have you been doing?’

‘We’re celebrating the band’s 10-year anniversary this year, it’s been going well

You smile at him not really knowing what to say. He is looking extremely hot and all you can think of his how much fun you two had back then. To be honest it was the best time of your life. Sometimes the two of you would do reckless things like driving around in the middle of the night or exploring places you weren’t really allowed to do that.

‘I’m bored’, you say.

‘You were the one who wanted to dance’, Brad laughs.

‘What if we go discover this castle?’

‘Are we allowed to?’

‘I don’t know but do we care?’

Brad smiles and both of you leave the ballroom again through the same door. You’re wandering through the halls of the castle. The details of the interior are impressive. You open a door that makes a lot of noise. Brad looks at you with a scared face.

‘Y/N, do you really want people to hear us?’

‘Oh come on Brad, you weren’t so scared when we did this years ago’

Brad sighs as you walk into a big room. You guess it’s a big dining room as there is a long table with chairs. Brad follows you as you inspect the room. You touch a statue and you hear Brad sigh again behind you.

‘Please, you’re going to break something’

To provoke him you sit down on the table and Brad rolls his eyes. He stands before you and you take his hands in yours in an impulsive action. Brad looks surprised but he doesn’t let go of your hands. You pull him closer until he is standing between your legs.

‘I’ve missed you Bradley’, you say.

‘I’ve missed you too y/n’

Brad stares into your eyes and you bite your lip. Your fingers are playing with his and you can feel the contrast between his warm fingers and his cold rings. Brad’s eyes never leave yours and it feels like time stands still. It feels like you and Brad are the only people on this world. Brad can’t handle it anymore and pushes his lips onto yours. His warm lips are moving against yours and you can taste the champagne on them. His tongue slips into your mouth and you moan in the kiss. Unaware you pull Brad closer to you and you’re grinding against his crotch. The anticipation is building up as the kiss is getting more heated. You can feel Brad getting hard which turns you on.

‘We should take this to another place’, Brad says out of breath.

‘The guests are staying in the other wing, I have a room there to stay the night’, you say.

You take Brad’s hand and make your way to the other wing. To go there you have to pass the ballroom again as it is on the other side. The halls on this side of the castle are more restored and the rooms are furnished as hotel rooms. You open the door of your room and walk in. You close the door when both of you are in. You turn around to Brad again and you start kissing him again. Your hand is going over his length which becomes even harder under your touch.

Gently you push Brad onto the bed so he is sitting at the end of it. You walk towards him and sit on your knees. You unbutton his pants and Brad helps you to get out of his pants and boxers. His dick is hard and almost touches his belly. Slowly your hand moves over his length and you get wet only looking at his dick. Brad is looking at you with his eyes filled with lust and you look at him while you take his cock into your mouth. You start to suck on the tip and Brad closes his eyes. You take it further into your mouth while you go up and down. Brad moans and throws his head back. You try to take his whole dick into your mouth but it’s difficult because of how big he is. You take him out of your mouth again and you pump him with your hand. Pre-cum is coming out of the tip and as soon as you take him back into your mouth you can taste it.

'Fuck y/n, your lips always feel so good around my dick', Brad moans.

While you're sucking on Brad's cock, your hand is going up and down at the base of it, giving him extra pleasure. To add to that you start to gently play with his balls with your other hand. Brad gasps from all the pleasure you're giving him.

Brad looks down on you to see how you're sucking his dick and he loves the view. He loves how your body looks in that tight dress. He loves the way you're being so desperate for him right now. Nobody could ever make him feel this good like you do.

'How I've missed these lips, take it all in baby', Brad groans and throws his head back again.

His moans are getting harder. You try to take him as deep as you can. His dick is hitting the back of your throat, almost making you gag. You can feel his dick twitching inside your mouth, indicating he is close. You're going up and down faster. Your tongue is playing with his tip, making him go crazy. One of Brad's hands is gripping your hair while the other is keeping him steady on the bed.

'Fuck y/n baby, I'm-, fuck', Brad moans out.

Loud groans are leaving Brad's mouth while his hot load is filling your mouth. You get his cock out of your mouth. His cum tastes salty but you swallow it. Brad looks at you and he smiles.

'Babe, this was amazing', he says.

You love the way he calls you babe, he used to do it all the time when you were together. You stand up and sit on his lap while you throw your arms around his neck.

'Only for you', you say smiling.

Brad kisses you softly this time. A meaningful kiss which tingles on your lips. His lips moving slowly against yours while his hands are on the small of your back. After the kiss you rest your forehead against Brad's.

'What do we do now?', Brad asks.

'I don't know, I don't-', you can't get out of your words.

'Tell me y/n'

'I don't want to lose you again'

Brad takes your face between his hands and makes you look at him. His eyes aren't dark and filled with lust anymore, now they are the brightest brown looking soft. A small smile is playing on his lips.

'I promise you, you won't lose me again princess', Brad promises.

Gently Brad kisses you again and it feels like your life lights up again. It's only now you realize how much you've missed him all these years.

______________________________

The Vamps requests are open

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topguncortez · 2 years ago

Text

Key: ☆ full fic, ♢ one shot, ⏃ drabble, ⏀series, ♰ AU

ANGST

✧ Anxiety Attack ♢ Jake Seresin x Female!Reader | Jake has been dealing with the aftermath of the Uranium Mission. warnings: anxiety, panic attacks, self violence (hitting and hair pulling), therapy in the military world is called 'Behavior Health'.

✧ Only for A Night �� Jake Seresin x Female!Reader | What was only supposed to be for a night, ends up being more than they asked for. warnings: unplanned pregnancy

✧ Does He know? ♢ Jake Seresin x Female!Pilot | You and Jake celebrate the success of the Uranium Mission, however the result of it was unexpected. warnings: cheating, infidelity, pregnancy, cursing.

✧ Never Forgive You ♢ Jake Seresin x Female!Reader | Your trust and love for Jake is not enough sometimes. warnings: cheating, angst, fighting, pregnancy, heartbreak

✧ Loveless Love ♢ Jake Seresin x Ex-Wife Simpson!Reader | Jake falls in love with someone who could never love him back. warnings: mentions of sex, cursing, heartbreak, mentions of infidelity.

✧ My Protector ♢ Jake Seresin x Female!Reader | Jake is usually subtle in the way he protects you, but he's not afraid to step in when needed. warnings: men, unwanted flirting, unwanted touching, mentions of drink drugging, verbal argument, cursing.

✧ An Ugly Beast ☆ Jake Seresin x Female!Reader | Addiction is a beast. An ugly, horrible, unbeatable beast. But the beast can be tamed. . . if you work for it. Warnings: drug addiction, alcoholism, suicide by alcohol, talks of suicide, cursing, talks about drugs, mentions of overdosing, mentions of physical and verbal abuse

✧ The Final Sunset ♢ Jake Seresin x Wife!Reader | Jake takes you to feel the sun on your skin one last time. warnings: death, sadness, cancer, grief.

✧ Hold My Hand ♢ Jake Seresin x Female!Reader | You get a phone call that no child ever wants to get, and as the "rock" of the family, you aren't allowed to break.

SMUT

✧ Hot Shot ☆ Jake Seresin x Female!Pilot | You and Jake are both two of the cockiest pilots to walk the halls of TopGun, and someone needs to be put in their place. warnings: SMUT, PIV, dumbifcation, unprotected sex, hair pulling, spanking, public sex

✧ The way you shake ♢ Jake Seresin x Female!Pilot | Rooster can't help but notice you are walking a bit funny, and there's a certain blond pilot to blame. warnings: smut, unprotected sex, dom/sub dynamic

✧ Squirt ♢ Jake Seresin x Female!Reader | Jake is determined to make you feel things like you've never felt before. warnings: unprotected sex, daddy kink

✧ Daddy's dumb (smart) girl ♢ Jake Seresin x Female!Reader | Sometimes work becomes too much and you need Jake to fuck every thought from your head. warnings: unprotected sex, choking, sex on the floor , name calling, teasing, tears, Jake is a condescending dom alright.

✧ In the Night ♢ Jake Seresin x Wife!Reader | Jake helps you live out one of your sexual fantasies. warnings: CNC, usage of sleeping pills (melatonin), talks of safe words, vaginal fingering, oral sex (F) receiving.

✧ Two at Once ♢ Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female!Reader x Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw | “How do you feel about two at once?” warnings: smutty, slash pairing (Hangster), dom/sub dynamic, brat taming dynamic, teasing, allusions of sex

✧ Power Bottom ⏃ Jake Seresin x Female!Reader | Jake likes to be in control, even when he's on the bottom. Warnings: pegging, spanking, mentions of Rooster.

✧ The Preacher's Daughter ⏃ Jake Seresin x Female!Reader | Jake's got a thing for the preacher's daughter. warnings: oral (m receiving), corruption kink, unprotected sex

✧ Hangman is coming ⏃ Jake Seresin x Female!Reader | Jake hears you calling for "Hangman" in your sleep, but evil be gone, Hangman is cuming. warnings: CNC, Jake gets handsy while reader is sleeping, fingering

✧ Professor's help ⏃ Professor Jake Seresin x Female!Reader | After hours with your professor turns into more than just a study session. warnings: oral sex (m receiving), throat fucking, dumbification, age gap

✧ Beg for It ☆ Professor Jake Seresin x Female!Reader | Jake makes you beg for him. warnings: teasing, dom/sub relationship, age gap, a lil p in the v moment, masturbation, voyeurism (slightly)

✧ Formal Wear ☆ Jake Seresin x Female!Reader | Jake gets his promotion and you want to celebrate him. warnings: allusions of sex, dirty talk, public sex

✧ Say No to This ☆ Jake Seresin x Female!Reader | How do you say no to something that feels so good? warnings: piv, unprotected (wrap it before you tap it kids), cheating, cursing, sprinkle of Angst

✧ Just Friends ♢ Jake Seresin x Female!Reader | Jake reminds you that what the two of you do is more than what friends do. warnings: smutty, suggestive language, public sex, oral sex (f receiving), Jake can't do feelings

✧ You're Mine ♢ Jake Seresin x Female!Reader | Jake tends to get a jealous when you show off what belongs to him. warnings: possessiveness, suggestive, a bit of Floydshaw (blink and you miss it), cursing, jealousy

✧ The Fundamental Right ♢ Jake Seresin x Bob Floyd | Bob isn't sure what they are doing, but he's pretty sure him and Jake are dating. warnings: jacking off, unprotected sex, mentions of anal sex.

✧ Bite Me, Seresin ♢ Jake Seresin x Female!Reader | Jake didn't want a roommate, but he got one, and now he can't get rid of her. warnings: fwb, someone has feeling, mentions of raw sex, mentions of oral, cursing, masturbation, nudity

✧ Same Ol Situation ♢ Jake Seresin x Female!Reader | You and Jake find yourselves in the same situation. . . however, someone might be developing feelings. warnings: smut, piv, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), mentions of pegging, fwb, cursing

✧ Take It ♢ Jake Seresin x Female!Reader | Jake can usually handle a bit of teasing, but as long as he gets what he wants out of it. Inspired by the scene where Hangman says his infamous "stop" line. warnings: teasing, age gap, oral sex (m receiving), public sex, head pushing, dirty talk, a dash of brat tamer jake, name calling, spit swapping, hair pulling, cursing, tears.

FLUFF

✧ Spin the Bottle ☆ Jake Seresin x Female!Pilot | how can one game of spin the bottle lead to a confession of feelings?

✧ Tug ♢ Jake Seresin x Female!Reader | It takes every ounce of will in Jake's body to get out of bed in the mornings

✧ Forehead Kisses ♢ Jake Seresin x Female!Reader | Jake helps you when the pain gets to be too much. warnings: chronic pain, arthritis, mentions of needle injections

✧ I Love You ♢ Jake Seresin x Bob Floyd | Bob loves Jake more than he would ever be able to realize. But sometimes those words are said too late. warnings: slight mention of religious trauma, slight mention of homophobia

✧ Speak Now ♢ Jake Seresin x Female!Reader | Jake gets a wedding invite from the girl he's still in love with. Based off of Speak Now (TV) by Taylor Swift. warnings: cursing, break-ups, runaway bride, miscommunication

✧ Untitled ♢ Jake Seresin x Female!Reader | Jake steps up in the place of your son's father, but you never had to ask him to.

✧ Weird Smiles ♢ Jake Seresin x Female!Pilot | You get braces at an older age, and Jake tries his best to make you smile.

EXTRAS

✧ Floydsin as Dads - HC Jake Seresin x Bob Floyd | warnings: pregnancy, mentions of needles, mentions of vomiting, mentions of failed adoptions, labor.

✧ Postpartum Depression - HC

✧ Christmas Moodboard

✧ Professor Seresin ⏀♰ Jake Seresin x Female!Reader | An asshole professor meets a girl who turns his world on its side. warnings: age gap (reader is 21, Jake is 35), cheating, mentions of parental death, mentions of fire, blackmail, detailed smut, power imbalance, slow burn

✧ Bad Medicine ⏀♰ Jake Seresin x Female!OC (Athena) | A wealthy Italian mobster sets up his daughter to marry the head of one of the last remaining mafias in California. The union was supposed to create and heal the damage between two families, but all it does is cause more harm than good. WARNINGS: drugs, guns, stripping, violence, abuse, fighting, prostitution, blood, alcohol usage, mentions of sexual assault, torture, character death, death, cops, stalking.

✧ What to Expect⏀ Jake Seresin x Kazanksy!Female | "Exes can have a baby, right?", a story in which Jake finds himself having a baby with the one person who can't even stand the sight of him. Slow burn, exes to lovers. warnings: pregnancy, vomiting, cursing, eventual smut, mentions of infidelity, fighting,

✧ Opposites Attract ⏀ Jake Seresin x Shy!Wifey | No one could quite explain it, it didn’t quite make sense, how the most arrogant, cockily annoying pilot managed to find some who was the complete opposite of him. But you know what they say, Opposites Attract.

✧ Court of Thieves ⏀♰ Jake Seresin x Female!OC | From a young age you knew that you would have a duty to fulfill, but you never imagined yourself to be betrothed to the Crown Prince of Brinefell. As the war rages around the precious city, is your devotion and love to the crown enough to keep you alive. warnings: arranged marriage, dark-romance themes, smut, cursing, death, war, blood, pregnancy.

#g's masterlists

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warnersister · 2 years ago

Text

Show Me The Way Home, Honey

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Simpson!Reader

Summary: The men at top gun love a bit of sweetness, turn out a bit of helicopter honey was just the right amount.

Warnings: mentions of injury, head injury, parental death, angst, allusions to smut, fluff, parental fighting, plane crashes, it's a happy story i promise.

Flashbacks In Italics -> not my gif

All the aviators were gathering by the pool table, each wondering why their peers from years before surrounded them at the Hard Deck. Hangman had just taken a shot against Coyote before standing up, having recognised a familiar head of hair.

“Well if it ain’t Honey!” You stood at the bar, chatting with Penny while sipping on your second beer. You were famous at top gun, being Beau Simpson’s daughter after all. You were training at top gun around the same time as the rest of the pilots in the room, however flying the Air Ambulance and mountain rescue helicopters.

You turned around to the unforgettable voice, the face you were expecting stood before you, smirk adorning his tanned lips. “Hangman, you got old.” A few laughed at your remark but he just chuckled, pulling you into a hug as you embraced him tightly. “Didn’t expect to see you here, darlin’.” He hummed. “Could same the same for you, Jake.”

Your fame here in California wasn’t necessarily due to your father’s rankings, but the name you had made for yourself. It was your own decision to join the Navy, despite your fathers wishes to keep your feet safely planted on terrafirma - away from the dangers of the sky. But after almost a decade of your adamance and training, you were off, deployed on battleships or costal air bases - send to retrieve wounded or stranded fighter pilots when their missions had been unsuccessful.

God it must’ve been a decade since you’ve seen everyone, but these naval aviators couldn’t forget a face that easily - at least not yours.

You were 24, fresh from your required nursing training and now ready to earn your wings. You were accompanied by your father on your first day, getting a prologued lecture that you had yet to start paying attention too. “And watch out for those fast jet pilots. Don’t take no shit off of ‘em.” You raised a brow. “Why what’s wrong with fighter pilots?” You queries, your walk nearing to a close. “Long story short, the think with their dicks.” You scrunched your nose. “Jesus, dad couldn’t you have phrased that better?” He just shrugged and turned your shoulders to face him properly. “But I’m serious, if they try anything come tell me.” You nodded, a small smile on your lips. “Have a great day sweetie, I love you.” He kissed your forehead and gave you a big hug. “I’m starting pilot training, not kindergarten - I’ve been through two years of naval training and six of nursing.” You laughed, just still reciprocated. “I know, but your still my little girl, the only person I got.” Your mum died a while back, it still stung but you both knew you could always rely on the other. “I know, Cyclone.”

You started walking towards the hangar, but heard behind you “it’s admiral to you, lieutenant.” You shook your head, and headed for your first day - the first step into the rest of your life.

The hangar was decorated accordingly, at least ten sparkling and fresh F-18s sat, just waiting for their aviator to fly it. You continued walking, silently passing an ongoing lesson as you spotted your own adjacent to the helipad.

The clicking of boots was loud against the floor, echoing off of the metal of the hangar - the curious minds of the navy’s best fighters looking behind them to find the cause of the sound and god, they weren’t disappointed. There you walked, a stern look on your face, hair trailing gently as a slight breeze blew through the build, aviator glasses sitting atop of your head, and eyes glittering with adoration as you examined the aircraft.

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin was one of those watching you, a low whistle exerted his lips. “What have we here?” As he said that, Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw lowered his glasses to get a better look than he was already getting. “Now she is mighty fine.” Hangman continued, but Rooster couldn’t say anything, the only thing leaving his mouth was a trail of drool - he wasn’t alone, quite a few of the trainees now distracted, rather than listening to their instructor.

There were three of you training to fly the copter. A girl called Darla and a boy named Simon were both in your shoes. Your first day you were taken for a ride by your own teacher, Hurricane.

You had heard a few of the students mention a nearby bar that was overly friendly to the top gun pilots, so you assumed it wouldn’t hurt giving it a once over that evening. “Penny?” You asked, and the bar hostess turned around at the sound of her name, eyes lighting up when she spotted you. “Oh my god I haven’t seen you since-” She trailed off when she ran over to hug you. “My mum passed, yeah… been off training I’m officially an aviator now.” She raised her brows. “Beau Simpson allowed his daughter to join the navy?” “Not really, but not got much’ve of a say in it now!” You laughed. “Make sure those fast jet pilots keep it in her pants.” She raised her brows. “Damn are they really that bad? Thought my dad was just being dramatic.”

Penny swung back around the busting bar and asked what she could get you. “Just a beer, please.” “Coming up, sweetie!”

You took your drink and headed to the juke box, opting for ‘you've lost that loving feeling’ by The Righteous Brothers. You always loved that song, your dad playing it you when he spoke about when he himself was a top gun graduate. “You lost that lovin’ feeling, sugar?” You heard from beside you. There stood a tanned man, broad shoulders and toned arms that he was definitely flexing, a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of aviators to accompany the moon beyond the windows. “Ain’t lost it just yet.” You replied, taking a drink from your glass. “Names Bradshaw, call sign Rooster.” He offered his hand. “Simpson, call sign Honey.” You took it but instead of shaking it, he brought it to his lips and kissed it gently. “Mhm, sweet light honey, I get the name.” You laughed at the man. “Good to meet you, Bradshaw.” “Whatcha flying?” He asked. “How’d you know I’m flying?” “Saw ya in the hangar.” “Stalking me now?” “Always been drawn to the gorgeous ones.”

You eyed him, before replying. “Helicopters. I’m a nurse, you?” “F-18s, honey.” These were the ones you were warned about, the fighter pilots. But still, you were your fathers daughter - never one for really listening to instructions. “Using my call sign now? Could've at least bought me a drink first.” “Ain’t a call sign more like an observation. PENNY! ANOTHER FOR THIS MIGHTY FINE GAL, PLEASE!”

“How ya been?” He leant his arm against the bar, trapping you slightly. “I’m good hangman, I’m very good, you?” He chuckled and hummed in agreement.

you had been a member of top gun for a few weeks now, and you were enduring a PT session, courtesy of Hurricane. "Up, down." Push ups were gruelling after a full day of strength training, you'd been training so long even some of the fighters were calling it a day. through your peripheral you noticed someone perch beside you and you could only guess who it was when they started doing push ups at double the rate that you were going. "Give it up, Hangman." you huffed, pushing yourself down again. "Come on honey, double time!" and he nudged his hip against your own, sending you off balance. "JAKE! FOR GODS SAKE!" you groaned, keeling over and hitting him.

"Stay away from my pilots, jet boy." Hurricane grunted. "You're dismissed Honey, great work today." "Thank you, captain." Hangman offered his hand once you had gotten your breath back and you took it, heaving you up. he pulled you so close that your chest smashed against his. "Woah if you wanted to kiss you, just had to say darlin' after all, you're looking mighty fine." You rolled your eyes and pushed him off - "In your dreams, Seresin." "You're certainly in my dreams." He slung an arm around your shoulder and winked at you, escorting you to the showers before he had to leave you.

"You finally shake off the leach?" A woman also in the showers asked, a sarcastic smile on her lips. "Only thing stopping him was the female sign on the door." You replied and both shared a laugh, "Phoenix, you must be the famous Honey." "That's my name," You grinned. "You gonna be down at the Hard Deck tonight?" You thought for a moment. "Sure, see you there."

"Well how-howdy little, lil lady!" A voice exclaimed from behind you and you spun around at the voice. A little boy wearing a small pair of western boots, belt wrapped around his waist about three times to hold up the flared jeans he was wearing, vest and a pink Hawaiian shirt hanging open. He tipped his cattleman hat, and lowered his aviator glasses that were about a hundred sizes too big for him, almost falling off of his nose when he moved to rest his hands sassily on his hips. You knelt in front of the boy and gasped, raising your hand and fluttering your eyelashes as you feigned flattery. "Well hello handsome, don't you look nice?" He dropped his facade and giggled, stomping his little feet. you grabbed the boy as you stood up and sat him on the bar, keeping your hands on his waist so he didn't fall.

Hangman cleared his throat. "Who's this?"

you were stood at the pool table playing against Coyote while he was actively trying to flirt with you, just humming when he was bragging about some trip himself and hangman had managed to pull off on their flight today, before you were saved by Phoenix brining you a drink over. 'Life saver' you had mouthed to her, and she just nodded with a wink, pulling you away when you had won the game, Coyote much too busy trying to swoon you to realise the eight ball had already been played. "Hey, darlin'!" You turned to see Rooster, smirk adorning his face as he approached you. "Hey Brad," he began to engage in conversation before everyone's attention was drawn to where Penny's voice directed. "Beau, didn't think I'd see you anytime soon!" He laughed and hugged her, "Still human Pen, just getting better pay." All top gun members throats went dry, their relaxed evening seemingly turning into a drill session within seconds. he looked at the group and waved you over with a smile, everyone's jaws hanging open when he pecked your forehead and started up talk. "Hey dad!"

"Holy shit." Payback groaned. "Simpson, of course." Bradley said. "Well, you know what they say - get the father to like ya, get the daughter." Hangman said as he began approaching the two of you. "No one fucking says that, Bagman." Phoenix remarked, but he was away before he could be stopped.

"Admiral!" Hangman laid a hand on your shoulder and grinned at his superior, your fathers eyebrows shooting up as he looked between the two of you. you did a small eyeroll before shrugging the hand off of your shoulder and looked on, amused as he tried to sweettalk your dad.

you were soon distracted, though by a sweet tune emitting from the bar's ancient piano. you looked to see Bradley playing the starting chords to an infamous Jerry Lee Lewis song and you ran along to join him, pushing across the bench with your hip to simultaneously sing.

"GOODNESS, GRACIOUS, GREAT BALLS OF FIRE!"

"What'd I tell you about fighter pilots? They're bad news." Your father grumbled under his breath as he drove you back to your temporary home. "They mean well." you hummed, but turned your head against the head rest to look at him. "I'm also not stupid- humouring Hangman is just funny." There was silence for a moment. "What about Rooster?" "What about him?" "I've seen those eyes he looks at you with." "What eyes, dad?" You scoffed with a laugh. "You know, those ones." You turned back to face the darkened road. "They're the only eyes he's got."

Before you could respond to Hangman, the boy groaned loudly. "Mama, I'm thirsty!" He thumped his boot against the bar slightly with a pout at those quivering lips. "Hey, what'd I tell you about stomping?" You hummed, tone gettng sterner. "Don't stomp the foot unless i want a boot in the but." He giggled at the final word. You smiled at him, glad he listened to you at his little tantrums. "You're just like your daddy." You rolled your eyes. "Now what can i get my little cowboy to drink?" "Orange juice please, mama!"

"Mama?!"

After thirty weeks of aggressive training, you had finally been out on several 'dummy' rescue missions. "So today, pilots we'll be focusing on-" The siren which had laid dormant since you arrived at top gun started bleating loudly with an iterative red beacon, accompanied by a female voice overing the neighbouring intercom. "Requested: lieutenant Simpson, Honey, lieutenant Pierce, bear, lieutenant Shirley, Temple, two F-18 fighter jets down at Toro Canyon Park, immediate medical backup required." The Captain looked at you guys. "Show time pilots, show me what you've got." And before you knew it, you were in the air and navigating your way towards the billowing smoke. You landed just off of the treeline, and managed to find the wreckages rather quickly - but it wasn't the planes you were concerned about, it was the pilots.

Two parachutes 100 feet away from one another, seemig like a collision below the allowed guidelines, you were guessing a mock dog-fight, "I've got this one." You ran towards one of the victims and your peers headed to the other, each carrying your medical bag.

you peeled to parachute away from them, and gasped when you saw a knocked out Rooster laying motionless on the grass. "Bradley!" You shook his shoulders, seeing no signs of response so moving him into the recovery position. After checking there was no obvious nor outstanding damage to his head, you removed his helmet to see a nasty gash bleeding right above where his helmet had cracked. "Brad," You kept talking, attempting to make him conscious. "Stay with me, Bradley." you began to apply pressure to where the bleed was, making a make-shift bandage covering the top of his skull until you could get him back to base.

"Hey Honey" you heard his voice rasp as he attempted to raise to his elbows but you pushed him back down. "Hi Roo, just gotta stay there for me, got a nasty gash on your head here." You explained, resting his head against the ground. "You're fuckin' gorgeous." He giggle, looking at your eyes with a dreamily-dazed expression. "Okay, Brad seems like a concussion." "No, no, you're the prettiest woman I've ever seen, wanna marry ya." He continued to blurt out. you tried to ignore the fluttering of butterflies in your gut, just shaking your head. "You don't know what you're sayin' Brad, just gotta stay still for me." You secured a neck brace. "No i know what i'm saying, i wanna take you out and propose and fuck ya so hard that you scream, then ill make love to ya so we have our own little Bradshaw-" He continued to mumble. you breath faltered and your heart skipped a beat at the thought. "There you go, Bradley. Ready to get you home." You secured him as Temple came over to help you, heaving up the other end of the stretched, and moving back to the helicopter, Bradley shutting his eyes in the meantime.

"Who was the other?" You asked. "Hangman" she replied with a scoff mixed with a laugh as you joined her. "Shocker. He injered too?" You asked and she shook her head no. "Was sat up awake when we got to him, damaged ego but nothing else - still taking him to medical to get a once over though." You nodded in response, giving the thumbs up Bear when Rooster was secured. Hangman took a sip of his complementary water, "Hey, Honey" You nodded. "Hangman" "What's up with Bradshaw?" "Concussion, head trauma, need to get back to medical to confirm anything else." he leant forward and placed a hand on the centre of your back and surveyed Rooster. "Back off, Hangman." He raised his hands with a chuckle, before moving backwards and allowing you to work.

You'd worked some overtime that day to wait with Bradley and make sure he could get discharged that evening so that's why you were sat beside him, having just replaced his glucose drip feeding into his arm. The clocked ticked over to eight but you didn't mind, you were move than happy to watch the sunset outside of the window in silence, especially beside Bradley - even if he's knocked out cold.

A sudden cough withdrew you from your thoughts as Rooster's eyes fluttered open. "Hey, sweetheart." "Don't you dare sit up." You warned with a glare, noticing the way his arms shifted below him and he relaxed again with a small smile. "Now this is a view I could wake up to everyday." He said. "Yeah, the sunset's beautiful-" "No, I mean you, I could wake up to you everyday." He spoke softly and cut you off, looking at you with a gentle stare.

"How are you feeling?" You ignored his statement. "I'm okay, seriously, just a bit tired." You smiled. "I stitched up your head, so no flying because you also suffered a concussion-" "I meant what I said." You stopped talking and gave him a questioning expression. "I'm in love with you." "Bradley-" He reached up and kissed you softly and you relaxed into it. "You been growing a moustache, Bradshaw?" "Do y' like it?" You hummed as you nodded. "Good 'cause it's stayin'."

"Yes, I'm his mom, aren't I baby?" You pinched his cheek and asked Penny for an OJ "Oh my! I didn't realise there was a big scary cowboy in my bar, here's your juice box, sir." Penny curtseyed at your son. "Much obly-obul- oby-lysed obliged, ma'am" He smiled, blowing bubbled into the carton through the small straw.

"Who's his dad-" "Nick! Buddy, what'd I tell ya about running from the truck!?" voice bellowed from the doorway, you turned to your husband, who's eyes softened at the sight of you when he removed the aviator glasses from his face. He walked over and grabbed you waist, pulling you flush against his body and leaning down you kiss you lovingly. "Oh I get it, you saw a mighty fine lady and decided she was more important than sticking with your poor old dad, I get it." He said to your son, nipping at your neck with his teeth.

Hangman gritted his teeth and forced a smile and acknowledged you husband, "Rooster."

You spent the next three months sneaking around with Bradley, hidden winks, ghost-like touches, stolen kisses, and honestly a few on-base fucks. All secret until one day your dad had decided to visit your medical station, where you were laid on the bed against Bradley's shoulder while he left kisses in your hair and drew shapes on your hips. "Hey hon-" You father walked in and the two of you immediately jumped off of one another. He froze in the doorway, "What the fuck!" He about-turned on his heels, slamming the door shut behind him before storming off. "Oh god-" You stood up, but was pulled back by Bradley. "He was gonna find out eventually," "He's gonna disown me, Brad-" You had never seen you father that mad before.

"Bradshaw." The group heard from behind their lesson. "Admiral," Rooster turned to see him, and the group hollered like a group of school-kids teasing the man as he was lead away from the hangar and towards Admiral Simpson's office. They sat in silence momentarily, Cyclone staring out of the window and taking deep breaths, assumingly trying to calm himself.

"What're you playin' at, Bradshaw?" He asked after a while. "Excuse me, sir?" He turned towards Bradley - crossing his arms over his chest. "My daughter, seriously?! My only fucking daughter?" His tone of voice rose with every syllable. "With all due respect, sir-" "No, you do not get to talk. My daughter if the only thing I have in life and the only thing I can really protect her from now she joined the navy is scum like you." "Scum?" "You fast-jet pilots are all the same. Can't keep your dicks in your pants, well I'm telling you now - you stay the fuck away from her-" Bradley cut him off. "If I'm not mistaken, you were once, too a fast-jet pilot and that means you lived up to your own assumptions, and I know she's the only one you got because your wifes's gone," "Shut your mouth Rooster, and listen-" "No-" Rooster stood up, his chair being shoved abck against the wall behind him. "You listen. We may not've been together that long, but I fucking love her and I wanna marry her whether you like it or not, maybe you should look at yourself as a fahter, she's been stayin' with me, balling her eyes out for the past week 'cause the only person she's got left ignores her calls and pretty much disowns her! That's your fuckin' problem, now if you dont mind, Admiral, I'm goin' home to the love of my fuckin' life and you have absolutely no authority to stop me." Bradley spat with venom, slamming the door shut behind him and heading home to you.

Cyclone gained a lot of respect for Rooster, that day.

"Hello," Your dad walked into the hangar where you were with Bradley and the two of yours conversation end quickly as you look towards your father with a blank and unreadable expression. "Sweetheart I'm so sorry," "I don't want your apologies, dad." You grunted. "Want me to leave, hon?" Bradley asked, but your father answered him instead "no, i need you here too." "Look since your mom died your the only thing I have I'd live in rags on the street if it meant you were happy, i couldn't stop you joining the navy and i was so scared, what if something happened to you? And i knew from working here for nearly a decade what the aviator reputation was. When i saw you with Rooster i felt I'd failed the last part of you i could protect. but i know, you're not a little girl anymore and I shouldn't have reacted that way, I'm sorry."

You said nothing, but stood up and hugged him tightly, tears apparent in your eyes. "It's alright, sorry for going against your wishes." You reciprocated, "You are a Simpson after all." You both laughed, and your father held out an arm. "Come on Bradshaw, I can deal with you as a son-in-law, I guess."

"Bagman." You husband nodded, mouth pursing into a thin line. "He yours?" Bradley grinned, cockily. "He sure as hell is, aint ya, Nick?" "Yeah, dad!" The boy giggled.

"Er, I think Coyotes callin' me." And he walked away, to absolutely no one as Bradley chuckled victoriously and snaked his arms around you. "You scared him off, Brad." "Good, shouldn't even be lookin' at ya, you're all mine." He pecked your cheek, pulling yourself and your son along with you, and towards the piano, still sat in its spot in the Hard Deck.

It was graduation day, all the top gun graduated gathered to celebrate, Bradley raising his trophy above his head smugly, showing it off to his fellow pilots and the accompanying civillians.

"Bradshaw, congrats on getting top gun." Cyclone approached him. "Thank you, Admiral." He thought for a moment. "Can I have your blessing?" Cyclone looked at him, confused. "Can I marry her?" He was nervously sweating, gulping on his saliva and pulling at the collar on his neck. Your father immediately smiles and shook Bradley's hand. "Of course you can."

Your wedding day was like no other, a runway close to the ocean, a flyover from Phoenix and a few others from Top Gun, your dress was gorgeous, Bradley cried as you walked down the isle, when your father gave you away, when you said your vows, he never stopped crying. God, he was over the moon happy. "I love you, Honey." "I love you, Rooster."

even your honey moon was pure bliss, although the resort was gorgeous you hardly left the hotel room, Bradley too busy fucking you into the sheets and trying to put a baby to you just like he had promised when you had recovered him from that botched training exercise.

Now here you were, perched on the leg of your husband, your four year old son singing along to the tune as Bradley sang to him, playing the piano simultanous to circling your waist.

"GOODNESS, GRACIOUS, GREAT BALLS OF FIRE!"

and Nick had called it a night, you and Bradley said goodbyes to your friends at the bar who had also been called back to top gun, you saying goodbye to Maverick when your husband wasn't looking, you headed to the truck. "How about we get home and I fuck another baby into ya'?" Bradley asked against your lips, between desperate kisses. "Take me to bed or loose me forever, Rooster." "Show me the way home, Honey."

And the men all stood there in silence, sickened to their stomachs, their sweet Honey stolen away by no other than Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw. Damn.

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