#fun with the flyboys (and friends)

[thatsrightice]

✨ fun with the flyboys (and friends) ✨

[callsignthirsty]

Chapter 3: Behind the Door

Pairing: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky x F!Reader x Ron "Slider" Kerner Summary: Interrupting Iceman. Word Count: 4100 Warnings: Smut, bets and wagers, semi-public sex, fingering Chapter: 3/4 Minors DNI Previous Chapter

Slider's head whips around, shoulders drawn tight toward his ears as the crash of the door startles you both.

"Kerner!"

The split-second of terror subsides with that voice.

Ice.

Slider grunts, stubbornly diving back between your thighs. A man on a mission.

"I know you're up here, and I'm giving you to the count of three."

"No," you whimper, hips rocking against Slider's fingers, urging them to work faster. "Don't stop."

"One."

Instead of responding, Slider's breath ghosts over your clit as he presses two fingers into your cunt, curling them to pinpoint your sweet spot and hurtle you toward the edge.

The click of Ice's shoes is loud as he stalks toward you. "Two."

"So good," Slider hums against your slick skin. You squeeze your eyes closed, keening at the praise. "Almost there, baby."

Sli hisses as fingers fist in his short hair and yank him from between your legs.

"Three."

You whimper at the sudden loss of stimulation and the pour of cool night air over heated skin.

Slider has the audacity to flash Ice a smug smile. "Oh," he says as if he hadn't known the two of you were no longer alone. "Hey, Ice."

Pale eyes narrow as if asking Slider if that's the game they're going to play, then Ice pulls a tissue from his pocket and holds it to his RIO. "You've got lipstick on your face."

Slider's tongue peeks out to lick his lips. "That's not the only thing on my face."

Ice doesn't dignify him with a response, only releasing Slider when he stands and steps back to give you enough space for Ice to resettle you—steadying you on your own two feet and smoothing wrinkled velvet before procuring another tissue to help clean up the rouge smudged beyond the bounds of your lips.

Once you're deemed presentable, Ice descends the steps with his hand wrapped around your wrist, guiding you with an insistent tug that makes you feel more like an insolent child than his date. You want to stamp your feet as Ice assures you that he only needs to talk to a couple more officers he wants to speak with before you can get out of there.

Between the forced separation through staggered travel to D.C. and the night's two encounters—both of which had taken you to the very edge before leaving you high and dry—you're at your limit. So, to say you aren't paying attention to the conversation is an understatement. How are you supposed to pay attention to anything when you're oscillating between the jitters of unsated arousal and lightly filtered frustration?

Because who the hell does he think he is—do they think they are—to draw you into their little macho pissing contest? It's a wonder Iceman and Slider can both fit into the cockpit with their egos so blown out of proportion.

What should it matter in the end? They know you're going home with both of them.

Not that you get to say any of this. Instead, you're left to stew with empty eyes, a pinched smile, and a clenched fist at Ice's side as he makes a good impression on a commander. You're scraping the barrel with each half-hearted laugh at the officer's dull jokes, the Brut in your glass swirling between your fingers untouched. Each shift of your legs brings you closer to angry tears as the spit between them turns tacky, the microabrasions from Slider's stubble smarts reminding you of your lack of undergarment and the dissatisfied, borderline painful feeling of emptiness.

But it'll be a cold day in hell before you let any tears fall. You have your own pride to manage, and besides, no one wants to mingle with the serviceman whose date's eyes burn a tear-stung red.

"How much longer?" you ask Ice once the commander leaves.

Ice gives you an assessing look, eyebrows pulled down, and his head lightly tilted. You can't tell if he feels bad about what he's putting you through or is confused by your shortness of tone. "Impatient?"

You scoff, barely repressing the urge to cross your arms. Instead, you take a sip of your Brut, nose wrinkling as it bursts bitter across your tongue. "Whatever," you huff, done with the conversation and resigning yourself to more of the same. Ice had said there were "a couple" officers he wanted to talk with, after all.

Ice draws a deep breath in through his nose; lips pursed as he looks up to the ceiling. You know he's looking for the right words. You're still determining what those words would be. You know for a fact he won't find them painted on the ceiling.

Lucky for you—because you're not done being upset with him yet—Ice can't pinpoint what he's looking for before you're interrupted.

"Woah!" a familiar blonde excuses, bumbling into Ice and nearly spilling his beer on matching whites. "Sorry about that, still got my sea le– oh! Ice, hey!" Excuse dropped as a beamish grin overtakes Wolfman's face, cheeks tinged pink with drink.

"Wolf," you giggle as Wolf pulls you into a better mood with a friendly hug. It's hard to be all doom and gloom when Wolf's involved; he's a veritable ray of sunshine. "Where's 'Wood?"

"Pfft," he snorts. "Where's anyone? I mean, 'Wood's somewhere with his girl, but one minute I'm with Sli and Chip, the next Sli's gone and Chip's found himself a pretty little thing to dance with." He shrugs, not looking too plussed about his situation.

"I'll dance with you, Wolfie," you jump to offer. "Ice is being boring anyway."

Ice frowns. Wolf laughs. "Who am I to say no to a lady?" he asks, pulling you into an off-kilter twirl. "Don't worry, Ice, she's in good hands!" he calls over his shoulder as you practically drag him toward the dancefloor.

What Wolfman lacks in prowess, he makes up for in enthusiasm. By the time Hollywood and his fiancée find the two of you on the dancefloor—not a surprise since 'Wood and Wolf are practically connected at the hip—you're a little breathless from trying to keep up.

It's a good time, but you can only be so distracted, and it's only a matter of time before you begin scanning the crowd. Either you'll find Slider, or he'll find you, but you'll be damned if he doesn't finish what he started.

You know Ice has people he wants to impress and a ladder he's trying to climb, but shouldn't you be at the top of his list? With this thought at the helm, it isn't long before you spot a head of brown curls that towers above the rest. You rock onto your tiptoes to feed Wolf a lie—bathroom—and push through the crowd alone.

Except as you get closer, it becomes glaringly apparent that this tall brunet is not Slider.

You scowl at no one in particular when you come up empty-handed.

As you decide to keep searching until you find Slider—and, ultimately, relief—someone grabs you from behind.

You whirl around, ready to smack the person's hands off of you.

It's Pete.

You smack him anyway.

"Ow!" Pete yelps, more from surprise than pain. You didn't hit him that hard. "What the hell?!"

"Pete Mitchell, who do you think you are grabbing a lady–"

"You're hardly a lady."

"–from behind like that. You almost gave me a heart attack!"

Pete disarms you with a light pinch to your side that has you clamping your arms against your sides to protect against further tickling. "Where're Tweedledee and Tweedledum? Didn't think I'd catch you without one or the other."

You suppress a roll of your eyes. "Who knows."

"Sooo," Pete drawls a bit awkwardly, "does this have anything to do with the weirdness going on between the three of you?"

"Oh my god. You know," you groan, unable to stop yourself from hiding your face in your hands. How embarrassing.

"I don't know-know," Pete's quick to correct, "and I don't want to. But I know something's up."

This isn't something you're delving into with your brother. "It's nothing. Forget it."

"Doesn't seem like nothing if you're avoiding them."

"Like you're avoiding Penny's dad?" you snark back. Deflecting. "I'm surprised you decided to stick around."

"He's old. It's probably past his bedtime," Pete says confidently, a smile tugging at his lips. "The night's mine."

"Whatever will you do with this newfound freedom?" you tease.

Pete gives a half-shrug, surveying the room. "I'm sure some poor officer brought his daughter so she could meet the love of her life."

You don't bother holding in a mocking laugh. "And that's you?"

"No." Pete makes a face. "But I can be her something for the night."

"Ew," you grunt because you so do not want to get into that with your brother. "I need a drink."

A hand catches your elbow as you turn. "Going somewhere?"

You refuse to look as you shake Ice's hand off and continue walking.

"So you're going to ignore me." It's a statement.

"Don't you have other people to talk to?"

Ice reaches for your elbow again, turning you so he can meet your eyes with his own. "I want to talk to you."

"That's my cue," Pete mumbles as he slinks into the crowd, presumably to find trouble.

Neither you nor Ice move, and your stomach roils as his jaw sets, his Adam's apple bobbing. "You're mad at me."

Part of you wants to tell him off. Instead, you shake your head. "I'm not mad. I'm frustrated."

"Okay," Ice says, with a curt nod, his shoulders—which had been bunched—rolling back as he becomes more sure of himself. "I can work with that."

Something about the way he says it rankles you, and you sneer. Earlier, you'd been all aboard hanging off Ice's arm, but now you're wound tight enough to burst, and all you want to do is take a hot bath. And now that he's made you this way, you're something that needs to be dealt with.

"Let's grab some fresh air," Ice says, loud enough to settle any eavesdroppers as he leads you toward the outdoor courtyard with a gentle but commanding grasp on your elbow.

But you pass by the turn for the courtyard.

"Where are you taking me?" The smell of cigar smoke thins as you walk along less-traveled hallways.

"I'm taking care of it," he says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world and continues to drag you after him.

Venturing further from the intended party spaces, the lights dim. You doubt the venue means for you to be down here.

Instead of voicing these thoughts, you scoff. "Helpful."

Making sure you're alone, Ice pulls you down a deserted hallway. "You're frustrated. I have people to talk to," he says slowly, sparing you a glance.

You frown. There goes Ice, talking about other people. Again.

He beelines for two unassuming doors, reaching out to the first, but its handle jiggles. Catches. Locked.

"I'm taking care of it."

Before you can challenge that assertion, Ice steps to the side and grabs the handle to the second door, marked STAFF ONLY.

It clicks.

Ice pushes you inside, following close behind.

The light coming through the foot of the door isn't enough to tell you where you are. But the clinical, electric-orange antiseptic smell of cleaning supplies invading your nose, singeing the hairs, is more than enough to give it away.

When you cross your arms over your chest, something falls to the ground with a wooden clack! "By dragging me into a janitor's closet?"

"Well, you said you'd be good for me, but that didn't last long."

You reach for where the handle must be, but Ice anticipates your moodiness and moves to intercept, deflecting your hand. "But the bet was that Slider couldn't get you off." His breath fans your face as he leans in, so you tilt your head away to avoid his lips. Stubborn. Undeterred, he kisses the long line of your neck, and the ghost of soft lips has you holding back a gasp. "So I'm taking care of it."

"What if it doesn't want to be taken care of?"

Sharp teeth are a shock beneath the hinge of your jaw. "Don't be a brat."

A strangled moan trips past your lips as he catches you off guard.

You don't have to see Ice to know he's smirking. "Noted." Then his hand is cupping your breast. "So, are you going to let me take care of you or not?"

You're not proud of how quickly you crumble, but it's like a switch flips. You hope Ice is okay with the whiplash because after an entire night of teasing, you're desperate for relief. "Please," you whimper, pushing yourself further into his orbit. You want so bad it hurts.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I've got you." Ice captures your lips in a heated kiss—nipping at your bottom lip so you hiss and open up for him. He knows what you need, and he's (apparently) going to give it to you.

Your fingers, clumsy in their haste, scramble for Ice's belt, but he brushes them aside. "This is about you. I'll get mine later," he says, tilting your head to the side so he can track wet kisses up to the spot just below your ear, electricity sparking down your spine as teeth tug at the lobe. "When I lay you out on my bed."

A high-pitched, excited moan is your answer, interrupted by Ice's fingers over your lips. "You've gotta be quiet," he purrs, voice low in your ear. "Wouldn't want anyone to hear us."

"Then kiss me." He does. And as you breathe in deep, the whole situation makes you feel like you're back in high school: shelving digging into your lower back like you're sneaking around, trading uncoordinated kisses in the janitor's closet with David Hodges until your brother finds you and rips poor David away for an ass-beating. But infinitely better.

Ice's lips are familiar. Urgent and addictive against your own as he swallows your whimper—nothing like David.

Ice pinches your fat bottom lip between his teeth before releasing it with a slick smack. You suck in a sharp breath, lashes fluttering open to look up at the shadow of him in the dark. "So pretty," he growls, fabric rustling as he hastily cuffs the sleeve of his jacket and pushes it up to his elbow to keep it safe from what he has planned.

Handfuls of velvet are bunched around your waist so you can spread your legs more freely, and Ice can slot his hand between them.

Threading your fingers through his hair, you return his lips to yours. You both groan from the kiss—you from the relief of his hands on you, the promise of a sweet release; him from how wet and needy you are (Slider's work, really, but Ice seems keen to reap the benefits).

When you break apart to gasp for air, Ice husks, "I'd get my mouth on you." And it conjures the image of Slider's wicked brown eyes looking up at you from between your legs, your cunt throbs. God, you want that. "Too bad I can't smell like pussy while I'm talking to the brass." But he allows himself the indulgence of a single taste, bringing fingers slick with your arousal to his lips.

You shake your head, unsure if his eyes have adjusted enough to see you. "Unprofessional," you agree, dizzy as his fingers plunge back into your heat. The heel of his palm grinds deliciously against your clit, his fingers working with the frantic cant of your hips as you chase a high that's walking the line of pain in its evasion of you. A steady, unignorable ache.

Ice drags his nails over the dense fabric covering your tits, your nipples pebbling at the faux cool sensation. "Tell me what you need," he whispers against your lips.

Relief is so close the air is thick with it. It tastes like Lysol. You stutter out a breath, and it morphs into a quiet whine. "Just like that," you mewl. "Keep touching me like that."

"Yeah?" Ice teases, a third finger sneaking into you and zeroing in on your sweet spot, thumb coming up to rub circles into your clit. What little light there is in the closet glints off the sharp point of his teeth as his lips part. "You're going to cum on my fingers," he declares, and your heart skips a beat when it jumps into your throat. "Then, you're going to go back to being my good, pretty girlfriend while I talk business," he presses a teasing kiss to the corner of your lips, and you can't contain a needy, lilting whine, "and no one will know you needed to cum on my fingers just to make it through the night."

"Oh god," you sob, nails digging into the starched fabric of Ice's jacket. You're right there. Liquid flames lick at your core, your tummy tied in knots and thighs jumpy as Ice speeds up his fingers, a muffled squelch each time his fingers bottom out, knuckles pressed tight to your cunt.

The two of you are so distracted that you don't hear the frantic footsteps until they're almost on top of you.

Ice jerks his fingers from you, yanking your dress back into place at the same time as he steps between you and the door to the closet, blocking you from whoever's about to fling the door open.

But it doesn't stop your eyes from meeting your brother's over his shoulder.

Pete slams the door shut.

Silence. Then: "You still dressed?"

Posture going rigid, Ice shoots the door a barbed look. "Maverick–" Pete shushes him through the door. He must be pressed up against the wood. Ice gives in but doesn't give up, continuing with a more hushed, "–what the hell?"

A pause. "That's not a no," your brother mulls. "Scoot over. I'm coming in."

"No!" You and Ice hiss simultaneously, but Pete is already squeezing himself into the closet with the two of you, pressed tight against Ice's back as he shuts the door firmly but with as much care as he gives his Kawasaki.

"Look," Pete whispers, and maybe his hands would be up in a placating manner if there were enough room, "I either hide in here with you two or hack it out there with Admiral Benjamin."

Without the distraction of each other, you and Ice hear far more measured footsteps hesitate at the far end of the hall before heading in your direction.

"I like your chances," Ice bites. "Leave."

Pete jostles all three of you as he turns to get into Ice's face as much as he can, given the confines of the closet. A shelf creaks, but nothing falls. "Well, it won't look good on you either," he whispers furiously. "Huh? Ice-cold, no mistakes, making out with your date in a closet like you're at junior pr–" Ice slaps a hand over his mouth, and the three of you fall deathly still.

The tension thickens until the footsteps pass you by.

No one dares to let out a quiet, adrenaline-shaken breath, even when the footsteps sound like they must have reached the other end of the hallway. Pete does, however, allow his shoulders to sag in relief.

Then, the footsteps pause.

They grow closer—louder—once more. This time, the muffled chaf of dress shoes on the carpet sounds like it's purposefully approaching the closet. Each step ratchets the tension up exponentially. You hold still, certain that if you shift your weight, something on the open shelving will give away your location. Ice, still shielding you from the door, brings a hand up to pet the back of your neck; the cool metal of his Academy ring—grounding any other time—sends a nervous trickle down your spine.

Benjamin is obviously after Pete, but how bad will it look that the two of you are in the closet with him?

There's a mechanical squeal of metal catching, handle turning, getting stuck. Jiggle. A grunt as he encounters the locking mechanism of the next door over.

Two shadows block the ambient light at the bottom of the door.

Well, you pinch your eyes closed. This will be embarrassing.

"Admiral Benjamin," someone calls from further away.

"Ah," the response comes uncomfortably close to your door. "Lieutenant…?"

"Kerner, sir." Slider. "I was with Lieutenant Kazansky earlier. Did you ever find Mitchell?

Two quick raps on the door. Pete flinches. "I believe I have." And Admiral Benjamin sounds smug.

The statement hangs in the air.

"In a closet, sir?" You can see the skeptical raise of Slider's brow in your mind's eye.

The shadow shifts. "I'm sure he came this way."

"Well, I just saw his RIO headed toward the taxis." A pause. "He's a slippery little shit. If he was here, he's long gone by now."

"Hm." Admiral Benjamin doesn't move, but from the sound of things, neither does Slider. "Well, Lieutenant. Really good stuff on the Enterprise."

Slider thanks him as the shadows disappear from the doorway and footsteps hurry off on a Goose chase.

When you're sure the admiral has left the vicinity—thankfully not asking Slider why he decided to stick around—Pete stumbles out of the closet with all the grace of a baby giraffe but none of the height. "Aw, Kerner," he teases with a dopey grin, "you do like me."

Slider snorts. "Don't thank me yet. The Geese are waiting for a taxi."

Pete's chin falls to his chest, and he mumbles a "goddammit" before hurrying to see if he can avoid Admiral Benjamin by sneaking through the courtyard.

"They're not the only ones," Slider tells Ice, nodding in the general direction of what remains of the Ball's attendees. "If you want to talk to anyone else, now's the time."

But as you practically tremble between them, Ice looks at you—really looks at you—and his features soften. He cups your shoulder, offering but not pulling you into his side. "I think I've networked enough for one night," he declares, tone light. His thumb rubbing back and forth, soothing.

Then those gray-blue eyes are on you, and his lips stretch into a slow, soft smile. "No one I can't talk with some other time."

"You sure?" Slider asks. Then, hushed, "I can take care of her while you finish up."

There is quite literally nothing you want less. The venue is clearly cursed, and you don't plan on sticking around long enough to find out what other ways you can get caught or edged tonight.��

"The bet's off," Ice states before you can say 'no,' and your heart flutters. If Ice wasn't going to stick around for one last round of shoulder-rubbing, then winning was only a matter of getting you in a taxi.

For his part, Slider doesn't seem as shocked as you are by Ice's declaration.

Ice feathers a kiss to your temple before you can second-guess his decision. It's the most relaxed you've seen him all evening. "Let's get you a taxi."

"Wait." Slider pushes off the wall. He procures a key from his pocket and presses it into Ice's hand. "Holiday Inn. K Street. Leave in 10 minutes."

Ice fiddles with the thick plastic of the keychain but pays it no real mind.

"Don't give me that look," Slider boos.

Ice licks his lips. "You know our rooms were comped, right?" It's a perk of being summoned to the event, you're sure.

Slider takes a half step forward, the three of you the closest you've been all night. From this distance, Ice has to look up ever so slightly to meet Slider's cocky gaze. "You want to what?" he asks, voice going deep and quiet enough no one else could hear if they happened by you. "Pile into a single room at the same hotel everyone else is staying at?" He motions between the three of you. "How's that going to work?"

Some like to write Slider off as all muscle, no brain. But it's his job to see things others don't—things Ice doesn't. He knew they couldn't take you back to their fancy hotel rooms even before he came to the event tonight. The safest solution had been to shell out for a lesser room somewhere you were less likely to turn heads.

"She isn't exactly known for being quiet," Sli stresses.

Ice ponders the key for long seconds before he pockets it with a nod.

Slider smirks. "That's what I thought."

[fixitwithwhat]

Credit to sga-mcshep-4ever's beautiful gifset I love all you gif creators so much thank you for providing <3

I think about this scene a lot.

Like, a LOT.

It's the first episode after the pilot, they're not even a team yet and we get this. We get John and Rodney being like this. They had almost no interactions up to this point and then suddenly we get this scene and everytime on rewatch it hits me like a truck.

Up to this point, we have never seen Rodney like this. We have SG-1 McKay in 48 hours being unable to have even one decent conversation with a human being. We have a slightly less terrible Rodney in the recurring instances after.

Even Rodney's opening interaction with Carson in this very episode doesn't go without him insulting his medical degree and then, out of the blue, we get this.

And I always have to think about how did it come to this? How did it pan out? Why did he go to John of all people instead of heading back to Carson going "hey, btw, your gene therapy worked, check this out!" What did it look like? Did he just run up to this flyboy like kids do on the playground when they show off their toy and randomly decide to be friends? Just "MajOR, look what I fOunD" and John going "omg that's so C O oL"? And then they pause and John just goes "hey do you think it can handle it if I swung this metal rod at your face real hard", like. I THINK ABOUT THIS SCENE A LOT.

What prompts Rodney to have an instant connection with this man and trust him to shoot at him? "Oh, believe me, that's not the first thing we've tried." What else have you tried before John shot at you? How long have you two been at this?

It's messing me up how they're instantly on the same wavelength. It's messing me up how happy they both look. How we've NEVER seen Rodney so genuinely, boyishly excited before. How we've never seen him interacting with a person in such a genuine, positive way. How this is the first time we see him having fun with anyone.

Same for John, there's nothing of that sardonic attitude from the pilot, he just looks like a kid and his "Did you SEE that?"-voice when he storms down the stairs is just so heartfelt and giddy. Both of them look like they're having fun with a good friend and it's messing me up.

I think about this scene a lot.

[needforspeed161]

Some IceMav head cannons I thought up as I drank my coffee this morning 💙

I absolutely LOVE icemav fics where there’s some soft domestic fluff in the mornings, like whether they’re 25 or 50, they’ll wake eachother up with soft kisses and snuggles.

Mav bringing Ice his coffee just the way he likes it, as they enjoy the morning before they have to get ready for work or (if they’re retired) maybe read the paper together and decide what to do that day. Ice wants to invite the daggers over for a home cooked brunch because even though he’s the COMPACFLT and acts all tough, he wants the younger pilots (their adopted kids) to have a nice home cooked meal every so often. Ice LOVES to cook for them. Plus he knows from years of experience that mess hall food isn’t always the best.

They love having them all over for game nights too, be it monopoly, life, scrabble, whatever game Maverick decides to pull out from his extensive collection (carrier life isn’t that exciting at times so I imagine he collected alot of board games over the years)

His favorite being an old beat up box of operation he and Goose used to play on the ship for HOURS, the gentle sway of the carrier made it all the more challenging and fun.

Ice even remembers getting wrapped up into a couple games with slider as well, he’s sure he lost hundreds of dollars to Maverick and goose with that damn game over the years 😂

They also like to invite the flyboys over for poker nights, barbecues, movies. Whatever they feel like doing that night.

Hollywood and Wolfman and Slider more than happy to come spend the evening with two of their oldest friends. A couple times they were even able to get Merlin, and Sundown over as well.

They held Cougars first grandkids birthday in their backyard. Complete with bouncy house and everything. Even though ice insisted “Maverick darling he’s turning one….i don’t think he’ll need a bounce house…” which was met with “cmon Tom please!”

Maverick ended up playing in it more than the kids did. And when the Daggers began to flow in you know that thing was filled with pilots. Chaos ensued and let’s just say Ice was worried he wouldn’t get the deposit back. But as soon as he seen the happiness on mavericks and the daggers faces his worried just seemed to melt away.

Wolf even managed to drag Hollywood in at one point.

Maverick loves pictures, he has ever since he was a boy and all he had to remember his parents were some photos. Pictures slowly began to fill their walls and countertops over the years. Old ones of his parents, Him and Goose or Goose and Carole holding Bradley when he was a baby.

Younger pictures of him and Ice, graduating Top Gun and several of their carrier missions that followed.

pictures from every single one of the daggers Top Gun graduations. Bob and Natasha’s wedding, Bradley and Jake’s engagement (soon to be wedding)

He and Ices official wedding photos (after almost 30 years once gay marriage was legalized)

Christmas photos of all of them surrounding the tree, they loved having a big family….it made their hearts soar.

[crazyk-imagine]

Bartender, I did it this Time

Pairing: Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia x Bartender!reader

Characters: Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia, Bartender!reader, Natasha "Phoenix" Trace, Penny Benjamin, Robert "Bob" Floyd, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Reuben "Payback" Fitch

Warnings: Fluff, Mickey is a emotional drunk, such a simp, Jake is lit in here, instead of saying plain coffee, I wanted to make it fun and change it up, Nat can't keep her mouth shut, Bob is a himbo in my mind for this but it doesn't, reader always liked Mickey, Bob is wingman material, Bob and Nat are my gossiping hens

Word Count: 963

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"I'm going to marry her," he says, fawning over you again.

"Is he talkin' 'bout the bartender, again?" Jake asks, his words lightly slurring.

"Yep," Reuben sighs. Already knowing he's going to be hearing more about you later, as usual. "When isn't he?"

"I'm offended but- she's coming over. Act natural." His natural is placing his head on his closed fist, staring out the window like he's a statue.

Everyone shakes their heads.

You stop in front of them, grabbing their empty glasses. “Everyone, okay? Does anyone want-”

“You?”

You glance at him through your lashes, staring at him with a deadpan expression before turning towards the soberest of the group, “Bob?”

He nods, wiping his hands. “What’s up?”

“Take him home first.”

He sheepishly smiles, “okay.”

You walk away, cleaning the dirty cups and snack bowls as you and Penny shut things down.

Your boss and well-known friend makes her way towards you, “how’d it go?”

“How’d what go?”

“You know.”

You shake your head, “nothing’s going to happen so you might as well kill the little fantasy you have in your head.”

“That boy is so into you; he can barely see straight.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” You turn around to wipe down the counters and catch Mickey looking like a baby deer.

“I didn’t mean it literally, but this makes things better.”

“Penny.”

She raises her hands, “not now, got it. I’ll just be-”

He stumbles to the bar, slamming his hands down to keep himself balanced. “Woah there, sailor.”

He pouts, “I’m not a sailor.”

You crack a smile, “I know, flyboy. I’m just messing with you.” You glance over his shoulder, “where’s Bob?”

“He took everyone home.”

“Did he forget you?” You groan, pulling out your phone. “Bob, I swear to-”

“I told him to go.”

You pause your angry texting and glance at him, “what?”

“I wanted to stay, wait until you went home.”

“Wh- why would you do that?”

He shrugs, closing his eyes, reminding you of a tired puppy. “I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“Damn, softy,” you mumble to yourself. You tap his hand, “come on, I’ll take you back to base.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t want to go back.”

You close the door, turning your head to face him. “Where do you want to go?”

“Home.”

You nod, turning on your ignition. “Right, so to your base.”

“No,” he reaches over for your hand. “With you.”

You blink, opening your mouth to respond when you notice he fell asleep.

You can’t fight the small smile that tugs at the corner of your lips.

-

You sit on the couch, waiting for him to wake up and see what he remembers.

He stops at the entrance, scratching the back of his head, eyes widening at the sight of you curled up on the couch sipping your chai latte.

You look away from the tv and find him there, you offer a smile and pat the open spot beside you.

He slowly takes a step towards you, “what- uh- what happened last night?”

“You don’t remember?” You ask, playing dumb.

He scoffs, “of course I… remember.”

“What did you tell me last night?”

He stands still, thinking back to last night.

“You had a few drinks.”

He nods, he does remember that.

“Then you had a few more.”

“That’s where things get a little hazy for me.”

“What does home mean to you?”

“Home?” He furrows his brows before his eyes widen. “I didn’t, did I?”

You nod, the smile never leaving your face as you stand up. “You did, you definitely did and, I’ll admit, it did throw me for a loop but a good one.”

His face scrunches in confusion. “It did?”

You cross your arms as you stand in front of him, bending down as you stare into his eyes. “You basically called me your home, words of a poet and a romantic.”

“I sounded like a poet?”

“Are you surprised?”

He nods, “does it sound like I’m being confident?”

You cup his cheeks and lean in, leaving room for him to lean in or pull back.

“What’s happening?”

“Something,” you glance down at his lips, “that should have happened a while ago.”

You raise your gaze to find his adorable chocolate-y eyes light up in delight. “I’m leaving the next part up to you, kiss me or don’t, it’s your choice what-”

You can’t finish your sentence because he’s already made his choice.

His hands slowly make their way to your hips, he pulls you closer.

You nearly melt in his grip and have to hold yourself together enough to pull back.

You chuckle under your breath and brush your fingers against your lips. “That- you didn’t let me finish.”

The corner of his lips curved upwards into a smirk. “I didn’t need to; I knew what you were going to say.”

“Cheeky, very cheeky.”

“Only for you, mi corazón.”

Natasha bursts through your front door, “where’s the coffee?”

“Good morning to you too, cranky pants.”

“No.” She pulls back from the kitchen and makes her way towards you. “Oh, good. You two finally got together. Bob!”

“Yeah?” He calls out from the driveway.

“They did it!”

“Oh my god.” You chuckle, “no we did not.”

“Oh," she turns around to yell over her shoulder. "They haven't done it yet but they’re together!”

“Finally!”

Mickey shakes his head, gesturing for her to stop.

“Seriously?” She asks.

He shrugs and pulls himself closer to you, “would you want to-”

“Yes.”

He chuckles, “now who’s not letting me finish?”

“Your girlfriend.”

“That- that is very true.”

“Okay, now they’re gonna do it,” she whispers to Bob.

“Shut up,” you tell her, the smile never leaving your face.  

-

Tag list

@kmc1989 @blueoorchid @chickensrule

[pinkdaisies9285]

Flyboy and the Florist-2

Bob Floyd x F!Reader

Warnings: None, Fluff, lil bit of Angst with Bob's sad boi hours

Word Count: 539

Author's Note: Here's the next part and I hope you guys like it! For fun there's a small Taylor Swift song reference in this. Leave in the comments what's your guess!

“Since when did you move into a greenhouse?” Bradley questioned while trying to avoid the multiple bouquets and plants surrounding Bob’s apartment. Every open counter space was filled with almost every flower under the sun. 

“Or the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Bob, what’s going on?” Natasha replied while glancing over at him. Bob didn’t know how to explain that he had been going to the florist shop every day for almost two weeks. Every time he walked in he told himself he would ask for the owner’s number and then a date but instead he walked out with a new leafy friend. He just couldn’t build up the courage to tell her he was there for her and not for a bouquet for his coworker’s sister’s baby shower (that was a lie.) It all boiled down to the simple fact that Bob tried to work up the guts to ask her but once he set his sights on her it was like his brain turned to mush. He was a goddamn WSO for the Navy and one woman made all that precision and expertise go down the drain.

“Well, there’s this woman I-”

“Woman?! Damn Bob I didn’t even know you were talking to other women besides Nat he–Ow!” Bradley immediately interrupted before Bob could finish his sentence. 

“Let Bob finish idiot,” the interruption led to Natasha hitting Bradley on the head. “Sorry, Bob continue what you were saying.”

“The woman is the owner of the florist shop I went to for Maverick. And for the past two weeks, I've tried to get her number but every time I just clam up.” Bob looked down at his shoes feeling defeated about his woes. He felt like at this point should he even try again. Natasha sensing this went over to Bob and gave him a pat on his shoulder.

“How about we help you, Bob? Do you need some practice? Or maybe tips?”

“How about an entirely new personal–Ow!”Natasha glared at Bradley which shut him up rather quickly after smacking his head again.

“No thanks, guys. I think I might give up on her.”

“Give up? Bob why would you give up!? You’re a WSO in the Navy for God's sake! Bradley and I both know that you can do anything you put your mind to.” Natasha said while resting her hand on Bob’s shoulder.

“Nat, I’ve literally tried to ask her for two weeks. I think I'll look crazy if I continue to go buy flowers I don't need.” 

“How about we come with you next time? Isn’t the shop also an apothecary? I’ve been wanting to check it for a while.”

“You really would do that for me?” Bob looked at both of them with surprise. He didn’t think that his coworkers would help him like this. Well, Bradley might make fun of him for a little bit longer but Bob knew that he cared. 

“Of course lover boy! Let’s get you that phone number and maybe more.” Bradley replied with a humorous smile on his face.

“Thank guys.” Bob smiles with a twinkle in his eyes like looked like stars. Maybe this would work. Maybe he could finally have something good happen in his life. 

Tag List: @attapullman @seresinhangmanjake @3tabbiesandalab @nerdgirljen @bobgasm @muddwheelz123 @tgmavericklover @jessicab1991

Previous/ Next

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Divider Credit @cafekitsune

[otgo-brooklyn]

Big Brother Slider, the true Mom Friend™

So we all have that friend, who is 100% the mom friend. And listen, are both Slider and Ice little shits of their own devices? Yes, but i'd say that Ice can be a solid Mom friend, when needed. BUT, when with Slider it just goes out of the window, and pair that with Big Brother!Slider, and you have one hell of a head cannon there.

Every time that they go to the bar, Slider doesn't even leave Ice's side, guards his drink like a feral dog, and rounds Ice up when it's time to go home

Stops Ice from having fun recklessly endangering himself

Once at the bar Ice was on his 5th Whiskey sour before a table sent over 3 shots of tequila, Ice smiled and brought one up to toast, and using his mom senses common sense, Slider abandons his chat with Goose and is at Ice's side in about 3.5 seconds saying "no no no no" takes the shots and whiskey sours out of his hand and drags Ice home

Nearly had an aneurism when he found out Ice let someone else (Goose) drive him somewhere

"YOU LET SOMEONE DRIVE YOU? WHAT IF THEY WERE TRYING TO KIDNAP YOU? KIDNAP THEN KILL YOU!? YOU KNOW PEOPLE HAVE A THING FOR YOUNG BLONDES" "WE WERE BOTH GOING BACK TO BASE, AND IM 24" "SO?? YOU'RE PRACTICALLY A BABY" "IT WAS GOOSE! AND YOU'RE ONLY A COUPLE YEARS OLDER THAN ME" "AND?? HE HAS A MUSTACHE! YOU'RE TELLING ME YOU'D TRUST SOMEONE WITH A MUSTACHE??" "YOU WERE IN THE CAR WITH ME!" "SO??"

Slider always, ALWAYS has snacks and Capri-Suns on his person incase Ice gets hungry

It's like clockwork, every time Ice starts to get hungry, hangry, cranky etc. Slider is there handing over a Capri-Sun and some carrot sticks or apple slices

"Well maybe if you didn-" Ice starts before being interrupted by Slider shoving an apple slice into his mouth mid sentence, and stopping what seems to be the next arguing match between him and Maverick in it's tracks. Ice just glowers at Slider with a pout and starts chewing on his apple slice. "I told you not to skip breakfast, now you're gonna be cranky" "Bite m-" and once more Ice is silenced with an apple slice, as Goose and Mav along with the rest of the flyboys watch on in fascinated horror as Ice's temper is swiftly and expertly derailed by Slider and his apple slices. When they're finished Slider promptly procured a Capri-Sun from somewhere and quickly shoved it within Ice's hands before he had a chance to protest. "No" Ice said looking at Slider "Drink it" "No" "Ice" "I don't want to, so im not" "Toma Mikhailovich so help me god" Slider starts, pinching the bridge of his nose, and Ice just huffs and starts to drink. The flyboys never recovered from this.

Once when filing paperwork Ice got a paper cut, as people do, and the cut is small but the tiniest, tiniest, itty bitty drop of blood wells forward and Slider already has a portable First Aid kit spread out on the desk, Neosporin on a bandaid before being wrapped around Ice's finger and Ice doesn't even blink

It's a whole 10 second ordeal and they just continue on with their lives like nothing happened

Ice coughed once after accidentally being caught out in the rain and Slider straight up commandeers the kitchen to make more soup than Ice could ever possibly consume fully convinced Ice is coming down with something

Admittedly, Ice did in fact get the flu, but Slider was too concerned to say "I told you so"

Despite everything, Slider and Ice (platonically) love each other, and Slider is 100% the mom friend between the two of them

If I forgot anything feel free to tell me!

[spacewinter]

Ik it's probably been done a million times, but (if you're still taking prompts) I'd love to see your thoughts on the flyboys and/or the daggers finding out that IceMav are together. Like, a lot of the times it's portrayed that all the flyboys knew before IceMav told them, but what if they didn't? What if they were actually FANTASTIC at hiding that they're in a full-on, committed relationship? Or on the opposite end, all the Daggers suspecting IceMav are together, and finally getting confirmation, but in some hilarious way, like walking in on the two mid-makeout session?

As much as Bradley likes to make fun of his Uncles, they're smart and competent men who achieved great things. Sure, Mav may be a reckless idiot sometimes, but he didn't get where he is by being actually stupid. Iceman is a whole new level of brilliant, perfectly controlled and only showing what he wants to show.

They managed to keep their relationship secret from the Navy for years and years, and Bradley is yet to get out of them exactly how much time it took the class of '89 to figure out they're together.

Point is, Iceman and Maverick are good at hiding their relationship, passing their affections as close friendship and long years of knowing each other. They're subtle but smitten, and Bradley's heart skips a beat whenever he sees their smiles. It's cute, as much as two decorated Naval aviators can be cute.

He's reveling in the fact that he's the only one to really know, to see them being silly and in love. Ever since he and Mav reconciled, Bradley has been a frequent guest at their house, and he got to see that their love never weakened. Still, they only for better at hiding (probably out of habit).

This is why Hangman’s teasing remark comes as such a surprise.

They're discussing their plans for the weekend after a whole week of being cooped up doing paperwork. Bradley is ready to tear his hair out, and his friends aren't doing much better. The only one who seems unaffected is Hangman, but Rooster is used to it by now - the blonde is almost annoyingly cool and level-headed at all times.

"What are your plans, old man? Risking your life on a bike instead of a plane?" Payback teases, getting an elbow in the side from Fanboy.

Maverick finishes his beer and stands up with a smile. "Nah, I'm staying inside. An old friend is coming to visit, so no strenuous activities for me this weekend."

It's only because Rooster is so (unfortunately) attituned to Hangman that he hears what the man mutters under his breath.

"Oh, so getting railed by your hunky blonde lover ain't strenuous? I see how it is."

Bradley chokes on his drink, and Mav shoots him a concerned look before finally walking away after Rooster shakes his head. As soon as he calms down, he turns fo glare at Hangman.

"What did you say?" he hisses.

Hangman raises a slow eyebrow. "That...getting railed can be a strenuous activity? If you never took a lover that's on you, Roo, but my partners were always left exhausted."

He forcibly removes all thoughts of Hangman taking a lover (taking him maybe, all golden skin and sharp grins, strong hands on Rooster’s hips-). That's not the point now.

"How- No, I mean, how did you- Hunky?" Rooster ends up squealing. Other Daggers, the traitors, just look on in amusement.

"I mean, I'm not into older blondes but I have eyes, and Kazansky's still got it," Hangman drawls with a smirk. "He was a serious hunk in his younger years, I don't blame Mav."

"No kidding," Fanboy chimes in. "Even the frosted tips were hot, it's unfair."

"He was pretty climable," Coyote agrees. "And they gave that whole opposites attract going on."

Rooster listens as his friends talk about how hot Uncle Ice, the actual Admiral Kazansky used to be, and just tries to understand how he ended up here. Years, decades even without anyone realizing, only for the Daggers to click it immediately.

"Roo, you good?" Hangman asks suddenly, a warm hand on his shoulder snapping Bradley out of it. "Don't tell me you haven't realized. You fucking lived with them, for fuck's sake!"

Rooster takes offense. "Of course I realized! But no one ever did, so how did you-"

"Honestly, Bradshaw," the blonde mutters. "I have a pair of eyes and a working gaydar, it's not like it's hard."

"They're not being super subtle," Payback agrees. "But it's sorta cute."

"They've been going for decades, I bet, and they're still this disgusting," Hangman chuckles. "Makes you hope, ey?"

Rooster locks his gaze with Hangman's, and them immediately looks away when he feels himself blush. There's heavy implication in the man's voice, and he's not sure what to do with it yet. For now, he's too busy wondering if his uncles and the Navy are just that blind and stupid, or are the Daggers that observant and smart.

Neither option is attractive to consider.

Curiously enough, the Daggers don't bring it up with Maverick, but now that he's looking, Rooster can see their smirks and eye rolls whenever Mav smiles at his phone or blushes. Slowly, he has to admit defeat - maybe Mav and Ice aren't being as sneaky as they used to be.

It all comes to a head a few weeks later, when Mav invites them over for barbecue. Iceman isn't due to be back until Wednesday, and Rooster knows that Mav is feeling a bit lonely, which is why they're invited. The older pilot even invites them to an actual house, instead of the hangar, and Rooster had to admit it's not very subtle.

"Damn, this is nice," Payback whistles looking at the huge house. "Must be nice, being a kept man."

Phoenix elbows him in the side, but doesn't deny. "Well, the Admiral sure makes good money."

Rooster rolls his eyes, leading them to the door. He knows it's going to be open because Mav always keeps it open when he invites him over, and so he confidently walks in, the Daggers following after him. He's just about to call out for the older pilot, when a loud moan sounds in the house.

They all freeze.

Then, Hangman smirks like a cat that got the cream and firmly turns around. "Trust me, folks, you don't wanna take a glance at the couch," he whispers. He was the one closest to the entrance of the living room, and the only one with a good view. "I dunno about you, but I don't need to see our Captain getting his back blown out."

That breaks the tension and they spill outside, sniffling their laughter and leaning against each other. Rooster has experience with this, having caught his guardians foing at it multiple times, but it's much funnier with friends.

"My gaydar is never wrong," Hangman announces when they calm down. "Good for them, honestly."

"What, you also wanna rail a mouthy brunette into a couch?" Coyote asks with a shit-eating smirk, throwing an arm around Jake's shoulders.

The blonde shrugs and his eyes meet Rooster’s again.

"If he's willing."

When Maverick finally opens the door with a sheepish smile, Rooster ducks inside immediately if only to hide his furious blush. Hangman's laughter follows him through, and he almost walks into Iceman.

"Hi, Admiral, please say you disinfected the couch," Hangman says immediately, respectful but cheeky. "Or do we have to avoid it?"

Iceman is silent for a long while, before he bursts out laughing. He turns to his blushing husband and smirks.

"Mav, you didn't tell me your Daggers were worse than you."

It's a nice evening. They did disinfect the couch.

[bradshawsbaby]

can i request? with the one and only bradley bradshaw. they dated in the past, but they broke up bc of long distance. a couple years later, they are at the hard deck and he brings another girl. a game of truth or dare starts, and something happens that makes her say, “i never said i love you cause i though i wasn’t enough for you!”

This is officially the last request from my anniversary celebration! Thanks for sending in such a fun concept, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! 💕

How had you ended up here?

Tonight was supposed to be a fun night out for a few drinks with the girls after work, but instead you’d somehow found yourself in the middle of a heated game of Truth or Dare with your ex-boyfriend, his date, and a small group of his closest friends.

Your heart had nearly ceased to beat when he first strolled into The Hard Deck, his arm wrapped around the waist of some pretty redhead you couldn’t help but despise the second you laid eyes on her. Even if it hadn’t been for the mustache and the Hawaiian shirt, you would have known it was Rooster Bradshaw from a thousand miles away. That cocky strut wasn’t one you could soon forget. And it seemed that his years away from North Island had only made him bolder.

One of your co-workers, Lorraine gasped from her spot beside you at the bar, nearly spilling her beer. “Is that who I think it is?”

“Who?” asked Jillian, another of your co-workers, a nice girl who had just arrived at North Island a few months ago. She craned her neck to try to see where Lorraine was looking.

“My ex,” you cut in smoothly, not wanting Lorraine to start rehashing your whole sad saga. “I heard he was back in town,” you added quickly, shrugging as if it didn’t affect you in the slightest. “He was part of that uranium mission, and it seems the Navy’s keeping some of them stationed here as part of a special squadron.”

You had known it would only be a matter of time before you ran into each other.

“You should go talk to him!” Jillian grinned, a naive excitement blazing in her eyes.

Talk to him? Talk to the guy who had left your heart shattered in a million pieces when he’d left North Island without a backwards glance?

“No,” you said firmly, taking a deep gulp of your drink. “Besides, he’s here with someone else.”

You and Rooster met when he was at TOPGUN the first time around. He was a young and brash naval aviator, desperate to prove his mettle, and you were a newly minted Navy nurse, fresh out of your graduate program. Your connection had been instantaneous, your fling passionate and intense.

But when graduation was over, so was your relationship.

At the time, you insisted to Lorraine and all the others that it didn’t bother you, that you’d known exactly what you were signing up for when you got involved with a Navy flyboy.

You were lying.

And damn, if that man and his mustache didn’t still have an effect on you all these years later.

At the sound of someone calling your name, you turned and let out a gasp of pleasant surprise. “Phoenix! Bob!” you exclaimed, hugging them both. You remembered both of them from their times at TOPGUN as well. In the back of your mind, you recalled hearing something about them being part of the group that had been recalled for the mission.

“Come over and have a drink with all of us,” Phoenix insisted after the three of you had spent some time catching up. “Payback, Fanboy, Coyote, and Hangman are here, too,” she said. “And Rooster.” She said that last part with a look of feigned innocence.

Before you could think better of it, you found yourself agreeing. And that’s how one drink became three, and the whole lot of you wound up scattered around a table near the back, caught up in a ruthless game of Truth or Dare.

You couldn’t look Rooster in the eye, but you could feel his eyes on you all the same. Your skin grew warm under his scrutiny, and you couldn’t help but wonder what the girl on his arm was thinking. Considering the fact that about halfway through the game, she huffed something against his ear and then stalked off towards the bar alone, she wasn’t thrilled by his lack of attention.

After Rooster completed Fanboy’s dare to chug some strange combination of beer and hot sauce, he looked at you again, and this time you couldn’t help but look back.

Your mouth instantly went dry. How could he be even more handsome than you remembered?

“My turn,” he murmured, never once taking his eyes off you.

“Me?” you questioned, feeling a knot develop in the pit of your stomach.

“Truth or Dare?” Rooster asked, leaning a little bit closer to you.

“Truth,” you replied quickly, before you could take the time to really weigh your options.

It looked to be the answer he was hoping to hear. “Have you ever lied about being in love?”

Your heart plummeted inside your chest. You knew exactly why he was asking you this question. You glanced nervously at the others for a moment before squaring your shoulders and telling him, “Yes.”

Rooster tensed at that, his dark eyes even more intense now as he continued to stare at you. “Lied about being in love or lied about not being in love?”

“Hey! Only one question per turn!” Hangman interjected, pushing a handful of peanuts into his mouth.

“Excuse me,” you muttered, suddenly feeling much too hot in the crowded bar. You nearly tripped in your effort to get away from the group of naval aviators, hurrying out a side door and onto the beach.

You could hear Rooster calling your name from behind you, but it only made you try to run further away.

“Hey!” Rooster called, finally catching up to you and slowing you down with a hand on your waist. “Answer my question. Please,” he said quietly, a silent yearning in his tone.

“I lied about not being in love, okay? Is that what you want to hear?” you demanded, crossing your arms firmly over your chest.

It had been a couple nights before his TOPGUN graduation, and the two of you were lying in bed together. You knew he would be leaving soon and you were trying to steel yourself for the disappointment of being the one who got left behind.

“Can I ask you something?” he whispered, holding you in his arms in a way that you wanted to commit to memory forever. When you nodded, he continued, “Do you think you—have you ever been in love?”

Before meeting him, you would have said no. But these past several weeks had been a whirlwind and had showed you everything your life had been missing up to that point. So now the answer was yes because you were without a doubt in love with Bradley Bradshaw.

But you couldn’t tell him that. He wasn’t going to choose you, not when he had his whole future ahead of him. A future that wasn’t on North Island. So you told him an answer that you thought might make it hurt less when he inevitably left you.

“No.”

You figured you were just imagining the tightness in his jaw and the way his body stiffened. He rolled over in bed then and didn’t say anything else for the rest of the night.

And then graduation came, and he was gone.

But now he was standing in front of you once more, his dark eyes sparking with some emotion, some intense depth of feeling that you didn’t quite understand.

“Rooster,” you murmured, unable to stop yourself from getting caught up in the orbit of that gaze. “It doesn’t—”

“Did you lie that night? That night I asked you if you’d ever been in love?” he pressed, taking a step closer to you. You felt dwarfed by his large frame.

Unable to form words, you simply nodded, eyes wide as you looked up into his face.

“Had you been in love before or did you love me then?” Rooster demanded, his tone not exactly rough, but definitely firm.

“Rooster, please—”

“Please just tell me,” he begged, something cracking behind his hard facade.

“I loved you then,” you whispered, your voice nearly swallowed up by the waves.

Rooster took a step back, raking his hands through his sun-kissed brown curls. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he rasped, shaking his head. “I deserved to know! Why didn’t you—?”

“I never said ‘I love you’ because I thought I wasn’t enough for you!” you exploded, the truth spilling forth at last.

That stopped Rooster dead in his tracks as he lifted his head and gazed into your eyes. “What?” he asked, his question falling heavy like a stone.

“I knew you were leaving and that you weren’t going to look back!” you exclaimed, fighting back the tears in your eyes. “I couldn’t—I couldn’t bear telling you that I loved you, only to watch you leave a few days later!”

Rooster seemed to instantly deflate at your revelation, pain flashing in his eyes. “Did you really think that I would just leave? We could’ve made it work. We could’ve—”

“I didn’t want your pity,” you mumbled, feeling embarrassed now as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Pity?” Rooster scoffed, stepping even closer to you and reaching out to cup your face in his hands. “Baby, I was so in love with you.”

“You were?” you gasped, your breath catching in your throat as you looked at him.

He nodded, not letting go of you. “I still am. Even all these years later, I’ve never been able to get you off my mind.”

“Rooster,” you whispered softly, almost reverently. “Oh, Rooster.” Sliding your hands into his hair, you moved closer to him, your body pressing against his. “I’ve missed you,” you confessed, barely wanting to breathe for fear of ruining this moment. You were half convinced it was a dream.

“I’ve missed you, too, baby,” he replied quietly, nuzzling his nose against yours. “But I’m back now. For good. And I don’t want to have to say goodbye again.”

“Truth or Dare?” you murmured, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Dare,” he smiled, resting his hands on your hips.

“I dare you to kiss me,” you grinned, heart hammering inside your chest.

He chuckled at that, cradling your face in his hands as he leaned in for the kiss. “Easiest dare ever.”

From my “TOP ONE” Anniversary Celebration! (Requests are now closed)

[dingochef]

A belated Happy Birthday to our favorite flyboy, Glen Powell. Here's a one shot from my Dancing on the Clouds Below universe featuring Jake and Elsa.

Masterlist

Flyboy

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x You (OFC)

Warnings: Swearing, Oral Sex (F receiving), Spanking, P in V sex,

Word Count: 4.8k

Summary: A very sexy Birthday for your favorite flyboy, Jake.

With Jake's birthday coming up you wanted to do something special for him; Jake has always put in the extra effort in his gifts to you. An idea came floating through your head.  A few phone calls later, it was coming together. Lydia is the first of those phone calls.

"Hey, chicka, what's up?" she perkily asks when she answers the phone.

"Jake's birthday is coming up and I have an idea for a gift, but I need a good boudoir photographer.  I figured you might have a line on one, rather than me randomly searching the internet," you explain.

"What makes you think I have a naughty photographer in my Rolodex?" she replies, only mildly indignant.

There is a long pause and then she sighs, 

"Ok, you're not wrong.  I can text you the info right after this call. So, what kind of look are you going for? Naughty nurse, classy soft focus, Playboy bunny?"

You laugh, 

"None of those ones, I was going to do the pin up look, kind of like the nose art on WWII planes.  I've got a friend who works at the air and space museum and she's got me some time after hours to do a photoshoot."

"Ooh, great idea.  Any specific outfits?"

"I thought of doing a sexed up Rosie the Riveter and then I've got a nice skimpy red dress, heels, and stockings.  I'm going to smuggle his bomber jacket out and wear that in a couple."

"Nice, you need help with hair and makeup? I'd love to tag along and see how it goes. This is exactly the kind of thing Rooster would come in his pants for."

"Eww, thanks for the visual. And yes that would be super helpful for getting the look right. It is kind of a pilot thing, isn't it?"

She laughs, 

"Yeah, it is."

You hang up and the info for Jenny of Satin Dreams Boudoir Photography pings on your phone.  You take a quick look at her website and like her style, so you give her a call.

"Jenny speaking," a pleasant sounding voice answers the phone.

"Hi, this is Elsa Matthews, I got your contact info for photography from Lydia O'Callahan," you reply.

"Oh yeah, Lydia, she's always been a fun one to work with.  That red hair is perfect for the camera, what can I do for you?"

You give her the rundown on the location and the ideas you have in you head and some of the available times.

Jenny is excited by the idea, 

"I love it!  I've been wanting to do some vintage work and this is perfect.  Let me know your email and I can send you pricing and contract details."

That settled you now have to come up with the second part of the plan that includes a little bit of subterfuge. You tell Jake that you have a networking event to attend for work that'll keep you late.  You're able to smuggle his bomber jacket out by waiting for him to leave for work first.  

You're at work for most of the day and it seems to drag on.  Finally, the clock hits 3 pm and you practically sprint to your car. When you get to Lydia's house she is bouncing with excitement.  

"This is going to be so fun," she says as you walk in.  You're quickly ushered to her bathroom where she has laid out what seems like an absurd amount of makeup and hair products.

You show her a few pictures of what you were thinking for hair, classic 40s wave for the red dress and a simple updo to go with the bandanna of the Rosie the Riveter outfit.

She gets to work and soon you have a perfect Rita Hayworth wave that is frozen into place with a lot of hair products.  Next is makeup,

"I know this is going to feel like a lot, but for photography you have to exaggerate a bit more than what you would wear in real life," Lydia warns you.

About 45 minutes later Lydia has transformed you into a sexy Hollywood star of yesteryear complete with fake lashes and red lipstick.  

"This is perfect.  Thank you so much, I would have never gotten this to look so good.  You're like my naughty godmother of hair and makeup."

She giggles and claps her hands with excitement. You look at the clock and it's time to head over to the Air and Space Museum.  

You park in the back and meet Becky, your friend and gal on the inside, at the staff entrance.  Lydia and you haul all the stuff in.  Becky leads you to the section of the museum where the WWII aircraft are located.  Jenny is already there setting up her equipment.  

She walks over to you and gives Lydia a hug and then looks at you, 

"So good to meet you in person, Elsa.  You are going to be the perfect model today," she says.  You're instantly at ease with her, she is in her 50s, long hair that is perfectly silver with little square glasses perched on her nose.  She reminds you more of an English Lit professor than a naughty photographer.  

Becky shows you to a small room you can change in. You start with the black satin underwear, the garter belt, black sheer stockings with seams, lace tops, and little bows at the back and then shimmy on the red satin dress.  The dress is ruched up the sides and is strapless.  You put on your red heels with straps and take a look at yourself in the mirror.  The dress is short and you can see the lace tops of your stockings. You turn around and give a little squeal of glee, this is exactly the look you were going for.  You walk back confidently to where Jenny has set up.  She is at a B-29, a bomber that has been shined up and looks gorgeous.  A speaker is playing a 1940s playlist.   

You use a step ladder to get up on the wing and Jenny moves it so she can use it to take the shots. She directs you where to put your legs, your arms and you take a variety of shots on the wing. Your next series of shots are inside the aircraft.  Jenny gets one of you leaning out the door leg up against the side of the plane.   All throughout she is giving you cues on facial expressions, 

"Give me cute, sexy, think of Jake," to help guide the shoot.  She takes a few shots of you at the controls, including one of you sitting on the tiny dash, one leg spread wide and the other tastefully covering yourself.

You're about to wrap up the bomber shots when you have an idea. Grabbing Jake's bomber jacket you strip off the red dress so you're naked under the jacket, but still wearing the underwear, garters, stockings, and heels.  Jenny's eye's light up and she gets an idea.  She puts you back up on the wing kneeling facing away from her and you drop the jacket off your shoulders showing your naked back.  She has you look over your shoulder back at her.  Next she has you turn around and pull the jacket out to hold it at the bottom so it is spread across your chest showing the hint of your breasts but no nipple.  You lay down with your legs up on the fuselage and do the same pose with the bomber jacket.  

You take a deep breath and kneel on the wing and drop the jacket all the way down, baring your breasts for the camera.  Jenny quickly takes a few shots with a few adjustments.You get off the plane and she shows you a few shots on her camera and they look amazing.   You quickly change into the other outfit.  You had managed to find a tight short denim shirt dress that you can unbutton down to show off a red bra with white polka dots. It all matches with your underwear and the bandana, giving you a sexy Rosie the Riveter look.

You head over to a P-51 Mustang and you can see the ideas forming in Jenny's mind.  You start with various poses around the propeller. Next you take shots sitting on the wing, sitting in the cockpit, and your favorite looking into the engine compartment holding a wrench like you're going to fix the thing. Finally, you get in place for the big finale.  You climb up on the nose and take a few shots astride the nose, cowgirl style from different angles and some side saddle.  You finish the shoot with you in front of the green screen doing various Rosie the Riveter poses.

"That's a wrap," Jenny announces triumphantly.  Everyone says goodbye and Lydia and you head back to her house so you can get all the makeup off and tame your hair into more of your usual style. Luckily it's started raining, because that will help deal with the hairspray and not cause Jake to be suspicious.

Eventually you get back around 8:30.  Jake is lounging on the couch reading a book and looking good as always. He is reading some mystery novel. You lean down and give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.  

"Have you figured it out yet? Who's the murderer?" you ask. Jake laughs and looks up to kiss you on the lips,

"Not yet, this one is really good. How did your networking event go?"

"The usual, lots of people I know and some of the same idiots, so a bit good and a bit exhausting. I think I'm going to take a shower, want to join me?" 

Jake perks up at the thought and says, 

"Definitely, just let me finish this chapter and then I'll be in there to ravish you." 

–

You anxiously await the delivery of the  proofs from the shoot.  Jenny sends you a link to a site where to preview them.  You have to wait till out of Jake's vision to take a look at them.  You love the way they turned out, Jenny has done a wonderful job editing them, some she has done in black and white, full color, and then selected parts of some she's put in black and white to emphasize the red dress.  While you like the Rosie the Riveter ones you really like how the red dress ones and especially the ones of you in Jake's bomber jacket turned out.  You select the ones you want printed into a book, digital prints, and a few other items.  

A few days before Jake's birthday, you give him a heads up that he might want to come home a bit early on his birthday.

"Anything special you have planned?" he asks.  

"You'll see, just be patient.  Dinner reservation is at 7, so if you head home around 4ish, that should give us enough time," you tease him.

It's finally the day of his birthday and you get to give him his gift.  You work from home so you can be done early and get ready.  You're ready just a bit before 4 pm.  

You slip on Jake's bomber jacket over the red dress outfit and artfully arrange yourself on the armchair opposite the front door for maximum effect.  When you hear Jake unlocking the door you strike a pose, legs over one arm of the chair and arms stretched out.  Jake's jacket is slumped down off your shoulders allowing as much bare skin as possible. Jake comes in the door fiddling with his keys and turns directly to the shoe rack where he starts taking off his boots. He hasn't seen you yet, you can tell. You inhale sharply when you realize he's wearing his flight suit and not his khakis, something about his flight suit makes him even more irresistible than normal. His boots are finally off and he calls out, 

"El, I'm home," as he starts to scan the house for you.  He finally turns and he sees you. 

"Welcome home, Jake," you purr, as you raise one leg and slide your hands down, presumably fixing your stocking.  

Jake wolfishly grins as he walks toward you. He catches your foot in the air and gives the inside of your ankle a kiss as he slides his hands down your calf.

"This is way better than a surprise party," he says mostly to your leg he is caressing.  

You laugh, 

"You thought I was going to throw you a surprise party?," he nods, 

"Oh no, I want the birthday boy all to myself."

He is now skimming his lips down your leg and his hand on the back of your leg moves to explore what exactly you have on.  He feels the bows and lace tops to the stockings and he raises his eyebrows.  

"Stockings, had to be authentic to the era" you stutter out, distracted by his hands.

You stand up and Jake is quick to embrace and kiss you. It is a kiss that starts sweet and grows into one filled with heat.  Jake slides his hands down the satin of your dress to give your ass a good squeeze.  The motion pulls a throaty moan out of you and Jake takes advantage to slide his tongue into your mouth.  You wrap your arms around Jake, enjoying the feeling of his broad shoulders and the gentle scrape of his five o'clock shadow on your chin. He reaches into the bomber jacket and brushes his hand on the naked skin of your back.   He pushes the jacket off you to get a full look at your outfit.

"Wow, you look amazing, babe. You remembered my comments from that air show."

You do a little turn for him to see everything.  

"I wish I could take a picture to remember this forever," he says as he starts to kiss down your neck.  

You're momentarily distracted by his lips, and finally stutter out, 

"Funny you say that.  You should open the gift on the table."

He pouts a little and says, 

"I am unwrapping my gift."

"It'll be worth your while," you manage to say, suppressing a moan as his hand touches the skin between your stockings and your dress.  

He reluctantly pulls away to sit down on the couch and picks up the wrapped box on the table. You sit next to him, buzzing with anticipation. Jake  unwraps the gift with surprising patience. Pulling open the black box lid he pulls out a leather bound picture album.  

"What's this?" he asks you, slightly confused.  

"Look inside," you urge him.

He flips open the cover and sees where you have inscribed it.

I know that in any time and place we would fall in love. Happy Birthday, the first of many we will celebrate together.

My Darling Jake,

Always Yours, 

Elsa

He reads the message and kisses you before turning the page.  He turns to the next page and sees the photo where you are astride the Mustang in the Rosie the Riveter outfit.  The next one is you with the engine open,  your hand on your hip holding a wrench flipping skirt up to show off your underwear and your finger on your chin with a confused look on your face.  

Jake laughs, 

"You of all people would probably know how to fix an aircraft engine."

The next shot is you laying on the wing on your back looking back at the camera, your polka dot bra and cleavage clearly visible.

"That's my usual view of you.  The first night at the Hard Deck I couldn't stop staring down your dress. One advantage of you being short," Jake teases.

You give him a fake slap on his bicep, "You are incorrigible."

"Yes, but I think you like it," he retorts back, leaning in to steal another kiss before looking back to the album.

There are a few more from the Mustang and Jake takes his time to admire each one and then he flips the page to the first of the red dress shots.  The first shot is you leaning out the door with one leg hiked up on the door frame.  Next is one where you are on the wing laying down your stomach, your legs up behind you, red heels popping against the silver of the B-29. 

There's one of you sitting on the wing, legs dangling. Jake turns the page to see the photo of you sitting on the dash of the cockpit, one leg splayed out and the other tucked in to provide some modesty.

"You would have been slightly distracting on the flight deck," he jokes.  

Next is your favorite shot of the session, you are leaning against the fuselage just wearing his bomber jacket and the lingerie looking coquettishly at the camera.  The jacket covering just enough that the round swell of your breasts peaks out of the jacket. Jenny captured your expression perfectly. The final shot that is printed is the one of you kneeling on the wing leaning with your back facing the camera, the bomber jacket down at your elbows showing off your back. You are looking back at the camera with a knowing smile.  

"This one I really like, now I'd know why my jacket smelt like you the last time I wore it. You sneaked off with it.  Where did you get these done, babe? They're gorgeous," Jake asks, kissing you on the cheek.

"I called in a few favors, I know someone over at the air and space museum. I've got one more gift for you."

Jake smiles and starts to pull you into his lap ready for some more sexy times.  You push slight on his pec, 

"Hold on, flyboy."

You find the back cover where there is a pocket.  Quickly slipping your fingers into the pocket you pull out a card and hand it to Jake.

He accepts the card and flips it over to really look at it.

"Holy shit, El," he breathes, taking in the image he's holding.

It's a laminated card of you wearing his bomber jacket and nothing else, completely nude.

"This is for you to tuck into your flight suit. Keep me close to you. For some good luck."

"That's more than good luck, El. God, you like that next to me flying, I'll be invincible."

"That's the idea, Jake."

You put the book down gently on the table and move to straddle Jake.

"I've got more digital files we can look at later, but I think we have other things on our minds, flyboy," you say as a grind down on him feeling him getting hard under you.  

"That we do," he answers as pulls your head down for a kiss. It is brief but intense and he kisses his way down your neck pausing to suck a bruise at the base of your neck. He runs his tongue along the edge of the dress cupping your breasts in his hands.  

You are trying to find the zipper for his flight suit and whine when you're unsuccessful. He laughs and guides your hand to where the zipper pull is tucked under some fabric.  Quickly you unsnap the collar and pull down the zipper to find a black undershirt you still have to deal with to be treated to Jake's magnificent chest.  Your hands dive into the flight suit to find the bottom of his undershirt.  You grab the hem in an attempt to get Jake undressed. Halfway through the movement you realize that it's caught on Jake's arms thay are still in his flight suit.

"A little help here? I want you naked, please," you whine.

"So demanding," Jake laughs, pulling his arms out of the flight suit and his undershirt off. 

"You're really hot in this flight suit, even hotter when it's half off of you," you say in the most sultry way possible as you slide a hand down his chest and abs watching each muscle tense and release under your touch. 

Jake leans forward to nuzzle his face into your cleavage and looks up at you.  You can't help the smile that blooms across your face when your eyes meet.  

He reaches up and pulls the top of the dress down to reveal your breasts to him. Jake is immediately on them, licking, cupping, squeezing.  Anything he can touch he is lavishing attention on it.  You grind on his lap as he continues his efforts. Sliding your hand up you card your fingers the short hairs at the back of his neck and tug Jake's head up.  He rewards you with a little moan as you lean in to kiss him, your tongue slipping into his open mouth.  Your hips are still rolling rhythmically as you seek out some friction for your rapidly heating core.

Jake's hands run up and down your side, gliding on the satin.  He settles his hands on your hips and and pushes up your dress from where it has rucked up exposing your thighs and the top of the stockings.  Jake trails a hand from your hip across the top of your thigh and down between your legs, fingers teasing with a light touch. The dress is just covering enough that Jake can't see your pussy. You look at his face in anticipation to wait for the moment he realizes you're not wearing any underwear. He clenches his jaw when he puts it together, 

"God damn, El.  You're going to kill me. No underwear." 

His fingers ghost over your mound and part your folds to gently stroke your clit, 

"You've been ready to fuck me since I walked in the door. You got my flight suit all wet, you're so ready to go."

You lift your hips enough to see that indeed you have left a dark spot of your wetness on the green fabric stretched across his hard cock.

"Fuck, Jake," you whine as you sit back down and rub yourself against the coarse fabric seeking some relief,

"You do that to me, been thinking about fucking you all day, barely kept myself together. Wanted to use my hands, but knew it would be better with your cock in me when I came." 

Jake's hands have slipped to your ass where he has pulled up the dress to reveal the smooth skin there, he grips hard as you talk. 

"Thought about how you'd touch yourself looking at my pictures. Your big cock in your hand jerking off," you pant out between each cycle of your hips. Jake roughly pulls your head down to give you a solid, dirty kiss, his hand tangled in your hair.  You moan loudly at the action. Your hips have sped up as you grind against Jake seeking your high, your clit dragging across the green fabric.

"Let me hear how much you want it, El," Jake moans into your mouth as your hands tighten on his shoulders. Your orgasm is hurtling towards you, Jake urging you on with his hands on your ass helping to guide you.

"Let go, El. Come for me. Get my flight suit all wet. So desperate for me, you're humping me before I even get my dick out.  My needy little slut." 

He punctuates the last word with two hard slaps with his big hands on your ass breaking your peak over you.

Your hands are scrabbling at Jake's chest for somewhere to hold as your climax washes over you. You melt into Jake's arms as the aftershocks roll through you. He kisses your forehead and wraps his arms around you as you come back to the earth. Once you've caught your breath

Jake grips your hips and lifts you up to reveal his lap.

"El, god damn, look at that," he says pointing down to the large wet spot on his flight suit. A flush of embarrassment creeps across your face for some reason. Jake picks up on your change of mood.

"So fucking amazing, El. Fuck that's hot," he says, mostly into your mouth as he pulls your head down for another intense kiss. Your embarrassment quickly dissipating. He pulls his head back, his teeth lightly dragging on your lower lip.

Jake's hands grip your hips and spins you around with ease so that you are kneeling on the couch, hands on the back of sofa.   He is standing behind you smoothing his hands over your ass, the heat of his handprint still lingering on each cheek.  Soft lips startle you as Jake sweetly kisses each patch of skin. The gentle thud of his knees hitting the hardwood floor clues you into his next move. You start to squirm with anticipation knowing how good he is with his mouth. 

"Eager, El?" Jake asks, parting your cheeks revealing your dripping slit to his gaze. Without warning he dives in, his tongue sliding inside you in one deep motion and his fingers coming up to gently tease at your sensitive clit.  

"You're dripping, baby. Your needy little cunt can't wait to have my cock inside, can you?" he asks in a slightly mocking tone as he stands up, keeping his fingers on your clit.  

Words are beyond you as he menacingly rubs close but not directly on your clit. The sound of the rest of the zipper on his flight suit being unzipped and the soft rustle of fabric being pushed against skin fills the air.    He leans over his chest skin on skin to your back, he sweeps your hair past my ear so he can whisper,

"You ready for more, El?"

"Please," you surprise yourself with how desperate you sound. 

Jake leans back and you wait on edge for him to enter you.  You gasp when he pulls on the garter belt and snaps it against your skin on your ass. The pain is turning you on even more.

"Jake, please fuck me," you plead.

Another sharp sound rings out as he snaps your garter belt on the other cheek; it draws out a long moan and another plea.

"Please, please fuck me," you plead, begging, your voice going hoarse at the end.

"Shh, shh, I've got you," Jake coos as he soothingly caresses your ass. He finally relents and slowly pushes his cock into you. A wave of relief washes over as the slow stretch as he enters you is so good. You can only let out a long breathy moan in response. He bottoms out and pauses for a brief moment before pulling back and plunging in again, hard. You brace against the couch as Jake's hands latch onto your hips.  He snaps his hips in and out and sets an almost brutal pace. 

"So good, El.  Fuck, look at you," he pants out with each thrust, occasionally snapping your garter belt.  Jake places his hand on your shoulder and pulls you up against his chest. He keeps up his pace in the new position and he is hitting new spots inside you that are turning your brain into jelly. Jake slides his hand down to rub your clit as he whispers wonderful things to you,

"You take my cock so well, El. Feel you nice and tight. Want to feel come on my cock. Can you do that for me, baby? Come for me? Be my good girl? Hmm?"

"Yes, please," you pant out more than speak.

Jake switches his rhythm on your clit and you come apart hard clenching around Jake, nearly collapsing with the intensity. Jake is holding you up as he thrusts chasing his release, the obscene sound of your wet cunt taking him filling the room. His last few thrusts lose their perfect rhythm as he gets close. 

"Oh fuck," is all he can he shout out before he spills inside you.  His release adding to all the wetness dripping out of you. Jake's arms wrap around you as you catch your breath.  The gentle kisses Jake is placing up your shoulder and neck relax you even more. 

"You are unbelievably sexy, El.  Thank you for this amazing birthday gift, all of it," he breathes into your neck where he has tucked his face. You turn your head to catch his lips in a kiss before you seperate.  Standing fully up you look at Jake and say before sweetly giving him a kiss and a wink,

"You're welcome, flyboy. It was pleasurable for all."

You catch the time on the clock on the wall and let Jake know,

"It's time to get ready for dinner."

"Only if you're on the menu for dessert."

He walks by you still looking ravenous and whispers, 

@kmc1989

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered

@mayhemmanaged

@callmemana

@dempy

@hangmanscoming

@lanie-k

@callsign-viper

@senjoritanana

@djs8891

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@mygyn

[thatsrightice]

I just learned that sometimes the replacements would call Crosby and the other more experienced guys on base “old”, like Crosby is called “Old Croz”, And that just confirms for me that Crosby and Rosie are like the unofficial-official parents of the 100th bomb group flyboys.

Crosby is Mom or Ma, not like they’d ever intentionally call him that to his face. It probably started as a joke after one of the many times he blew up on a senior ranking official in defense of one of his boys, but the traits have always been there like:

Sees one of the boys getting sick and just walks up to them and puts a hand on their forehead to feel for a fever. If someone notices their friend is ill, they’ll immediately go get Croz and he’ll persuade them to sit the mission out. In fact, for most issues they’ll go to Croz because he’s smart and (usually) calm and always knows what to do

Knows everyone’s name but sometimes he’ll have to cycle through a couple before he gets the right one. If he’s super tired he’ll just be like: “whatever-your-name-is”

Visits the sick or wounded in the hospital no matter how minor the reason and he won’t shy away from holding their hand while they set bones and stuff. Sometimes he’ll bring a book and quietly read to a them

Works tirelessly planning the safest routes possible and briefs the navigators and bombardiers as thoroughly as he can

Rosie is obviously Dad, they probably call him Pa or Pops.

He’s the fun parent, leaving Croz to do a lot of the parenting. He just finds it hard to stay mad at them and often times lets them get away with nothing more than a warning

Where some of the guys in Group Ops try to distance themselves and not get too attached he fully commits himself to earning their trust. He wants to make sure they trust him both on the ground and in the air so that he knows they’ll follow him if he needs to make any last-minute decisions in the air

When one of the boys comes up to him asking for help shaving because they’d never had to back home, he gladly teaches them.

He is always reminding them to make good choices and it helps decrease accidents on base, just a little, because no one wants to disappoint him

Rosie is there by their side for just about every mission, especially the particularly difficult ones. Crosby will sometimes fly too, but if he’s not you can be assured that he’ll always be standing there on the control tower balcony anxiously waiting for his boys to return.

[callsignthirsty]

Chapter 2: On the Roof

Shit weather can only stop me for so long! Here's chapter 2

Pairing: Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x F!Reader x Ron “Slider” Kerner Summary: The boys receive their commendations, and you keep your legs crossed. Should be easy, right? Wrong. Word Count: 3680 Warnings: Smut, bets and wagers, semi-public sex, fingering, oral sex (female receiving) Chapter: 2/4 Minors DNI Previous Chapter

“Sooo,” Maria Cortell leans as far forward as her bump will allow, drawing out the word with a smile on her lips. It’s become apparent that you’ll be waiting a while for your stolen tablemates to walk onto the stage and receive their commendations. “Are wedding bells ringing?”

Your poor heart, which had only just slowed, skips an unsteady beat. Maria’s question, for as simple as it is, packs one helluva wallop.

The thought hasn’t crossed your mind. You haven’t even said I love you—not for a lack of love, but because you’ve lost many of the ones you love over your life. Admitting the depth of your feelings—whether for family, friends, or beaus—always seems to precede an abrupt departure of said person from your life. But now that Maria has mentioned it, what are you supposed to do?

Distracted, you twist your cloth napkin between clammy hands. It’s not like you can marry Ice and Slider, but you can’t date Ice forever, either. especially not if he’s trying to climb the ladder. He’s expected to marry. To have kids. The white picket fence experience. A wife to come home to.

“They must be,” Merlin’s wife jumps in.

Maria nods with the enthusiasm you wish you felt. “Bill and I were looking at houses after three months. I’m sure you’ve at least talked about it.”

Goose throws back a full glass of wine.

They think they’re being supportive, and it would be nice if it weren’t so terrifying. “I–”

“And now’s the perfect time,” Maria doesn’t even realize she’s cut you off. “Who knows how long he’ll be stationed at Miramar?”

“Ooh! You could get married on the beach.”

Cougar catches your lack of participation. “Don’t scare her off, now,” Cougar says, placing his hand on top of his wife’s to get her attention.

“Oh please,” Laura brushes Cougar aside, “they’ve been practically wrapped around each other all night. Ron said they’ve been inseparable.”

Maria sighs. “Poor Ron.” Carole chokes, but the only one who pays her any mind is Goose, who smacks her between her shoulder blades and refills her water. “I remember how close he and Tom were at Pensacola, must be hard for him to watch his friend settle down–“ something must flit across your face because she hesitates mid-sentence, her eyes widen a little as she realizes the insinuation, and she all but lunges for the distraction of her sentry of a water glass, “–but, um, I’m sure you have a friend you could set him up with?”

“Oh,” Goose interjects loud enough to turn a couple of heads and incite a stern look from Jester, “I think this is them.”

It isn’t.

“That would be fun,” Laura coos back to Maria without skipping a beat. “Think of the double dates.”

“Come on,” Goose tries again, “you don’t want to set someone up with Kerner, do you?” And didn’t Goose know it. He squawks when Carole catches him in the ribs with her elbow, but Maria and Laura are off to the races, passing the idea back and forth and painting a picture of your future while you struggle to keep up.

“You’ll always have someone to keep you company when they end up on a carrier halfway around the world.” Maria.

A sly look from Laura. “You know, if you time it right, your kids can grow up together.”

“Community is so important,” Maria agrees, ducking around a waiter’s arm as dinner plates are settled.

“Sam and I were lucky enough to be stationed near my family when we had the girls.”

“I don’t know what I’d have done without the wives’ group while I was pregnant with Robbie.” Maria gives her husband a tender smile and smoothes a hand over her belly. Whatever she says next is drowned out by applause.

This time—as Goose breathes an “Oh, thank god”—a familiar group of flyboys are led onto the stage. The commander keeps it brief; says some words about the Layton mission and the courageous efforts of the aviators who defended the boat from enemy MiGs. Everyone gets a pin on their lapel before they’re all ushered off the stage. Your legs are crossed by the time they make it back to the table.

The rest of the dinner passes without issue. Plates are cleared. The program comes to a close with the cutting of a cake. A cacophony of music and conversation erupts as the masses are released from their seats and the event finally catches its second wind. More immediately around you, the flyboys spill into the space between their tables and continue catching up.

Hollywood and Sundown introduce their dates—fiancée and wife, respectively—to the larger group. Jester and his wife sneak off, presumably to find Viper but definitely different company. It’s a relief to gain more social padding between yourself, Maria, and Laura, well-meaning though they may be.

It’s while you’re reacquainting yourself with the rest of the group when Hollywood asks Slider if he’s flying solo these days.

“What’s it look like?” Slider grumbles.

Wolfman slings an arm around his fellow RIO’s shoulders to pull him close. “Aw, man. What happened?”

Slider gives him a half-shrug, looking otherwise unaffected. “You know how it is. Couldn’t handle the job.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Chipper chimes in. “You’re still at Miramar.”

“So she dumped you?” Wolf’s winces as he looks up at Slider, taking his silence for confirmation. “Yikes.”

“Hey, it wasn’t like that–”

“Don’t mind them,” Sundown says, an arm wrapped around his wife. She beams at him when he assures Slider,“The right one will stick around.”

And the conversation could’ve ended there. Wolf, Chip, and Sli could’ve spent the rest of the night wingmanning each other until it was time to turn in and Slider would slip into your quarters.

Maria Cortell had other plans. “Don’t be ridiculous! We were just talking about how the future missus must have a friend she can set you up with.” Cheeks flaming, you tuck into Ice’s side in an attempt to escape his gaze. “Future missus?” His tone gives nothing away, but the stiffening of his arm beneath your hand speaks volumes.

Beside Ice, Slider raises a brow. “Were you, now?” This is a conversation you were hoping to avoid.

“Please,” Pete scoffs. “I wouldn’t wish Kerner on anyone.”

Slider sneers, but it doesn’t have any real heat behind it. “Bite me, Mitchell.”

And bless Carole Bradshaw because she sees Pete opening his mouth to say, “Which one?” from a mile away and deploys a very loud countermeasure: “I wanna dance!”

Goose grabs his wife’s hand and pulls her to sit across his lap. “Great idea, honey!” he crows, earning a kiss on the cheek.

For as long as you’ve known him, Goose has always been a darling. Everyone knows it, too. The sun is hot. Water is wet. Everyone loves Goose. His close call on Hop 31 only cemented that last truth. Nick Bradshaw is magnetic in a way few others are, and he could pull a crowd just as easily at the piano as he could, apparently, at his wife’s beck-and-call.

The display of eager, honeyed affection drawing the eyes and smiles of the group.

“C’mon, Mav, give us a push!” Goose loops his arms around Carole as she makes herself comfortable in his lap for the taxi to the dancefloor. “Should be a—what did you call it?—a target-rich environment.”

“Wait. You not seeing Blackwood anymore?” Hollywood asks, receiving ‘oohs’ from the rest of the men. Pete’s shoulder’s bunch, but otherwise, he ignores his friends. Though she was a civilian contractor, Charlie did work for the DoD, and after her relocation to D.C., Pete was technically on her turf tonight.

“He doesn’t like to talk about it,” Ice deflects.

Pete grabs hold of Goose’s wheelchair, finding it more difficult to maneuver with two passengers.  “I wonder if Penny’s here.”

Carole throws her head back with a guffaw. “After your little joyride? I’d be surprised if her daddy lets her within a thousand feet of you!”

The group doesn’t stick together much longer, inevitably breaking up as they go their separate ways.

“What do you say?” Ice asks, nodding after the group headed to the dancefloor. Eventually, Ice needs to go back to rubbing shoulders with the brass, but there’s no harm in a quick dance or two to break up the monotony.

“That’s okay, Ice,” Slider butts in, a wicked glimmer in his eyes. You repress a shiver when the same hand that had been between your legs squeezes your shoulder, fingers ghosting over the velvet near your collarbone. “You go keep Mav out of trouble. We’ll grab dessert and meet you there.”

The twitch at the corner of his lips gives away how hard Slider is fighting to keep the wolfish grin off his lips. Your ears burn, but Ice’s only reaction is an unenthused, dismissive sound. Both of you know what Slider is playing. That doesn’t stop the pinpricks of arousal from returning as you imagine Slider’s hands—both of them this time—working to finish what he’d started under the table.

“How long have we known each other?” Ice asks Slider.

“Going on ten years.”

“And I can count the number of times I’ve seen you eat cake on one hand,” Ice muses.

Undeterred, Slider offers you a lopsided, wolfish grin, his fingers tracing down your arm and raising goosebumps in their wake. “Who said anything about cake?”

“There it is.” Ice flicks Slider’s fingers from their path and threads his fingers through your own. The same Iceman mask he wears around the tarmac is firmly in place when he levels Slider with a look. “You’re incorrigible.”

“You’re pissy because I had this in the bag before I was interrupted.”

“And how were you planning on getting away with it?” Ice hisses with a glance to make sure the three of you are well enough alone. “Sitting at a table full of people.”

“I had a plan,” Slider scoffs.

“A plan to get caught with your hand up her skirt.”

“You’re just upset you walked right into it.” Ice clenches his teeth. He doesn’t have a responding quip, and Slider knows it. Ice had been too excited by the sudden appearance of Cougar to realize Slider was gunning for a quick win. “All it takes is one mistake,” Slider needles.

Wearing down the competition with technical precision is a page straight out of Ice’s book and his fingers twitch ever so slightly in your grasp, Slider rubbing it in his face that he’s fallen prey to his own game. It’s a mistake he won’t make twice.

Ice takes a deep breath and looks to the barrel-vaulted ceiling as if he’ll find the answers he’s looking for among the gold leafing. “We’re leaving now.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” Slider taunts, but Ice is back on his game. He serves Slider a smug look as he wraps his arm around your waist.

“Goodbye, Kerner.”

In the dance hall, you’re a single drop in a rolling sea. The band is louder here, the floor tacky with spilled beverages, but you find a pocket of space as the music slows. Pete hangs onto the edge of the crowd with Goose and Carole, his face pressed between Goose’s shoulder blades as he helps his best friend stand to dance with his wife—Carole, you’re sure, is crying.

Gentle hands bring your focus back to your partner as he encourages you to step with him to the rhythm. When you look up at him through your lashes, you almost forget the rest of the room. Taken by the flint of his eyes in the low light. A smile bubbles to life on your rouged lips is an inevitability.

You spin beneath his arm and let Ice reel you in until his breath tickles your ear. “You’re stunning.” You glow under the praise, fingers playing with the short hairs at his nape. High praise.

It makes you wonder: does Ice even know what he looks like?

The ever-present tan of his skin highlighted by the contrasting white of his uniform. The smarts. The confidence. A beauty mark on his jaw. High cheekbones. The way he moves.

He has to know. Not for vanity, but for fact. 

“How’re you holding up?” He must pick up on the restless twitch of your muscles or maybe the flutter of your heart in your palm.

You paint on a smile. ”I’m fine.”

You can’t suppress the shudder that wracks you or the sharp intake of breath when he lifts your chin with a finger, lashes brushing your cheeks as a kiss is pressed to your forehead. When he tugs you closer, you go easily, but you’re unable to fully relax into the embrace.

“Did you know you only say you’re fine when you aren’t?” He shifts his hold so it feels more like a hug, a soft quirk to his lips. It’s easier for him to hold you like this when you fade into the crowd. There’s less pressure. Fewer eyes on him when his hand shifts lower, dexterous fingers tracing over the knobs of your spine and raising goosebumps beneath the luxurious drape of your gown.

The band does wonders to mute your gasp, but Ice doesn’t miss the way you jerk in his grasp. Sensitive.

“Was it…?” He doesn’t finish in an overabundance of caution for who may or may not be eavesdropping. The hand you’d let linger near his nape comes to fidget against his chest as you lay your head against his shoulder and nod while focusing on the ba-dum of his heart. “Do you need to leave?”

“No.” Sure, you tingle with each brush of skin on skin. Yes, you’re eager to soak up each touch. But, as you meet his eyes, you mean it. “I’m just a little overwhelmed by all of this,” you fib.

Slider may be pushing the boundaries of decency—may have definitely blown past them during the dinner— and you may be wound tight after so many days without either of their company, but you can do this. Tonight is about Ice, and you intend to see it through.

“But I don’t want to leave.”

Ice keeps you close as the song fades out and the band counts in a fast-paced number. “Look,” Ice concedes when you break free of the dancing. Playtime is over, you can practically see the cogs turning in the metal of his eyes as Ice comes up with a revised plan. “There are still some people I need to talk to, but after, I’ll get us out of–”

“Just the man I was looking for.” Ice stops so abruptly that you stumble into him. “Admiral John Benjamin,” Penny’s father introduces himself, taking Ice’s hand in a firm shake. “Really good stuff on the Enterprise.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The praise, though sparing, is well-deserved. But the obsequious nature of his comment is revealed in the way the admiral’s eyes scan the nearby crowd. Ice isn’t his target.

“Say,” the admiral drawls as he drops all pretenses, “you wouldn’t happen to know where your wingman is? I want to congratulate him on a job well done.”

You very much doubt that, but as you glance over to where Pete had been with Goose and Carole earlier, he’s long gone—Carole helping her husband back into his wheelchair, the only evidence Pete had been there at all. And Ice knows enough through retellings of Pete’s past run-ins with Admiral Benjamin that you trust him not to sell your brother out. At least, not if he doesn’t have to.

“I haven’t seen him since we received our commendation.”

“Of course. Congratulations again on those,” Benjamin clips. “But you must have some sort of idea of his whereabouts.”

“I–”

“Ice. Admiral, sir.” It never ceases to amaze you how someone as large as Slider can so easily fly under the radar when he wants to. “I need to borrow her for a minute,” he says before Ice can say anything, and because he can’t do anything when Admiral Benjamin continues to squeeze for information on Pete, Slider steers you out of the dance hall.

It had been a crisp 66 degrees in DC, the setting of the sun taking what remained of the day’s warmth with it. The cold creeps beneath your skin as Slider beckons you up the roof access, shimming the door with a wad of folded cocktail napkins so you can slip back to the party later.

Though shrouded in darkness on the flat of the rooftop, the bright lights of the capital might as well be a hair’s breadth away. Too close for comfort. Before you can protest, Slider engulfs your hand in his and looks for a more suitable, more private corner. It won’t do to be caught, though Slider doubts anyone will come looking. But it pays to be cautious.

“You have any idea how good you look in this?” Slider rumbles, voice resonating from deep within his chest in a way that makes your insides quake. He lets you know with a demanding kiss, his lips lightly stained with your rouge when he pulls back so you can suck in a breath.

“Sli.” The wind carries your whine toward the street, where it’s drowned by the brassy horns of street traffic. When goosebumps erupt along your arms, your fingers scrabble for his shoulder boards in a bid to keep him close.

It takes next to nothing to convince Slider to give in to your plea. Crowding close as he smears kisses and color down your neck. “It’s been so hard to keep my hands off you.” Said hands grab fistfuls of you over the velvet of your gown; the smooth rasp of the fabric over tender skin makes you gasp.

“You didn’t,” you point out.

“No,” he agrees, fingers reacquainting themselves with the gusset of your panties. “But can you blame me?”

“Who else would I blame?”

Dizzy with desire, you bite the inside of your cheek to keep a heady whine locked away when fingers slip between your pussy lips to tease around your entrance. “Do you want me to stop?” Slider asks with a lopsided, teasing grin.

“Don’t you dare.”

Instead of giving you what you want—two fingers to fill you where you feel hopelessly empty—Slider’s hand withdraws from your panties. You’re a second from demanding he put his hand right back where he had it when Slider lowers himself to the ground. “Wait–!” you exclaim as his first knee touches down on the unkempt rooftop floor “–your pants.”

“Don’t worry,” he says as both of his hands slip under your dress, eager fingers drawing the lacy elastic of your panties down your legs. “That’s what drycleaning’s for.” But his other knee stays decidedly off the ground.

Slider scoots himself closer, impatient hands rucking up your tight-fitting dress until he can take advantage of the slit in your skirt. He hikes your leg over his shoulder, soft skin exposed to the night, but you’re far from cold as he chases the fabric with scorching kisses up the inside of your thigh. Deliberately leaving marks where no one else at this stuffy party will see them.

His hair is just long enough that the tips begin to curl. You spear your fingers through the short waves and fist what you can. Normally, you’d hold him close as he litters your hip with hungry kisses and sharp, rosey blooms, but with the way he’d worked you up earlier, you pull his head toward the apex of your thighs. You can go back to being Ice’s pretty trophy girlfriend after you cum on Slider’s tongue.

Slider lets out a gruff rumble of a chuckle as if he’s read your mind. A nip makes your leg jump in his grasp, your heel knocking against his back, but he’s as eager to get this show on the road as you are.

Face half-obscured by black velvet, Slider’s tongue laps over your clit. Eyes slamming shut, whole body pulsing in time with your heart, head thunking back against the wall. Slack-jawed, you encourage him to do it again with a shuttered but wanton noise in the back of your throat.

“That’s it,” Slider encourages, his other hand reaching up to massage your ass and drag your hips forward in a slick grind against his mouth. You tremble in his grasp as he continues to roll your hips against his face before he opts for a new angle of attack.

A quick reposition of the leg over Slider’s shoulder grants him better access for a more thorough assault on your cunt, and your back arches when his tongue prods at your entrance. Blood roars in your ears while your walls clench around nothing at the promise of his tongue, but it only teases at your lips.

You try to drag him closer with your one leg, letting go of Slider’s hair with one hand to steady yourself against the wall. Sli takes that moment to dive in, tongue finally fucking into you and his nose bumping into your clit in a way that has your heart stuttering and limbs shaky. Your hips jolt at the touch, back arching off the wall.

It’s messy, the pinpricks of Slider’s stubble eased by the mix of arousal and spit coating the apex of your thighs. The barely muffled slurp as he parts your lips and delves his tongue inside before engulfing your clit in the wet heat of his mouth and giving it a suck.

Slider’s eyes are half-lidded when he meets your gaze. “You’re close,” he breathes, calloused fingers petting up your leg directly to your clit and drinking in the shiver it knocks loose, your lips red as you bite back a moan. “Don’t worry,” he says, two fingers dipping the slightest bit into your cunt before drawing back to rub at the opening, “we’ll get you there this time.”

Against your back, the wall rattles as the roof access bangs open.

Next Chapter

[latibvles]

APOCALYPSE AU? APOCALYPSE AU.

okay guys who asked for mouse hole apocalypse au. nobody? well here it is anyway under the cut because I have lots of thoughts and feelings:

Willie! Willie is with her little brother Otto. I think they lose their parents fairly early on in everything and Willie works hard to keep them both alive. There’s also essentially 0 people she trusts and so she and Otto stick to themselves stick to their guns and try to make it day-by-day

Enter Viv who’s been on her own since this thing started — she and Willie probably meet via “getting each other out of a sticky situation” and then ending up stuck together like glue because of course they do.

I feel like Benny and June have been surviving together since it hit Chicago but didn’t know each other prior. What if we met trying to loot the same corner store xx

Jo has a medic-y role in this verse. No idea how she comes into the mix but I like the idea of her treating people’s bumps and bruises (bite angst, anybody?)

Harrie starts off pretty okay until a hoard tears up the family farm. In the most non-gimmicky way possible, she carries one of her baby chicks around for quite some time because she loses her family. She can save this, preserve it, etc.

I think Lorraine and Lena might be attached together. Maybe Lorraine’s siblings too (Otto needs friends his own age guys). Lena’s got a car that gets them far enough out of the city

On that note Carrie being with a different group, but getting picked up by Benny and June? That’s a look. (It was Benny’s idea, he’s got a big heart and she’s a kid)

I haven’t quite decided where Fern comes into the mix either. But we all know she’s smarter than she looks. She might be in the viv boat of “lone survivor until she isn’t” but per her personality — a lot more charismatic about it

Inez and Macon meet first in this, and they pick up Alex a little later while they’re heading up North. They definitely save his life and he’s their emotional support Arts person as Cari so brilliantly put it

SOME EXTRA STUFF I’M SO NORMAL ABOUT:

Benny has his beard in this one, guys. He grows it during a winter and June makes fun of him for it because she’s a terror

Bucky also has the POW camp curls

Okay so maybe half this AU is just getting them as dirty as possible but it’s not my fault they look good when enduring horrors

Buck/Bucky/Marge/Brady is a survival group. The Three Bs all met in college. Brady is Marge’s favorite that isn’t Buck

Eventually all these little groups come together in one way or another. The Three Bs + Marge meet Viv Willie and Otto in a warehouse on an abandoned airstrip and that’s where they decide to settle

^^ If you need visual inspo, Prescott from The Walking Dead: The New Frontier

I'm playing with somebody in this gaggle of not-flyboys & flygirls getting bit... for yanno.... fun and fresh reasons (maybe Bubbles)

Can we tell I haven't thought about how all the guys get there eventually? Sue me.

I do think this AU needs more Harding

[thedroneranger]

The Drone Ranger's Be Kind Rewind ⏪ mygyn Edition!

A rec reblog series dedicated to the fics that we love so much, we've re-read them!

The next Rewind has landed: @mygyn! Look, mygyn did the most in the best way. They did a deep dive to share some of their hidden gems.

While we continue to churn out amazing new content, let's be kind and rewind to look at some of the OG content we love. And don't forget to reblog when you re-read! Continue to show your comfort fics and favorite creators some love. It helps keep the fresh content coming :)

We want to keep this going throughout the summer, so I'll continue to invite friends—other creators and readers—to share their lists. Stay tuned!

If you're interested in participating in the Be Kind Rewind, message me. The more, the merrier—let's keep this going as long as we can!

If you want to know when a new Rewind drops, join the tag list, and check out previous Rewinds!

fics below the cut (listed in alphabetical order by title)

 ‘86 Flyboy Matchmaker, '86 Top Gun pilots, @semperhuggs This is a piece of art! I 100% am a fiend for a good IceMav story! So often, I fall into the trap of reading X Reader and inserting myself into the story, but if you want a classic story that goes through the pain that Ice and Mav would have felt during DADT, this 100% is a story for you to check out (There are several offshoots that are a chef's kiss as well).

Angel by the Wings , Jake Seresin + Bradley Bradshaw, @makethatelevenrings Okay, can I say that love this. 10/10 for great representation. Jake and Roo and you. I’m a huge, huge sucker for threesomes so seeing an ethical one where all parties are equal and consensual is a huge win.

Great Balls of Fire, Bradley Bradshaw, @bratshaws As a plus-sized reader myself, the story of Bee and Roo has had me smiling laughing and crying, along with the insecurities that come along with being so fabulous! If you want a story that tackles the real and vulnerabilities of a relationship, I 100% suggest this one. Also, fun fact: This was the first story that I fell in love with on Tumblr. 

Golden Barn Light, Jake Seresin, @siempre-bucky  This blog hasn’t posted any stories recently, but this was the first story that made me fall in love with Hangman. It explored his softer side, his love for his family and, quite frankly, was an adorable read. 

I had to let go of you to find myself, Jake Seresin, @gennyanydots Speaking of Hangman, if you want to read an angst story with redemption, love and, in my opinion, one of the most accurate descriptions of Hangman, and how he would deal with trauma, this is a winner.

Sleepy Baby, Jake Seresin, @discount-shades Soft Jake what is this… I think I’m just an angst lover! But Jake meets a girl and ends up tracking her down to help her overcome her tragic backstory and moves forward into a life of love and relationship! 

Starting Over, Bradley Bradshaw + Jake Seresin x Natasha Trace, @bellaireland1981  What’s this? Jake has a sister who married an asshole? Do we get to see soft Jake and Phoenix? Yes. Do we get to see Bradley and Jake's sister? Yes. Do we get to see Daddy Roo? 100. This story fills each and every one of my boxes. 

Stepping to You Toe to Toe, Jake Seresin, @dingochef I first fell in love with this story on A03, but the amazing and wonderful author has brought it over to Tumblr. If you want a story with plenty of smexy time plot, and to see several beautiful relationships grow and bloom, this is the one for you. 

The Same Mistakes, Bradley Bradshaw, @ofstoriesandstardust This list wouldn’t be complete without Rebel. This is a story where Rebel Mav’s daughter is a pilot and goes through the trauma of having a Father who is notorious in the Navy and she has to overcome his reputation and find her own wings to fly.

you said you would grow old with me, Bradley Bradshaw, @blue-aconite If you need to cry, this is the one for you. I’m a sucker for angst apparently. This is an amazing piece that covers loss, love, and it shows a great example of putting the one you love before yourself.

Bonus!

Since I don’t write but am an avid reader and reblogger, here are some amazing authors that I know will be featured at some point <3

@roosterforme

@ereardon

@callsign-magnolia

@cherrycola27

I literally would recommend anything that they have written. If you want angst, smut, great story lines, these four are my go-to’s.

Tag list and friends: @petcr3 @desert-fern @Sagittarius-Lovewitch @mygyn @sweetwhispersofchaos @horseshoegirl @the-annoying-fan @dingochef @moon42flight @thecitysgraveyard @galaxy-of-stories @taytaylala12@malindacath @violyn20 @awildewit @potato-girl99981 @shanimallina87 @blue-aconite @djs8891 @linkpk88 @furiousladyking @daggerspare-standingby @princess76179 @jstarr86 @hecate-steps-on-me @darkheartcherry @soulmates8 @roosters-girl @dempy @roosterisdaddy36 @hangmanscoming @s-u-t @mavrellover91 @chicomonks @averyhotchner 

A kind reminder, this is a 18+ blog. While not all stories in the recommendation list are 18+, please respect boundaries and do not interact unless you are 18 years of age or older.

[crazyk-imagine]

Hi, sorry for the radio silence!

If your requests are open, can I ask for a wolfman x reader where the flyboys see the sonogram in Leo’s locker (he keeping it a secret but acting a little different) from the fwb fic?

I understand if you deny this request and respect your decision!

Sorry again,

Your biggest fan!

Sonograms

Pairing: Leonard “Wolfman” Wolfe x Civilian! Pregnant!reader

Characters: Leonard “Wolfman” Wolfe (Henry “Wolfman” Ruth), Civilian! Pregnant!reader

Warnings: Fluff, I had fun with this one, I am very proud of Goose in this one, especially of one phrase he says (hehe), the guys love her, Iceman knows about everyone and the recent tea, Ron's a dad now, Charls and reader cannot go a day without betting, it's becoming a problem... or is it?, why is this so cute?, who authorized this amount of cuteness, the guys are such gossiping hens

Word Count: 1,774

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

One month later…

“This is really happening,” you tell the two.

“I guess it is,” she nods.

“Yeah,” Leonard nods. “What are we talking about?”

Charlotte takes a deep breath, keeping her comments to herself. “I’m still surprised you’re having his baby.”

“So am I, Charls. So am I.”

“Hey. Why are you two ganging up on me?”

“We’re not,” you turn to face your friend, “are we?”

She shrugs and snatches the instructions from your hands and flips back to page one. “Okay, this- this just isn’t working. Should it be this hard to put a crib together?”

Leonard shrugs and tries to screw the bars for one of the side panels. “No.”

“No one asked you,” she snaps back.

You chuckle, “you just did.”

“I’m pretty sure it was a rhetorical question.”

She nods, pointing to him. “I knew I liked him.”

Your bottom lip sticks out as you fight the urge to fight back. Maybe a joke would be a better thing to say, lighten the mood a little. “I’m pretty sure you told me you hated him when you realized how close he was with your ex-boytoy and his best friend.”

“You’re a liar. She’s lying,” she hands him the screw he’s looking for.

“It’s okay, he didn’t like you either.”

“What?” Her head snaps over in his direction.

“I never said that. She’s lying,” he turns to you. “Stop talking, stop saying things. The changes you’re going through are making it harder on you to keep these things to yourself so just,” he shushes you.

There was a bit of tension in the air as Charlotte and Leonard finished building the crib. 

-

Two weeks later

He quickly places the latest sonogram picture back into his locker at the sound of the guys coming in.

“We missed you up there… again.” Nick claps him on the shoulder.

He's quiet and doesn't respond, which isn't like Leonard, at all. It instantly puts the troublemaker on edge.

“Where’s your head at?” Pete asks.

“You’ve been off,” Rick comments, also wondering what’s going on with his friend.

“Nothing. It’s nothing- I haven’t- shut up.” He tries to fight the urge to blurt out the truth, but he knows you aren't quite ready for anyone else to know just yet.

You're trying to plan on having a gender reveal party- or something similar to that. He can't quite remember what you said, all he knows is that if you do plan on throwing a party, you'll be stressing out a lot.

"Maybe his old lady finally has him by the- well," Nick pauses, giving the guys a second to think. "You know what I mean."

Pete shoves his friend’s shoulder while Rick throws a crumbled paper ball at him. "Knock it off, knucklehead."

"She's not like that," Leonard chimes in, defending you.

"Is it that one chick you were talking to at the bar a while back?" Pete asks, taking his arms out of his sleeves, tying them around his waist so he can cool off.

"Uh- I mean, which- uh- who are you talking about?"

"The one who's close with Charlie, right?" Nick adds.

Pete grimaces with an affirmative nod. "Yeah, her."

"She's nice," Rick adds.

"If it is that one, I like her. She keeps you in line."

The cowboy hat lover let's out a fake chuckle, "you're so nice man. Yeah, it's her."

"You finally manned up and asked her out on a real date instead of lying to yourself. Dare I say," he wipes away a fake tear. "I'm proud of you."

Pete pouts. "Wait- now I'm lost."

"What he said? We need some background information," the mustached man gestures to him and his partner in crime.

Leonard rolls his eyes and quickly nudges his locker open just enough for him to grab his helmet, except he knocks it against the inside of the door and knocks off his pictures.

"I’ll help you," Rick offers, since his locker is right next to Leonard’s. He picks up a few random pictures everyone has seen (since they're more or less likely in them) and then he stumbles across a very special one. "What's this?"

Nick furrows his brows at the question and leans over, his brows instantly shooting up when he starts at the black and white, very familiar photo. "Oh, yeah. Dude, I'm going to need some background information like now because that," he points to it. "Is not something you can easily avoid. Also, congrats. Now you'll understand my struggle."

"And, what's that?" Leonard asks, snatching the photos from Rick's hands.

"Running on five hours or less of sleep with a newborn. I mean," he glances him up and down. "That is, if you two are going to do this together and you didn't leave her high and dry because, I'm not going to lie that'd be- the ultimate dick move."

"I'm pretty sure they're together, Goose."

"We'll, I can't just assume. What if she mailed him a letter and gave him a choice but he hasn't made one yet or he did and that sonogram is a reminder of what two people can create in the heat of the moment whether they love each other or not, huh. Explain that Mav."

Rick shakes his head and slaps the back of their heads. "You two, shut up. Wolf, what happened?"

"Uh, well-" He scratches the back of his neck. "We were "seeing" each other for a bit and then she left one night and then it was over."

"Oh, that's makes sense now."

"What makes sense?" Tom asks, with Ron coming in behind him.

"We finally got the official answer about why cowboy was depressed a few months ago," Nick tells him.

"It was a girl, wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

"I already knew that."

"Okay," he pushes past Pete and Rick so he can lean against the lockers closer to the blond. "But now we know our infamous Wolfman, has some- well, I don't mean to be crass but," he claps Leonard on the shoulder (again). "He's got some excellent cowboys in his holster."

It took everyone a moment to realize what exactly Nick is talking about and everyone in the room groaned.

"I know. I know, I'm not proud of it either but it was the best I could come up with."

"So..." Tom starts.

"Yes?" Nick replies.

"Not talking to you."

"Rude."

"Are you two-"

"I'm not going to miss anything in the bubbles life." The corners of his lips twitch upwards. "We just built the crib."

"Wow..." Pete nods.

"How long did it take?" The mustached man asks.

"It would have been smoother had Charlie not tried to steal everything. I had to restart everything she did."

"Wait until the mood swings come."

Ron shakes his head with a groan, "don't remind me."

"How old are your kids again, Slider?" Pete asks.

"Tony's going to be three in four months and Lindsay just turned one."

"One already? It seems like they were just born yesterday," Leonard says.

"Wait, till you understand that feeling... dad."

Leonard groans, laying down on the bench, placing his hat over his eyes. "Shut up, Pete."

"Never."

"Better him than me."

"You're both equally bad," Tom points out, glaring at Nick.

"But now you know a little bit of what you have to look forward to," Ron nudges him.

"Yeah, oh, I remember when we first heard Bradley's heartbeat. I cried."

"The heartbeat can make any man cry," Tom points out.

"Is there something you're trying to tell us, Icepop?" Nick asks.

"You're hearing things, mother goose."

"Not helping." Leonard pushes himself up.

"The most helpful thing we can say is, congratulations again and then we call your future baby mama and pass along the same-"

"No!"

Nick and Pete glance at one another with their eyebrows raised.

"You weren't supposed to tell anyone, we're you?" Tom chimes in, asking the very question they were thinking.

"I have to go out now, come on, H-Wood."

Leonard grabs his friend by his collar, forcing him out of the room.

-

Charlotte hangs up and grabs yours and her lunch. "I owe you."

You shake your head, "no you don't."

"I do. You won."

"He squealed."

She nods, sitting down on the couch beside you. "He did. The guys know and I'm sure Viper's going to know before the end of the day."

"Never bet against me. You know that."

She sets her cup down and quickly swallows her sip so she can whine. "Don't be mean. I get it, you're the queen of bets."

"Damn right I am."

"Should you be cursing around the baby like that?"

Your smile instantly falls from your face. "Oh my god. Mini wolf's first word is going to be some curse word, isn't it?"

"As long as you don't do it often... maybe you'll be fine?"

"You're not helping!"

"Don't start crying again, please."

-

"Oh, thank god you're back- oh," Charlotte holds the door open for Leonard and the others to walk through the door. "Why are there more of you?"

"Well, they- uh-"

"We know they know but why are they here?"

"We wanted to say hi," Nick chimes in, with Pete right beside him.

She narrows her eyes at the two and sighs. "Fine, come on in. You better have brought food, at least. We do have someone who's eating for two."

"We did," Tom lifts one of the many bags they have.

"Thank god, one of you was smart."

-

You walk down the hall at the sound of many people talking, people you know you weren't expecting. "Hello?"

"Hi, baby." Leonard pecks your cheek, "and baby." He places his hand on your belly, smiling. "How is our little bubbles?"

"Growing... but I was actually thinking of changing their name."

"Oh?"

"What do you think about mini wolf?"

"I think our baby's going to be very confused when they're born."

You nod, "yeah but I want to have a cuter nickname because you make me and mini wolf happy."

He smiles. "I’m happy to know that but I think bubbles was always a cute nickname. Now come on." He grabs your hand, "we brought a feast."

"Really?"

"Of things you probably shouldn't be eating but, we'll deal with better now."

-

"So," Nick says, extending the word. "Any names picked out?"

"Not yet."

"It'll come to you in the moment."

You smile and nod, "I hope so."

"Okay, we need to hear it from the source," Ron interrupts.

You furrow your brows. "Hear what?"

"What exactly happened?"

"Finally, things are getting interesting," Charlotte mutters.

"Can it, Charls."

Previously: Part I

[littlemisskittentoes]

10 Shows in 10 GIFs

HI FRIENDS! i’ve been tagged in so many silly funny fun games lately. i’m loving it. thank you to my darling @read-and-write- and @onthewaytosomewhere for the tags!! adding my own after the cut 💖

Rules: Post gifs from your 10 favourite shows without naming them, then tag 10 people.

in no particular order…

tag, you’re it! @happiness-of-the-pursuit @inexplicablymine @leojfitz @gay-flyboys @songliili

@read-and-write- @gayrootvegetable @mcgregor-ewan @affectionatelyrs

@anincompletelist @kiwiana-writes @wordsofhoneydew @itsmaybitheway @firenati0n

@cactusdragon517 @msmarvelouswinchester @tailsbeth-writes @starrypiscesao3 @everwitch-magiks

@thesleepyskipper @blueeyedgrlwrites @benwvatt