#miles teller drabble

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Request for Rooster please :) basically fluff, not sure if you have something like this already but something along the line of y/n being a pilot as well, Rooster falling for them and trying to potentially impress them? Trying to confess before his chance is loss because he sees hangman around y/n time to time but Rooster doesn’t find out (immediately) that hangman and y/n are siblings so Rooster is torn between confessing or not (he does end up confessing)

Ahh thank you for the super cute request! I have a thing for writing sisters, you know ;)

Worst Day Ever

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Seresin Sister!Reader

CW: Just a lil drabble, nothing fancy. A little cheesy. A bit fluffy. A lot goofy. The star of this show is Nat XD

WC: ~1100

“This is the worst day ever.”

Natasha looks over at Bradley as he moodily packs up his things at the end of the briefing. She grins in amusement. “You sound like a toddler.”

Bradley exhales gloomily and directs his gaze toward the front of the room where you stand, chatting with Bagman. “What does she see in that dirtbag?” he makes a face of disgust.

“I guess she sees his abs.” Natasha shrugs.

Bradley gives her a flat look. “Not you too.”

“What?” she exclaims with a laugh. “I’m not denying that he’s got a shit personality.” She glances over at you and Jake. “But he’s easy on the eyes, what can I say?”

“Maybe I should challenge him to a push up contest,” Bradley muses.

“Dude, we’re in the military.” Natasha shakes her head. “Push ups are not going to impress her.”

“But his abs did the trick?”

Natasha purses her lips. “Have you seen him flex?”

“Maybe you should bag him,” Bradley proposes sourly. Then, he adds, “Actually, that’s not a half bad idea!”

“No,” Natasha responds curtly and starts for the door.

“C’mon, Trace. I will owe you.” Bradley trails after her. “I will pay you.”

Natasha stops just short of the door. “To do what?”

“We’ll invite them to the Hard Deck. You distract Bagman –”

“No,” Natasha repeats, exiting the room.

“I thought you had my back!” Bradley calls after her as the rest of the aviators assigned to the mission start filing out into the hallway.

“Someone leave you hangin’, Rooster?” Jake asks playfully as he walks by.

Bradley flashes an annoyed look in his direction and sees that you’re walking alongside him. He locks eyes with you briefly – for the first time ever – and then glances back at Jake irritably. “Don’t worry, Bagman. That’s still your undisputed domain.”

Jake scoffs while you drop your head to hide a smile.

“Hey Bagman!” Natasha calls from down the hall.

Bradley looks up to see her doubling back.

“You guys want to join us at the Hard Deck tonight?” she asks casually.

Jake raises his eyebrows in surprise, so shocked at the invitation that he doesn’t respond right away.

That’s when you say, “Sure! We’ll be there!”

…

“Drink as much as you want, Phoenix,” Bradley says giddily. “It’s on me.”

“You bet your ass it is,” Natasha says, taking a swig of beer. “I’m going to need it.”

Bradley doesn’t have a chance to laugh because that’s when you and Jake enter the bar.

The two of you make your way over to Bradley and Natasha’s table. Jake is scowling but your smile is bright enough for the both of you.

“Hey!” Bradley says, rising from his seat to greet you.

Jake gives him a dirty look and Bradley squares his shoulders to appear a little taller. Jake might have gotten to you first but that doesn't mean that Bradley can't, at least, try.

“How’s it going?” you say as you take a seat and Bradley could swear they’re the three sweetest words he’s ever heard in his life.

“Great,” he responds, beaming at you like an idiot.

“So good,” Natasha responds absently, downing the remainder of her beer. “I need a refill.”

Jake, who is just about to sit down, rises again with an irritable sigh. “What’re you drinking?” he asks.

Natasha grimaces at him. “I can get my own beer,” she responds, also getting up.

Jake gives her a phony grin. “I guess you’re used to it,” he bites back.

You elbow Jake aggressively in his leg and he nearly loses his balance. “Be nice,” you warn him.

Bradley watches Natasha and Jake head to the bar together, surprised that you’re familiar enough with Jake to physically assault him considering the briefing this morning was only the third time you’ve met. Bradley wonders if maybe you know Jake from before; that would explain your allegiance.

“I’m glad you guys came,” Bradley says to you, not really sure how else to start a conversation with a girl who’s more or less spoken for.

You smile at him. “Yeah, thanks for the invite!”

“Of course,” Bradley responds. He decides not to mention that the entire night was orchestrated just so he could spend time with you.

“Jake’s pretty excited.”

Bradley lifts his eyebrows dubiously and looks over at Jake who’s at the bar with Natasha. “He’s got a weird way of showing it.”

You laugh. “Oh, he’s far too ‘badass’ to show it.”

Bradley snorts and looks back at you with a grin. “I like you,” he says before he can stop himself.

You chuckle slightly and lower you gaze without responding.

“I mean it,” he says.

You shift slightly in your seat and change the subject. “Your low altitude pass yesterday was pretty awesome,” you say.

Bradley grins and straightens his posture proudly. “You saw that?”

“It was hard to miss.” You cringe slightly. “Cyclone was so mad, I'm surprised you didn't hear him yelling from the cockpit.”

Bradley winces. “Yeah, I may have gotten into some trouble. But hey, if it means you noticed me, it was worth it.” He lets out a chuckle.

You smile, your eyes resting on his. "I noticed you," you admit.

Bradley keeps his gaze on you, releasing a guilty sigh. What's he doing flirting with you when Jake has clearly already shown interest? He hangs his head sullenly and says, "Look, I don’t know what you and Bagman have going on –”

“Umm,” you interject, holding up a hand. Bradley looks up at you, already nauseated because he’s fairly certain you’re about to tell him off. Instead, you proceed to say, “You know he’s my brother, right?”

Bradley blinks at you in awe. After several lengthy seconds, he says, “Shut the fuck up.”

You start laughing. “What did you think?”

Bradley drops his face in his hands, embarrassed and relieved in equal measure. “That’s why you like him.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” you mutter sarcastically.

Bradley nearly chokes. “You’re hilarious,” he says.

You lean into the table toward him. “And you’re cute.”

Bradley stares at you in amazement and then grins sheepishly. “I’m so glad you think so.”

“Alright kids,” Bradley hears Jake’s voice and realizes that he and Natasha have approached the table. “We’re gonna call it a night.”

“What? Already?” Bradley exclaims, looking up at them. He instantly observes that Jake is holding Natasha’s hand. “Oh,” Bradley adds, meeting Natasha’s gaze with an amused grin. “Well, this is turning out to be an alright day.”

Natasha shoots him a threatening look but says not a word.

“Bradshaw,” Jake says, narrowing his eyes as he glances between you and Bradley pointedly. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

Bradley solutes him with a nod and a smirk and then says, “You have yourself a good night, Seresin.”

Rooster Tag List:

The rest of the list will be in the comments.

@rosiahills22

@olliepig

@xoxabs88xox

@callsignvenus

@atarmychick007

@shanimallina87

@wkndwlff

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@marvelshoney

@sarcastic-sourwolf

[bradshawsbaby]

“you’re freezing, come here.”

I can totally see this as Bradley or Jake. Maybe more Jake. I'm always cold and wear sweatshirts 😂

Woohoo, I got through all of them! This was the last of the prompt requests I received!

It was that time of year where the weather could be cruelly deceptive. You’d be baking in the sun all day, comfortable in a sundress or shorts, but as soon as the sun started to go down, a chill crept into your bones, a reminder that the bite of winter hadn’t yet disappeared completely.

Despite knowing this, you still weren’t prepared for the cold breeze that blew in off the water as you sat around a bonfire on the beach with your fiancé and your friends. In all fairness, it had been a rather impromptu get-together, but you were still kicking yourself for not having a sweatshirt in the car.

You’d been attempting to inch yourself closer to the fire, surreptitiously rubbing away the goosebumps that were rising on your arms. Clad in only a T-shirt and a flimsy pair of leggings, you were growing colder and colder the longer you sat there.

“Want to go for a walk, honey?” Bradley whispered against your ear, his strong arm sliding around your waist as he sat down beside you. His body felt so warm that you instinctively cuddled up closer to him.

You bit your bottom lip as you contemplated leaving the warmth of the fire, but the thought of sharing a little alone time with your soon-to-be-husband was too good to pass up. “Okay,” you nodded, slipping your hands into Bradley’s and smiling as he lifted you up off the ground.

With your hands intertwined, you and Bradley broke away from the rest of the group and began strolling along the shoreline, dipping your bare toes into the water as you talked softly about your plans for the future.

You were trying very hard to focus on what Bradley was saying, but this close to the water, the chill that had settled over you earlier sank deeper into your bones until your back ached from trying to contain your trembling.

“Honey, are you alright?” Bradley asked, stopping you both in your tracks and turning to look at you.

“Hm? Yeah, I’m fine,” you fibbed, reluctantly dropping his hand so that you could cross your arms over your chest.

He looked you up and down slowly, then chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Baby, you’re freezing. Come here,” he murmured, spreading his arms wide so that you could walk right into them.

You had never been more thankful for the fact that your fiancé was a space heater in human form.

“Why didn’t you say something?” he demanded, dropping a kiss on your forehead and turning so that you were headed back in the direction of the bonfire, and away from the water.

You shrugged, snuggling up closer against his side. “I don’t know, I guess I was just trying to ignore it,” you admitted.

“I left one of my hoodies in the Bronco. Let’s go grab it,” he told you, rubbing one large hand up and down your arm.

Sighing happily, you rested your head against his shoulder. “You’re the best.”

late night prompts

[sunlightmurdock]

‘Friendship’ Bracelets — Rooster x Bambi (18+)

Synopsis: Rooster gets half of a friendship bracelet

Warnings: unabashed size kink, unprotected sex, pinv, creampies

…

You sigh softly, lifting your head from his chest and propping your chin up on your palm. Rooster’s brows knit together, his muscles tensing under you as there’s another near miss for his team. He relaxes again and brings his beer bottle to his lips, taking a long drink and then setting it back down on the floor beside the couch.

“You okay, baby?” Rooster hums without managing to tear his gaze away from the screen, smoothing his palm along your back. You turn your gaze to the rain pouring on the window, and then to the football game on the television.

“Mm.” You shrug, pushing yourself up from where you’re laying on his chest, stretching your arms up above your head. “Bored.”

“I can fuck you at half-time, if you want.” He jokes, tucking an arm behind his head and shifting to find comfort again now that you aren’t acting as his weighted blanket.

Your lips quirk, rolling your eyes playfully as you turn away from him in search of something to occupy your Sunday stuck inside. He won’t play a board game with you, and you don’t want him to break one of your puzzles trying to mash the pieces together with his big fingers. Reading sounds like too much effort. You sigh softly and pull open your closet.

There’s usually something entertaining that you have forgotten that you own in here. Bradley gasps and grumbles something discontentedly from the living room as you rifle through the closet.

He looks up as you wander back in, grinning at him and holding a little plastic box.

“What’s that?”

“My friendship bracelet kit, I’m gonna make us matching ones.” You explain, setting the box down on the coffee table and sitting down on the floor with your back to the couch. Rooster hums to show his interest, stroking your hair back away from his neck.

“That’s nice.”

“What colours should we have?” You ask him as his thumb strokes absent-mindedly along the exposed curve of your neck, stopping at the collar of your sweatshirt.

“Purple and gold.” He replies, nodding towards the television. Immediately, you scrunch your face up in distaste. With your back to him, he doesn’t see that. You peer down into the box and hide the purple thread under the green.

“I don’t have purple.” It’s an innocent, little white lie that means you don’t have to walk around with an ugly Minnesota Vikings bracelet on. Rooster doesn’t even notice.

“Whatever you want, baby.” He decides, taking another sip from his beer bottle. His lips quirk softly as he rests the chilled glass against the exposed back of your neck and watches you squirm away from it. You smack his leg and scowl at him, he winks at you and settles back some to watch the game again.

Making your own bracelet is easy work, you’ve been doing it since you were six. You pick out pink, blue and yellow threads, twisting them intricately around each other until you’ve got a thread long enough to fit around your wrist.

“Will you tie it for me?” You turn to Bradley, pushing yourself onto your knees. His eyes never once leave the screen as he reaches for the two ends of the bracelet. “Not too tight, but don’t let it fall off either.”

“Mhm.” He frowns at the game and glances quickly downwards to make sure he’s doing it right, securing it in a knot and dropping your wrist. “Looks pretty, Bambi.”

You turn back around and start working on his bracelet immediately, braiding the threads together until they should be long enough. You grab his arm from where it’s resting against his middle, wrapping the bracelet around as much of his wrist as it’ll cover.

Frowning, you drop his arm and turn back around to fix the length of it. His arm’s just bigger than you had anticipated. Adding an extra little bit, you turn again and pick up his wrist. He lets you without complaint, too focused on the end of the first half.

The thread almost fits, you could maybe make it fit if he was willing to compromise on his blood circulation. Frowning again, you drop his arm and watch it flop back down against the couch.

He doesn’t react, brows raised in anticipation as the quarterback heads towards the end zone. You reach out delicately and take his arm again, this time shifting around and extending your forearm beside his.

“Almost finished?” He asks.

“Mm, almost,” You answer quietly, placing your open palm in his, stretching your fingers out to see how far they are from the tips of his.

Glancing back up at his face, he sips on his beer, oblivious. You trail your index finger along the veins in his forearm, up onto the firm skin of his bicep.

He’s always wandering around here shirtless, even on days like today when it’s miserable and drizzly outside, he’s still warm under your touch. You’re wearing a sweater and a big t-shirt, fuzzy socks and grey sweats, and he’s still warmer than you are.

You exhale quickly and turn back around to your little workstation, picking up more thread. You wonder what size gloves he wears in the ring. Then, you try to shake that thought from your head all together and focus on the wholesome activity you had chosen for the afternoon.

Rooster’s hand is on the back of your neck again. Just an absent-minded need to be touching you, his thumb stroking along the top of your spine delicately. You’ve never noticed how softly he touches you before now, wondering to yourself if he has to hold back — if he knows how strong he is.

“Damn it!” He yells from behind you, fingers squeezing softly around the curve of your neck. You tense, glancing up towards the screen, then slowly turning to peer back at him over your shoulder. He softens and squeezes at your neck again, an apologetic smile tugging at his lips. “Sorry, baby, didn’t mean to make you—“

He stops, brows furrowing as you drop the bracelet to the ground and push yourself up from the floor, swinging a knee over his hips swiftly. You brace your palms against his broad shoulders, kissing him hard before you’ve even settled in his lap.

Instinctively, his hands find your hips and he pulls you down hard against his groin. You pull back just to tug your sweatshirt over your head, groaning in frustration as your arm gets stuck in the struggle and then your necklace catches on the collar of the sweatshirt.

“Slow down, I’ve got you.” Rooster chuckles softly as he sits up and untangles you from the nice little straight jacket you had just made for yourself. You drop the sweater and the t-shirt to the ground at once, sitting in his lap in just your bra and your sweats. “Is there like a go button on you somewhere? — where the hell did that come from?”

You place both palms, flat and open, on his bare chest and push against his muscles, feeling them flex against your hands as he doesn’t let you push him back. “Just want you.”

Rooster’s lips quirk softly as he relents and allows you to push him down against the couch, his head resting against the arm. “Sure, but that doesn’t answer my question. Kinda leapt on me out of nowhere, baby.”

You shrug your shoulders and squirm around him as you quick your sweats and socks off, his body heat does more for you than they did anyway.

Taking his hands in yours, you open them up and place them on your skin. He curls his hands around your ribcage and flexes his palms softly, keeping you in place.

“Fuck.” You exhale softly. His brows knit together a little, cocking his head. Trying to figure out what’s got you so flustered all of a sudden. You smooth your fingertips over his collarbones, the swell of his broad shoulders, over his thick arms.

His hands trail innocently, coming down to rest against your thighs on either side of his hips. Palms open, he squeezes softly at your legs, still confused but not complaining as you grind yourself against the growing tent in his shorts.

“I can’t wait, I just really need you.” You rush out, all in one big breath, pressing your palms harder against his chest. Rooster’s lips tug at a smile as he nods slowly at you.

“Alright, it’s alright,” He sits up and presses his chest into yours swiftly, hooking an arm around your middle and lifting you so that he can push his shorts down. You hum as his thick fingers nudge your underwear to the side and swipe between your legs gently. “Fuck, baby, you’re soaked.”

Grabbing a handful of the short hair at the back of his head, you kiss eagerly at his neck as he works his fingers into you. You could whine and argue as much as you want, he isn’t going to give you anything more until he’s satisfied that you’ll be able to take him.

His fingers curl upwards, massaging that spongy spot inside of you that makes you dig your nails into his shoulders. Mewling into his neck, fucking yourself down onto his thick fingers. The game long forgotten, Rooster shoves his boxers down and withdraws his fingers, grabbing your hips instead.

You slowly sink down on him, taking in his tip. A soft squeak slips your lips. He squeezes softly at your thighs again. His eyes shut, preventing himself from grabbing your hips and forcing you down to take him in all at once.

He breathes out hard and grabs the back of your neck, pulling you into a bruising kiss. You whimper softly against him. You breathe out softly through your nose, pushing your chest against his as you sink the rest of the way onto his length. Rooster grabs your hips with both hands and pulls you tight against him, driving himself as deep as he possibly can.

You lift yourself just slightly, rocking back down once again, finding a soft rhythm. Sinking up and down on his length. More full than you’ve ever felt. Head lulled back. His hands, big and strong, squeeze your middle and guide you on him.

You pick up speed, your bodies sloppily colliding as he kisses the salt from your skin, peppering his mouth over every inch of skin that he can reach.

Rooster moans, desperate and panting into your chest, fingers bruising your skin. You arch your back, grabbing onto his thigh for support as you fuck yourself on him. He squeezes softly at your hips, sliding his hands down to your ass instead.

“Bra — ungh — Bradley — I’m gonna — I’m-“ You can’t manage real words right now, interrupted by his mouth on yours anyway. He grabs a handful of your hair and tugs as his other arm tucks around your waist and keeps you steady as he pounds into you.

You cum, careening against him, his arms keeping you steady. Panting hard, you’re locked in his embrace as he drives into you, relentless. Overstimulation creeping in, your thighs tremble around his as he spills into you.

Mind hazed, you hum as you fall forwards against his chest, a soft smile on your lips. He groans, resting his head back against the arm, closing his eyes.

“So you get off on doing arts and crafts now or something?” Bradley asks, squeezing you in his arms. Your cheeks burn at the notion as you shake your head and settle down against his chest.

“Or something.”

…

[strawhbrrries]

bradley “rooster” bradshaw + poison by bell biv devoe

His hands were holding your waist as you danced on him, sweaty and tipsy. His lips right by your ear, chuckling as you sang along to whatever music was playing. He didn’t know, too busy being captivated by you. He didn’t know you, hadn’t seen you before tonight. You knew him, knew his connection to your father, but you didn’t care to tell him. Too captivated by the gruffness of his voice, captivated by the way he’d lean down to speak directly into your ear so you could hear him over the music, too captivated by the charming smile he’d played to get you onto the dance floor with him.

Miss her.

He woke up the next morning with a mind numbing headache, he went harder than he had thought. His sheets ruffled, hair untamed, and his aviators missing. How the hell could he lose something so important to his personality, he needed to be more careful on nights out. This was somehow Hangman’s fault, it always was and always will be. Bradley’s eyes widened the second he realized the other side of his bed was unmade, he brought someone home last night? Typically he was the one to dine and dash, not the other way around, he supposed it was his fault for bringing you to his house. 

His phone dinged, lighting up the tiny scrap of paper laid on top of it. It was a text from Mav, informing him of some barbeque he was throwing later. The piece of paper was much more interesting. It was your phone number. He’d managed to score your number and he didn’t even remember it. He moved his thumb. Baby Mitchell. Fuuuuck. He’d scored with Mav’s daughter and he didn’t even know it was you, how could he have been so stupid.

The memories of last night slowly coming back to him as he stared at your phone number. You were the reason he’d lost his aviators, lost them in a bet that you couldn’t score a free drink first. He lost to himself, his bank statements would soon agree, he was the one that bought you the damn drink. You danced the rest of the night in his aviators, parading the free drink in his face. He remembered the taste of the liquor on your tongue, how he’d licked all over it and relished in the taste. He remembered the quiet sounds you thought he didn’t catch when he nipped at your earlobe, walking you out of the club and to his bronco.

Kiss her.

“Good to see you man.” Mav greeted him at the door, soon introducing him to you. The one person he’d spent all day thinking about. His poison. 

“Yeah- good to see you too, Mav.” He stuttered, having a hard time thinking of anything that wasn’t you. You looked more beautiful than you had last night, if that was even fucking possible.

“Hi Bradley.” You spoke softly, sending him a wave before turning on your heel to go find someone else. Your voice was still raspy from last night, he wondered what it sounded like when you weren’t losing your voice. 

He watched you all night, watched you interact with Phoenix and Halo, watched you throw your head back in laughter. He silently watched as the fireworks lit up your face, watched the sparkle in your eye as you watched them. He watched the smile appear when you caught him staring from across the crowd, all he could do was give you one back.

Love her.

[scandinavianfairytale]

Safe with me

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Pilot Reader (no callsigns)

Warnings: Mentions of nightmares, mentions of therapy, referenced trauma (it's not explicit however mind the warnings!), still fluffy 💙

Bradley groaned and grabbed at his alarm clock on his nightstand to check the time.

'3:17'

He wondered who could be at the other end of the door, but he figured something important was going down since they knocked at such hour and didn't stop.

"Good m-" He stopped when he saw you standing in front of his door, clutching a pillow.

"It happened again." You sniffed and walked right into his open arms.

"Come on, let's get you to bed." Bradley ushered you inside and you slowly walked towards his bed. He laid down and you followed, snuggling into him. He covered you both with the blanket and pulled you closer to him.

"You're safe now. I got you." He whispered into your hair.

"Thank you."

"If you will ever want to talk, you know I'm here."

You only nodded. He was the first person that actually made you feel safe. The one who opened his arms and let you cry, without demanding explanations or anything more than you were willing to ask for. This is the reason why you kept running to him. As it turned out, Bradley was the antidote to your nightmares. He kept them at bay.

You still weren't comfortable enough to bare your soul to him. There were parts of you that still made you feel ashamed, the parts that you didn't want to share as they made you unlovable. The assigned therapist has made several attempts to remedy this kind of low self opinion, but it has been an uphill battle, one you found yourself losing more times than winning.

As you laid in his arms, you felt your heartbeat steady and you relaxed in his arms.

"There you go. Good night." Bardley smiled as he felt you sag into the mattress.

"Good night Bradley." You smiled and happily closed tour eyes.

Thank you for reading! 💙😊

The GIF belongs to the amazing creator 🙏🥰

I haven't wrote anything in 2 months 😱 TWO MONTHS I can't wrap my head around this fact, how has it been two months?? 😬

Anyway, I'm feeling all these things and I wish I had a Bradley with me 🥺😭

[annepsilvaauthor]

Fighter Weapons — Chapter 12

Pairing(s): Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x OC (Claire Mitchell) / Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Natasha "Phoenix" Trace

Summary: An untold story. A series that shows what happened during the Top Gun of our beloved pilots of Top Gun: Maverick.

Warnings: Subtle sexual innuendos, brief language, alcohol consumption, angst, smut, fluffy.

Word Count: 5.239

The darlings who don't want to miss any updates ↪️ @missathlete31 @togetherisawonderfulplacetobe @switch3rr @na0my @aprilwithapricots @goldenloverschild @rightwhereiwantyou @jackiequick @oliviah-25 @bellyliveslife @anerdquemoraaolado @callsign-barbell @struggling-with-space

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11

FIGHTERTOWN, USA

Hangman walked through the hangar facilities with his mind swarming with thoughts. He didn't understand how in a single day he could have such upheavals of feelings. He lived those hours like he was on a roller coaster and he hated roller coasters.

He had planned to enjoy a quiet day at the beach. Maybe surf a little, or just hang out with Coyote over a few beers. An ordinary day in the life of a fighter pilot. However, everything started to unravel as soon as he arrived at The Hard Deck. His sister called to once again insist that he attend her parents' event, but he was resolute.

Then it was his own mother's turn to call and he didn't answer. He couldn't. He wouldn't be able to answer. His hurt and disappointment were still too great for that. He wasn't sure if talking to her would end up taking all of his anger out in words or a childish cry. Both options were terrible to happen to him.

Hangman learned to guard his emotions from an early age, as people didn't care about that or what he said. Being ignored his entire life changed him in layers so deep, he couldn't say if he'd ever be able to get through them all. It was much easier to put on a mask and move on, after all, that's the way the world was. No one really cares about anything but themselves, so why should he?

That thought of his clashed with Phoenix's attitudes that day. He knew he could have gone a little overboard with her and Rooster, even Claire and he totally understood the anger towards him. He expected that. What he didn't expect was a succession of affectionate acts coming from someone like Natasha Trace.

Hangman didn't know her for a long time. Not even. But he'd lived with her long enough to understand that Phoenix was a strong, determined woman who took good care of her friends. She had a hard, earnest look. And he was pretty sure she could be vindictive. He expected that from her whenever he teased her and Storm. But not. For some reason, she thought him worthy of being petted, of being soothed.

He didn't understand. He has never seen anything like this. He was her rival, her adversary, at times even her enemy, but she took care of him anyway. With each call from his mother, he felt more awash in hurt. The memories of her words, the laughter, the pain all came back as soon as he saw her face on the screen. And Phoenix noticed. Fuck, she realized. He spent years of his life hiding behind masks, but she came and found him. She saw him. It was irritating and comforting at the same time.

Spending that afternoon with her was the last thing on his plans, but it became the most essential in the face of what he felt about the phone calls. He loved the way she never backed away from a good game and confrontation. Hangman noticed the twinkle in those beautiful black eyes every time the match got tough and he couldn't help but smile in satisfaction. At that point, they were equal. Two crazy people for the adrenaline of a good competition.

As much as he considered himself a hunter by nature, Hangman had never been involved with any professional colleague. He even flirted with a few, but simply because he couldn't help it. He liked to flirt with everyone. But with them Hangman always took a step back. He recognized that they were pilots like him and anyone else. They deserved respect like everyone else. They deserved to be there as much as he did.

However, with Phoenix it was being different. He continued to flirt even after finding out that she was a pilot too just to tease her. But as he watched her fly, received her direct responses and competed with her, Hangman didn't continue for the simple pleasure of seeing her angry, but because he was genuinely attracted to her.

Phoenix was physically different from all of his ex-girlfriends. He could be said to be a fan of short blondes and he didn't remember being attracted to any woman who deviated from that pattern. But she came. Hangman tried to hide it, but it was in vain. He loved her black waves, as well as those bright eyes and small nose. He loved the way she stood up to him. He loved that smile. And after seeing her in a bikini, he loved her curves. Phoenix was a very attractive woman and very interesting too. And he couldn't hold back. He wanted her. A lot.

He had considered stealing a kiss from her since the day he saw her at the bar in Lemoore and it was getting harder and harder to obey his own rule about not getting involved with professional colleagues. He tried very hard, but each time she passed, he couldn't look away. Phoenix, even wearing the standard uniform and with her hair tied back tightly, still attracted a lot of attention. And he wanted the pleasure of sinking his fingers into that soft-looking hair and kissing that feline mouth. He imagined it several times, in several different ways and saw that he might have a chance on the bet they had made. But he lost.

And he lost her again when Rooster took her away. They were having fun together at the bar, they had shared certain opinions and certainties about life and spent the whole day together. It was a day of rest and truce. They were finally getting along. And Rooster showed up to ruin everything. Hangman didn't accept that Rooster was using Phoenix to forget Claire or replace her. Phoenix was more than that, she deserved more. However, whenever he called, she was there with him and left Hangman right away.

It was all very new between them, but Hangman felt a confidence growing there. She was the only one who was seeing him and, after years, he wanted to find someone who understood him without needing words to do so. There was only one thing in life that Hangman wasn't good at: expressing feelings in words. And with Phoenix he didn't have to. She saw him.

He felt betrayed seeing Rooster and Phoenix together at the bar and hurt when she insulted him like that. He was just protecting her from impending drama and she shooed him away. With that, she made him return with the mask and feel terrible all over again.

Hangman arrived at the male dormitory and was surprised when he saw the door of his room open. He approached there observing a backpack on the floor and a man lying on the bed next to his. He wore all black clothes with heavy fabric and boots. His tattooed arms were supporting the back of his head as he looked up at the ceiling with a satisfied smile on his face. A crumpled dog tag was sticking out of his shirt and the man he knew very well looked down at Hangman. He immediately felt an icy chill run through his entire body.

“Well well well.” The pilot said with a sadistic smile. “Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin. What an honor to be among royalty.”

Hangman remained silent for a few seconds that felt like hours. Why was he there? How had he not been expelled from the Navy? Why was he back? How had he managed to get into Top Gun after what he'd done? Questions roamed the mind of an already disturbed Hangman and the man realized it. He had a black, icy gaze that saw the worst in someone. Hangman looked away from his.

“Ethan ‘Cobra’ Allen. Shouldn't you be expelled?” Hangman commented in the same tone as him.

Cobra let out a humorless laugh.

“I see the news has spread.” He looked back at the ceiling. “It's just bureaucracy.”

"Five people are just bureaucracies?"

Cobra turned his gaze to Hangman, this time a deadly one. He let out an icy smile.

"I thought you were a lone wolf. You're letting me down.”

“I act alone. I sacrifice myself for others. I don't kill them…”

Before Hangman could finish his sentence, Cobra got up from the bed and charged towards him as fast as a fighter jet. He stopped very close to his face demonstrating that he was a few centimeters taller. Hangman felt the impact of that approach, but he forced himself to remain still. He didn't want to show that Cobra's mere gaze made him fearful.

“Be very careful when you finish that sentence.” He threatened, still smiling.

“Or what? Are you going to do to me what you did to those pilots?”

“Who knows?”

Hangman swallowed hard.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“Oh. You should be.”

Cobra held a slashing gaze on Hangman who remained motionless in defiance. However, Hangman's desire was not to spend another minute near that pilot. Just looking at him, he felt a dark and malevolent energy. Cobra exuded danger from his pores.

So Hangman didn't ask any more questions, after all he would never get the answers from him. Hangman entered the room and gathered his belongings. He wouldn't stay there while Cobra was there. He couldn't bear to be next to a murderer.

“We have more in common than you know, Seresin.” Cobra commented when he saw him leave the room.

Hangman didn't answer and headed to the break room, where he found them again. That time it was worse. They were in an intimate embrace in total silence in the middle of the night. Hangman felt his blood boil, but decided not to say anything. The situation with Cobra was troubling him enough.

[***]

Everyone gathered again in the hangar for another week in the much feared and desired Top Gun. Phoenix and Storm sat in the front row, with Hangman and Coyote on the opposite side, as usual. Rooster was a row behind Phoenix, alone, as he preferred to be. And everyone noted the presence of another member in the select list of pilots.

Porkus and Fungus were the first to see him walk between the rows, as they sat in the last seats. He walked confidently and calmly, aware that the other pilots were watching him. Sunglasses rested on his face, curved in a victorious but cold smile. He sat in the vacant chair next to Rooster, who frowned. The pilot just nodded.

"Good morning, pilots!"

Blade shouted from a podium in front of the huge American flag displayed in the hangar, drawing the attention of the pilots to him. The chief instructor seemed to be particularly uncomfortable that day, dropping his coolness and professional impartiality for a few seconds. That pilot's arrival might be getting to him too. However, Blade composed himself and concentrated on what he was supposed to do there.

“Today we will begin the second stage of elite training in this unit. In this phase, we will divide you into pairs to compete against each other. We want to take teamwork to the highest level.” Blade paused to look at each of the pilots and continued with a smug smile. “Starting today, the duo that does not score at least once will no longer be entitled to participate in the race for the title of Top TopGun.”

A silence hung for too long between the pilots, something Blade relished. Porkus and Fungus exchanged startled glances, as they were the only ones who hadn't scored yet. Phoenix and Storm shot each other measured looks, understanding the seriousness of this week but not dreading it. Hangman just smiled in enthusiasm at the challenge and Coyote didn't need to look back at his friend to know his reaction.

Rooster shifted in his chair and folded his hands on the table under the weight of that information and watched as his rowmate snorted as he sprawled across the chair, slouching far too relaxed in the seat.

"Did I say a joke, Cobra?" Blade asked professionally.

“No sir. I know you don't make jokes.” He replied in a too intimate tone for just a pilot and his instructor.

Blade looked at him as if he could shoot him right there in the seat and everyone noticed. Their chief instructor was an impenetrable stone, unshaken. At least that's what they thought.

Phoenix decided to turn her face towards him to find out who was the one driving Blade crazy. When contemplating a man with a loose smile behind her, she should feel empathy, since she loved someone who smiled like that. But not. She felt a certain heavy energy.

He lifted his sunglasses and gave her a wink, keeping his smile slack. Phoenix remained with a serious look without giving any reaction to that. She didn't want everyone to think they could do this to her. They didn't have that freedom, and they never would. Maybe, just... her gaze instinctively sought Hangman's.

To her surprise, he was already watching her, giving her an intense look that told her a lot and made her feel warm. Images from the night before raced through her mind and she imagined his was no different. However, the emeralds turned towards the pilot in defiance.

"Ahm..." a voice scratched from the back gaining the pilots' attention. “I think I speak for everyone when I say, who is this guy?”

A buzz spread through the students long enough to annoy the inspector and silence them with a call for silence. Blade sighed at the pilots' surprised expressions in his direction and opened his mouth to explain, but it wasn't necessary.

“Me? Oh.” The new student rose to his feet with satisfaction. “I'm the pilot whose name will be engraved on the wall.”

The reactions were varied. Some chuckled, some snorted, some threw glances as if to say "who does he think he is?", and others just stared at him suspiciously.

“Sit down.” Blade ordered firmly and the pilot considered disobeying, but finally sat down. “Students, this is Lieutenant Ethan Allen. Codename, Cobra. He will be part of Top Gun starting today.”

"But it's not fair!"

"He missed a week!"

“We got here first."

"What's so special about him?"

Comments flew all over the place, making Blade impatient. In the second row, Cobra was amused to see the uproar he caused. Chaos fed him.

“Silence! You're just pilots, you don't get paid to question!” The instructor shouted firmly making everyone shut up. “Lieutenant Allen will be with us until further notice. Now... let's go to the doubles.”

As Blade divided up the pairs on the large whiteboard at the front of the room, the pilots still hadn't given up. In their minds there were questions about that new student and he didn't want to explain anything. Cobra was amused by their confusion. A confused enemy was easier to defeat.

After the pairs were chosen, the pilots left for the flight line with the necessary uniforms and equipment. Rooster was walking along the track when he was overtaken by hurried steps, but the figure soon stopped in front of him. Cobra chewed on a cereal bar for a while until Rooster got tired and spoke impatiently:

“Can I help you?”

“You know, I've heard a lot about you. The great Bradley Bradshaw. The youngest pilot to be chosen for Oceana, the largest naval base in the country.” He chewed some more. “You are a legend.”

"Should I feel bad for not knowing who you are?"

As much as Cobra was praising him, Rooster sensed something else in his tone. It looked like dissimulation and coldness. He usually didn't jump to conclusions about anyone, he preferred to get to know them first. But not in that case. Cobra didn't seem like a nice person.

“Oh, I don't care about that.” He grimaced. “I just want to do my job. I don't need that much recognition.”

“Hmm. That in the hangar was pure humility, wasn't it?” Rooster mocked.

Cobra's smile faded, but he quickly resumed it, chuckling and smacking Rooster on the arm.

"It was just to fend off the stares. Us pilots can be pretty arrogant don't you think?”

“What I think is that we should focus on today's training.”

“Sure, sure. You are the man.” He saluted and handed him the cereal bar.

“No thanks. I'm allergic to peanuts.”

Cobra saw Rooster's impatient look and decided to walk away, but threw him a smile before heading to his fighter.

On the other side of the flight line, Phoenix was fiddling with the gears in her F-18, analyzing whether everything was really ready for a competition. Inside the fighter was Storm, who marked a "check" on the list before takeoff.

“Turbines. Check. Flight equipment. Check. Vomit bag. Check.” She read aloud for Phoenix to hear downstairs. "How are the calipers?"

“Almost there!”

Phoenix kept tinkering with wires and gears, that being the second best thing about being a fighter pilot. She loved getting her hands dirty and fixing her own plane and she used her knowledge beyond the Academy. Phoenix had a degree in Mechanical Engineering and any piece of metal excited her.

She was turning a key when she noticed him beside her, standing like a Greek statue with his hands in the pockets of his flight suit and the tiniest smile on his face. Phoenix watched him sideways, wanting to get rid of the sensations in her body before turning to face him.

“Need help?” he asked in the smug tone wanting to piss her off.

“No. I know what I am doing.” She swallowed what she really wanted to say and went on with her work. He remained there. "Aren't you going to check your fighter?"

"I need to check on something more important."

Phoenix finally turned her face towards him meeting those tender eyes and that annoying smile. He was fully attired, his hair impeccable, showing no sign of the gale it had been hours before. If it weren't for that sparkle in the emeralds, she could tell Hangman was an unshakable man. But he wasn't. At least, not with her. Phoenix smiled inwardly.

"You don't look too bad for someone who slept on the couch."

"Was that a compliment?" he asked with a raised eyebrow and that smug smile.

“Think what you like.” She disdained.

“You know very well that it was not the sofa that stirred my sleep." he teased with a smirk.

“Oh, sure. Could have been the flight line lights.” she dissembled with a mocking expression.

“Of course, a light black haired one."

Hangman approached with his eyes steady on hers, unable to look away. Those emeralds looked beautiful in the sunlight. He stopped inches from her body and, again, she would pull away, ignore it, as she would anyone else. But she didn't. Damn it! Why did his presence affect her so much? No. She needed to put a stop to this.

"If you've come to talk about yesterday…" She started, preparing to push him away again, but he cut her off.

“Not now, my angel.” He gave her a long look as if he wanted to memorize every detail of her face and held out a hand to the fighter, supporting it on the bodywork. His expression changed to seriousness. “I need you not to do anything risky up there today.”

“What? Did I hear right? You're asking someone to be predictable...are you?” She let out a humorless laugh. "You know we're a team, right?"

“Yes I know. Do you know who we're training against?”

“Rooster and that cocky pilot.” She threw a 'you think I'm stupid?' look. "Do you want to lose, by any chance?"

He made a face.

“Me either.” she continued. “Then don't ask me to.”

“If you don't want to do what I say, then do it for Storm.”

Phoenix pulled away from the fighter and stared at him deeply with her arms crossed. Hangman expressed calm and cleverness in his arguments and tone of voice, but those eyes couldn't lie. Not for her. That mountain of muscle and ego wasn't right.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on or am I going to figure it out myself?"

“Is nothing. It's just strategy.” He looked away from her.

“No, we both know Rooster plays in the realm of the obvious. If we go to this game, we will be defeated.”

“Rooster is not the problem.”

“Oh. So it's Cobra that the big Hangman is afraid of?”

“I told you before that I'm not afraid of anything or anyone." he reminded firmly.

“It's not what it looks like. Have you ever seen him fly?”

“Yes, unfortunately.” He sighed, leaning against the stairs that gave access to the fighter.

“And...?”

“Just do what I asked, Phoenix.”

"Of course, and leave all the honors of victory to you, eh? Forget it, Bagman.” She raised her voice a little. “I didn't get this far because I fought the obvious. That's not me. And today isn't going to be any different just because you're scared of a smug guy!”

“Okay, that's right. Do not do. Be the daring and unpredictable Phoenix against a pilot with no love for the lives of others. Just don't say I didn't warn you!”

“Message given.” She looked at him defiantly and he handed it back. How easy the transition between malice and hatred was with them!

“See you in the sky.”

Phoenix watched him walk away and when she didn't see him anymore she finally got her breathing right again. What was his problem anyway? Since he had arrived he defended boldness and belittled the obvious with nails and teeth and suddenly changed his speech. What was so special about that rookie that made Hangman fear?

“What did he want?” Storm asked when Phoenix sat in the booth across from her.

"Annoy me, as usual."

“Moment with Bagman. Check.”

"Did you really put this on the list?" she asked turning her face towards her friend.

“I put everything that happens regularly. And... when he comes you get angry and with anger you drive even better.”

“So you think I always need to have a moment with him before I fly.”

Storm smirked and winked. Phoenix didn't need more words to know her answer. She looked back forward and smiled. She actually drove better when angry. And that day, he had once again managed to piss her off.

"We're gonna beat this shit."

“That's it Girl!” Storm cheered as she put on her helmet.

[***]

The sun lit up the blue, cloudless San Diego sky, giving the competitors plenty of space and excitement. Rooster led the pair, while Cobra was his wingman. They pointed the jets' noses down in a dive, flying side by side at five thousand feet outlined against the blue Pacific.

From a distance, two more fighters watched them. They looked helpless. They had already been flying over for twenty minutes without finding them or, at least, without trying, since Hangman did not guide his ward to strategic places. He looked like he wanted to hide.

Phoenix was finding her rival—now leader—too quiet. Not that she preferred all that ego in the form of words or having him explain the plan, because she knew he wouldn't. But...he looked very serious and tense. She could hear his heavy breathing through the communicator and there was no sign of any offhand comments. He wasn't being Hangman.

“Two to seven o'clock, Phoenix. Floating.” Hangman warned through the communicator.

"Understood. Taking the left.”

Rooster and Cobra noticed the presence of fighters on the opposite side.

“Holy shit, there they are. Hangman is here.” Rooster informed preparing a maneuver.

“Great! He's probably saying, ‘Holy shit, it's Rooster and Cobra!’

“Of course it is.” He mocked.

The planes split. Rooster charged to the left, chasing Phoenix, and Cobra to the right, covering him. Phoenix made a strong vertical move, but Rooster stayed on her heels.

"Focus on her! Sign the maneuvers!” Cobra ordered.

“Hey! Hangman at three o'clock!” Rooster watched on his radar. "Coming too fast!"

Cobra glanced quickly at the three o'clock and saw Hangman's F-18 returning to the fight. He pushed the stick to the right, and the two planes made a quick pass.

"I lost him!" Hangman reported to Phoenix.

“I'm a little busy right now.” She warned giving curves and more curves in the sky. "Need cover?"

“No. Take down Rooster...I'll take care of Cobra.”

“I can hear you, you know?” Rooster called on the shared communicator.

Phoenix managed to reverse the zigzag by getting behind Rooster, after a moment of his lack of concentration. He was now hotly pursued by Phoenix.

"I'll focus on the pilot! Rooster, you're on your own now.” Cobra informed.

“I need cover, Cobra. Mutual support, man!”

“I'll get him, man.” He was smiling under his mask, vibrating with the adrenaline of being able to fly again.

“Do not be greedy. Back me up!”

"I want Hangman!"

Cobra lunged vertically, taking the plane straight overhead. He looped the F-18 down to get a clear angle on the opponent. Hangman took off, running away from the fight again. Cobra looked over his shoulder and saw that Rooster still hadn't been hit. Then, he lunged hard to the right and flew towards Hangman.

Hangman dashed through the sky with Cobra close behind. He pushed the throttle forward, activating the afterburner fully. He showed many of his tricks... left, right, rolling vertically, launching into a dive. And Cobra was still on his trail.

Cobra turned to put Hangman in the crosshairs. He heard an alarm on his radar and communicator but ignored it. Phoenix was busy with Rooster far away. Cobra managed to put him in the box, just aim...

“Careful! At three o'clock! Nine o'clock! Get away!” Rooster was screaming into his communicator as he was brushed aside by Phoenix, who charged towards Cobra.

Hangman managed to get rid of his aim and reversed positions, leaving Cobra in the middle of the crossfire.

"Last words, Cobra!" Storm teased.

Cobra widened his eyes, stunned by the shared maneuver. If he stayed there he was going to get hit. Leaving wasn't an option either, as he would still be within their crosshairs. There was only one option left.

Cobra dove towards the sea and aimed his weapon upwards. A real weapon. Bait and bombs left the plane's compartments in search of Phoenix.

"Fuck that...!" she cursed in surprise.

“Phoenix!” Hangman roared into the communicator.

Phoenix lunged heavily to the left, but that wasn't fast enough. The baits blinded her and the bombs hit one of the turbines. She tried to revive the fighter activating some controls in the cabin, but it was not enough.

“What the hell is that?!” Rooster asked dazedly into the sky as he approached them. “Phoenix!

"We need to eject." Storm warned calmly, as she didn't intend to pass out in despair.

“I still can…” Phoenix was pressing buttons and controls all over the place trying to save the plane.

Alarms beeped in the cockpit on all screens and red lights flashed. Their hearts raced as well as the alerts, their breathing failed, their chests desperate. The turbines completely failed and they began to lose altitude. Phoenix clamped her lips together in tension, still hopeful of resolving the situation.

"Phoenix, eject!" Rooster said into the communicator, his voice muffled by his sneering ears.

“Don't play heroine now, please.” Hangman's voice came out in pleading, as if it were just a thought aloud.

They lost more and more altitude and Phoenix understood that she had lost. She had no choice. She gave Storm a signal and the two ejected from the plane in moments before it exploded into the air.

Pieces of the F-18 were thrown in all directions and a strong hot light hit the pilots still flying over the sea. They watched as the two seats deployed their parachutes, and soon the two pilots were flying through the smoke-clouded sky.

[***]

"What the fuck was that?!” Rooster shouted to Cobra as he got out of the F-18.

“What?” He replied walking with a peaceful smile.

"Still asking what?" Rooster lunged at him and stopped him with a hand on his elbow, which Cobra quickly disengaged.

“Do not touch me!” he glared at him with dark eyes.

“Weapons are prohibited in training.”

“Oh, are they? I did not know that. A week late, sorry.”

"Don't come with that, dammit!" Rooster huffed in the middle of the flight line. “I know you're not that stupid. No weapons were ever allowed in training, neither at the Academy nor at Top Gun.”

"Fucking rule! What do they train us for then?” He opened his arms in a sweeping gesture. “On the battlefield real weapons are used.”

"You had no right! It was just training!” Rooster continued ignoring his arguments.

“I just defended myself.”

“You could be expelled for that.”

Cobra let out a slurred laugh and Rooster got even more enraged.

"Wait for it." Cobra patted the pilot twice on the shoulder and started walking again.

Rooster hadn't given up on that interrogation, but before he continued, a figure intrigued him. Hangman had landed his fighter a few minutes after them and was now walking down the flight line without his helmet on, his gaze fixed on the ground, sweat dripping from his nose and his hair in disarray, which he didn't care to fix.

Hangman walked past Rooster without saying a word or flashing that smug smile or cracking a joke. The pilot seemed immersed in agonizing thoughts, evidenced by the pain in his expression. Rooster recalled his actions in heaven. He didn't do any risky maneuvers or show off, he just tried to keep the fight as calm as possible, as if he feared something. That wasn't Hangman. Not by far. What was happening?

Rooster decided to leave that for later and invested in the direction of Cobra, who had already entered the hangar facilities. As he walked through the halls towards the locker rooms, Rooster saw her. For the first time since the elevator incident, he found her. And fuck. She was beautiful.

Claire walked elegantly through the halls wearing a white midi-length dress and a black leather jacket covering her thin arms, which carried some handouts. Her blond hair was slightly curled at the ends, touching her small ears. Her face curved into a tender, tiny smile. Enchanting. And she saw him.

Claire stopped her movement abruptly, her eyes widening a little at the sight of him. Rooster swallowed, feeling his heart race and forgot how to breathe. Her eyes were so intense, emotional. The world seemed to have stopped just to contemplate that meeting. He wanted to talk to her, wanted to explain everything, tell her everything, even though he didn't exactly know. He wanted to take her in his arms, wanted to kiss her until his lips ached. Rooster wanted her so badly.

However, the world not only started to spin again, it was falling apart. Rooster watched Cobra approach Claire and envelop her in a tight hug with silly hands on her bottom. And he kissed her hard.

Rooster's heart was ripped out of his chest.

[emofairyprincessofarkansas]

“Shut Up and Dance”

[garbinge]

Secret's Safe

Jax Teller x Ortiz!F!Reader Juice & Sister!Reader 30 Day Fic Challenge

Word Count: 3k A/N: I had more thoughts to make this more of a Juice fic but then.... Jax LOL.

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Mentions of blood, murder, death, assault, secrets, lying, trauma, abuse.

Word Count: 3k SOA Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics

As you opened your eyes, they squinted quickly as the bright sun hit them immediately.  After blinking a few times, they tried to take in your surroundings. You were in the passenger seat of your car, the green signs on the highway were moving extremely quickly past you. It took you a minute to focus to see what was on the signs but soon enough you caught one that said Stockton 75 miles. That meant you weren’t too far off from where you were headed before you ran into the person at the wheel of your truck currently. That thought made you immediately snap your head over to see the blond haired man, hand on the steering wheel, white knuckled, his reaper hat holding back the oiled hair from the sleepless night prior. 

“You look like shit.” You spoke up, clearing your throat as you did, placing his jacket that he had draped over you on his backpack. 

It was the statement he had said to you when you ran into him at the truck stop last night. It was meant to be humorous but once he got a good look at you, he realized it held way more truth than he expected. The genuine concern is what brought him to load his Harley in the bed of your truck, and continue your drive out to Charming for you. 

Staring at the smile growing on his face sent you back to the days you were falling in love with Jax Teller. Back when he had the kutte without the weight of the office patches. 

“Didn’t want you to feel left out.” His voice sent a shiver through your body. It had been half a decade since you last saw him. It made you look him over more closely. His hair was longer, Jax always sported the long blonde look but this was a lot more lengthy than before, like something had happened that led him to forget to get it cut. As you looked at his beard, you thought maybe that was more the sign that things hadn’t exactly been smooth sailing for him. Your eyes moved down to his kutte, despite being new to you, the vice president patch on his right was dirty and worn. 

“You think we could stop somewhere for me to freshen up, I don’t really want to jump scare my brother.” You started to look through your backpack for your toiletries as you spoke. 

“Was planning to go to my place first, I know how you are with him.” His knuckles tightened on the wheel as the sentence left his mouth.  

You weren’t sure whether you were annoyed or comforted by his statement. You knew exactly what he meant, and it was unreal to you that despite the insanity of this situation, you could still fight about the same things you fought about then. 

“And how am I with him?” It was said in a way that you both knew the answer, but you wanted Jax to humor you, or maybe you just wanted to finally win this fight. You stopped your search for whatever in your bag and looked at him, eyebrows raised waiting for an answer. 

“Cautious.” He spoke the word immediately and you felt the argument practically line up in your voice like it was muscle memory. 

Keeping your relationship a secret was ultimately what broke you both up. And that’s what made you move back to the east coast where you and your brother grew up. 

Jax followed up his statement quickly before you could let out a syllable of your argument. “For the record, I get it now. I think I was still a stupid young kid wanting to flaunt my girlfriend around.” 

This was completely new to you. 

You looked him over again and despite the distressed look to it, you caught the fresh stitching. The patch was not only new to you but new to him as well. 

“I guess being the second in command makes you mature.” 

“Makes you see what people can handle, too.” His voice was firm as he spoke, eyes still on the road. 

“He wouldn’t have been able to handle it.” You agreed knowing your brother well. He was fun-loving, caring, hilarious, but he had demons. And if anyone else’s found their way to him, you knew it’d break him because he’d try so hard to take them on his own. Not saying Jax and your relationship was bad, it was surprisingly one of the better ones you’d been in, but you knew by having that, you’d be taking away the one thing that kept your brother stable. 

“He gonna be able to handle what brought you out here?” 

That snapped you out of your thoughts. Your eyes said it all but he didn’t even need to be looking at them to feel your shock and need for explanation. 

“I saw the blood in the bed of your truck when I was loading my bike. Thought I’d taught you better than to leave behind evidence.” 

“That’s mine.” It was so pointed how you said it. 

That made Jax’s brow arch in curiosity. As fucked up as it sounded, it was relieving to you to be talking to someone who wasn’t shocked by the possibility of mysterious blood or being on the lam from a crime. To be talking to someone who almost found curiosity in the thought of the situation. 

“I got mixed up with this group of friends out east.” He didn’t need to pry the information out of you, this was never an issue between you, sharing your thoughts with each other, talking through everything, was never the problem. Telling other people was. “Real party kids, you know, we were drinking, doing drugs, having a good time, until we weren’t.” You took a deep breath before getting into the depths of the story. 

“We were hanging out on the front porch of someone’s house, it was late, or early, however you wanna describe it, and someone rolled up, I guess someone brought a friend who knew some not so great people.” 

Jax had a feeling he knew where the story was going but he wanted to hear it from your account.

“I got stabbed.” This part of the story was so straight to the point compared to the rest. The context here didn’t matter much compared to the lead up. 

“Still missing the part where you got blood in your truck.” Jax was only saying this because you stopped talking and he knew there were pieces of the story missing. 

This was where it was hard to say what happened, partially because you couldn’t believe how stupid you were to let this happen to begin with, but also since it was traumatic. 

“They tossed me in the bed of the truck and left me there to die.” 

Jax’s grip got tighter against the wheel and he sucked his lips into his teeth, the anger rising as he thought about it. 

“Obviously I didn’t.” You tried to lighten the mood. 

“And you decided to come back here.” Jax nodded, fully understanding the story. 

“After I killed the person who left me to die. Who just happened to be the one who stabbed me.” Again, the words came out with no lead up, just the point. 

Jax’s eyes darted to you when you said it. Funny enough, it was what he expected the situation to be. An ex got abusive, it ended badly, or maybe an accident when you were drunk, but the thought went out once you ended your story. 

“Did–” He was beginning to ask how you handled it, you knew that was what he was wondering. 

“I handled it. No trace. I was coming back here just because I needed my family, needed a familiar face.” 

“Sorry this familiar one looks like shit.” Jax was now trying to lighten the mood. 

“It was an unexpected one too. I wasn’t even going to come to the clubhouse, was going to go straight to a motel and then right to Juice’s.” 

“No love lost, I see.” He let out a laugh. 

“More like too much love lost.” You leaned back in the seat and placed your feet up on the dash. 

__________

You pulled back the shower curtain and wrapped the towel around your body, turning to wipe the fog off the mirror and stare at yourself. The shower brought some life back to your face, but the only thing that was going to make you look well rested was rest. 

As you opened the bathroom door, you started to talk loud, calling out and asking if you could take a nap but your words got cut off as you slammed right into Jax whose hand was raised to knock on the bathroom door. 

“Sorry.” He chuckled and stabilized you by wrapping his hands on your bare arms. 

It was at that moment that the both of you realized this was the closest you’ve been in years. You felt Jax’s breath on your face, it smelt like coffee which made you smile inside. Something about the domesticity of him in his home drinking his morning cup of coffee. 

“I was coming to see if you wanted french toast or waffles.” There was that domesticity again. 

“Jax Teller, who used to burn eggs, is offering me french toast or waffles?” The water was still dripping down your skin as you spoke. 

“Alright.”  his head twisted to the side as he laughed and then looked back at you, his finger now on your shoulder catching one of the stray drops before retracting his hand and looking back at your eyes. “They’re pre-made in a package from the freezer, was just gonna toast ‘em, not get all fancy.” 

“I’ll take both.” 

“Both it is.” He was turning around to go back into the kitchen and you felt your breath exhale the moment he turned. 

You both never got a chance to eat together, he came back to ask you about coffee or orange juice and ended up in his bed. Breakfastless and clothesless. 

As much as it broke you to sneak out, you did it. Sneaking out like this reminded you of what you were trying to leave behind, but now, you had to remind yourself of how safe you felt being here. With Jax. You stepped into the kitchen and saw the toaster housing the burnt french toast accompanied by the burnt waffle in the slot next to it. You laughed and grabbed both, they’d still be better than the junk you were eating on the road. Grabbing a pen you left a note on the table for him. 

Thanks for everything. Taking your burnt breakfast and heading to my brother’s. See you around. xx

With that, you were leaving. It was late afternoon now, meal times didn’t really have a time clock when you were traveling with no sense of time. Driving to your brother’s at this point was like muscle memory, you didn’t have to give it any thought and before you knew it you were there. 

One thing about Juice was that he’d always welcome you with open arms and no questions. Okay some questions, but none that ever felt forced or pointed. 

“Hey! What are you doing here?” He was so chipper and genuinely excited to see you as he opened the door. 

“Refugee looking for shelter.” You smiled back and brought him in for a hug. 

“Come in.” Juice pushed the door open completely and with his free hands moved to grab your bag out of your hand. 

Immediately you felt like a piece of scum in his pristine apartment and you hadn’t even had the grime of the ride on you anymore. “You live here or just showcasing the place?” You teased him. 

He sucked his tongue to the roof of his mouth and made a clicking noise. “I like to keep things neat.” 

“I know we lived in the same house together for years.” You looked at the art on the walls, the only sign that someone made a home of this place. There were pictures of you both, pictures of Juice with your childhood dog, pictures of the club, SOA flags and Harley memorabilia. 

“Hey I have this in my bag.” You smirked and moved to grab your backpack from his hands, he still hadn’t dropped it anywhere likely because he wasn’t sure where it’s place was in his sterile home. 

You pulled the photo out from the side pocket, it was wrinkled and folded, the complete opposite of his. 

“It’s before I started sponsoring, when I just worked at the shop.” He smiled, grabbing the photo from your hands. “You brought me and the guys homemade turkey sandwiches.” 

“You always left your lunch at home.” You shook your head at the memory, “I hated coming by with just food for you.” It was true, you’d make a sandwich for the 4-5 guys that were working that day. It became a sort of bit, the guys were crossing their fingers that whenever Juice was working with them, he’d forgotten his lunch. It helped that you came with a bag of chips and a 6 pack along with the sandwiches. That’s what the picture was. You, Juice, Jax, and Lowell eating turkey sandwiches and washing it down with a beer. 

“Everything okay?” Juice’s voice got solemn as he spoke, still looking down at the photo. 

“It is now.” You nodded with a smile. 

“You need my help with anything?” This time his voice raised an octave, in a more happy way. 

“Just a place to crash.” 

“Second room’s all yours.” He waved his arms in the direction of the room because he knew you were well aware of where it was. 

“I’ll be sure to disinfect my bag before putting it down.” You teased him with a slight push and made your way to the room that used to be yours years ago. 

By the time the two of you caught up, you leaving out the big details that you easily shared with Jax, it was nighttime. He brought you to the clubhouse, excited to share your arrival with the guys, and just happy to have his sister back in town. 

You were plopped on one of the picnic tables as some of the club sat around you, laughing about some joke Tig just said, most of you laughing at him more than with him. Your beer was nestled in your hand as you sipped slow on it, not really feeling like getting drunk much these days. 

“You’re nursing that beer.” Happy’s gruff voice alerted you. It was soft enough that only you heard him. 

“Long drive cross country, it’s making me more tired than anything.” You explained, it was partially true. 

But Happy saw through it. 

“You killed someone.” 

If you had been drinking the beer you would have spit it out by the abruptness of his comment. 

“Excuse me?” You frowned and looked at him, you probably met this member a handful of times but you didn’t know him like you knew some of the other crew. 

“I can tell, you got that vibe.” He nodded his head, his voice extremely raspy. 

“That vibe?” You raised your brows. 

“Yea, that life ain’t hold the same innocence vibe.” He answered you quickly. 

“How would you know what that vibe is?” You were playfully asking now, knowing that it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if anyone here knew what you did, but it wasn’t something you were just blurting out. 

He laughed at that and didn’t answer the question. “Don’t worry your secret’s safe with me.”

“You freakin’ out our guest, Happy?” Bobby was walking out from the clubhouse, followed by Juice with a new beer for you despite you still not having this one nearly finished. 

“Happy?” You frowned and looked at Juice as you grabbed the beer. 

Happy grinned and lifted his shirt up to show his abdomen littered with smiley face tattoos and suddenly with no explanation at all, every question you just asked in the last 5 minutes was answered. 

“Oh.” You grabbed your nursed beer and finished it off quickly before moving to the new and cold one. 

Before the conversation could continue, the sound of two motorcycles cut the sound of voices out completely. Your eyes moved to see who it was, even though based on who was here now, the options were limited. You caught a glimpse of his long locks when he took the helmet off. Instinctually your eyes jumped to the movement of the person who came in behind him, tall and burly, and despite him still being far back in the shadows, you knew it had to be Jax’s friend Opie. With ease, your eyes moved back to Jax as he brought his hand through his hair. It was oily again, or still, which had you starting to wonder what his day looked like after you left. 

“Jax!” Juice called out from behind you and it brought you back to the current moment as Jax approached, taking off his riding gloves with a big smile on his face. “Look who's back on the west coast.” Juice was beyond excited to tell Jax, the thought of bringing back the days when the group of you would hang out clearly driving his enthusiasm. 

“Yea, I–” Jax was about to say how he ran into you the night before, you knew it, but your eyes went wide and your head shook just ever so slightly as a hint to let him know you didn’t want Juice to know. Luckily you were behind Juice on the picnic table so he wasn’t able to see it but Jax did clearly. 

What wasn’t clear was how he was taking your action. He seemed a little upset, but also he had a slight smirk on his face. 

“Yea, I see that. It’s good to see you.” He changed his sentence, his eyes staring at you. 

Behind him was Opie who clearly was aware of what happened between the two of you and was trying to hide his smirk from the awkwardness between you and Jax that only you three hopefully could feel. 

Jax took a step forward and you moved off the picnic table to stand. His arm raised to bring you in for a hug. 

“Thank you.” You whispered and squeezed him a little extra. 

“No worries, as always, secret’s safe.” 

[darklydeliciousdesires]

I’m new to your stuff, pretty good so far. I’ve never asked for a request story from someone, congrats on being the first. #20 with Jax Teller; I can’t stop but think this could b pretty funny.B a one pt or however long u want to go, your choice being the actual writer an all 😊

Hey, and thanks :) Can do! As it's for a drabble, the length will be short, 100 words or less.

Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

He's heavy within you, thrusting keenly, fingers clenched tight on your butt, your thighs rested over his forearms as he rails into you hard. Your kisses are all smoky honey, tongues twirling, breath hitching, spread wide at the mercy of each urgent shunt of his body into yours.

"Yeah. look at you take that big cock, darlin'," he pants, mouth moving to your neck, teeth nipping, tongue swiping, your hands gripping his thick shoulders. "Fuck, you feel good."

The heat scorches through you, right to your very marrow, fire chasing frost over your nerve endings, biting your lip as you moan softly, a little smirk of amusement tilting your mouth. “Please, remind me again why we’re having sex against a tree?”

He rumbles a chuckle, turning his head to look you square in the eye. "You know why, babe. You don't get to sit behind me for five miles talking dirty without me pulling over to show you just what that shit does to me."

Yes. You thought that might have had something to do with it.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Could u do a head shot for everytime rooster and reader found out they were pregnant?

Aww this is such a cute ask, thank you, anon! Hope you like it :D

The Making of Rooster's Brood

Summary: Rooster and his wife are having all the babies.

CW: So many pregnancies and children, foster care and adoption, swearing, possibly an illegal amount of fluff

A/N: Just a quick warm-up drabble, nothing special! But now I need to go write some angst because I might be in danger of melting entirely after this piece.

Rooster's Brood Pt1 | Rooster's Brood Pt2 | Masterlist

The first time is planned. You follow every recommendation to a tee. You and Rooster can't wait to be parents so, the moment the two of you have your own place, you start trying.

You buy a pregnancy test the day after. You know it's way too early but you can't wait. Of course, it's negative, which bums you out. Rooster sits with you on the couch, consoling you and reminding you that nothing will show up on a home pregnancy test for weeks, even if you are, in fact, pregnant.

Nonetheless, you purchase another test the next day. You wait to take it until a week has passed - an excruciatingly long week. The test is negative again, and you are so discouraged that Rooster decides to take you to the movies to get your mind off things.

The two of you continue to try for another week and, meanwhile, you pay attention to every weird thing your body is doing. First, it's a stuffed nose. A cold, perhaps. Then, the frequent peeing - three times in one night? Finally, when your lower back starts hurting, you ask Rooster to go out and get you a test. It's ten o'clock in the evening and you half-expect him to say no, but Rooster is out the door before you could finish your sentence.

You take the test and step out of the bathroom after setting your timer. Rooster is holding his arms out to give you a hug. You stay in his embrace for the entire three minutes and, when the timer goes off, the two of you enter the bathroom anxiously. Rooster doesn't notice at first, but you see the faint pink of the second line right away and scream.

When Rooster catches on, he grabs you and pulls you into his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around your body. “Is it true? Are you sure?” He asks.

After you nod and he kisses your head several times, he lets go and goes over to the counter to inspect the test.

…

The second time is definitely an accident. You find out several days after your baby turns one and you start to freak out. How in the world are you going to keep two babies alive? You barely have enough energy to get out of bed in the morning - your first baby is a terrible sleeper.

Rooster assures you that it’ll all be alright. He cuddles you in bed while you try to determine whether you are filled with more terror or excitement at the prospect of a second child. Rooster chuckles when you voice your thoughts aloud and says, “I’m so fucking happy right now. Does that ease your mind at all?”

It does.

…

“Maybe we should try for a girl,” Rooster says one day as your little family of four finds a spot to have a picnic by the water.

You give him a pointed look. You’re not thrilled at the idea of raising an entire litter of Rooster babies while he’s on deployment four months out of the year.

“Always wanted a girl,” Rooster says musingly and the sheepish grin on his face as he pulls you in for a hug nearly convinces you.

A few minutes later, when you hear your kids’ jubilant screams as Rooster plays with them in the water, you look up with a resigned sigh. You smile because you’re extremely proud that your husband is such a wonderful father. And, of course, by the time you’ve set out the crackers and cheese, you’ve decided that having another baby might not be so bad.

…

The fourth time is a surprise once again. Only, this time, you’re not as upset about it. With three kids, you’ve already gotten into the swing of things as parents. Your kids play together, which means you don’t have to constantly entertain them (just break up their fights once in a while). You and Rooster are really hoping the fourth one will be a girl but, when you find out that it will be twins, Rooster is so excited that he starts whooping right in the doctor’s office.

…

After Rooster returns from deployment, the two of you decide that you make the most amazing kids and it would be a disservice to the world if you didn’t go ahead and make another one. You don’t even take a pregnancy test this time because you know the signs like the back of your hand.

Rooster does an amazing job of taking care of the kids and you while you’re pregnant because, this time, you’re nauseated for the entire nine months! He cooks, he cleans, he does bath time and reads the bedtime stories. He gets all the night calls and gets up at the crack of dawn every morning. “I’m a rooster, after all,” he says.

…

You decide, after your latest pregnancy, that it’ll be your last one. Being sick for nine months is absolutely no fun.

But, when Rooster brings home a foster child for temporary placement, you tell him right away that the two of you are adopting him without question. He tells you that he was hoping you’d say that.

…

Fast forward another year and you and Rooster are sitting on the couch, watching your children play. Rooster has his arm around you and you’re snuggled into his side while he strokes your shoulder gently.

“Look at this amazing family you made,” he says quietly.

“We made,” you respond.

Rooster chuckles. “My part was so easy.”

You laugh. “You’ve pulled your weight since.”

“Ever think about having another one?”

You look up at him sharply and he gives you a mischievous grin. “You’re joking,” you say.

He purses his lips to contain his widening smile and glances at the room full of children. “Historically speaking, chances are that I’m not joking.”

“You still want a girl,” you say.

He looks back at you. “Well, I already have a queen,” he says, kissing you tenderly on the forehead. “Wouldn’t mind a princess though. To keep these hooligans in check,” he nods at the boys roughhousing in the living room.

You consider his statement as he pecks your cheek. The softer his kisses become, the more sway he seems to have over your rational mind. You’ve already got seven kids, what’s one more?

Rooster nuzzles his head against yours. “Forget I said anything, baby,” he whispers. “You have given me everything I've ever wanted and more. I can’t believe how lucky I am.”

"What if it'll be another boy?" you say quietly.

You feel Rooster's body stiffen. He lowers his head to catch your gaze. "Could be a dinosaur for all I care," he replies. You laugh but he sits up straighter and gives you a serious look. "Baby," he says, running a hand down the side of your face. "Girl, boy, a bit of both or maybe neither, it makes no difference to me. You know that, right? I was only kidding."

You nod. "I know."

"I am so happy we have seven boys, baby," he continues. "They're the most amazing humans on the planet. Because they're ours. Mine and yours."

You smile at him, overwhelmed by all the little things that make up the Rooster you love: the earnestness in his eyes, the sweet rasp of his voice, his arms when they're wrapped around you, keeping you warm and safe, and his enormous heart. You think back to how adorable he looks while rocking your newborn babies to sleep, insisting that you need your rest.

"Look how tiny he is," he would say, admiring the small bundle in his giant arms. "I could hold him forever."

You love watching Rooster raise your children. You love seeing him change diapers and pack lunches and do a head count at the park. You love him. And you love all of the amazing humans the two of you are rearing. You sigh, thinking that you might, as it turns out, want another one just because it means it would be with Rooster. "Maybe one more," you say tentatively.

Rooster blinks at you with a hint of a smile. "Are you serious?"

You glance around the room, watching your children line up to take turns jumping off the couch. "Historically speaking, chances are I'm serious."

He laughs then cranes his neck to check the clock in the kitchen. "Is it bedtime yet?"

Rooster Tag List:

Please feel free to let me know if you no longer wish to be tagged in my Rooster fics

@simp-for-fictional-people

@ollyoxenfrees

@iamabeautifulperson18

@living-in-my-imagination88

@wintercap89

@mavrellover91

@gingerbreadandpaper

@lonelywitchv2

@cashwheelersgirl89

@callsign-jupiter

@kindablackenedsuperhero

@everything-i-love-in-life

@malindacath

@rosiahills22

@wandering-wah

@olliepig

@m1llydins

@emilyniamh3679-blog

@footwatter

@books-for-summer

@harper1666

@coffeeaddictedmay

@diabeticgoth

@katiebby04

@problematic-420

@wishfulhope

@elizabitchsshit

@inarabee

@boringusername3

@zombiedixon89

@izz-ayes-world

@ratedtvpg

@mak-32

@sunnysofia

@a-nostalgic-disaster

@aaliyahjovel

@anyonehaveanyorangeslices

@bcon24

@lovemesomevesey

@daydreamingalways

@gerudolivinliv

@emilybradshaw

@olivethenerd16

@kaitlynw011

@l-rexter45

@xoxo-lyss

@beebslebobs

@dracosluvbot

@peoniarose

@annedub

[bradshawsbaby]

This is kinda a two-fer (if that’s how it’s spelled) but I feel like they belong together.

“"thank you for picking me up-i know it's late."

— "don't worry, i'll always come get you."

And for Bradley and his Mrs?

I think this one works best for the earlier days of their relationship, when they first started dating.

The last thing you needed after the world’s longest week was a flat tire on your way home. Especially when the only mechanic who was still open was miles away, and charged an arm and a leg for a tow. To make matters worse, your car wouldn’t even be ready until the next morning.

As exhausted as you felt, and as far away from home as you now were, you were just planning to call an Uber to come pick you up when Bradley called. Your stomach fluttered to see his name appear across your screen. The two of you had only been officially dating for a couple weeks, but he had already managed to flip your world upside down.

“Hi, baby,” he greeted you as soon as you picked up the phone. “I know it’s late, but I just wanted to make sure you got home from work alright.”

“Well…”

“What happened?” Bradley asked, his voice immediately colored with concern.

When you finished explaining the situation to him, you added, “But I’m fine. I’m just going to call an Uber.”

“Like hell you are. I’m coming to get you. Send me the address. I’m walking to my car right now,” he told you. You could hear his keys jingling over the phone.

“Bradley, you really don’t have—”

“I want to,” he cut you off. “I’ll be there soon. Just send me the location.”

In what felt like no time at all, the Bronco was pulling up out front and your shoulders sagged in relief. You raced to jump into Bradley’s arms, which he held open wide for you as soon as he got out of his car.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you murmured, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his smiling mouth.

“You’re alright? Everything good?” he asked, glancing over your shoulder as if to make sure there weren’t any dangerous characters around.

“Everything’s good. My car should be ready tomorrow. This was the only guy I could find who was open,” you told him, lacing your fingers through his as he turned to lead you to the car.

“I’ll drive you to come get it,” Bradley replied, helping you up into the passenger seat and carefully shutting the door for you.

Once he was back behind the wheel and pulling away from the curb, you turned to look at him, smiling with gratitude and affection. “Thank you for picking me up—I know it’s late,” you sighed, knowing how early he had to get up for work.

Bradley just smiled in return, reaching over to take your hand in his and squeeze it gently. “Don’t worry, I’ll always come get you. You’re my girl,” he winked.

Your whole body warmed from head to toe. You hoped you got to be his girl forever.

late night prompts

[rebelwrites]

For your 3 word drabbles can I please have Jax Teller with Sexy, Ride and Bottle. Thankyou😍🥰

Enjoy 😘

“You aren’t going to bottle it are you?” Jax hummed, brushing his fingers down your forearm. “Urm,” you breathed, trying to slow your heart rate down. “I’m slightly scared.”

This was the first time you would ride a bike let alone Jax’s bike. Your mind was spinning at a million miles an hour, so much could go wrong and you knew how much Jax loved this bike.

“You are going to be okay, Darlin’” he whispered, pressing a kiss against your lips. “You are going to be a natural and look sexy doing it.”

[waklman]

List five things that make you happy, then put this in the ask box of the last ten people who reblogged something from you. Spread the positivity!🍄🌵

the bald bus driver who lets me on for free often?? (maybe bc i look like a nervous wreck on my way home from class)

the random guy in my three hour lecture that looks like miles teller (it makes it much more bearable) (the mustache too...i just stare blankly)

30+ year old fictional men

everyone who says they're babybear coded...i love you like truly

bob (as i attempt to conjure a drabble for him)

i am a simple girl...also thank you nyn :) hehe

[tngrace]

RPF Masterlist

Miles Teller fics:

Oscar Night: x reader

Cannes: x OC - SMUT

Hole~N~One : x reader - SMUT

Danny Ramirez fics:

Hospital Visits : x OC -SMUT

After Workout Glow : x OC - SMUT

Glen Powell fics:

Recording: x OC - SMUT

Photo Shoot : x OC -SMUT

Norman Reedus fics:

these link to my old blog & I’d honestly forgotten about them but I wanted to share them here too

Ride: x Reader - NSFW

Drabble: X Reader - Migraine 

[annepsilvaauthor]

Fighter Weapons — Chapter 11

Pairing(s): Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x OC (Claire Mitchell) / Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Natasha "Phoenix" Trace

Summary: An untold story. A series that shows what happened during the Top Gun of our beloved pilots of Top Gun: Maverick.

Warnings: Subtle sexual innuendos, brief language, alcohol consumption, angst, smut, fluffy.

Word Count: 7.154

The darlings who don't want to miss any updates ↪️ @missathlete31 @togetherisawonderfulplacetobe @switch3rr @na0my @aprilwithapricots @goldenloverschild @rightwhereiwantyou @jackiequick @oliviah-25 @bellyliveslife @anerdquemoraaolado @callsign-barbell @struggling-with-space

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

SAN DIEGO BEACH, CA

The moon was already up, so bright and full in the huge black sheet that covered the sky. The breeze was cold, but not in an uncomfortable way, just a relief for skin accustomed to the sun's rays. Bradley stuffed the keys to his Bronco into the front pocket of his pale blue jeans and charged toward The Hard Deck.

As it was almost midnight, the room was full of naval officers and fighter pilots. Some were in uniform, despite having been released from formalities on the day off, and others in civilian clothes. The sailors and marines in uniform were surrounded by women who either laughed exaggeratedly or were astonished at the incredible stories they told. Bradley didn't judge that situation, since those men came there to relieve the tension of the job and the women knew very well what they did and what was expected of them.

He watched some Top Gun pilots at the back of the bar around the pool table. Some sat on the black stools while chatting heartily, others watched the beach outside through the windows and the rest played a game with a few bottles of beer as a toast.

Bradley walked towards the counter and was greeted with a smile by Penny.

“I had the piano fixed. All the strings are tight now.” she informed with an implicit request.

"Any music in particular?" He returned the smile.

“Hmm.” She looked up at the railing filled with miniature planes. “She's got a way.”

“Ow! Billy Joel at midnight? Bold.”

"You try to be worth the melancholy." She pointed at him with her index finger and a warning expression.

“Perhaps I need to vent my melancholy.” he confessed in a sigh and soon realized what he had done. Penny was looking at him intently and he cleared his throat. “The usual, please.”

Penny smiled the tiniest bit and turned back to her inventory. Bradley turned his gaze toward the pool table, where a lively game was in progress. Phoenix competed against Hangman. Judging by Hangman's frowning expression, he was losing. Phoenix didn't hesitate to celebrate each point, teasing him.

Phoenix wore her heavy boots, light blue jeans and a beige silk tank top, exposing her freshly tanned skin and bikini line. Bradley raised an eyebrow at the sight. Not that it was ugly, but he had another idea about Phoenix's dress. He figured she would never show any skin around her co-workers. He knew how inconvenient some men could be, just as she must know very well. However, seeing her so at ease around them left him surprised, not to say suspicious.

"Looks like someone's distracted." Phoenix taunted with a conspiratorial smile.

“I'm thinking about what I'm going to ask you when I win.” Hangman smiled victoriously.

"How about never having the displeasure of looking at that face of yours again?"

She kept her smile and the surrounding pilots let out "uuh" and "ooh". Hangman held back his smile as well and twirled the toothpick with his tongue.

“So you've already accepted that you lost.”

“If that's my prize, I can let you win.”

Hangman shook his head and walked over to Phoenix, whispering in her ear. Bradley watched the way she let him close. He lightly touched her waist with one hand and the chest covered by a brown leather jacket was almost glued to hers. Phoenix was an attractive woman and one of the few in the Navy, and Bradley knew that both of these factors made officers want to have fun with her. He himself had seen countless cases like this and Top Gun was no exception.

Bradley noticed the way they looked at her and some were more intrusive and tried to touch her, but Phoenix always shooed them away, always gave them a firm answer or slapped their hand. What she didn't do at that moment. Was Phoenix so drunk as to allow Hangman, the worst of them all, to approach like that in front of everyone? She was his friend. He couldn't let her fall into the wrong hands.

So Bradley took his beer from Penny and headed to the back of the bar. He walked over to Phoenix and draped an arm over her shoulders, earning a surprised look from her.

"Is this game going to take a long time?" he asked with a genuine smile on his face.

“Look what we have here. Bradley Bradshaw in a hurry.” Hangman insulted leaning on the table and staring at him steadily. “Will we have this change in the sky too?”

“Phoenix has put up with you too long.” He lifted his chin and ignored his teasing. “Besides, if I remember correctly, you're a lone wolf. You can play alone.”

Hangman kept the smug smile on his thin lips, but his gaze was sharp. Bradley pulled Phoenix lightly to get out of there, but she got away from him. He raised an eyebrow.

“I never leave a competition half done.” She exchanged glances between the two men. “When I win this match, I'll keep you company.”

"But Phoenix…”

“You heard the lady.” Hangman emphasized with amusement running across his face.

Bradley obeyed her friend's wishes and leaned against a column, waiting for the game to end. However, Hangman seemed to prolong that match as long as he could. He spent several minutes thinking about his next shot, as well as drinking nearly an entire bottle of beer between shots and choosing the ball with an uncharacteristic calmness.

The other pilots could think that Hangman was immersed in the match, analyzing everything carefully so as not to lose. But that wasn't what Bradley was looking at. Hangman teased him about the delay, getting revenge for the times Bradley had made him wait in heaven.

Bradley also noted the closeness between Storm and Coyote. They were oblivious to all that movement and seemed to be eating each other with their eyes, talking in the corner of the bar. What more surprises would he have that night?

“Getting blue already, cowboy. You're always losing to me.” Phoenix teased after winning the match.

"Always time for one more." He invited and offered her a beer. She accepted the bottle without a second thought.

“You're right. There is always time for you to lose.” She took a sip with a mocking smile on her face. “Guys, the cowboy is free now. Take it easy on him.”

“Do not do it. You will be slaughtered.”

"Um, how did you do to me?" She mocked.

The surrounding riders declared victory for Phoenix in those arguments and she approached Bradley with a smile and chest heaving. She was really enjoying herself there. He threw her a suspicious expression as he sipped his beer.

“Why that face?”

“It's my face.”

“Serious? Are you going to lie now?” She patted his shoulder. “What there was?”

“Many things.”

Bradley sighed and detached himself from the column, nodding for her to follow. He guided her to the darts and handed her a few. Phoenix smiled at yet another challenge, but was wary of what he wanted to talk about or was hiding.

"Where have you been all day?" Phoenix asked breaking the long silence that followed.

“Around. I needed to think.” he replied vaguely and threw a dart at the board.

“You've been training.” She praised and threw a dart too, hitting the red target. “But not enough.”

He smiled as he took another sip of his only beer of the night. Phoenix was becoming more and more competitive and, although he didn't appreciate that trait, he couldn't bring himself to dislike her friend. That was an intrinsic characteristic of her and made her who she was. Without that, Phoenix wouldn't be his dearest friend.

He noticed the tan mark again and asked:

“And you? Where have you been all day?”

He saw her straighten her back slightly and run a hand over her bare shoulder. She threw another dart and vibrated as it hit the target once more. Her gaze fled to the pool table, where Hangman was watching her with a proud smile. Phoenix turned the black orbs on Bradley and replied by swallowing a sigh:

“On the beach.”

“I can see it.” He pointed with his eyes at her shoulders.

“Bradshaw, Bradshaw.” She approached him with a playful smile and rested a hand on the wall behind him. In front of them, Hangman missed a shot and swore loudly.

“You're acting weird today. Why don't you go do what you do best?”

“You know, I think everyone here thinks I'm an employee to entertain you.” he complained, but his eyes smiled. “I have a right to relax in silence, you know?”

Phoenix widened her smile and took a step forward.

“You're acting weird today too.” He pressed himself against the wall behind him, for she was really close.

Storm and Coyote walked past them hugging and laughing at something extremely funny as they headed to the ladies' room. Both.

“What's going on with everyone?” he asked in frustration.

“A lot can happen on a day off.” she explained with a wink. He noticed that her gaze had slipped behind him and he was even more puzzled. "Perhaps your music will put everything back together."

“God, so I need to play urgently!”

Phoenix laughed out loud at his despair and walked away. Bradley walked over to the piano and sat down. He played with a few keys and soon attracted attention to himself. He started playing Jerry Lee Lewis and Ray Charles to liven up the night. Phoenix danced beside the piano with determination, plucking Storm from Coyote's arms and leading her along for some love songs.

After a while, Phoenix needed to renew her drink and walked over to Penny's counter. Behind her, Rooster started playing She's Got A Way.

"She's got a way about her

I don't know what it is

But I know that I can't live without her

She she's got a way of pleasin'

I don't know why it is

But there doesn't have to be a reason anyway"

However, before she could ask, a voice sounded behind her:

“Two shots of Pincer, Penny, dear.”

"What's the reason for something so strong, Bagman?" she taunted turning around and propping her elbows on the counter.

"She's got a smile that heals me

I don't know why it is

But I have to laugh when she reveals me

She's got a way of talking

Don't know why it is

But it lifts me up when we are walking anywhere"

"I need this to get through all this singing." His voice was low, almost tired, but his eyes were wide awake. "Does he really have to do this every night?"

"And do you really need to be a complainer? Relax and enjoy the music. Everyone is enjoying it.”

"I prefer country music." He shrugged and picked up both glasses, handing one to her.

They both downed the vodka in one gulp, hitting the glass back on the counter at the same time. The liquid went burning down their throats, but none dared grimace or look away. Finally, Phoenix raised her chin defiantly and Hangman smiled proudly.

"She comes to me when I'm feelin' down

Inspires me without a sound

She touches me and I get turned around

She's got a way of showin'

How I make her feel

And I find the strength to keep on goin'

She's got a light around her

And everywhere she goes

A million dreams of love surround her everywhere"

"Ask for a song." she said after a few seconds of tasting the drink.

"No thanks. My country demands respect."

"Respect?" She put a hand on her hip and it was his turn to lean on the counter. “You're making this up. You are jealous."

"Jealous? From who?"

"Rooster."

"The drink was too strong for you." He grimaced and pointed at the piano. "Why would I be jealous of that out of tune?"

"That 'out of tune' stole all the attention from you." she taunted with a mocking smile. “And you hate it."

"I see you already know me well." His smile turned mischievous.

“You are not a difficult man to read."

Hangman looked away from her, staring into the distance without a specific point and Phoenix knew he wasn't interested in the bar's decor. She sighed and remembered something.

"I must return this to you." She took his cell phone out of her pocket and held it out.

He looked at the device without remembering that she still had it and looked at it with a certain contempt. Finally, he took out his cell phone and put it away. Hangman remained silent for a while and Phoenix decided to leave him alone with her thoughts. She had already chased away too many dark clouds in his gaze that day.

"She comes to me when I'm feelin' down

Inspires me without a sound

She touches me

I get turned around"

However, a large, warm hand engulfed hers before she was gone. Phoenix turned her gaze over his to find those emeralds shimmering in tenderness and she couldn't help but smile. A genuine smile.

"She's got a smile that heals me

I don't know why it is

But I have to laugh when she reveals me

She's got a way about her

I don't know what it is

But I know that I can't live without her anyway"

Maybe the vodka really was too strong that night, because Phoenix felt her chest burn and rise and fall without stopping. She could really be getting drunk because she wanted to get closer. She wanted to smell the coconut again, the grip of his hands on her body, the warmth of her embrace.

However, she managed to break free from the trance by taking care of what she wanted. This was beyond what she had ever wanted or needed from anyone. It was too intimate, too daring, too dangerous. It was obvious that she would never allow Hangman to touch her like that again. She was just involved in the situation, but she had her principles and wills under control. Phoenix wouldn't be controlled by feelings or anyone else.

Then, she slowly disentangled her fingers from his and walked away without looking back. She was right. It was just a fun day next to each other. Just it. She shouldn't want more. She couldn't want more. But why did her body feel numb as she walked away from him?

Bradley kept playing and singing, and for a few hours he forgot what he had done, what he had felt in that elevator. With her. But as the night wore on and the chosen songs took a romantic turn, he remembered the feel of her in his arms, the softness of her skin, the way she melted on his lips and the taste of her kiss.

For a few seconds, it felt like heaven. He and she giving in to repressed desires and feelings. However, having the moment broken by Hangman, they returned to the harsh and painful reality of their past and Maverick's shadow looming over them. Claire politely walked away from him and disappeared, leaving only her lavender scent engraved in Bradley's body and mind.

He looked for her around the hangar that day. He called her cell phone many times. And, with infamous courage, Bradley knocked on her door. He wanted to talk, he needed to clarify everything even if he himself didn't understand what was going on. But he needed answers. However, no one answered. She was running from him again. He lowered his gaze and drove his Bronco around town with no particular direction. It happened again. Again, a thrust from him carried her away. Following instincts definitely didn't work for him.

When the requests took a turn he couldn't stand anymore, Bradley decided to leave the piano to boos and "oohs". He bowed in thanks for their attention and walked away with a sigh, something that wasn't lost on Phoenix. He sat on a stool next to the darts and his friend followed, sitting beside him.

“Okay, what's going on?" Phoenix asked bluntly.

Bradley smiled the tiniest bit at her directness and crossed his arms. There was a lot to think about, a lot to say, but nothing concrete. He didn't even know what was going on.

"It is complicated." he finally confessed.

"Excellent. I've never had anything easy in my life. I know how "complicated" works."

“I don't think it can be resolved like that."

“You're doubting my ability." She feigned indignation and reached for his knee, stroking it. “If we don't solve it, talking about it helps."

"It's a long story."

“We have all night." She smiled gently at the confusion on his face. "You can trust me."

Bradley hadn't known Phoenix for very long, a week wasn't enough to trust someone, especially with an issue like the one that had been gnawing at him for years. But, not everything happens according to logic. From day one, Bradley felt that he could trust Phoenix. He watched the way she protected Storm, how she defended and cared for her. He also noticed that, as much as the pilots were too bold or had a big tongue, Phoenix was never afraid to face them nor did she fail to extend her hand to any of them who needed help. She was strong, determined, and sensitive enough to see beyond the wall. He knew he could trust her.

However, before he confessed the reason for his anguish, a huge body stopped in front of them. Hangman had his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, his chest puffing out under his plaid shirt, his face showing impatience.

“You have to pick one, Bradshaw. You can't have them all." he muttered with the cynical smile.

Bradley sighed heavily and scratched his forehead, shaking his head. Phoenix noticed his friend's exhaustion and decided to intervene:

“Not a good time, Bagman."

“It's been a good two hours." He should stop fooling you and go after who he really wants.

“Nothing to be fooled about."

"OK I understand. I was wrong in thinking that the old Bradshaw had changed. When the decisive moment comes, he backs off, doesn't he?"

"What you want after all? Shouldn't you be having fun far away from us?"

“Oh, I will." Hagman looked directly at Bradley. "But first I wanted to make sure he was going to keep having you as a step."

"You have no right to talk about me like that!" Phoenix was starting to change.

“Don't get carried away, Phoenix. That's what he wants." Bradley answered calmly.

Phoenix tried to stay calm by taking deep breaths. He would not take her peace away.

"Serious? Are you going to let him control you again?"

"As long as it's not you." she replied coldly.

Hangman laughed humorlessly and shook his head.

“I thought you were different." he commented with some hurt and Phoenix felt the weight. He wasn't just referring to Rooster, but to her earlier abandonment.

“I thought the same about you." She lifted her chin in defiance, but deep inside her heart stirred. “Looks like it wasn't the Rooster who was fooling me after all. You will always be an asshole."

Phoenix said those words with such force that even Bradley felt the impact. He noticed her hard expression and swallowed hard. She was defending him tooth and nail like the good friend she was, but… he sensed something else, something deeper burning between the two of them and he became alert.

Hangman glared at her, but her eyes showed hurt and disappointment. Finally, he nodded and walked away from them, heading for the exit. Bradley noticed Phoenix's gaze drop and stray for a few moments. He could almost feel the confusion inside her, a confusion similar to his own.

"Thanks." he thanked with a small smile. "You're a good friend."

She continued away in her thoughts for a while until she raised her black eyes to his. They were filled with anguish, confusion and fear, emotions he never thought he could see in Phoenix. She was like a strong wall every day, pushing herself to the limit in every assignment and class. To him, Phoenix looked like a superhero. Until that moment.

He returned the favor by giving her a hug and offering to drop her off. But Phoenix refused saying that she should take care of Storm. She still didn't fully trust Coyote. Bradley nodded and walked away from her slowly trying to make sure she was going to be okay. Phoenix lifted her chin in a smile and it eased his heart. She would be fine, she always would be.

[***]

Phoenix fidgeted on her bed frantically, her mind filled with thoughts of that day. His hurt look wouldn't let her, as well as the anger that he was so arrogant. But her biggest anger was at herself for imagining that he could change. He showed he didn't and she felt like a clown. She was even crazier for thinking about it. Why should he be any different? Would they ever become friends? There was no reason for them to get close again. Not after what he's done. Phoenix could take all the name-calling in the world, but she would never have her friends messed with. It was her own law.

She decided to get up to chase away the thoughts. She watched Storm sleep peacefully on the bed next to her and sighed. They still haven't had a chance to talk about what's going on between Storm and Coyote, but it won't be long. Her friend wasn't going to run away from that conversation.

Phoenix left the room wearing only her makeshift pajamas, gray sweat shorts, and a black T-shirt emblazoned with GO LATINS! in gold. She tied her hair in a loose bun as she walked around the hangar facility without fear of being seen, as at that hour no one was awake.

She entered the break room and made her way to the scullery to pour herself a glass of water. The environment was dark, being illuminated only by the lights of the airstrip and of the fighters outside that crossed through the glass of the windows. Phoenix took the glass and left the pantry, sitting on a stool at the counter and turned on the small radio. She listened to the tower communicating with the pilots and vice versa, the adrenaline, the commands, the sound between cuts. That served to calm her down, change the focus of her thoughts to what they really should be in those days. The work. Anything beyond that was drama and totally expendable.

However, she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder and her body tensed. Her heart raced like the engines of her fighter jet. She swallowed hard. It couldn't be him, not then. It was late, she felt vulnerable and he couldn't see that. Never. Phoenix knew she wasn't strong enough to shoo him away again. She didn't know if she could be tough again and meet that sad gaze. She wanted to be a stone, unbreakable, impenetrable. But she wasn't. And it pissed her off.

She turned and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Rooster's figure in front of her. He was still wearing his clothes from earlier, but his pockmarked face indicated that he had tried to sleep but just couldn't.

"I scared you?" he asked with a worried expression.

She shook her head and reached for the glass of water, hoping he wouldn't notice her shaking hand. She turned off the radio.

"Fell out of bed?" she joked as she recovered.

"Almost that." He sat on the bench next to her. " I can't sleep."

"Is that still bothering you?"

"Yes a lot." He ruffled his hair with one hand. "I feel like I'm going to freak out at any moment."

“Please let me know when this happens so I can film it and use it against you in the future." She teased him with a gentle smile, hoping to change his mood, but she didn't get more than a glimmer of a smile. "Talk to me."

She watched him close his eyes for a few seconds in pain and continued to smooth his hair with his fingers. Whatever it was, it was disturbing him to the core, and Phoenix was touched. Then, he confessed as if his words burned his tongue:

“I kissed Claire."

Phoenix took a few seconds to absorb the information. Finally, she asked without understanding:

"What? Did you...kissed...did you kiss our instructor? That's it?"

“She's not just an instructor for me." He opened his eyes, but he was still unable to look at her. "We've known each other pretty much our whole lives. We were raised almost like brothers."

“Brothers don't kiss, Rooster."

"I know. I never saw her like this... I mean, when I was young, yes, but not later." He sighed heavily and scratched his forehead. “I felt something different for her…I think I still do…and maybe she does too."

Phoenix took a few more seconds to digest that very intriguing information. It was shocking. It was wrong. It was worthy of punishment. He could be dropped from the program for insubordination. This was really serious. But Phoenix knew it wasn't those factors that bothered her friend. Rooster was unsure of his feelings and her reciprocity.

It was ironic that that drama landed right in her hands, a staunch drama fugitive. But she needed to say something. Her friend needed a light, and even though she wasn't the most romantic person in the world or spoke any love language, Phoenix struggled to say,

“Tell her everything. If you feel something, she deserves to know. Maybe that's the push she needs to reveal everything too."

"I can't." He met her eyes for the first time. They were wet and wasted.

"Why not? It is clearly eating you up."

“We…have a painful past. We are bound by a sad story and it will never go away."

“It doesn't have to go away. You just have to deal with it... your way."

“I really wish it were that simple." He shook his head, wiping a tear away. "We try. For years. It always comes back... it always torments us."

“You'll never be happy if you're stuck in the past. Even apart."

She watched another tear trickle down his cheek and hurried to gently wipe it away. Rooster didn't move, didn't even blink. He lost himself in thought again and she didn't force him. Rooster needed a break.

“I don't think our destiny was ever to be together." he confessed sadly.

Then she leaned towards him and hugged him. He took two seconds to get over the gesture and settled into her arms, having his broad back stroked by her. They remained like that for a while, in silence. Phoenix knew it wouldn't be easy for him or Claire to get past whatever was haunting the present, but as long as she was around she would always support her newest and dearest friend. Rooster was a good man and deserved to be happy.

As she hugged him, she became aware of another figure wandering around the room. He was barefoot, wearing blue cotton pants and a gray T-shirt with NAVY written in the center. His hair was free of all that gel he used to use, kind of messy. She could barely see his face, but the emeralds were still shining, less but still shining.

Her heart started beating so hard that she felt dizzy. She felt her body react to his presence in a way she didn't know. Her hands shook, her mouth watered, a burning burned in her chest, and her crotch tingled a few times.

Suddenly, Rooster slowly ended the hug and looked at her with a question mark on his face.

“You're burning up, Phoenix." He touched the skin on her arms. "Are you getting a fever?"

She noticed that it really was hot and she didn't know what to answer. But luckily she didn't have to, because Rooster noticed Hangman's presence and asked him:

"Why are you here?"

“Oh, I'm not here. It's just a beautiful mirage. The lovebirds can continue to lick each other."

Hangman said this in a serious tone and no smile on his lips. Not even a cynic. Phoenix was surprised by that. It was only then that she noticed his belongings. Hangman spread a white cloth over the couch and propped a pillow on its arm. His beige uniform and flight suit were neatly folded on the coffee table, as were his sheets and a book. Phoenix tried to read the title, but the poor light wouldn't allow it. Was he a reader? Information she'd never thought likely.

"What are you doing?" it was her turn to ask.

“Come on… you're smart. You'll find out soon enough." he mocked, still without a smile.

“You can't sleep here. It's forbidden." Rooster recalled attentively.

"Excellent. The forbidden is always better." He sat on the couch. "You know that very well, don't you, Rooster?"

Rooster shook his head in an expression that almost said "I'm too tired for this" and got to his feet. Phoenix accompanied him into the action, but her eyes were still locked on the new member of the room. Rooster was right. Everyone was freaking out that day.

"I don't want to be here when they find you."

“Fine for me. I like to be alone."

Rooster rolled his eyes and took Phoenix's arm to guide them out of there, but she didn't budge. He raised an eyebrow and she whispered that she would be gone in a few moments. Rooster looked at her suspiciously, but decided to obey. As much as he wanted to protect her, Phoenix knew how to take care of herself. She watched her friend leave the room and close the door.

Phoenix glanced back at the figure stripping her of sanity and caught him looking back. Emeralds roamed every inch of her, taking too long on her bare legs and she felt her skin burn again. The air conditioning in that room needed a good repair.

"Aren't you going to run after him again?" he commented leaning against the sofa and extending his muscular arms over the top of the backrest.

Phoenix had to concentrate very hard not to bite her bottom lip. Arrg! She hated the fact that he was so hot.

"I wasn't the one who ran away." she snapped, remembering his sudden departure from the bar.

Hangman moved his lips.

"I had some unfinished business."

"At two in the morning? Sure."

He looked away from hers and Phoenix walked over to him standing next to the coffee table. The close-up view was even more breathtaking with the veins in high relief and hair jumping from the chest. Phoenix felt her breasts react and she crossed her arms. Damned day not to wear a bra!

“That was ridiculous." she complained with a feline look.

“I was just protecting you." he confessed in a barely audible voice.

"No, you were being possessive! There is a big difference."

“How can I be possessive over someone who isn't mine?"

"Exactly. You don't have that right."

They exchanged hard looks for a while, seeing the anger and anguish and hurt in every blink. They shouldn't feel that mountain of feelings. They had known each other for just a week. They weren't friends, not even close. They were rivals in everything. So why did all that stuff suddenly appear?

“Well, if you're done, you can leave. I'm an asshole who needs sleep."

She noted the emphasis he placed on "asshole" and sighed heavily. Maybe she overreacted, maybe she crossed the line, maybe she was using Rooster's defense as an excuse to push him away. The hurt in his eyes was almost palpable. And that shouldn't bother her, after all he wasn't there to make friends nor did she want his friendship. She didn't need to redeem herself or explain her actions. So she took a different turn in the conversation.

"One more question." She sat on the end of the coffee table and got his full attention. "Why are you sleeping here?"

"Why the curiosity? Are you worried about me by any chance?" he asked with some bluntness.

"Just making sure you haven't gone completely insane."

“Too late for that, Phoenix."

Phoenix. No Trace or my angel. Just her codename. Something impartial, professional and distant. No smirks or smug smiles. She should be grateful that he finally obeyed her and stopped the flirting and the nicknames and the goofy smile. He looked like a completely different person now. And that started to get really annoying. She had to catch a glimpse of Bagman or the world wouldn't be orbiting her.

Then, she held a hand out in front of him. He looked at her with an expression that said "who's freaking out right now?" Phoenix rolled her eyes and insisted on the gesture. He lifted her hand and it engulfed hers, warm and firm. Her body felt his presence again and she swallowed hard.

She wrapped his hand around hers, leaving only her thumbs exposed, and began to move. She beat him two, three times and was already thinking that her strategy wasn't going to work until Hangman joined the game and beat her four, five, six times, crushing her little thumb. But she didn't care. The smug smile was back, as was the ferocity in his gaze. How she hated it. But it was infinitely better than not seeing him like this.

"Stop it." he asked in a low, husky voice.

"With what?"

“Be affectionate with me. It makes me want to kiss you."

That phrase reverberated through every cell in her body, sending a warm shiver down her lower abdomen. But she wouldn't let him see how affected she was. Phoenix lifted her chin in defiance.

"Is that supposed to make me scared or horny?Because it didn't work in either case."

“Oh really?" His tone was mischievous, which irritated her.

“Yes, I don't feel anything, Bagman. And I will never feel."

"It's a challenge?" She didn't answer and he widened his smile. "I'll take that as a yes."

She watched as he sat down on the edge of the upholstery and tilted his face towards hers in such a swift movement, her eyes widened. This didn't go unnoticed by him as he smirked smugly. Phoenix furrowed her brow, shooting him a death glare. Why did she have to bring him back?

Hangman got even closer to her face, setting those bright emeralds in her eyes. They crackled, danced in desire and tenderness. A combination she wasn't sure she was safe with. So Hangman started his work. He placed warm kisses on her chin, tracing a path down her length. His touch was soft, light and extremely warm. She felt like she was on a beach sinking her feet into the sand after a whole day in the blazing sun.

He kissed down her throat as calmly as if he had all night for that. He dragged his lips down the curve of her neck, using his hot tongue and teeth to mark her. Phoenix shuddered at that, felt goosebumps all over her body and more twinges between her legs, which made her rub against each other. She felt his smile on her skin.

"Not yet, my angel?"

"No." She shook her head and didn't risk saying more than that, because she didn't trust her voice.

Hangman traced a nibbling path down the back of her neck, up to her ear, and stopped. She felt the quick, hot breath there, teasing, playing with her senses and little awareness. His scent intoxicated her too. That scent of coconut with aftershave and a splash of vodka was driving her crazy.

“You smell so good, my angel." he whispered and another shiver hit her.

“I use the same soap as you. Fightertown standard."

He chuckled excitedly and touched it there with the tip of his tongue, dragging it slowly across its length and Phoenix couldn't hold back a gasp. Hearing that, Hangman quickly turned his face in front of her and smiled. That annoying smug smile was back.

“My work is done. I won."

“No, you didn't win. I did nothing." She lied, for she would never admit that she craved his touch.

"Hmmmm..." he sighed in her face, making a point of prolonging the sound. Phoenix forced her legs together again. "You are stealing. Again."

"I'm not! Arrg...you are insufferable, Bagman."

He laughed, a good, loud laugh, which pissed her off even more. One day she would break all those perfect teeth of his.

"Stop laughing, idiot! There's nothing funny here."

“Of course there is. You really hate losing. And even more admitting that you lost... and that you're attracted to me. He leaned back against the sofa, resting his arms on the back.

"You've completely gone mad! I already made sure of that."

“It's not such a hard thing to admit, my angel. Many women feel the same way." He was giving her a mocking smile, but his eyes were burning with desire. "Ask me to kiss you and I will."

It was her turn to laugh, but without humor.

“The day that happens I will no longer be called Natasha Trace."

"Hmm. So it's better to start choosing another name."

Phoenix was shaking all over and she couldn't tell if it was due to anger or desire. Maybe both. Hangman managed to get her serious in many ways. She needed to get out of here or she could end the night with her hands at his throat or under those sheets. The tension between them only grew and she knew nothing good could come of two highly attractive people in a darkened room, alone, wearing nothing but pajamas at three-thirty in the morning. Then she stood up and replied:

“You already know how I feel about asking."

Phoenix turned on her heels and took a step away from him. But when she took another step, a strong, warm hand gripped her arm and stopped her. The same hand slid up to her face and brought her back so close to him that she could feel every muscle in her abdomen, chest and legs. His eyes, even in the dim light, burned and his brow creased as if in pain. His quick, hot breathing warmed her face like a peaceful day at the beach.

Phoenix remained motionless. She was trapped in that gaze. In that touch. In the heat of his body. She knew she should pull away, she should shoo him away like she would any man who surrounded her like that without permission. She once slapped one for a lot less. So why was Hangman any different? Why was her body screaming to get even closer to him? They should hate each other. But their bodies looked so good together...

“Still so proud."

Then he kissed her. A hard, desperate kiss as if he had to have her for himself, as if he was dying to memorize the feel of her lips against his. The taste of him was driving her crazy. He was pure heat and desire and vodka and she wanted more. Phoenix pulled him closer by the shirt straps with force, making them very thin and probably showing his shoulders.

He was kissing her as if he already knew every part of her mouth. He was kissing her confidently, without shyness or that awkward adjustment of a first kiss. He seemed to have imagined this moment so many times, in so many different ways, that when they finally touched, it was as if they had already kissed a hundred times.

Phoenix couldn't say how or at what moment, but she realized it too late when he had already lifted her off the floor and carried her to the couch, holding her on his lap. Her mind was a complete blank, not a single thought would pass through it if it weren't for him. She was no longer on the sand, not even on the shore. Phoenix was fully immersed in the salty waters of desire. And the coconut scent of him said it.

His hands roamed her body, curious and strong, caressing her shoulders, her back, her ribs, her bare legs and her bottom. Phoenix moaned softly as he held her there and Hangman intensified the kiss, letting out a few gasps of air that burned her skin. And she tasted him. She tasted his mouth, his neck, the square line of his jaw. She teased the soft blond strands into a needy kiss, as if she had never kissed anyone and never would. She felt her own brow furrow from the strength and desperation that surged there, and feared. She was losing control of herself, she was drowning in him, giving herself away in a way she didn't remember if she ever had. And it was very dangerous.

So, she used all the strength she had left to pry her lips away from them.

"Hangman..." she asked in a hoarse whisper.

"Oh, no…no…" he pleaded between more long, hot kisses.

"We need...to stop..."

"No..." He repeated that word as if he had forgotten all the others he had learned in his entire life.

Phoenix watched his rapid breathing, heavy eyes, and swollen, red lips. His hair was a mess, as were his clothes, and she couldn't help but gasp. It was a vision of the gods. Her whole body was crying out for her to stay there, end that night in his arms and forget about everything. But she couldn't. She couldn't forget, couldn't let herself be taken in by him...she couldn't let him in.

"Need to go."

And she didn't expect a response from him, not even a goodnight. Phoenix broke free of his body and practically ran away, back to her room closing the door and leaning against it. She was safe. Safe. There she would not drown. She could breathe again.

Phoenix ran a hand through her tousled hair and lay back, trying to breathe in and out normally again.

"Natty?" She heard a growl beside her.

"I am here." She tried to control her voice but failed.

"Did you go for a run?"

She buried her face in her hands and smiled slightly.

"Almost that. Go back to sleep...we'll have an intense day in a while."

Intense in every way. She felt that that day would not be the only one that would be turned upside down.

[bobfloydsbabe]

I posted 3,882 times in 2022

That's 3,019 more posts than 2021!

989 posts created (25%)

2,893 posts reblogged (75%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@bobfloydsbabe

@asirensrage

@joaquinwhorres

@zoeydeschanel

@dailybridgerton

I tagged 3,869 of my posts in 2022

#the winner's queue - 1,335 posts

#message - 472 posts

#answered - 468 posts

#helena rants - 373 posts

#friends oc - 333 posts

#!!! - 217 posts

#friends fic - 194 posts

#mcu - 182 posts

#marvel - 179 posts

#friends creations - 176 posts

Longest Tag: 112 characters

#nothing takes me out of the reading experience more than someone writing unphased when they clearly mean unfazed

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

An Non-Comprehensive List of Things in the Bridgerton Season 2 Trailer That Made Me Go Feral™

Violet announcing to everyone that Anthony is looking for a wife

ICONIC™

Lady Danbury introducing Kate and Edwina

Anthony walking with Mary

Any time Jonathan Bailey appears tbh

THE BRIDGERTON GANG

including Baby Basset

Anthony telling Benedict he is NOT choosing with his "heart"

BENEDICT

Scruffy Colin

ABC in tophats

Any time Simone Ashley is on screen tbh

Benedict: "the Sisterrrrrr"

NEWTON

OUR FLUFFY BOY

Kate closing the doors in Anthony's face

His face when Kate closes the doors in his face

More Baby Basset

I SPOT FRAN

ELOISE BEING FRIENDS WITH KATE AND ROASTING THE MEN

PALL MALL

pall mall pall mall pall mall

Benedict's face is too expressive for his own good

Anthony and his pink mallet begrudgingly clapping

THE BEE STING ON KATE'S NECK

I REPEAT THERE'S A BEE STING ON KATE'S NECK

(or is it a hickey)

THAT shot of Anthony

You know the one I'm talking about

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115 notes - Posted March 9, 2022

#4

My brain when Miles Teller appeared on screen in Top Gun: Maverick

123 notes - Posted June 5, 2022

#3

hands in your hair | jake 'hangman' seresin x oc

Rating: T+ Warnings: Alcohol, kissing Prompt: Running fingers through hair Requested: Yes, by @natrace Word count: ~1.4k (i blacked out) Summary: Jake doesn't mean to touch Jas' hair.

A/N: Thank you so much to Lyra, who requested this drabble, which turned out much longer than I intended. She's having a pretty shit day with people impersonating her because of her connection to me, so I thought finally posting this might cheer her up. This does not fall into the overall canon of the Turning Tables universe. Enjoy!

Likes are nice, but comments (and reblogs, esp. with tags) are golden!

They were sitting in a booth at the Hard Deck. Jas was arguing animatedly with Phoenix and Payback about something Jake wasn't even remotely interested in.

He watched Jas as she moved her hands, incensed that neither of her sparring partners was on her side. Her lips pursed as she listened to Phoenix, her nose scrunched in concentration, and her light brown hair fell over her shoulders and down her back in loose waves.

He liked her like this the most. Relaxed and free, out of that heinous uniform that made very few people look good. Actually, he liked her best when she was falling apart under him, but this image wasn't far behind.

He wanted to tell her, but Jas would tell him to fuck off. It felt like a miracle that she was even sitting next to him.

"That's just stupid," Jas huffed, clearly horrified at whatever Payback had just said.

Jake's arm was slung across the back of the booth, his eyes trained on her side profile. He wanted to touch her, feel her skin under his fingertips, and hear her sigh his name like she did when they were alone and tangled up in each other. When she called him Jake instead of Seresin.

"Whatever," Payback said, shaking his head in surrender. He got up and headed to the bar to get another beer. Phoenix followed him out of the booth and joined the rest of the squad at the pool table.

Jas turned her head to him with an incredulous look. "What do you think you're doing?"

The bottle he was raising to his lips halted halfway in the air, his brows knitting together. "I'm not doing anything."

Jas narrowed her eyes at him. She then looked over her shoulder at his hand resting on the back of the booth. "You're touching my hair."

Jake opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out as he caught a glimpse of his hand very clearly in Jas' hair.

He hadn't realized he was doing it.

He removed his hand and pulled it to himself, letting it fall back at his side. "Sorry," he muttered and took a sip of his beer. He wasn't, though, not really.

Jas held his gaze. She looked disappointed, but he had to be imagining it. There's no way he wasn't. Jas had made it very clear that what happened in her office was a one-time thing, which meant that intimate gestures like playing with her hair, intentional or not, were off-limits.

"It's okay," she finally said and turned her head back to the rest of the squad, who appeared to be discussing teams for another round of pool.

There was something in her tone Jake couldn't quite place.

She finished off her beer and moved to stand. "I need some air."

He watched her leave. She crossed the expanse of the bar at a rapid pace, ignoring Rooster when he asked her to join him for a round of darts. Jas flung the door to the deck open, and Jake watched her shoulders slump through the window the moment she was outside.

Jake caught Phoenix's eye as they flickered from the door Jas had disappeared out of to Jake, who still sat in the booth nursing a beer. She walked back towards him, ignoring Coyote's question of where she was going.

She stopped in front of the booth. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything." He hadn't, and Jas said it was okay.

Phoenix didn't look convinced. "You must've done something to make her storm out of here."

Jake shrugged. "She said she needed some air."

Phoenix offered him a skeptical look, but she didn't say anything. She just went back to the pool table to continue the game, flipping Coyote off when he made a remark she didn't appreciate.

Jake replayed the conversation with Jas in his head. The only thing he'd really done was touch her hair without asking first, but it was an absentminded gesture, and Jas hadn't been mad at him, had she? She didn't seem angry, and he'd never known her to hold back.

He had to talk to her and clear the air if she was upset, so he downed the rest of his beer in one go. He got out of the booth, strolled across the bar, and out to the deck. The door clicked shut behind him, and the noise from the bar faded to the background.

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128 notes - Posted September 15, 2022

#2

make the tables turn | jake 'hangman' seresin x oc

Rating: T+ Warning(s): Getting weighed Word count: 1.7k Prompt: N/A Requested: Yes by @anna-phora Summary: Hangman goes to get a routine physical in preparation for the mission but is surprised when his doctor is Jasmine Lane, the girl he tried to take home the night before.

A/N: Thank you to Anna, who requested this drabble, and credit also goes to her for a particular blood pressure line in the story itself. Enjoy, friends!

Edit: Read it on AO3

Likes are nice, but comments and reblogs are golden.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Garcia,” Jas said, putting a final note in his chart. “That’s all for today.”

He smiled as he did the last few buttons on his khaki uniform. “Thank you, Doctor,” he said, bidding her goodbye as he left the treatment room.

He left the door slightly ajar, and Jas heard him speak to someone in the waiting area, wishing them luck.

She was glancing at the file of her next victim when Martha, the head nurse, walked in a handful of needle supplies. “Can you please send in Lieutenant Seresin?"

Martha agreed and left to collect the Lieutenant from the waiting area. Jas took a seat in her chair, trying not to grin at the prospect of the look on his face when he saw her.

“Listen, Doc, I’m in peak physical condi…” He trailed off, stopping in his tracks just inside the threshold of her office. Martha closed the door behind the man, sending Jas a knowing look.

“I’m sure you are, Lieutenant,” Jas said, standing to shake his hand as if this was their first time meeting. “But you’re required to be here, so suck it up. I’m Dr. Lane.”

“You,” was all he said, letting go of her hand.

“Me,” she agreed, gesturing towards the chair on the opposite side of her desk. “Please have a seat.”

He sat, albeit reluctantly. “You didn’t tell me you worked here.”

Jasmine looked at him, a smile on her face. He was squirming. “You didn’t ask.”

His eyes grew hard. “I asked what you did for work,” he argued.

She nodded. “That you did,” she agreed. “And I told you I’m a doctor, which I am.” She gestured around her office and all the medical equipment. She adjusted the stethoscope around her neck.

Hangman stared at her. “You lied.”

“I didn’t.”

“Lying by omission is still lying.”

She shrugged. “Maybe, but you were too busy trying to get in my pants to notice.”

His mouth flattened into a tight line, and he eyed her suspiciously, but he didn’t say another word.

“Are you ready to begin?”

He grumbled a yes, and actually stood when Jas told him to stand at the measurement on her wall. She brought the block down and noted his height on the file.

“Have I grown, Doc?” His smile was easy, his tone confident. He was trying to get her to crack, but she’d played this game with plenty of people before him - there was nothing he could do that would surprise her.

“No,” she said, straightening up. “If you could just hop on the scale for me.”

He walked to the scale, but Jas stopped him. “Without your shoes, please.” Hangman glowered at her, his smirk gone in an instant. She gave a friendly smile, but he wasn’t having any of it. Maybe he thought she was enjoying this too much, which in all fairness, should be a feeling he understood all too well. Hadn’t he been cocky in his conviction that he could get Jas to leave with him the night before?

He sat on the bed and undid the laces of his standard issue boots in silence.

He stood on the scale, and Jasmine joined him by it, so she could adjust it until it was even. She could feel his eyes on her, assessing her every move and breath. It wasn’t something she was used to - her patients were usually most anxious about the weighing portion of their exam. Hangman seemed unfazed.

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148 notes - Posted July 21, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Still hoping he falls down the stairs

163 notes - Posted May 14, 2022

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