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Get your attention

Pairing: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky x f!reader

Summary: Going home not having attention from his girlfriend Tom is going to propose her a bet.

Warnings: +18, explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, oral sex, swearing

As Tom walked through the door, the light from the living room indicated him that it was where she was. He walked into the room to find her lying on the couch on her side, knees pulled up to her chest, her hands clasped under her cheek, head resting on the armrest and watching a movie on TV.

"Hey love, how was your day?" He said before leaning in to place a kiss on the top of her head.

"Calm and yours?" She said without looking away from the screen.

He went around the sofa to come to let himself fall on the small space which remained at the end of this one. He raised her legs to take a comfortable place and repositioned her legs on his thighs then tilted his head back against the back of the sofa.

"I can't stand him." She didn't need more than that to understand that he was talking about Maverick. Almost every night he found a way to complain about what he had done wrong during the day.

"Honey, stop caring. I hear so much about him that I feel like he's living with us."

As he gently caressed her legs he turned his head towards her before resuming.

"How do you want me to do it, he is a danger! He is totally unconscious, without any respect for the rules, unpredictable, dangerous." Under the absence of answer of her part he looked at the screen then the young woman. "Honey, are you listening to me?"

"Um um." She merely replied, already knowing these reproaches almost by heart.

Tom realized that she was no longer listening to him, perhaps he was indeed complaining a little too much about his rival. His attention returned to the screen. "What's this about?"

"Yes." She said in a weary tone making him raise an eyebrow as he turned his face towards her, she had completely dropped out and was pretending that she wasn't, thinking that he was still talking to her about Maverick. A slight chuckle shook his chest, she was completely absorbed in what she was looking at and nothing could have brought her out of her fixation, "everything maybe except ..?" He thought.

His hands slipped on her naked legs, going up to her hips, he inclined towards her, laying down kisses from the tip of his lips on her thighs going up towards the birth of her buttocks that her short shorts let guess.

"What are you doing Tom?"

"You seem to be quite captivated by your movie and not paying any attention to me. I bet I can still manage to turn you away." A smile stretching his lips, continuing to place kisses on her thigh.

A laugh echoed in her chest.

"And I bet you can't do it, it's way too interesting."

Coming to position himself above her he continued to cover her with kisses, first on the cheek, then in the neck, on the shoulder, while one of his hands caressed her thigh, going up he seized one of her buttocks in the palm of his hand before squeezing it then going down again to slip it between her thighs. He pressed himself against her coming to growl in her neck what made her laugh and she gesticulated under him, pushing back him posing a hand on his chest.

"Tom." She said laughing without however looking away from the screen. In response he seized her wrist, bringing it to his lips to kiss the inside. "Leave me alone Kazansky." She added knowing very well that it would cause the opposite.

"You didn't work today, you got all the peace and quiet you wanted." He dipped his head into her neck again. "Give me some attention." He grumbled.

"You’re crushing me." She simply replied in a joking tone.

He nibbled the skin of her neck, sliding his arms under her back, his palms then sliding under her backside. She slid one hand through his hair and the other down his back. "Here, here's some affection."

He stood up abruptly, putting his hands on either side of her head for support, and looked at her open-mouthed.

"You call that affection?" His outraged look made her giggle and before she could return her gaze to the TV, he grabbed her legs which he pulled on to unfold them and totally lay her on the couch. A cry of surprise escaped her lips and she turned her head towards him.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm gonna make you scream girl."

That sentence was enough to set her on fire and she suddenly found him much more interesting than what she had been looking at. Tom spread her legs and came to stand between them, making them go up and cross around his waist as he leaned over her burying his head under her shirt to kiss her already burning skin and was pleasantly surprised to see that she wasn't wearing a bra. He felt her heart beating faster under her chest and came to catch one of her nipples between his teeth, grabbing her second breast which made her flinch and let out a "Shit Tom." tightening the grip of her thighs around his waist. His tongue traced the outline of her nipple making her breathe harder. He pulled out from under her shirt with a naughty smile on his lips and came to crush them on hers. Sliding her hands on his chest she grabbed the bottom of his shirt to remove him and he did the same with hers. His muscular chest with the hot skin crushed again against her naked chest and pleasant tingling ran through her neck. She attacked then in his belt and the button of his jeans, he withdrew her shorts in a fraction of second and contemplated her one moment finding her always amazing, even if he knew now her body by heart he didn't get tired to look at it in the slightest details.

"Damn. Fuck I love you. "

His piercing blue eyes caught hers and he detected a small spark of excitement in it that raised the temperature in him as well.

"Show me you're the best Iceman." A growl came from his throat, he moved closer to her ear his warm breath caressing her, his breath to her neck.

"I'm not sure you're ready for that yet." He sighed in a husky voice that she felt the effect of in her crotch.

"I still am for you." She sighed in return as he slid one of his hands along her waist, over her hips and then down her thigh to finally nestle it between her legs.

"Are you sure about this?" She nodded her head with her cheeks now flushed. "Then you don't mind if I check." He finished by inserting two fingers inside her, making her arch her back in surprise and squeal, him smiling in satisfaction at finding her already heavily moist. She began to undulate the pelvis under the excitement, Tom nibbling her ear, this area being particularly erogenous for her, it was enough to feel his warm breath, that he whispers something in the ear for her to feel butterflies in her lower belly. She almost implored him to be more present in her following which he withdrew his fingers, touching by the tip of his index finger her lower lip, that she took in her mouth, her glance planted in his.

"Good girl." He murmured contentedly.

A hand above her head, the other posed on her hip, he slipped inside her and she welcomed him by tightening her legs around his waist. Their tongues intermingled a few moments before he finished by withdraw from her causing her a grumble of frustration. Frustration which went away at once when he went down lower to position his head between her legs and without warning started to play with his tongue on her clitoris, his hands seizing her hips to limit movements. Again she arched her back, her breath panting, one hand on one of his, the other gripping his hair which made him grunt with pleasure. Her moans meant she wanted more, so he slipped his fingers into her again, feeling her contract around it. When he felt she was about to reach ecstasy he stopped and straightened up smiling making her whimper with frustration again. He wanted to make her go crazy and wild under the deprivation of an orgasm. He sat down then, the head rocked backwards, the strong breath, the eyes closed and a huge smile while waiting for her to seek him, what he didn't have to wait too long. In a fraction of second she came to straddle him, passing each of her legs on each side of his waist, slipping his hands in her back, he had a moan of pleasure when she positioned herself on his member.

Both undulated hips, she to better feel him, he to go always further in her. Grabbing the sofa behind his head with one hand, the other on his shoulder, she captured between her teeth his lower lip that she bit while Tom wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her stuck to him, the other grabbing her hair. Whereas he felt the pleasure to go up always higher to reach soon its paroxysm, kidneys shots were made slower but always pushed to the farthest, their two bodies in sweat sticking one to the other, their skins devoured by the fire which animated them. Feeling thousands of tingling through his body he poured in her in a final blow of kidneys reaching finally the orgasm both.

Out of breath he put his forehead against hers, his two arms embracing her waist not to undo their embrace.

"So, you thought I couldn't do it?" He finishes by saying softly causing a small laugh from his girlfriend.

"You're way too good at this." She took his face in her hands and placed a kiss on his burning forehead. "Since I'm the one who lost, what's your gain?"

"Another round." He stood up holding her still against him, her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, leading them both into their room laughing.

Danger Meter [2]

》Crash《

▪︎Pairings: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

▪︎Pronouns: She/Her (Fem! Reader)

▪︎Warnings: Language, also probably some inaccuracies

▪︎Genre: Soulmate Au! Angst and fluff

▪︎Synopsis: Your soulmate rarely seems to be out of the High risk zone according to your mark, which makes you worry. Oh well— you already know that the same goes for him.

Note: Thank you for the likes/reblogs/comment! I couldn't help myself so here is part 2!

》 Masterlist 》 Bradley's Masterlist

》 Previous 》 Next

"Crash watch yourself, there's a-"

It was probably your fault, you were to pre-occupied thinking about what happened last night that you processed Hangman's warnings a little too late.

"Shit! Birdstrike! Birdstrike!" You yelled, looking at your controls. "Left engine is on fire! Climbing!" Hangman looks at you, growing worried about you by the second. "Don't tell me she's gonna try to fucking save it." He mumbled, keeping a close eye on you.

You'd try to save the plane even though you're literally about to nosedive into the ground. Hence the callsign 'Crash'.

"Throttling back! Shutting off fuel on left engine, extinguishing fire!" You informed Maverick and Hangman. Maverick can only utter an 'Oh my god' while Hangman could do nothing but watch worriedly.

Bob felt like someone dumped an ice bucket on him as he and his fellow naval aviators listened to the radio to know what's happening on air. His insides were twisting as he wanted to do nothing but to hurl and cry.

Everyone semmed to still as they continued to listen to the radio. "Bird strike..?" Payback mumbled.

"I think I'm going to be sick." Bob uttered, he can feel his head spinning and his hands get sweaty. Pheonix shot a worried glance at him.

Rooster, who was sitting in one of the chairs looked at Bob. "Crash's your girl, Bob?" He tried to read Bob's expression. Coyote intervened, "I think now is not the right time for you to be asking that, man."

Roster nodded as he muttered out an apology to the Weapons System Officer who was intently listening to the radio. As Rooster further observe Bob, he realized two things: Bob deeply cares for you, which makes him think you know each other personally, or you're both romantically involved. And the other one is-

He sure hopes that you and Bob aren't a thing.

Rooster was pulled away from his thoughts, hearing your voice on the radio. He felt a pit forming on his stomach as you yelled, 'Right engine is out! It's still spinning-"

'Crash! You can't save it!' Hangman's voice was heard through the radio. All of them perked up, they never heard Hangman scared before. Not even once, and the fact that he was worried for another person— considering he's Hangman, he'll leave you out to dry.

Rooster's worry grew by the second for his fellow pilot. He ran his hand through his hair, an action Coyote noticed, and without fail he saw something he thinks that's hard to believe.

Rooster's mark was an angry shade of dark red.

Coyote was stunned, his eyes widening as he tried to process his thoughts over yours, hangman's and maverick's shouting over the radio.

"No fucking way.." He breathed out, aviators beside him thought he was talking about what's happening over the radio. Boy were they wrong.

'I can't control it! I'm going down! I'm going down!' Panic and terror laced in your voice, Rooster can feel his chest tightening as he looked down and laced his hands together, finally noticing something wrong with his mark.

The stripe was almost black.

It can't be, what's happening? He looked at it, and looked back to the radio. His head was racing different thoughts per minute. He felt his breathing got labored as he tries to calm himself.

"No.. no.." Bob mumbled, clearly distraught as Pheonix offered a comforting squeeze on his shoulder.

Right, you and Bob are probably soulmates. He needs to put that into consideration, maybe it's just a coincidence? But, having your soulmate's danger meter almost turn black is rare. He read about a study that found out people who's soulmates have a high risk job (i.e being in the military) are reported to be the one experiencing red and black marks.

You— a naval aviator who's about to crash, and him, who's mark is almost black.

'You can't save it! Eject eject!' They heard Maverick yell as Hangman told the same thing. 'Crash! don't you dare join your jet crash!'

'Eject eject eject!'

Taglist [Closed]: @auszimbo

Danger Meter [4]

》Guarded《

▪︎Pairings: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

▪︎Pronouns: She/Her [Fem!Reader]

▪︎Warnings: Language and Hangman being a jerk.

▪︎Genre: Soulmate Au! Angst and fluff

▪︎Synopsis: Your soulmate rarely seems to be out of the High risk zone according to your mark, which makes you worry.Oh well— you already know the same goes for him.

Note: Bob is my comfort character. This chapter is also a long one!

》 Masterlist 》 Bradley's Masterlist

》 Previous 》Next

"Rooster and Crash, you'll be paired for today."

"Fuck me." You mumbled, as Maverick announced the partners for today's practice regarding the Uranium Mission.

Bob nearly choked at your choice of words.

It's not that you don't want to be paired with him, you just don't think ypu'll be able to focus with him being your partner because of the stupid butterflies in your stomach whenever you hear his voice or catch a glimpse of him.

The fact that he's also as cautious as can be which means you won't be able to do the normal speed you and Hangman fly at.

It's gonna be a challenge.

You walked alongside Bob on the Tarmac, about to get into your jets. Time is ticking and you needed to execute the manuevers and speed for the success of the uranium mission.

You didn't have to say it out loud for Bob to know you're beyond nervous. Given it has only been a day since you ejected from that bird stike accident, you knew you aren't in your best shape.

"You'll be just fine, y/n/n." Bob offered you a gentle smile. You let out a huff, "You sure put a hell lot of trust on me Robby, heck I don't even know if I could trust myself."

"Don't doubt yourself. I know you can do it."

You offered him a smile, "Thanks Robby, it means a lot. You always know how to make me feel better." You patted his head as he hummed.

"You're acting as if I didn't know you your whole life, y/n/n." He chuckled, your conversation was cut short as you saw something out of your pheriperal vision.

"Wait, what happened to statefarm?" You motioned over to Jake Seresin who was currently checking on his jet while sporting a bruised cheek.

Bob sighed, "A fight broke out on Hard Deck last night." You widened your eyes, "What? Last night?! Who did he fight?"

"Rooster." Bob stated, answering you and greeting the pilot as he walked closer to you and Bob. Bradley gave a small smile and a nod to the WSO in reply.

"Hey Roo– " You felt a gust of wind as he walked straight past, completely ignoring you. "What was up with him..?" Trying to shake off the hurt and embarassment, you jogged towards your jet and waving bye to Bob who only sighed and shaked his head before walking to his and pheonix's jet.

Did Bradley felt like an asshole as he purposely ignored you? Absolutely, he wants to go back and kneel as he begs you not to think he's just another jerk and apologize. He feels like a first grader who's being mean to his crush.

Why did he do that? He also doesn't fucking know. He's trying to sort put his thoughts. Well, one of the few reasons is probably for the fact that he knew Hangman was hellbent on keeping you away from him, recalling their incident last night at Hard Deck.

"You don't have the right to control her, Hangman." Rooster spat out, "She's not yours." Jake glared, "I'm just protecting her, Rooster."

"Protecting her from what?"

"From you, you think I don't know how many girls you've been with?"

Payback looked around before apologizing to Penny, seeing how many people are now staring at them, his friends causing a scene.

Coyote tried pulling Jake back, "Come on man, Penny will kick us out if you both won't stop." He shrugged off his friends grip on him.

"Oh I'm not finished."

"I should be saying the same to you, Hangman. You're acting like you're her fucking boyfriend."

"I just don't want her to end up in your bed and for you to discard her the next morning, I know your little crush on her Bradshaw. And I know you want to put her to bed-"

Something inside Rooster snapped as his fist made contact with Hangman's cheek. Jake laughed, knowing that he pushed Rooster's button as he striked back, resulting Bradley's busted lip.

"That's enough! Lieutenant Bradshaw! Lieutenant Seresin!" Maverick yelled as he stood and immediately went between them as Hangman and Rooster were pulled back buy Coyote, Payback, and Fanboy.

"We will discuss what happened early in the morning." Maverick looked at them sternly as he heard the grunts of agreement of the two.

"Rooster, you gotta speed up. We're half a minute late by the target." You informed, looking at the screen in your jet.

"We're good, we'll get there. Just maintain your speed."

You feel like you're going on a stroll or sight seeing with Bradley. You're used to the fast-paced Hangman.

"Increase to 500 knots!"

"Negative, Crash. Hold your speed."

"Rooster, we're late!"

"We're alive, we'll make up time in the straightaway."

You are beyond annoyed and shocked, talking to him feels like talking to a brick wall. Your words are just like white noise to him.

"We are not gonna make it!"

"Just trust me, maintain your speed. We can make it."

You scoffed, "By the time we'll get there we'll be a minute late!" 'This guy is unbelievable.' You thought to yourself as you continued to follow him, maintaning your speed as you've got no other choice.

"Why are you dead?" Maverick asked Rooster, "You're team leader up there, why are you, why is your team dead?"

"Sir, he's the only one that made it to the target." Pheonix interjected, as she looked at their instructor.

"A minute late. He gave the enemy aircraft time to shoot him down."

"That's what I was saying. If it was the real thing then we would've been dead." You mumbled, crossing your arms and letting out a sigh.

Apparently, you weren't silent enough since Rooster turned his head into your direction, hard eyes glancing your way. "You don't know that."

"You're not flying fast enough. You don't have a second to waste." Hangman said, agreeing with you.

Even though you always bicker and fight with Hangman, it was nothing but playful. Although you gotta admit, he's an ass and can get under people's skin, but you're sure to keep him in check. Needless to say, you almost broke his jaw when you two first met because of his habit of pushing people's buttons.

You both make the perfect pair, as soon as you're up in the sky you both worked like a well-oiled machine. Both of you are fast-paced pilots, you're the only one that can keep up with Hangman while simultaneuosly keeping him in check.

Rooster looked at Maverick, "We made it to the target."

"And superior enemy aircraft intercepted you on your way out." Maverick said. Rooster won't back down, "Then it is a dogfight."

You scrunched up your brows, you couldn't believe what you were hearing. "Against fifth generation fighters?" You asked him, clearly in disbelief by his overly optimistic views.

"Yeah, we'd still have a chance."

"In an F-18?" Maverck asks, clearly getting worked up. Bradley looked at him, "It's not the plane sir, it's the pilot."

"Exactly."

The small smile on Bradley's face fell, the room grew silent. Maverick seems to realize his words as he looked away, not meeting anyone's gaze.

Rooster looked at him, trying not to lose his composure, "There's more than one way to fly this mission."

"You really don't get it." Jake looks at Rooster, "On this mission, a man flies like maverick here, or a man does not come back."

Hangman looked at Phoenix and Bob, "No offense intended" You really wanna punch him right now. Pheonix gave him a look while Bob, who was sitting beside her, leaned over to look at him. "Yet somehow you always manage."

Hangman looked back to Rooster, "Look I don't mean to criticize, you're conservative. That's all."

"Lieutenant." Maverick warned.

"Look, we're going into combat, son. A level no living pilot has ever seen." He turned to look at Maverck. "Not even him."

"That's no time to be thinking about the past." He turned to look at Rooster's direction. Shit, you already know this won't be good. Hangman and his mouth is a great fucking combo for a disaster.

"Hangman." You looked at him, knowing he's got shit up at his sleeve. Rooster looks taken aback as he slowly looks at Hangman. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I can't be the onky one that knows Maverick flew with his old man." Your eyes slowly widened, Maverick intervened. "Okay that's enough." Jake didn't listen.

"Or that Maverick was flying when his old man-"

Bradley went straight to him as everyone scrambled in their seats to prevent them being near each other. "Shit! Hangman that's enough!" You stood beside Hangman as you pulled him back. Rooster pushed him, the force knocking Hangman and you.

You winced, trying to hide it. Even though you weren't the one he pushed, you still got the receiving end of it, considering you got brusies littering your body, it did a number on you. Hangman immediately stands infront of you, glaring at Rooster.

"You son of a bitch!" Rooster yelled at Hangman, pointing at him angrily. He felt rage. Pure unadulterated rage consumed his body. As he stares at Hangman, his fellow aviators holding him back.

Hangman shrugged his fellow aviators off, "I'm cool, I'm cool."

Just as you think it's over, Hangman opened his mouth again. "He's not cut out for this mission." You seriously want to ductape it and only remove it when he has to eat or drink.

Everything that has happened is making your head hurt. Pinching the bridge of yoru nose, you took a step back and sighed.

"That's enough." Maverick told him. He just smiled to an agitated Rooster. "You know it." Hangman turned to look at the topgun instructor infront of them.

"You know I'm right."

Taglist [Closed]: @auszimbo @twsssmlmaa @looneylikesbooks

I love how shocked Bob was by the stud comment. And I couldn’t agree more. There’s just something about him that is so cute.

Stud On Board | Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: You're nervous to meet Bob's friends for the first time. Initially you think they are poking fun at you, but then you realize that's not the case. When it becomes obvious that it's your boyfriend they're picking on, you make it a point to let them know just how much of a stud he really is.

Warnings: Fluff, implied smut, swearing

Length: 2100 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female Reader

Check my masterlist for more!

"I'm a little nervous to meet everybody," you whispered to your boyfriend as you zipped up his jeans. You wiped the corner of your mouth, making sure your lips were clean before climbing onto his lap. You'd gone on four dates with him before he very nervously asked you to be his girlfriend, and since then, for the past month, you'd been so happy.

"Don't be nervous, Sweetheart," he replied, leaning closer to kiss your nose as he cradled you between his body and the steering wheel of his truck. "Everyone is going to like you. What's not to like?"

"Bobby," you said, adjusting his crooked glasses on his nose. "They are a tight knit group. If one of them doesn't like me, none of them are going to like me."

"Well, I like you plenty," he promised, and you turned to look out the window at his friend Jake's house where the Memorial Day party was in full swing in the backyard. "And Nat knows I'm wild about you. She told me she's happy you're coming with me."

You kissed him softly and then opened the door and started to climb down with his help. "I can't believe I get to meet the famous Phoenix."

Bob laughed. "She's larger than life. Hang on tight." 

And you did. You laced your fingers through his and let him lead you around the cute little ranch house and into the cozy backyard. Someone was grilling, there was music playing, and you saw a couple of kids blowing bubbles. But before you could take in anything else, there was a woman with dark hair and wide brown eyes in your face. 

"Bob. She's stunning."

Your boyfriend chuckled and pulled you a little closer. "Sweetheart, this is Nat."

"Oh!" you said brightly. "I've been looking forward to meeting you!"

"Holy shit," Nat replied, just shaking her head. "Good job, Bob. I mean, it's nice to meet you," she said, offering her hand and shaking yours. "Bagman is grilling some burgers, and there are drinks in the cooler."

"You want me to get you something to drink?" Bob asked, pecking you on the cheek. 

When you nodded, you watched Nat drag him away as she whispered, "Fucking hell, Floyd. You could have warned us that your new girlfriend looks like that." 

You rolled your eyes. Nobody usually made much of a fuss over you. When you turned to see what the group of kids was up to, you nearly bumped into a tall man sporting a mustache. Like a pornstar from the 80s. You almost laughed as he said, "Hey, I know we didn't come here together, but how'd you like to leave with me?"

"Excuse me?" you asked, bursting out laughing. "Did you really just say that?"

He shrugged at you, looking very smug. "My name's Bradley. We haven't met before. I'd definitely remember you."

You told him your name, and you were about to add that you came here with Bob, but then your boyfriend strolled back over with two cans of beer. He handed you one and kissed your cheek again.

"Oh, Rooster, this is my girlfriend," Bob said, and you watched Bradley's jaw drop as he looked at you, his eyes dipping down below your neck to the top of your dress as he blushed. 

"Sorry," he muttered, and he fist bumped a confused looking Bob as he walked away. 

"What was that all about?" your boyfriend asked. 

"Nothing," you replied with a smile as you sipped your drink. "Can we get some food? I'm starving, and I need to put something in my mouth right now."

"Really?" Bobby asked, cheeks flushing as he ran his fingers along the back of your hand. "You didn't get your fill in the truck?"

"Bobby!" you gasped, always a little surprised when he said something dirty to you. He was such a gentleman... usually. "I got my fill of you in the truck, but I need to make sure I have energy for later." You winked, and he was practically tripping over himself as he followed you across the patio toward the grill.

And that was where you met Jake. "Hey, pretty lady," he drawled. His accent was southern and cute, but nothing like Bob's, which you'd already gotten used to hearing whispering the sweetest things while he made love to you. 

"Hi," you said carefully as he studied your face. You were already feeling like maybe you didn't get off to the best start here, and the look he was giving you felt like a confirmation. 

"Damn it, Bob," he groaned, turning to look at your boyfriend. "Well done." Then he handed you a burger and told you to help yourself to some potato salad and snacks on the picnic table. 

"I don't think they like me," you told Bob as you dumped some pretzels onto your plate and sighed. 

"They do!" he insisted. "Just give them a chance."

"I'm trying," you promised before you bit into your burger. And thankfully Phoenix came back over and started chatting with you which made you feel a lot better. She asked you about work and told you how good Bob was at his job.

"He always makes sure he keeps everyone safe," she said, looking at Bob with appreciation in her eyes. "He's a great team player."

You smiled at her as Bob blushed. "He told me I could come visit him on base someday," you said as you wrapped your arms around him. "I'd love to see your Super Hornet."

"Bob, you'll have to let her check out your cockpit one day," Nat said with a chuckle. "Maybe she's not familiar with that yet."

"Oh, I'm very familiar with that," you whispered, just for Bob, and his cheeks turned a deeper pink still. 

"Sweetheart," he muttered, and you promised him you'd behave. 

Then someone was reaching for your hand and pulling you away from him. "You're Bob's?" he asked. And before you even answered, he said, "I'm Fanboy. I mean Mickey. Come play horseshoes with me. I'm terrible and nobody else will be my partner."

You waved goodbye to Bob and Phoenix while you laughed and joined the game. "If you're terrible, what makes you think I'd want to be your partner?" you asked as he finally let go of your hand. 

"I'm sure you don't, but I didn't give you a choice. That's Payback and Coyote," Mickey told you, and two more men waved at you. "We're playing against them." 

"Damn," they said in unison before the taller one added, "You're Bob's new girlfriend?"

"Yeah," you said, waving awkwardly. "It's nice to meet you."

"Are you sure you didn't get lost or something?" Jake asked you when he strolled over. "Really? Bob?"

You looked at all the guys and then over to Bob on the patio. "What do you mean?" you asked Jake.

"Don't listen to them," Mickey said loudly, cutting him off and handing you a horseshoe. "They're just jealous."

"Jealous?" you asked, starting to feel sick. They didn't like you. For some reason, you'd done something wrong. You tossed the horseshoe, but it was a terrible throw, and now you were embarrassed. "Can I ask what I did wrong? Because Bobby is so sweet, and I really wanted to make a good impression on his friends."

Mickey's eyes went wide. "You didn't do anything wrong!"

And that's when you heard Payback tell Coyote and Jake, "It's like beauty and the geek. I don't understand how it happend."

"Are they talking about me?" you asked Mickey, and he parted his lips like he was going to say something to you, but he turned to them instead.

"Guys, knock it off."

"I don't understand," you whispered, and finally Mickey showed you some sympathy.

"They all think you're hot. And they can't believe you're dating Bob."

You felt warmth flood your cheeks, and the other horseshoe almost slipped from your fingers. "Oh."

"Seriously, just ignore them," Mickey said, shooting the others a nasty look. "I like you. Everyone likes you. Let's play horseshoes."

So you played for a little bit as his words started to sink in. It just didn't make any sense. Bob was every bit as handsome as the rest of them. And he was sweet. Even sweeter than Mickey, who was currently trying to include you in the conversation. And Bob was so funny; last night he had you laughing so hard you had hiccups. 

Not to mention, Bob gave you the best sex of your life. Sure, you hadn't been intimate with him for more than a few weeks, but he was very attentive. He gave you everything you asked for. 

"Hey, Sweetheart," he said and you turned to see him strolling up to you. Your heart skipped a beat, and you wanted to kiss him until his glasses steamed up. 

"Bobby," you whispered, handing the horseshoes to Bradley so you could give him a proper hug. 

"You having fun?" he asked, rubbing his hands in soothing circles on your back. 

"Yes. Mickey and Phoenix are really nice. And the rest of them... I think they must grow on you over time?"

Bob started laughing and said, "You're not wrong."

"Hey, Four-Eyes, you and your girl want dessert?" Bradley asked, tossing one of the horseshoes up in the air and catching it.

"Um, y-yes," Bob said, clearly flustered now. 

"Four-Eyes?" you asked, scoffing at him. Were they making you feel a little awkward because they thought Bob was nerdy? "Wait, are you making fun of Bobby?"

At least Bradley had the decency to look a little embarrassed as you glared at him. "Yeah," he answered quietly.

"You think he's a nerd?" you asked the other guys, gesturing at Bob. 

Bradley shrugged. "Yeah, kinda." Jake, Coyote and Payback all looked like they wanted to agree.

You looked up at your boyfriend, and you could tell he was still embarrassed. He could barely meet your eyes as you pressed your palm against his chest. Then you could feel a smile creep across your face as you made sure you were loud enough for everyone to hear. "I think he's a stud." Then you kissed him hard in front of everyone, and sure his glasses were crooked when you were done, but you liked that about him.

"You do?" Bob asked softly. "A stud?"

You nodded up at him as you fixed his glasses. "You wanna leave, Bobby? I keep thinking about sucking your cock in the truck like I did earlier. I'm dying to feel your big dick down my throat again."

Jake let out a little strangled noise, and Bradley dropped a horseshoe on his own foot. Now the other guys were gaping at Bob, and they seemed to stand a little taller in his presence, suddenly impressed. 

Bob licked his lips and stared at you, completely entranced as you kissed his cheek. "Yeah. You know what, I think we should head out," he managed, his voice a little hoarse as he tightened his grip on you. 

"You're leaving?" Nat asked, walking over with a slice of cake. 

"Apparently Bob isn't as innocent as we thought," Hangman drawled, looking at your boyfriend with new appreciation. 

"It was nice to meet everyone," you told them, lacing your fingers through Bob's. "I'm going to go take care of Bobby. But maybe next time we can stay for dessert?"

"Make Bob bring you to the Hard Deck on Friday!" Nat called after you as you led him away. "I need more estrogen in my life!"

"Will you take me to the Hard Deck on Friday?" you asked him sweetly. 

"I'll take you anywhere you want, Sweetheart," he replied, still looking at you like he couldn't believe you were his.

You turned to wave and said, "See you on Friday!"

And then Bob pulled you close as he led you back toward his truck. "You didn't have to say all that stuff in front of them and call me a...stud. I'm used to them picking on me a little bit for being nerdy and having glasses and everything. I mean, I know it's true, Sweetheart."

You just laughed and shook your head at him. "Come here, stud." You pushed him up against the side of his truck and kissed him, slipping your tongue between his lips and tasting him. You rubbed yourself gently against the front of him and whispered, "Do I look like I deserve anything less than the sexiest, sweetest boyfriend?"

He swallowed hard and grunted, "No."

"That's what I thought. Now get in the truck, Bobby. I have something I want to show you."

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

Bob is a stud. Just try to argue with me about that fact. Thanks to @bradshawsbitch and @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls!

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Valentines with Jake Seresin 💞💞

I.R.I.S // Jake Seresin

Summary: When Jake Deadman Seresin spilled some drinks on you at the Hard Deck, the last thing he thought would come of that would be an entanglement that could ruin his entire career.

Warnings: Age Gap. Jake Seresin x Younger!Mitchell Reader. Smut! (18+ Content) Bradley Bradshaw x Platonic!Mitchell reader.

Chapter One: Hangman Head // Jake gets a blowie in the car park after he spills his beer on you, only to find out he’s your TopGun Instructor.

Chapter Two: Locker Room Meltdown // Jake has an existential crisis in the men’s locker room.

Chapter Three: Shower Sex // You and Jake come to an agreement that ends up with you both caving and getting into more trouble in a spare shower stall.

Chapter Four: Backyard Brodown Barbecue // After being lured into your bedroom to receive some of the best head of his life. Jake is subjected to your mischievous ways around your dad and uncles.

Jake Gets Distracted

Chapter Five: Premeditated Murder // You send Jake a risque picture of yourself while he is sitting in the Rec room with your dad.

Chapter Six: hiding In Plain Sight // After a confrontation turned sour which turned into you giving Hangman head under your dads desk, you overhear something you probably shouldn’t.

Pre Flight fight

Chapter Seven: H_ngm_n’s Sleep T // Mav goes to investigate why you haven’t gotten out of bed on a morning you have to be on base at 8am. Only to discover you’re wearing a certain someone’s shirt.

Chapter Eight: Lunchtime Lovers // When Jake finds out you quit the TopGun program, he goes to your house—only then does he realise he forgot his lunch.

Are Iris & Deadman exclusive?

Chapter Nine: The Mitchell Effect // You and Jake make things a little more official and Jake confirms his suspicions. He’s addicted the the thrill of being found out.

so it goes... ; jake "hangman" seresin

"met you in a bar, all eyes on me, your illusionist . . . all eyes on us."

so it goes . . . - taylor swift

warnings: pwp, dom/sub dynamics, begging, praise, rivals to lovers, misogyny from external characters, SA, angst, smut. very cheesy ending. not proofread. 18+ MDNI.

a/n: i honestly don't know where the plot came from this was supposed to be straight smut if i'm honest <3 there's no description of the character, I just find y/n and 2nd person extremely corny when writing

word count: 7.6k

-

It was absolutely no secret that Ivy hated Lt. Jake “Hangman” Seresin; from the moment they met and he gave her his signature “I’ll make your panties drop” smirk, she was ringing the bell on him more times than most people could count. On nights the pilots went to the Hard Deck with him, some didn’t even bring their wallets, knowing that they would be getting drunk on his dime. It never stopped him though. Their playful rivalry was seemingly never ending, but both knew that if Ivy put her foot down and told him to stop, he would, no questions asked. It started as her ignoring his advances and trying to continue serving him normally before it eventually turned into her pouring everyone else shots but him, purposefully leaving him for last then leaving Penny to serve him before going on break. After he learned her tricks and waited for Penny to go on break before approaching the bar, that’s when the bell ringing began. She was no stranger to the bell - oftentimes men would start making comments about her when she turned around, leading to the group of aviators (often led by Jake himself) to surround the man and herd him out of the bar.

The first time she rang the bell on Jake, he had leaned his elbow onto the bar, his cellphone slipping out of his jacket pocket and onto the wood. Ivy all but lunged for the bell, causing a roar of cheers to erupt around the bar. The Lieutenant rolled his eyes and placed his card on the counter; it was the first time he had ever seen her smile at him, even if it was dripping with sarcasm as she swiped the card on her kiosk, opening a tab before turning around and grabbing three bottles of tequila to begin pouring out. A few times after that, she served him without a fight, but on the night he forgot his card at the bar after picking up four shots in his hands with a “thanks, sweetcheeks,” she called out his last name. The whole bar nearly fell silent as they watched the girl yell to him that he forgot something. He slowly turned around, making sure to not spill any alcohol, only to see her fake reaching into her coat, pulling out a middle finger instead before dropping to hold his card up.

This Saturday in particular was busy - the Fourth of July festivities were in full swing, bringing people, both regulars and newcomers, from all over San Diego to the Hard Deck. Ivy and Penny were so swamped that they had to keep telling the other “I’ll go on break later, when it gets less busy.” Ivy’s UCLA shirt was wet from sweat and from the bottle of top shelf vodka she had accidentally spilled on herself while she kneeled on a barstool trying to reach them. Her hair was pulled back into a claw clip, baby hairs plastered to her forehead and neck from sweat. The AC was never able to cool down the room with the constant opening and closing of the door, the whole room heavy with humidity. Penny and her took turns “getting more ice” from the freezer which was just code for standing there with the door open to cool down.

The night officially won the award for worst shift ever when she had been flagged down by a table of newcomers as she was finishing cleaning off a table. They ordered a round of beers and vodka sodas to be delivered, handing her a heavy tip to compensate her for leaving her post at the bar. When she returned with the Miller Lites in hand the group twisted their caps off with their shirts, but the one to her right let the cap fall to the floor, making it seem like an accident. When she squatted down to pick up the trash, the one to her left landed his hand to her ass and squeezed. Ivy shot up, an angry gasp leaving her throat, and, without thinking, grabbed one of the vodka sodas off the table and threw it into his face and swung her tray into his side full force. The scrape of the chairs from all of the men getting up caught the attention of the Top Gun pilots who were engrossed in their game of dirty pool. Ivy realized her mistake in attacking a person who was about half a foot taller than her who had 4 more people for backup. She took a small step back, but bumped into a strong chest. Scared it was a 6th member of the group, she quickly turned around, instead seeing Hangman standing there, backed by Fritz, Fanboy, and Coyote, with a few others approaching. Her view of him and the other pilots didn’t last long, as she was yanked by her hair to the space behind the group of men, hitting her head on the corner of the table and falling over one of the chairs as she went down.

There were strict rules on fighting in the academy, but there was an unspoken agreement amongst the group that the tale of this fight wouldn’t make it out of the room. There were some situations that only violence could fix. So, that’s how each of the group of men ended up with their heads similarly banged up and on the gravel outside. Other than the scuffle that was happening, no one made a noise - newcomers watched, aghast, and regulars stood by on the ready. If Ivy didn’t have blood pouring into her eye from her cut, she would’ve seen said regulars standing in pairs near any exits to stop any men who dared to make a run for it from escaping.

Phoenix had her hands placed under Ivy’s arms, helping her up and to the bathroom. She helped Ivy run her head under the faucet, the clear water turning crimson as it went down the drain. After a few minutes, and with her eye flushed clean, Phoenix helped her up from her near-upside down position under the faucet to standing up, the water droplets making the blood still producing from her cut make its way down her face even faster. When she looked down at her shirt, a drop of blood fell and dotted the “i” on the BRUINS written on her shirt in gold. Phoenix helped her apply pressure to her cut while she turned to look at herself in the mirror. Her hair was nearly falling out of the clip, her shirt collar darkened still from the sweat and vodka from earlier, now accompanied by the water and blood. She was paler than usual and the brown paper towels held to her head were darkening, “When I said I wanted to get more up close and personal with medicine, this is not what I meant.”

“What better way to succeed as a premed student than to experience everything you learn about firsthand?” Natalie led her over to the stool they kept in the bar bathroom for tipsy girls to sit on while their friends did their business. Hygienic? No. But appreciated by patrons? Yes. “I should check your eyes, see if you have-” She was cut off by a knock on the door. When Phoenix asked who it was, her hands still on her friend’s shoulders to make sure she stayed upright, she received a response that Phoenix had been expecting since the sound of the fight outside had subsided.

“It’s me,” Hangman’s voice was undeniable. Ivy’s gaze shot up, looking between her friend and the door, silently begging her not to leave her. Phoenix gave her an awkward smile before standing up and unlocking the door, letting him in. He pushed past his fellow aviator, coming to a kneel on one knee in front of the stool Ivy was sitting on, putting his hand behind her neck to keep her in place as he checked her for any harm aside from the obvious.

Ivy swallowed hard, not sure what to say, opting to keep their rivalry going because she wasn’t sure how to even go about thanking him, “You did good for being the same height as them.”

Jake normally would have laughed and said something along the lines of, “It’s my ego that did the heavy lifting,” but seeing the paper towels soaked with blood had his mind far away from banter and cemented in the moment at hand.

The silence was eating at Ivy’s ears, causing more words to spill from her to keep it at bay, “At least respond to the momentarily blinded girl.”

His jaw tightened for a moment, “How the fuck are you joking right now?”

She shifted uncomfortably beneath his gaze, “Come on, it’s not that big of a deal. It’s just a cut. It’s only bleeding so much because it’s on my temple. At least it’s an excuse to get me out of the rest of this God awful shift.”

“What were you thinking? Starting a fight with someone like that - he could’ve smashed a glass in your face.”

Ivy scoffed, slapping away his hands with her free one, “Oh, so I’m supposed to just let whoever waltzes into this bar grab a handful of my ass? I’ll keep that in mind for the next shift. Might show up naked.”

He let out a breath through his nose. He wasn’t positive about what happened prior to Ivy’s retaliation, but he knew it was most likely something along those lines, but hearing her confirm it just made his blood boil even more, “No! You get someone and let them take care of it, not hit them with a plastic tray.”

Ivy pulled away from him again as he applied pressure to her wound, “I’m not a fucking child. I’m going to stand up for myself. I’m not going to hide behind some man. You can’t seriously be blaming me for this!”

“That’s not what I’m saying! I’m-” He was cut off by Phoenix saying his name sharply. Her eyes met his before flickering down to Ivy, a cue for him to focus on the real problem.

He stood, pulling a few more paper towels from the dispenser. Phoenix pulled the trash can away from the door and closer to Jake, allowing him to dispose of the bloody wad before dabbing at the cut on her temple with the towels he had run under the water. It was silent as he ran his thumbs across her head and through her hair, checking how far back the cut went. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but you need to go to the ER in case you have a concussion.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa - absolutely not, Seresin. I have much bigger problems on my plate right now than a possible concussion. One of my summer classes ends next week and I have 5 more shifts after this. I’m going home and sleeping this off.” She stood up, annoyed at his belief that he could tell her what to do. When he went to protest her refusal, he found himself lunging to help balance her as she wobbled after standing. He and Phoenix each had an arm and helped her back to the seat. He looked over Ivy’s head and mouthed for Natalie to go get her a bottle of water and something to eat before handing her his truck keys for her to bring it around. She took the chance to leave the tension filled room with pleasure and almost flew out the room. From the pressure he had applied earlier, the bleeding had mostly stopped.

“After that attempt to walk, I’m taking you to the ER. If you don’t have a concussion, then I’ll take the blame. If you do, I’ll never forgive myself for letting you sleep on it. That’s final.”

Ivy rolled her eyes, “Fine. But We’re taking my car, not your ecological disaster of a vehicle.”

He helped her up and had an arm around her shoulders to keep her steady. His size dwarfed her, his large hands wrapping around her upper arms easily. “Your car’s so small that I’m going to have to drive from your backseat.”

“You seem like the type to be a backseat driver, so I guess all your training’s paid off.”

He did his best to hide her from the crowded bar, and she kept her gaze down. The night air was cooling down, the breeze from the sea sweeping across the island. Fireworks popped in the distance. Ivy dug in her pockets for her car keys, lighting up her small prius at the back of the lot. Jake knew her car, as he often was volun-told to walk her back to it after the Hard Deck closed, so he could tell something was off when he saw the interior light on. The two walked a little faster, Ivy mentally scolding herself for not checking if she had properly shut the door when she locked her work bag in the backseat. The crunch beneath their feet that sounded different from the rocks that made up the rest of the parking lot made the pair look down, Ivy taking her phone out to turn on the flashlight. It was glass. Car window glass - Ivy’s car window glass.

The sound of Phoenix calling for them in confusion made them turn around, seeing her jogging to them, his keys dangling in the air as she held them up, “I thought you guys were taking Hangman’s?”

Jake delicately thrusted her back into her friend’s arms, “We definitely are now. Take her to my truck.”

Phoenix looked confused before looking past the pair and seeing the broken window, immediately taking Ivy and leading her back towards the front of the parking lot. She opened the passenger door to the F350, helping her step in before shutting it and getting in the driver’s seat, allowing her better vantage to see anyone trying to approach.

Jake reached through the broken back window and unlocked the car, ducking his head down to be able to kneel on the seat, a few pieces of glass digging into his knee. Her backseat was strewn with clothes that were clearly from the bag that had been emptied. There was a tilt to the car, telling him that one of her tires was slashed. The contents of her glove compartment were strewn about the front seat. He circled the car, trying to find something that had identified her to the group of men - there, on the inside of her windshield, was a UCLA parking pass. He took pictures of everything, intending to get a list of everything that was missing once she was medically cleared. When he switched places with Phoenix, he threw his phone in the cup holder.

Two 400mg Ibuprofens, multiple butterfly bandages, and confirmation of a mild concussion later, Jake had opted to show her the photos on the drive back to her house after practically forcing a pair of sunglasses onto her face. She zoomed in and out of the photos, trying to identify anything that was missing. Ivy felt her face flush with embarrassment as she realized the item that was gone; she couldn’t help the burning feeling in her throat or the tears that pricked at her eyes. Her new silence made Jake glance over to the passenger seat. Her hand was quick to wipe away the tear that escaped, but was nowhere near fast enough to not be seen by him.

“What? What is it?”

“I- I, um,” She swallowed, her voice breaking every time she went to speak. “They, uh . . . they took my underwear from my bag. It’s the only thing missing.”

Ivy may have been the one with blood in her eyes, but Jake saw red in that moment. He vowed at that moment to track them down and make them regret ever making Ivy feel unsafe. The rest of the drive was silent; Ivy pulled her knees to her chest, her eyes staring vacantly out the windshield as she gave him directions. Her driveway was empty, despite the house being advertised for rent for 2 people. She’d had a roommate for the first 3 weeks of the summer, but the girl fell homesick and moved back to Maine, opting to pay the rent and be with her family than pay it and be alone. Ivy was absentmindedly picking at her nails, the polish chipping off in tiny bits of purple, when Jake pulled into her driveway. The truck was silent, save for the AC running on max. Ivy still didn’t look his way, too scared to see any pity in his eyes, “I- um, I don’t know how else to thank you than just saying it.”

His response was immediate, “Don’t.”

She reached her hand back and pulled the claw clip from her very tangled hair, allowing her to run her hands through it and give an excuse as to why she wasn’t looking at him. “No, really. You didn’t have to do any of this. And I was a dick to you when you were just trying to help. I know that I shouldn’t have done it - that I should’ve just . . . let someone else handle it or kick them out or something. But I’ve lived my whole life being afraid, being forced to ignore the way men act around women - around girls. I’ve carried pepper spray for longer than I’ve carried a house key. For fuck’s sake, I can’t get into my car without having to check the backseat with my flashlight because I’ve read too many stories about girls in this country getting murdered. I’m a bartender, and I’m too scared to drink alcohol in public because I’m afraid someone will roofie me. I just - I wanted at least one man, just one, to understand that women aren’t their toys. I wanted someone to understand there are consequences to their actions. And, well, look where it got me.” She held her hands up, “Mildly concussed and prius-less. Even with their heads knocked into tables, they still had to violate me in the most disgusting way. Touching me wasn’t enough because they felt like they were owed it. They went out of their way to find which car was mine and left everything but the one thing they knew would make me feel sick to my stomach. Hell, even now, I’m scared to be in my house. I didn’t have a key that they could’ve stolen in my car, but there’s so many ways they can break into my house. And the fact that it’s not even insane for me to think that they tracked down my house is so disheartening, because stuff like that happens all the time. It’s just - so exhausting being a woman, I wanted to be able to say I did something to protect myself. And I’m sorry for dumping this all on you, and I know you’ll never fully understand, but I need you to know I didn’t do it because I’m stupid or something. I needed to do it for me.”

Hangman was silent. Ivy expected that. If someone spilled their guts out to them like she just did to him, she also would be silent. Her thumbnail was bare at this point.

She opened the passenger side door before climbing down, giving him a small, brokenhearted smile after she took his glasses off and placed them in the cupholder. “Thanks again. Drive safe.”

She cringed at the sound of the door shutting, her brain pounding in response. Once she made it to the door, she struggled to find her house key, the limited light from the streetlamps making it hard to identify. She was too scared to use her flashlight; the nurse at the urgent care was adamant about reducing light hitting her eyes. Her struggle was stopped by a hand, making her jerk back and drop her keys, stumbling back a bit, scared it was one of the men. When she tilted her head up and saw Jake instead, her worry disappeared, but her heart was still hammering. She rested her forehead against the doorframe to catch her breath before she dropped to pick up her keys. “Jesus Christ, don’t do that.”

“I’m sorry.” Those words made her look up at him as she rose back up. They way he said it was more than just an apology for scaring her. It was an apology for everything she had confessed back in his truck, an acknowledgement that he would never understand, but he would try his best to - an apology for the way he acted towards her, even if both knew it was never really serious. A promise he would be there to back her up. He pulled her into a hug, cradling her head against his shoulder, making sure her cut was facing outward instead of against this uniform shirt. Her throat was tight once again, a few more tears escaping. She didn’t wrap her arms around him, but both knew it was because she was just too tired to do so. “Do you want me to stay? I’ll crash on the couch.”

She nodded against this chest, too scared to talk, not trusting her voice.

He took the keys from her hands, unlocking the door. He made sure to keep her behind him on the way up to her bathroom connected to her room, where they split off and he searched the rest of the house while she cleaned up; he left to get a bag of emergency clothes he kept in his backseat. Once he heard the water shut off, he made his way back to her, seeing her emerge with new bandages and a set of oversized sweats. In silence, she showed him the way to work her shower, not noticing the way he was staring at her rather than her hands.

When he left the shower, he opened the door to the sight of her asleep on top of her bedsheets. He walked over, taking the blanket that was folded at the corner of her bed for decoration and covered her with it before leaving a crack in the door and making his way downstairs.

-

The next few days passed by in a blur. Jake spent the nights he wasn’t required to stay on base crashing on Ivy’s couch - and eventually her bed. Ivy finished her summer class and got so black out drunk in her living room that she fell asleep sitting next to him, her head falling onto his shoulder. On top of driving her to and from the shifts he could, he took her back and forth between the mechanic, standing behind her with his feet planted and arms crossed, his face stoic, to ensure that the workers there wouldn’t upcharge her simply because she didn’t know any better.

The third or fourth time he had fallen asleep in her bed, he woke up when he normally did: before the sun. Even when he wasn’t required to be at the base, his sleep schedule was punctual - he couldn’t sleep in if he tried. The streetlights were still lit, but soon to disappear. The sky wasn’t pitch black anymore, more of a purple with a thin sliver of yellow very close to the horizon. He was shirtless, a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He was on his back, his arm wrapped around her, pulling her onto his chest. He could hear her breathing in and out, deep in sleep despite his awakeness. Her TV was in sleep mode, the DirectTV logo bouncing around the screen from when they paused My Cousin Vinny the previous night because he made her laugh so hard she couldn’t breathe. They spent the rest of the night talking, leaving the TV paused, too engrossed in each other.

He directed his gaze down to her, taking in the light ring of yellow from the slowly disappearing bruise on her head and around her eye. The bruises across her thighs from where she fell over the chair on the way down had a little longer to go in the healing process due to their size, but they were getting there. He tightened his hold around her, making her stir before she tucked her head further against his chest.

-

Ivy was dizzy with the way he was kissing her, like he was sucking all the air out her lungs while simultaneously being the reason she was able to breathe. Every touch of their lips was euphoric and she could feel herself slowly slipping away from the present into a place that only the two of them occupied. She had never been more thankful for Maine being on the other side of the country than now. His hands were under her shirt; his calloused thumbs were rubbing her stomach while the other fingers splayed across her back. He was also keeping her hips from rolling against his from her spot on his lap. His mouth attacked her neck, leaving her gasping as she buried her hands in his hair.

“Oh, yes - Jake,” her words were almost whiny with need, her hands switching to run down his torso to the bottom of his shirt and tug. “Need you. Need you inside me.”

He leaned back against her headboard, his stupid smirk on his face again. His right hand came up to cup her chin and bring her to make eye contact with him, “Oh, sweetheart, I gotta get you ready first.”

He hadn’t even touched her and her brattiness that coaxed every conversation along was already diffusing from her, “No! No - I can take it. Please.” Without his hand to hold her in place she took her chance and rolled her hips against him, her flimsy sleep shorts allowing her friction against his clothed cock. She was willing to try anything, so the words fell from her mouth without her brain okaying them, “Please, lieutenant.”

Her grip on her chin tightened, his eyes darkening and his smirk dropped. Ivy’s heartbeat picked up as she saw his face change, but before she could react, he was flipping them over, leaving her back to the mattress and him using his forearms to hold his hover over her. Her hips bucked of their own accord at his display of strength, her thighs pressing together for friction. His gaze flickered down before using his knees to push her legs apart, keeping her from having any relief that wasn’t delivered by him.

“Say it again,” He commanded. His pupils were so blown out that the blue of his eyes was almost invisible.

“P-pleas-” A sharp smack to the side of her ass made her gasp, his hand rubbing it slowly to soothe it before coming up to push a piece of hair out her face.

“Now, sweet girl, say it like you just did. All needy-like.” 

She did as he told. He went back on his haunches, looking down at her splayed beneath him, running his fingers so lightly up the sides of her legs that she squirmed from the ticklish feeling. His fingertips ghosted under her shirt again, his eyes silently looking up to her for confirmation. She nodded quickly, helping him rid her of the shirt. His quickly followed, leaving him in nothing but his sweatpants. He groaned at the sight of her breasts; there was no reason for her to sleep in a bra, leaving her fully naked up top once her shirt was gone. He slowly ran his hands up her sides, his thumbs ghosting over her ribs before landing under her boobs. The feeling of him palming at her tits was driving Ivy crazy; her whimpers were filling the room as he leaned down to kiss and suck at them. Her back shot up in an arch when his teeth grazed her left nipple before his tongue came down to soothe the pain, repeating his actions on each breast before Ivy was practically crying from need. Her hands were grabbing onto any part of him she could reach - his hair was already a disheveled mess and his shoulders and biceps were littered with crescent moons from her nails. Both of their necks and upper chests were already starting to bruise.

“J-Jake, please. Please touch me, fuck me, anything! Or let me suck you off, I just need you so fucking bad.” He was taking pictures of her in his mind right now. She was so frazzled and the most he had done was kiss her tits. He swore that if a breeze came by she would fall over the edge.

He kissed the apples of her cheeks before looking back down at her, “I told you, I gotta get you ready for me. Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Is it as big as your fucking ego, lieutenant?” She thought maybe being bratty again would get her what she wanted. “Having a big ego doesn’t make up for dick size.”

At that, his fingertips tugged her shorts down, taking her panties with them. He didn’t give her a moment to prepare before he was diving down, her thighs on his shoulders and his hands holding her hips down, eating her out like it was his last meal. She let out a scream when his tongue circled around her clit. Her back arched and her hands flew to his hair, wrapping in his blonde. He groaned into her cunt, making her moan out his name. He pulled back, lowering one thumb to pull her pussy apart. Her wetness gleamed in the morning sun that was shining through the window, her hole clenching around nothing. He looked up to her, his tongue running across his bottom lip, “Ask me to continue.”

She threw her head back onto the pillow breathlessly, a frustrated, needy “fuck you,” coming out before she adjusted her hips as best she could with his other hand still holding her down, trying her best to give him a better view of her pussy. “Please, please, lieutenant Seresin, eat me out ‘til I cum on your face so I can be ready to take your cock. You know what’s best for my pussy.”

He definitely was not expecting that to come out of her mouth - he was expecting a “please continue,” not something that made his dick harden even more than he thought was physically possible. “You want me to continue? To help you finish?”

Her head was nodding so much she thought she was going to reconcuss herself.

“How can I deny my sweet girl when she asks so nicely?” He lifted his hand to tap on her lips which she immediately parted to suck on his fingers. She moaned around them, thinking about the possibility of them inside of her. Her dreams came true when he pulled them out, a string of spit connecting them to her mouth before it broke. Jake lowered his hand and pushed two fingers inside of her. Her gasp was loud enough to alert anyone else in the house as to what was going on had anyone been there. Her fingers grasped the sheets below her, twisting them in her fists. Her whole body shuddered when he added his mouth, leaning down to suck on her clit again. Her ears were ringing, preventing her from hearing how loud she was, but that volume was spurring Jake on more. He switched from sucking to blowing to spelling his name on her clit. When he added a third finger and curled them inside of her, she fell apart. Her vision went white, her throat almost raw with how loud she was being. Her eyes were in the back of her head. Her hands went to run through his hair to pull him off from her sensitive core, but he grabbed her wrists in his free hand, pinning them to her stomach as he continued to ride her through her orgasm before bringing her to another. Her legs were shaking, her hips bucking, thighs tightening around his ears to try and escape his mouth and fingers. After her second orgasm, he relented, pulling away at her strangled “Jake, I-I can’t.”

She looked up at him as he removed himself from between her legs, keeping eye contact with her as he slipped his fingers from her pussy and sucked her cum off of them, groaning around them. “Baby, it’s a shame I’ve never tasted your cunt before. Fucking delicious. Gonna have to deploy me to keep me away.”

Her already unbrushed hair was even crazier from the way she was writhing under him, but he found her as intriguing as ever. Her lips were plump from their kissing and her biting; her cheeks were flushed. He once again tucked a piece of hair away from her face, wrapping his hand around her neck to pull her into a kiss, his thumb rubbing against her jaw as the coldness from his dog tags made her shiver as they passed over her bare chest, leaving goosebumps in their wake and leaving her nipples hard. He smirked against her lips as he heard her gasp at the metal. He leaned back once more to slip his tags off of his chest, slipping them over her head, letting them rest in between her tits. His thumbs passed over each nipple, breathing out a “perfect” as he watched her slightly arch her back at the touch, giving him a full view of his tags sitting perfectly at home in her valley. He never wanted to be discharged from the service so badly just so he could see that everyday instead of having to take them back later.

After his few moments of admiring her, he began to kiss from her sternum down to pussy again.

“I-I don’t know if I can handle an orgasm like that again,” she admitted, making him give one last kiss under her belly button.

“Oh sweet girl, that was just the start. I told you, I was getting you ready.”

Her gaze snapped back to him, abandoning the hole they were burning into the ceiling. Jake started to slide his sweats off, showing his lack of underwear under them. When they were far enough down, his cock sprung up, finally escaping. He finished riding himself of his pants before taking her hand delicately and pulling it to her mouth. “Spit.” Once again, she did as he told without question, eyes following her own hand as she sat up. He led her hand down to wrap around his dick, her thumb and middle finger not touching as she wrapped her hand around it. She slowly began to jerk him off, rubbing her thumb over his slit to spread the precum around. He threw his head back as she worked him, “Fuck.”

“Fuck my mouth lieutenant, please.” Her mouth dropped open as she began to move forward. His hand dropped to her shoulder to stop her. She looked up at him through her lashes, making his dick twitch in her hand.

“As much as I want to fuck your mouth, the only thing I’m fucking right now is that sweet pussy of yours.”

Her eyes widened a little, her eyes flickering between his eyes and his dick that she was still slowly stroking. “I don’t  . . . I don’t think that will fit in me.”

That stupid smirk was back. He cupped her cheek, using his other hand to stop her motions on his cock and guided her down on her back. “I thought ego’s didn’t make up for dick size? Isn’t that what you said baby? But it’s okay, this pussy was made for me, of course it’ll fit.”

She nodded, trusting him, but didn’t say anything.

“Do you wanna do this? Just say the word and we stop, no questions asked.”

“Yes! Yes, yes I want this. I trust you.”

His jaw clenched at those words, determined to make this everything she wanted. It was already everything he wanted. He wasn’t expecting this, honest - the two of them just thought it’d be easier for him to stay there that night since he promised to bring her to her shift that afternoon. Never did he think it’d end with her calling him lieutenant in a way that wasn’t designed to ignore him. He wasn’t prepared for her glossy eyes that looked at him like he created the universe.

He lined himself up, his face hovering above hers as his weight rested on his left forearm. He looked at her for confirmation once more, her bottom lip between her lips as she nodded. He pushed the tip in, his head dropping to rest in her neck. He groaned into her ear as he went in, her sharp whine filling his senses as she clawed into his shoulder blades. He pushed in a little more, her nails scraping down his back. She let out a low moan paired with her cry of, “Fuck yes, Jake. Feels so good. So big. Filling me up so good.”

He couldn’t help the small laugh that came out of him despite the absolute euphoria he was feeling being in her. He ran a hand over her hair before pulling himself out of her neck where he was busying himself with giving her another bruise. “It’s not all the way in yet, baby.”

Ivy’s eyes widened again, “How much left could there possibly be?”

He responded by pushing all the way in. She swallowed hard as she felt him hit a place inside her that had never been touched before. He watched as a small bulge protruded at the bottom of her stomach. He led her hand to rest over it - once again leading her hand to feel his dick, but this time through her own body. He pulled out before slowly pushing back in, “You feel that, sweet girl? That’s me. That’s how deep I am in you. I told you, this pussy was made for me.”

After a few more thrusts of letting her feel the way he moved inside of her, once again rendering her speechless, he leaned down to capture her lips again before picking up his pace. He broke the kiss but only to lift one of her legs to rest on his shoulder, his lips pressing a kiss to the inside of her ankle. The bed posts were hitting the wall so hard her nightstands were shaking just like her legs were. Her hands were once more locked in the sheets, her eyes rolling back with every thrust. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck - yes,” she couldn’t stop the few tears that rolled down her cheeks. He was enamored with the way she looked - naked, beautiful, his tags jingling every once and a while when he gave a particularly hard thrust. He was using her leg as leverage to fuck her even harder.

“That’s it baby, come on, you’re doing so well for me. You heard? You’re my good girl.”

She let out a moaned sob that was interrupted by a particularly hard thrust, “Yes, lieutenant, wanna be y’good girl.”

He cooed at her, “Look at you, can’t even talk right cause I’m fucking you so well. If you wanna be my best girl, show me what you cumming around my cock would feel like.”

She reached her hand down to rub her clit, but he swiped her hand away, placing it back on the bulge that was protruding, pushing down on her hand so that she was pushing down on it. It was like a damn had broken, her entire body seized up, tightening every muscle as he continued to thrust home, watching her eyes disappear behind her eyelids, her mouth opened in a shattered moan of his name mixed with “yes”es and “thank you”s. He had to hold her leg to keep it from shaking off of his shoulder. The way she was squeezing him was enough for him to feel his own high approaching.

He gently let her leg down, planning to pull out and cum into his shirt that he had discarded, but Ivy clearly had different plans. Her hands grabbed her tits, massaging them together. “Make me pretty, lieutenant. Please, please, make me pretty. Wanna be covered in you.”

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me.” But he couldn’t deny he wanted to see it too. He stroked himself a couple of times, looking at her fucked out state beneath him, her tongue out to catch anything that made it that far. With a groan as she begged him once more for his cum, he finished onto her torso. Ropes of his cum covered from her lower belly to a few drops on her tongue. Most of it landed on her tits, and by proxy, his tags. She made sure to keep eye contact with him as she lifted the metal and licked his cum off of them, humming as she did so. She dipped a finger in cum on her chest, dipping it into her mouth as she moaned around her own finger at the taste of him. “So good, lieutenant, You made me so pretty. Only you can make me pretty like this.”

He dove back in for another kiss which started heated, but eventually turned deeper, both of them trying to show the other how much they enjoyed what just happened. When she pulled away for air, he kissed the tear tracks on her cheeks and climbed off the bed, picking her up and leading her to the bathroom. He sat her on the edge of the bathtub as he started to fill it up, not trusting her legs to keep her upright while they showered. While it was filling, the sound of the running water and the intense orgasms had her in a dreamy state, her head resting on the arm he was using to keep her up. Once the water was high enough and hot enough, he helped her get in and sit down, cupping his hand to take some water, directing her to swish it and spit it out so that her mouth wasn’t a desert anymore.

“Get in,” her sleepy voice let out.

He kissed her forehead, “Gotta make sure you’re taken care of first. Come back to Earth with me, sweet girl.” He continued to coax her out of the haze she was in, bringing her back to coherent thinking.

He then cupped the hot water over her shoulders before standing and climbing in behind her. It was awkward for him due to his size, but eventually they were able to settle into a comfortable state. Jake continued to cup water over her shoulders, making sure to keep her warm, massaging her shoulders and thighs every once and a while to release any tension as he soaped her body. When he finished washing her hair, he noticed how limp she was. Looking down, he was met with her asleep figure. Sensing that was her body trying to tell him she wanted her bed, he finished washing himself before waking her up and getting her out, wrapping her in a towel and sitting her in her chair in the corner. He wrapped his own towel around his waist, stripping the sheets and having her direct him to where there was another set. He made the bed as she was cuddled up in the towel, her hair dripping beads of water down her shoulders.

Jake pulled himself back into his sweat bottoms, foregoing the shirt for now, rubbing the water out his hair with the towel before disposing of it with their clothes heap. He helped her into a standing position, grabbing a pair of underwear for her to change into, turning away as she did so.

“It’s not like you haven’t seen everything.” She let out a laugh that turned into a yawn.

He turned back once he heard the drawers close, but instead of seeing her in one of her oversized sleep shirts he was so accustomed to, he instead saw her in the white Hanes t-shirt she had nearly torn off his body earlier. He couldn’t help the way his eyes traced her figure - wet hair, no pants, his shirt, sleepy smile. She went to give his tags back, but he shook his head, “Not yet.”

“Come on,” she nodded towards the bed, getting into one side as he got into the other. He reached over and pulled her into his chest, placing a kiss on the top of her wet hair, his fingers absentmindedly scratching up and down her bicep. She listened to his heartbeat as she reached her hand out to intertwine with his fingers. “I said ‘fuck me’ not ‘ruin any man for me ever again.’”

She felt his chest rise with the laugh he let out. “Oh sweet girl, if another man who isn’t me touches you, I’ll kill him.”

She hummed a laugh, sitting up on her elbows, one eyebrow raised, “Lieutenant Seresin, is this you asking me out?”

“Though that was clear, baby,” She leaned down to kiss him before laying back onto his chest; his thumb rubbed over her arm again. “But two things.”

“Yes?”

“One: if you call me lieutenant, you can’t be upset if I try to jump your bones immediately. Two: don’t call me Seresin unless you plan on letting me call you Mrs. Seresin.”

Ivy bit her lip to stop her laugh, “Yes, sir, lieutenant Seresin.”

Almost like me but I cried till I fell asleep

Hi love ur writing so much ❤️❤️❤️

I was wondering if you could do ❛ hold still. this might sting a little. ❜ with Mr Jake Seresin and the kiddos?

Anywho, you deserve all those followers

Ur writing is amazing ⭐️

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Shy!Wifey and Alex Seresin warnings: blood, tears, Jake can't handle his kids getting hurt. Opposites Attract Masterlist | Hagman Masterlist Main Masterlist 3 fucking K celebration

It was a beautiful Saturday morning. The sun wasn't up high in the sky yet, making it bearable to be outside. Alex and Ella had woken their parents up early, even before their baby brother Eli could cry to be picked up from his nursery. Jake had pushed the older kids quickly so they didn't wake up Y/N or Eli. He took them downstairs and started on breakfast. Saturday Mornings equaled blueberry pancakes in the Seresin house.

Jake had also determined that today was the day that he took the training wheels off of Alex's bike. He was about Alex's age when he learned how to ride a bike, and could remember his father teaching him in the driveway over their house.

A frown graced Jake's lips as he wished that he could've grown up in a neighborhood like he lived in now. The were the only house for miles on their land in Texas, and the childhood years were lonely. Jake never wanted to grow up like that. He loved the cul-de-sac they were living in now. Alex and Ella had friends on all sides of them, and kids were constantly running around. It made Jake smile.

Currently, Y/N was sitting on a blanket in the front yard, covered in the morning shade of their house. Eli was laying on his tummy in front of her, while Ella was playing with her dolls. Jake was taking the training wheels off of Alex's bike, while the little boy put his helmet on.

"You ready?" Jake asked, as the took the last wheel off, "A big kid bike now!"

"I think so daddy," Alex nodded. Jake set the bike on the ground and looked at Alex, making sure his helmet is tight.

"Alright, let's go to the sidewalk since the driveway is at a bit of a slope," Jake said, and Alex grabbed his handle bars, walking the bike down to the sidewalk.

"Mommy, when can my training wheels come off?" Ella asked.

"Anytime you want them too," Y/N said, "Do you want them off?"

"Maybe," Ella said, looking at her brother. Even though they were roughly three years a part, Ella and Alex were competitive. The little girl tried her hardest to keep up with her older brother. Y/N smiled as Ella set her barbies down and intently watched as Alex got on his bike, and Jake steadied him.

"Okay buddy," Jake said, "Put your feet on the pedals, and one at a time, push them down."

"Okay," Alex let out a shaky breath as he slowly pushed down on the pedal, making the wheels spin. Jake easily pushed him, keeping one hand on the handlebars and the other on the back of the bike to keep him steady.

"Keep pedaling buddy," Jake said, walking a bit faster.

"Okay daddy," Alex nodded.

"A bit faster, you got it," Jake looked at his son getting the hang of the skill, "There ya go, buddy."

"Don't let go, daddy! Don't let go!" Alex said.

"I'm not," Jake said, even though he started lifting his hands off the bike. Y/N smiled as she sat up on her knees, watching as Alex and Jake went down the sidewalk. Ella's eyes grew wide as she saw her dad take his hands completely off of Alex's bike.

"Don't let go! Don't let go!" Alex said over and over as he pedaled his bike.

"You got it buddy! You're doing it!" Jake said as he stood behind his son, watching him ride his bike, "Good job!"

Alex went to look over his shoulder at his dad, but clearly wasn't ready for that skill. Jake could see the accident happening before it even did, as Alex became wobbly on his bike and fell over.

"Fuck!" Jake cursed and ran down the sidewalk towards the little boy. Y/N gasped as she heard the loud cry fill the air. She picked up Eli in her arms, moving towards the sidewalk to see Jake lifting his oldest boy into his arms.

If there was one thing Jake hated more in life than his leftovers being eaten, it's seeing his babies get hurt. He tried to fight back tears as he felt Alex's tears soak his shirt. He looked down at Alex's knee and could see that the skin was red and scrapped up. Ella wrapped her arms around Y/N's middle, not liking to see her big brother cry either.

"He's okay, baby," Y/N said, rubbing her daughter's back. Jake didn't even bother to pick up the bike as he walked back down to the house with Alex in his arms.

"Come on, Elles," Y/N took her daughter's hand and went inside going to her and Jake's room.

Jake had Alex sitting on the bathroom counter in-between the two sinks. Tears were still falling down his face as Y/N walked in. She put Eli in his playpen and Ella was in the playroom with him. Alex immediately reached out for his mom. Y/N embraced her son, pulling him into her chest as she climbed up on the bathroom counter to sit next to him.

"I told him not to let go," Alex mumbled against his mother's dress, "I told you not to let go, daddy!" He said to Jake.

"I know baby," Jake said, grabbing the first aid kit, "I'm sorry. I thought you had it."

"I don't want to learn to ride a bike," Alex pouted and Y/N rubbed his back.

"Okay, you don't have to," Jake said. Y/N could see the look in her husband's eye, and knew how much he hated blood. He was trying to put on a brave face but was feeling queasy by the sight of blood running down Alex's leg.

"Jake, how about I clean it?" Y/N asked and Jake nodded quickly. She tried to stifle her laugh as they switched spots and Y/N grabbed some gauze and anti-biotic cleanser.

"Hold still," Jake said, wrapping his arm around Alex's small body, "This might sting a little." Y/N knelt down in front of her son, and gently cleaned up the blood that was down his leg up to the scrape. Alex sucked in a breath as the peroxide settled into his skin. The second that Y/N pressed a cotton ball to his knee he jumped.

"It's okay," Y/N cooed, "I know it hurts but I gotta get in clean, okay."

"C-can I have a superman band aid?" Alex asked and Y/N nodded. Y/N looked up at her husband who was looking away from the sight of blood and trying not to cry seeing his little boy in pain. Y/N shook her head and finished cleaning up the wound and putting a superman band aid on it.

"All better," Y/N said and placed a kiss on the band aid. She stood up and helped Alex off the counter, "How about you go down stairs and I'll get you a snack?" Alex nodded and took off running downstairs.

"I feel like that's worse for me than it is him," Jake sighed out.

"It'll always be like that," Y/N said and stepped in between Jake's thighs. Jake rested his hands on her hips, "We're parents. We never want to see our kids in pain. It'll never get easier to see them in pain."

"Well it's a good thing they have you," Jake said, "Cause I was starting to get a bit woozy."

"Oh I know," Y/N laughed, "You're good with the vomit and the snot. We balance each other out."

"What would I do without you?" Jake asked and pecked his wife's lips.

"Be on the ground passed out," Y/N smiled and kissed her husband again.

Top Gun: Maverick imagine ideas:

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Fem! Aviator!

Call sign: Rampage

Rooster and Rampage haven't seen eachother in sixteen years since he cut her out of his life, and she never knew why. Until he gets tired of hiding and confesses not only his feelings, but who made him push you away and why.

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Fem! Single mom!

You met Bradley at the Hard Deck, and you know he's a good man, but once your babysitter brings your son to work, you think it's over. Who would want a woman with a kid? Turns out, he's found you even more beautiful and stronger than ever.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem! Mitchell! Aviator!

Call sign: Vulture

Your dad didn't want you on this mission, but you were asked and are determined to stay. Only thing bothering you is Hangman, who thinks it's just a game of flirting until an accident makes him realize that it's much more than that. But your dad isn't going to let his little girl go so easily, especially when it comes to Hangman.

_

_

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Comment which one you guys would like to see, or request your own! Requests are always open!

When I'm Done With You [Bob Floyd x Reader]

Gif cred: @delopsia 

A Bob Floyd frat AU

Summary: At a fraternity mixer, you lose your (admittedly shitty) boyfriend in the crowd. That’s when Bob Floyd, president of Alpha Tau and your boyfriend’s personal nemesis, finds you and decides to make you his. 

Pairing: Bob Floyd x reader 

Warnings: Cursing, fraternities, SMUT, gambling

WC: 5.5K

A/N: This was entirely written because of the new Lew frat photos. I have no self control. We are sluts in this household for Lewis Pullman.

“Say it,” he demanded. Bob’s eyes were dark, his fingers rough against the delicate skin of your chin as he tipped your gaze toward his. 

His voice was low and hoarse and it forced a crop of goosebumps up and down your bare arms, and the exposed flesh of your thighs. 

“Say it,” Bob repeated and you squeezed your legs together, mouth hanging open as he slipped a thumb inside, pad of his finger pressing down softly against your wet tongue. You instinctively closed your lips around the digit, sucking loudly, and Bob’s blue eyes grew darker. 

He removed his thumb, sliding the saliva over your cheek as his hand gripped the back of your neck tightly. The beat of the music in the house mixed with your rapid heartbeat and you were pulsating from the inside out. 

Bob stood, waiting, his long hair falling into his eyes as he looked down at you condescendingly, the popped collar of his button down shirt nudging against the curling edges. 

“Fuck me, daddy,” you whispered and his lips pulled back in a smirk. A Cheshire Cat grin. 

“Beg.” 

“Please fuck me, daddy,” you moaned, stepping closer, brushing your body against him, desperate for his touch. 

“Tell me who you belong to,” he said. 

“You.” 

“That’s right,” Bob said and you couldn’t help but lean forward, your pelvis aching for him even though you had no idea what he would feel like inside of you. All you knew in that moment was how all-consuming the idea of Bob fucking you was. “You belong to me. Not him, me. You’re all mine.” 

You nodded weakly and Bob leaned down, ghosting his lips over yours. 

“When I’m done with you,” he whispered, “tell your boyfriend I say hi.” 

*One Day Before*

“Get in, we’re going to be late.” 

You sighed, sliding across the hot leather seat as Seth reached over and yanked the door shut before dropping the Jeep into gear and peeling off before you could even get your seatbelt on. “Fuck,” you groaned. “Relax, we’re like two minutes early still.” 

“Would be earlier if you could learn how to read a clock.” 

You rolled your eyes and turned to look out the window. Campus flew by as Seth skidded down the road before pulling over in front of the Sigma Chi house. “It’s just a stupid meeting,” you said as he shoved the car into park. 

Seth’s eyes burned as he turned to you. “I’m the president, Y/N. How would it look if the president didn’t show up on time?” 

“You’re the president of a fraternity,” you huffed, dropping down onto the gravel driveway and slamming the door shut, “not the president of the United States.” 

Seth tossed a dirty look over his shoulder as he jogged up the stairs, pulling open the double wood doors to reveal the house’s imposing front room. At the far end, directly within your sight, was a stone fireplace so tall you could stand under it, like a medieval ballroom. Or maybe it was the long hallway of framed composite photographs of former fraternity council members lining the walls that gave off the castle vibes. Either way, you always noticed a chill in the air the moment you entered the Sigma Chi house, even on a sweltering day. 

Today was no different. 

Seth strode through the wide room toward the staircase. “Babe!” he called out. “I’ll be back in thirty.” 

You nodded but he had already rounded the corner, descending the stairs to the basement. You shivered at the thought, instead shaking your head and making your way across the room toward the door at the far end which led out to the side yard where a small garden with chairs sat facing both the back and the road in front of the house. 

Sometimes, especially on a day like today, you wondered why you were with Seth at all. It wasn’t the fraternity thing. Some girls swooned over frat guys. But the parties, once you stripped away the veneer of loud music and dark lighting, were more disgusting than you could ever imagine. And only someone who had witnessed the space first-hand the day after, drinking coffee while watching pledges scrub vomit and caked in dirt and rivulets of beer from the wooden floors, could attest to that fact. 

It wasn’t that he was particularly charming or nice. It wasn’t that he was all together handsome, although you supposed he was decently good in bed. 

Perhaps it was the fact that you just didn’t want to be alone. Being with Seth was the perfect amount of commitment. He was busy half of the week with fraternity business, and there was always somewhere to go on the weekends. 

He was a safety blanket. 

You sat perched on an adirondack chair, a pair of sunglasses slipped over your eyes, turning your head when you heard a few voices coming from near the front of the house. Squinting, you spotted a gaggle of guys walking down the sidewalk. They weren’t stopping, so they definitely weren’t Sigma Chi. 

Upon closer inspection, you recognized a few of them. Namely, Bob Floyd. President of Alpha Tau. 

And Seth’s personal rival. 

The two of them had gone head-to-head in more ways than you could count. In the economics department last semester for a research fellowship. 

Bob had won. 

At the spring fraternity wrestling contest. 

Seth had somehow beaten Bob, but only after several rounds of close calls on both sides. 

Seth had made it crystal clear that Bob Floyd was not someone you were allowed to speak to. So when Bob stopped, his gaze locked on yours, your breath caught in your throat. You opened your mouth, as if to call out to him, but words died in your throat. He lifted up his sunglasses and winked, before taking off down the road, falling seamlessly back into conversation with his friends as if nothing had even happened. 

You couldn’t explain why. But you felt your pulse quicken, an ache developing in your pelvis. You shook your head. 

Bob Floyd was the very last person who should make you feel this way. 

***

You turned in the mirror, examining your short dress. “Are you sure this looks OK?”

Annie nodded from where she sat on your bed. “You look perfect. Going to make those frat boys lose their minds.” 

You rolled your eyes and smoothed your hands over the silky fabric, adjusting the skinny straps. “Are the shoes too much?” You wiggled your ankles and the stilettos you had on. 

“You know you’re fifteen times hotter than Seth, right?” Annie said and you looked up with a gasp. “Oh, don’t give me that. He’s kind of a tool and we both know it.”

Annie had been your roommate for two years and she’d seen everything unfold with Seth. From the first time the two of you met at a party to the first time he broke your heart and you took him back. 

To say she wasn’t a fan was an understatement. 

You leaned down, filling your purse. “You should come tonight,” you said. “It could be fun.” 

“Absolutely not.” Annie jumped up and strode to the door. “But call me when shit hits the fan, OK? I’ll come pick you up.” 

You smiled. “Love you.” 

Once she was gone, you looked at your reflection in the mirror one more time. A part of you was dreading tonight. The annual frat mixer, where fraternity brothers from all of the different chapters mingled together on Greek Row. Tonight’s party was going to be hosted by two neighboring houses: the Delta Kappa Epsilons and the Alpha Taus. 

You grabbed your purse and headed for the front door, calling an Uber. Seth had claimed he was too busy to swing by and pick you up for the party. 

Just to torture him, before you left you reached down, slipping off your black thong and flinging it into the corner pile of laundry. You pulled out your phone and texted Seth. 

See you in a few, you wrote. PS — I’m not wearing any underwear. 

***

By the time you got to Greek Row, you could feel a bubble of anxiety building in your chest. Events like this always made you tense up. Before Seth, you hadn’t stepped foot near a fraternity. It still wasn’t your vibe, but you had become somewhat acclimated to Greek life. 

You pulled out your phone after stepping out of the Uber. No text. Sighing, you made your way down the sidewalk toward the DKE house.

It was already bustling, and through the large glass windows at the front you could see people already filling up the house, the lights turned down, the music turned all the way up. 

Stepping up to the door, it swung open before you could even knock. The boy in a bow tie and jacket smiled at you. “Come on in.” He recognized you. That was one thing: you were Seth Landon’s girl. You were untouchable. There was almost a secret club, the girlfriends of fraternity presidents. You were protected and watched. 

Wandering through the rooms of the house, your eyes flitted around for Seth. Everywhere you looked there were couples and stray frat guys, drinking and vaping. It felt oddly civil, considering some of them were mortal enemies. 

You made it through the whole house with no sign of Seth and no text. He hadn’t even read your original message. He was the only person you knew under the age of forty with read receipt on. 

Sighing, you filed out of the house and down the stairs, shaking your head and making your way over to the Alpha Tau house. Their house was darker, all wooden beams and imposing brass knocker. Again, the door swung open before you could reach up to knock, another frat lackey recognizing you and letting you in. 

“Have you seen Seth Landon?” you asked. 

He shook his head. “Sorry. Check the back, I know a poker game is starting up.” 

You groaned. If there was one thing you knew was Seth’s downfall, it was gambling. He’d bet on anything. 

Slowly, this house was more crowded than the DKE one, you stumbled down the halls toward the back. At one point the crowd was too thick, and you cut over through a small hallway near the staircase. You stopped, back to the wall, looking down at your phone, checking again for a message, when an arm came out, hand pressed against the wall behind your head. 

You looked up. 

Bob Floyd stared down at you. Unlike most of the other guys, he had foregone a blazer. Instead, he wore a blue button up with the collar popped, a pair of khakis molded against his round ass, a needlepoint belt holding in his trim waist. He had a large silver watch on the wrist of the arm next to your head and his blue eyes bore into yours. “Lost, baby girl?” he asked, his voice thick. 

You narrowed your eyes. “No. And I’m not your baby girl.” 

His free hand rubbed against his mouth and you watched as the veins in his hands and forearms buldged. When he pulled it away, his lips pulled back in a wide grin. “Trust me, I know. You’re Seth Landon’s girl.”

“If you know that, why are you here?” you whispered. “He’d kill you if he saw you talking to me.” 

Bob leaned in closer until he was practically caging you against the wall. “I’m not scared of that jackass,” he said. 

Your eyes met his. Bob ran his tongue over his pink lower lip. You didn’t even care to look around and see if others had spotted you and Bob in the narrow hallway. For some reason, standing there with Bob, not touching, was the singular hottest thing you had experienced in months, maybe years. 

He leaned down, tracing your jaw with one finger and you found yourself mewling at his touch. He grinned. “Sensitive, aren’t you?” 

Your eyes went wide as you remembered where you were. Who you were with. More specifically, who you weren’t with. Your boyfriend. 

Bob took a step back, lifting his hand from your face, but the ghost of his touch lingered. He slipped his hand into his pants pocket, tilting his head to the left. “Landon’s that way,” he murmured. 

You nodded, hiking your purse higher onto your shoulder, your legs like gelatine beneath you. 

“Baby girl?” he asked. “Come find me when you’re done with that tool. I’ll be upstairs, second floor.” 

And then he disappeared, out through the end of the narrow hallway. The minute Bob turned around the corner, air rushed back into your lungs. You pressed one hand to your chest and found that you were trembling. 

A couple burst through the door at the end of the hall and you jerked your head, watching as they flitted past you. You took a deep breath, pushing yourself off of the wall and heading toward the back of the house and the poker session the guy at the door had told you about. 

It was little surprise that you found Seth sitting at a legitimate poker table, green felt top littered with chips and cards, Seth’s tanned face pinched as he examined the cards in his hands. He tossed in a stack of red chips and let out a grunt when the dealer dropped a two of hearts on the table as the last of five cards. “Fuck!” he said, tossing in his cards. “I’m out.” He looked up and spotted you. “Hey baby, come here.” 

You stepped forward and he pulled you onto his lap. His thigh was angular and uncomfortable, his hands were too warm, bordering on sweaty, and he smelled like a pack of Marlboros. “You were supposed to wait for me,” you complained. 

His face darkened. “I was busy, Y/N. I have responsibilities.” He looked at the table before nudging you off of him with one hand. “Gotta finish this round, babe. Grab a drink, I’ll come find you.” 

“I want to leave,” you said, arms crossed over your chest. 

Seth didn’t even look up. “We’re not going.” The five other guys at the table looked up with grins. One let out a low whistle. 

You held your ground. “You didn’t even pick me up. You made me chase you through both houses. I’m tired of this.” 

“Then leave,” Seth said, his eyes never deviating from the cards in front of his face. 

You were seething. The air was thick and tense around the card table as everyone waited for your response. You shrugged. “Fine. Fuck you, Seth.” 

Another low whistle. A few heads turned. Seth still refused to face you. “You’re being childish, Y/N,” he said calmly. “Have a beer, chill out. I’ll find you after the game.” 

“No,  you won’t,” you hissed. “Have a good life.” You peered over his shoulder and then at the cards on the table. “By the way, he’s got a busted straight.”

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. He tossed his cards down in fury, eyes blazing. “What the fuck!” 

But you were already halfway out the door, trailing down the darkened hallway, toward the staircase. You sucked in a breath and climbed the wooden stairs, your heart pounding. 

All you knew was that you had to find Bob. Your anger was making your head spin. You turned at the top of the stairs, looking both ways before peering out over the railing, legs shaking. After two years, you thought there would be tears. At least some kind of sadness. But you felt nothing for Seth. 

Only anger. 

You swiveled around, starting down one dark hallway. Everywhere you looked it was wood paneled. Imposing. Borderline threatening. You wandered all the way down the hallway, passing a slew of closed doors, before finding a door at the end of the hallway that was ajar, warm light seeping in through the crack. 

Softly, you nudged it open to reveal Bob Floyd standing in front of a massive fireplace, one forearm resting against the mantle which held a large framed frat composite from that year’s class. 

And even though your steps were silent, he heard you. “How did I know you’d come looking for me?” he said before turning around, pushing the sleeves of his shirt up and crossing his arms over his broad chest. 

You lingered by the doorway. Stepping inside further would only seal your fate. 

Bob’s gaze never left you. Several moments passed, just the two of you in the study, before you finally stepped forward, closing the door behind you. 

You had just signed away Seth in a single movement. 

Bob crossed the expanse of the room in a few long strides. For perhaps the first time you looked at him, really looked at him. You had spent so long avoiding Bob because of Seth’s hatred toward him. But somewhere deep down you knew why Seth hated him so much. Because Bob was better. Smarter, smoother, more charming. He was everything Seth wanted to be and couldn’t. 

He walked you backward until your back was pressed against the supple leather arm of a dimpled couch that sat in front of the wide wooden hearth. You felt the clammy coolness of the leather stick to your bare skin. 

“What do you want?” he asked, voice slow. Deliberate. “Tell me what you want.” 

You shook your head, denying him. It felt good. For the first time in a long time you were striking out on your own. Seth couldn’t put you down or keep you boxed in. 

Bob didn’t want to hold you back. He didn’t want to tame you. What you didn’t know was that while you had been avoiding him, he had been seeking you out. Watching as you made your way through the dining hall, eyes combing the long tables for Seth, glazing over him entirely. What you hadn’t seen was the way Bob’s body pulsated when you were closer, like an alarm that only he could hear. 

You had decided five minutes ago that you wanted Bob. He had decided two years ago that he was going to make you his. 

“Say it,” he demanded. 

You parted your mouth, letting him slip his thick thumb against your tongue as you tasted him, sucking greedily. He slid his finger out from your puckered mouth, across your face, grabbing your neck, drawing you closer. 

What you thought was condescension crossed his eyes. But it was lust. It was pure, unadulterated lust and excitement. 

“Fuck me, daddy,” you murmurred and Bob grinned. He hardened in his khakis as you begged him. 

Bob reached down, sliding one arm around your waist, pulling you in tightly as his lips descended on yours, ravishing you, moving off of your mouth onto your neck as you cried out in pleasure, his fingertips squeezing your waist, desperate for you. Before you could even moan his name, Bob spun you around until your hands came out to hold you up from against the couch as he pressed, hard, on your back, sending you curled, face-down, onto the dark leather. 

He sank to his knees, shoving up the short hem of your dress, practically combusting when he saw you were naked beneath it. 

“Fuck,” he grunted, pulling out a hand and smacking your round ass cheek, hard. You cried out. “Do you want more?” he asked and even though he was rough, you knew that he would stop if you wanted him to. 

You buried your head against the cool leather. “Yes, daddy.” 

Bob pulled his hand back, landing it again on your soft skin, eliciting a groan from you as you instinctively wiggled away, digging your bare core against the curved arm of the couch. He lurched forward, pressing his soft lips to your ass cheek, nipping at the flesh softly as his hand nudged your knees further apart until you were spread wide for him. “Good girl,” he murmured, tracing his hands over your bare thighs. “Now tell me what you want.” 

“You.” It came out broken but Bob knew exactly what you meant. His hands migrated up your thighs until his thumbs were spreading you apart, your slick juices already starting to drip down his digits as he shoved his face between your legs, tongue nudging your entrance as you gasped against the couch. “Oh!” 

Bob pressed forward, his tongue coming out to lick your folds as his fingers gripped you tightly, holding your trembling legs apart. “Be still,” he commanded as you whined against the couch before reaching up and pressing one thick finger into your throbbing cunt, a scream echoing through the room as you adjusted to him. Bob immediately began to thrust his finger in and out of your tight pussy before pulling out entirely. 

Just as you were about to whine at the loss of contact, you felt his hands on your waist, dragging you up and spinning you around. Bob dropped back down to his knees, pushing your dress up to your hips, yanking you forward until you were teetering on the edge of the couch arm. 

“Come here,” he whispered gruffly and your head fell back in a moan as Bob licked up your folds, tongue dancing along the nub of your clit instantly. 

“Oh, fuck!” 

“That’s it,” he murmured, sucking your clit harshly before driving two fingers this time into your squelching pussy. “Fuck yes.” Bob curled his fingers inside of you, your spongy walls gripping him tightly as his tongue slid in tight circles around your clit until you were wiggling, whining, moaning above him, your legs shaking where you stood with your stilettos pressed against the ground. 

“Bob!” 

His name on your lips set Bob on fire. He pressed inside of you deeper, sucking tightly on your clit until you were coming on his fingers and face, screaming his name. 

Bob drove you into overstimulation, unable to tear himself away from between your legs until your fingers were threading themselves into his long hair, a string of begs falling from your lips. “Please, please, please, fuck it’s too much.” Finally, he lifted his head, mouth slick with your juices, rubbing at his lips with the back of his hand. You remained on the edge of the couch arm, legs spread open, pussy on display, as Bob stood, wrapping one hand around your neck. “Always knew you’d like my mouth on your pussy,” he murmured and you blushed. 

Before you could object, Bob had his arm around your waist, tugging down your dress, hand on your hips, guiding you toward the door. You looked back at him over your shoulder and he nodded reassuringly. 

“My room’s across the hall,” he said, voice low. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk.” 

And then the two of you were locked in his bedroom. It was a near clone of the room you had just been in, but with a bed against the far wall instead of a couch and fireplace. 

You turned to face Bob. His eyes watched you carefully.

Bob reached out, both hands grabbing your waist, dragging you closer until the two of you were only millimeters apart. “Bob?” He raised an eyebrow. “Are you doing this just because of how much you hate Seth?” 

“Are you?” 

You didn’t know. So instead you trailed your hands down to his belt and Bob’s eyes widened, but he remained silent. 

Silent as you unfastened his belt, fingers reaching for his zippered fly, feeling how hard he was already beneath his khakis. 

Silent as you eased his pants down his legs, kneeling at his feet, coming face-to-face with his barely covered cock as he bulged against the tight fabric of his boxers. 

Silent as you yanked the waistband of his boxer briefs down, gasping as his long, thick cock sprang to attention, practically hitting you in the face. You hesitated. “Are you going to suck my cock, baby?” he asked mockingly. 

To Bob’s surprise you leaned forward, one hand reaching out and cupping the base of his cock, your mouth immediately surrounding his length until you could feel the tip of him bashing against your throat as you choked on him. 

“Fuck,” Bob murmurred, fingers grabbing your hair, yanking you backward. You looked up at him expectantly and he almost growled. “Suck me good,” he whispered, “and I’ll fuck you like the little slut I know you think you are.” 

You moaned, licking your lips before diving back in, bobbing up and down along his length, using your hands to grip his base, twisting up and down as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking him in. 

Above you, Bob closed his eyes, using his hands to surround your head as he fucked into your face, causing you to moan and pushing saliva out of your mouth down the edges of your lips, tears springing to your eyes as he pushed his cock further into your throat and you gagged. “Taking me so well,” he murmured, looking down at you at his feet. “Fuck, look at you. A fucking mess.”

You whimpered on his length and Bob drove himself faster into your mouth, both hands pressed against your scalp as he thrust his hips toward your face, your nose buried in his pubic hair until he could feel himself coming undone. 

“Shit, fuck, yes!” he cried as he shot thick ropes of cum into the back of your throat, spilling down your throat and filling your mouth, seeping out the corners as he looked down, thrusting one last time into your mouth until you were gagging around him, mouth full. 

He pulled out of you and you swallowed harshly. Bob reached out and dragged the pad of his thumb beneath your eyes, wiping away the tears that had gathered there. He reached out a hand, helping you to your feet. 

“Take off your clothes.” It was a demand, not a request. You shed your dress quickly, stepping out of it and standing naked in front of Bob. 

His eyes slowly worked their way down, from the top of your head to your feet in the stilettos. 

“Shoes.” 

You kicked them off. Bob pushed away his pants, slowly beginning to unbutton his shirt, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt desire bubble up inside of you as he shrugged out of his shirt, dropping it onto the ground, reaching out and laying you back onto the bed. 

Bob suctioned his lips to your neck, slotting himself between your legs, your ankles crossing over behind his perfect ass and you could feel him, hard again, against your inner thigh as you rolled your hips up toward him. 

He kissed down the column of your throat, landing on your breast, sucking the nipple between his teeth as you whimpered. 

“So fucking desperate,” he muttered. “It’s like you’ve never been fucked before. Landon probably has a tiny dick, doesn’t he? Never made you feel anything.” 

“Don’t talk about him,” you groaned, trying not to lose your focus as Bob skimmed his hips against yours, dragging his fat cock over your folds as you clutched his arms. “Shut up and fuck me.” 

Bob pulled back, eyes hard. “Did you just tell me to shut up?” 

“Yes?” 

He reached out one hand, cupping your jaw gently. “Baby, I'm only going to tell you once. In here, you’re mine, you understand? You do what I say, unless you want out.” 

You throbbed between your legs. “Yes daddy.” 

He nodded. “Good girl. Now get on your knees and face the headboard.” 

You did as you were told. Bob positioned himself between you, fingers raking down your back from your shoulders to your waist before dipping down and circling your clit. You let out a sharp whine as he spread your folds apart, nudging your legs wider, settling behind you. There was the distinct sound of a condom wrapper being ripped open and then you felt Bob nudge at your entrance. 

Bob leaned forward, pushing the thick head of his cock inside of you, and you moaned. He kissed your back along your spine as he slid deeper inside your tight cunt, stretching you open. Bob reached down, grabbing your waist, forcing himself in further until he let out a deep moan as he pressed the last inch inside, filling you completely, threatening to break you apart. 

You whimpered as he pulled back, slamming his hips forward, filling you to the breaking point. “Bob!” 

“Right here baby girl,” he mumbled. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” 

You let out a sharp cry as he pounded into you. Bob’s large hands pulled you upright, one arm wrapped around your chest, hand firmly holding your breast. 

“Look up,” he demanded and when you did your eyes widened. Above the headboard was a large mirror. You watched as Bob’s eyes followed yours while he fucked up into you from behind, his free hand reaching down and toying with your cunt. 

You moaned, shutting your eyes, and Bob slapped your clit harshly. 

“Open your eyes,” he commanded and you did as you were told. “Watch me while I fuck you.”  

You watched, mouth open, as Bob filled you repeatedly, his moans filling your ear as he panted, fingers squeezing your nipple, thumb digging into your clit in sharp circles as he thrust into you. “I’m going to come,” you groaned and Bob’s eyes practically rolled into the back of his head as you shuddered around him. 

You slumped back against him and Bob laid you down gently onto the bed before reaching down and digging your head into the mattress, one hand on the back of your head as he sped up his hips, plunging his thick cock into you as you screamed for him, legs shaking from the remnants of your orgasm. “Fuck!” he shouted, pulling out of you and rolling you over, ripping off the condom and pumping his length twice before shooting more cum all over your bare tits, letting it drip off of his softening cock onto your drenched cunt as you laid beneath him, trembling. 

Bob tossed the condom out, reaching down and scooping up the white cum from your stomach. He held out his finger near your mouth and instinctively you opened it, letting him push the spend against your tongue. He groaned watching you swallow, tits covered in sticky semen. 

“If you want to clean up,” he said, tilting his head toward the bathroom. 

When you returned, you frowned. “What is that?” 

“A shirt.” Bob stood, holding it out and helping you pull it on. It fell to mid-thigh and he slowly buttoned the two middle buttons. 

“What about my dress?” you murmured. 

“You don’t need it for what I have planned,” Bob said, pulling you down onto his lap, his fingers tight against your neck. 

***

The next morning, you woke up sore and exhausted. 

Bob lent you a jacket and the two of you descended the stairs with his jacket draped over your shoulders. On the first floor of the house, pledges were scrubbing the floors and the walls, cleaning up empty beer cans, and mopping the kitchen. 

Bob’s hand was warm on your waist as he guided you through the house. “Let me drive you home,” he murmured and you nodded. 

Once he pulled his Range Rover up to your apartment, you jumped out and to your surprise, Bob got out too, crossing around the front of the car, closing the door behind you. He opened his mouth just as the two of you heard a voice from over your shoulder. 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” 

Seth stood up from where he had been half asleep on your front stoop. His tanned face was pinched and red. Instinctively, Bob reached out, half hiding you behind him, one hand protectively on your waist. 

“Get your hands off my girl right fucking now, Floyd,” Seth seethed, “or I will punch your lights out.” 

“Would love to see you try, asshole.” 

Seth stepped forward but Bob still had four inches on him. He was angry and practically buzzing whereas Bob was calm and cool. 

Seth peered around Bob the best he could. 

“Where the fuck were you?” he demanded. “With him? You fucking whore.” 

Bob’s fist came out so fast you didn’t even have time to think. One second the three of you were standing in the early morning sun and the next minute Seth was on the grass, writhing in pain, blood spurting out of his nose as Bob shook out his hand. 

“Fuck! What the fuck dude?” 

“Don’t speak to her like that.” Bob’s voice was eerily level. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go fuck your girlfriend for the fifth time this morning.” 

He grabbed your hand, pulling you toward your apartment, the two of you stepping directly over Seth’s prostrate body. 

Bob waited for you to open the door to your apartment before shutting it tight and locking it, swiveling you around until your back was pressed against the door. His dark eyes bore into yours. “You’re mine now,” he whispered gruffly. 

You nodded. You were his.

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The Younger Kind Part 25 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley doesn't know how he will be able to function if Meredith wins custody. As Noah cries in the courtroom, he whishes he would have done more to ensure this never happened. But when he watches you, terrified but supporting him anyway, he knows what he really needed this whole time was you. 

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4100 words

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

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

The courtroom was freezing cold. Your blazer was scratchy against your arms, and Noah was already crying. As soon as Bradley had to hand his son over to the court appointed counselor, Noah's tears started flowing. And now you were seated in the front row, right behind Bradley, but you couldn't slide down the bench to get to Noah. You couldn't even look at the back of Bradley's head for too long without feeling like it was suspicious. 

So you sat there and listened to Noah softly ask for his dad over and over again while Judge Greene listed everyone who was present today. When your name was called, Meredith and her lawyer both turned back to look at you with identical sneers.

Stay strong. Stay strong. You kept telling yourself you would handle this, but you didn't even have to do anything yet, and you already felt ready to fold. But the soft sobbing from Noah and the fact that Meredith hadn't looked at her son once kept you motivated. 

Both lawyers gave statements which were largely identical, each one claiming their client would be the better option to raise Noah. But you noticed that while Bradley was fighting for zero visitation rights for Meredith, she was doing the opposite. She seemed willing to have Bradley visit with Noah if she won today. And that made you nervous, because even to your untrained ears, it sounded like she was more flexible than him. She also made it clear she was going to fight for financial support. 

"Lieutenant Bradshaw, please stand and give your statement," Judge Greene commanded. You had listened last night at Bradley's kitchen table while he read over his personal statement with Tracy, but hearing his deep, raspy voice shake now had you squeezing your hands to keep calm. 

"My son turned four on April twelfth. For every single one of his birthdays, I have been the only parent involved in his life. If something needs to be done for him, I do it. I pay for everything. I care for him in every way. He only knows me," Bradley said, taking a deep breath. "His mother abandoned us. Both of us. And I know he's sitting right behind me and listening to everything I'm saying. And I can hear him crying, which is making it really hard to stand here right now. But I also know he has no idea who his biological mom is. I do not think it would be in his best interest to remove him from his home and the parent who loves him."

When Meredith stood to give her statement, you could tell she felt defensive. It was rolling off of her in waves. Her voice was harsh as she tried to make claims that you just couldn't believe. "Bradley has kept my son from me. For years I've tried reaching out to him, and I'm lucky to even get a response. So the idea that I could have abandoned them is preposterous. He never asked me for money, so I never gave it. Had he asked, I would have been more than happy to help provide. But along with that, changes in my lifestyle have meant that I'm ready to take full control of my son's custody. As his mother. And I'm more than willing to work with a court appointed counselor to ensure that visitation rights would be granted. I'm being more than fair. A mother is better equipped to care for her child than a father."

You were shivering in the cold room now, and while Bradley's posture had only incrementally changed, you could tell he was angry. But Tracy looked completely relaxed. How could that be? Meredith was a fucking liar! And Noah was whining for his dad! And nothing that was going on in this room was fair or just. 

The lawyers were going back and forth like a verbal wrestling match now. It was impressive. Mesmerizing. When one of them seemed to have the upper hand, the other made a swift comeback. The only problem was, Meredith was being made to sound like a saint. You couldn't understand why Tracy wasn't going for the kill right now. The sooner this was over, the sooner you and Bradley could take Noah back to his house and let things go back to normal. The three of you eating dinner together would help Noah forget about his tears. You wanted your boys to pretend today never happened.

You watched Meredith's profile as she sat there, completely aloof when Judge Greene called the counselor and Noah up toward the bench. Noah pulled his hand away and ran right for Bradley, tears in his eyes again. 

"It's okay, Bub," he soothed, dropping down from his chair to kneel in front of his son. "It's okay to go with them. It won't even take long."

"I want to go home," Noah hiccupped, looking between you and Bradley, knowing the comfort that one or both of you usually provided him. But none of that came right now. Bradley picked him up and handed him over with a soft kiss on the cheek. Noah wailed as he was carried off to the judge's chambers for some one on one questions with Judge Greene. 

And Meredith sat there like she hadn't a care in the world while Bradley cradled his head in his hands on the table in front of him. Tracy tried to get him to drink some water from her bag, but he wouldn't. You reminded yourself not to look at him too much, and that's when Meredith caught your eye again. She was fighting to try to keep the smirk from her face as she tried to appear serious. You knew what she was probably going to have her lawyer ask you. You knew it was going to be ridiculous. But you didn't like the way she was looking at you like you were the only thing between her and what she wanted. 

When Judge Greene returned empty handed, Bradley scrambled to his feet. "Where's Noah?" he asked, and Tracy was immediately trying to get him to sit down.

"In my chambers, coloring. He's just fine. Now, I'd like to call up some character witnesses."

You waited while three separate people spoke about Meredith like she was sunshine incarnate instead of a woman who left her son behind like he was nothing to her. Then your name was called. You made your way up to the seat near the front, and Meredith's lawyer wasted no time in trying to break you. 

"You're a character witness for Bradley Bradshaw?"

"Yes," you replied, mortified by the way your voice shook. "I am."

"And how do you know him?"

You swallowed hard. "I babysit Noah on occasion." It was the truth, but it felt like a lie. Saying you were just Noah's occasional babysitter was a wholly inadequate representation of what the two of them meant to you. Of how much you loved them. You had to swallow against the sick feeling in your throat.

"Is that all you do when you're watching Noah? Or do you stay? Earn some money by doing things for Lieutenant Bradshaw?"

Cold sweat broke out along your neck and chest, and your eyes shifted to Bradley without warning. He looked irate and red in the face, and you were already embarrassed after less than a minute of questioning. 

"I object!" Tracy called out, waving her hand in the air. "That's hearsay. And irrelevant." 

"Sustained," Judge Greene said calmly, as if there was no reason for you to feel like you were going to vomit right now. "Any further questions?"

But of course Meredith's lawyer had more questions for you. And they were all designed to make you look bad. 

"How did you pay for nursing school? Did Lieutenant Bradshaw offer to give you an outlandish salary to spend time with him? Do you actually have any experience watching a child that age? How are you qualified to spend time with him? What sorts of questionable things did you find in that house?"

You tried to answer each question with calm composure, but soon you felt like you couldn't breathe. Your eyes were burning. You turned to the judge, but she gave you a bland look. You were on your own. So you took a deep breath, determined to finish this even if your voice was shaking again.

"As a nursing student, you must have access to prescription drugs. Do you use them?"

"No!" you said, having had just about enough of this. Bradley was rubbing his hand along his face, barely keeping it together. Tracy was looking at you, eyes pleading with you to hold it together. "I do not steal or use prescription drugs. I'm studying pediatric nursing. I'm more than qualified to take care of Noah."

"Would you be willing to be drug tested?" the other lawyer asked. 

"Absolutely. You want blood? Urine? Hair? Depending on the lab, you could have results by the end of the day." Your jaw was clenched tight. 

"One last question," he said with a smile. "Is it true that you seduced Lieutenant Bradshaw? And that you're pregnant with his child?"

The audible gasp that came from you mirrored Tracy's. Bradley was now gripping the edge of the table in front of him. You were shaking as you said, "I'll take a pregnancy test, too."

You would do it if they made you. But it didn't seem fair. Your relationship with Bradley didn't have anything to do with how he cared for Noah. It didn't have anything to do with how qualified you were to babysit. Tears filled your eyes, but you had promised Tracy you wouldn't cry. You watched through blurry vision as she jumped to her feet and approached your seat. 

"He's badgering the witness with irrelevant questions!" she said, and Judge Greene told the other lawyer to sit down. 

Tracy must have been able to tell you were shaken up, because she asked, "Can we take a short recess?"

"No," Judge Green replied with a sharp shake of her head. "Let's carry on with your questioning."

Tracy took her time walking back to the table and gathering her notes, giving you a moment to catch your breath. Your hands were still shaking when Tracy asked you, "Did Lieutenant Bradshaw ever make you feel uncomfortable?"

"No. Never." 

"Did he ever criticize the way you cared for his son?"

"No," you said, your voice sounding stronger now. 

Tracy shuffled her papers and asked, "Does Lieutenant Bradshaw seem to be a loving and caring parent to Noah?"

"Yes," you replied with conviction. 

"Now, can you tell me a little bit about how you injured your arm in the parking lot at Meyer Park?"

You watched the color drain from Meredith's face as you recounted the way she had scared you, forcing you to run to safety with Noah.

"And was that the only time you saw her prior to this morning?" Tracy asked. 

"I saw her yesterday," you replied. "At the grocery store. I thought she was following me."

"Objection!" shouted the other lawyer. 

"Sustained," responded Judge Greene. Your head was swimming with what you were supposed to say and what you were supposed to stay away from. You couldn't remember. And you could barely focus on Tracy. But she wanted you to get to the point. You could tell.

So you blurted out, "Meredith asked me if I was sleeping with Bradley to get to his money. She mentioned a life insurance payout and his expensive car."

"It's actually a Bronco," Bradley muttered, raking his fingers through his hair as Meredith slammed her hand down on the notebook in front of her and started whispering to her lawyer. 

Tracy asked another question quickly while everyone else was distracted. "And what did you do when you left the grocery store?"

She was giving you an encouraging look, so you said. "I looked some things up online. About how her business filed for bankruptcy. And her home went into foreclosure. And she said in an interview after Noah was born that she doesn't have any kids."

"Objection!" the other lawyer shouted again. 

"Overruled," said Judge Greene, and Tracy looked like just won the lottery. "Please continue," she said, brow creased in concern now.

You felt like an idiot as you told Tracy that you used Google to search for information about Meredith, but you just kept going. 

"I found articles that suggest that her business went into bankruptcy because of mismanaged funds. And insider trading with her business partner. They were married, but it appears that he left her."

Every single time the other lawyer tried to object to what you were saying, the judge overruled it. And then Tracy urged you to continue. But you were shaking from a combination of anxiety and fear. 

"It sounds like she has no money," you said, voice quivering again as you met Bradley's eyes. You'd never seen him look so distraught or so hopeful before. He was silently cheering you on, like he knew how strong you could be. So you kept going.

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

Bradley was practically ready to crawl out of his own skin. He couldn't stand the way Meredith's lawyer kept yelling at you. He hated that he had to sit here in this horribly uncomfortable seat and just listen as your character got ripped to shreds. He wanted to take you and Noah home, order a pizza and watch a movie. You looked like you wanted to cry, but you didn't. And Bradley was so proud of how strong you were.

When Tracy started asking you questions, you sat up a little taller. You sounded a little bolder. And then Meredith was the one in a state of panic. 

"It sounds like she has no money," you said, as you met Bradley's eyes. "That doesn't sound like the right reason to fight for custody of a child."

The room went silent for a second after that. And then Meredith stood up and said, "I've lost everything, okay? Everything! But Noah is my blood, and I have a right to him, too!"

Then chaos broke out. When Bradley stood and said, "Why do you want him now that you're broke, huh?" he felt Tracy's hands on his arm, pulling him back to his chair. 

"Let her sink her own ship," she whispered, keeping a firm hand on his forearm. You were still sitting up in the front, perched on the edge of the seat like you wanted to run. He wanted to scoop you up like he always did, for your own comfort, but for his as well. 

He listened to Meredith rant and try to blame him for everything as her lawyer begged her to sit. He listened to her call you a slut and claim once again that you were pregnant. She said she knows you bought pregnancy tests at the grocery store. So what if you were pregnant? It didn't have anything to do with Noah or Bradley's ability to take care of him. It didn't have anything to do with that fact that Bradley would never abandon a child like she had. 

He watched Judge Greene remain completely calm as Meredith's lawyer finally got her to sit down. Then she stood and said, "Please bring me all written evidence. I'll have my decision shortly." Both lawyers handed her folders before she disappeared into her chambers. 

"Where's Noah?" Bradley asked Tracy immediately, accepting a bottle of water from her. 

"He's with the counselor. He's fine. And you did great."

"I barely did anything!" he growled, worried he hadn't done enough today. He'd done nothing compared to you. As you stood and made your way to the rows of benches behind him, you never met his eyes. He loved you. All he ever wanted to do was protect you from all of this. You shouldn't be here right now. If he lost Noah today, he didn't know how he was going to continue to exist. And you should have had no part in this nightmare. 

He'd forced this on you in a way. Every step he took since he met you led you here. Bradley had tried so hard to cut you out, end things with you, but he was so fucking weak. He should have been more focused on Noah. But he had been. He'd been trying to find someone to date who would make him and Noah complete, or at least better. And despite his initial reservations, that was you.

When he turned to face you, your eyes snapped up to meet his. He'd never be able to thank you enough for everything you'd done for both of them. But he wanted to have the chance. He wanted you to know what you meant to him and to Noah. 

"How long is this going to take?" he asked Tracy, wiping his sweaty palms on his suit pants. He could hear Meredith talking, but he kept himself focused on his lawyer.

"Hard to say," she told him calmly. "Just keep breathing. Focus on your breathing." 

So he did, and when he started to feel sick again, Tracy talked to him. And then Judge Greene was coming back out, and Bradley could see Noah through the door before it closed. Dread rose inside him as the judge had everyone in the room stand. He felt like his limbs weighed a million pounds as he faced the front of the room. 

Every second of silence made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He almost had to reach for Tracy when Judge Greene said, "In light of today's testimonies and evidence plus the collection of evidence I reviewed leading up to the trial, I have reached a decision regarding the custody of Noah Bradshaw."

Bradley had to close his eyes. All of his senses were overwhelmed, and he was afraid he was going to breakdown. 

"The following decision is a reflection of what is in the best interest of the child. Full custody is to be awarded to Bradley Bradshaw. There will be no visitation privileges. There will be no child support owed. The child's biological father is to be his sole guardian."

Bradley collapsed back down onto the chair as he cried. "Oh my god," he groaned, cradling his face in his hands. He was gasping for air as he felt Tracy's hand on his shoulder. He could see Meredith storm out of the room. He could hear you laughing and crying at the same time behind him as the counselor walked back out of the judge's chambers with Noah. 

And then he was out of his chair again, rushing toward his son and scooping him up. "I colored you a monkey," Noah told him as Bradley smothered his whole face in kisses. 

"I love it," Bradley promised him without even looking at the coloring sheet. "It's perfect, and I love it so much." He buried his face against Noah's neck and inhaled. 

"And I colored a unicorn for Princess."

"Yeah?" Bradley asked, holding him tight. "She's gonna love it, too."

"I know," Noah replied confidently. "I told them about how she brings me coloring books and cooks food like spaghetti. And how she plays blocks and reads and can sing good."

"You told them about Princess?" Bradley asked, turning to the back of the room. You were waiting patiently for them, a huge smile on your face as you bounced a little bit on your feet.

"Yep. I told them that she loves me and that you do too. Can we go home yet?"

As much as Bradley wanted to keep you separate from all of this, he needed you the whole time. And so did Noah. He rushed toward you and took you by the hand. "Now we can go home."

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

You unlocked the front door with your key, and Bradley kissed you again. A huge smile was still plastered all over your face as you watched how much he loved his son. He ended up on his back on the living room floor while Noah sat on top of him and laughed. Bradley's suit was a wrinkly mess now as you knelt down next to them. 

"You want spaghetti for dinner, Noah?" Your appetite was back, and you were ravenous. There was no doubt in your mind that Bradley could do with a good meal as well.

"Yeah! And ants on logs!" 

You kissed his chubby cheek and said, "Let me check on the raisin situation." Then you leaned down to kiss Bradley's lips, and he pulled you back for a second and a third. 

He murmured, "I love you," before briefly swiping your tongue with his. You ran your fingers back through his hair and let your forehead rest on his. 

"I love both of you." Then you kissed his nose and went to the kitchen, letting them have a little more time alone as they laughed on the floor. 

As you set a pot on the stove to boil some water, your eyes filled with tears. It felt like a combination of stress and relief and happiness. You sank to the floor with your back to the cabinet and cried. When you left the courthouse with Bradley, Meredith was nowhere to be found. Bradley had hugged Tracy with tears in his eyes, and she promised to be in touch with him soon to take some final actions. And then she told you that you had done a great job of staying calm and presenting evidence against Meredith while acting as a character witness. "I wish everyone was as professional as you."

Her words echoed in your head as you remembered that you didn't live here with Bradley and Noah. Not really. You were still going to need to finish writing your final papers for school and start looking for a job to support yourself. Because contrary to what Meredith thought, you hadn't been fucking Bradley to get him to pay your tuition. You had a mountain of loans to pay off now. And really, it would be better if you left after dinner tonight and went home. You'd have to get used to a routine where Bradley was your boyfriend with his own space. 

Noah came running in a minute later as you wiped your eyes. "I'm hungry," he informed you, sitting down on your lap. Bradley walked in without his suit coat on. His shirt sleeves were rolled up. His tie was loose, and his top few buttons were undone.

"How about I make dinner and you just supervise?" he asked, pulling you to your feet. "You had a long day, too."

So you nodded at him, and he picked you up and set you on the counter. And then he set Noah on your lap and started the playlist you made. You showed him how to brown the meat and add the sauce. You showed him how to keep the spaghetti noodles from sticking together.

And as he was plating the food, he paused and looked at you. "I forgot. I picked something up at the store the other day for us to celebrate with. Wait here." He dashed out of the room, and you slipped down off of the counter with Noah in your arms. You finished getting the spaghetti onto plates and pulled out the carrots to make him some ants, and then Bradley was back in the kitchen with the biggest bag of Skittles you had ever seen.

Laughter bubbled out of you along with another sob. "I'm happy, but I can't stop crying."

He tossed the Skittles aside and grabbed you by the hips. "That's because you really care about us. You always have. And you saved us today."

The prickle of his mustache against your skin had you parting your lips for him. He held you close, his thumbs stroking you through your pants as you worked your fingers through his hair. "I love you," he rasped, releasing your lips in favor of whispering the sexiest, loveliest things in your ear while Noah made a huge mess of spaghetti at the table. 

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

Ahhhhhhhhh! Ahhhhhhhhh! Hope you enjoy your fic, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !

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Wrong Number | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was planning on a quiet night at home with a beer and a basketball game on TV. When he receives a text from a wrong number, he's left looking at a beautiful photo of you. Now he just needs to persuade you to ditch the guy you meant to text and focus on him instead.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, slight dirty talk, Bradley touching himself

Length: 4700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written for Rocktober. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @thedroneranger

Bradley had endured such a long week at work, all he wanted to do was change out of his uniform, grab a beer from his fridge and lounge around on the couch in his underwear without a responsibility in sight. Nobody should have to work until ten on a Friday night, but it had taken him that long to sort through the massive stack of paperwork from Admiral Simpson. At least now he had nothing planned for the rest of his evening.

His apartment was too hot, and the cold bottle of beer pressed to his bare thigh as he reached for the TV remote left some droplets of condensation. It felt good. He took another sip as his phone vibrated next to him. With a soft grunt, he abandoned the remote in favor of the phone and unlocked it with his pass code.

There was a new text from an unknown number. And there was a photo attached. He grimaced, afraid of what he was going to find if he tapped on it. He read the phone number twice, but it didn't sound familiar beyond the San Diego area code. He let his head tip back as he recalled the time he pissed Nat off and she gave his phone number to a random sailor in retaliation. Bradley really hoped he wasn't going to have to kindly ask someone to stop sending him dick pics like last time. 

Before he lost the nerve, he tapped on the message, and his screen was suddenly filled with a photo of a woman who looked just a few years younger than him. And she was hot. He paused with his beer bottle halfway to his lips before letting it settle back down to his thigh. 

Hey, Alan. It's me. So now you have my phone number, too.

Bradley didn't know who the hell Alan was, but he wasn't mad about the mix-up. This photo was something else. It almost looked like it was taken in the bathroom at the Hard Deck. The lighting was bad, and there was a paper towel dispenser in the background, but whoever you were.... damn, you were stunning. All pretty features and smiling like you had a secret. 

It took him a moment to stop staring at the photo and return to the previous screen and your message. He was going to have to tell you that he wasn't Alan and that you had the wrong number, but he just sat there and tapped his phone case instead. He didn't even like the name Alan, but damn if he didn't want to be Alan right now. That lucky bastard had you interested in him. 

Bradley was wondering how the mix-up happened in the first place as he drafted up a text to you. Only some sort of fucking idiot wouldn't check and double check that he gave you the right number. "Amateurs," he mumbled as he typed with a little smirk on his face.

Hey, sorry to inform you, but this actually isn't Alan. However, I wouldn't mind one bit if you kept sending me the photos that are meant for him.

He hit send and tossed his phone aside, assuming you'd just block him and move on with your night. He brought his beer bottle back to his lips and enjoyed the way the drink helped cool him down while he contemplated taking a shower, but when he reached for the remote again, his phone vibrated. 

There was another message from the same number. Intrigued, Bradley unlocked his phone again, and he was pleased to see another text and another photo.

Hi, Not-Alan. Sorry about that! I hope you have a great night.

This photo was similar to the first one, except that you were flipping him the peace sign and winking which made Bradley laugh. You seemed fun, even through this limited interaction. And he was sure that was the ladies' bathroom at the Hard Deck, which pissed him off, because he got out of work so late he didn't feel like going out tonight. Maybe if he had been there, you wouldn't have been talking to Alan in the first place.

"Damn it." He was intrigued. He wanted to know more about this.

My night is substantially better now that I have two photos of you. So where did Alan get off to anyway? And why is he trying to steal my phone number?

This time Bradley was dying for another response. But it didn't come. He stared at his phone for a solid minute before returning to his beer and downing the rest of the bottle. Still nothing. He stood and made his way into the kitchen, tossing his empty into the recycling bin before getting another one from the fridge and eyeing up the food situation. He should probably eat something, but he swore he heard his phone vibrating. When he looked over to the couch, the screen was lit up. 

He slammed the fridge door and opened the new bottle before heading back to his phone. There was no photo this time, but there was a new message.

I actually lost Alan in the crowd, so really, the man could be just about anywhere. And I don't think he was trying to steal your number at all, Not-Alan. He wrote it on my palm, and it smeared before I could add it to my phone.

"Okay," Bradley said out loud. "Now we're getting somewhere." He sat down on the couch with his beer on the coffee table and started a new message. 

Alan should learn how to write neater in the future, because he's missing out here. You have to double check that someone who looks like you got the number right. Everyone knows that.

Bradley decided that he was going to have no shame for the night. Not as long as you kept writing back to him. He was contemplating how to save your number in his phone when another selfie with a message came through. You were out by the bar at the Hard Deck with a smile on your face, and you were holding up your palm complete with Bradley's smeared phone number.

Does this number look familiar, Not-Alan? Still no actual Alan in sight, by the way. 

Bradley supposed that the 7 could have been mistaken for a 1. Or maybe Alan's phone number had a 5 that got smeared into a 6. It didn't really matter. Bradley was going to shoot his shot and hope Alan didn't resurface. 

Good, Alan can just stay lost. What's your name, pretty girl?

Then he saved your number as Pretty Girl, and this time he did manage to turn the TV on while he waited with his phone in his hand. He muted the Clippers game and picked up his beer before promptly setting it back down again.

Pretty Girl: Not so fast, Not-Alan. You tell me your name first. And how old you are. And your blood type and the last four of your social security number. 

Bradley laughed and started typing. He realized he hadn't stopped smiling for the last twenty minutes as he hit send.

I'm Bradley. I'm 34. O positive. 2305.

On a regular night, the basketball game would have held his attention, but tonight he couldn't stop looking at his phone. "Come on, Pretty Girl," he muttered, running his beer bottle along his thigh before taking a sip. 

Pretty Girl: Okay, Bradley. You have my attention. Send me a selfie exactly where you are, and I'll think about telling you my name. No changing into something nicer. No fixing your hair. Just a selfie. Right now.

Bradley looked down at himself in just his black boxer briefs and mumbled, "If you say so." When he set his phone camera to selfie mode, he looked at the screen and realized his hair still looked pretty decent from work. So he went ahead and took a picture where he was wearing a bit of a skeptical smirk, and he sent it before he could think twice. 

And now his heart was beating a little faster. This was probably where you'd stop responding. Oh hell, at least he went for it, but a few minutes later, you still hadn't sent anything back to him. Maybe he could have tried to hide the scars on his neck and cheek, but what was the point? Clearly you were sending him actual selfies you'd taken tonight, and he did exactly what you'd told him to. Then his phone vibrated.

Pretty Girl: Do you really expect me to believe that you're not just googling "hot shirtless guy with a mustache", downloading a photo, and trying to pass it off as yourself?

He tipped his head back and laughed. There was just something about you. He didn't even know your name or what your voice sounded like, but he could already tell he was going to like both of those things. If you ever told him or let him hear you.

That's really me. Promise. Will you tell me your name now? Or do I have to keep calling you Pretty Girl?

He was wondering if you were still at the bar, surrounded by guys like Alan who would love to take you home while you were chatting with him. And he hoped the next text would contain your name. But you just ignored him when you wrote back a few minutes later. 

Pretty Girl: Prove you're not just sending some photos of a random hot dude. Go stand by your open refrigerator and take a selfie. Then take another one with your toothbrush. 

"She's a handful," Bradley murmured as he stood with a smile. He carried his beer into the kitchen, opened his refrigerator and snapped a selfie where the fridge light somehow accentuated his features nicely. Then he left his beer on the counter while he went into his bathroom. He was actively trying not to smile for this one where he had his red toothbrush hanging out of the side of his mouth, but he was on the verge of laughing at how ridiculous his night turned out to be. 

He typed up a message and attached both photos and then sent them off while he finished his beer at the kitchen counter, Clippers game forgotten. 

What is this, Pretty Girl? A hostage negotiation? I already told you, that's really me.

It didn't take too long for you to respond this time, and Bradley wasn't even letting his screen dim long enough to need to unlock it now.

Pretty Girl: Are you naked in these photos?

"Jesus," he muttered. Of course he wasn't. Did you want him to be? Shit, he needed to stop thinking about that.

No! I'm wearing underwear. You told me not to get changed or anything.

He felt flushed and too warm as he set his phone down on the counter and went to open some windows. Then he walked a few laps around his apartment in an effort to chill the fuck out. He wasn't even with you, and you were under his skin. 

When he returned to his phone, there was a selfie and a message waiting for him. In the photo, you were sipping a drink, and the way the straw pressed to your perfect lips had him practically moaning. 

Pretty Girl: My friend thinks there's something wrong with me. I'm at a Navy bar in San Diego at the moment. There are hot guys galore, and yet I'm glued to my phone. 

"Shit, shit, shit." Bradley thought about getting dressed and heading out to the bar himself. Then maybe he could hear you tell him your name in person right before he pulled the straw away from your mouth and kissed you.

How much longer are you going to be at the Hard Deck, Pretty Girl?

Bradley started heading for his bedroom closet when his phone vibrated in his hand.

Pretty Girl: How do you know I'm at the Hard Deck? Do I need to smash my phone to bits and go into hiding?

"Fuck," he grunted, typing so quickly he had to go back and fix several spelling errors before he could send it. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, so he paused before getting any clothing out of his closet.

Because I'm in the Navy, and I live in San Diego. And I recognized the inside of the bathroom from the first photo you sent me. I swear I'm not creepy. You can ask Penny, the bartender and owner of that fine establishment. I spend enough time there. Show her my photo.

Bradley collapsed onto his bed with his forearm over his eyes and his phone clutched to his chest. He didn't have to check the time to know it had been a while since he texted you. He also didn't have to look at his phone to know it was after midnight now and that you and he had been chatting for almost two hours. Bradley jolted when the phone vibrated against his chest.

Pretty Girl: Okay. Alright. Penny is a sweetheart, and your story checks out. Also, she told me your call sign and then told me to have you verify what it is for my own peace of mind. So what is it, Bradley? And how do you know what the ladies' restroom here looks like?

Oh, he was going to owe Penny big time. He typed away as he lay sprawled out on his bed.

My call sign is Rooster. And as for your bathroom question.... are you really going to make me answer that?

Bradley closed his eyes and thought about the girl who had taken him into the bathroom with her last year. He was pretty sure she had brown hair, but other than that, he couldn't really recall. But he did remember looking at that paper towel holder on the wall and the framed photo of an F/A-14 that was hanging over it while he was in there with her. 

He wouldn't mind taking a trip there with you, that was for sure. Or maybe you and he could skip the scandalous bar hookup and just go right to dinner or a movie. For some reason, he thought he might actually prefer that.

Pretty Girl: Be back soon. I'm getting a ride home.

Bradley mused out loud, "It better not be from Alan." Shit, he could have offered to go pick you up and make sure you got home safely. He'd only had those two beers all night, and now he was picturing some faceless guy named Alan driving you home and pawing at you.

He texted you back.

Let me know when you get home, okay? And you can always just call me.

With a sigh, he got out of bed and plugged his phone in, not sure what to expect at this point. He went back into the bathroom and used his red toothbrush. And then he went back to the living room and closed all the windows. When he was in his room again, he had no new notifications as he climbed in bed. He was about to text you again and check in when his phone rang.

CALL FROM Pretty Girl

Bradley was smiling as he answered. "Hey, Pretty Girl."

A soft laugh preceded your voice, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek as you said, "Hi, Bradley with the O positive blood. Are you trying to tell me that you were in that bar bathroom with a girl?"

He found himself laughing. "Can I plead the fifth?"

When you moaned softly, he dropped his phone onto the pillow and had to scramble to get it. "Oh, my god. Even your voice is sexy."

Okay. He should not be on the verge of touching himself after you spoke three whole sentences to him. "You make it home safely?" he asked, trying to play it cool as he thought about those photos you sent him. 

"Mmhmm. A very nice man named Alan drove me home. He's right here next to me as I get changed for bed."

Bradley thought for a beat that he had met his match in you. "You better be lying. You know what, put Alan on the phone."

Your laughter filled him up as you said, "He's not really here. I had to ditch him, because he doesn't even have a mustache. Apparently that's a deal breaker for me now?"

Holy shit. Bradley was in trouble. He was getting turned on, and you weren't even really saying anything dirty. "You're killing me. You gonna tell me your name, Pretty Girl?"

"No. I think I'm going to hold onto it a little longer."

"Fine. But please explain to me how I've never seen you at the Hard Deck before. I'm certain I would remember your face."

Your voice sounded a little softer now as you said, "I just moved to Coronado. It was my first time at the bar."

If he hadn't worked so late today, Bradley would have probably been there tonight as well. "You had fun? You think you'll go back again?"

"Probably," you replied casually. "When do you think you'll be there?"

Bradley was so warm he was starting to sweat. "Pretty Girl, you just say the word, and I'll clear my whole damn calendar."

Your little sighs and soft giggles were going to be the death of him. "You know, I still have Alan's, or rather your phone number on my hand."

He imagined himself kissing your palm and rewriting his phone number. "Should be in my handwriting. I'll make sure I always bring a pen with me to the bar."

You cleared your throat softly, and Bradley imagined you climbing into bed. "Penny told me to watch out for some of the other guys. But she said you're okay."

"Just okay?"

"Actually, she called you a big, brown eyed puppy dog."

Bradley laughed. "I've been called worse."

"I'm sure you have," you replied quickly. "You deserve some sort of punishment for daring to look good with a mustache."

"It's a blessing and a curse. Now, are you going to send me another photo? Or are you going to just agree to meet me tomorrow night?"

He heard a rustling noise and then you softly said, "Alan is not going to like this one bit." And then another photo arrived, and this one had Bradley's mouth hanging open. 

"Now it's my turn to ask if you're naked in this picture." He was taking in every inch of your exposed skin and your bedding tucked up to your collar bones. You took your makeup off for bed, and you looked cozy and intimate. And you were talking to him. You were letting him see this. Bradley had to actively think about not touching himself. 

"Totally naked."

"Fuck."

"Send me another one?"

"Yeah," he grunted, swallowing hard as he tried to pose for another selfie just how he was, sprawled out on his pillow with his left arm bent and tucked back behind his head. But his cheeks looked flushed, and his eyes looked darker than usual. He was turned on. 

Fuck it. He snapped the photo and sent it. And about ten seconds later, he was greeted with the strangled sound you made.

"It should be illegal for someone with that mustache to look so good. It's rude, honestly. Bradley, you're kind of rude, because now I want to know...."

He was hanging on your every word. "Know what, Pretty Girl?"

The call went completely silent before you said softly and sweetly, "What your mustache feels like...everywhere."

A soft, startled laugh escaped his lips. You were on the verge of some dirty talk now, he could just tell. And his cock was hard as he replied with, "I'd love to let you find out. But before you respond, I need to know how much you've had to drink tonight. I don't want to take advantage of anything here."

You whimpered on the other end of the call. "A mustache, brown eyes, and a gentleman? All Alan did for me was buy me those two Long Island iced teas."

Bradley grunted and said, "That's enough about Alan. Why don't you go ahead and tell me where you'd like to feel my mustache first, Pretty Girl."

You squeaked and said, "I want to feel it rough along my skin right below my ear while you whisper to me. Oh my god, I can't believe I said that out loud. I should just go to bed."

"Don't hang up," Bradley said, panting with need now. "Tell me more."

"Okay," you sighed with another little squeak. "I want to feel it on my lips. While I'm sitting in your lap, licking the taste of that beer you drank from your mouth."

"Holy shit," he groaned, palming himself through his boxer briefs.

"I know," you whined with need. "And I want to feel it on the back of my neck while you do filthy things to me. And I don't even know you!"

"You will," he guaranteed. "Please, tell me what time I can meet you tomorrow."

Bradley listened to the rustle of your sheets as he waited. Then you finally said, "Seven o'clock? At the Hard Deck?"

"I'll be there, Pretty Girl. I can't wait to see you."

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

It was barely even 6:30, but you were already at the bar all made up and wearing a cute dress. Penny recognized you right away, which was kind of nice and kind of embarrassing. When she asked if you wanted another Long Island, you waved her off and said, "Nothing yet. I'm meeting someone."

Her eyes lit up as she asked, "Is it Rooster?"

You'd barely slept all night, preferring to look at the four selfies he'd sent you after you ended the call around two. There was a little more dirty talk, sure, but you and he also learned a bit more about each other. And now you were going to meet this naval aviator who was originally from Virginia but loved the Los Angeles Clippers face to face. 

"Yeah. It's Rooster."

Penny looked truly delighted. "You have nothing to worry about. He's very sweet."

"Tell that to the butterflies," you muttered as you placed one hand on your stomach for a beat, willing the nerves to dissipate as you walked away. You'd told Bradley you wanted his mustache on your body. In several places. And then he told you he thought you were so pretty and fun that he wanted to kiss you everywhere. And right now you were just mystified as to how this could have possibly happened only a week after you moved to this neighborhood. And you still didn't know what happened to Alan after you went to the ladies' bathroom and saved the wrong number in your phone.

You laughed when you thought about it, and then you ran your hands along the fabric of your dress. You were so antsy, your palms were sweaty. You looked down at yourself and just got more nervous. Bradley hadn't seen much of your body in the photos you'd sent to him. You'd seen plenty of his though, and he looked tall and muscular even next to his damn refrigerator. And his face was gorgeous, right down to that sinful looking mustache. 

And you were just... you. Alan was really more your speed with his nerdy glasses and messy hairstyle and his lack of ability to even grow any sort of facial hair at all. You just hoped that Bradley wouldn't take one look at you in person and walk right back out of the bar. 

You were about to tell Penny that you thought you needed a drink after all when the door caught your eye, and Bradley strolled into the bar like he owned the place. "Oh...fuck," you whispered, gaping at him as he ran his fingers through his hair. The photos hadn't even done him justice. He had to be over six feet tall, and he was so broad and muscular, he looked like he could pick you up and toss you around a little bit. "Shit." He was wearing some snug fitting jeans and a tropical print shirt like he just knew he could pull off the most ridiculous look. "Damn." He was glancing around, trying to find you while you started scouring the room unsuccessfully for another exit. 

You were trapped in here, and he was walking further into the bar now. And you didn't think you could hide halfway behind this couple who was making out for very much longer.  

As Bradley's eyes scanned the crowd again, he looked a little apprehensive. His brow was scrunched, and he checked the time on his watch. You knew it was almost seven. So you took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then you scooted one step to your left. When his gaze came your way again, his eyes landed on you. And then his face softened. The apprehension melted away, and he smiled a cute and somehow sexy little grin that made you whimper.

Now he was heading your way, his gait sure and steady. And then he was just a few feet away and you could see the scars on his face that you'd studied all night in the photos. And you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes that somehow the selfies didn't capture. And then he was talking, and his voice was even better in person.

"Pretty Girl."

Okay, so he'd seen you up close, and he wasn't running away. That had to be a good sign, right? You managed to say just one slightly breathless word. "Hi." And then his smile grew, and he was closing the space between your body and his. He was reaching for your face and running one rough thumb along your cheek. And then he kissed you.

And the soft scrape of his mustache was even better than all of the ways you'd spent your night imagining it might feel. You couldn't help but return his kiss, and somehow your hands ended up pressed to the front of him, sliding up to his chest. 

When he broke the kiss, he stayed close, his lips not far from your face. He covered your hands with his, keeping them on his body. And then he leaned close to your ear, his mustache scraping along your soft skin there as he whispered, "Tell me your name, Pretty Girl. I'm dying here."

Soft laughter bubbled out of you as he pulled away from you a bit, and those butterflies were going wild. His eyes were fixed on your face, begging for an answer this time as he stroked your hands with his thumbs. And then you told him, and he tried your name out on his tongue a few times with that grin that you liked so much. He kept saying it softly until you kissed him this time, and then he guided your arms around his neck. 

"Listen," he said in that raspy voice that you'd love to focus on all night. "I have no problem staying here for a while if you want to. I bet you could even persuade me to join you in the ladies' room."

"Sounds tempting," you told him with a smirk.

"It really does. But we could also just ditch the bar and grab dinner instead? Maybe watch the Clippers game and have a drink at my place? I'm a little worried Alan might show up here and try to lure you away, if I'm being honest."

You practically snorted with laughter. "I can't even really remember what Alan looks like. He was totally gone from my mind after the first selfie you sent me. Let's get out of here."

He took you by the hand. "Anything you want, Pretty Girl."

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

I love dreamy loverboy Bradley, and I love Pretty Girl too. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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We need mean!reader, angry!reader, misunderstood!reader, creepy!reader, gross!reader, toxic!reader, nonforgiving!reader, selfish!reader, narcissistic!reader, dark!reader, FEDUP!reader. That bitch is way too nice, passive, and sensible. ✋🏾😂

What I write:

🩵Female Reader

🤍 Character x Character

🩵fluff

🤍angst

🩵Mild mentions of bullying or abuse (with specifics and TW in the “Warnings”)

🤍mild spice (not 100% comfortable with writing smut)

🩵Romantic

🤍Platonic (this can be parental, friendship, sibling etc)

🩵Age gap

What I will NOT write:

TW (just incase)

🩵Pedophile related topics

🤍graphic/detailed Abuse

🩵Rape/Non con/Dub con

Contents ~

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST

TOP GUN MASTERLIST

MARVEL MASTERLIST

DC TITIANS MASTERLIST

DC MASTERLIST

STAR WARS MASTERLIST

NIGHT AT THE MUSEUM MASTERLIST

Home sweet home ~ T.I.K

Masterlist

Blurb: After completing the mission, Iceman returns home to his Girlfriend (Y/N) Mitchell; the sister of Pete “Maverick” Mitchell. All her nerves evaporate as she looks into his blue eyes.

Warnings: none, just pure fluff.

[(Y/n) - Your name] [(y/h/c) - your hair colour] [(y/e/c) - your eye colour]

Tom “Iceman” Kazanksky x Fem!Reader. Will include Pete being Pete. Romantic and sibling interactions. She/her pronouns used. vague mention of a small age gap (6 years). Pet names “Angel” and “Babe” used. Short but sweet

Sitting in the living room, knees tucked under your chin, ‘Great balls of fire’ playing at a medium volume and staring absentmindedly out the window. The waves of the beach sparkled through your window, but it didn’t help your nerves. The blue water reminded you of your Boyfriend’s eyes, which you were scared that you would never get to see again. You knew that being the partner of a Navy Pilot came with its up and downs, but you always felt the same mix of hope and dread when your Boyfriend would go on missions. It also didn’t help that your older brother was also in the same profession. So not knowing if you would possibly loose either one, or both of them made your breathing shake and throat dry.

You got up with a sigh and went into your shared bedroom, getting one of his white dress shirts from the wardrobe and put it on like a cardigan. You brought a sleeve to your nose and inhaled the smell of his cologne, letting your mussels relax at last. “I need to take my mind off this for a while” you spoke your thoughts out loud while grabbing your bag and keys. So with the house locked, you made your way to your motorbike. Hopping on and the engine roaring to life.

You had no destination in mind, letting the bike lead the way. Your hair blowing in the wind, the cool breeze stroking your cheeks and the smell of the salty sea in the air brought you peace. Turning left, the bike led you up to a cliff on the nearest mountain. The gravel and soil crinkled and crunched unter the tires, finally getting to the cliff. Parking it in the shade, you walked to the edge. Sitting down with your feet dangling while taking in the view. You felt a tickle on your thigh and looked down in curiosity. Sitting on your thigh, was a green gecko which gazed its small eyes on you. You smiled, being fond of all animals leading you to stroke it’s back. The small reptile seemed content by the action, so it cutely rested its head and drifted off to sleep. Your smile grew, knowing that the little guy trusted you enough to sleep on you made you feel warm inside.

Letting time drift by as you took in the view while caring for the reptile, you realise that your Boyfriend and your brother could be home any minute. Carefully putting the creature onto the warm rock, you got up and rushed to your bike. You carefully but quickly made your way home, with your heart beating hard in your chest. You and your brother weren’t raised religious, but you were praying to God that they were both safe. As you approach the drive way, you don’t see either of their vehicles which made your nerves and adrenaline increase. You parked in your spot and got inside, as you wanted them to come home to a snack and a beer. You set out 2 large bags of Doritos and a six-pack of bottled beer.

You cleaned the non-existent dust off your hands and mumbled “Perfect” under your breath.

-

Ice and Maverick made their way off the boat, bags in hand. Their bodies in fresh, clean civilian clothes. They chatted to one another while they got to their vehicles. “When are you going to get a car Mav? God, you and (Y/n) are so alike it’s insane” Ice through his bag into his trunk. The brunette chuckled and answered like the smartass he is “when pigs fly!”, coaxing a laugh from the Pilot. Getting into/onto their vehicles, they drove to the Kazansky-Mitchell household. They both felt extremely excited to see you, as they had both expressed how much they missed you and hoped you were ok without them. Being gone for up to 6 months obviously would’ve had its ups and downs, so they didn’t want to waste another minute of letting you be without them.

They pull up into the driveway and park in their respective spots, getting out/off with haste to the front door. Ice got his keys out and unlocked the door, his key chain of an ice cube that you had gotten him for his birthday hitting the wood of the front door. Pushing the door open, the sound of fast paced walking was heard. All Ice saw was (y/h/c) and all he felt was arms going around his neck. He didn’t need processing time as his arms rushed to be around you, his head resting on your shoulder and a smile on his face. Light and muffled sobs were heard coming from you as you were officially not boyfriend-and-brother-less.

“Hey Angel, it’s ok. I’m here, I’m here” Ice ran his hands up and down your back to sooth you, which was muscle memory. “Babe, please look at me” he pushed you back a bit, wanting to look into your gorgeous (y/e/c) eyes. Your teary eyes looked up at his and everything you had been worrying about, evaporated. Your face lit up and you let out a sigh. As ice wiped any remaining tears from your face, the moment was interrupted by your brother feeling ‘left out’.

“Wow, this is a lovely wall! I’ve never seen anything like it! I just love how-” you both look at him as he stands with his hands on his hips, looking at the wall. You both laugh and roll your eyes, you went to Maverick’s side and slapped his shoulder. “-Ok, you can shut up now!” You silenced him and pulled him into a hug. He hugged you tightly, putting a hand on the back of your head. “You’re 6 years older than me and yet I question who really is the oldest here” you let go of him and it’s his turn to slap you, he chuckles. “I missed you too”

After you all settled down and you helped Ice bring in his bags. You all sat on the couch with the snacks and beer, making up for lost time. You laughed together, listened to each others stories of the past months and it felt like they never left.

“Alright guys, I’ll be back for dinner. I’ve just got a meeting with Viper about my Instructor position” Pete stood up and kissed the top of your head and shook Tom’s hand.

Once he was out the door Tom wasted no time in kissing you. His hand reached up and cupped your cheek, which you instantly melted into. Tom picked you up and placed you on his lap, hugging you close. He kissed your cheek, while his fingers played with your hair.

“Home sweet home” Tom’s lips stretched into a soft smile at the cheesy saying. You smiled back at him, mapping his face with your eyes. You still felt like you were dreaming, which is understandable given the length of time you were separated.

You placed your lips to his forehead and then to his lips, pecking them. “I love you Angel” Tom declared. Your smile grew and you didn’t hesitate to reply.

“I love you more Ice cube”

—————————————————

I hope you enjoyed my second imagine on Tumblr!

Nothing Comes Close to the Golden Coast

Description: You're on the beach because it's what your little sister wanted for her bachelorette party. One day, you can manage, right? You're not expecting to stumble right into the woman who could can change your outlook on beaches that day. But with Natasha Trace, maybe you're starting to see nothing comes close to the golden coast.

Warnings: Female! Reader, Flirting, Beaches, Mild Cursing, Natasha is too flirty for words and possibly a little dangerous

A/N: Hiya lovelies! This is a fic I wrote for @bellaireland1981 's 1K Pool Party celebration. Congratulations on 1K followers Bella! It's my first time writing a long form Phoenix x Reader fic and I hope I did Nix justice. All my love to @horseshoegirl for beta-ing this fic for me and making sure I wasn't 1) using too many commas (yes I have a problem) and 2) that this fic was flirty and fun and summery enough!

Word Count: 3617

Cross-posted to AO3 here!

Cross-posted to Wattpad here!

You like going to the beach as much as any other girl. But unlike other girls, you tend to prefer quiet, calm, clear beaches to lie on. The kind of beach where you can hear the tide coming in and the seagulls wheeling in the clear summer sky. The kind of beach where the sand is clear, and you never have to fight to find a spot to lay down your towel and where you can read without a beach ball smashing into your face. Of course, finding the clear beaches you love is far from easy. It seems like the minute the calendar hits Memorial Day, everyone in the Greater San Diego area books it to the beach for the summer. You’ve even seen people taking meetings out on the beach. But to put it bluntly, you're not one of those people.

So why are you out on this congested, loud beach today? There's only one reason: your baby sister's Bachelorette party. It was an obligation you couldn’t get out of. You love your sister, but you’re less than happy to be spending time with her and her friends. When it’s just the two of you, it feels like you’re the closest pair of siblings on the planet. But when she’s with her friends, it feels like there is a colossal, ever-widening, yawning gulf between you. Everyone calls her the pretty one while you're the practical one. In the eyes of your entire extended family, it is one of the many reasons why she's getting married at 22 when you're still single at 28. To keep the peace, you’ve been pasting a smile on your face and literally grinning and bearing it for everything she’s asked of you. Because you love her and in only a week’s time you can get a bit of a break from her (or really, from her best friend).

To make matters worse, you’re the only girl in the group wearing a one-piece suit, something flattering yet mostly covered, without showing off your cleavage or too much of your ass.

“God, do you have to wear that old lady suit?” She'd scoffed when you walked out of your house that morning, a sunhat on your head and a sarong tied around your waist to complement the deep maroon one-piece you’d pulled out to wear. “Please tell me you have a bikini you can go wear instead. If you'd told me, I would have brought you one of mine!”

As if you'd have ever worn a bikini of hers. Your younger sister is thin, model thin, with a narrow waist and perfectly perky A-cups, which look fantastic in the hot pink bikini she's wearing today. She's got the physique that makes men look a little stupid. Already, there is a pack of unfairly pretty men who have gone a little cross-eyed when your sister and her friends walked by. In contrast, you're shorter and curvier, your hair dark where hers is blonde, and the ultimate introvert to her bubbly extrovert.

You aren't even her maid of honor at her wedding - that particular honor belongs to her best friend - yes, the aforementioned obnoxious Sally herself. It's not as if anyone has even noticed you're not having the time of your life in the water. After all, why would they? Who wants the babysitter hanging around you when you're trying to have fun? It's the role you've been playing since your sister was born, and you're sure you'll play it again once your sister has kids. For now, all you can do is stay secluded under your umbrella and try to read a little despite the noise. At least it is a little emptier on the beach now as the sun sinks slowly across the sky.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

The voice is male, filled with all the surety of a man who knows what he wants and has never failed to get it. Your eyes are rolling before your head rises from your book. Your sister and Sally are under the umbrella next to you, and unsurprisingly, that comment was targeted at the two of them. You're pretty sure they are two of the group who were tossing around not one but two footballs on the beach.

“Two pretty things like you look like you could use a drink.”

It's the blonde, tall with green eyes, and a shit-eating grin, who makes the offer. And to your disbelief, it looks like your sister is going to take these guys up on their offer.

“We'd love to!”

Is she thinking at all? Before you can stop yourself, you're speaking.

“Can I talk to you, Vicky?”

“The fuck do you need to talk to her for?”

Sally's growling at you, her arms crossed under her chest in a way that accentuates the cleavage already threatening to break free of her string bikini. Your cheeks flush as the two men glance between you and her, discerning gazes flip-flopping between you and her at heated words.

“You're her sister, not the fucking morality police. We're having drinks with them. Either you can join us, or you can glare disapprovingly. But don't you dare tell us what we can and cannot do.”

“You're such a fucking stick in the mud. I don’t get why the hell you came with us. Why are you always coming out with us, anyway? I mean, I’d have had a life by the time I was your age, but well, I guess you're even too boring for that.”

You're left gaping at Sally and your sister as they walk away. The words don't hurt, not really. You've been hearing a version of them for years, ever since Sally and Vicky decided they didn't like having you shadow them. Of course, they don't believe you when you say you'd rather do anything other than join them while they get up to all the bullshit they do. Once upon a time, Vicky used to defend you. Obviously, those days are long gone.

It doesn't mean you won't still watch out for your sister, though. Call it some sort of sickening nostalgia for the days when you and her were close once, chasing each other around playing unicorns in your backyard. Call it affection for the little girl who used to follow along behind you, repeating everything you said with a lisp. Call it love for your sister who you would once do anything for - would still do anything for.

Of course, you immediately realize the situation is far different than you thought it would be. Because there aren't just two incredibly hot men, but ten. Before you can blink, they're all over Vicky, Sally and their other friends. Somebody has sparked up a bonfire, and you gravitate to the hot flames despite yourself. You're a little chilled after being out in the hot sun all day. As the sun sets over the sea, one of them nestles a Bluetooth speaker into the sand and turns the music up. 

California Gurls, we're unforgettable,

Daisy Dukes, bikinis on top

Whoever made this playlist needs better taste in music. Or at least they need to pick something which you haven't heard on the radio every day of the summer in 2010. As it is, it will be stuck in your head for days.

“This song sucks, huh?”

You jump at the voice near your ear, stumbling and nearly face-planting in the sand. You have the kind of face which shows your emotions plainly, you've always been told so. Now someone has noticed, and you hope this person won’t throw you under the bus like all of Vicky’s friends. You pretend it’s just the song as you turn around with a smile pasted across your face.

“It's the worst!”

You're sure you have other things to say, but they disappear from your head like smoke when you see the woman who is talking to you. She's gorgeous, whiskey eyes flickering gold with the bonfire's flames. She's absolutely beautiful, and it feels a little like you're in an alternate universe. There's a cool breeze coming off the water, and in addition to the salt from the sea, you can smell hibiscus in the air. It has to be from her perfume, you note vacantly.

There's humor in her eyes as she stands beside you, surveying the others around the bonfire just like you are. You can see your sister in the distance, dancing with the blonde who asked if she wanted a drink. She looks like she’s well on her way to becoming completely drunk, but you don’t care. Vicky’s an adult. She made her own decisions, and she can stand by them. All of your attention is on the brunette in front of you. She holds out a bottle to you, condensation dripping over her fingers.

“I thought you could use a drink.”

“Thanks.”

The drink in question is a bottle of soda, ice cold.

“I, uhh…” She looks a little sheepish, some of her confidence draining away as you look inquiringly at her. “I wasn’t sure how else to get you to talk to me.”

“W-why wouldn’t I talk to you?” 

She grins ruefully, “Because you've been glaring at Bagman and your friends since you walked over here?”

“And, you don't look like you're having much fun.”

“Fun…” You sigh, "is a word for it. And we're not friends.”

“Younger sister?”

You laugh, “Is it that obvious?”

“You're a good sister, coming out with her and her friends like this.” 

Her innocent words touch your heart a little bit.

“I've got two just like her. They're so sure they're grown up, but they could still need somebody to watch out for them.”

You turn excitedly, “Yes! Yes. That’s it! She's getting married next week, but there's still so much she doesn’t know yet! And she and her best friend hate that I'm here. Call it her need to be seen and treated like an adult. I'm in her bridal party and she doesn’t even want to celebrate with me. Guess everybody would pick Bagman over there over me.”

“I don't hate that you're here, you know?”

You startle a little at the frank openness of this beautiful stranger's voice.

“Why not? You don't know a single thing about me.”

“I know you’re a big sister. I know you hate Katy Perry’s California Gurls, not because the song itself is horrible, but because you’ve probably heard it a million times.”

She tugs at your hand, and you follow her as she leads you away from the bonfire, the song still blaring away. You shouldn’t follow her, you know you shouldn’t. But despite yourself,you’re curious. There’s something about her you need to know more of. Away from the bonfire, the air is cool, and crisp. The beach feels swept clean the further you walk.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you planned this.” 

You crack open the soda and take a sip, pretending not to feel dark eyes on the side of your face.

“I didn’t plan it.” She chuckles a little, playing with your fingers. “All I wanted was to keep talking. I think I owe you a few more things I know about you, anyways.”

Your heart warms as she shrugs out of the hoodie and lays it over the sand. She sprawls down with a grace you couldn't emulate if you tried, all long, lean muscles exuding strength and power. You feel awkward in contrast, self-conscious as you try to sit on as much of the hoodie as you can without sprawling in her lap in a way that would have you mortified and her uncomfortable. But you can still feel her, warm and solid, as she retakes your hand. It’s comforting, the light touch, the calluses at her fingertips making goosebumps rise over your arms. Her perfume smells different this close, the light scent of summer hibiscus melting into roses and morning dew. It’s addicting.

“Y-you mentioned there were a couple more things you knew about me?” 

The words leave you in a whisper, tripping over each other as they drop off your tongue.

Her laugh is husky and warm, and for one moment, all you want is for her to make that wondrous sound again. But you quell that particular impulse. After all, no matter how weak you are for this woman, you barely know her. You won't be making a fool of yourself tonight.

“I think you're smart, smarter than anyone gives you credit for being. You're strong and single-minded.” She leans in conspiratorially, a smirk on her lips. “Some people would call you stubborn, but I think they're just afraid you'll leave them behind in your quest for world domination.”

“How do you know I'm gunning for world domination?” You're smiling from ear-to-ear as you ask the question.

“All the prettiest girls are. Especially the girls who bring a book to the beach for family when they'd probably rather be curled up on a window seat with a cup of tea handy.”

Your cheeks have to be crimson by now. Of all the days for an unfairly pretty woman to come up to you and flirt, she has to pick today. She’s so confident, so pretty and vivacious and all the things you never could be. In comparison, you just feel dull, like a piece of fabric bleached by the sun, until there are only the faintest hints of color left. It’s also been a really long time since anyone’s even looked twice at you.

“I-I do like reading at a window seat while it rains.” Your smile is halfway genuine now, you think. You can’t keep volunteering bits of information about yourself without getting some info from her in turn.

“What do you like doing in your spare time?”

Maybe you picked the wrong question to ask because her easy smile drops faster than you can blink. The small wrinkles at the corners of her eyes flatten out, and the dimples are so deep you’ve been wanting to kiss them since you saw them disappear as her smile does. The silence between you isn’t comfortable anymore. It’s awkward, a discordantly awkward tone spoiling the harmony of the moments before.

“I don’t have much spare time. Or hobbies.”

“I’m sorry.”

You’re babbling before the apology has left your lips, mind speeding at a hundred miles per hour at the thought you’ve somehow managed to insult the one person who’s wanted to talk to you all night. You’re standing and turning to head back to the bonfire before she hops up next to you.

“Whoa, whoa.” Her hands are hot as they make contact with your upper arms. “I’m not angry at you. I dunno if you heard what those meatheads were saying when they were posturing to your sister and her friends earlier, but I’m a Naval Aviator.”

“It doesn’t leave a lot of time for hobbies.”

“So, what do you do with your free time?” 

She’s so close you can feel the heat of her skin.

“Most of my free time is spent at the gym. It takes hard work to look this good.” 

You giggle a little as she tugs your hands until they’re flat against her toned stomach. The muscles twitch under your fingers a little, and you feel light-headed. Is she really flirting with you? You? 

“Not everyone can read books and look as good as you do.”

“What else do you do?” Your voice is weak, barely audible over the rushing waves, but she hears you anyway.

“Sleep. Try to read. Though it’s harder to concentrate when you’re surrounded by hundreds of lonely, horny men than when you’re sitting in a window seat.”

She smirks a little, leaning closer then. 

“And I definitely spend a lot of time daydreaming about a pretty bookworm in my bed to keep me warm at night.”

“O-oh.”

Your face has to be crimson by now. It feels so hot. The dark ocean seems way too alluring, if only for a cold reality check. There’s no way this gorgeous, smart, sexy woman is hitting on you. There’s no way. Maybe if you keep saying it over and over, it will be a reality instead of what your delusional mind is coming up with.

“Sadly, there hasn’t been a pretty bookworm in my bed in a while.” 

The smile on her face falls, the motes of color swirling in her hypnotic eyes, fracturing into crystals at the words. 

“None of them can take the long days away, no dates, little contact. Maybe one day I’ll find the right bookworm for me. Unless…”

Her arm has found its way around your shoulders, the warm lines of her body searing into you.

“Well, this is a silly question, but would you maybe like to grab a coffee sometime? Get to know each other better?”

You want to say yes. More than anything you want to. But you can’t bring yourself to accept her invitation, not when you have more questions than answers.

“W-why me?”

Her lips are warm even through the material of your half-damp swimsuit as she presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“You’re different from the other girls I talk to.” 

You’re unsure how to respond, half afraid she will go on and on about how boring and dull you are. All of the others you’ve dated certainly have. They expect one of the standard sexy-librarian types when they meet you and find out you like to read. They’re always disappointed when the truth they come to see couldn’t be any further from what they imagine. 

“You’re so beautiful,” she sighs. “I swear I nearly got hit on the head with one of the footballs when I saw you walk out onto the beach and sit under your umbrella.”

“You missed it, I'm sure, but those goofballs in my squadron were laughing at me for hours.” 

There's a slight pink tinge to her cheeks as she leans back. You miss her the minute you lose her warmth.

“I um…” She runs a hand, long-fingered and pretty (why the hell are even her hands so pretty), through her hair. “I'm pretty sure that's why those two walked up to your sister and her friend.”

“They wanted me to come to the bonfire tonight?”

You're pretty sure your mouth is wide open at this point. 

“Yeah. Though I should say, I wanted an excuse to talk to the prettiest woman I've ever seen. And maybe flirt with her a little. And maybe get her to agree to go out with me.”

“How is this clever plan of yours working for you?” 

Your voice is a whisper again as you peer over your shoulder at her. 

“You don’t know my name. You don't even know if you're my type.” 

It takes every bit of courage to banter lightly with her.

“I think it's going pretty well. After all, I've got you sitting here with me instead of out there with those idiots. And I'd very much like your name.”

You smile despite yourself as you tell her your name, getting hers in turn: Natasha Trace, callsign Phoenix. Her callsign fits her fierce and confident personality.

“So what do you say about getting coffee with me sometime?”

Just before you're about to respond, you hear your name called from the bonfire. It's one of Vicky's friends calling for you and pointing at your sister. She's drunk, and you can tell she's minutes away from courting an indecent exposure charge. She's sitting on Bagman's lap and doing her best to eat his face right off. He seems like a more than willing participant. Your concerns have more to do with how her bikini is moving, how she’s only moments away from an indecent exposure charge.

“Fuck.” 

You turn to Natasha and smile. “I'm really sorry, but I have to…”

You make a vague gesture in your sister's direction.

“I understand. She needs you right now.”

You nod and begin to walk away, pulling your coverup out of your bag. But your feet don't let you move very far. What kind of person would you be if you let the best thing that's ever happened to you slip through your fingers so easily? You can't let her slip away. So you rummage in your bag for one of the notebooks you always carry with you and scrawl your phone number down on it, ripping the page away.

She looks surprised to see you again when you catapult yourself into her arms and kiss her soft lips. She tastes like the beer she was drinking earlier, and as her arms wrap around your waist, you sink into the kiss a little bit more. You feel like you never want to leave. Yet you know the longer you stay here kissing Natasha, the more time your sister has to make situations worse. Her friends may be cheering her on, but her fiancé won't be quite so magnanimous.

When you pull away, her cheeks are the same pink as earlier. Her lips are kiss-swollen, and her eyes are bright. You're sure yours are the same.

“Let's get that coffee, Natasha.”

You press the paper into her hands and hurry back up to the beach to take care of your sister. In the hilarity of pulling her away from Bagman and wrestling her into your coverup, you can feel eyes on you. They track you until you drive away.

There's a text on your phone when you get home.

Let's get that coffee tomorrow morning. Do you know Madison's Cafe? I'd very much like to kiss you again.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @roosterforme @cherrycola27 @thedroneranger @chaoticassidy @kmc1989

Cards Close to the Chest // Bob Floyd

Summary: When Bob & Phoenix fall from the sky, Bob’s closest kept secrets come to light as two of the most important people in his life race to his side.

Warnings: Bob Floyd x F!reader. Fluff (poorly written) Mild cock-sure Jake Seresin. Hospitals. F18 accident. Wholesome read.

Word Count: 3k

Author Note: I was just feeling some fluffy Bob content and I thought this would be a good way to break up the tension with all my over dramatic angst/whump. Thank you so much to @a-reader-and-a-writer for beta reading this for me! Vee did gods work with this one.

Main Masterlist | Bob Floyd Masterlist

No significant other wants to receive that call. That dreaded call that tells you that the inevitable has happened. That phone call that sucks all the air from your lungs and replaces it with cement. The very phone call that alters your perception of life, of time, of all the small arguments you ever had with the person you love so dearly. It's the phone call no significant other wants to receive. 

“Is this Mrs Floyd?” The man on the other end of the line asked with a cautiousness that told you he really didn't want the answer to be yes. Your daughter, Millicent, sat in her high chair smashing bananas all over the surface of her tray. Getting to know the texture of the latest solid you had introduced her to. 

“This is she? May I ask who's speaking?” You didn't mean to come across as defensive, but the panic inside your chest had well and truly begun to bloom. Your eyes lingered over to the pair of spare reading glasses your husband left lying around the small apartment the two of you and your young daughter had been staying in. If this was the phone call, the very phone call that was about to alter your life forever you couldn't help but to think of the last time you saw your husband wear those frames. 

“Mrs Floyd, Y/n, my name is Pete Mitchell, Captain Mitchell, or Just Mav will do–” The man on the other end of the line rambled off the list of names he went by. You didn't care all that much, but you let him go on. Your eyes drifted back toward your daughter, the very embodiment of half you and half your husband. Robert Floyd. In your mind, you prayed to whatever god was listening that this wouldn't be the phone call every military spouse dreaded. 

“There was an accident during a training exercise your husband was involved in this morning.” The words all sounded broken and inaudible, all but the few key details.

‘Husband’ ‘Involved’ ‘Accident’ 

“Is he–” Mav knew what the question was going to be, so he gave you no chance to ask, he wanted to be the one to call, he wanted to be the one to tell you that although your husband had been involved in a training accident, he was still in one piece and very much alive. 

“He's alive, still very much in one piece ma’am–” Mav caught himself smiling ever so slightly, despite the looming knowledge in the back of his mind that the situation could have been a lot worse. “They want to keep him overnight for observation, so if you'd like to come in and see him, I'm sure Bob would really appreciate it.” 

The sigh that left your body, the shock that overwhelmed you, the tears that stained your cheek you weren't aware were there all told you one thing—you couldn't live without your husband. 

“O–okay.” You nodded to yourself as if the man on the other end of the line could see you. “Y-yes, I’ll, uh, just get our daughter sorted and I'll be right in.” 

It was then Maverick’s turn to sit in the deafening silence that threatened to consume his entire being. Bob had a daughter? That added a whole other layer to the incident he hadn’t accounted for. 

Bob kept that card close to his chest, his daughter, Mille, was his pride and joy. 

“Try to keep in mind he's okay Mrs Floyd,. Your husband’s a very skilled weapons system officer and his training truly saved his life today.” You hadn’t taken your eyes off your daughter since you remembered how to breathe as you stood in the middle of the small apartment kitchen. She was so innocent, so young, so mesmerised by her dad that she would have known something was wrong if he didn't come home. 

“It's never been my husband's ability that I doubt, Captain Mitchell.” You replied as you wiped away your tears and reached for a sponge to go about cleaning up your daughter's high chair mess. “It's the system he works for that keeps me up at night.” 

***~***~***~***~***~

Jake Seresin had never been so relieved when he was told that both Bob and Phoenix were alright and almost injury-free. Phoenix had a few bumps and bruises, a minor cut on her forearm, and a minor concussion that would surely see her grounded for a week at the minimum. 

Bob was the same, only his ribs had taken a pretty nasty beating when he hit the ground with an unprecedented amount of force. Still, the usually arrogant, somewhat self-loathing, and above all infuriatingly good aviator wasn't about to say how relieved he truly was. 

But he did, however, offer to take Phoenix some personal belongings for her overnight stay in the chateau short-stay ward of the Miramar Base Hospital. 

“Just hold on a minute, sweetheart!” 

Jake didn't mean to stick his nose where it didn't belong, but the ear-piercing cries of a child that couldn't have been any older than one broke him out of his mid-afternoon trance. The carpark at the Base hospital was packed to the rafters, but surely there would have been a parent’s park closer to the entrance? 

Jake wished with every fibre of his being that he could have kept walking, he wished he just could have kept putting one foot in front of the other. But his mother raised him right. With a heavy sigh and a regret deep in his chest, Jake doubled back a few paces and turned his attention to the woman struggling to get up the stroller. 

“Ma’am, I hate to be a bother but do you need a hand?” 

“Me?” You turned around to address the man who’d been the only person to stop while others had walked right on past and whispered under their breath. Some had even stopped to watch, but no one had offered a hand. “Yes, yes please I just need someone to–” 

Assessing the situation, Jake was sure he knew what the issue was. 

Within a few seconds of you trying to explain what was wrong, the man who’d stopped to help had placed the bag he was carrying over his shoulder down onto the ground and stepped hard onto the safety that was jammed. 

“How did you know to do that?” You asked with a look of disbelief as you immediately raced around to grab your daughter out of the car. She was distraught. “Shhh, I’m here, see I told you just a few minutes, didn't I baby?” You tried your best to soothe the crying tot. 

“My sister has the same stroller, gets jammed all the time.” the man smiled politely as he stood by the now perfectly erected stroller. “Jake, Jake Seresin.” 

“I recognise the callsign–” You replied when you finally allowed yourself to take in what the man was wearing. The same Nomex flight suit your husband frequented more often than not. “Yeah, Hangman, you work with my husband.” You beamed as you bounced your daughter softly until she was calm enough to be placed into her stroller. 

Jake was racking his brain trying to figure out who the hell your husband was. He thought he knew everything about everyone he worked with. From the secrets Rooster tried to keep to the fact Payback had a raging nut allergy. BuUt a wife and child? Who the hell had a wife and child and hadn’t bothered to mention it? 

“I work with your husband?” Jake repeated back to you like he was still trying to play catch up. “Sorry, I must be having a mind blank, with all due respect to your husband.” 

“Bob Floyd?” You mentioned your husband's name like it was honey on your tastebuds. Jake truly couldn't compute what you were saying. Bob fucking Floyd was married? Bob Floyd had a kid!? “He had a training accident earlier today with his front seater, scared the absolute hell out of me.” You tried to laugh, but you weren't about to mention to Jake that you'd spent the better half of forty-five minutes in the shower with your daughter having a full-blown panic attack after Mav had called. 

“You're Bob's wife?” Jake asked with a frown that was so deeply indeed on his forehead you truly weren’t sure what was so wrong about the fact you were Bob's wife. “Bob has a wife?” As you clipped your daughter in, Jake picked up the bag he’d been carrying up to the entrance of the hospital before he stopped to help you. 

“Together seven, married for three.” You proudly smiled as you started walking your daughter’s stroller towards the hospital. Jake kept himself in line, walking by your side as he tried to compute the information he was being delivered. “Bob’s a pretty private person, please don't be offended if he didn't tell you we existed.” This wasn't the first time and you knew it wouldn't be the last time you were left to explain that yes, your husband was in fact your husband. 

The chuckle that left Jake's mouth told you it wasn't about being offended. 

“No Ma'am, no offence taken–” He explained through the shit- eating grin. “I just wasn't aware Bob had it in him is all.” The idea Bob had a wife was an easier pill to swallow than Bob having a whole ass child. In Jake's mind, Bob was far too ill-equipped to know how to use what he had. Or at least that was the rough opinion he had of the wallflower-esk weapons system officer. “But it's nice to know the guys got a family.” 

“He does, he’s got us–” You couldn't help it when your eyes welled with tears. “Isn't that right, Millie girl?” 

Jake had never stopped to wonder what the loves of his coworkers were like. Sure, he knew Phoenix and Rooster prior to their return to TopGun, but never once had he stopped to think if Bob had a family. 

“He’s a real lucky guy.” Jake confirmed as he walked with you. “Gorgeous wife, cute kid, I'm sure he’s gonna be really happy to see you after the day he’s had.” 

***~***~***~***~***~

In all the time Bob had flown for the United State Navy, this had been his closest call with death. The bed sheets that covered the small hospital bed scratched at his exposed skin. The paper-thin hospital gown that now adorned his body left little to the imagination if he stood. 

The very last person Bob expected to see enter his hospital room was Jake Seresin. Bob thought he was having an all-out nightmare when the cock-sure aviator walked in with a shit-eating grin as wide as his cheeks would allow him. 

“No–no absolutely not.” Bob shook his head in utter disbelief. “You don't get to come in here and give me shit after I fell hundreds of metres out of the sky.” It had been a rough day to say the very least and all Bob wanted more than anything else in the entire world was to hug you and his baby girl. “Hangman, I'm so serious right now–” Bob pressed as Jake stood with a proud chest and that smug ass grin by the door of his hospital room, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. 

“You know, that's no way to talk to the man who saved your damsel in distress wife in the carpark–” Jake replied as you rounded the corner and pushed your daughter’s stroller into the hospital room. “Funny, I don't think any of us knew you were married, Floyd.” 

Bob's demeanour immediately softened as you made your way over with tears of mixed emotions welling in your eyes. Bob’s eyes mimicked yours, those baby blue eyes were quick to fill with clear but heavy tears as you sat on his bedside. 

“I'll leave you guys alone.” Jake knew when to leave a room, and he had someone else to go see after all. Phoenix, probably the only woman on the planet who could keep his ego from inflating to new heights. “Put some WD40 on the safety of your daughter's stroller too. It's starting to lock up–” Jake made sure to tell Bob before he left the room, still carrying the bag full of Natasha’s personal belongings he promised he would hand deliver. Bob's precious cargo however, the family that loved him to the moon and back and three times over, seemed like a more pressing delivery to complete first. 

“Bob–” Your hands were on your husband's cheeks the second Bob leaned in to kiss your lips ever so tenderly. The pads of your thumbs worked to wipe away the tears that spilled over his lower lash line, staining his cheeks with a salty layer of tears. “What on earth am I gonna do with you, hey?” You smiled through the kiss, speaking against your husband's supplye lips as he tried to keep his composure. “Falling from the sky like that? You scared me half to death.” 

“I’m sorry–” It was the first thing Bob was able to muster as you pulled away and reached down for your little girl. “I'm so sorry. Phoenix got us out of a pretty rough spot, she's the reason I'm still here.” 

You’d never met the woman who was currently flying with the love of your life, but you had to trust her. There was no room to not to. 

“Someone was enjoying her banana mush when Captain Mitchell called.” You explained as you picked up your daughter and handed her to Bob who was waisting with open arms and bright eyes. He was so relieved to be able to hold his daughter again, you could see that much as clear as day. “Isn't that right Millie, yeah–yeah, Dad really threw a spanner in the works, didn't he?” 

“Hey, baby girl.” Bob mumbled into the crook of his little girl's neck as he held her close to his chest. The burn in his ribs was worth it as she used his thighs as a stable surface to tiptoe on. “Oh my goodness, I can't even begin to explain how much I love you both.” 

“We love you so much.” You leaned in once again to kiss your husband's lips. “I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. You don't get to scare me like this again, okay?” 

Bob knew that you knew he couldn't promise you that, that was the worst part. He knew this could happen again and possibly be a worse outcome than this. But Bob also knew you needed reassurance he was here, that he was safe and that he wasn't going anywhere. 

Death himself would have to drag him down to hell kicking and screaming before he ever left you. 

“I'm not going anywhere baby, not now, not ever.” Bob cooed as he kissed you back, thankful he got to come home to his girls after such a life-threatening accident. The WSO knew he would have to see a shrink before getting in the cockpit again. How he was going to explain away the nightmares of leaving his wife a widow and his daughter fatherless he’d never know. “I’m here, I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere.” 

“Phoenix, I don't think you're supposed to be walking?” Jake's voice echoed down the hall as you and Bob looked towards the door of his hospital room. There, in the doorway, stood Natasha Trace with wide eyes and shocked horror written all over her face. It was clear to you at that moment that Bob hadn’t told her either, Bob hadn’t told anyone about you or his daughter. You were the two closest cards he kept close to his chest. 

“You have a family!?” Phoenix asked almost as if the answer was unclear. “Bob, you have a family and didn't tell me? Didn't tell any of us?” There was a rhyme to Bob's reasoning as to why he kept the two of you a secret. Bob just wanted something all for himself. He liked to keep his work life and private life as separate as possible. The Navy could be all-consuming on its best days, coming home to you and knowing not a single person could interrupt or stop by was simply the best version of heaven neither Bob could ever think of. 

He just wanted his family all to himself, something the Navy couldn't control, couldn't touch, couldn't taint. 

“Nix, this is my wife, Y/n, and my daughter Millicent.” Bob introduced the pair of you softly. “My best girls. “My whole world is in these two.” 

You sent the clearly distressed aviator a simple smile and a soft wave as you stood from your husband’s beside. You understood this was a lot for her to take in. The idea that her WSo had more to lose than she ever thought. 

“I'm still getting over the fact you have a daughter.” Jake interrupted from behind Phoenix as you walked closer to where she stood to take her in a warm embrace. 

“Jealousy is a disease, Seresin, I can tell you exactly how I made my daughter too if you want?” Bob held his daughter in hips lap as she babbled to herself as he helped her stand on her feet. She wasn’t walking yet, not even close. But she loved to stand. 

“My husband tells me you’re the reason he's still alive.” You spoke to Natasha like she deserved to be told this accident wasn't her fault. It could have happened to anyone. It shouldn't have happened to your husband and his front seater, but that was the luck of the draw–and you were blatantly aware it could have been much, much worse. 

“So, thank you for making sure he gets to come home another night.”

***~***~***~***~***~

Ok but this hits home way too much 😭😭 like I'm actually crying. My dad in freshman year of highschool, helped me buy my first car which was my truck, a tan 1989 f-150, named spirit. We drove from Southern Wisconsin all the way to Idaho during spring break to get it. It took us 5 days. It was so expensive driving out there and Wyoming kept closing the roads because of so much snow. That man spent so much of his time and money rebuilding it just for me and I love the thing to death. He bought me everything I wanted to put on the truck just short of a new paint job. I had expensive bumpers, a spare engine, tires, KC headlights, a roll bar, and even new interior parts that cost fortunes. Honestly this seriously brings me to tears. I hope I find as good of a man as my father, one that's willing to do these things for me just because he loves me. Cause God only knows that cars are the way to my heart. Thank you so much for writing this, your work is a god send as always. I'm gonna go sit and cry for a bit, maybe even call my dad and tell him how much I love him 😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️

To anyone who reads this reblog, def go read the actual story, it's amazing 👏

Vintage | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You love teasing your husband about his deep and unwavering devotion to his Bronco, but he's insistent that it would come in second place to you every time, and he intends to prove it. While you're away on deployment, he concocts a plan to get you behind the wheel of your very own vintage beauty.

Warnings: Swears, fluff, mentions of smut

Length: 2700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

"Sometimes I swear you love that thing more than you love me."

Your voice startled Bradley as he ran the wet, soapy sponge along the hood of his vintage Ford Bronco, pulling him from his thoughts. That was something you frequently said to him, jokingly claiming that you were the second love of his life. But you both knew it wasn't true. Especially not tonight.

"Hey, Baby," he whispered, coaxing you closer to him as he tossed the sponge back into the bucket. "Come here."

The setting sun painted your face with orange and gold, and he noticed the sadness in your eyes. He quickly wiped his hands on his jeans and then held them out to you, and you were in his arms in an instant. "Bradley," you mumbled against his chest as he squeezed you, getting your shirt a little damp in the process. But you didn't seem to mind. "I'm going to miss you."

Detailing and cleaning what used to be his dad's 1973 Bronco had become a way for him to relieve stress. He would get out the soap and turn on the hose when he needed a few minutes to himself. It was easier to be alone in his head, processing his thoughts and worries when he was washing the light blue masterpiece he'd spent so many years and a lot of money preserving. He always found himself in a better headspace to deal with whatever was troubling him when he spent some time with the Bronco. And today was no exception. 

"I'm going to miss you, too."

Sometimes it felt like the nearly five years you and he had been married were just spent alternating deployments. First he would be gone on an aircraft carrier for months on end, and then it would be your turn. You'd be sent abroad with the Navy before returning to him, and then the cycle would begin anew. Everything felt harder when you weren't around, and maybe that's why Bradley was out on the driveway right now instead of helping you pack for your early call time tomorrow morning. 

With your cheek pressed to his sternum, you cried softly. "It's only two months this time. And I'll have access to my phone. And I'll even be home in time for our anniversary. I don't know why I'm feeling so emotional about this."

He pressed his lips to your hair and whispered, "It's not like it gets any easier. You know that. I know that. It's going to feel like two months of hell on my end."

You sniffed hard then looked up at him with a little smirk. "At least you'll have the Bronco to keep you warm."

Bradley groaned and started to walk you backwards toward the house. "I mean, she's pretty and all, and I've definitely spent a night or two curled up around her gear shift, but I never gave her a diamond ring."

Your lips and your soft laughter against his neck sent a jolt of physical pleasure through his body, but he didn't want to rush this. He needed this to last, to hold him over for two months without your touch. Both of you tripped along to the bedroom where he smiled and whispered, "Let me show you that you're my number one girl. Let me prove you always will be."

Bradley was meticulous. He knew every inch of his Bronco, inside and out, but he knew you better. The sounds you made were prettier. The way you clung to him as he brought you pleasure was unparalleled. Your fingers laced with his as he connected his body with yours in the most intimate way, and it left him breathless.

"I love you."

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

Two days. He'd only been alone for two days, and he was already halfway through binge watching a season of a show that wasn't even that interesting. When he got home from work, he eyed up the couch and TV before ultimately changing into some sweats and heading back out to the driveway. He looked over the Bronco from hood to taillights, making a mental list of what she needed: new wiper blades, two new tires, and an oil change.

When he took his phone out to order the parts from his favorite website, he must have typed something wrong. It rerouted him to a vintage Ford resale page that left him staring at a sage green 1975 Bronco in rough condition. Man, she was still pretty though, with her original chrome and hubcaps. She was just an hour away, and the price wasn't too bad...

He glanced up at the blue gem in front of him. An idea started to take shape. He wondered how you would feel about it. With a smile, he ordered the wiper blades and oil filter that he needed and went inside to make dinner. But he couldn't stop picturing that chipped, green paint, and the vinyl that needed to be patched. 

If he knew he could get you hooked on a Bronco of your very own, he'd make this purchase. Two months to go. Shit, he might have just enough time to pull this off. He could practically picture you cranking the engine to life and waving goodbye as you pulled out of the driveway and took your Bronco for a spin. He wouldn't be able to say it with a straight face, but he'd say it anyway. "You love that thing more than you love me, Baby."

When he was stretched out on your side of the bed later that night, enveloped in your sweet scent that clung to the pillows, he closed his eyes and thought long and hard about what he wanted to do. It would be fun to prove to you once and for all where his loyalties lie. Or maybe it could just be a project that would keep him busy, and if you didn't like the idea, he could resell it after you got home. Either way, he drifted to sleep as he thought about you behind the wheel, and he knew it was too perfect to pass up.

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

"Hey, Baby," Bradley said with a smirk as he answered his phone.

"Bradley! I miss you like crazy!"

"I miss you, too," he promised as he looked at the rather beat up, green Bronco before him. He got it for a great price when he offered to pay cash, and the tow truck just dropped it off a few days ago. Half of the engine was taken apart on a tarp at his feet, and it was currently jacked up so he could replace the oil pan. But he thought it was gorgeous. "I have a little surprise for you when you get home."

"A surprise?! Tell me. You know I can't wait that long."

"Nah," he said, kneeling down to check the wiring for the headlights. "I think I'll make you wait this one out."

"Rooster!"

"What?" he laughed, wedging the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he slipped his work gloves on and pulled at the loose wire. "You know, this is what you get for always giving me a hard time about my dad's Bronco. I love you so much, Baby, I'll make you wait for the surprise. It'll be sweeter that way."

"You're the worst," you groaned playfully. "Now I'll be thinking about what it could possibly be the whole time I'm gone. I'll be wondering what you have up your sleeve."

"As long as you're thinking about me, I'm happy," he rasped, and your pretty sigh in response left him a little breathless.

"I'm always thinking about you. Promise me as soon as I get back, we'll go for a long drive? Up along the coast? Late at night?"

He loved that idea. It would just look a little different than you were probably imagining if he could get this thing up and running again in time for your return. "We'll make a night of it," he promised. "I'll pack some blankets, and we can sit in the back and look out at the ocean. Can't guarantee I'll be able to keep my hands to myself though."

"Mmm. That's what I'm counting on."

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

After about two weeks of watching a lot of YouTube videos posted by professionals, Bradley finally had the engine rebuilt. He was just waiting for some parts to arrive before he could put it back in place. "You're a needy one, aren't you?" he asked the green Bronco. "Nothing like her. She's a saint." He nodded his head toward the blue one before kneeling to replace the taillights. 

He was quickly realizing that the money he saved on the cost of the actual vehicle was being eaten up in the expensive, vintage parts. He was lucky he knew how to do most of this himself, even if it took twice as long. Today he was replacing the brakes and listening to a Motown playlist, and he fully realized that he felt calmest when he was with you or a Bronco. He snorted at how ridiculous that fact was as he scooted under the vehicle, but it was true. And having you tucked away in the back with the tailgate dropped, all wrapped up in a blanket while you turned him on just by existing.... well, that's when he would be happiest of all.

As the weeks wore on and the project progressed, the day finally arrived when it was time to try to start her up and take her for a little drive. Everything smelled like new rubber from the tires he'd just put on. The vinyl seats were still in bad shape, but when he slipped the key into the ignition and turned it, the engine purred to life.

Bradley's head tipped back as he groaned softly. "So fucking pretty. My god." He tapped the accelerator gently with his foot, enjoying the rev of the engine. He smoothed his hands along the steering wheel and the dashboard before he adjusted the rear view mirror to accommodate his height. Then he flicked the chrome switch and turned on the radio which he was surprised still worked.

My Girl by the Temptations poured from the speakers as the station crackled to life, and that felt like a very good sign. "Let's get out of here, Sweetheart," he whispered before shifting into reverse and leaving the driveway and his toolbox behind.

She was smooth and steady and everything he was hoping for. Would it ever fully compete with Goose's Bronco? Probably not. Was it worth the investment anyway? He'd find out next week when you got home. There were just a few things left to do before he dropped it off to be repainted and have the interior patched, and then she'd be good as new.

Bradley's phone rang in his pocket, and he smiled when he saw it was you. "Hey, Baby."

"Bradley! I miss you so much. I swear, if this thing was longer than two months, I wouldn't make it. What are you up to?"

"Oh, I'm just out for a little drive."

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

After eight weeks of nothing more than a few scant phone calls, Bradley was more than ready to have you home again. Maybe you and he could take a few days off from work. He'd help you catch up on some sleep after initially keeping you up all night. He already had some blankets ready to go as soon as you said you wanted to drive up to Carlsbad and watch the surfers at sunset before making love in the back of your Bronco.

Your Bronco. His wife's Bronco. It would take some getting used to, but it already made him smile every time he thought about it. With his hands on that familiar steering wheel, he drove toward the Naval base where both of you spent so much of your time. He waited, leaning against the light blue hood until you came running toward him in your uniform with your bags.

"Bradley!" you shrieked as you landed in his arms where you belonged. 

"I missed you," he promised, finally kissing your lips again after so many weeks. He felt your bag hit his foot, and he smiled as he tilted your face up for better access to your mouth.

"I missed you, too," you moaned softly, and he was already making the move to get you back home and remind you what you meant to him. But you dug your feet in outside the passenger door. 

"Where's my surprise?" you asked as you tucked your fingers into the top of his jeans and grinned up at him. "I've been thinking about it nonstop. Is it you?"

"No," he replied with a chuckle as his gaze drifted toward the Bronco. "You'll see soon enough."

You glanced at where he was looking, and you rolled your eyes before kissing his chin. "Did she keep you company while I was gone? She looks pristine, like you spend some time working on her."

Bradley kissed your forehead. "Just get in, Baby," he rasped. "The sooner we get home, the sooner your little surprise will make sense."

He knew the routine by heart now. The short ride home would start out with you holding his right hand and playing with his fingers while he drove. Then your hand would migrate to his thigh when the Bronco was about five blocks away. Then as soon as the tires touched the driveway, you'd unbuckle your seatbelt and make your way over to his lap.

The routine was important to him. He loved it. He loved taking you inside and directly to bed before coming back out much later to get the bags. He thrived on the return to normal life that was triggered by the routine. But today, he knew you weren't going to end up on his lap, and that was more than okay.

When your hand settled on his thigh exactly five blocks away from home, Bradley smiled. Your fingers crept up inch by inch as you leaned closer and whispered in his ear that you had their fifth wedding anniversary all planned out for the following weekend. You were playing with the zipper of his jeans by the time he could see the house, and he just waited for it. He was not disappointed.

"What the fuck is that?" you gasped, both hands going to the dashboard in front of you as you leaned to check out the freshly painted green Bronco as he coasted into the driveway. "Bradley?" you asked, glancing at him with wide eyes as he shifted into park.

He smiled and leaned over to kiss your softly parted lips. "This is your surprise. You're always joking about how much I love my Bronco, but I'll never love anything more than I love you."

You pressed your lips to his once before pulling away, shaking your head slightly. "So you got me one of my own?" you asked, jerking your thumb toward the green one.

He nodded and pulled his key from the ignition before pressing it into your palm. "Yep. She's all yours."

"Wait," you whispered, your brow creasing in confusion as you looked down at your hand. "This is your key."

"No, it's your key. The key to the green one is in the house. That's my key."

You gaped at him as your eyebrows shot upwards. "You're giving me your Bronco?"

"Yep."

"But," you whispered, turning to look out the window, "I can drive the other one."

"No, I bought the green one with myself in mind," he replied, taking your chin gently in his hand so you were looking at him again. "This one's better. She's sweet. Like you. She's yours."

"Oh my god, Bradley."

He was wrong; you did end up in his lap. Right where you belonged. His hands settled at your hips as you kissed every inch of his face while he laughed.

"I want to take her for a spin," you whispered, nudging him out of the driver's seat with your knee. "Go."

He smiled as he walked around to the passenger side of the blue Bronco, and he barely had the door closed before you started the engine and shifted into gear. "Pretty soon you'll love this thing more than you love me, Baby."

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

He gave you his Bronco. The green one was for him. That's how you know he loves you. I hope they do some nasty shit in the green one to break it in. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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Top Gun!

Because I was bored during this stormy evening and @accio-baqat gave me the idea for this wallpaper. I know Goran loves flying and he loves aircrafts and so do I, and I'm a big fan of Top Gun... I thought it would be cool to make a wallpaper out of it!

I mean, you agree with me that Goran would rock in a Top Gun Movie? 😁

The HD version is available HERE feel free to save it and use it as a wallpaper on your computer or tablet haha!

mr steal your girl x3