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roadtogracelandx45 · 15 days

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Among Angels|1| Rooster x Hangman x OC

masterlist

@prettyinpayne

North Island

Bianca Kazansky-Seresin heaved a heavy sigh as she parked her jeep in front of the small on-base house she and her husband Jake were assigned to, she had flown all night from DC where she was on special assignment with JAG and NCIS to San Diego to return to Top Gun for a mission, that for once her father, who served as the Commander of the Pacific Fleet wouldn't spill the beans on. All he said was that Jake and their two best friends from the academy Javy Machado and Natasha Trace were recalled as well.

And nothing else and it worried her. He had always been able to tell her certain things about her assignments. Her phone beeped several times in the cup holder causing her to shake her head and look down at the screen.

Her husband who had arrived before her had gone to Top Deck to get drinks with Javy and was expecting her to be there soon. She laughed and typed out a reply before gathering her bags from the passenger seat and going up to the house.

The windows in the living room were open and the front door was open behind the screen.

"The fuck Jake?" She muttered as she fumbled with her keys to get her pepper spray ready to use, "Hello?"

A strong familiar hey came from the hallway as her estranged lover Bradley Bradshaw came into view.

"Bradley? What the fuck are you doing here?" She asked stepping into the house, her fear replaced by anger.

"Bee, I can explain." "You can explain?! You swore up and down and on your parents' graves you would never leave me and you did."

He held up his hands in defense, "I can explain if you just listen." Bianca scowled and crossed her arms under her chest, "You have 5 minutes, Bradshaw, and if I don't like what you are saying, I am going to throw you out on your ass and call the MPs on you."

The older Bradshaw nodded his head in agreement, he knew Bianca would call the MPs on him. She had been 13 when she called them on Maverick after he had gotten into a fight with not him but Ice.

He stepped forward and went to put his hands on her forearms but she took a step back. "Talk." She ordered.

"Jake was right." He started shifting his position, every part of him was crying out to take her into his arms and hold her but he knew better. "I was scared of making that jump, that commitment to him. To you. Every time I talked myself into asking you to marry me, I chickened out and went back onto my perch."

A strangled coughing laugh escaped her and she quickly lowered her eyes, 'I would expect that bullshit excuse from Maverick, Bradley, not you. You are more of a man than he is. Tell me the truth after everything we have been through, I deserve at least that."

"I know and I am sorry Bianca, I am, I have regretted it every single day since I left you two at the Ranch. I let my fears and hurt take over and control my actions." He took tentative steps towards her, "For years, you are the only one that I ever thought of."

Unwillingly, Bianca raised her eyes to meet his dark ones. "I had made up my mind when I got on the plane to come out here to take you to your junior prom, that I was going to make you mine, regardless of Roger." He went on, his feet carrying him towards her, "I knew you were meant to be with me. And then you met Jake at the academy."

"It was love at first sight for you too Bradley, and don't tell me it wasn't. I saw how you two were when you came up to get me on Christmas Break. And he showed me the texts when we got back on campus."

His mouth twitched like he wanted to offer up excuses.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. I was just as guilty as you. Jake has that ability. That doesn't explain why you left us like that. It destroyed us." Her eyes searched his, "It felt like we lost a part of us. A huge part of us. It took us almost a year to bounce back."

Feeling encouraged by the constant eye contact, he stepped forward and finally pulled her into him. "I am sorry, I am more like Maverick than I thought. I was scared of losing you for good to Jake and losing him in general. We almost lost each other when you went down in flight school."

"Don't talk about that." She mumbled, she hated that her plane going down in the jet stream in flight school got brought up and how they all blamed Jake for leaving her. Yes, she understood why everyone was upset, she was upset too but she found it in her heart to forgive him because she couldn't be away from him. He looked like a sad puppy standing outside of their shared townhouse and she couldn't help herself. It caused the first major fight that she and Bradley ever had. But in the end, he understood and for the most part, felt the same way.

"It's true though B, you went down, what if you couldn't eject like my dad? You could have broken your neck and died in the water."

"Hey, hey Bradley, baby.' She commented, grasping a hold of him and pulling him into her. "I am here, I am okay."

He pulled her into him tighter, trying to get rid of that fear that had risen up.

While she was working in DC and had access to the records. She wanted to see what happened with the accident that claimed Goose's life and drove Maverick away and what happened to Duke Mitchell.

The grandfather that she never knew. For herself but now that information was going to the grave with her.

"The only way you will lose me is if you push me away again, you already pushed me away once, you aren't going to do that again. Other than Jake, Papa, and Teej, you are the most important man in my life."

He nodded his head and pressed his forehead against hers, "I am so sorry."

She laughed softly, her heart making up its mind for everything else, "Bradley, take me to bed."

Jake was growing steadily impatient, he had texted his wife over an hour ago to come to the bar but she had yet to come or reply to his message. She must have laid down in bed and fallen asleep, it was a long flight from DC to San Diego and he knew that she was ushered up to Iceman's house to see him and the younger Kazansky.

Father and brother came first, and husband came last, especially when the father was the Commander of the Pacific fleet. And a lot of the time he was okay with it because they were normally deployed together and had endless time together.

"Still no reply from the wife?" Javy asked as he handed him the darts.

"No, she probably fell asleep.' He returned before glancing at the bar feeling the eyes on him, the older man sitting at the bar looked familiar, but he just couldn't put his finger on where he had seen him before, his train of thought was cut off by his phone going off repeatedly in his pocket, he pulled it out and looked at the screen.

On it was a series of messages from Bradley Bradshaw.

"The fuck?" He muttered while sliding to unlock his phone, on the screen, were pictures of his wife and the man himself in various states of undress.

"What?" Javy asked leaning over to look at the screen causing the blonde man to lock the screen. Yes at one point in time Javy had seen Bianca naked but that was when they were in the academy and drunk as sin times were different, they were married and there had only been one man that he ever would share his wife with and it looked like he was back in their lives. And he wasn't sure how to feel about it. Like Bianca, he had mourned the loss of Bradley in their relationship and it felt like they had some sort of peace now and this was going to turn everything on its head again.

"Bianca," He started, "I was right, she laid down and fell asleep, she will be in soon." He slipped his phone back into his pocket and willed himself not to think about what Bradley was doing to his wife right now. It would come later when they were back in their small house.

"Bianca is back too." Ellie commented as she joined Penny's side, "She is coming in soon."

Maverick almost knocked his beer over, it had been a surprise when he had seen her picture up on the screen next to Bradley's, with a hyphenated last name on her uniform and her own stats up. He knew that she was as good as him and Ice but not that good.

He had always thought that she belonged behind a desk like Ellie did at JAG or like Maggie did at the commander's office. But Bianca was too much like Ice and too much like him to be at a desk.

"Did she get married?" The two blondes behind the bar exchanged a look and then glanced at the blond man who was now shooting pool.

"She got married over a year ago, she has been with Jake since the academy days," Ellie answered twisting the towel in her hands around, she had been a part of the wedding party and walked down the aisle with Bradley and hoped against all hope that he would truly be with after the wedding and for the first few days after he broke it off, he was. But just like that he was gone.

And she was left to pick up the pieces of her broken heart.

"What happened to her and Bradley?''

"That's something that you are going to have to talk to her about Dad." She answered before inclining her head to Natasha and the other two pilots that were behind him.

'Well, what do we have here Coyote?!' Jake's voice rang out, "If it ain't Phoenix."

"I don't know what she sees in him," Ellie complained like Natasha couldn't figure out why her sister loved the cocky man.

"I do, he is a lot like Ice when he was younger and a lot like Pete." Penny returned before turning back to where Jake was standing at the bar ordering more beers and Redbull and Vodka for his wife who had messaged him again to tell him they would be there soon.

Bradley grasped Bianca's wrist in his hand and pulled her to the driver's side of the Bronco, he wasn't about to let her go, not when he just got her back. "We have to keep this undercover until you and Jake work this out. Then I am all yours." "Fine.' He huffed before kissing her deeply causing her to whine. "Let's make this quick." He helped her out of the Bronco and started steering her towards the building.

Their eyes found Jake at the same time surrounded by girls.

'Bradshaw is that you!" Natasha's voice called from the pool table.

"Go, I am going to see him." She returned standing up on her toes and pressing a kiss to his cheek before starting to go over to her husband's side, pausing briefly when she saw Maverick sitting on the other side of the bar by himself nursing a beer.

Shaking it off, she slipped through the other patrons to her husband's side.

"Hey, you.' She greeted Jake, causing him to turn around and smile, "Hey." He smirked, winding his arm around her waist and pulling her into him. "Have fun?"

"All the fun." She returned, "Missed you though."

"All of me?"

"All of you." She confirmed as he leaned in and kissed her, groaning slightly at the familiar taste of Bradley in her mouth.

"Bianca." Maverick's voice came pulling the two apart.

"Do you know him?" Jake asked, looking between his wife and the older pilot.

"No, I think he went to Top Gun with the Commander though." She answered.

"Hi, Penny." She leaned across the bar and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Ever since Charlie and Carole passed away, Penny and Sarah, the Kazansky's next-door neighbor, stepped in to help Mother Bianca in any way possible.

To the point where Penny and Sarah were de facto Mothers of the Bride and Amelia served as a junior bridesmaid at Bianca and Jake's wedding the year before.

"Good to see Bee, is everything good with Ice and Little Ice?" The bar owner asked holding the cocktail glass out.

"Good, Tommy is growing like a weed." She answered as Jake's fingers traced a pattern across the silver of skin that was visible between the tank top and jean shorts that she had put on. "I almost had to spend the night up there. He didn't want sissy to go.'

Maverick and Ellie didn't miss the proud tone in Bianca's voice, the older Kazansky sibling had been in her second year at the academy when Ice had gotten a surrogate and had Tommy. She had been so excited to have a sibling that was fully hers and she didn't have to fight for Ice's attention. Turning her attention back to her husband, "I did permission to take him up after this is over. Papa can't do it."

"Why can't he?" Maverick cut in as Bianca picked up her glass but his daughter never turned her attention to him.

Jake smirked, ever since the younger Kazansky was old enough to walk, it had been discussed who would take him up since the Navy and Bianca would never let Ice fly again after he got sick with throat cancer. He and Bradley both knew it was going to be Bianca but it still didn't stop them trying to get little Ice on their side.

Picking up on how uncomfortable she was getting, Jake gathered the beer bottles off of the bar, "Much appreciated, Pops." "Thanks, Pops." She echoed before letting Jake lead her back towards the jukebox.

"Go say hi to Trace before she loses her mind." He muttered, "I will be over in a minute." She nodded her head before slipping away from him and over to where her best friend was.

"It's about time you get over here," Natasha complained moving the pool stick to the other hand so she could hug her. 'Sorry, you know how Jake gets when I don't see him first.' Bianca returned, "He was already going to come undone that I didn't come right here."

"I can see why." The dark-haired girl teased her eyes picking out the love bites and hickeys that were littering the shorter girl's neck and collar bone, 'Have fun with Bradshaw?"

"I don't kiss and tell, Nat. You know that." She returned as Javy came over and kissed her cheek in greeting, "Good to see you, Bee."

"You too Jay." She returned, "I actually missed your ugly mug."

"Bradshaw as I live and breathe.”

"Hangman," Bradley returned looking him up and down, "You look good."

" Well I am good Rooster, I'm very good. In fact I am too good to be true."

Bianca groaned and dropped her chin down, this was just like her husband to do this. It was always who had the bigger dick between Bradley and him.

"They don't change, do they?" Natasha whispered as she shook her head.

"Not at all. But I wouldn't have them any other way."

"So," Started the man that was sitting behind Bianca and Natasha, "Anyone know what this special detachment is all about?"

Most eyes turned to Bianca who shrugged her shoulders, "The Commander was mum about it."

"A mission's a mission, they don't confront me." Jake started as he rounded the pool table, what I wanna know who is going to be team leader. And which one of y'all has what it takes to follow me?"

"Shut up." She hissed under her breath looking between her husband and Bradley, things always happened like this.

"Hangman the only place you will lead anyone is to an early grave." Bradley shot.

"God damn it.'

"Bee." Natasha turned to her friend, worried, normally she would just let them go but something was different this time.

"I am fine." She returned, and she wasn't fine, she had found out while she was visiting her father that his cancer could be returning and that he wanted to go over his will with her and with Ellie. And then seeing Bradley for the first time in over a year and her father for the first time in almost 3 was a lot.

"Well, anyone who follows you is just going to run out of fuel. But that's just you, ain't it, Rooster?"

"Jake, stop it," Bianca warned.

"Just waiting for the right moment that never comes." Annoyed and hurt, Bianca went around her friend towards the bathroom. "I love this song." His voice carried as he followed his wife.

"Bianca, stop."

"Why do you have to do that every single time we are together, Jake?" She shot as she span around to face him,

"You always have to get those digs in."

"It was harmless, baby, really." He returned, stepping towards her. 'Nothing you do is harmless. Especially when it comes to me. And it comes to him."

His hands caught her waist and pulled her to him. "Maybe, I am just a little jealous that he got you before I did. I am used to having you for myself."

"Well get used to him being back, I don't think he is going to give us up without a fight." She returned. "Good thing, I am up for a challenge." He went to kiss her but was stopped by the ringing of the bell by the bar. "Go,' She said, "I am going to go back to Nat and Javy, it's been awhile." He nodded his head and squeezed her ass before going towards the bar.

"Bee! Come on!' Natasha called from the piano where Bradley was at.

"Coming!' She called before weaving in and out of the crowd towards the group around the piano. For now, she was going to enjoy seeing her friends and being with Bradley and her husband, everything else could come tomorrow when they return to Top Gun and to this secret detachment.

#ash writes #oc: bianca kazansky #series: chasing angels #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin #top gun maverick fan fiction #top gun maverick imagines #top gun maverick

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justfandomwritings · 2 years

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Who Did This To You? (Hangman)

Pairing: Hangman x Female!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 10.2k because I have no self control

Summary: In your most vulnerable hour, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin is the one to find you, and the one to ask you the ultimate question. "Who did this to you?"

Warnings: Mentions of Abuse and DV (NOT committed by Jake), nongraphic description of resulting injuries, a very one-sided bar fight, mention that a character is going to therapy, insults and confrontation by a past abuser. (This story is a who did this to you trope. While it is only dealing with the 'who did this to you' aftermath of what was done, please keep that in mind.)

Notes: This is just an excuse to write the who did this to you trope. This is self indulgence at its finest.

“Who did this to you?”

Your head shot up a little too quickly at the unexpected company, and the world began to spin all over again. With a groan, you laid your head back on the bartop, hoping the flat wood would help the world right itself faster.

You’d been lying there with your forehead pressed on the cool wood of the bar, sitting directly under an air vent, for the better part of thirty minutes. The Hard Deck’s AC was working overtime to keep the heat outside, and the rush of cold air blowing down the back of your shirt was doing wonders for your sore arms and back.

“Hurricane, who did this to you?”

You hadn’t been expecting anyone to be there. Everyone else was down at the beach. You thought you’d have some time alone to lick your wounds and cover your bruises and emotionally recover from what had happened that morning. Penny was too busy watching Maverick. The aviators were too engrossed in a new game Maverick had invented called dogfight volleyball, and the bar was technically closed at this hour. You thought you could slip by and start your shift sight unseen.

“Hurricane,” The voice was firm, but not demanding. Underwritten with a tone of concern that was very uncommon to that particular voice. “Hurricane,” it repeated.

You opened your eyes and rolled your head to lay facing the voice’s direction and made eye contact with Hangman.

You knew it was him before you turned, but for some reason you still did.

Backlit by the sun’s rays bouncing off his perfect golden hair with an open button-up billowing in the sea breeze, he stood in sharp contrast to your current state. Like an angel stepping out of heaven and into hell.

In some ways, this was your worst case scenario. Hangman was definitely not your favorite pilot and was very close to your least, and he was certainly not your friend. You were at best frenemies and even that was a stretch. The pair of you had been constantly bickering and making snide comments behind the other’s backs since practically the moment you made eye contact with each other. He intentionally made your life difficult behind the bar, and you rang the bell on him on multiple occasions.

He was responsible for everyone calling you Hurricane. You’d come crashing through the doors on your first day working at the Hard Deck with a torrential downpour following you in from outside. A drowned cat would’ve looked less soaked through and pathetic than you, and the moment Penny introduced you to the squad, he’d made a snide remark about the Hurricane you brought with you. The rest was history. It became like a callsign to them; your name long forgotten by most. The only pilot who didn’t call you Hurricane now was Bob, and it ground your gears just a little bit more every time you heard it.

On the other hand, this might’ve been the best case scenario. Hangman wasn’t someone who was going to make a big show of this. He wouldn’t rush down to the beach and ask for help. He wouldn’t fawn over you or ask you if you were okay a million times. He wouldn’t expect you to cry on his shoulder and incessantly pick at you until you broke down.

“Who did this to you?” Hangman took a step in from where he’d frozen in the door out to the patio.

His expression was like his voice, hard and firm with undertones of the worry that anyone would be feeling in this situation. Hangman wasn’t the nicest guy you knew, but you knew from the other pilots stories of the many times he’d saved their lives that he wasn’t evil, and you didn’t doubt for a moment that he’d at least be somewhat concerned even if he didn’t care particularly for you.

“You already know who.”

It was true. Devin had been in the bar about once a week for the last six months that you’d been dating. He’d made the rounds through the aviators, none of whom particularly liked him but all of whom had been polite enough not to say anything… except Hangman.

The second Devin left after his first introductions, Hangman had made his distaste known. ‘Something’s off about that guy,’ he’d said before the door even closed. Phoenix had teased him about being jealous that his snarky banter was no longer the center of your world, but you’d seen it for what it was. A combination of being angry he wasn’t the center of attention and looking to defy you at every turn that was a uniquely Hangman blend.

Hangman approached you slowly, taking one deliberate step at a time. Every step with such obvious forethought that it gave you the time and the option to back away. A detail you wouldn’t have expected from such an ego-centric man.

You didn’t back away. Hangman was a lot of things, most of them negative, but you could say with absolute certainty that you weren’t afraid of him. For all the times you’d yelled at him, you’d never been scared of his physicality, and for all the times he'd yelled at you, his hand had never so much as twitched.

Standing beside you, under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights that threw your skin into sharp relief, Hangman had a full view of the damage.

“That fucker,” his voice was a harsh, raspy whisper, “I’m gonna kill him.” His hand seemed to lift of its own accord. Flat, open palmed and always within your line of sight, he reached up and stroked his fingers along your cheekbone with a feather-light touch.

“I already dumped him.” You don’t know why you felt like explaining yourself to Hangman of all people, but maybe it was the determination in his eyes. The way he stared down at your cheek like his eyes could will the twing of pain away.

Hangman gave a half-hearted, inattentive nod. “That’s certainly a start.” He looked like gears were turning in his head, like he hadn’t given up on his first idea.

A flood of memories came back to you.

‘The only active duty pilot with a confirmed air-to-air kill.’ Coyote, introducing Hangman.

‘We call him Bagman, cause he’ll kill anyone and get anyone killed. He doesn’t seem to mind.’ Omaha commenting on Hangman’s aim at the dartboard.

‘That’s his second air-to-air kill.’ Bob, telling you what he could about the mission they’d just come back from.

‘Hangman’s deadly in the sky. I wouldn’t wanna cross him.’ Rooster, finally being honest about what he thought of Hangman, after the blonde saved his life.

Hangman had killed before, and in his line of work, with his level of skill, likely would again. He definitely didn’t mean what he said, certainly not literally. He wasn’t about to rush out to his truck and go hunting Devin in the streets, but it wasn’t something he of all people would say entirely jokingly either.

You slowly sat up in your chair. The world was spinning less now. Whether that was because the nausea was finally passing or because Hangman’s hand stayed on your cheek, grounding you in the moment, it was unclear. “I appreciate your concern,” you hedged, “but really, I’m fine. I can handle myself.”

Hangman snorted and let his hand fall away. “Obviously you can; you already kicked his ass to the curb on your own. Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna kill him for good measure.” Hangman hopped up on the bar and swung his legs over.

You probably should’ve objected to his comfort level invading your workspace. Penny was very explicit that no one was allowed behind the bar who didn’t work there and even more explicit that that applied to all naval aviators. Somehow, though, you doubted Hangman would rat you out, at least not today.

“Are you going to tell Penny?” Hangman mozied around behind the bar, picking up a rag and tossing it over his shoulder. He was looking for something, but he didn’t seem inclined to ask. You weren’t any more inclined to offer.

It would’ve broken whatever moment was passing between you. Caring? Camaraderie? You weren’t sure, but there was certainly some level of understanding that remained largely unspoken.

Hangman found what he was looking for in short order anyway. He flipped open the ice cooler and pulled the rag off his shoulder, filling it with a scoop of ice and tying the ends.

“Not now,” you were disinclined to bring it up to Penny.

The Hard Deck was a Navy bar, and Penny had made a lot of powerful friends. Hell, you had a lot of powerful friends if you were willing to use them; one of them, or at least a powerful person who was willing to help you, was standing right in front of you. You could only imagine what would happen to Devin if you told anyone. All of it would be deserved of course, but you doubted most of it would be legal. And that really wasn’t what you needed right now, and you weren’t ready to have that conversation anyway.

“Hold this to your cheek. You wanna get the swelling down,” In a reversal of roles, he leaned against the bar in the place that was normally yours and offered you his makeshift ice pack.

You took it with a quiet, “Thank you.”

Hangman nodded with a thoughtful expression, watching your hand raise it to your cheek, “I’ll let you tell them in your own time, but you’re going to go to someone to help you through this until then… professionally.”

It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t leaving room for debate. It was an order as plain as any he got in the Navy.

You nodded wordlessly against the ice pressed to your face. It was a reasonable expectation, a reasonable request. You weren’t sure if you needed it or not, but you supposed that was the point. You weren’t sure. Better to go too soon than too late.

“Good,” Hangman sighed, seeming relieved, and pushed off the bar. His muscles flexed with the motion, bulging against the short sleeves of his open button-up shirt. They remained tense as he crossed his arms over his chest. His teeth gritted behind his closed lips. “I’ll keep him out of the bar.”

“Hangman, you really don’t have to-”

“He hurt you.” Hangman cut you off with a dismissive wave of his hand. He looked serious, deadly serious. “That’s all I need to know. He’s not welcome here anymore.”

Before you had the chance to respond, not that you were entirely sure how you would, Hangman’s eyes left yours, staring at something over your shoulder out towards the beach.

“Do you have any makeup for that cheek?”

Your head turned, and you saw the outlines of Penny and Mav, arm in arm, making their way back to the bar. “Yeah,” you replied, “But my shoulder is a different story. I need to go find…”

Hangman jerked his button up off his shoulders and balled it up, tossing it across the bar to you. “Go quick. Put this on.”

“Hangman, I-”

“Go.” Hangman urged, and you ran off before Penny could see the two of you.

—------------------------------------------------

Your phone kept buzzing in your pocket, but you didn’t have time to check it.

You thought you knew what it was. Phoenix demanding to know why one of Jake Seresin’s shirts was wrapped around your shoulders. Hangman’s weren’t as distinctive as Bradley’s, usually solid colors with a barely-there logo on the pocket. None of the guys had noticed you were wearing it, but you knew Phoenix had the moment she came back in from the beach. She’d shot you a disappointed, skeptical look and immediately begun whispering to Bob as they walked away with their drinks.

Penny hadn’t been much better. She hadn’t identified which pilots’ shirt it was like Phoenix clearly had, but she was two steps away from asking when the evening rush began to pour in without any sign of slowing down.

The Hard Deck was slam-packed, and none of the bartenders had a second to spare. The newest class of TopGun recruits were graduating within a week, and it seemed that everyone had turned out for the upcoming occasion.

The bar was crowded with faces new and old. All of the graduating pilots were scattered around, and most of their instructors had made their way in at some point. Some of the pilots had families, wives and girlfriends, who had flown in and accompanied them to the bar that night. There were more than a few old friends in town to visit or siblings using the graduation as an excuse to get away.

Even most of Mav’s squadron was there. Penny’s old flame had claimed a spot by one of the dart boards, and his lieutenants were all taking turns trying to dethrone Hangman as the king of darts. Normally, they would have migrated to the pool tables by now, but the bar was too crowded for even TopGun’s finest to leverage their way into skipping the line to have a game.

One of the soon-to-be graduates hunkered down at the bar, some asshole who was billing himself as the new and improved Hangman, kept snapping his fingers at you to try to get your attention from behind the bar. You were dangerously close to ringing the bell on him the next time he did it, and Penny’s fingers were clearly itching to do the same. Tragically, neither of you thought that was a very good idea. Tonight might’ve been the one night where it was simply too busy to ring the bell.

There were so many people you couldn’t see past the sea of bodies pressing in around you, and it was a miracle that you didn’t bolt from the claustrophobia.

Marg after marg. Old fashioned after old fashioned. Beer after beer. The line never seemed to stop, and it was taking its toll on you. Tonight was simply not your night.

“Go,” Penny’s hand touched your shoulder and made you jump, spilling some of the tequila shot you were trying to hand off. “I’ll clean that. You look like you need a break. Take five.”

Normally on a busy night, you would’ve protested, insisted you could hold down the fort and done your best to help Penny push through the rush, but not that night.

Your shoulders slumped in relief, and you ducked under the gap in the bar without much of a second thought, pushing your way through the people towards the door to the kitchen. There was a ‘broken’ stool by the door to the kitchen that was in fact not broken at all but had a sign taped to it that said it was specifically so it was open for when workers were on break. The seat provided some much needed relief for your aching feet and even more aching shoulders.

Shaking cocktails was really aggravating the bruises just beneath the button up wrapped around your shoulders, and you found yourself hurting almost twice as much as normal this shift. That might’ve been why you felt like you were moving in slow motion the whole time. That or the sheer number of people had simply made the task seem insurmountable.

You were just closing your eyes and leaning back against the wall when your phone in your pocket buzzed again.

It wasn’t really a conscious decision to check it, more habit than anything else. And really, you hadn’t expected it to be anything that bad. You hadn’t heard from him all day.

But there it was. His name. His name a half a dozen times over the course of your shift. Each text progressively more urgent and pressing than the last.

‘I’m still coming to pick you up from work.’

Bile rose up in your throat, and you suppressed the overwhelming urge to bolt. The room was suddenly too hot and too crowded, and there were too many faces. Faces you recognized and faces you didn’t. A wash of faces that was the perfect place for him to hide, to wait, to lurk around for the opportune moment to reveal himself.

You couldn’t do this, couldn’t deal with this. Not here. Not now. Not in front of all these people. Not alone.

You did the first thing that came to mind.

It was stupid really. You couldn’t explain why it occurred to you, why you acted on it so immediately, why you thought it was a good idea at all. It probably wasn’t; it could just as easily have backfired in your face as anything else. But your gut told you it was what you should do. Really, your gut didn’t so much tell you as wrench you in that direction with an undeniable force.

“Hey can I talk to you for a sec?”

Hangman was an easy man to find, even despite the crowd, strutting around the dart boards like he owned the place, which he very nearly did, rubbing the other pilots noses in his shots that were somehow better blindfolded than theirs were with sight.

You interrupted him boasting loudly to Fanboy and Payback about how he didn’t even need to practice. Perfect marksmanship just came naturally to him. The rest of the pilots were all gathered at the high tops near the darts boards, mostly rolling their eyes. They were having some kind of tournament, or rather a competition to see if anyone could take Hangman down.

Payback seemed almost too happy for the interruption, but Fanboy was a bit more perceptive, at least at the moment. Fanboy’s eyes darted away to Phoenix’s table, and you saw the jerk of his head when he caught her eye. Funneling the female aviator’s attention in the direction of what was unfolding.

You, wearing Hangman’s shirt since he disappeared for half an hour earlier that day, asking to talk to him alone near the end of your shift. You knew exactly what it looked like.

“Sure.” Hangman’s tone was completely casual, not giving anything away, but when his back turned on his companions, his eyes were burning. You quickly looked away from his gaze and led him from the group.

“I wasn’t checking my phone.” The words were tumbling out of your mouth the moment he was out of the others’ earshot. You didn’t even bite your tongue long enough to turn around. “He’s been texting me my entire shift. He was supposed to be my ride home tonight, and I think he might show up soon.”

When you faced Hangman, you knew the panic in your voice and in your eyes was painfully obvious. Now that you were semi-alone with him, with someone who knew, there was no hiding how much it jarred you. Your hands fumbled with your phone trying to show him the flood of texts you’d gotten, unnoticed, over the last two hours.

Hangman didn’t look down even as you turned the phone to show him. His jaw was already clenched; his expression was agitated, visibly angry. His eyes weren’t looking at you or the phone. They were searching the faces in the crowd similar to the way yours had only moments before though far more thorough. The honed, trained eye of a military fighter pilot meticulously picked through the crowd for its target, finding nothing.

“Could you…” You hesitated to ask. It was such a ridiculous request. Just yesterday, Hangman would’ve been your absolute last choice to be in this position with; you would’ve risked handling it alone before asking for his help. But here he was. The only one who knew. The first one you asked. “I’ll give you a round on the house for it. I just… Would you mind giving me a ride home? I don’t want to stumble on him alone.”

Hangman didn’t hesitate or pull his eyes from where they continuously scanned the crowd, as if his gaze alone was enough to keep a threat at bay. “No beers required, Hurricane.” The words seemed to be coming out of his mouth even as you offered. Like he’d already decided what he was going to do the minute you told him the problem. “Wait here a sec? I’ll handle it.”

Hangman walked the short distance over to the bar, glancing back over his shoulder at you every few steps like he was making sure you hadn’t disappeared, and flagged down Penny. Something on his face must’ve told her it was urgent because she forwent several regulars and big tippers demanding drinks to beeline towards him. He leaned over the bar and whispered something in her ear, gesturing back in your direction.

Penny looked concerned, and she nodded along with what Hangman was saying until he turned to leave.

“If Penny asks,” Hangman put a hand on your shoulder, a firm grip holding you to his side as he led you through the throng of people towards the exit, “a guy was bothering you, and I drove you home cause you were scared of him.”

“Not entirely a lie,” You mumbled, shifting closer into Hangman’s side.

No one tried to stop you. No hands reached out for you. No one called out your name. You made it through entirely unscathed. You could feel eyes on you, but they didn’t raise the hairs on the back of your neck. You doubted, highly, that they were Devin’s. More likely, Hangman’s squadron were watching him retreat from the bar with you under his arm without so much as a goodbye. More likely, they were plotting and planning the questions they were going to hound the two of you with the next time they saw you. More likely, Phoenix was pointing out to everyone that you were wearing Hangman’s shirt.

—------

“Does he have a key?” Hangman didn’t break the silence until he’d turned onto your block, until he’d brought his truck to a slow crawl, looking for your tiny, inconsequential cookie cutter house in a row of tiny, inconsequential cookie cutter houses.

Yours was pretty much the only house without a Navy flag or Navy paraphernalia of some description sitting in the yard or stuck to a car in the driveway. The neighborhood was not far from the Hard Deck which was not far from the base, and the tiny houses geared towards first-time-buyers were crawling with Navy pilots and newlywed military couples who wanted to live offbase.

You were on the second sidestreet, the third house on the left. Hangman already knew the way without instruction. Penny had conned every Top Gun pilot with a car into driving you home at least a couple times. And while Hangman was usually the pilot she was least willing to ask, he was also the only one who was guaranteed to always be sober.

His question came out very sober. His usual lilting, teasing tone had dropped off somewhere today and never fully returned.

“He did. He… he told me he lost it, but…” You both knew better than to believe that.

Hangman pulled into your driveway and flicked the truck into park and turned it off. “Tomorrow I’ll drive you to the hardware store, and we’ll change the locks.”

“You don’t have to…”

“Do you feel safe with him having a key?” Hangman cut you off. He was looking down at you with just a touch of condescension, so classically Hangman. Like he knew the answer already, like he knew you knew the answer already, and that you were silly if you pretended not to or refused him.

You knew where this was going, and you thought about lying, just to relieve Hangman of whatever false sense of duty or obligation he had imposed on himself by being the one to find you at the Hard Deck. But it was way too late. Hangman wasn’t stupid, but he was incredibly, irritatingly stubborn. And he’d already set his mind to helping you through this. “No.”

“Then tomorrow morning I’ll change the locks.” Hangman threw his door open and hopped out of the truck. It slammed closed behind him as he circled around to your side. You made to open your door, but Hangman beat you to it. “Alarm services are expensive,” He continued, offering you a hand, “but they make door jammers that have sound alarms on them at least, and my sister bought some cheap window versions a while back that I could help install.”

You took Hangman’s hand and dumbly followed him up to your door as he rambled on about extra door locks and doorbell cameras. All options that you could pick up tomorrow for him to put in.

“That’s too much effort,” You halfheartedly protested as you spun your keys around trying to find the one to your front door.

There really weren’t that many keys. There were a couple to the Hard Deck, one to the shed where Penny kept beach supplies, and one to Devin’s place that you hadn’t returned. They were all distinct shapes and colors, but you couldn’t seem to focus long enough to find the plain silver key to your own door. Maybe because you knew there was another one, exactly like it, somewhere across town at that moment.

“Not if it makes you feel safe.” Hangman leaned back against your door frame, his eyes skimming up and down your block as if he was still on alert in the crowded bar, still looking for signs of trouble, signs of him.

“Would you…” Your words trailed off as you watched his darting eyes. The question came bubbling up before you could stop it, before you even really thought of it. It was less a question and more a response to his vigilance, to the thought that his vigilance might be warranted and necessary.

“Would I…?” Hangman didn’t let it go. His eyes turned to look at you.

You chewed at your bottom lip, debating if it was worth asking, debating if it was necessary.

He probably thought it was, if his mannerisms were any indication, if his talk about alarms was any indication, if walking you to your door and watching your back were any indication.

“Would you come in?”

Hangman raised a doubtful eyebrow, sure you didn’t mean what those words usually meant.

“Not like that, it’s just… You’re right. He probably still has a key, and if we can’t fix it till the morning…”

Understanding seemed to wash over his face, and Hangman kicked himself up off the door jam. “If it’ll help,” he immediately conceded. “I’ll sleep on your couch.”

“It…” You hesitated, but only for a moment. “I think it would.”

The silence inside your home was almost palpable. It was late enough that going to bed wouldn’t have been awkward for either of you, but neither of you were tired. And neither of you seemed up to faking being tired just to get away.

Hangman sat on one end of the couch, and you sat on the other. At some point, you mustered the effort to turn on the tv. The local news was a quiet, bland drone of background noise cutting through the still air around the two of you.

You felt like you should say something. Maybe ‘should’ wasn’t the right word; maybe you wanted to say something. But either way you didn’t know where to begin.

You had only ever been alone with Hangman when he was dropping you off as a favor to Penny, times that were filled with snarky jokes and constant nagging from both of you, and earlier that day in the bar. You weren’t close. You weren’t friends. You were barely acquaintances. He was only here because he was in the right (or wrong, depending how you looked at it) place at the right time.

“Thank you,” That seemed like a good place to start. “For today, thank you.”

“You have nothing to thank me for.” Hangman countered quickly. His eyes stayed on the tv, though they were clearly out of focus staring at the screen.

“I do though. You could’ve told everyone.”

“You weren’t ready for that.” He added it under his breath, countering without cutting you off.

“You could’ve left me to finish out my shift.”

“Not with him coming to the bar.”

“You could’ve left after you dropped me off.”

“He has a key.”

“You could’ve turned and walked out the door when you first saw me at the bar.”

Hangman let out a heavy sigh, not of annoyance or exasperation but a sigh weighed down with duty and concern. “No, I couldn’t.”

Your eyes met his over the center of the couch, and a breath rushed out of your lungs under the intensity in his gaze.

—-------------------------------------

You woke up in your bed, mouth open, with more than a little drool pooling on your pillow.

You had no memory of falling asleep there, of getting into bed, of going to your room at all.

You remember being on the couch, talking to Hangman. You remembered the way his eyes, intense, open, and honest, compelled you to speak. The way you couldn’t bite back the story pouring from your lips. The story of Devin asking you out, of falling for him in those early weeks, of how he changed after you committed to him. The story of what he did that night, of his buddies who sat back and did nothing, of the jokes you heard the three of them cracking as you ran from the room.

You remembered Hangman crossing the space between you and putting a hand on your arm, how cautious he was touching you, how much time he left you to pull away, how gentle his touch was against your skin. You remembered throwing yourself into his lap, sobbing into his shoulder as he held you against his chest and rubbed soothingly up and down your back, whispering promises that that asshole would never hurt you again.

You didn’t remember anything after that. You must’ve fallen asleep in his lap.

Sitting up, you found the answer to your unasked question.

A folded piece of notebook paper sitting on the pillow next to you:

‘Thought the bed would be preferable to sharing the couch with me. If I’m wrong and you wake up in the middle of the night and don’t want to be alone, you can always wake me up. If not, I’ll have coffee ready for you in the morning. - Jake.’

As you read, his words the night before echoed in your head to the beat of a nonexistent drum as you read the note once, then twice, then a third time.

‘No, I couldn’t.’

You carefully folded the paper up and tucked it in the top drawer of your bedside table.

True to his word, Hangman was wide awake, standing in your kitchen pouring himself a cup of coffee when you walked out of your room.

“H-Hi,” you stuttered.

Last night, in the comfort of darkness, with exhaustion clouding over your mind and his arms holding you close, it had seemed the most logical thing in the world to open up to Hangman. And with the light of day glinting through the windows, with him dressed in the button up he’d wrapped around you the day before, with him lounging back against your counter as he sipped from your favorite mug, with an overconfident air that was too comfortable for any normal person’s first time in your home… It was odd to think that feeling hadn’t changed, that you still felt able to bare your soul to him, that you didn’t feel a need to run back into your room and get changed or freshen up, that you were perfectly comfortable being seen by him like this, a tired quaking mess with puffy red eyes.

Part of you expected to walk out into your kitchen to an epiphany that you’d made a horrible mistake, that Hangman was exactly as much of a cocky asshole as you thought he was two days ago. But the epiphany never came.

“Morning,” Hangman took a sip of coffee and set the mug aside. He looked casual, at peace, like this was just another day, like he’d done this a million times. “I’m ready to go whenever you are. I found the toolbox in the bottom of your coat closet. Hope you don’t mind. We’ll probably need a few things if we’re gonna do anything more than replace the locks.”

“Y-Yeah,” You grabbed a mug off the drying rack and crossed the room to pour yourself a cup of coffee from the pot beside him, your shoulder brushing passed his as you poured. “Sounds good.”

“Hey.” Hangman seemed to immediately pick up that something was plaguing your mind. He didn’t reach out for you like last night, quite the opposite. He took a step away and turned to face you, crossin his arms over his chest, “If you want to be alone, I’ll head out. I’ll go to the store, pick up the locks, and change them myself. You can have time to yourself if you need it.”

“No,” You immediately countered his obvious misinterpretation of your mood. “I-I don’t think I want to be alone. I’m just… antsy I guess.”

He didn’t seem to fully buy it, but he let your excuse hang. “Okay then, we’ll head out when you’re ready.”

—----------------------

All day, as Hangman worked around your house first changing the locks then installing alarms then fixing a window that wouldn’t lock and then righting a wobbly chair leg that had absolutely nothing to do with your safety, neither of you mentioned the note he left or you crying in his arms or falling asleep on his lap or his quiet ‘No, I couldn’t’.

—--------------------------

You made a vow to yourself when Hangman finally left your house late Saturday afternoon. You were never going to ring up his card at the Hard Deck again. It couldn’t really repay what he’d done for you, the feeling of safety he’d brought to you in what was probably your most vulnerable moment so far on this earth, but you knew he wouldn’t want anything more showy. Hangman loved being the center of attention, but somehow you knew he wouldn’t want attention for this.

True to your vow, the next Saturday evening, Hangman was on his third beer and had, unwittingly on his part, not paid a dime.

The Hard Deck was far less crowded that night. The graduating Top Gun candidates had all flown away, and only those currently stationed at the base, mostly Maverick’s squad, and some locals remained. A few dozen patrons milled around a room far larger than they needed with maybe a dozen pressed up to the bar. Most of the dozen fell under your responsibilities at the moment. Penny had, unintentionally, abandoned you not long before when Maverick had wandered in and taken up his usual stool.

Omaha and Halo, the first aviators to arrive, had claimed one of the pool tables early in the night, and the rest of the squad had started rotating through matchups. It appeared Fritz was on a hot streak, one that was no doubt about to end as his next opponent in line was Hangman.

All seemed right with the world. The constant buzz of voices, the crooning of the Goo Goo Dolls song that Bob had selected on the jukebox, the ready flow of beer to your usual patrons. Everything was fine.

Until the door opened one last time. Not that places of business ever ‘expected’ anyone because they hardly sent out invitations to come buy beer, but you really weren’t expecting anyone else that night. All the regulars were already inside.

The door banging against the wall as it was flung open was enough to draw your surprised eyes up to the entryway.

Face lit by the sun setting over the beach through the windows on the opposite wall, he was unmistakable as he marched into view flanked by his two buddies. They immediately began scanning the room.

Your breath rushed out of your lungs, exhaling in a gust that you couldn’t hold back any more than the wind.

No, no, no. He wasn’t here. He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t confront you here. He couldn’t corner you alone.

There was no time to think, no time to check with Penny if it was ok to leave your station, no time to get to the door or bolt out the back.

‘I’ll keep him out of the bar.’

It was your first instinct when you saw the text the weekend before, and it was your first instinct when you saw him that night.

“Hurricane?” Penny called after you as, without so much as a word in her direction, you ducked under the gap in the bar and made a beeline for the pool tables.

You barely heard her, and if you did, it didn’t register.

“Jake,” his real name leaving your lips was enough to draw most of his coworkers’ attention, all those in earshot at least. You grabbed his arm the second he was within reach, inadvertently clawing his skin with your nails as you pulled him up from where he was hunched over the pool table lining up a shot.

Jake laughed and shrugged off your arm before he even turned around and saw who it was. “Hey,” he rubbed at the red marks in his skin, “I was just…”

The words died on his lips when he turned and saw the panic in your eyes. It was brimming up inside you, overflowing and choking you off from every other sensation except the desperation for Jake to understand.

He knew better than anyone that there was only one thing that could make you look like that, feel like that. His head jerked up immediately in the direction of the door, as if he could sense the direction of the impending doom.

You watched the lighthearted smirk that constantly plagued his lips fall away. You watched the light in his eyes cloud over in darkness. As his gaze went up over your shoulder to the door, where one of the three men with angry expressions and dark eyes spotted your back amongst the khaki uniforms and began moving.

Jake’s arm twisted in your grip and grabbed you by the elbow, jerking you unceremoniously behind his back. There was no time for pleasantries, no time to be nice about whatever he was about to do.

“Fanboy, stay with her.” Jake ordered over his shoulder to the nearest aviator. His gaze didn’t waiver from the three men approaching, even as he issued commands.

Most of the aviators in Mav’s squad were scattered around the room. Mav was at the bar talking with Penny and Halo. Fanboy and Coyote had been watching Hangman school Fritz, who was being hyped up by Payback. Rooster was at a table not far from the pool game talking to a pretty girl. And Phoenix and Bob were half spectating from their perch by the jukebox discussing something that had gone wrong in a training run that afternoon.

Fanboy caught you and held you up as Jake pushed you in his direction. “What’s going on?”

Jake didn’t answer. He side-stepped in front of you, half blocking you from view, and walked to the edge of the pool area. There was a buffer zone between himself and you. He was the first line of defense, and he was giving the second, Fanboy, room to react.

“You fucking bitch!” If Fanboy didn’t know what was going on before, he instantly caught on.

Fanboy’s arms tensed around yours. His back went rigged, as if a commanding officer had just called him to attention, and he curled away, pulling you back behind him and putting his body in front of you as a shield. Even with Fanboy hovering in the way, his body didn’t hide Devin’s eyes. They sought you out around Jake’s frame and over Fanboy’s shoulder; they found you huddled up behind the Navy uniforms and the fancy stars pinned to the pilots chests. No number of medals pinned to Jake’s chest could stop the chill that ran down your spine in response to the venom in Devin’s tone. You wanted to look away, but the daggers in his gaze skewered you in place, held you hostage.

You wanted to curl up and hide, preferably behind Jake... Well, preferably in a home far away from there wrapped in heavy blankets with many deadbolts between you and Devin with Jake vigilantly standing guard at the door.

Devin tried to walk straight past Jake, like he didn’t even see him. Jake wasn’t having any of it.

A thick, muscular arm stuck out across the length of Devin’s shoulders as he tried to pass, holding him back.

Devin wasn’t a very big guy. He was well toned, but he was no naval aviator. He was no Jake Seresin. Jake had about an inch on Devin, but his well built frame made up for their near identical height. Devin had never been one to hit the gym hard while Jake certainly was, and it showed. It showed in the way a single arm without so much as a brace didn’t move even as Devin walked straight into it.

If the rest of the bar weren’t looking when Devin shouted that you were a bitch, they certainly were when he glared up at Jake. “Out of the way you fucker!”

Jake getting out of the way was about the last thing you wanted to happen, and Jake seemed disinclined to oblige either. His arm didn’t move from where it blocked Devin’s path, even as Devin glowered up at him.

The staring match lasted only a moment before Devin, impatient as always, gave up and turned back to glaring at you. He shouted, unnecessarily loudly, across the minimal distance between the two of you, “You changed the locks on me?”

There was shuffling behind you and the sound of something clanging onto the pool table.

You couldn’t bring yourself to turn your head away from Devin, couldn’t look away, couldn’t let him out of your sight. But there was the sound of footsteps as first Coyote, then Fritz, then Payback came into range in your peripheral vision.

None of them knew what this was about, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out where this was going. And any idiot could tell whose side they would be on in a fight between Jake and Devin.

“She didn’t. I did.” Jake declared at a similarly loud volume, pulling Devin’s attention back on him, demanding Devin shift his focus off of you. “You got a problem with that, you take it up with me.”

Devin took a step back, finally abandoning his futile attempt to confront you in favor of squaring up to Jake.

As Devin stepped back, the trio of pilots stepped forward. Fritz approached first, joining Fanboy in front of you. Payback followed after Fritz, lingering halfway between him and Jake, a bystander ready to step in if things got out of hand.

Coyote, however, had no questions about how any altercation would go down. His hand came down as he walked up behind Jake, slapping down reassuringly on Jake's shoulder to let him know he wasn’t alone. Coyote flanked Jake at such a close distance that it made it impossibly clear that, if this turned into a fight, it would not be three on one.

It wouldn’t even be three on two for that matter. Devin’s buddies, who had crossed the bar with him had hung back a few feet, giving Devin the space he wanted to scream at you or confront you or whatever else he had been planning before Jake intercepted. The duo found themselves with two bar tables between them and Devin. One of which was, ever so unfortunately for them, occupied by none other than Bradley Bradshaw and his drinking companion.

Devin’s friends would be forgiven for not realizing that they were offering up the chance to divide the group in half. Bradley, per usual, wasn’t in his Navy uniform, and a guy in a faded Hawaiian shirt didn’t exactly look intimidating. At least not while he was sitting down chatting up a pretty girl.

Seeing the escalation Coyote invited, and flashing his eyes to where you cowered behind his squadmates, Rooster got to his feet with a slow, lithe push off the table in front of him and turned his back on Devin. Not even bothering to give the belligerent asshole, currently one on two against Hangman and Coyote, the time of day, he turned his entire attention to the backup Devin brought with him.

Never in your life had you been scared of any of the naval aviators, but there was something especially intimidating about the incredibly casual way Bradley put himself alone in a fight against two men. His relaxed stance, completely unbothered by the numbers game he was playing. His head, cocking to one side to crack his neck, and then the other.

“You the latest pilot she’s spreading her legs for?” Devin snarled up at Jake, completely oblivious to what was going on behind him and unconcerned by Coyote’s presence.

Jake was entirely unphased. His voice was calm and steady even as Devin’s got more and more red with each passing moment. “No, but I am a friend. And if you have a problem with her you’re gonna have to go through me…” Jake added as an afterthought, “And him,” jerking his head to Coyote.

“You think she’ll fuck you if you play hero?” Devin spat out the word fuck as if the thought of you and sex in the same sentence disgusted him. “You don’t gotta try that hard to get her to spread.”

Jake shrugged and casually dismissed the comment. “That’s really not my business or yours.”

“She is my business; that’s my girl.”

Devin jabbed a finger over Jake’s shoulder in your direction without looking away from Jake, and you instinctively shrunk further back behind Fanboy. Until you felt the material between your fingers, you didn’t even realize that your hand had reached up to fist the back of Fanboy’s uniform.

You didn’t know, logically, why you were afraid. Whatever Jake was doing, he was doing a marvelous job of keeping Devin’s eyes off of you. You were absolutely certain that Devin would have to knock Jake out to get to you, not that he could even manage that. You were also absolutely certain that even if he did, he’d still have to make it through Rooster, Fanboy, Fritz, Payback, and Coyote, not to mention the dozen Navy guys from other squads currently spectating who would jump in to assist, or Penny or Mav. There was just something about his finger pointing at you, accusing you, that made that feeling of helplessness bubble up inside you again, that made you feel pinned, trapped under his hand.

“I’ll do whatever I want with her.”

It was like Jake knew or could sense your growing bubble of fear. He leaned ever so slightly to one side, like he was simply shifting his weight from foot to foot, before standing back up straight in between Devin’s finger and you.

“Not anymore.” Jake declared firmly. “You’re already about a mile closer to her than I want you to be.”

That declaration made Devin’s lips twist up into something akin to a smirk. “I’ve been a lot closer to her than this.”

Jake’s shoulders tensed, and for the first time it seemed like Devin got to him. “I know exactly how close you got.” His voice darkened, and you could practically picture the look in his eyes, practically knew it by heart from the night you told him what Devin had done. “Where I’m from, we don’t treat women like that.”

Devin laughed humorously, heading tilting back to let the single tone ring out in the air. “Well we aren’t where you’re from. That’s my girl, and I’ll do what I want with her.”

You shivered involuntarily, like someone had dropped an ice cube down the back of your shirt. It sent a chill through you to think of Devin alone with you, doing what he wanted with you. You remembered what he did the last time he had that power over you. You couldn’t let it happen again.

“No,” It took a moment to register that Jake was the one snarling, not Devin, not even you. The word came out in a hiss between his teeth. “You’ll do what she wants. And right now she doesn’t want you here.”

For whatever reason, Devin was getting to Jake. The unshakeable, unflappable Jake Seresin was rising to a rolling boil under the surface of his skin, and there was nothing he could do to hide it. From the tone of his voice to the tension in his shoulders, to the way his fingers twitched in and out of a fist, Devin and what he was saying was under Jake’s skin.

Devin saw it; you could tell. You couldn’t see his eyes around the bodies between the two of you, but you saw his posture change, his stance open up and his chest puff out. He leaned in and sneered, “She needed to be put in her place. She looks better roughed up anyway.”

You felt their eyes on you. The squad. The whole bar. None of them were actually looking at you. None of their heads turned, but you knew every one of them was staring at an image of you in their minds. Maybe they all figured it out before. Maybe they knew when Devin walked in or when Jake escorted you home. Or maybe they didn’t know anything at all, but either way Devin just gave them confirmation.

Payback was no longer content to play the bystander. His shoes clicked on the floor, echoing in the silence that existed throughout the bar as Jake and Devin sparred. He flanked Jake’s other side, shoulder to shoulder with him as Coyote had been since the confrontation began.

Coyote didn’t move an inch except for the hand at his side that clenched into a fist.

Jake took a step closer. But for the inch of height difference, he stood nose to nose with Devin as he said, “Where I’m from, a man lays his hands on a woman, and you take him out back and put one between his eyes.”

Devin pushed up, must’ve stood on his tiptoes to do it, to close the gap with Jake, to put himself on the same level as the pilot. “She’s mine, you fucker.” Flecks of spit, visible even at your distance, splattered against Jake’s cheek. “Get the fuck out of the way.”

Devin’s hands came up and shoved Jake in both shoulders, hard.

Jake’s shoulders didn’t give an inch. His feet didn’t budge. His posture didn’t change.

Jake’s voice dropped low, so low you barely heard it. If a single soul in the bar had been focused on anything other than the confrontation at hand, if the jukebox hadn’t run to the end of its queue of songs and left the bar in silence, if any more distance had been between the two of you, you wouldn’t have heard the rough, guttural retort from somewhere deep inside Jake’s chest, “You’re really, really gonna have to make me.”

Without warning, Devin swung.

He was standing too close to Jake, almost chest to chest with the taller aviator. There was no good angle from which to strike, and his arm took a wide arc away from his body to get the necessary momentum and distance to hit at Jake with any force.

It was like it moved in slow motion, Jake’s head turned, his eyes following the direction of the swing as it approached his face.

You gasped and clung tighter to Fanboy, who blindly reached back to clutch your arm, pulling you in closer to him.

The fear, entirely for Jake, was also entirely unnecessary.

Jake’s head leaned to one side and effortlessly avoided the blow. Devin stumbled a couple steps to the side as his momentum carried him past Jake.

It gave Jake the space he needed to counter, not with a wide, slow hook around to the side of Devin’s face, but with a swift, firm uppercut to his jaw.

The connection sent a crack echoing through the bar, and Devin’s entire body went slack before he even hit the floor.

Coyote caught his arm before he could collapse, not that it did Devin any good to be under Coyote’s care instead of Jake’s. Coyote’s grip was so tight on Devin’s upper arm that you were sure it would bruise not just the skin but the muscles underneath.

Jake bent down over the other man and bent a finger up under his jaw. Devin’s head tipped up into Jake’s face without any protest and fell back to bob loosely to one side the moment Jake wasn’t supporting him any more.

“He’ll be out cold for a while.” Jake declared, glancing up to give Coyote a nod.

Coyote dropped his grip on Devin and let him crumple unceremoniously to the floor.

“Now,” Jake left Coyote to deal with Devin, stepping over the unconscious body on the floor as one might step over a puddle in the street. He ambled over to Rooster, whose presence had been more than enough to hold off Devin’s two buddies for the brief ten seconds of fighting, if it could even be categorized as a fight.

“Are you two,” Jake wagged a finger between Devin’s two friends as he came shoulder to shoulder with Rooster, “the ones she told me helped him out last week? Cause I gotta bone to pick with them too?”

“No, we didn’t!” The shorter of the two declared loudly. “Look, we don’t want any trouble.”

Jake’s head turned to glance back over his shoulder, and for the first time since Devin confronted you, you made eye contact with Jake.

His eyes were hard, cold, unfeeling. He wasn’t angry anymore. He wasn’t upset or worried or fearful or any of the other emotions you felt warring inside of you. The mask was back on, the unflappable exterior that only you had seen beneath before tonight. He wasn’t waiting for them; he was waiting for you. A good soldier, waiting for his orders.

Imperceptibly to everyone but Jake who was watching you like a hawk, you shook your head. This had gone on long enough already tonight. You just wanted it to be over.

“Well then,” Jake turned back to the two friends in tow. “Why don’t you take your buddy and get out of here?” Jake stepped close, towering over the shorter one as he added, “Tell him if he comes back round here to bother her again; I will spend the rest of my life making sure he’s too afraid to even look at another woman.”

Beside Jake, Rooster began casually cracking the knuckles of his fist one by one, presumably for emphasis.

There was a dull thud that drew the quad of men’s attention back towards Devin.

Payback was squatting over the unconscious man. He’d seemingly been rooting through the other man’s pockets. The sound of his wallet dropping back onto Devin’s back was the noise that drew the men’s eyes and everyone else’s watching as a result.

Payback was waving a credit card in the air in Jake’s general direction.

“Good idea,” Jake wandered over and snatched up the card. “Call it payback for disturbing the bar tonight.” Jake’s teasing smirk was back as he used Payback’s callsign. He abandoned the group to amble back towards Penny at the bar, and his absence seemed to break the tension.

The patrons, scattered around, all began slowly turning back to their tables. The conversation was quieter, hushed whispers that were no doubt mostly about the fight they’d just watched ensue, but their eyes seemed to have drank in their fill of the scene.

Under the watchful eye of Rooster, with Coyote and Payback standing by, Devin’s two friends draped their friend unceremoniously across their shoulders. Despite the struggle they were clearly having, not a soul offered to help as they stumbled under his weight out of the bar.

“I hope they have to drag him to the car.”

You jumped and turned your head to find that at some point in the chaos Phoenix and Bob had come up on the other side of the pool table as a last line of defense.

“Please, I hope they faceplant in the gravel.”

You let out a humorous laugh at Phoenix’s comment as your body finally slumped under the weight of the evening, resting back against the pool table with a huff of air.

“Are you…”

“Fritz, if you ask me if I’m okay, I will walk out of this bar right now.” You held up a finger to silence him.

You were not okay. You would be okay, one day; you knew that much. But that day was not today.

In the distance, like you were hearing an echo from the other end of a long tunnel, you registered the bell ringing for a free round. Your vision was tunneling too, but you could make out Jake was leaning across the bar, ringing the bell himself as he slammed Devin’s card on the bar in front of Penny.

Maverick, always present in front of Penny’s bar, slapped him on the back and whispered something in his ear, but Jake seemed, for once, thoroughly uninterested in his commanding officer.

His eyes, you thought, appeared to be focused on you. He left the bar before he even got his own free drink and headed straight back towards the pool tables.

Coyote and Rooster tried to talk to him, but he brushed him off. By the time he reached Fanboy, still awkwardly hovering in front of you, his destination was clear, and Fanboy slid right out of his way.

“Come on,” Jake held out a hand to you. “Penny won’t mind if you don’t finish out your shift.”

It wasn’t a tunnel you were looking through now so much as a camera, the lens zooming in and zooming out, narrowing and expanding your field of vision around Jake.

Jake, the only thing in the world right now that felt safe, that felt ok.

You numbly, clumsily, flung your hand out to grasp his, and as his fingers laced through yours you thought you might have a different answer to Fritz’s question, not that you’d ever voice it.

—————————————

“Thank you.”

It was about an hour after you and Jake had left the bar.

He’d walked you out the back door of the Hard Deck and down the beach for the better part of half an hour before the two of you wordlessly agreed to find a comfortable spot to sit down in the sand.

The silence had been more comfortable than you ever thought silence with Jake could be. Every time he’d driven you home from the Hard Deck, he’d felt the need to fill every available moment with some kind of noise, compulsively turning up the volume on the radio or making snarky, sarcastic commentary about anything that passed by the window. Silence was not Jake Seresin’s forte.

Yet the silence between the two of you had felt like a comforting blanket, wrapping you in understanding. He already knew what happened between you and Devin; the hard part of that explanation was over. He already knew why Devin was there that night, what must have prompted him to show up, what he was hinting at in front of the whole bar. He knew nothing else about you, but he knew this, knew every detail of the most painful moment of your life, and he accepted it without question, gave you what you needed without question, helped you without question.

“You don’t have to thank me for doing the right thing for once in my life, Hurricane.” Jake murmured. “It’s a nice change of pace.”

You wished you could deny that, say that Jake was a great guy, say that he always did the right thing or that he was a good man. But the truth was he often wasn’t. He was flawed, deeply so, rude when it was uncalled for, inappropriate when the moment was serious, lewd when he should have been respectful, confrontational when he should have been kind. He was as flawed as any other human being, maybe more so.

But when you needed him he was there. When no one else was there, he was there. And that, to you, forgave any multitude of sins.

“What did Mav say to you when you left?”

“What?” Jake did a quick double take, looking down at you beside him. “Oh,” He chuckled to himself. “He said, ‘Good man, no push-ups tomorrow when I shoot you down.’”

“Well,” you smiled, “I owe you a lot more than a few push ups.”

“You owe me nothing.”

You squeezed his hand, his fingers which had been laced in yours since he led you out of the Hard Deck, “How about a second chance? If I remember correctly we didn’t get off to the best start.”

Jake smirked, “Not a chance am I starting over. You’re still my Hurricane.”

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call-sign-shark · 1 year

Text

✨Angel in Distress✨

Summary: Hangman always takes care of you, but what happens when he discovers that you’re pregnant? Bonus: Bob AGAIIIIIN.

(Part 1: Angel in Disguise || Part 3: Angel in Panic)

Words: 1,5k

Tags: unplanned pregnancy, mention of unprotected sex, funny, extreme fluff

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

A second red line appeared on the pregnancy test you held between your hands.

Your heart skipped a beat at such a sight. It all started with Phoenix and you sitting on the warm sand of the beach, discussing boys. While not mentioning Hangman, you told her you had a friend with benefits and that, caught in the middle of the heat, both of you often forgot about condoms but you were taking the pill, so you never worried about getting pregnant. Even though Phoenix laughed and teased you, she still warned you: birth controls, especially low-dose ones, are not 100% effective. All it took was forgetting it a few times. Her words felt like a punch in the guts. Admittedly you had not been consistent with your birth control lately, for the Uranium mission and Mav’s difficult trainings occupied all your thoughts. By the end of the day, you frequently released the stress with Hangman through steamy intercourses, then you took your shower and fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. Natasha had barely left when you rushed to the local drugstore to buy two pregnancy tests coming from two different brands, which both turned out positive.

“I’m fucked.”

These were the only words that came from your lips, carried by your shaky breathing. You, a skilled and dauntless naval aviator who never thought about building a family, were pregnant. Even worse, the one whose seed belonged to was a cocky pilot who did not seem to want a serious and stable relationship. You pressed one of your cold palms against your forehead, eyes wide open in awe as you realized the whole situation. Your child’s father was Jake Hangman Seresin. Your heart pounded so hard in your chest that, at this point, you were pretty sure it was about to burst your ribcage open. Crippling anxiety crept through your body, weighting in your chest, and forming a ball of sobs in your throat.

“Are you okay?” You heard Jake’s voice through the bathroom’s door.

Silence.

The tall pilot frowned, a hint of worry glimmering in his beautiful green eyes. He waited one full minute before grabbing the handle and opening the door. His gaze caught sight of your trembling frame, sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Back bent, teary eyes set on a pregnancy test you were holding between your hands, you remained petrified.

“Hey babe, what happens?” He asked, quietly. Jake did not see the pregnancy test yet, so for a moment he thought he did something bad.

“This,” you answered in a calm yet cold voice, “This,” you repeated, showing him the positive pregnancy test. It did not take more than a few seconds for Jake to understand the whole situation. Millions of thoughts rushed to his brain, fogging his mind with fear, anxiety, surprise, and confusion. Paralyzed by the crushing news, all he could do was stand there, mouth open like an idiot. The confident and arrogant Hangman had been replaced by a stupid-looking scarecrow. To be true, you would have laughed your arse off if you were not the one pregnant.

“You don’t want this, do you?” You said softly, your sweet voice candy-coated with undeniable sadness. The pregnancy test fell from your hands, for you released it gently on the ground. Jake did not answer, he was unable to do so. The cocky pilot is still staring at you, his green emerald eyes observing each delicate feature of your face as if he expected to find a solution hidden in them. His silence broke your heart - what were you expecting? You were not officially together. Gosh, he did not even love you.

“Yeah, you’re totally ecstatic” You spat sarcasm as a snake spitting poison, “Nevermind, do what you do the best and leave me hanging.” This time you had to turn your head to the side, unable to keep yourself from crying anymore. Crystal tears started to overflow from your eyes, forming wild rivers on your cheeks.

How could you be so beautiful, even when you were crying? Hangman shook his head, coming back to his senses.

“Listen-”

“Serves me right to love the adrenaline of fucking you! Now I’m fucking pregnant, you’re going to leave and I’ll have to stop flying in my jet for at least 9 freaking months!” You started sobbing, hugging yourself in your cold arms. Usually, you made a point of honor not to show any weakness to Hangman, but it was all too much to handle. “I’m so scared…” You whispered to yourself, almost forgetting Jake’s presence. Somehow, your unconscious already did not rely on him to help you.

Jake gathered all his remaining strength, overcoming his own anxiety, and walked towards you. He placed himself between your legs and fell on his knees. His two large and warm hands gently laid on your thighs, massaging their inner parts with his thumbs.

“Then we can be scared together.”

You stopped crying, awestruck by what he just said. Yet, you probably misheard him. Confused, your glimmering eyes looked at him. Jake’s heart melt when your mesmerizing gaze met his: a faint but oh-so-sincere smile stretched his thin lips as he enjoyed the magnificent sight of your face. Your eyes tearing, your sad pout, you looked like an angel someone just hurt. The pilot took a deep breath. From the moment he carried you to bed, kissing your lips in that dark corridor, Jake knew he was fucked. He, who had never fallen in love, was smitten. Smitten with the fearless yet vulnerable pilot you were. And this time, he did not want to fuck it all up.

“I know what you think about me, and I can’t blame you. Hell, I would have probably run away if it had not been you - and I’m not proud of that. But - “ He paused, taking another deep breath in an attempt to organize his thoughts and feelings “ I’ll hold your hand. No matter what happens to us in this life, I’ll be always there to hold your hand.”

“But you don’t love me. You keep telling me we’re just having fun, no strings attached.” You shook your head. “Why would-”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Jake cut you in the middle of your sentence, only to gently cup your adorable face with his hands. His emerald eyes dove into yours, probing your very soul, “Did you ever wonder how you would wake up cozy in your bed after falling asleep in the meeting room? Did you wonder why your fridge never runs out of your favorite drink?” His voice is a bit strict, even though his tone is still coated with tenderness, “Never wondered how there’s always a bucket, a bottle of water, and ibuprofen on your nightstand after you wasted yourself at the Hard Deck?”

“Jake.” You blinked several times.

“I am anxious each time I lost sight of your plane during training and missions. I get fucking jealous every time a dude tries to hit on you” He laughed nervously, shaking his head. Jake’s thumbs gently rubbed your cheeks, “So don’t ever tell me I don’t love you,”

Your heart sunk at his words and your mind gave up all anger at the mere sight of Hangman’s perfect smile. You sniffed, nose a bit runny because of your sobs, and Jake found you even more charming. Unable to proceed properly with what he just said, your tongue reacted quicker than your brain.

“All I want to do is punch you in the face but I love you so much so I don’t mean it.” You pouted, freeing your face from his hands like a sulking kid. Jake could not help but laugh. A hearty laugh, “Fuck, we’re going to have a baby… Got a baby Seresin in my belly…” You whispered, still not believing it, “ What are we going to do now, Jake?”

“I’m going to tell you what we’re going to do.” Jake stood up, his soothing smile turning into his casual cocky, and flat-lipped grin, the kind of grin that made you want to slap his face but also made you want to spread your legs, “Come here!” Without the slightest warning, the blonde pilot carried you bride-style.

“Uh? What the hell Jake?!” You shout, surprised by being suddenly lifted from the edge of the bathtub you were sitting on.

“Well, I’m going to put you in your bed and cover you with warm, cozy blankets. Then, I’m going to buy a huge cup of ice cream we’re going to eat in front of your favorite movie. Disney included. The only exceptions are musicals.” He said, kicking the bathroom door open and laying your body on the comfortable mattress with indescribable tenderness, “Got it?”

“Got it.” You answered with a slight small, your heart beating hard.

Jake winked at you and left the bedroom. Admittedly, he was terrified. He had never thought about having a baby, and here he was, ready to buy ice cream for his pregnant girlfriend. Hell, he was afraid, but he could not deny the sparkle of joy he felt within. He had always been a family man.

As long as you were beside him, he knew everything would be fine.

He closed the bedroom door, turned around, and jumped at the sudden apparition of Bob behind him.

“WHAT THE FUCK MAN! I’m really going to put a damn bell around your neck!” He grumbled, pressing one hand against his pounding heart. “How come you always appear in that damn dark hallway, out of no-fucking-where?”

“Told ya, I snack at night.” The tall WSO said, readjusting his glasses on his nose awkwardly. He stared at Jake for a while, silently.

“What’s your problem, Floyd?” Jake asked, slightly embarrassed.

“You should buy strawberries alongside ice cream. And chocolate. A lot of chocolate. My Aunt would not stop eating chocolate when she was pregnant.”

Jake opened his mouth, struck with surprise. He looked at Bob as if he was some kind of wizard. How the hell did he know that? Bob was starting to scare the hell out of him.

Witnessing the stupefied look on Hangman’s face, the WSO shrugged and opened his own bedroom door. Yet, he took a quick last glance at Jake.

“By the way… Don’t fuck it up, Bagman. She needs you.” He said, before disappearing into his room.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

2 prompts used from @marvelhead17's pregnancy prompts

#hangman imagine #top gun maverick #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x you #hangman x you #hangman fluff #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick x reader #tgm imagine #tgm fic #hangman x reader #Angel In

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sailor-aviator · 1 month

Text

Words to Me Masterlist

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: A collection of one-shots, drabbles, and thoughts/thots about all things related to Angel!Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Content Warning: Angels, Demons, Corruption, Biblical Lore, Smut, Fluff, Angst. More warnings will be added as the collection grows.

All posts regarding Angel!Jake will be tagged with "Angel!Jake".

*Denotes Smut.

Masterlist

One-Shots;

Nothing to see here yet...

Drabbles;

Jake shows you his wings for the first time...

Jake kisses you for the first time...

Thoughts/Thots;

Having sex for the first time...*

Does Jake sing?

Who corrupts who?

Are there consequences?

Jake takes you flying...

How does death work?

Does Jake watch Petal sleep?

Jake with physical affection...

#words to me #wtm #masterlist #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman fanfiction #top gun hangman #hangman top gun #angel!au #angel!jake

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roosterforme · 3 months

Text

Why Not Forever? | Rooster x Reader x Hangman

Summary: The last night on the aircraft carrier should have been bittersweet as Bradley and Jake show you once again how good it feels to be shared by them. But you soon learn that the boys have plans for you beyond this deployment.

Warnings: Smut, anal, threesome, slight hangster, 18+

Length: 1700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader x Jake "Hangman" Seresin

This is a sequel to Why Not Both? and Why Not Again? But it can be read alone! Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley loved that fucked out, starry eyed look on your face as you rode him. You were babbling, barely able to focus, but your every movement was smooth and fluid. You were exactly what he needed. But he knew you'd never end up a begging, whining mess for him alone, and he was okay with that. After weeks of sharing you, maybe he even preferred it this way.

Your pussy was warm and inviting around him as he palmed your tits and squeezed your nipples a little harder. Your body was slick with sweat, only some of it your own. But the best part was the way Bradley could feel Jake's cock shoved up your ass every time one of them thrusted. And he could see Jake behind you on the bed, squeezing your hips and kissing your neck.

"Look at her face, Hangman. She's so far gone." Bradley gently took your chin between his thumb and fingertips and turned your head, showing off your parted, swollen lips and barely focused eyes to the man behind you. "She's beautiful."

"Like an angel," Jake agreed, thrusting a little deeper, making you just that much tighter for Bradley. A long, needy whine filled the air as Jake whispered, "You never had it so good, did you?" You shook your head in a jerky motion, and Bradley watched Jake kiss away a bead of sweat that rolled down the side of your neck.

You were exhausted, clenching softly around his cock when Bradley coaxed you to face him again. Then you muttered the first intelligible word that came from your lips in the last ten minutes. "Please."

He knew you needed to come, and you'd been perfect for the two of them up until now. You had taken care of them before they flew their mission and again directly afterwards, and you'd been spending your nights in their bunk on the carrier ever since. It was to the point that Bradley didn't care who knew about it, and he was getting that distinct feeling from Jake as well.

Bradley leaned forward and wrapped his lips around your nipple, earning another, more intense squeeze from your pussy. When you tried to roll your hips faster, he shook his head "You're close. Let us take care of you."

"Please," you repeated as both men filled you with sharp thrusts, leaving your head rolling back against Jake's shoulder. Bradley was entranced, the sight of your swollen clit brushing his neatly trimmed hair nearly sending him over the edge. He stroked your nipples and smiled as you tried to buck again, only to be stopped by Jake's hands on your hips.

"Easy, Angel," he drawled, and Bradley chuckled. "You'll get there soon enough. We just need a little more time with you first."

"If you didn't feel so fucking good, we'd have been done by now. But you have a way of making us want more and more," Bradley teased. Then he worked his tongue through his own mouth and watched the stream of saliva as he spit where you and he were connected. He ran his thumb through it and said, "But I think you just about earned it," as you whined.

"Please!"

He rubbed your clit a little with his rough fingers, spitting again as Jake released your hips and focused on squeezing your tits from behind instead. "Yeah," he agreed. "She earned it. She always does."

The relief written on your face made Bradley grin as you looked down at him working his fingers in deliberate circles. When he kissed the valley between your breasts, he could taste the salt of your skin and feel Jake's fingers in his cheeks. "Never thought I'd be sorry to see the end of a deployment," he whispered, licking a stripe up to your collarbone. He nibbled on you as Jake grabbed at your breasts a little harder so you cried out. "Never had this much fun before."

Then you reached behind you with one hand and stroked Jake's cheek while you teased Bradley's hair with your other hand. He knew you loved the way they worshipped you. All the dirty glances and winks across the common areas really got him going, but they sent you straight to your knees as soon as you were in their bunk. And the thought occurred to Bradley that it would never be this good with anyone else. He knew there wasn't another woman who stood a chance.

"Fuck," Jake grunted, and Bradley could tell by the way your body was rocking that the man behind you was about come in your ass. "God damn it," he groaned, burying his face in your neck and whining.

You were grinning now as you bounced on both of them, knowing Bradley would make sure you got what you needed. But he had to be certain you knew the price you were paying at this point to be allowed to come on their cocks. Bradley and Jake didn't do this with just anyone, and he needed to be sure you understood that. Be sure this wasn't the last time.

"How bad do you want it?" Bradley rasped, pinching your clit and ramming himself deep.

"So bad!" you cried out as Jake's movements became more erratic.

"Say it," Bradley demanded through gritted teeth, sweat beading on his forehead. "Tell me you belong to us. And not just for tonight." He was close now, but he kept rubbing you just right and coaxing you to keep your eyes on him. "We want you in San Diego too, Baby."

Jake's hands roamed the font of your body as he moaned against your skin, and Bradley watched your pupils grow wider as your thighs shook. Your pussy clenched around him as you managed to say, "I'm yours."

You came with Bradley, your lips meeting his as he fucked you all the way through your orgasm. Your kisses were sweet even as you were a cum filled mess for the two of them, and you let Bradley pull you down with him as he eased himself back onto the pillows to catch his breath.

"She's ours," he confirmed for Jake who was kissing your shoulder as you curled up on Bradley's chest. Then he pressed his lips to your hair and whispered, "Our good girl."

Bradley could feel Jake's softening cock on his thigh as he came to rest against your back. You coaxed Jake closer and closer while you kissed Bradley, and then you shared your kisses with one man and then the other until the three of you were kissing. Bradley couldn't wait to get back to California.

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

You weren't sure what you were expecting when the guys both invited you over to Bradley's place a few days after the end of the deployment. The three of you had spent that last night all curled up in one bed together, sweat and cum and sweet, dirty talk everywhere. You shivered just thinking about the way it felt to be sandwiched between their strong bodies in every position imaginable. They made you feel sexy and safe.

You wanted more from them, but you hadn't dared to dream that it could continue here. That sharing you had become something they wanted as much as you did. You'd never be able to choose between Bradley's effortless allure and Jake's natural charisma. You wanted both, and you shivered with anticipation at seeing them here on dry land.

They'd never seen you in anything except your khaki uniforms and your most basic underwear, but something was telling you that tonight was going to be a little different. As you slowly made your way up the pathway from your car, you straightened your dress over your pretty lingerie. You wanted them to destroy all of it.

Almost immediately after you knocked, the front door swung open, and you were met with two pairs of eyes, green and brown, raking over your body like they'd been craving you for months. "Boys," you said smoothly as you squeezed between the two of them and into the living room. You couldn't help but add, "I missed you," as you spun around to face them with a smile.

"You have no idea," Jake drawled, kicking the door shut and closing the distance to your lips. He kissed you, wrapping his hand gently around your neck as he said, "We got you a little something."

His smirk matched Bradley's as the other man pressed himself against your backside. "Something pretty for you to wear," he added, his voice a deep rumble.

"What is it?" you asked, looking up at Jake as Bradley snaked one arm around your waist from behind. When he opened his hand in front of your chest, you looked down at his palm and saw a gold necklace with two charms that made you gasp.

"You like it?" Bradley asked next to your ear, his mustache sending a ripple of need along your skin when he grazed you.

"Yes," you whispered, your body already clenching.

Jake looked at you eagerly as he asked, "Will you let me put it on you, Angel?"

"Please," you whined, knowing you sounded exactly like you had in their bunk on the aircraft carrier. You watched his fingertips glide along Bradley's palm, and then both of them were kissing you as he clasped the chain around your neck. The cool charms settled against your skin, and you let them lead you toward the bedroom.

You couldn't be sure who was talking to you and who was touching you in your blissed out state, but you could feel fingers tangle in your new necklace chain. You would have to strategically hide the charms that said Bradley and Jake underneath your uniform shirts when you were at work, because you weren't going to be taking your necklace off anytime soon.

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

Living the dream. We are living the damn dream. I had a lot of fun with this. Maybe there will be more of these three. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year

Text

Lessons in Love.

Bucky didn't believe in love at first sight. Then he met you.

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings - None

Word Count - 3615

Author's Note - hello gorgeous people, hope you're all doing well. writing this has made my heart so full, and I hope it makes you feel the same. requests are always open and more than encouraged!! currently working on a stunning jake seresin request that's just so lovely. i'm SO open to more jake requests, but also any marvel, top gun maverick, criminal minds, narcos and any others you have in mind!! just send them over, and I'll see what I can do. as always, so much love x

Masterlist. Requests.

“No way. How is that even possible?”

You look at the bewildered man in front of you and can’t help but smile.

“It’ll play anything you want it to. Anything in the world. Just ask it!” you encourage, beaming grin still plastered on your face.

“Alexa,” he says tentatively, “play Marvin Gaye.”

The first notes of Trouble Man begin to sound through your apartment, and his eyes light up. He’s looking at you like you’ve discovered something completely revolutionary.

You laugh – a real, genuine, delighted sound that flows through Bucky like a beam of light, illuminates his bones, makes his heart beat that little bit faster.

Grabbing your notebook, you delicately place a check next to Number 26 – voice-controlled devices. Number 27 is air fryers. Number 28 is Bluetooth. Number 29 is kindles and e-readers. Number 30 is Doordash. You’ve already checked off Spotify, and ATMs, and Google, and online banking, amongst many others. A list of things to better integrate Bucky into the 21st Century. A list of things to make him feel less like a man out of time. A list of things that allow you to spend all the time with him that you can.

A warm hand on your left hip and a cold one on your right pull you back into reality.

“Dance with me.” he murmurs. “Let me teach you something, for once.”

Before you can process his words, he’s gliding across the kitchen with you in his arms. Trouble Man isn’t playing anymore, instead replaced with something slower, richer. Bucky hasn’t taken his eyes off you, not even for a second. He’s watching your every move, every expression, every twitch of your lips. Reading you like a book.

You bring your hands to rest around his neck, and he relaxes into you. He’s leading, swaying you gently, occasionally twirling you like a ballerina in a music box. Perfectly effortless. He’s good at this.

The sun is setting, casting a warm orange hue across the kitchen. The light is reflecting onto your hair, making you glow, giving you a halo. Angelic, he thinks. My guardian angel.

You close the space between your bodies, wrapping your arms around his middle. Resting your head on his chest, he prays you can’t hear how his heart is working overtime. You shut your eyes, and breathe him in. He smells faintly like the Bakery, like sugar and coffee and cinnamon. The place that started it all.

　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵

When Bucky first moved into his apartment, he’d noticed the Bakery down the street immediately. The smell of cake and coffee drifted out of the lilac colored door, enticing him in. He resisted the urge, and told himself that he’d go inside tomorrow.

The next day, he stood outside of the red brick building, and read the menu on the noticeboard carefully. Then he reread it. And then read it again. Since when was coffee so complicated? And don’t even get him started on cake. He swore there was only a few types back in the forties. Now, there was at least fifty different kinds on this menu alone. He was overwhelmed. He thought he’d be able to walk into this Bakery, get some coffee, maybe something sweet, and leave content. Instead, he's stood on the sidewalk on the verge of a panic attack. Tomorrow, he thinks to himself. I’ll go in tomorrow.

Tomorrow never comes. Every day, he takes a walk, and purposely passes the building that he longs to go into. But somehow, he can never find the courage. He knows he’ll just look like an idiot if he walks in. He’ll look lost, and out of place, and everyone will laugh and mutter. Look, they’ll jeer, The Winter Soldier can’t even order a coffee.

And so, he spares himself the pain. Lets his feet carry him past, only slowing down slightly when he passes the lilac door. Every day for three months, he takes the same route. Willing himself to go in, to find the courage. It’s just coffee, he tells himself. Get a grip.

Until, one day, you decided to change his life, unknowingly. Or maybe knowingly. He’s still not sure.

He takes his usual path, and just as he gets to the lilac door – you’re there. Stood, waiting, soft smile on your face. Bucky panics, and wills his feet to move faster, to take him away from this inevitably awkward situation. You stop him before he can make a run for it.

“Hi.”

Oh. You’re talking to him. You’re staring into his soul with no judgment, or fear, or trepidation. You’re staring into his soul with gentleness. Kindness. Friendship. He’s terrified.

“Uh – hi.” He rubs the back of his neck. Nervous habit.

“So, uh, I hope this isn’t weird, or anything. But, I’ve been watching you walk past every day for like three months, and, well…” you trail off. Now you look nervous. “Actually, I haven’t really thought this far ahead. I just see you, and I wanted to… invite you in, I guess? Not that you need an invite, of course not, we’re open to everyone, but… you always look like you’re going to come in, and then you never do. And I’ve been telling myself for months that I should properly invite you in, but now I’m realising this is, uh, really weird. And I’m sorry.”

You still have that gentle smile on your face, but it’s more tentative now. A dusting of pink is making its way onto your cheeks, and Bucky thinks it might be his new favourite color.

It’s now that he really starts to take you in. Your hair is blowing slightly in the breeze, and the sleeves of your sweater are pulled down over your wrists, to try and keep the New York chill at bay. You have bright, inquisitive eyes – eyes that contain hope, love, laughter. You make him feel almost peaceful. No one makes him feel like that. Damn.

You’ve stepped closer to him now, to get out of the way of the customers making their way through the door. You smell like sugar, and coffee, and optimism. He wants to breathe you in, let you settle in his lungs. A comfortable warmth spreads through his chest.

He decides to take a gamble and bear his truth to you. He’s not sure why, but he trusts you. He doesn’t trust anyone, these days. But he trusts you.

“Can I be honest with you?”, he asks, looking at you expectantly. You’re almost expecting him to laugh in your face at the absurdity of it all. You nod anyway, signalling for him to continue.

“I’ve been trying to work up the courage to come in. But every time I try, I just, uh-” he stutters, and you can tell that his mind is screaming at him, sounding alarm bells, begging him to stop with all this sudden vulnerability.

“It’s overwhelming, right?” you ask, cutting him off. Saving him. Guardian angel.

You see the relief in his body at your question. His fists unclench, the tension leaves his shoulders. He smiles bashfully. Half grateful, half embarrassed. You get it.

“Yeah,” he chuckles. You giggle, and he’s convinced that the melodious sound will circle around in his mind forever, like the Earth orbiting the Sun.

You fiddle with the strings of your mint green apron, and look at him. You’re gazing at him so earnestly that he’s worried he might spontaneously combust.

“Are you busy tonight?” you ask suddenly, and he feels so dizzy he’s concerned momentarily that he’s going to pass out.

“Uh, no. I’m not,” he replies, managing to force the words out of his mouth.

“We close at 6, so meet me here at 7.”

You still have that sparkle in your eye. He couldn’t say no to you if he tried.

“Why?” he queries. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t absolutely petrified at the turn the conversation has taken.

“I want to show you around. Maybe make you a coffee, introduce you to some of my favourite things. You won’t believe how good my raspberry and white chocolate cookies are. They’re best sellers for a reason,” you beam at him.

Beaming. He wonders how he’s lived his whole life without your light illuminating his universe. Anywhere he goes without you is going to feel so dark, he thinks. How did I ever live like this?

He manages to pull himself together to smile back at you. His first genuine grin in God knows how long. He’s forgotten what joy feels like, and he’s almost drunk on it now.

He agrees to your plan, and you turn on your heel, about to make your way back inside.

“Wait!” he yells, louder than intended. “What’s your name?”

Your lips turn up into a smirk, mischief seeping out of your pores.

“Come back at 7 and find out.” You wink at him, and he has to take a few deep breaths in order to stay conscious. With that, you leave him alone on the sidewalk, where he’s silently thanking the universe for dropping you in his lap. Finally, he thinks. The cosmic punishment is over.

He does come back at 7. In fact, he’s stood outside waiting at 6:45. He can see you mopping the floor, singing as you go. His supersoldier hearing allows him to listen to your voice, even from this far away. He’s never been more grateful for the thing he used to call a curse. He’d be cursed every damn day if it meant he got to listen to you like this.

At 6:58, you appear at the lilac door, beckoning him to follow you inside. He knows that stepping over that threshold is going to change him fundamentally. He can’t wait.

Upon entering, he’s hit with the smell of cinnamon, sugar, coffee, and you. A beautiful mix of all three. Without a second thought, he reaches out with his right hand, and gently brushes some flour from your cheekbone.

“Bucky,” he murmurs.

You can’t tear your eyes away from him. Lips slightly parted, chest heaving, it takes you a minute to register that he spoke.

“What?” you ask, dazed by the handsome stranger with the steel blue eyes.

“My name,” he speaks softly. “It’s Bucky.”

You smile knowingly, and take a deep breath. It’s overwhelming, meeting someone that you know is going to be in your life forever. You’re both feeling the same, neither of you sure just quite what to do.

You grab his left hand, sighing quietly in relief at the feeling the cool metal against your heated skin. Leading him gently, he lets you guide him through the front of the store, until you stop behind the counter. He’s convinced he’d let you lead him anywhere, as long as he gets to feel your skin, soft and warm, on his. Grounding. Comforting. Easy.

“What kind of milk do you like?” you ask, fingers still intertwined with his.

“There’s more than one kind of milk?”

Bucky looks so disorientated, that you want to kiss the confused expression off his face. You chuckle softly, and the sound bounces off the metal in the room, twinkling around him.

“We have cows’ milk, oat milk, almond milk and soy milk.” You take one look at him, and decide to change course. “Let’s start with something less complex, actually. Any allergies I should know about?”

He shakes his head, mischievous grin beginning to form on his handsome face. There he is, you think. He’s with me.

“I’m going to make you a latte. It’s milky, and not too strong or too sweet. I think you’ll like it.”

She thinks I’ll like it, he muses. And he trusts you - whether it be with his life, or just a cup of coffee.

You reluctantly let go of his hand, and begin to flit around, gathering everything you need. Bucky leans back against the counter and watches carefully. He watches the way you bite your lip when you measure out the milk. He watches the way the steam from the coffee machine blows your hair back from your face gently. He watches the way you’re trying to make everything perfect. He can’t remember the last time someone paid attention to him like this. His mind is telling him to sprint in the opposite direction, to excuse himself and never come back. He’s terrified. But he stays. I deserve this, he thinks. I deserve something good.

You pull him from his thoughts by handing him the mug of warm coffee. He takes it from you carefully, and, without breaking eye contact, takes a sip. He smiles, really smiles. That’s all the validation you needed.

“Let me show you where we bake everything,” you say quietly, as if you’re afraid to burst this bubble of warmth and trust you’ve created. You’re scared he’s going to bolt if you give him the chance. So, you don’t. You take his hand once more, and guide him through to the kitchen.

“Have you done much baking in your life, Bucky?”

No, he thinks. But I will. I’ll bake everyday for the rest of my life if it means you’ll love me. If you’ll make me coffee and smile at me like that.

Instead, he answers cautiously.

“Not really. I’d like to, though.” He adds that last part bashfully. You smile back at him earnestly.

“Well then you’re in the right place,” you wink. He has the overwhelming urge to drop to his knees. To pray at your altar. To worship you like an angel sent down just for him. He’s surprised he’s still stood on two feet.

Before he can even register what’s happening, you’re beginning to create a mixture for your infamous cookies. You direct him to stir, while you add meticulously measured ingredients into the bowl.

“Put those arms to good use,” you’d smirked, and a blush had risen up to his cheeks almost instantly.

You click the radio on, and a soft, jazzy melody begins to drift through the room. You’re humming quietly, gliding around the kitchen, and he decides that this is it for him. You’re it for him. He could watch you do this every day and die a happy man.

Cookies baking in the oven, you jump up to sit on one of the counters. Bucky moves to stand in between your legs, still being careful to keep his distance ever so slightly. He knows if he touches you, he won’t ever want to let go.

“This wasn’t as scary as I thought it was going to be,” he confesses.

“What, me?” you tease.

“No. Coffee. And cookies,” he chuckles.

“Are there lots of things that you haven’t done because you find them scary?” you ask genuinely. You want to know him. All of him. Fears, wants, quirks. All of it.

“Yeah, actually. The world is so different now. I don’t really know where to start. It’s all terrifying, honestly,” he laughs. You laugh with him, but you know there’s truth to his words. You want to wrap your arms around him. He may be 6 foot tall and made of solid muscle and vibranium, but you want to protect him.

“Why don’t we do it together?”

A pause. He’s confused again.

“Do what together?”

“All of it. The learning. I’ll help you. Everything is less scary if you do it with someone else.”

It’s now that he’s convinced he’s dreaming. You can’t be real. Why would you be here, offering him everything, after all that he’s done? He has to remind himself. I deserve this. I deserve something good.

You can sense his trepidation, so you keep talking.

“Why don’t we make a list? You write down the things you want to learn about. I’ll write down other things I think you should know. You’ll be an expert on the 21st Century before long, Buck.”

Buck. The nickname sounds like a gift coming from your lips.

“Okay. Yeah. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

The anxiety is coming off him in waves. He’s panicking. You grab a hold of both of his hands, and place one on each of your legs, just above your knees. He steps in closer, and takes a breath. You’re warm, and you’re soft, and you’re love personified. He’s okay.

“Of course I don’t mind. I’m excited!” you assure him. Then, quieter, “It means I get to spend more time with you.”

He aims a beaming, megawatt smile in your direction. He feels as if his nerve endings are alight. You’ve awoken something in him. He’d forgotten what it was like to feel like this. To feel alive.

You reach over and grab your notebook. In it, you simply write his name, followed by a love heart. Then, underneath, you begin to list everything you can think of that you want to teach him. You hand the list to him, and he adds his own requests. Between you, you manage to write 50 different lessons.

“Perfect. We’ll start with number one, and work our way down. Are you busy tomorrow evening?”

He chuckles at your eagerness, but secretly, he can’t wait. He knows he’ll be counting down the hours until he can see you again.

“Nope, I’m not. You are my only priority, sweetheart.”

The term of endearment seeps into your skin, settles in your ribcage. You’re convinced it’ll warm you up from the inside out. If he keeps calling you sweetheart in that Brooklyn drawl of his, you’ll never be cold again.

　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵ 　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵

You’re not sure if you’ve been swaying in your kitchen with Bucky to Marvin Gaye for 2 minutes or 2 hours. You’re comfortably settled into him, as if the space in his arms was made especially for you. Maybe it was.

Bucky’s voice breaks through the solitude.

“You know, I’ve created my own list,” he murmurs against the top of your hair, where he’s resting his head.

You pull back, still in his arms, to look at him carefully.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Read it, and tell me what you think.”

He untangles himself from you and crosses the room, to retrieve his leather-bound notebook. He returns, and places it carefully in your awaiting hands.

You flick open the cover to reveal the first page. You recognise his handwriting instantly. It’s spiralling, and imperfect, but so Bucky. At the top of the page, you spot the title – your name, with a love heart next to it. Exactly the same as you’d done for him when you’d originally created your list together.

Underneath your name, only one thing is written.

I love you.

You look up at him, to see him watching you, holding his breath. Neither of you know what to say. You know what you want to say. You want to tell him that you hope the list never ends, so you always have an excuse to spend time with him. You want to tell him that you watched him walk past the door of the Bakery every day for 3 months because you thought he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. You want to tell him that every time he looks at you, you feel as if you’re going to pass out. You want to tell him that you can recognise him anywhere, by touch or smell alone. Instead, you say,

“You do?”

That genuine, million dollar smile is back, etched on his face. He’s glowing, light radiating from his bones.

“Yes. I do. I think I’ve loved you ever since I saw you waiting for me on the doorstep of the Bakery that day.”

You think you might be floating. Levitating above ground, fuelled by love. You laugh.

“That’s the exact moment I fell in love with you.”

He laughs with you, then. You could get drunk off the sound.

“I didn’t think love at first sight was a real thing. I thought I was going crazy,” he confesses.

He’s convinced that the two of you have discovered something, invented it even. Because he doesn’t understand. If love feels like this, so all encompassing, so consuming – how does anyone live? Every moment of every day, Bucky thinks of you. How does anyone go to work? How does anyone ever feel sad, or angry, when love like this exists?

You drop the notebook and cross the room to him. He closes the gap, and throws his arms around you, spinning you in circles, laughing with joy. He sets you back on your feet, and tilts your chin up, so you’re looking into his steel blue eyes. You could drown in the ocean of his irises if he let you.

He leans down, and presses his lips to yours. He’s giving you all of the love, the joy, the laughter – everything good that he has ever felt, because of you – through his kiss. Your knees go weak, and he holds you up by your waist, his strong arms encircling your frame. He tastes like coffee, and sugar, and promises. You’ll never want to taste anything else.

Eventually, you break away for air. You gaze up at him, and he sees sunshine in your eyes. He’s not sure what he did to earn a love like this. You seem to sense his doubts creeping in, because you say, in the most assured voice he’s ever heard –

“No one has ever loved anyone as much as I love you.”

I deserve this, he thinks. I deserve something good.

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bradshawssugarbaby · 1 month

Text

Angel In the Infield - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Bradley Bradshaw is a struggling first-baseman in the major leagues. He's had bad season after bad season, until he met you, his angel.

A/N: While I'm currently struggling with motivation to work on on Take One for the Team, please instead enjoy this baseball au fic I've done in the meantime! Also I started reading sports romance novels, pls send help half these men are baseball players with dark hair. Also if you like this concept/set up, I'm toying with the idea of making this a series of connected oneshots?

pairing: baseball player!Bradley Bradshaw x reader

warnings/content: baseball au, smut throughout, oral (both m + f receiving), praise, dirty talk, mentions of divorce, unfaithfulness (neither Bradley, nor reader), public sex.

word count: 3.7k

taglist (also tagging those who were interested in Take One For The Team since it's a similar vibe and explains the lack of updates lol): @avengersfan25, @jessicab1991, @atarmychick007, @b-bradshaw, @nouis-bum, @mamachasesmayhem, @floydsmuse, @kmc1989, @dckweed, @katfanfic, @nerdgirljen, @whatislovevavy, @mrsevans90, @averyhotchner, @yuckosworld, @tgmreader, @allepaula, @lourd-ita, @mariaenchanted

The sun hung high on the horizon for a Saturday afternoon, radiating an unseasonable warmth as its rays beat down over the course. A gentle breeze made its way through the palm trees that stood tall outside of the stadium, causing large, deep green leaves to sway in its wake. A crowd of spectators sat on the bleachers that surrounded the diamond, a sea of faces filling the scenery, silently watching, sipping beers and eating hotdogs as they took in the spectacle before them. Media representatives dotted the balcony, press passes on display as they gawked at the game unfolding below.

Bradley Bradshaw approached the plate, lining up to take his turn at bat. His bright white uniformed baseball shirt, emblazoned with the team logo across the front, his last name in bold, block lettering across the back of his broad shoulders, hugged at his sun kissed biceps as they flexed. One of his tattoos just barely visible from under the sleeve of the shirt.

He took two practice swings, and once he was comfortable, lined up with the plate. He narrowed his eyes in focus as he looked to the pitcher, giving him the coldest stare down he could muster, his face fixed in a state of concentration. A year and a half ago, he would have begun trash-talking his opponent from the start, calling out that he’d seen his grandmother lob better pitches, and she’d been dead for 15 years. Instead, Bradley forced himself to behave, willing any inappropriate comments about Jake Seresin’s mother to himself, for now.

He took a swing at the first pitch lobbed towards him with a loud grunt, biting his tongue as he held back a frustrated fuck from his lips as the ball sailed past him, landing in the catcher’s mitt with a thud.

Strike one.

He caught your gaze in the sea of faces that were watching him expectantly, his lips curling up into a soft smile as he looked towards the family and friends boxes where you stood, waving subtly to him to gain his attention. He gave you a subtle nod of his head, symbolic of a thank you, for Bradley.

In an instant, Bradley was back in the game, level-headed and laser focused, ready for the next pitch that was coming, as if seeing you had brought him back down to earth, willing him to focus his attention on something other than his once uncontrollable anger.

He wasn’t often this soft. He never used to be. In fact, he was never considered to be a gentleman when he played any sport. He couldn’t lose graciously. It wasn’t in his nature. He was serious, determined and reserved, focused and dedicated, but even his best intended plans couldn’t withstand his explosive temper. It wasn’t that he wanted to be a walking stick of dynamite.

He didn’t intend to fly off the handle at everyone around if he made a bad play or if someone commented on his skills not being on point the way they once were, but after nothing but criticism for the last four years of his career, Bradley thought his outbursts were justifiable.

If he had to hear another comment about being “washed up” at thirty-one, he might snap again, unable to bite his tongue much longer. And if he had a bat in hand? He’d show whoever it was just how good his game still was. He knew his career didn’t have many years left in it, but he had just as much right as any other up and coming young asshole in the MLB to be here. But one bad year at twenty-seven had turned into two, which turned into three, which now crept up on reaching four.

Admittedly, this year was turning out to be marginally better than the three previous - he didn’t know what to chalk it up to at first.

Herefused to admit he could be in love. Love was never for him. At least, that’s what his ex-wife told him when she filed for divorce four years prior. He’d just been starting to make a name for himself as a promising first baseman when she served him the papers, leaving him with a burning desire to focus everything he had on the one thing that he thought couldn’t break him - baseball. That desperate need to be good at something, anything, drove him to the brink of insanity. He couldn’t control himself or his need to be the best in the only area he knew he could be anymore.

However, that train of thought came to a screeching, grinding halt when he met you.

As Bradley remained focused on his turn at bat, he took a swing at the second pitch sent his way, a fastball that, if he was a smart man, he would have let go, taking the ball instead of risking a strike at a pitch that far outside.

However, Bradley was not a smart man. Not when it came to his turns at bat.

Even he couldn’t hide his momentary shock as the ball made contact with the wooden bat in his hands with a crack. He started running towards first base, rounding it quickly before making the smarter decision to stay put, rather than aim for second. He looked towards where you were watching him from once again, smiling to himself as he watched you blow a kiss towards him. He couldn’t wait to finish this game and just hold you and kiss you. Watch you walk around the house with nothing but his baseball jersey on, just barely long enough on you to cover your private areas, giving him a little sneak peek as you bent over to unload the dishwasher, or reached up to grab a wine glass for yourself when you were ready to unwind for the evening.

Those delicious thighs, soft and smooth as he ran his hands up and down them, the way you’d giggle and kick your legs playfully when he grasped at the back of them, even though he knew you were ticklish there. He didn’t give a rat’s ass though. He loved the way you laughed. He swore it was up there on the list of the most beautiful sounds in the world, along with the way you said his name right before you reached your orgasm, the way you’d call him ‘honey’ in passing and the sound of a World Series crowd chanting your number.

Images of his hands lifting the back of that jersey up, shoving the excess material at the bottom out of his way as he pounded into you from behind flashed across his mind, the sounds of you whining out in pleasure as he relentlessly fucked into you, your pretty, pink folds glistening with arousal, letting him slide in and out of you with ease. The thought alone was almost enough to make him curse the athletic cup that was sitting in his baseball pants at the moment, making it increasingly uncomfortable to move as he felt himself hardening at the thought of you.

Fuck, he couldn’t wait to take you in the hotel room later.

As he rounded the bases to home after his teammate’s home run hit, his mind drifted to the thought of your teeth sinking into the tanned, taut skin of his shoulder as he made love to you in the California King Bed that awaited you both in the hotel suite after the game. Your fingers gripping his dark curly hair tightly, tangling into them and tugging as he licked and sucked on your neck, leaving a trail of purpling bite marks down you as he marked you as his own. Not that you protested - in fact, you encouraged it.

As the game progressed, Bradley continued to think about the various ways he could make you his as soon as he got you alone. His mind raced as he thought of you again - in every way possible. He thought about your perfume, how it had some kind of hypnotic hold over him, leaving him momentarily dazed whenever he breathed in your scent. He thought about your smile, how you lit up the entire room when you beamed at him - how you were one of the only people to ever look at him like he meant everything in the world to you, and how you made him feel special and loved and wanted, for the first time in years. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt the way you made him feel.

His ex-wife had been cold and cut-off from him emotionally, physically. She was never satisfied just being with him. She resented that he couldn’t put all of his attention on her, 100% of the time, despite Bradley feeling like he tried his best to balance his career and home life as best as he could. When she had told him she was ready to have a baby, he’d been entirely on board - ready and willing to start a family. What he wasn’t prepared for, was walking in on her sleeping with a rookie from a rival team in the hotel room that Bradley had paid for.

As he packed up his gear after the game, his team pulling ahead with a win thanks to a home run hit he scored in the 8th inning that shocked even him, he let out a deep, satisfied sigh. He had proved himself for another day, and he was proud of himself for it. He figured at this rate, if he kept it up, he could be discussing his comeback season with the press after another couple of games. The thought of being respected once again in the sport was electrifying, enough to send a shockwave pulsating through his veins as he switched out of his cleats and into his street shoes.

He headed out of the locker room, his baseball bag slung over his shoulder and his cap turned backwards, with tufts of dark chestnut brown curls peaking out through the opening. He spotted you, wearing one of his spare jerseys unbuttoned with a short little black dress on underneath, with a pair of stark white running shoes. Your matching baseball cap was sported backwards, just like Bradley’s, a style he started adopting on your advice. You’d flipped his cap around one day during a playful round of sex in the backseat of his vintage Ford Bronco, telling him it looked so much hotter on him when he wore it so that you could still see his face. He took that advice to heart, and now, every chance he could, backwards is how it was.

You happily skipped over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck loosely as you peppered his lips with feather-light kisses. He laughed softly and shook his head when you finally pulled away, his cheeks burning into a rosy red tone as a slight wave of embarrassment washed over him.

It wasn’t your kisses or affection that embarrassed him though. It was the fact that after 18 months of dating, he still wasn’t used to it. It was partially his own fault — his ex-wife had never been an affectionate lover, but even after that, he refused to actually be in a relationship with anyone. He enjoyed sex, and that was all he wanted. He wasn’t looking for his heart to be broken again, and it suited him just fine until you came along.

He’d met you once in passing — he’d gotten himself embroiled in a bar brawl with some guy who’s mouth ran faster than the speed of light. Bradley’s nose had been broken and bloodied as a result, and you’d been leaving the bar with a handful of friends. You’d recognized Bradley as the guy who’d hit on you earlier in the night, and to your surprise, graciously accepted your rejection when you turned him down. When you saw him in this light though, drunk and vulnerable, you felt sorry for him.

Taking a couple of tissues from your purse, you helped clean up his face as best as you could, sending your friends on their way without you as you took on this newfound role of nurse to him. With few other options to stop his nosebleed, you’d handed him a tampon from your purse. He laughed initially, in complete and total refusal to use it. You had gestured to his floral print white polo shirt, the collar now stained with drips of blood from his face. He huffed a sigh and followed your advice, grumbling as you insisted on making awkward small talk as you sat and waited with him to get checked out.

That was the first time since his mother’s passing that anyone had ever shown Bradley an ounce of compassion when he was injured. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol talking or not , but he could have sworn you were an angel with the way you smiled at him and how soothing he found your voice.

Now, eighteen months later, standing here with your arms wrapped around him, his hands on your waist as you fussed over him and congratulated him on his performance in this afternoon’s game, he was sure. You were heaven sent.. In fact, it was what he called you — angel. He’d decided early on it was the perfect nickname for you, and as time went on, he only proved himself right.

“Everyone’s left, right?” You asked him, raising an eyebrow at him as he snapped back to reality, shooting a quick glance behind his shoulder.

“Mhmm. I was the last one out of the showers. Looks like it’s just us left here.”

“Perfect. I have a little something for you.”

“Do you?” He inquired, eyebrows raised as he smirked, a million ideas running through his head at what his surprise could be.

Together, you walked back towards the now deserted dugout, the ballpark that was roaring with excitement an hour ago was now silent, deserted by players and fans alike. You grinned as you turned around to face Bradley, dropping down to your knees in front of him, gazing up at him with a doe-eyed stare that was almost enough to make him groan out in pleasure.

“Wh-you mean, this is my surprise? You’re gonna suck my dick in the dugout, angel?”

“I know you’ve always wanted me to. And you played so good today, honey. How could I say no?” You purred as you undid the belt holding his pants in place.

He dropped his baseball pants down to his ankles, and before his hands could remove the tight fitting boxer briefs he’d changed into post-game, your mouth was pressed against the tightening bulge, pressing warm kisses to it in a way that made Bradley’s mind foggy. He couldn’t think straight and he wasn’t even in your mouth yet.

Fuck.

He knew he wouldn’t last long if this was how worked up he was feeling at your mouth touching him. As you tugged his boxers down, peeling them off his thighs to free his cock. A white bead of pre-cum pearled on his tip, leading Bradley to elicit a pornographic moan as your thumb swiped across it, whisking the liquid away before you began pumping your hand up and down his shaft. You tauntingly flicked your tongue out over the tip of his erection, encircling the red, throbbing head with a trail of saliva before licking a strip along the underside to his balls. Bradley shuddered as he felt you continue to lick up and down his length, your hand pumping him tightly when you alternated and pressed your lips to the tip.

After what felt to Bradley like an eternity, you took his tip past your parted lips, hollowing your cheeks as you began to suck on his cock like it was some kind of refreshing summer treat. As you took him further back in your mouth, your saliva began to pool around his shaft, dribbling out down his length as you tried to take more of him into you. He grunted your name as he gathered your hair in his hand, gripping tightly as he thrusted his hips forward into your mouth.

You gagged as you felt his tip brush the back of your throat, causing more of your spit to soak his cock, your hand using it as lubrication as you continued to pump on whatever didn’t fit past your lips. Bradley began panting, gasping and singing your praises as he fucked your mouth. Your eyelids fluttered as you shut them for a quick moment to concentrate yourself on your technique until you felt a hand gently squeezing your cheeks, making your mouth seemingly tighten harder around Bradley.

“Nuh, uh, beautiful. Eyes on me,” he directed.

You gazed up at him with that same doe-eyed stare again, batting your lashes as you watched his facial expression, his eyes shutting as he enjoyed the feel of your mouth as it sucked and licked at his cock, working him into his orgasm.

“Shit, angel, ‘m’not gonna last,” Bradley panted, deep chocolate brown eyes fixated on you as he watched you pull your mouth back from him almost entirely before thrusting yourself fully into him.

His lids shut again as he drew his head back, saying your name as if it was a hymn he was singing. He let out a deep, throaty grunt as he shot hot, white ropes of his cum down your throat. Your eyes never left his as you swallowed hard, making sure that he could see you as you did it before pulling yourself back off his cock. Pulling yourself to your feet, you wiped the saliva from your mouth with the back of your hand, grinning proudly at the mess you’d made out of Bradley.

His eyes deepened with a burning, lustful hunger for you as he wrapped his arm around your waist, picking you up off your feet and grinning.

“I gotta return the favour, now, angel. You know the rules. You wear a pretty little skirt like that, and I just have to eat that pussy of yours.” He said matter-of-factly as he pulled his bottoms back up, chuckling to himself as he tightened his belt back up. “Bet you did it on purpose, didn’t you, honey? Knew I wouldn’t be able to resist eating that perfect little cunt of yours if you wore something like this?”

“I may have been thinking something along those lines,” you teased, shrugging your shoulders as he laid you down on the bench.

He straddled the bench in front of your legs and tutted his tongue at you, giving you a head shake of disapproval before raising an eyebrow at you.

“Angel, come on, spread those pretty thighs of yours nice and wide for me. Throw your legs over my shoulders if you have to.”

You obeyed his command, biting down on your lip as you fought back a grin, draping your legs over his broad shoulders as he slipped between them, his mouth hovering just over your folds. He pressed his lips to your inner thigh, nipping at the sensitive skin with his teeth. You let out a soft yelp of pleasure, feeling your body writhe at the mere suggestion of Bradley’s mouth down there on you.

“Look at you,” Bradley purred as he spread your folds apart with two thick fingers. “So pretty and wet for me already? Sucking my cock got you all worked up like this?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, trying to concentrate your thoughts into a sentence.

“C’mon, honey, use your words for me. Wanna hear you say it,” Bradley said as he flicked his tongue out, swiping it across your swollen, sensitive clit.

“Bradley,” you whined as you arched your back at the slow, sensual teasing, “You know exactly why I’m like this already.”

“Mhmm, my perfect angel,” he cooed as he licked at your folds again, gathering your arousal on his tongue.

As Bradley’s tongue ravaged you, eating you out like a man starved on a desert island for the last few months, your heart began to race, a burning desire brewing in the pit of your stomach. While Bradley’s tongue lapped at your arousal, he delved two thick fingers into your pulsating core, pumping them into your g-spot. You could picture him grinning to himself as he heard your needy, whiny moans, panting his name as if it was the only word you were able to say anymore. That was just how he liked it though - making it so he was the only thing on your mind. He prided himself on it.

Your thighs began to shake as he dug the fingers of his free hand into your flesh, holding you in place. He pulled his mouth away from you for a moment with a loud suck. You whimpered at the loss of contact, looking down at him from beneath hooded lids as he continued to fuck his fingers deeper into you.

“That’s it, angel. I played my best for you today, wanted to do right, earn this pretty little pussy of yours. Make it mine,” he husked.

Your walls clenched down tightly around his fingers as he spoke, the words alone enough to send you over the edge. He pressed his lips to your clit once again, giving it a long, tantalizing suck as he drew your orgasm out of you. Instead of his name, this time all you could get out of your mouth was a breathless, blissed out moan, unable to formulate words as your brain fogged. Bradley continued to praise you, coaching you through your climax like a personal trainer coaching you through a workout.

He drew his hand up to his mouth, sucking on his fingers until they were clean, his wide tongue pressing flat against them before pulling them out of his mouth with a loud pop. You blinked twice at him, still dazed from your orgasm as he pulled your underwear back up your legs.

“You ok, angel?” Bradley grinned as he tapped your thigh gently with his hand to try and bring you back to reality. Your blissfully fucked out stare was all he needed, a soft smile on your face as you tried to regain your composure.

“We’re just getting started, baby. I’ve got 48 hours with you before my next game, I’m making each one of those hours count.”

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