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novastories · 7 months

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Flashlight

Title and chapter loosely inspired the song “Flashlight” by Hailee Steinfield.

Summary: Sometimes, family and friends are the people you look for even in the darkest times.

Warnings: Mentions of previous incident

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: I'M BACK FOR A CHAPTER UPDATE!

I'm so sorry it took so long, I wasn't planning on a break, but because of my new job I've been busy. And I've been going through some things.

This story is almost finished, but I do plan on continuing Bradley and Aurora's story after this! Thank you so much for your support, for sticking by this story, and loving it as much as I do. 💜

Shoutout to @reginleight for editing this chapter, espeically now that she is also a working gal now. 😘

As always, likes are great and all, but comments, reblogs, and feedback are highly appreciated and loved! 🤭

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Aurora still hadn’t woken up. It had been three days since the bombing and she still was deep in her coma. The doctors said that her wounds had healed properly and that she should be waking up soon, but nothing had happened since.

She was transferred to a room out of the ICU since she wasn’t in critical condition anymore. All they were waiting for was for her to wake up.

The training for the mission had been postponed, especially since Maverick wasn’t in the right state of mind to train them as well as giving Coyote, Bob, and Phoenix a few days to rest.

Speaking of the rest of the squadron, they all had dropped by at least once a day to check in on Aurora, as well as Bradley and Peyton who spent most of their days at the hospital never wanting to leave her side.

Aurora’s NCIS team unfortunately had left to go back to DC, but not before exchanging numbers with the family so they would still receive updates on her condition. Ziva left the charm bracelet with Bradley, just as Aurora wanted.

He shed a few tears when receiving it because that had meant Aurora still thought of him even in her probably final moments. It broke his heart.

Today was the first day Maverick would be going back to base to talk to the Admirals, and training would be starting back up the next day.

At least, that’s what they had thought.

“What do you mean they took you off the mission?” Penny nearly shrieked at hearing the news.

Penny and Maverick were in Aurora’s hospital room. Peyton, Amelia, and Bradley had left to go home for a bit while Carole and Goose left to bring dinner to Penny and Maverick.

“It means I’m done, Penny. Officially. There’s nothing I can do!” Maverick sighs as he sits in his chair.

“But, what about Ice-”

“There’s nothing Ice can do.”

“So, what? You’re just going to give up?”

“What else can I do, Pen?”

“You fight! If you had lost your wingman, you’d keep fighting. Just like when Goose left.”

“Pen-”

“If anything happens to them, you’d never forgive yourself. You know that.”

Maverick exhales. “I don’t know how to fight anymore Pen. They told me that I should take this time to be with Aurora. Maybe the admirals are right.”

“You and I both know that they’re not. Aurora would hate that you just gave up!”

“She’s right.”

Penny and Maverick quickly turn to the bed that Aurora laid in, which was a sight they were used to.

Except this time, her eyes were open.

“Oh, Rory!” Penny exclaims, rushing to hug her daughter. Aurora grunts from the hug, as Maverick rushes to press the call button for a nurse.

Aurora coughs a bit before Penny hands her a cup of water that was on the table next to her. After taking a chug of her water, Penny gave her another big hug.

Soon, all the emotions hit Aurora and she began to cry.

“I’m so sorry mom, I’m sorry I-”

“Shhh, sweetie, it’s okay, you’re safe now. It’s okay,” Penny assures her. Maverick stood on the other side of Aurora so he could hold her hand.

“We were so worried, Rory, but when we heard what you did, we couldn’t be more proud of what you had done,” Maverick tearfully told her as he brushed her hair out of her face. “It was stupid, but we’re just glad you’re okay.”

Aurora’s eyes bore into her dad’s as it filled with tears. “I fought, dad, just like you wanted me to.”

“I know, princess, I know.”

Aurora took a few seconds before asking him the question that hit him hard. “So why aren’t you fighting to go back?”

Maverick breath hitches. “B–Because maybe it’s time to turn in the wings, Ro. I’m getting old, and I should be spending more time with you.”

“Screw what the admirals say!”

“Rory, language,” Penny warns her daughter.

“You have to keep fighting, because if you give up, you won’t forgive yourself for what happens on that mission. We’re Mitchell’s, it’s in our blood. We keep fighting, no matter what,” Aurora affirms.

Penny chuckles before kissing her daughter’s forehead. Maverick smiles, softly.

“I don’t even know what to do.”

“You’ll find a way, you always do,” Aurora smiles before she squeezes her dad’s hand. “Most likely, something illegal, but you’ll find a way.”

“Aurora Benjamin-Mitchell, don’t encourage your father!” Penny exclaims.

“Oh, please! I bet you he’s already thinking about it! It’s not like I told him to bomb the base or steal a plane!”

“Bomb jokes, really? This soon?” Penny gives her a worried look.

“Then you don’t want to hear any of the jokes Tony and I make when we’re on the field. We got head slaps from Gibbs so many times. I can feel one right now, it’s like Gibbs can tell I made a stupid joke,” Aurora winces, putting her hand on the back of her head as if Gibbs had just head slapped her. Penny rolls her eyes, as Maverick chuckles.

Soon a nurse comes by to take Aurora’s vitals, while Penny and Maverick leave so Aurora can have a bit of space. Penny rushes out to give Sarah a phone call, as Maverick calls Gibbs and the team about her being awake.

A few seconds after the call ended, Peyton, Amelia, and Bradley burst through the double swing doors that were used to enter the wing Aurora was staying at. Bradley was clutching a bouquet of flowers Maverick knew was meant for Aurora, as he liked to replace the flowers every day so Aurora would “wake up with a fresh bouquet” according to him.

Today, the flowers he had in his hand were pink carnations and white roses, symbolizing love and appreciation.

“S-she’s awake? The receptionist, they s-said, h-hold on, give me a second to breathe, I haven’t ran in s-so long,” Peyton bends over panting from running.

“Dude, we just ran from the front desk, which was not even that far,” Amelia gave him a deadpan look. Peyton ignores her and just keeps puffing out air.

“She’s awake?” Bradley looked hopeful at Maverick. Maverick smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, but right now she’s getting checked up on by the nurse, so we’ll wait until she’s done with the assessment. Wait, where’s Goose and Carole?”

“Here!” Goose bursts in dramatically through the double swing doors, holding a bag of takeout in his hands and almost hitting a nurse from the force of it, with Carole shaking her head behind him.

“Goose, careful!” Carole scolds him.

“It’s fine honey, if someone gets hurt, it’s all good because we’re already at a hospital!”

Carole sighs before turning to Maverick.

“We heard what happened. They pulled you out of the mission?”

“Wait, what?!” The trio of children exclaim at the news.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to figure it out,” Maverick reassures them.

The nurse soon walks out of Aurora’s room, saying that they were able to all visit her now. Everyone piled in, with Amelia and Peyton leading the group in, and were the first to hug Aurora.

Amelia and Peyton start tearing up, while Aurora holds them tightly.

To occupy himself, Bradley put the flowers he had in his hand in an empty vase that sat next to Aurora’s hospital bed side, as he already took the older flowers and left them at their house.

The dining table was filled with an older bouquet of flowers that Bradley had gotten for Aurora every day. Peyton complained when he started doing it because he kept sneezing from the amount of flowers, but he stopped complaining after day two.

Carole and Goose were the next ones to hug Aurora next, Carole telling her how worried she was, while Goose kept trying to get Carole to stop nagging her. Aurora soon laid eyes on Bradley, and she started tearing up.

Bradley took that as a sign to rush to his best friend’s side and hug her tightly.

“I’m sorry, B. I’m so sorry,” Aurora whispered.

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe now,” he shushes her, as he combs his hands through her hair. She sniffles and they separate from the hug.

“You gave us quite a big scare there little star,” Goose sniffles as he and Carole come to Aurora’s side.

“Sorry, Uncle Goose,” Aurora cringes, knowing she had worried her family and friends.

“We’re just glad you’re alright,” Carole assures her, brushing some of Aurora’s hair back in a motherly gesture.

“Your team had to leave, but I gave them a call and they’re all happy that you’re doing okay and awake,” Maverick told her.

“And,” Amelia spoke up. “They told us about the case.”

Aurora looks at her confused. “What case?”

“You know…the case about…your scars,” Peyton hesitantly tells her. Aurora pales at that and almost starts going into a panic attack if Bradley didn’t rush to hold her hand.

“Hey, hey, you’re alright. No one’s going to hurt you now,” he assures her. Aurora hesitantly looks up into Bradley’s eyes, her eyes filled with tears.

“You all know?”

“We all know now.”

Aurora’s lips quiver thinking back to that case, where she barely had escaped with her life if it wasn’t for her team finding her and saving her.

Amelia and Peyton rushed to Aurora’s side, not only to comfort their sister, but to let her know that they were always by her side. Aurora cries and keeps whispering ‘I’m sorry’ to them, to which they kept telling her it wasn’t her fault.

Aurora was awake, and physically okay. The demons of her past haunt her on her darkest days, but with her family by her side, she was going to be okay. Because they were her light in the dark of everything, her flashlight when she’s lost.

—

It was about two days since Aurora woke up and right now, she was sitting alone in her hospital room. She was to be discharged soon, and she was grateful for it.

The doctor told her that she just needed a few days of bed rest, and that she should be okay, after they took a few vitals and scans of her. She had a few visitors after she woke up, one of them being Lucille.

“I can’t believe you almost got blown to pieces!” Lucille first said when she stepped into Aurora’s room before launching into a hug.

“Luci, I can’t breathe. Too tight,” was all Aurora could breath out when Lucille latched onto her.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry,” Lucille lets her go before sitting next to her.

“Besides, it’s not like I could have stood there and done nothing. I had to save the hostages,” Aurora adds.

“And yet, you almost got blown up in the process. I know your job is dangerous, and you probably had gone through worse, but I really thought I lost you RoRo,” Lucille leans on Aurora’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry I scared you, Luci. I promise, you’re not losing me anytime soon.”

“Good, because you owe me donuts for what you put me through.”

Aurora chuckles, before also leaning on Lucille. “Deal.”

And when she didn’t have any visitors, she was able to video call Gibbs and the team.

“We’re so glad you’re doing alright!” Abby exclaims as she smiles at Aurora.

The team had video called her from the NCIS HQ bullpen, and Aurora stares wistfully at the background, missing her old office space.

“Did you hear about the award ceremony that’s going to be happening in a few months?” McGee asks Aurora. Aurora looks at him confused.

“Award ceremony?”

“Director Vance is awarding you the Navy Distinguished Civilian Service Award for your service at NCIS as well as the actions during the bombing case.”

Aurora stares at them. “What?”

“You saved a lot of Navy dependents, plus your work at NCIS. Director wanted to-”

“But I couldn’t save Adam Lewis,” Aurora interrupts. She couldn’t save him, she didn’t believe she should earn an award.

“Artemis, there’s nothing you could have done. He entered that coffee shop knowing his end game was to kill himself,” Ziva assures her.

“I still could have done something.” Aurora whispers, as a tear falls down her cheek.

“Rule #11.” Gibbs reminds her.

“Gibbs,” Aurora pleads.

“Artemis.”

Aurora bites the inside of her cheek before answering him, “‘When the job is done, walk away.’”

“We’re all glad you’re doing alright kiddo, but you need to walk away from the case. It’s done, it’s closed. You need to focus on yourself now.”

Aurora sighs, before nodding about what he said. Abby and Ziva soon start gossiping about what she had missed, with McGee and Tony joining in as Gibbs leaves them to chat.

She had another visitor that she was expecting, which was Jake Seresin.

“I was so worried. You scared us all half to death,” Jake ruffled her hair, and sat down next to her. Aurora had full mobility of everything, so she sat upright in her hospital bed.

“It wasn’t like that was my intention. I had to do my job.”

“Well, your job sucks.”

“My job also happened to save your life, remember?”

“Like you’ll ever let me forget.”

A lull hits in their conversation before Aurora speaks up.

“Have you talked to Peyton?”

Jake shakes his head. “Not really. I think he’s a bit mad at me for knowing about what happened to you and your PTSD before even he did.”

“He’ll get over it. I’m talking about you and him.

“There is no us, Rory. he’s made that very clear.”

“No, what he’s made clear is that he doesn’t want to go through heartbreak again if you’re just going to leave him how you always leave your wingman, hanging,” Aurora insists.

“Ro-”

“Jake, I nearly died. Life is too precious to waste, if you love him, what’s holding you back?”

“I-I don’t want to hurt him.”

“You’re hurting him now by not saying anything. What happens when you both go on the mission? What happens if you don't come back? You really want the last words you ever said to him to be something in passing?”

Jake looked at Aurora. This mission was already something he was nervous for, and now that Maverick was taken off as instructor, the parameters of the mission, although possible, probably would not work if they didn’t stick to the ones Maverick had set for them. They needed Maverick, whether the Admirals liked it or not.

“Just tell him, Jake. It would do you both a lot of good. And maybe he’d stop complaining so much about you,” Aurora snickers.

“We’ll see Ro,” was all Jake could promise her. “Maybe I’ll talk to him after the mission, or maybe even when they tell us who’s flying the mission. I guess we’ll just have to see.”

“When do they decide who’s flying the mission?”

“In 2 days, the day before we leave.”

It was already the next day, which means they will be deciding who flies the mission tomorrow, making Aurora feel even antsier.

From what Maverick had told her, he was going to try and win back his place at Top Gun today, but what was the plan? She had no idea.

Soon she heard running in the hallway and they stopped at her doorway, it was Peyton and Amelia.

“Dad stole an F-18!” Peyton exclaims as he catches his breath.

“HE DID WHAT?!”

“You should have seen him, Ro! He flew through the course like it was a breeze! It was so awesome!”

“Wait, can you go back to the part where he stole an F-18?!”

“Well, not stole, per-se. More like borrowed to prove to the admirals that they couldn’t just kick him off the mission.”

“And?”

“And now he's the team leader!” Amelia exclaims as she sat next to Aurora in the hospital bed.

Aurora’s jaw dropped.”What?!”

Peyton smirks. “My reaction too.”

“I was joking about him stealing an aircraft, but I didn’t know he’d actually do it,” Aurora shook her head, chuckling. Then she realizes her parents were nowhere to be seen.

“So wait, where’s dad now?”

“With mom. They wanted some ‘alone’ time together, as if we don’t know what that means,” Amelia tells her, making air quotes on the words alone.

Peyton and Aurora grimace at the thought of what Amelia was insinuating. But soon Aurora smiles.

“Mom and dad are together…again.”

“We all knew it was going to happen eventually,” Amelia smirks.

“Yeah, but now, it’s real. Like something about right now feels like it’s going to be “it” this time, you know?”

Peyton nods. “Yeah, I’m glad they finally came to their senses.”

“Which means, since dad or mom isn’t here, we are in charge of getting you home.”

Aurora pales. “Uh, I don’t know if I like that.”

“Oh c’mon, we’ll get some tacos on the way home and Amelia can sleepover!” Peyton assures her.

“Okay, that does sound good.”

“And, we can even let Amelia drive!”

“Yeah!” “No!”

Amelia looked sad as her sister shot down the idea.

“But, I need practice,” Amelia whines.

“Ami, when you get your permit, and when I’m not coming from the hospital, you can drive. But for now, we’re going to have to suffer through Pey’s driving.”

“What’s wrong with my driving?!”

“Let’s just say, I’m so glad you didn’t become a pilot with your driving skills, you would be a danger in the skies.”

Peyton scoffs before looking to Amelia for support, but she nods along at Aurora’s statement.

He rolls his eyes before he goes to sign the papers releasing Aurora while Amelia helped her sister get her things together as there were quite a few things people had sent and brought Aurora while she was in the hospital.

Aurora pauses packing staring at today’s bouquet of flowers, provided by Bradley of course. Today they were pink and red roses. She smiled as she touched the delicate petals.

Pink and red, colors that symbolized both Aurora and Bradley, Aurora being pink, and Bradley being red, which also suited him since they were also his helmet colors. She also knew it symbolized love and affection.

“Bradley got so many bouquets of flowers, they’re all waiting for you at home. He didn’t throw any out and he would bring a fresh one every day he came to visit. All meticulously picked out by him,” Amelia interrupts her thoughts as Aurora looks over to her sister who was smiling at her.

“He was really worried about you, Rory.” Amelia continues. “I mean, we all were, but Bradley was distraught. Your boss had to give him a talking to. I don’t think I ever saw Bradley that terrified and scared, even when Auntie Carole got cancer. He truly loves you.”

“I know,” Aurora gives her a small smile before turning back to the bouquet of flowers.

“So, what’s holding you back now? I mean, you should tell him. I overheard what you and Jake were talking about. It seems like it’s time for you to take your own advice. Before it’s too late.”

Aurora stares out the window. “You’re right, Ames.”

Her being in a coma definitely changed everything for her. It made her think about what she could have lost if something did happen to her. She didn’t want to live her life full of regrets anymore. She was ready to leave her past behind.

She was ready to move on and tell Bradley everything.

- - -

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—

Disclaimer: This story is fictitious. All works are written by me and only posted here. Please do not copy, repost, or plagiarize on any other platform without my permission!

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entertainmentgirl80 · 6 months

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Halloween First Time 🎃

Warning: Silly Stuff, Some Time Jump, And Mostly Just Fluff.

Jade: "Hey Daddy?"

Jake: "Yeah, honey?"

Jade: "Who you gonna be for Halloween?"

Jake: "Well babygirl, I'm gonna be Ken, and your mama is gonna be -"

You: "Herself, but I gonna wear my pumpkin shirt on with my headband on." You smiled at your husband.

Jake: "All right, then, so you ready to go trick or treat this evening, sweetheart?"

Jade: "Yes, Daddy, I ready." She give you and him those sweet but hazel eyes and the cuteness towards y'all.

And so the three of y'all, went to the Fall Festival because they hosting were Penny's place at where the rest of the dagger squad at with their significant other's and their kids, and y'all enjoying yourself especially your little family. Jake was cuddling you and being little PDA, while Jade is playing with the kids while she is having fun, but the most part: there is no place. Rather, be here with the people that you love.

A/N: It's Little Burb Story That I'm Did Just For Little Spooky Season, Hope Everyone Be Safe Out There And Also Happy Halloween. 🎃🧡🖤😌

#top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x you #jake seresin blurb #tgm fanfiction #tgm fic #tgm oc #top gun maverick fanfic #halloween #happy halloweeeeeeen #halloween fanfic

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roosterbruiser · 1 year

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𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐞 ☾☽ 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐈𝐈𝐈.𝐈𝐈

☾☽ 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 "𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫" 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰 𝐱 𝐅𝐚𝐲𝐞 "𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫" 𝐋𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫

☾☽ 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: It’s been almost three years since the accident that took half of her, and Faye “Clover” Ledger seems fine, really. She loves her old house, she has a perpetually expanding vinyl collection, she’s got a job she likes on base, and she is only a short drive from the beach. She’s grounded--literally. Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw feels like he’s been homesick his entire life. He’s always on the move; jumping from one squadron to another, living one mission to the next. Somewhere in between losing both his parents and carving a successful career as a Naval aviator, he’s never found himself a home. When a call to serve on a high-priority mission with an elite squadron brings Rooster back to Miramar, he finds that home. Except it’s not a house that he finds--it’s the former backseater that observes and records the mission for the Official Navy Record.

☾☽ 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

☾☽ 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

☾☽ 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞.𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐅𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟏𝟑𝐭𝐡-𝟏𝟒𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏

Bob passes me my bouquet--a beautiful amaranth, peach, plum, and cadmium colored thing littered with poppies and marigolds and violets and dahlias.

I have to kiss Phoenix’s cheek again, sighing into her pretty, blow dried hair. She smells like that good shampoo, that good lotion.

“Who knew you had such a knack for floral arrangement,” I whisper to her, “everything’s perfect. Thank you.”

My throat is swelling with emotion all over again when she presses a sweet kiss to my cheek, too. She suddenly feels like Maggie, smells like her--holding me close with her body warm and sinewy beneath my grip.

Bob’s grinning when Phoenix and I pull away from each other, holding his own bouquet that mirrors mine. He comes close to me, that scent of baby powder and soap overwhelming me. I have to hold a hand on his shoulder to steady myself--he covers my fingers with his own and I wonder if he is surprised that my fingers are warm.

“Ready when you are,” he grins.

He kisses my forehead. I think I have been kissed today more than I have ever been kissed in my life. It’s making me warm all over.

“You’re getting married,” Phoenix grins, bumping her hip into mine.

Bob spins on his heel to look at the rest of the group, who are standing in a small bunch of hair gel and cologne and chapstick.

“Okay, so the order goes: Hangman, Maverick, then Phoenix, then me, then--well, duh,” Bob laughs, patting my shoulder, “then Faye. And, Hangman, you’re the flower girl since you’re going first. So, Fanboy should be waiting for his cue to start the record. Just point when I tell you--whenever you’re ready. Well, whenever she’s ready.”

Now everyone is looking at me--waiting. I stand before them, feeling as beautiful as my sister always was, holding my bouquet of sprawling, dewy flowers in warm palms. The flowers rest very peacefully at the base of my belly.

“I’m ready,” I whisper, nodding.

So everybody moves to get into place, pretending like everyone outside isn’t trying to look at us from their seats, look at us through the windows with their hand shading their squinted eyes. I’m pretending like I can’t see Bradley at the end of the aisle, in our backyard, standing beneath the February sun.

And it’s so strange that I am doing this without my sister--without my parents. And it hits me when I am standing alone at the end of the line, in the middle of my lovely kitchen, clutching my bouquet.

“Let’s do this,” Phoenix says, throwing a grin over her shoulder, her eyes gleaming.

I smile weakly at her, my heart suddenly hammering.

Oh, I wish Maggie was here. I wish she was more than a sparrow perched in a tree right now. I wish she was tugging me down the aisle, all pink cheeks and teary eyes. I wish she would’ve been here for all of it--I wish she would be here for everything that is to come as soon as I step through this backdoor and down the aisle into the next part of my life.

At Hangman’s signal, Fanboy lowers the needle on the record player from his spot kneeling beside it. Hangman throws a final glance over his shoulder, his green eyes swimming, holding the wicker basket of flower petals against his hip.

Crimson and Clover starts flooding through the backyard among the flickering candles and the glowing string lights. There’s that sound of movement as everyone stands from their seats--rustling and chattering, concealed squeals.

This is it. I am getting married. I am going to get married right now.

And that’s when Cyclone falls in step beside me, a tall and broad thing dressed in a button down and khaki-colored pants. It’s the most casual I’ve ever seen him dress--and even then, his shirt is starched, his pants pressed. I had not even realized that he was still here in the kitchen, hadn’t realized that he hadn’t taken his seat again.

“Cyclone,” I whisper and my voice is very thin, “aren’t you supposed to be taking your seat now?”

It’s then that the backdoor swings open--the knob clutched in Payback’s hand as he grins inside the house. Jake walks out and into the sun, a grin spread across his face as he dips his finger into the basket and carefully begins to pepper them down the bricks.

Below the sound of laughter, below the sound of Tommy James, is the erratic beat of my heart as it hammers against my ribs.

“Knew that’d be a crowd pleaser,” Bob chuckles, shaking his head softly.

Cyclone’s not smiling down at me, but his face is kind, soft.

“Clover,” he greets gently, “you look beautiful.”

I’m too flushed to answer, really--so I just smile at him, nod.

He needs to get to his seat now. But he doesn’t move. He just looks down at me, his blue eyes unclouded and his eyebrows furrowed. His hands are resting on his hips, his mouth frowning lightly.

“Is your father here?”

It feels like a blow again, like I’m reeling all over again. It’s the first time today anybody has mentioned the absence of my parents, of any of my family members. I think people have carefully danced around it, not wanting to be the one that brings it up, not wanting to make light of it.

It makes my teeth set as I blink up at him, a certain numbness crawling across my belly, just below where my bouquet rests.

“Showtime,” Maverick mumbles quietly just before Payback opens the backdoor again.

Just like the first time, the sounds of outside swell and pulse into the kitchen, no longer muffled by the glass door. It is all that sweet sound of people who love each other--cooing, sniffling, laughing, crying, breathing, music.

Maverick steps outside the door, a grin set across his features as the sun sweeps across him. The backdoor falls shut again--we all shuffle forward, Phoenix next in line. She holds her bouquet primly at her hips, sucking in a few deep breaths.

“You’ve got this,” Bob quietly tells her, “I’m right behind you.”

My heart is in my throat.

“No,” I manage to say to Cyclone finally.

That’s the most I can say--no. Not no, my father isn’t here because he told me he couldn’t fly to California and he didn’t have the time to drive here. No, neither of my parents are here because they’re not really parents anymore. Instead of coming here, instead of watching me get married, they sent me a box of home videos--things they cannot watch anymore. Sent all their grief in a cardboard box from the attic, postmarked to me; the ultimate painful reminder.

Dimly, I think about that small piece of pink stationary that was laid flat against all the home videos nestled snugly in the box. I knew it was my mother’s handwriting right away, knew it was her who had written the note after my father had packed all the tapes under her guidance. It was a short note, one as unassuming and ineffective as a faux treasure map from a cereal box.

Faye,

We just can’t. Try to understand.

-Mom & Dad

That was all they’d written to me--a sprawl of looping cursive on my mother’s favorite cardstock, in a package that they had packed in under an hour, all the VHS tapes still dusty and strewn with cobwebs. They sent it just last week, arriving at my doorstep the night before last--the videos from the first twenty-something years of mine and my sister’s life in a flimsy box.

“Your seat,” I dryly whisper to Cyclone, trying very hard to evade the heat of his gaze.

The door swings open again--the noise swells, swallows us. Bob pats Phoenix’s shoulder in that sweet Bob way --you’ve got this, I’m here, you’re fine. And then she walks out the door with her prettiest smile holding all her features, her dress glimmering.

The door closes.

“What are you at?” Bob whispers over his shoulder, his tone teasing, his eyes glittering.

But my heart is in my throat.

Ten. I am at a ten right now and I am completely sober.

“Cool as a cucumber, remember?” I whisper, forcing my voice to sound bigger than it really is.

His glasses are falling down his nose, those silly pretty wire frames, his lenses impeccably clean thanks to that tiny piece of velvet that is religiously attached to him. And before he can move to push them up, his eyes searching mine, I push them back up his nose very gently.

Now his throat is soft, flushed.

“Boy, do I love you,” I tell him gently, “you’re up, Floyd.”

He’s smiling, his eyes watery. He still has a lip-shaped stain on his cheek where I kissed him earlier--I quickly thumb it away, carefully hold his shoulder again.

He doesn’t respond--can’t.

Payback opens the door once more and Bob turns to face the aisle, sniffling hard, ignoring the tears peppering the corners of his eyes. Even from behind, his hair freshly trimmed and his shirt unwrinkled and his shoulders straight--I just love him. He just looks like my friend every which way. I could pick him out of a crowd even with his back turned.

Bob walks out, throwing a final, fleeting glance over his shoulder as he crosses outside. He’s glowing from the inside out, pulsing with love.

There’s a moment of silence as I gaze up at Cyclone and he gazes down at me.

Is he going to stand in the kitchen during the ceremony?

But I am glad to not be alone, here in the kitchen by myself. I am glad that we are alone together, even if his gaze is forcing heat to bloom in my cheeks, even if my fingers are going numb around the stiff stems of the flowers in my bouquet.

“Sir,” I start softly, meeting his eyes finally.

But then I stop because he’s looking down at me with such an impassioned expression that I don’t think I can move at all. I don’t think I can even breathe right now--don’t think my feet can even teeter me forwards.

His face is the kindest it’s ever been and he is not even smiling. It’s the face that I saw when he picked me up from the rehabilitation center, his far freshly vacuumed and smelling sharply of pine trees and oiled leather. It’s his brow unfurrowed, his eyes wide and calm, his mouth slacked. His face just looks open--welcoming, warm.

He looks more like a father to me right now than my father has since before October 28th, 2016.

He moves to stand closer to me, moving his body between me and the door. Silently, he reaches up and towards me. Very carefully, he presses his finger under my eye and gently swipes it--then retracts and holds his finger between us. There, on the tip of it, is an eyelash, one that must’ve been under my eye.

It’s the movement that universally means make a wish!

The laughter that springs out of me is sudden, just like last night when Bob made a joke that I know Maggie would have loved.

He laughs, too, shaking his head softly.

Blood is starting to rush back into the tips of my fingers.

“Force of habit,” Cyclone chuckles softly, flicking the eyelash away, “Elizabeth would crucify me if I didn’t let her make a wish.”

I wonder if my father says my name like he says his daughter’s name--bringing me up in passing easily, telling everybody about my insistences and quirks. But it has been a very long time since I have been sewn into the fabric of my father’s life--he probably does not say my name at all, a seam ripper clutched in his fist.

My face is flushed now, flushed from being so close to Cyclone and his expensive cologne, flushed from everything that’s happened, flushed that I am just about to walk down the aisle.

And then he hooks his arm through mine and steps so we are shoulder-to-shoulder. His back is straight and his jaw is squared and he’s preparing himself. For a moment, I’m confused, trying to muster the courage to tell him to find his seat.

But then oh--oh, I get it.

It washes over me like a spring shower, all cool and wet, the scent of wet sand permeating the fresh air all around us.

He is going to walk me down the aisle, straight from this kitchen that he insisted I renovate, all the way through my backyard and to Bradley Bradshaw.

He is holding my arm and pulling me into him, his grip secure and solid. He’s holding me like my father used to hold me. It is suddenly the warmest and safest I have felt in a long time. I had forgotten how it felt to be held by a father.

I can’t say anything because I am so very near tears, so near sobbing.

His shirtsleeve is clutched beneath my fingers and he brings his other hand up to cover mine--his skin is warm. He squeezes my hand, nodding at the door as we shuffle forward in preparation.

“Don’t forget to smile,” he says quietly, voice deep and soft, “I’ll take care of the rest.”

I belive him, too--I believe him thoroughly and completely.

Payback pulls the door open again.

This is it.

“Please don’t let me fall,” I whisper suddenly, quietly.

He doesn’t laugh at me--just squeezes my hand again as we step forward, only inches away from the threshold of the door, only inches away from the aisle.

“I’ve got you.”

The nippy February air envelopes us with amble fullness as my heels press against the flower-dusted bricks. Everybody is standing, flanking the aisle, their cheeks cherry-colored and their gazes loving and tearful. Everyone’s grinning, everyone’s laughing, everyone’s crying. And everybody has their disposable camera up and the flashing and clicking is mingling with the sounds of the calling sparrows, the turning record, the beating of my heart. It is so full of love and full of life that I think we are all going to burst, combust, pop into the air in a flurry of velvet and silk confetti.

The sun is set in an endless blue sky, the kind of sky that took my sister. But it is beautiful--the kind of blue that makes the breath stall in my lungs. It is like pressing the petal of a bluebell against the fluttering eyelashes of a lover; sweet and all-consuming.

Cyclone is holding me tight, smiling that stoic smile of his as he matches my pace, keeping his head held proud and high. He is acting like I am really, truly his daughter--keeping me close to him.

There are flowers everywhere, our backyard a sea of color and flickering candles and dim-glowing bulbs. The sunlight is pouring over us like a bucket of yellow paint, covering us like a blanket and keeping us warm.

Crimson and clover / Over and over / Crimson and clover / Over and over

It rushes back to me like a cold-front; the first time Rooster played me this song at The Hard Deck. How sly he’d been, walking into the bar, studying my unassuming figure as I transcribed. When I’d seen him standing there, my parents lullaby to my sister and I flooding the empty air around us, he had very nearly stolen the beating heart out of my chest. Leaning against that blinking jukebox, his hands in the pockets of his partially-unzipped flight suit, his mouth just barely smiling as his eyes glittered beneath the lights there.

Even then, I loved him. Before I even knew about the string that connected us, before I even knew anything at all. But I loved him so very much--so very easily. It was just something that was.

And now here he is.

He is standing there, waiting for me beneath the petals of a thousand flowers, and his private sun is shining on all of us right here, right now. And he looks achingly the same now as he did when I first saw him--except that his beauty has been amplified with his age, stretching its fingers across the skin beside his eyes and the lines beside his mouth. He is still so tall and broad, standing beside Jake and Maverick and the officiant, and his skin is shining like honey in the blue of the day. His hair is soft and curly, his mustache trimmed, his scars glowing white. And he is grinning, grinning so hard and so wide that it looks like his face might split right open. And God, does he look beautiful.

We are stepping over the flower petals Penny so carefully dissected, the ones Jake peppered along the aisle on his way down. They’re soft under our feet. Cyclone squeezes my fingers again, nodding at his wife and daughters and his empty seat beside them.

Rooster’s big, brown eyes find mine and everything else just slinks off my chest and fades blissfully away, billowing in the breeze. It is like every step I have ever taken has just been bringing me closer and closer to him here and now. The world is melting around us, the same way it did at The Hard Deck, the same way it always does when we see each other.

He’s wearing his father’s watch, a thick vintage thing on his wrist. And I am wearing his mother’s pearl brooch, a dainty golden thing between my breasts. We are two parentless people right now on a level-playing field, tethering ourselves together, tying our hands to the other’s.

And it’s overwhelming really, the love that is suddenly pouring out of me. It’s not even that I’m sad --I’m fucking overjoyed-- when I start to cry. There are tears racing down my cheeks and my throat is clogging, but my smile is of the mega-watt variety. Cyclone squeezes me and I’m laughing, too, wrinkling my nose when Rooster starts to cry, too.

My heart is pulsing with adoration--so intense and so deep that it’s turning my chest pink.

I love him, I love him, I love him, I love him.

Finally, when we reach the end of the aisle, when I’m close enough to touch Rooster again, I take a deep breath and my chest is quivering. Rooster’s palming tears from his cheeks, nodding at Maverick whenever he pats his back gently. I want to touch his cheeks, want to press his tears into my skin.

“And who gives this woman?”

Cyclone glances at me, the softest of smiles residing on his lips.

“I do,” he says gently, kindly.

There’s that soft spot.

And then he leans forward and very gently presses a stiff-lipped kiss to my temple. He has never kissed me before, never put his face so near mine. His lips are warm and his face is even warmer, his scruff tickling my hair.

Bob leans forward, sniffling his tears slyly, and takes my bouquet. And he very gently smoothes my veil over my back, his touch that same non-presumptuous and adored touch that it always has been. He falls back into place and Phoenix nudges him with her shoulder, blinking her own tears back.

Then Cyclone’s transferring my grip to Rooster’s--letting him grasp my hand and pull me to the brick before him. Rooster reaches out with both hands, clutching my dress and lifting so it does not get caught under my heels.

And it’s just right--it’s all just so very right.

He smells like pepper and cologne, looks like he’s about to burst at the seams with love as he bobs on the balls of his feet and grips my hands, pulling me closer to him. Gingerly, he brings his hand to my face and wipes some tears from under my eyes--his calloused skin against mine sends a bushel of warmth down my belly and into my toes.

He holds my cheek and I lean into his palm and distantly, I can hear the cooing and the cameras winding up again, but it’s just us here. It is just me and him and his hand and my cheek. Before he lets his hand fall back to mine, he very softly ghosts it over a bunch of baby’s breath in my flower crown, its petals quivering beneath his gentle touch.

There’s that gargantuan amount of time that passed without us seeing each other, but what was really only a little over four hours. But it is so relieving, so absolutely toe-curling and sweet to be so very near him again.

Kathleen McArthur by Tommy James is playing now. This is the record my father had given me after Maggie died. This is her record, my record. Now this is our record--mine and hers and Bradley’s. Bradley and I will spin this record for our children every February 13th, telling them what was happening during every song.

“Please be seated,” the officiant says warmly, gesturing to the audience.

But then Rooster and I are just looking at each other, our invisible string so taut that I feel that I need to be very nearly inside of him, sitting in his chest.

He’s glowing under the light of the sun, his scars white and his skin tan, cheeks flushed. There is a soft grin beneath his mustache, the one I trimmed hours ago, and he is holding me so tight that it very nearly hurts. Hurts too good to let go, though.

“Hi,” he mouths, “you look perfect.”

“Hi yourself,” I mouth back, “so do you.”

Holding his hands feels like holding the first blanket I was ever wrapped in, hand stitched and perfumed with lavender-scented baby lotion. It feels like these hands holding mine are the first hands to ever bring me comfort, the first hands to ever really hold mine too. His thumbs move in tandem to stroke the skin of my hands, thumbing the engagement ring that he loves so much, on the finger he loves so much.

“I love you,” he mouths, “say it back.”

My heart is swelling, throbbing.

“I love you,” I mouth, “tramp.”

“Welcome, all. We are gathered here today to join Faye Leona Ledger and Bradley Peter Bradshaw in holy matrimony and all that good stuff.”

We get married right there in our spots on the flower-dusted brick, in the backyard we broke our backs for, under the California sun we fell in love under.

He is holding my hands so tightly, his lips still wet and warm and his eyes still teary from reciting his vows to me. I am sniffling and we’re both grinning and he’s thumbing the second ring on my ring finger now.

“By the power vested in me by the great state of California, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant joyously announces, “you may now kiss the bride.”

And we are all laughing and smiling, everybody clapping already, pictures being endlessly captured. My hair is billowing in the wind, my dress flowing like feathers against my skin.

Rooster wastes less than a moment as he wraps his arms around me, his warmth enveloping me as his hands settle on the bare skin of my back. He dips me, of course he dips me, and my veil is brushing the ground and I have to hold my flower crown in place with one hand. And God, I am laughing so hard and tears are still leaking from my eyes and I can’t help the joy that is just oozing out of me, coating everything in a glaze of sugar.

“Gimme some sugar,” he croons in a whisper, his voice muted against the cheers erupting from our small bunch of guests, “little lady.”

Then we have it; our first kiss as husband and wife. Husband and wife.

He’s laughing and I’m laughing and we’re trying to kiss each other, but we can’t stop ourselves from grinning, can’t stop ourselves from pulling each other closer. It’s a mess, really, of my painted top lip between his bottom one and there’s teeth and breath. It is the loveliest kiss we have ever shared.

I kiss him again, keep kissing him, wrap my arms around his neck and let him keep me suspended in there in the air, his knee supporting the brunt of my weight.

I can feel it pulsing from him: I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.

He pulls me up and against him and it feels so correct--so distinctly correct. He holds my hips, peppering my face with kisses, his mustache tickling the skin on my cheeks and nose and I don’t even care that everybody is watching us. It feels good to be loved by him so thoroughly, even in front of all these people.

“Y’ready, baby?” he grins at me, cupping my cheeks.

“Born ready, Bradshaw.”

So we face all the people in our backyard, all the sweet and familiar faces that are flushed and grinning. It is very loud now, everybody clapping and hollering, everybody cheering. From their spot in the first row, Coyote, Payback, and Fanboy are howling as they pump their fists in the air.

Bob steps close for a moment, pressing my bouquet back into my hands, pressing a quick, wet kiss to my cheek.

“Love you so much,” he croaks swiftly before he falls back to Phoenix, who opens her arms up to him.

Crystal Blue Persuasion is booming through the speakers of the record player, a staticy, perfect song. Yes, we will tell our children , this is the song that played when mom and dad first got married.

We are gripping each other, one of my hands wrapped around his as the other grips my bouquet. My cheeks are pink. I am the happiest I have ever been I think, so happy, looking out at all these people and at this perfect backyard and holding hands with my husband.

We are just about to take our first step back down the aisle, whistles and laughter and music bursting through the winter air, when I see it. It flitters through the air, suspended before me as if attached to some sort of invisible string. And then it gracefully lands on a marigold in my bouquet, the brightest, biggest one. It is a feather--a brown and gray spotted thing, no longer than my pinky finger.

It is the feather of a sparrow.

My heart squeezes.

I know it is her--can suddenly feel her presence as if she is standing behind me, teasing Bob as she dabs under his eyes with a handkerchief, slyly choking back her own sobs. It’s like she’s standing on this brick, just behind me, clapping and blushing.

It’s like she’s here with me now, like she always is when I need her. My big sister. My twin. The first person I ever knew. The first person I ever loved. Maggie.

“We’re married,” Rooster grins as we start walking down the aisle again, reaching around to hold the train of my dress so it does not snag on my bricks, “I just married you.”

“I just married you,” I grin, moving to my tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

Joy is infecting me like a fever, coursing through my veins, settling deep into my bones. I feel like there should be an icy rag pressed against my forehead, a thermometer under my tongue.

And just before we are about to walk into the kitchen again, he halts. And he grins at me, mischievous and glowing, more beautiful than he has ever been before. Here, in this light, in his button up and with his mustache over his lips--he looks like his father. Golden, joyful.

“I love you,” he tells me before he leans down and presses his lips to my parted ones.

And before I can even utter a response, he has looped his arm around my knees and encouraged them to buckle so I crash against him at once, grinning and gasping. He pulls me up against his chest, holding all of me, every single piece of me.

All over again, cheers are erupting from behind us. We are the most popular people on Mulberry Street right now and it’s probably not even close.

“Can’t let my bride walk over the threshold,” he grins, pressing his nose against mine.

“Tradition is tradition,” I grin back.

It feels good--safe--to be suspended in the air within his arms. I only ever want him to hold me like this, so close, so securely. I think that he could hold me like this every single day for the rest of our lives and I would let him.

Holding me, pressing his lips against my forehead sweetly, he carries me over the threshold of the home that we already share and into the dimly-lit kitchen.

It is quieter in here--just barely. For a moment, I can hear my pulse in my ears, that erratic thumping and throbbing. And Rooster is still peppering kisses all over my face, still holding me tightly in his arms. My bouquet is resting on his shoulder, my arm wrapped around his neck.

“Honey,” he grins against my skin, “d’you know what this means?”

I shake my head, smiling.

He stops kissing me, rests his forehead against mine, his thumb very softly stroking the curve of my spine through my dress.

“I’m not the only Bradshaw anymore,” he whispers.

And his voice cracks. He is delighted--over the moon, gleeful, joyful. But his voice cracks and his eyes are glassy, even if he’s grinning. Because he’s right: I am a Bradshaw now, too. He is not alone anymore--not at all, not in any capacity.

“It’s an honor and a privilege,” I whisper back, ghosting my lips over his.

He bites his lip, stifling a grin.

He knows what I want him to say.

“Faye B radshaw,” he whispers excitedly, “Mrs. Faye Bradshaw.”

“Oh, you really know how to make a little lady swoon,” I tease.

That’s precisely when Bob and Phoenix come dancing through the doorway, cat-calling and wolf-whistling, both of their eyes slightly bloodshot and their voices weepy.

“Our best friends just got married,” Phoenix says to Bob and she’s grinning as Rooster carefully sets me on the kitchen tile, smoothing his hand over my bare back, “and it was s-so beautiful.”

She sniffles hard, her left eye twitching. Bob nudges her and she sniffles again. She’s trying very hard to blink away her tears, trying very hard to keep from crying again.

“Don’t,” Bob says, his voice hitched, his bouquet still loosely gripped in his right hand, “if you cry again, then Faye’ll cry, then I’ll cry and then who’s going to g-get the party started?”

Hangman and Maverick come rolling through the door, too, both of them grinning.

I’m biting my lip hard, willing Phoenix to pull herself together, carefully watching the fat tears gathering in her waterline.

“Should I tell the boys to start moving things around for the reception?” Hangman asks, gesturing to the door.

But then he notices the lot of us--all our eyes watery, our bouquets sitting limply against our bodies.

“What’s uh…” Hangman starts, glancing down at Phoenix and Bob and then back at me and Rooster, “what’s going on in here?”

“Marital bliss,” Rooster tries, pulling me into his side.

Hangman’s eyebrows knit.

Maverick claps a hand on Bob’s shoulder, a stoic sort of gesture. Bob remains in his spot, choking back his sobs just barely. His flower crown is lopsided.

“Well, it was a beautiful ceremony,” Maverick grins, “and I just want to tell you two that uh-!”

Now Maverick’s eyes are welling with tears, now he’s the one that’s choking. His eyes are boring into Rooster’s and he blinks rapidly, chuckling dryly and sniffling.

He is going to break before any of us do.

“It has been a true joy,” Maverick chokes, “watching the two of you find each other. And I’m so thankful to have you both in-in my life.”

Now Bob claps a hand on Maverick’s shoulder--mutual support.

“Let it out,” Bob says quietly, “you’ll feel better.”

But that is more than enough to push me over the edge again. I’m not sure I ever even really stopped crying, but the tears that drip down my face are hot and salty, sliding between my parted lips.

“Thank you, Mav,” Bradley says gently, “thank you for everything.”

Jake catches my glassy gaze and tuts, shaking his head softly. He crosses the floor between us, coming to stand on the other side of me. Wordlessly, his eyes soft and his cheeks pink, he reaches into his back pocket and returns with a hanky. He presses it against my cheeks, dabbing the tears, then lays it in my palms so I can blow my nose.

It smells like him--shiny cologne, jet fuel, laundry.

Bradley squeezes me, releasing me for a moment to wrap Maverick in a hug.

And then I hear two more sniffles and Bob and Phoenix are rapidly knuckling under their eyes, watching Bradley and Maverick embrace in the kitchen, both of them grabbing the other with a gentle ferocity.

“Here,” I whisper, handing Phoenix the hanky, “your turn.”

Jake just laughs.

It’s all very good--even if we are all in here crying, sharing a dampening hanky, hugging each other through stifled sobs, pressing mascara out from under our eyes as the guests outside wait for the reception to begin. It’s just plain good--down to the bare bones of it all.

For the next hour, as the sun sinks behind the house in a blaze of blush and rust, we take pictures on our phones and disposable cameras and Bradley’s film camera. We pose for a long time, cycling in and out of frame. We fall in and out of the house, sometimes leaning against my expensive fridge and other times standing among the wildflowers in the backyard. It is all a blur of limbs tangling, of grins spreading. It’s us holding each other as guests mill in and out the backdoor to pick out a vinyl to spin, a small line forming at the chair where the record player is perched.

And when we walk back outside, trailing behind out best friends in the world and their nice clothing, all of our cheeks are ablaze as we clutch bouquets of flowers and each other’s hands. Everyone is holding their disposable cameras, snapping pictures, grinning. Everyone is laughing, grinning. There is not one single unfamiliar face--it is all people that we love very much, surrounding us, welcoming us.

Do You Believe in Magic? by The Lovin’ Spoonfuls is playing.

Rooster and I are holding each other, our hearts beating the exact same cadence, our tongues thick with love.

“The Bradshaw’s,” Warlock grins from beside his wife, “it’s got a ring to it!”

My heart is squeezing, pulsing, aching, throbbing.

“Congratulations,” everyone is saying to us excitedly, their smiles giddy.

“Thank you so much,” Rooster is saying to everybody as we cross the patio and into the grass.

Everyone is hugging us, kissing our cheeks, cooing at us. Their heat is lovely as the chill of the evening invades my backyard.

“Who’s hungry?” Coyote calls to everybody, clapping his hands.

We welcome the evening of our wedding with an abundance of grace and poise.

The night sky is star-speckled, that same sheet of obsidian chiseled away to reveal the burning little things. The moon is proud and yellow, kissing the tree tops and the wildflowers, shining upon everyone’s blanketed shoulders.

We all sit down and eat on our mismatched plates with our mismatched silverware and thrifted glasses. We all sit close together at the tables, thighs pressed against another’s and elbows bumping as everyone reaches for salt at the same time. I sit between Bob and Rooster, both of them leaning into me every once in a while, both of my temples covered in kisses.

Even as we are bathed in moonlight and enveloped in the chilly night air, no one gets cold because we are sitting so close, laughing so hard, generating enough heat to stay outside forever.

All the children run about as we take our time over dinner, running up to me and Phoenix and begging us to show them how to braid plucked wildflowers into the crowns we are wearing, being fielded and shooed by their parents good-naturedly.

“God, they love you guys,” Payback grins at me and Phoenix.

Phoenix, tipping a glass of wine against her smiling lips, shrugs. Her flower crown sits heavy in her long hair.

“We’re popular,” she agrees, “you know, children can really see what’s in someone’s soul. That’s why they like us so much. And why they’ve stayed far away from Hangman.”

Bradley squeezes my knee below the table.

“Kids love me,” Hangman protests, chewing a piece of manchego with his brows pulled together.

“Probably because of everything you have in common,” Payback grins, taking a swig of beer.

“Like only recently learning how to use big-boy scissors,” Rooster chides.

Hangman laughs--a big, open-throated laugh.

“And constantly competing for Faye’s attention,” Fanboy adds, grinning.

I wait and see if it will happen--if Hangman’s face will fall, if his eyes will droop, if his chest will sink. There is a stuttering for a moment as he gains composure, his shoulders stiffening. But then he grins.

“Speaking of,” he starts, eyes falling over mine with a mischievous glint, “have we toasted to Faye’s beauty yet?”

Bob scoffs beside me. My cheeks are pink.

“We haven’t had toasts yet,” Bob says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “so no. Save it!”

Between torn bits of baguette and prosecco and cherry wine and good cheese and rich pasta, hours tick by. The alcohol flows freely, inducing belly-laughter and banter. And we are all basking in this happiness, this good day, this perfect night.

When Rooster and I finally stand from our spots, our bellies full and my lipstick freshly reapplied by Penny’s carefully hand, our fingers are laced together tightly. He still holds my train so it does not grow damp from the grass, humming happily as we fall into place beside Penny and Amelia.

Just One Look by Doris Troy is playing.

The cake is a simple, circular thing. It’s frosted lazily with whipped cream and decorated with little violets and figs and berries that bleed into the softening cream. Penny and Amelia had made it the night before--each part of it made from scratch and delicately organized by their loving hands.

“Ta-da,” Penny grins, “before you say anything--Amelia did all the heavy lifting.”

Amelia, her cheeks dusted with pink, smiles wryly as Rooster bumps her teasingly with his hip.

“Oh, Melly,” I whisper to Amelia, grinning as I wrap her up in my arms, “it’s exactly what we wanted.”

“Good,” Amelia says, sighing, “it was hard work. Now cut! I’m hungry.”

Penny places a kitchen knife in my hand and Rooster circles his arm around my waist, pulling me close to him, kissing my cheek.

Everybody is still chattering happily, finishing their wine glasses and opening new bottles of beer, laughing and eating. It feels good to not be watched so very closely right now--makes my throat softer.

“What’s our angle,” Rooster asks, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“You’re the pilot,” I bite back.

He pinches my hip.

Rooster and I hold the knife and cut in tandem, his rough hands enveloping mine, the spongy cake no match to our combined grip. We feed it to each other with mischievous smiles and clean hands, camera’s flashing all around us in the dark.

“Love you,” Rooster grins, his mouth still full.

He swipes his thumb across the corner of my mouth, where a dot of cream must’ve been resting.

I kiss his thumb, the pad of it, feel his fingerprint against my lips and know that everything will be good from here on out. We love each other too much for anything bad to happen.

“I know,” I tell him.

Love swims through his amber eyes, pulsing and consuming him.

When Rooster makes his way to the middle of the patio, everybody settled into their seats--even the children, who are still sucking blackberry pulp from their teeth and wiping their crumby mouths on their parents shirtsleeves--I feel like I’m drunk.

I might be a little drunk, a few glasses of prosecco resting carefully in my belly. But more than that, it is the intense happiness that is bursting through me. My eyes are still wet from Bob’s speech that he hiccupped and sniffled through, his flower crown tilted upon his head. And my throat is still warm from Maverick’s speech, too--from the tight curl of Rooster’s lip when Maverick told him how proud his parents would be of him, when he toasted not only to the happy couple but to the happy couple that raised Bradley into such a fine, young man.

I Only Have Eyes for You by The Flamingos is playing now.

Bradley still looks perfect--his hair just mussed enough, his collar unbuttoned, his lips wet and pink. He’s holding a pink glass full of cherry wine. He’s grinning at everybody, adjusting so he can see everybody around him, letting his gaze end on my smiling face.

There’s that secret language of lovers, which is only a little different than the secret language of friends. Our string is pulled tight, vibrating, thickening.

Love you.

I know.

“On behalf of my bride and myself--thank you everybody for coming today,” Rooster starts, his voice deep and joyful among the crickets and music, “and thank you especially to our squadron. You guys have really outdone yourselves helping us--we really couldn’t have done this without you all.”

The men all raise their beers in recognition and Rooster smiles fondly, shaking his head.

“My bride,” Rooster sighs contentedly, eyes finding mine as he shakes his head in quiet disbelief, “God, I love saying that. Faye, honey--I know that I’m not in the minority here when I say this; you are my favorite person. It’s not even close--sorry, Mav.”

There is a rumbling of chuckles, a tipping of drinks.

Bob leans into my shoulder, his soft hair against my throat. Phoenix falls into place on my other shoulder not a moment later, her smile growing against my skin. Rooster is grinning at us, at me.

My heart is throbbing. I love him so much.

“You’re the kind of person that everybody loves. You’re sweet and almost overly polite--you’re the first person I’ve ever met that actually stops to sign petitions on the sidewalk,” Rooster grins as chuckles ripple through the crowd, “you’re the only person I trust to drive the Bronco. You make the best chocolate chip cookies in the world and never brag about it. You’re the kind of person that somehow always smells good and you floss, like, every single day. You are show-stoppingly beautiful. I mean, drop-dead gorgeous. And it comes so easily to you. You don’t even have to try, baby. You’re just perfect naturally.”

I’m grinning now, sniffling.

“I’d heard all about Crimson and Clover at whatever base I was stationed at, before we met. I’m sure everyone here has heard their fair share of stories,” Rooster grins as a hum of agreement emanates from our guests, “But nothing could’ve prepared me for the first time I saw Clover Ledger. I actually didn’t know I was talking to the Clover Ledger and might’ve called her little lady. I’m never gonna live that down, right, honey?”

“Right,” I chirp, biting my lip.

Everyone laughs. Bob squeezes me.

“Always keeping me on my toes,” he laughs, “the first time I saw her, she was standing outside The Hard Deck in this sundress. And God, she was a knockout--she had this incredible long hair just waving in the wind and the sun was on her face and she was just grinning at me. We had this whole perfect exchange outside the bar and when we got inside, I told her that I hadn’t caught her name. And then she just grinned up at me and told me that she didn’t tell me her name before she saluted and just walked away. That’s when I knew I was really in for it.”

I still remember it--still remember walking into The Hard Deck with him right behind me, unknowingly accompanying me across the threshold on my first night there since my sister had died. I still remember how his cheeks were dusted pink, how his lips were biting into a smile.

“You know,” he sighs, addressing the crowd now, smile soft and sweet, “I feel like everybody probably says this about the person they marry--but Faye is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t even really know what I was doing before I met her, honestly. She has given me more than I ever could’ve wanted: her name, her trust, her love, her hand in marriage.”

It’s my turn to teasingly roll my eyes. Phoenix’s chest rumbles with a chuckle.

“She’s just the best thing in the world. I can’t get enough of her,” he grins, “and getting to know her these past almost-two years has been the highlight of my entire life. I am a lucky, lucky man who probably doesn’t deserve her. But I am going to spend my entire life worshiping that woman because I think that is what I am on this earth to do.”

Heat pools between my legs when he catches my gaze, his lips wet and parted.

“So, if everybody would raise their glasses a final time, I would like to toast to my wife,” Bradley says as he holds his glass in the air, everybody follows suit--the children with their glasses of sparkling cider.

He holds my gaze, that loved-up glaze over his big eyes, as everybody turns to smile at me.

“Faye, my blushing bride,” he starts, his voice soft and deep, “you’re the best part of my day, every single day. You’re homebase, honey. Thank you for making me the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. So--to everybody’s favorite person, the vision in white--thank you for being alive!”

Everyone drinks in unison, bringing their glass to their lips. My face is red, my fingers warmer than they have been all day. Light applause floods the night as Rooster makes his way back over to me, his eyes never leaving mine.

“I love you,” I mutter against his lips when he leans down to kiss me, my fingers clutching his collar, “so much.”

He nuzzles his nose against mine, his mustache tickling my upper lip perfectly.

“I know it,” he whispers back, “that’s what got us into this mess.”

Children are catching lightning bugs among the Indian mallows when our song starts on the record player, their hands sticky and their laughter heavy and so sweet that it nearly drowns out the song.

I’m standing beside Cyclone’s wife, Gillian, talking about the best vintage stores in Lemoore when the opening notes flood the patio. It prickles my spine, makes the hair on the back of my neck stand to attention. And then Rooster is there behind me, wrapping an arm around my waist, grinning into the skin of my neck.

“Excuse us, Gilly,” Rooster says as she grins widely at the both of us.

“Dismissed,” she teases, her auburn hair cascading in ringlets across her aspen-colored dress.

Rooster kisses my face a few times as we walk to the middle of the patio, the string lights above us glowing golden. The wind billows, blowing the scent of flowers to us as we fall into place easily, so easily; my left hand against his heart, his right arm around my waist, our hands clasped, our chests flush against each other’s.

He’s gazing down at me sweetly, his forehead pressed against mine, his lips curled into an adored smile.

“Hi,” I whisper, my voice only loud enough for him to hear.

We are so close that there’s almost no air left to breathe. Our smiles are permanent ones, our skin perfumed by the night air.

“I’m so glad I married you,” he tells me gently.

My throat grows warm.

I know I am exactly where I’m supposed to be.

“I’m so glad you married me, too,” I whisper.

We are spinning in slow circles, a few people watching us, a few people snapping pictures. But for the most part right now, beneath the string lights and with Sweet Thing playing and children gleefully hollering and our friends all laughing, it feels like it’s just us here.

He’s humming along to the song, his voice like silk over gravel.

He spins me out a few times and I come back to his chest every time. When he dips me, I let him hold me there in the air. We hold each other and keep each other warm, our bodies soft for each other.

And we kiss and kiss and kiss and it tastes like tart berries and sweet almond cake.

Everyone dances, dances long and hard, dances for hours. Everyone is there on the patio as records endlessly spin--from Marvin Gaye to Madonna to John Denver--with endless glasses pressed against their palms. There is not even one unfamiliar face, not even the extended parts of people’s family, the people that we don’t work with. I know Cyclone’s wife’s favorite color, I know Hondo’s children’s birth order, I know Warlock’s son’s alma mater. And I love that I know these things and I love that we are all dancing together, under the light of the white-rice moon, in my backyard of my home, everyone flushed with unabashed joy.

When Tiny Dancer plays, Bob and I start out the only ones on the dance floor. The squadron is gathered around the tables in the farthest part of the yard, discreetly taking shots of tequila as others have a second helping of cake or refill their glasses or picks out another record.

“Thought I’d find you here,” I tease when Bob takes my hands.

Bob’s a little bit drunk now, his flower crown now resting on the head of Elizabeth Simpson as she starts to meander her way over to us.

“Think we’ve got company,” Bob grins, nodding in the direction of Elizabeth.

We are only dancing with our hands tied for a moment before Elizabeth is tugging on my dress, her blue eyes big and the flower crown on her head nearly falling over her eyebrows.

“Why, hello there,” I smile down at her.

She smiles a toothless smile.

Prosecco is fizzling my throat when Bob and I join hands with Elizabeth, singing with our mouths wide open as giggles tumble out from between her berry-stained teeth.

Then suddenly all the children are crashing into us, demanding to be held, pulling on my dress and Bob’s pant legs alike. And it’s a mess of limbs and hair and giggles as we pick up as many as we can.

“We’re surrounded,” Bob teases, holding Zooey and Beatrix Bates on either hip as they press their fingers against his lenses.

I’m biting my lip, readjusting Murphy Coleman on my right hip and Wren Coleman on my left as Elizabeth attempts to climb my back. Their heaviness is a good one, though--all of them there in my arms, their bellies soft and full of cake.

Murphy is gleefully plucking petals from my flower crown as Wren giggles uncontrollably, clutching my shoulder as I dance them around the patio. Their sweet, smooth skin gleams under the lights and their laughter nearly drowns out Elton John. It is such a beautiful sound, echoing out and into the night.

“Dagger two defending,” Rooster suddenly calls, swooping down to encase Elizabeth in his arms, “splash one, splash one!”

Now Evelyn Simpson and Lincoln Bates are sprinting towards Rooster, clutching each other’s hands as their pink cheeks glow in the brisk air.

“Tally two, three o’clock!” I call to Rooster, grinning.

But it is too late. By the time he glances over, he’s already being attacked. With complete abandon, Evelyn and Lincoln jump onto Rooster, a gaggle of limbs and long hair and baby teeth.

For a moment, I can’t breathe watching him there. They jump onto him, hold on tight with skinny little arms and red cheeks and he holds all of them without staggering. He’s laughing just as hard as they are, his grin splitting his face wide open, his laugh ringing out above the music. They’re pulling his hair and touching his mustache and climbing him like a tree and he is basking in the glory of it all, spinning them around, tickling their necks.

Something twitches in my belly, drips down and pools in my lace underwear.

He looks like a natural.

People begin to trickle out after eleven, sleeping children slung over parents shoulders, car engines rumbling to life out front. We kiss everyone goodbye, thank them for coming.

When I walk into the dimly lit house by myself, the foyer light is on. So I cross through the living room and stand on the steps, my feet bare and my cheeks stained with tears of joy, laughter.

Cyclone is standing on the entryway tile, facing me, his eyes momentarily slipped shut as he strokes the top of Elizabeth’s knotted hair. She is still wearing Bob’s flower crown, which Cyclone carefully navigates around, as she leans against her father’s pantleg, her cheek squished and her eyes closed.

She opens her eyes and sees me as soon as I step onto the first step. She grins a cheeky grin, cheeks rosy.

“Clover,” she greets with a giggle.

Cyclone is looking at me now, too. He has Gillian’s coat folded over his arm and when he sees me, he smiles, his hand still on Elizabeth’s head.

“Lizzy,” I smile at Elizabeth, stepping onto their level with a breath held in my lungs, “Cyclone.”

Elizabeth toddles over to me, no taller than my belly button, and smushes her face against my belly, wrapping her arms around my legs. Her breath is warm and wet as she breathes into the fabric of my dress. I hold her back, smiling, very soft.

Cyclone is smiling very fondly at us--the smile of a father. It makes me ache for him to be my own father suddenly, watching the way he watches her when she mumbles something incoherent into my dress.

“I wanted to thank you,” I tell Cyclone, licking my bottom lip, still patting Elizabeth’s back softly as she grows heavier against me, “for everything.”

He knows what I mean. He knows that I mean for everything that happened before: rehab in Arizona, the research job, the ride to the abortion clinic, the extended bereavement leave, walking me down the aisle, dancing with me tonight. All of it, everything he’s ever done for me, born out of that little Faye-shaped soft spot.

His mouth is upturned slightly, his posture remarkably casual.

“Of course,” he tells me, “I consider you to be…well, one of my own.”

One of my own.

I could cry. I could really just break down and cry right now, but Elizabeth is hugging me closer, carrying on some muffled conversation into my dress that I cannot decipher. And I have cried enough today.

“I am a lucky woman,” I manage to whisper.

He swallows, eyes sifting from my own glossy gaze to the back of his daughter’s head.

“And I am a very proud man.”

Now we are sitting outside and it is well after midnight.

It’s just the usual suspects now: me, Rooster, Phoenix, Bob, Hangman, Coyote, Fanboy, and Payback. Everyone is still in their wedding clothes, eyelids painted and lips bitten, buttons undone and zippers disengaged. Almost nobody is wearing shoes, all of them discarded lovingly in the doorway of the kitchen. We are strewn around the section of patio that we used as the dance floor, a limb here and a stray flower crown there.

A Sunday Kind Of Love by Etta James is flooding the air around us, floating peacefully to our misshapen circle.

I am sitting between Rooster’s legs against the bricks, my dress around me in a flood of pearly silk, the soles of my feet stained from dancing barefoot. Rooster is reclining on his palms as I lay against his chest, tucking his chin on top of my head, nudging my calf with his socked foot. We are flanked by Bob and Hangman, both of them reclining with their legs outstretched before them, their hair falling from its gel hold. Phoenix is beside Bob, lying on her belly, holding her chin with flat palms. Coyote is between Fanboy and Payback across from us, all three of them sitting criss-cross with their dress shirts almost entirely unbuttoned.

No one is very drunk--we are all coming down from solid 7’s and 8’s, sipping on tap water and flat prosecco, the glasses all around us in an array of rainbow cups. There are a few cream-colored, berry-stained china plates on the patio too from when the boys got peckish.

The backyard is a mess--a beautiful one. The makeshift aisle has been dominated by the chairs that were moved and mingled by wedding guests, but the pale flower petals are still heavily sprinkled all along the brick. The flowers are still out here, too, vases and bunches and bouquets covering seemingly every surface--their scent very sweet and pungent, tickling us when the wind blows in from any direction. Further out in the yard, between the eucalyptus trees, the wooden tables are amess with dinner plates and serving platters and cutlery and soiled napkins and empty cups. No chairs are pushed into the table and the tables are cockeyed and the legs are starting to sink into the lawn. There is a wicker bowl of disposable film cameras resting on the ground outside the backdoor, each one full of today from everyone else’s perspective. Candles are still lit and strewn all about the patio, an endless amount of taper candles that are burning to the wick, stuck in mismatched holders ranging from clay to brass. And above us all, carefully stringing across the entire yard, are yellow bulbs that dimly illuminate us all here together.

And in spite of--or maybe because of--the mess, I am the calmest I have been all day. Serenity washes over me right here with my feet against the brick, with Rooster’s lips against the top of my head, with all of my friends open-mouthed and laughing their throaty laughs.

The night is a starlit, nippy one. It holds us in its empty hands, wrapping us up, tucking us in, holding us close.

Rooster’s breath fans out across the top of my head, infinitely warmer than the air around us.

“Who cried the most?” Payback asks, grinning.

“Me,” Bob and I say in tandem.

We grin at each other--he looks very soft right now in the dark, blue eyes shimmering in the candlelight, lips parted as he laughs.

“Bobby barely got through his speech,” Fanboy chuckles.

It’s true--he cried as soon as he said the opening words of his speech: I’ve had the privilege of knowing Faye since 2014, when we met in a Major Authors class. That was all he said before he paused suddenly, pursing his thin lips as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat, blinking back his tears. I had watched from my seat, my own eyes damp, Rooster’s hand gripping my own.

“Faye didn’t even make it down the aisle,” Coyote counters good-naturedly, smiling widely.

That’s true, too--the overwhelming glee that infected me was sudden and intense. It was the kind of happy-cry I didn’t really know even happened until I was there and it was happening, when my heels were thumping the bricks and Cyclone was holding my hand in his.

“Dunno what came over me,” I laugh, sighing.

But I do know what came over me--it was love. The big, all-consuming love that I used to fall asleep dreaming about. It was waiting for me at the end of the aisle in a pair of polished leather shoes and an at-home haircut.

“Think I saw some Rooster tears in there, too,” Phoenix laughs, shooting a grin at Rooster, “didn’t I, Bradshaw?”

“Maybe a few,” he says, shrugging, “nothing to write home about.”

He cried more than a few times. They were all good tears--tears I am so lucky to have wiped with the sleeve of my wedding dress, tears I would put on my tongue if I could.

“Think I saw some from Hangman, too,” Payback adds slyly.

Everyone laughs except for me, Hangman, and Coyote. We smile, still, our lips tight and our cheeks flaxen. But between the three of us, there is something that we all register, a stiltedness in Hangman’s dry chuckle and rigid adjustment on the brick.

“Bagman? You were crying?”

It’s Phoenix that says this, her tone incredulous.

Jake is staring down at his splayed hands, biting his lip, shaking his head with a forced nonchalance. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, furrowing his brows. But then he sucks in a breath and meets her teasing eyes across the circle.

“Couldn’t help myself,” he defends, nodding towards me, “everyone cries when Faye cries.”

Another round of laughter, but I see the crinkle between Payback’s brow. He laughs lowly, but eyes Hangman very carefully, his gaze curious and accusing. But he says nothing more.

“Can’t believe it’s over,” Bradley muses from behind me.

I hum, nodding.

“Flew right by,” I echo, “can’t believe we’re married.”

I bring my left hand in front of me again. There is the opal engagement ring, the sweet and simple one I consider to be my most treasured item. But below it now is another thin, round band adorned with opal and diamonds shaped like a half-lotus, pressed snuggly against my engagement ring. Wordlessly, Bradley brings his left hand to mine, cupping my fingers. His gold band catches in the light, a flash of soft yellow, as he pulls my hand to his mouth and kisses the middle of my palm.

There’s that serenity flooding me again, washing over me from head to toe, kissing me on the mouth and sharing my breath.

“Hey,” Bob says, turning his cheek towards us, “if Maggie had been here today, what would you two have danced to?”

It’s quiet for a moment. Etta James is still crooning, the leaves are rustling in the wind, and crickets are beginning to chirp from further in the yard. Rooster is humming quietly.

“Well, you know the obvious one,” I say and Bob nods.

“Landslide,” he answers, smiling.

I bite my lip and nod, too.

“Maybe Carey by Joni Mitchell,” I grin, chuckling, “she loved Joni.”

Everyone is still smiling around us, taking what I say in stride, their chests loose with camaraderie instead of the pitiful glossy-eyed heaviness that people can sometimes get. I can say things about Maggie, can talk about her right now, and no one is uncomfortable.

Her feather is tucked into my bra, sitting safely in the lace there, right up against my heart.

“What about you, Rooster?” Bob asks softly, moving his gaze to Rooster.

I can feel Rooster’s smile as he dwells for a moment. He has two answers instead of one. That makes my throat tighten, makes me want to take care of him all over again.

“For my mom, probably All Shook Up. That was her Sunday song, you know? And for my old man,” Rooster inhales before giving a small shrug, “the classic.”

“Goodness gracious, great balls of fire,” Phoenix and Fanboy croon identically.

“That’s the one,” Rooster chuckles, “guess we’re getting predictable, honey.”

He squeezes my hip. There’s a chuckle in everyone’s throats now.

“Any honeymoon plans?” Coyote inquires.

Rooster nods.

“Two weeks in Maine,” he answers, “but not until …well.”

I have to crane my neck to look at him. His face is soft, slack--his eyes are glimmering in the dim light, his lips wet, his breath warm. He soothes my hair softly, a smile tugging at his lips. There is a knowing glint in his eyes, one we share--a secret between the two of us.

“G’head,” I whisper, smiling, “tell ‘em.”

Everyone perks up at that, leaning closer, straightening their spine.

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

Bob’s eyes are wide, his spine straightened, his cheeks very pink.

I shake my head, heat flooding my cheeks.

“Bob! No,” I laugh, “I’m not pregnant. Don’t have a heart attack.”

Bob clutches his chest, heaving a deep sigh.

“Good because you drank a lot and I’m not in a headspace right now to lecture you about Fetal Alcohol Syndrome,” he defends.

Phoenix fans him teasingly, rolling her eyes at his sudden theatrics.

“We can’t go on our honeymoon until the house sells,” he starts slowly, “and we can’t put the house on the market until we finish renovations on our new home.”

Everyone’s mouth is agape. There’s a collective crease between everyone’s brows, their throats dry and empty of words.

“New house?” Hangman asks softly.

I nod, glancing at him, briefly catching his eyes before I flit my gaze back to the taper candle burning slowly in the middle of the circle.

“We’re moving to Virginia,” I announce, a giddy bubble bursting in my chest, “into Rooster’s childhood home.”

“Chateau Bradshaw?”

That’s what the squadron affectionately calls Bradley’s childhood home--born from the pictures I lovingly sent to the group chat from the week of Bradley’s birthday, our engagement. Everyone was impressed, oohing and awing, devouring the images with a rabid hunger and asking for more.

“Yes,” Bradley grumbles teasingly, “we’re moving to Chateau Bradshaw.”

Then there’s that sweet sound of friendship--everyone is congratulating us, Phoenix crawling across the bricks to wrap us up in her arms and Bob quickly following suit. And then suddenly everyone has their arms wrapped around us and we’re being pressed into the brick beneath perspiration-perfumed skin and velvet. Our laughter echoes louder than the crickets, louder than the record, louder than anything else on Mulberry Street.

“Applying for a transfer, then?” Fanboy asks when he situates himself in his previous spot, swiping a bit of cream from a discarded plate and sinking it onto his tongue.

“Both of us are,” Rooster says, “Cyclone said he’d put in a good word.”

Bob sighs, raking a hand through his brown locks.

“Can’t really imagine you outside of San Diego, Faye,” Bob muses, eyes catching mine.

Phoenix hums in agreement.

“Feels like homebase is moving,” she adds.

There’s a small sound of agreement from the rest of the group and it makes my heart swell. I know that I am homebase--but to hear it outloud, to hear everyone here confirm it, it makes me soft all over.

“Aren’t there, like, nine bedrooms?”

“Seven,” I correct Payback, “so more than enough room for everyone.”

Rooster squeezes my hip.

“Virginia,” Hangman echoes, “that ain’t too far from North Carolina.”

He’s grinning, his smile worthy of a gum commercial.

Rooster nods, chuckling, his chest warm and rumbling under my spine.

“Come anytime, Bagman,” Rooster offers, “we’ll need someone to landscape, anyway.”

Hangman laughs--I feel like it’s the first time I’ve really heard him laugh today. I won’t look at him, won’t stutter the sound that’s falling out from between his lips. I’ll keep my gaze fixed on the candle, on my other friends’ tired faces.

“What was everyone’s favorite part of today?”

I can’t help myself--I have to ask.

There’s a collective hum as everyone thinks.

“Our song,” Bob smiles, patting my knee.

He means when we danced to Tiny Dancer, when all the children in attendance crowded around us and we picked them up and swayed them and belted our hearts into the evening air.

“Sap,” Hangman teases before sighing, “gotta say, though--thought the best part of today was seeing just how soft Cyclone is for you, Faye. You kinda got him wrapped around your finger, sugar plum.”

I know that it shouldn’t, but it feels good that he’s calling me sugar plum again. He is back to that shameless kind of flirting, the kind he doesn’t mind being witnessed by my husband. I much prefer this to secret living room confessions in the midst of a haircut--which very nearly doesn’t feel real anymore.

“Did you know he was gonna walk you down?” Fanboy asks.

“No,” I answer, “he just came inside and took my arm.”

“It was sweet,” Phoenix whispers, “but I loved dinner. It felt really intimate, you know? It was nice to just have a breather and eat and talk.”

“That’s what we wanted,” Rooster smiles, kissing my head a few times, “just wanted everything to be still for a while.”

“The garter toss,” Fanboy suddenly says.

Now everyone’s laughing again but my chest is flooding with embarrassment, my cheeks reddening.

My garter was snagged on my panties and Rooster was unwilling to damage either’s lace, which meant that he stayed underneath the canopy of my silk skirt for over two minutes, carefully detangling them from each other as the small crowd grew more rambunctious. And when he’d finally returned, a triumphant smile fitted across his sweet face, he’d thrown the garter into the crowd and directly onto Warlock’s plate.

“Don’t remind me,” I groan.

“Rooster didn’t even come up for air,” Coyote teases, “thought you were a goner, man.”

Another uproar--I can’t help but crack a bemused smile, too. It was all in good fun. And even though Rooster had been innocently and diligently trying to detangle my lace, he had also been peppering open-mouthed kisses along the innermost parts of my thighs.

“I thought the cake was great,” Payback grins, “and the wine. Love free booze.”

“Oh,” Fanboy agrees, “changing my answer to free booze.”

“Your vows,” Coyote says suddenly, cheeks reddening as he bites a shy grin, “they were sweet.”

It makes my cheeks redden, too.

“And I’m the one going gooey?” Phoenix asks pointedly, gesturing to Coyote.

Everyone trickles out slowly after that--first it is Coyote and Fanboy, then it is Bob and Phoenix, then Payback. We wave goodbye to everyone from the side of the house, beside the open gate, still in our wedding attire. Everyone promises to come back to the house after our brunch reservation to clean up, everyone honks as they start down the road.

Hangman is the last to leave.

“Would the bride mind walkin’ me to my truck?” Jake asks, smirking at Bradley.

Bradley finds my eyes--a quick, flickering glance.

It’s okay. I’ll go. I’m fine. Stay here.

“Up to her,” Bradley smiles back at Jake, “don’t keep her too long, though.”

So I hold Jake’s arm as we walk across the side of my house, the grass dewy and cold as it tickles my ankles. Jake’s jaw is squared as he matches my pace, his bicep flexed under my curled fingers.

The crickets croon all around us, but otherwise, Mulberry Street is very quiet tonight. It is empty except for us two, the streetlamps dim and yellow, the trees rustling softly in the wind.

“You okay?” I ask finally.

He makes a sound in his throat--clears it, sniffs one time, eyes still fixed ahead of him.

“Was gonna ask you the same thing,” he says, “but I’m okay.”

I bite my lip hard.

“You cried,” I say gently as we cross into the front yard finally, the moon kissing our faces.

And he doesn’t try to deny it. He nods, blinking a few times, shoulders falling a bit.

“I cried,” he answers.

Fuck, that makes me feel rotten to the core. I was so blissfully unaware of everything around me the moment I walked down the aisle, so blindingly happy that I had not even considered him for a moment.

“When?”

I ask when because I don’t need to ask why.

He sucks in a breath. We are approaching his truck now, something he rented, a stark difference from his beloved Jaguar I know he has with him in North Carolina.

“Let’s not torture each other anymore,” he answers wetly, “okay?”

He’s looking down at me when we cross onto the concrete driveway. My feet are bare and damp, his leather shoes dotted with dew. His eyes are shining, glossy and swimming. His mouth is a straight line, but his cheeks are flushed.

“Okay,” I agree, my throat tight, “friends, right?”

Pain flashes across his features. But he nods sharply.

“Friends,” he confirms, really meaning it.

He hugs me again--a hug less tight than the one in the bedroom earlier, but still one that pushes every part of me against every part of him. And he smooths his hand over my hair and I pat his back and then he gets into his truck and I wave goodbye, promising to see him the next morning at eleven.

I wait until his taillights disappear into the night before I cross the yard to find Rooster again.

And then Rooster and I are alone on the patio for the first time in what feels like forever. He’s rolling the sleeves of his dress shirt up, humming along with At Last. His shirt is almost entirely unbuttoned, his toned chest glimmering beneath the naked bulbs above us. His pants are well-fitting; tight and contoured around his body, hugging his hips and thighs. His hair is messier now, his curls beginning to spring in different directions.

“You look beautiful,” I whisper.

He pauses in his spot, bringing his eyes up to my figure standing before him, my hands on my hips and my smile one of utmost gentleness.

“You look perfect,” he tells me, closing the distance between us slowly.

We stand with our chests grazing another’s, his forehead coming down to press against mine. He pulls my hands from my hips and pulls them to his chest, letting them rest there as he hums, hands falling to my hips where they grip me.

“Always trying to one-up me,” I whisper, nuzzling my nose against his, “aren’t you?”

He hums, pulling me closer, impossibly closer.

“I can’t believe you’re my wife now,” he muses as we begin to gently sway, the brick cold against my bare feet, “FayeBradshaw.”

“There’s actually a Ledger in there somewhere,” I sigh, resting my cheek against the breast of his shirt.

He’s warm and solid beneath my cheek, arms moving to wrap around me entirely. We are so close and so warm that I think we could stay out here all night without our skin even goosing. I think we could live like this.

“I wanna hear your vows again,” Bradley mumbles, still moving us in a slow, small circle as he holds me against him.

My spine is shivering below his fingertips. Warmth is blooming in my throat.

“Right now?”

“Please,” he whispers, voice deep and serious, “please.”

I press a sweet kiss to his peck through his shirt, a silent yes, okay, yes.

“Bradley,” I start softly, “I knew I wanted to marry you during our first argument. It was a silly argument, one that I know I started, one that you finished. And I couldn’t even wait until after to realize it. I realized it smack-dab in the middle of it with a blaring oh, fuck. I knew that I loved you much before that, maybe before I even met you. It’s always felt that way with you--like we’ve known each other for a very long time. Somehow, you have managed to make me love you in different ways every single day. You make me feel like a whole person. I vow to keep wanting to marry you in the middle of any arguments, even after today. I vow to keep loving you in new ways every single day. I vow to stay right here with you. I vow to take whatever you give me. I vow to buy you bottles of cherry wine and smile in every picture you take. I vow to love you and keep on loving you forever, baby.”

Bradley’s nose is buried in my hair when I finish uttering my vows, the air nipping at our exposed skin as he sighs against my scalp. He holds me closer, wraps his arms around me tighter and tighter. I kiss his chest again.

To be loved so thoroughly, so completely after all this aloneness--it feels very warm.

“Faye,” he follows gently, “I knew I wanted to marry you the very first time I saw you.”

That had made everybody laugh, including me. I’m chuckling now, shaking my head lightly as he soothes his fingers through the ends of my hair, endlessly twirling us.

“You were standing outside one of my favorite places in the world, wearing a pretty dress, checking me out. And as soon as you started making fun of me--baby, I was yours,” he whispers, chuckling softly, “I couldn’t get enough of you--I still can’t get enough of you. Nothing in my life has ever been as easy as this. I feel like I’ve known you forever. I want to be the one that knows you forever. I vow to fall more and more in love with you when you call me names. I vow to never get enough of you. I vow to make everything real easy for you, honey. I vow to love you the way my parents loved each other. I vow to be your soulmate. I vow to never leave.”

Now I’m the one humming, peppering kisses across his chest.

“They’d be proud of us,” I whisper.

He knows that I mean the lot of them--Maggie, Carole, Goose.

“I know,” he whispers, “I know they would be.”

A beat passes. We are lazily spinning, resting against each other, lulling softly as the record spins on and the night passes quietly by us.

“Let me get you to bed, baby,” he whispers.

It is a blur from there.

It’s slow and soft at first, tucking his arms beneath my legs and carrying me over the threshold of our bedroom, placing me quietly upon our freshly washed duvet. It’s us breathing and laughing into each other’s mouths, kisses slow and deliberate, fingers curling through gelled curls and dislodging my veil. And then it’s me stepping out of my dress and against his naked chest, and the kisses are hungry and open-mouthed and our chests are heaving. It’s his fingers between my legs, my hand wrapped around his length, his lips around my hardening nipples.

Fuck, everything feels so good--feels so perfect that I can’t even open my eyes, can’t even form a coherent sentence as his fingers circle my swollen clit. And I’m thinking about all the parts of today that made me want him--when I trimmed his mustache in just our underwear, when I saw him standing at the end of the aisle with that sappy smile on his lips, when all the kids climbed all over him and he loved it. And thinking about these things with his fingers pressed into me, gathering my wetness, with his lips staining bruises across my chest--it’s enough to make my knees buckle with a gasp.

Then it’s him whispering to me, lips attached to the shell of my ear.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he whispers to me, all breath and gravel and wet, “I’ll get you there. Always get you there, don’t I, baby? I’ve got you.”

“Love you,” is all I can squeak out in response as I thumb a pearl of precum over the head of his heavy cock, his free arm holding me flush against him.

“Looked so fuckin’ perfect today,” he whispers, “so fuckin’ beautiful. Fuck, I’m so lucky. I love you, baby.”

And then it’s him lying on the bed, stark, eyes washed in honey.

It’s almost two in the morning now. The bedroom is dark, very dark--only the moonlight streaming in through the windows. I know just outside, the backyard is a beautiful reminder of today, of the start of our marriage.

My thighs quiver as they straddle him, hugging his hips. He’s pressed very deeply inside of me, up to the hilt, and I am so very full of him that I have to sit there for a moment and breathe deeply.

Beads of pleasure work down from my hairline and flush my body, make my skin sizzle. It’s an overwhelming kind of pleasure--like I am going to combust. Like I am not going to make it out of this alive.

His eyes are half-shut as they peer into mine, his chest blooming with color as it heaves, his thumb rubbing lazy circles around my clit while his other hand tightly holds my hip. He’s so strong, holding me down, keeping me safe.

Yes, yes this is what I want.

“Oh, Faye,” he moans, “you’re killin’ me, baby.”

That’s when I move. When my hips rise, ever so slightly nudging that spongy spot deep inside of me, his breath hitches. And it’s all a cascading effect--his circles on my slick clit get tighter and faster, his grip on my hip tighter.

“Bradley,” I whisper and it elicits another moan from him, one that is throaty and deep.

I clench around him, heat pooling in my belly, the leather cord he has become so accustomed to already worn so fucking thin just from him sitting deep inside of me. He is so thick and perfect inside of me, his skin soft and slick with perspiration.

My head tips back, heavy with pleasure, when I start to ride finally. And it really almost pushes me over the edge immediately--I am teetering already, his fingers moving fast and his moans strumming me and his cock buried very deep inside my body. And I’m moaning with my mouth wide open, tongue dry and throat warm, and he’s bucking his hips up to meet mine and oh, oh, oh.

“Look at me, baby,” he urges raggedly, “lemme see those eyes, pretty girl.”

I can do nothing but comply. My chin is tucked against my chest, the opal pendant warm beneath my jaw. And he’s looking up at me with his cheeks ablaze, with his chest heaving, with his hair mussed, his mustache wet with my saliva and his.

“Make me cum,” I whisper to him, “please, baby.”

In our time together, our sex life has only been enriched. Knowing the intricate parts of each other, knowing to caress here and to press there and nibble softly but grab harshly--it has catapulted us into a strawberry-scented, pink-dusted sort of ecstasy. He knows that when I can’t speak, when I can only bite my lip and furrow my brows, that I am going to cum. And I know that when I kiss his throat with my open mouth, when I say things like please, baby, it sends him into a frenzy.

Suddenly, he jerks up, moaning. He wraps his arm around my waist and holds me tightly against him, fingers moving across my clit so expertly that I am gasping and fireworks are popping behind my eyes. He hungrily connects his mouth to my chest, feverishly kissing my breasts and sucking my nipples, his breath hot and his mustache rough.

He bucks his hips up harshly, setting his own pace.

“‘M right here, baby,” he whispers to me, panting, “you can cum for me, baby, I’ve got you. I’m holding you.”

That is enough to make the cord snap.

Fingernails digging into the skin of his shoulders, gasp caught in my throat, vapor rising behind my eyes, pleasure washing over me, tone ringing in my ears as he rapidly chases his own orgasm.

He moans between my breasts and rides me through the orgasm with an expert knowledge of my body, careful not to nudge me into overstimulation, whispering my name like a prayer.

“So good,” I whisper when I’ve come down, my mouth impossibly dry, “I fucking love you, baby. I’m your wife now. Fuck, love you so much.”

And just like I knew it would--it pushes him over the edge.

With a final buck of his hips, a groan caught between his lips as he presses his face into my left breast, he cums inside of me. A new kind of heat blossoms, one that is familiar, one that spreads carefully.

We catch our breaths without moving from our spots. He’s still seated inside me, softening slowly, with his face pressed into my bare breast. He peppers lazy kisses there, arms encasing me tightly, encouraging me closer to him.

I rake my fingers through his locks and he groans lowly, sending a final shockwave of pleasure through my core. He grows heavy against me as I softly stroke his locks, laying my cheek on top of his head.

“Bradley,” I whisper.

He hums, pulling me closer.

“Faye,” he returns.

There’s that love coming over me again, inching up my body, holding me in its open palms. I love him so fucking much.My husband. My husband. It pulses through me, covers my eyes, kisses my lips.

“Let’s do this all over again tomorrow,” I whisper, tugging his locks softly.

He laughs, a wet and joyous thing, grinning against my skin.

“Gotta get through tonight first,” he lowly whispers to me, “don’t we?”

A spark of pleasure ticks in my belly--somewhere low and deep.

“You did say something about worshiping me,” I whisper, biting down softly on his ear.

He groans.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, baby.”

And then he pushes me so I’m lying flat on the bed and he’s coming out of me, quick and wet. Now the plush duvet is beneath my aching back and he’s hovering me, his heat radiating off him so sweetly and tickling my goosed skin. He’s kissing my face, the scar on my jaw. And he’s softly biting my collar bones, pressing a special kiss to his favorite freckle. And he knows my body so well, worships it so good, loves me so perfectly.

He pauses as he kisses down my belly, my fingers still in his hair.

He looks up at me and I look down at him, blinking through the dark. I’m humming and his lips are parted, his cheeks flushed. He’s so beautiful right before he’s about to go down on me, so perfectly drenched in moonlight.

“Say it,” I whisper softly.

He moans when I tug on his sandy curls, presses a few more kisses to my belly.

“I want you to have my babies,” he says, a smile tugging at his lips.

But I know he’s serious, can feel the blush in his chest, the pep in his pulse.

And oh. Oh, fuck. Warmth spreads through me all over again--no, not warmth. It’s heat that covers me. It’s white hot and the kind of sensation that makes me squirm beneath him.

“Kiss me,” is all I can whisper desperately, pulling him to my lips, devouring him.

☾☽ 𝐚/𝐧: in case there is any confusion at all, this is the second part to the third epilogue!!! Tumblr has a word limit of 40K words apparently....found that out today :)

☾☽ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

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princessmisery666-library · 2 months

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Flowers Of Fate

Summary: Serendipity, luck, coincidence – call it what you will, but Bradley is sure his parents may have had a hand in his good fortune.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: fluff, slight angst, meet-cute.

W/C: 2.5k

Pairing: Rooster x OFC

READ IT NOW: Tumblr // AO3

#top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw #rooster #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x ofc #original female character #rooster x original female character #rooster fluff #oc fic #tgm #tgm fanfiction #tgm fic #tgm oc #top gun fic

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joaquinwhorres · 10 months

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Kiss It Better Masterlist

SUMMARY ››››› After a disastrous night out, Audrey and Javy make a pact to never tell anyone about what happened ever, no matter what. So when word begins to spread around base that a new Top Gun recruit has gone missing and their friends press them about disappearing together despite the fact that they hate each other, the two find themselves doing something even worse than murder: starting a fake relationship.

PAIRING ››››› Javy “Coyote” Machado x F!OC (Machera tag)

UPDATES ››››› As God himself deems fit. Get alerts on FFN or AO3

OCs ››››› Audrey Herrera, Jas Lane from @bobfloydsbabe, Clara Thomas & Layla Burton from @veetlegeuse.

MEDIA ››››› Gif Sets | Edits & Moodboards | Playlist

Chapter 1 | Ready!

Chapter 2 | In the Works

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bobfloydsbabe · 2 years

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takes one to know one | hangman x oc

Rating: T+ Warning(s): Flirting, sexual tension, non-explicit sexual language, kissing, alcohol, one swear word(?) Word count: 3.2k Prompt: N/A Requested: Yes Summary: Jas and Hangman have played tug-of-war for a while, but on this night, it comes to a head. A/N: Massive thank you and shout-out to Anna, who not only requested it but also helped me with the rating and several lines of dialogue, including fickle moods and a plea for Jas to just kiss Hangman. She's been a solid sounding board and an amazing friend. The title is a reference to cowboy like me by Taylor Swift. Enjoy, friends!

IMPORTANT: This story has an OC named Caro and mentions another called Dalia. Both OCs were created by and belong to @anna-phora. They were included with Anna's consent, and the parts involving Caro were read and approved by her prior to posting this. You can find more information about Caro and Dalia here and here.

likes are nice, but comments and reblogs are golden.

Jas was in a sour mood.

She had always lived at the behest of her emotions, and her moods were fickle at best. She was decidedly not a morning person, and everyone knew not to speak to her within the first half hour of her waking up. Her family learned to walk on eggshells around her. They knew that to Jas, their voices sounded like nails on a chalkboard in the morning, and they were better off letting her be. Learning to drink coffee hadn’t helped, and she would still snap if any of her sisters (or her moms) asked a question or made a jibe.

In college, her roommate had suffered in much the same way.

As had every boyfriend, girlfriend, partner, and one-night-stand.

When she went to Med School, she lived off campus to spare everyone, including herself.

Don’t talk to her in the morning, and you’re golden. Joining the Navy, being yelled at, and given orders at the crack of dawn didn’t do much to ease her moods. Jas had to learn to hold her tongue, which proved to be one of her biggest challenges.

She didn’t like being told what to do, especially by people who were less intelligent than her. In short, she didn’t like authority.

Jas had talked back to superiors on multiple occasions, and her record included several warnings for insubordination. Those warnings didn’t do her any good when she saved a man’s leg from amputation against direct orders. She should have been discharged. She should have been kicked out with no pension, no benefits, and stripped of her commendations, but instead, they sent her to Miramar to do routine exams on standard personnel and aviators.

Jas spent most of her days prescribing cough medicine and Tylenol. One would think that Navy personnel would be tougher than that, but if she got one more big burly dude insisting he was dying from seasonal flu, she would scream. But Jas was in no position to complain because she could have been discharged but wasn’t. Someone had taken pity on her, but they still sent her on the most deadbeat boring assignment of her career.

That wasn’t the reason for her sour mood, though.

No, that was all due to one man and one man only. Lieutenant Jake Seresin. Callsign: Hangman.

Pilot extraordinaire, according to himself, and the bane of Jasmine’s existence at present.

Only an hour ago, they’d been flirting as he bought her a beer. She accepted it but rebuffed his advances yet again. She was having fun, and seeing his frustration grow with every rejection made her feel a type of giddy joy that it really shouldn’t.

An hour ago, she had relished in his attention, and now, she was downing tequila shots and washing it down with beer.

Sometimes Jas wished she’d listened to her sisters more. To Birdie, who told her to think before she talked. To River when she told her not to join the Navy because her lack of filter and issues with authority would get her in trouble. Sometimes, on nights like this, when she wanted to strangle a man, Jasmine wished she’d listened to Maggie and stuck to flirting with and dating women. Her moms had said similar things, but she’d never been good at listening to them, either.

So, she watched Hangman teach a stunning red-headed woman to play pool, his cocky grin, green eyes lingering, and his hands wandering.

“You look miserable,” a familiar voice said as she slid into the seat next to Jas. Caro had only been gone five minutes, maybe ten tops, but in that time, Hangman had started his little escapade, and Jas was contemplating murder.

Jas raised a hand to Penny and pointed at the shot glass in front of her. “I’m fine.”

Caro snorted, taking a long sip of her beer. “You’re staring daggers.”

“I am not,” Jas protested as Penny poured another tequila shot for her.

“She hasn’t taken her eyes off him while you were in the bathroom.”

Jas narrowed her eyes at Penny, but she had already disappeared to the other end of the bar, none the wiser to Jas’ glare.

Caro opened her mouth, probably to lecture her. “Don’t,” Jas warned, downing the shot without salt or lime. The liquor burned her throat, but she didn’t much care. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Sometimes it was strange that Caro was five years Jas’ junior, yet she was more mature than Jas had ever been.

Caro sighed, fishing a couple of bills out of her bag and placing them on the counter for Penny, who had wandered back over. “Get her another shot,” she told the bartender. “I’m going home.”

Jas finally tore her eyes away from Hangman and his stupid smirk to look at her friend. “What, why?”

Caro stood, adjusting her bag. “Flirt with Hangman all you want, but I’m not paying for a babysitter just to sit here with you while you’re in a mood about him.”

Jas frowned. “I’m not in a mood.”

Caro quirked a brow. “Penny, back me up here.”

“You’re in a mood,” Penny agreed and poured another shot for Jas.

Jas groaned but stood to offer her friend a hug goodbye. “Give Dalia a kiss for me.”

Caro nodded, a smile playing on her lips at the bond Jas had already formed with her daughter. “I will,” she promised and turned her gaze back to Penny. “Keep an eye on her.”

“I’m not a child,” Jas protested.

“Then stop acting like one.”

Jas stifled another groan. “Rude.”

“Just make out with Hangman for my sake. For Penny’s sake. For this whole bar’s sake,” Caro said, her tone almost pleading.

All Jas offered was a noncommittal grunt.

They said their final goodbyes, and Caro disappeared out the door while Jas sat back down at the bar. It didn’t escape her attention that Fanboy followed Caro outside.

Jas let her eyes stray back to Hangman and the redhead he was teaching pool. Jas didn’t know how to play, but she hadn’t been tempted when he offered to teach her. Back then, he didn’t know that she was in the Navy, too. He didn’t know that she would be examining him the very next day. Jas had suspected but hadn’t known for sure.

She’d found his attempts to take her home funny, a bit desperate, although he probably never had any issues taking women home. With a face and body like that, who wouldn’t go home with him? But Jas wasn’t an easy victim, and she’d always been too stubborn for her own good.

“There’s smoke coming out of your ears,” Penny said, dragging Jas out of her close-to-boiling-point rage thoughts. “You know he’s just doing that to get a reaction out of you, right?”

“What?” She took a sip of her stale and mostly empty beer. It was all she could do not to rip her hair out.

“That,” Penny said, gesturing vaguely at Hangman, who had his hands on the redhead’s hips, his lips close to her ear.

“He can teach pool to whoever he likes,” Jas argued.

“Sure,” Penny agreed but didn’t look convinced. “But you should know he hasn’t left with anyone since he met you.”

Jas gawked at Penny, her eyes flickering back to Hangman. She would have thought he’d need to get laid as often as possible, and surely it had nothing to do with her that he hadn’t. Or maybe he had, and Penny just didn’t know about it. There we other bars, right? Other means of getting laid. Tinder was a thing, after all.

Just then, Hangman looked up, and his green eyes met Jas’ blue ones. He smirked and offered a nod before raising his beer to her. Jas gave a tight-lipped smile in return and glanced back at Penny, who was still looking at her.

“Just put the poor guy out of his misery,” Penny said, barely concealed annoyance slipping into her tone.

Jas looked down at the tequila shot still in front of her. It made her think of Caro, who had paid for it and then left, and Jas decided this was all Hangman’s fault. So in a moment of no impulse control and alcohol flowing through her veins, she downed the shot, slammed it down on the bar, and pushed off the barstool.

She faintly heard Penny say her name over the rush of blood in her ears as her rage spilled over. She marched over to the pool table and ignored the rest of the aviators exchanging glances.

“Seresin,” Jas demanded. Hangman straightened up, his hands leaving the redhead’s hips, but a smirk still played on his perfect features. The redhead looked confused, a frown on her pretty face that Jas might’ve wanted to kiss away if Hangman didn’t make her blood boil.

“Ready for me to teach you, Doc?”

The redhead’s frown deepened, eyes shifting between the two.

“No,” she replied through gritted teeth. “It’s your fault my friend left.”

His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “And how’s that, Doc?”

Jas clamped her mouth shut, teeth pressed so tightly together she feared they might shatter. She hated it when he called her Doc. From everybody else, it didn’t matter because it was her title and profession, but across his lips, it managed to sound like a taunt. She hated how much he affected her.

“Doesn’t matter,” she said weakly. “It just is.”

She then spun on her heel and walked back to the bar. She asked Penny for another tequila shot, downed it, paid her tab, and left through the front door.

Outside, the California heat had lowered, and Jas felt like she could breathe for the first time all night. She hadn’t realized how stifling the bar felt until the breeze cooled her skin down.

She stood in the middle of the parking lot, among the cars, and let out a long breath. She felt the tension leave her body, her shoulders relaxed, and her lungs finally expanded to their fullest. She ran her hands across her face, careful to avoid her eyes, so she wouldn’t smear her mascara.

“Doc!”

She didn’t even try to stifle a groan at the sound of the familiar voice that, in her haze, sounded a little bit like liquid gold. Sweet and sticky, like toffee.

She ignored him and started to walk out of the parking lot to go home.

“Doc,” he called again, but he was closer this time. His voice coated her insides and made her stomach twist in a knot with a feeling she knew all too well, and she hated it.

“Jasmine.”

She froze. Stopped dead in her tracks and slowly turned, facing the man who had just said her name for the first time. Even when he’d introduced himself that first night, and she’d told him her name, he’d only ever referred to her as Doc.

“You don’t call me that.”

He chuckled, finally standing in front of her. She could hardly tell his eyes were green in the dim light from the bar and streetlights surrounding them. They looked darker in this light. “I just did.”

Jas eyed him suspiciously. “What do you want, Seresin?”

He might not call her by her name, but she had refused to use his callsign since day one. It was a stupid callsign, anyway.

He looked at her, his eyes raking over every inch of her body, and she wanted to tell him to stop. She wanted him to leave her alone, to let her think and breathe, and work on not being so affected by him.

His eyes returned to her face, his hands buried in the pockets of his uniform trousers. “How much have you had?”

She took a step forward. “You counting my drinks now?”

“No, but you’re wobbling.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Am not.”

He stepped forward and was suddenly so close she could feel his breath on her face. This was exactly like that moment after his physical when he’d left her gasping for air. Had he really done what he’d promised? Had he thought of her that night?

“You’re infuriating,” he said without an ounce of anger or frustration in that velvety voice.

“You’re one to talk,” Jas said, poking his chest. His eyes darted to her lips while he licked his own.

Before he could do anything, Jas turned around, swinging her hair a little more vigorously than strictly necessary. She felt it hit his face, making her grin.

“Where are you going?”

“Home,” she shouted back without turning to face him.

She heard the sound of his hurried footsteps to catch up with her. “How are you getting home?”

“Walking.”

“No,” Hangman said, touching her arm to stop her. The warmth of his hand set her entire body on fire, and she felt that feeling in her stomach again. “I’ll drive you.”

Jas glared at him. “It’s a 20-minute walk.”

“That makes it a five-minute drive,” he said, gently pulling her towards his car.

Jas didn’t put up nearly as much of a fight as she should have. “You’ve been drinking, too.”

He must’ve sensed her resolve to fight him evaporate because he let go of her arm. “I had one beer,” he told her. “I can drive.”

“Fine.” She got into his car, and he didn’t start it until she had buckled her seatbelt.

She told him her address and leaned back in the barely-touched leather seat. Of course, Hangman kept his car immaculate, and a very childish part of Jasmine wanted to do something to taint it.

Hangman kept both hands on the wheel, concentrating on getting out of the parking lot without hitting anything. He maneuvered smoothly, and Jas hated him a little more. Her own driving was questionable at best.

“What happened to redhead?”

Hangman glanced at her before turning his attention back to the road.

The smirk was back. “You jealous?”

“Of course,” she told him, watching as his jaw went slack. “She was smoking. Bet I could make her come faster than you.”

Jas watched his Adam’s apple bob as a specific mental image undoubtedly entered his mind. He shifted in his seat, clenched his perfect jaw, and grabbed the wheel just a little tighter.

“So,” she continued. “What happened to her?”

“Told her the lesson was over.”

Jas hummed. “Classic Seresin.”

He turned the car onto her street. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Leave them hanging,” she explained. “Isn’t that what you do in the air, too?”

He pulled up in front of her house, turning the car off. “I never leave a lady hanging.”

Jas snorted and unbuckled her seatbelt. She moved to get out of the car but furrowed her brows at the sound of Hangman getting out too. As she stood outside, the passenger side door still open, she rested her arms on the roof.

She glared at him. “What are you doing?”

That easy and cocky smile of pearly whites graced his face, and the low light of the street lamps made his eyes look darker again.

He closed his door. “Walking the lady to her front door,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He came around the front of the car to join her on the sidewalk. “My mother raised me to be a gentleman.”

“Then your mother must have a skewed idea of what a gentleman is,” Jas said as she closed the car door and set off towards the house. “Because that’s the last thing you are.”

She walked up the steps to her front door and heard the deck creak when he joined her. He leaned against the side of her house, the worn wood creaking as well, making Jas grimace. The house she rented was old and weather-worn, every inch of it shuddering at the slightest movement, but Jas loved it.

She didn’t know how long the Navy planned on punishing her, but after the first month and no end in sight, she decided to rent off base. Five months later, she was still happy that she did. One month in barracks was more than enough.

Jas searched for her keys in her bag, doing her best to ignore Hangman’s gaze fixed on her. He hadn’t yet argued with her on the comment about his mom.

“You lose your keys, Doc?”

She glared at him but finally closed her hand around the metal and pulled them out. She unlocked the door, opened it, but didn’t go inside.

Instead, she faced him. His stupid hair still perfectly in place, his jaw annoyingly strong, eyes glinting in a way that made Jas’ belly feel like molten glass. Warm and sticky. Liquid gold.

“Thank you for driving me home,” she said and found that she was sincere.

“Anytime, Doc.”

Jas didn’t know how she knew, but she could tell he was serious. The fire he evoked in her spread down her thighs, her shins, right down to her toes as she stood there, looking at his irritating face.

It was like he was sculpted by Gods.

“You’re infuriating,” he said, voice so low and sultry that Jas had to fight every instinct that wanted her to clench her thighs together.

“You’re one to talk.”

Later, when she replayed the night in her head, she didn’t know who leaned in first, but they clung to each other in a deep passionate kiss.

Hangman pushed her against the wooden doorframe, and it groaned at the force. He had her pinned against the wall as his hands explored her back, her waist, her hips. Jas licked into his mouth and wondered what else that tongue could be good for.

The groan that escaped him spurred her on, and she pulled him impossibly closer, and his hands found her ass as he pressed her further into the doorframe. She barely registered the wood digging into her back.

She could feel how much he wanted her, and fuck, she wanted him too. His hands left her ass, and she didn’t quite manage to stifle a whine at the loss of his touch. His hands found the hem of her shirt, and she felt the calloused fingertips graze her skin.

He broke the kiss, hooded, lust-filled eyes trained on hers. “Let me come in.”

Those four words sent ice through Jas’ veins, bringing her back to the present and what was happening on her front porch. She closed her eyes for a second, trying to gain her wits about her.

When she opened them again, she placed a palm on his firm chest before he could lean forward to capture her lips again.

“No.”

His brows shot up, eyes widening in surprise. “No?”

She shook her head slightly, a menacing smile on her kiss-swollen lips. “No,” she confirmed and tapped his cheek lightly. “But I’ll be thinking of you tonight.”

With that, she slipped inside her house and closed the door behind her, leaving a disoriented and very horny Hangman on her front porch.

“You’re infuriating!” He yelled from the other side. Jas leaned against the door, listening to his retreating footsteps. Her breathing was heavy and labored, and the fire burned through her so hot that she knew she would be thinking of him tonight.

❋❋❋

main taglist (let me know if you want to be added): @arrthurpendragon, @ocappreciationtag, @chrissymunson, @jvstjewels, @cas-verse, @chickensarentcheap, @asirensrage, @misskatiewrites, @stanshollaand, @eddiemunscns, @raith-way

top gun taglist (let me know if you want to be added): @anna-phora, @itsjustgracy, @eddie-munscns, @fantasias-creativebubble, @lostinwonderland314, @luckyladycreator2, @blue-aconite, @dempy, @alana4610

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lyn-js · 27 days

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Dancing under the Moonlight | Masterlist

Bradley Bradshaw x OC Reader (Nickname Honey)

Summary: After the Uranium Mission, Bradley Bradshaw decides he wants to settle down. Maybe even start a family at some point in time. But he felt so tired (and old) to be in the dating scene. That's until he sees a beautiful new bartender at The Hard Deck. Not only that; turns out she's Penny's niece, Beatrice. They both hit it off amazing, but for some reason, Beatrice isn't letting her walls down yet. But Bradley is going to get to the bottom of what Bea's big secret is.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, drinking, mentions of past abuse, fluff, eventually smut 18+, age gap (24 & 35)

Prologue

Chapter 1. Center Stage

Chapter 2.

Chapter 3.

Chapter 4.

Chapter 5.

comment if you want to be added to the taglist.

dividers are by @saradika

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #tgm fic #dagger squad #tgm oc #top gun maverick

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call-sign-shark · 1 year

Text

OC Moodboard || SHARK

"Let's cause a little trouble, I wanna contribute to the chaos."

♢ Playlist

♢ Want to know more?

#Top gun oc #top gun maverick #top gun maverick imagine #tgm oc #top gun maverick oc #maverick x oc #pete mitchell x oc #tgm fic #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick fandom #top gun maverick x reader #Pete mitchell x reader

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jackiequick · 2 months

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Headcanons for the Mitchell-Bradshaw kids (+ friends & family) because I can | Top Gun AU ✈️

Summary: What happens when you live with 4 little ducklings? Unforgettable memories!

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw & Jenny Mitchell

Characters included/mentioned: Dane Bradshaw, Austin Mitchell, Maverick, Slider, Iceman, Carole and etc

Note: Fluffy/ Top Gun Headcanon fic

1) Bradley and Austin used to volunteer at an Animal Shelter, full of puppies and full grown dogs if all breeds. One day, Slider’s kids wanted to adopt another dog but couldn’t since they already had 4 already so in result, they called Iceman to help them out and so in result he adopted the doggie.

But there was a catch, the Yorkie made so much more barking than expected and had so much darling energy, so Iceman had no choice but to call him—Maverick!! Let’s just say the real Maverick wasn’t the happiest person after hearing that and the kids laughed so loudly at his reaction

2) Speaking of dogs, Austin Mitchell may or may not have brought home in an panic a week later. Jenny was sending text messages on her laptop when he rushed in yelling, “Don’t tell Dad!”

She was confused and looked up, “What did you do?”

“I want you to know that I love you VERY much and you’re always welcome in my room for the bigger closest room.”

“Aussy, what happened? Did you break his motorcycle again?”

“No and for the 10th time that was Dane!”

He hoped the door for a puppy to walk in as his sister’s jaw dropped to the floor, hugging the fur ball to tackle her. He laughed at the moment and whistles as two more dogs came in grinning brightly.

“Sooo? What do we think?” He asked with a matching grin as the dogs, carrying the puppy.

“We ain’t NEVER telling Dad!” She repiled with a little giggle falling in love with the dogs.

—

3) As a kid, Dane really in awe of Ice's ability to flip pens like it was nothing and wants to be his student to learn the trick, begging for him to teach him one day after school. His mom brought him a small pack of pens and pencils to practice with for flipping tricks, eventually he gets the hang of it where he showcasing his tricks in class.

He thanked his Uncle Ice later on for showing him the trick, calling him cooler than Maverick jokingly and laughed running off to show his friends his new tricks

4) Speaking of Dane, is maths kid in school. History was never his strong suit but surprisingly, numbers came much more naturally to him. It resulted in the type of career he would have in the future.

His brother and siblings knew this fact very well, being able to be crafty where he can calculate prices of analysis for planes. As well as when needed he can calculate, like the the tax and measurement when it comes to paying for a restaurant bill.

It would surprise his mother as she would ask, “Not bad, sweetie. How did you do that so fast?”

In result he would hold up the pen and napkin he used to do the math then reply, “I counted.”

—

5) When it comes to certain things, Jenny is terrible at keeping secrets and wants to gossip, so she can be a little nosy at times (she gets better at it with age). Ice and her dad like to say, she got from their Aunt Carole, since Sunset was most likely the one to be hush hush about certain subjects.

When she was 5, and Bradley was 7, she knew he had a silly little crush on the babysitter cause she was so nice. So she told her auntie Carole who stayed gushing with her all about it, teasing her son about it

When she was 10, she heard all about uncle Slider becoming Commander after watching the adults talk about it and went running to her daddy to spill the news giggling with excitement. It was supposed to be a secret for a few short days but she couldn’t help herself.

When she was 16, she found out that Dane and Austin had a crush on the same girl or so she thought. She squeals so loudly, knowing that she would have to be quiet about it or else. Bradley even gave her an odd look.

But Jenny had other plans as she sneaked up on her brother and asked, “Sooo who’s the girl?”

“What girl? There is no girl!” Austin exclaimed playing video games on the computer.

“Oh my god it’s the senior!”

“How did y-no! I am not into a senior.”

“But I saw you talking about some girl name ‘Avery’…”

That’s when her brother snorted, “No, Avery Thompson is the senior leader of the drama club. I’m into Avery Rodriguez, he’s on the basketball team.”

Her eyes widen and gasps, “HIM?! Damn, you got good taste!”

—

6) Jenny had a small crush on Bradley when they were kids, jokingly saying ‘You are my boyfriend.’ when she was 7 but let it go a while later. Especially since fictional boys existed on Tv duh! However, Bradley thought girls had cooties and said, ‘Gross!’

As early high school rolled around, Jenny was watching Disney Channel movies and texting her friends as she watched the boys play guitar and drums in the center of the garage. Austin, Dane and Bradley were jamming out in their band laughing and singing covers.

Tracy and Rachel, Jenny’s friends, walked into the garage jamming out to the songs as she greeted her with a hug. They were chatting and gossiping about the latest movies, along with newest episodes of Gossip Girl.

“Can you believe Blair said that to Serena?! That was uncalled for!” Tracy exclaimed as they sat on the bench, sipping water bottles.

“I know right?! But Serena had a point though.” Jenny yelled, chuckling.

“Blair was better.” Rachel added for a debating measure, “But I love Serena too.”

Bradley was tuning his guitar but paused to look at the girls with a loopy smile, stuck in a mini trance.

That’s when Austin threw an empty water bottle at his head and yelled, “Dude! Stop staring that’s my sister.”

Dane laughed at his brother’s face, waving at Tracy, Rachel and Jenny who giggled. Bradley just glared at Austin as he stuck out his tongue muttering a few things.

~~~~

I know this is random but I wanted to do it for fun. If you want to reblog with HCs or ideas you have for Top Gun universe, feel free to do so! ;)

Remember to like, comment and share for more in the future. Let me know what you think!

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @starkleila @missstrawbs2001 @gcthvile @mandylove1000 @rooster-84 @cherrysft @degenbrat @hardballoonlove @queenslandlover-93 @djs8891 @theloveoftoms @topgun-imagines @simplyscorpio @roostersforevergirl and etc

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bratshaws · 29 days

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through the hourglass 378. brb x oc

a/n: BABY BOOOOOOOY(comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: just some suggestive stuff uwu

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

/316/317/318/319/320/321/322/323/324/325/326/327/328/329/330/331/332/333/334/335/336/337/338/339/340/341/342/343/344/345/346/347/348/349/350/351/352/353/354/355/356/357/358/359/360/361/362/363/364/365/366

/367/368/369/370/371/372/373/374/375/376/377

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @novastories @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix @lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2

@emilybradshaw @louisahale @leobabbyyy @booklover2sblog @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

@caitsymichelle13 @becks-things @caatheeriinee07 @fanboyswhore9 @jesfreedark @katiemcrae @lilmonstrjedi @hobiismyhopeu @teacupsandtopgun @insominac23 @gh0stsgoodgirl @mygyn @chavivaelisheva @kmc1989 @enchantingharmonyalpaca @callsign-magnolia @mrsbradshaw01

“You know.”

“Hm?”

“Your office is pretty nice.”

He smirks lazily, nuzzling her brown tresses before kissing her head. The two were still in there, partially clothed,coming down from their high, sitting on his chair, enjoying the silence. Honestly, she was surprised the two of them stayed, she half expected him to pick her up and carry her out but apparently her husband wanted to live dangerously, “I’m glad you approve of it.”

Beatrice snuggled closer into Rooster's embrace, feeling a sense of contentment wash over her. She traced lazy circles on his chest, her fingers dancing lightly over his skin as they enjoyed the quiet intimacy of the moment. “Nevermind its in a Naval base.”

Rooster chuckled softly, the sound reverberating through his chest as he held Beatrice close. "Yeah, I guess it's not your typical romantic getaway," he admitted, his voice tinged with amusement. "But it's our getaway, and that's all that matters."

Beatrice smiled up at Rooster, her eyes sparkling with love. "That's all that matters," she echoed, her voice soft and filled with affection.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, basking in each other's presence and the warmth of their love. The only sound in the room was the soft hum of the air conditioning, and the wind outside.

"Roos," she began, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest, "Do you ever think about... the future?"

Rooster's expression softened at Beatrice's question, his gaze turning thoughtful. "All the time," he admitted, his voice quiet. "I think about where we'll be in five, ten, twenty years from now. I think about our kids, and our future together."

"What do you see?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rooster's smile widened, "I see...us," he replied, his voice filled with certainty. "I see us growing old together, watching our kids grow up and start families of their own, if they want to. I see us traveling the world, experiencing new adventures together. I see us happy, content, and more in love than ever."

Beatrice felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, overcome with emotion at Rooster's words. "That sounds perfect," she whispered, “I think you’ll look great with graying hair.” he arches his brow in response, “In a silver fox type of way.”

"I'll hold you to that," he replied, his voice tinged with amusement. "And I think you'll look stunning with a few gray hairs of your own."

Beatrice rolled her eyes playfully, swatting him on the chest. "Flattery will get you nowhere," she teased, her voice filled with laughter.

Rooster leaned in closer, his lips brushing against Beatrice's ear. "Oh, I don't know about that," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "I think it's gotten me pretty far already."

Beatrice felt a shiver run down her spine at Rooster's words, her cheeks flushing pink as she leaned into his touch. "You are relentless.”

Rooster grinned, his eyes sparkling. "Only for you, gorgeous," he replied, "Only for you."

After a while, Beatrice spoke up again, her voice quiet. "Roos," she began, her fingers ceasing tracing patterns on his chest, "Do you think we should uh…” she pauses, “...go home now? It is…pretty late and we’re here,when we…shouldn’t be?”

Rooster's smile softened at Beatrice's question, his eyes filled with warmth as he looked at her. "You're right," he admitted, his voice gentle. "We probably should head home before someone notices we're here."

Beatrice nodded in agreement, feeling a pang of guilt at the thought of getting caught. "I don't want to cause any trouble," she murmured, “You know, for you…”

Rooster reached out to cup Beatrice's cheek, his touch gentle. "Hey, it's okay," he murmured, his voice filled with comfort. "We'll just slip out quietly and no one will be the wiser."

Beatrice smiled up at Rooster, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "...you know.” she begins as he hands her her dress, “You mentioned wanting to do this since we started dating.”

“Mhm.”

“What else did you plan?” she says as she pulls her panties up her legs, “Because we did come here once before we got married, and now we’re here after we got married and you are promoted…care to elaborate, LC?”

Rooster grinned mischievously at Beatrice's question, "Well, I do have a few more surprises up my sleeve," he admitted, his voice low and teasing. "But you'll just have to wait and see."

Beatrice raised an eyebrow at Rooster's cryptic response, her curiosity piqued. "Oh, really?" she replied,snapping the elastic over her hips. "And what might those surprises be, LC?"

Rooster hummed softly, leaning in closer to whisper in Beatrice's ear. "If I told you, they wouldn't be surprises anymore," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. "But I can promise you one thing: they'll be so worth the wait."

Beatrice felt a shiver run down her spine at Rooster's words, her heart racing like a horse. "I can't wait," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I love surprises."

Rooster grinned at Beatrice's enthusiasm, his eyes shining with affection. "I know you do," he replied, his voice filled with warmth. "And I can't wait to see the look on your face when you see what I have planned." and he slaps her bare ass enough to make her jump.

With that, and once both were completely dressed,Rooster took Beatrice's hand in his and led her out of the office, careful to avoid any prying eyes as they made their way through the base. “I still have no idea how you pulled this off.” she whispered, letting him guide her in the darkened hallways, “Did I mention I love how crazy you can be sometimes?”

Rooster chuckled softly, squeezing Beatrice's hand as they walked. "I'm just full of surprises, I guess," he replied,pecking her forehead. "And I'll take that as a compliment, thank you."

Beatrice smiled up at Rooster, her heart overflowing with love for him. "You're welcome," she replied, her voice warm and affectionate. "Also…doesn’t anyone…you know, wander around? Guards or something,” he takes her to another hallway, “That you know…guard the base?”

"Don't worry, gorgeous," he reassured her, "I know this base like the back of my hand. I'll make sure we don't run into any guards."

Beatrice nodded, çaughing nervously. "Good to know," she replied, letting him lead them along. "I'd hate to get caught sneaking around like a couple of teenagers."

Rooster chuckled softly, pulling Beatrice closer as they continued down the hallway. "Trust me," he murmured, "We'll be fine. Just stick close to me and follow my lead."

Beatrice smiled up at Rooster, her heart swelling with love for him. "I always do," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rooster's smile softened at Beatrice's words, his eyes shining with affection. "And I'm grateful for that," he replied, “Come on, the Bronco is close.”

“We parked it a few steps outside the base Roos, so no one would know we’re here.”

“Damn right, and no one will.” With that, Rooster pushed open the door to the base, the cool night air washing over them as they stepped outside. Beatrice followed closely behind him, her heart pounding in her chest as they made their way towards the outside.

As they reached the Bronco, Rooster unlocked the doors and helped Beatrice into the passenger seat. He slid into the driver's seat beside her, a grin plastered across his face.

"Mission accomplished," he said proudly, turning the key in the ignition and starting the engine. "Now, let's get out of here before anyone notices we're even here.”

She leans back, sinking on the seat, “Jesus that was intense,” her cheeks heat up, “I-I mean, all of it, but right now–now it was um…more,kind of,a bit.” she covers her face, “You are making me flustered!”

“Me?” he smirks, turning the engine on, “Well,sorry about that, gorgeous," he replied, his finally driving away from there. "I can't help it if you find me irresistible."

Beatrice peeked out from behind her hands, her cheeks still flushed pink. "Oh, please," she teased, her voice tinged with laughter. "You're just lucky I find your antics endearing."

Rooster grinned at Beatrice's response, feeling a rush of warmth flood his chest. "I'll take what I can get," he replied, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "Although, you know, that’s not what you called me after we were done–”

“Rooster.”

He chuckles like he just discovered the greatest way to make his wife blush even more, “You are just too precious.” he says, “Now, let’s all breathe because we gotta sleep so we can bring the kids home from your parents’ tomorrow.”

Beatrice nodded, her cheeks still flushed with embarrassment. "Right, of course," she replied,fanning herself a bit "We should get some rest before we have to pick up the kids."

Rooster nodded in agreement, his smile softening as he looked at Beatrice. "I'll drive us home," he offered, "You just relax and enjoy the ride."

Beatrice smiled gratefully at Rooster, feeling a wave of affection wash over her. "Thank you," she said sincerely, "That sounds lovely. I am pretty tired." she shifted her gaze towards him, “I wonder why.”

Rooster just smirked as he pulled out of the base and onto the deserted road, the Bronco humming softly as it glided along the pavement. Beatrice leaned back in her seat, her mind still reeling from the events of the evening.

She glanced over at him, her heart swelling with love for the man beside her. Not helping the warm smile on her face.Rooster caught her gaze and smiled, his eyes twinkling with affection. "What are you thinking about?" he asked softly, his voice filled with curiosity.

Beatrice smiled back at Rooster, her heart fluttering in her chest. "Just how lucky I am to have you," she replied honestly, her voice tinged with an amount of emotion. "You always know how to make me feel…loved and cherished."

“I feel the same way about you," he murmured, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "You're my everything, Beatrice. I don't know what I'd do without you."

‘No I know but…you always…made me feel like that.” Beatrice felt tears prick at her eyes as she looked at Rooster, her heart overflowing with love for him. "I love you," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "More than anything in this world."

Rooster leaned over and pressed a tender kiss to Beatrice's lips, "I love you too," he “Loving you is my favorite thing in the world.”

“Favorite thing?”

“Yes ma’am.” he smiles, focusing on the road, “You are easy to love.”

Luckily, they pulled up to their house before she could blink - or maybe she napped a bit, she didn’t know-, the warm glow of the porch light welcomed them home. Rooster parked the Bronco and turned off the engine, turning to face Beatrice with a soft smile.

"We're home," he murmured, reaching over to take her hand in his. "And I couldn't be happier to be here with you."

Beatrice smiled back at Rooster, her heart swelling with love. "Me too," she replied, her voice filled with warmth. "Ughhh…I think you’ll have to carry me inside.”

Rooster chuckled at Beatrice's request, dipping his head in reverence. "Of course, baby," he replied, his voice laced with affection. "Anything for you."

He climbed out of the Bronco and hurried around to Beatrice's side, opening the door for her and offering her his hand. Beatrice accepted his help graciously, allowing him to assist her out of the car and into his arms.

Rooster lifted Beatrice effortlessly, cradling her close to his chest as he carried her towards the front door. Beatrice wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head against his shoulder as they approached the porch, giggling like a school girl.

Rooster pushed open the front door with his foot, balancing Beatrice in his arms as he stepped inside. The warmth of the house enveloped them, and soon enough the three massive dogs came rushing and tumbling over each other to greet them, “Woah,okay,okay,” he shuts the door with his foot, “Precious cargo here,guys,calm down a bit.”

Beatrice giggled as their dogs swarmed around them, their tails wagging furiously as they licked Rooster's face and nuzzled against Beatrice's legs. "Looks like they missed us," she teased, reaching down to pet them lovingly.

Rooster chuckled, gently setting Beatrice down on her feet as he crouched down to give the dogs some attention. "They definitely did," he replied, scratching behind their ears as they nuzzled against him. "But I think they missed you more."

Beatrice smiled, feeling a rush of warmth flood her chest. "I missed them too," she admitted, running her fingers through their fur. "Big babies.”

Rooster nodded in agreement, his smile softening as he looked at Beatrice. "They sure are," he murmured, "And so are you."

“A big baby?”

“A baby. Mine.” he smirks, then inhales, ‘...I think we should sleep.”Rooster wrapped an arm around Beatrice's waist, pulling her close as they made their way into the stairs. The warm Beatrice smiled up at Rooster, her heart overflowing with love for him. "I agree," she replied, snuggling closer to him. “Carry me up the stairs?”

He smirks, pressing a kiss to her temple, “You bet.”

#im happy yall are still here #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x named reader #tgm oc #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction

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novastories · 11 months

Text

By Your Side

Title and chapter loosely inspired by the song “By Your Side” by Conor Maynard.

Summary: A beach day is just what Aurora needed, especially surrounded by family and friends.

Warnings: None, mostly fluff.

Word Count: 4k

A/N: I’m sorry I’ve been a bit MIA lately! I’ve been prepping for new upcoming works and writing when I feel inspired. Please enjoy the beach scene chapter!

Also thank you so much for the recent love on “I’ll Be Waiting.” It means the world to me that people love my story and are invested in it like I am! Enjoy the fluff because the next chapters…well let’s just say, it’s not going to be as fluffy after this one…🫣

Thank you Jenn, for doing the text messages! 💖 And shoutout to my best friend, beta reader, and editor @reginleight 💜

As always, likes are great and all, but comments, reblogs, and feedback are highly appreciated and loved! 🤭

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Lucille → Aurora

—

“Wait, so you two almost kissed?!” Lucille shouted, almost spilling her coffee on the couch.

Aurora blushes and nods as she continues eating her donut while her friend gasped in shock.

“Wow, didn’t know Chicken Little had it in him.”

“Lucille,” Aurora groans.

“Sorry. But holy crap. Didn’t know he had it in him.”

Aurora sighs, as she finishes her donut and takes a swig of her tea that she had on the coffee table. She couldn’t stop thinking about it and had wished so badly that Peyton hadn't interrupted them that night.

But was she ready to be with Bradley? She wasn’t sure. She had so much to still work on, the nightmares were slowly getting less and less frequent, but the anxiety still hovered over her.

Lucille was rambling on about how she was going to talk to Peyton about the cockblock until noticing Aurora was tapping her fingers against her bracelet.

“Hey, you alright?”

Aurora shakes out of her thoughts. “Huh?”

“You only play with your bracelet when you’re overthinking shit.” Lucille gestures to the bracelet.

She was worried about her best friend and while maybe they didn’t see each other much, Aurora was still Lucille’s best friend. Despite the distance.

Aurora smiles slightly. “I’m fine. Just work stuff,” she lies through her teeth.

She didn’t want to lie to her best friend, but she would tell her when the time was right. Lucille just nods, and takes a sip of her coffee when they both hear a ping from Aurora’s phone.

Penny → Aurora

“Got a bathing suit?” Aurora asks Lucille to which she received a smirk in return.

“What do you have in mind?”

—

Aurora knew as soon as her mom texted her, that she was up to something. She, Lucille, and CJ arrived at the beach seeing her mom sitting on a table behind the Hard Deck.

What she didn’t expect to see were a bunch of the same pilots she had met about a week ago to be playing what seemed to be dogfight football, something her dad, Uncle Goose, and Uncle Ice came up with during Aurora’s childhood years.

“Helping with balancing sheets?” Aurora looks at her mom, incredulously.

Penny chuckles. “You came, didn't you?”

Sighing, she shakes her head. Aurora soon spots Amelia, Aunt Carole, Aunt Sarah, and Uncle Ice sitting under a big pop up beach canopy they most likely had set up a few ways from the water, but in prime viewing spot of the San Diego view, and the pilots as well.

“So this is what dad meant by a surprise for the naval aviators?”

“Well, apparently he needed them to become a team and bond a bit. So I guess this was his way of getting them out of the cockpit and to have fun,” Penny answers her.

“I’m having fun just watching them,” Lucille muses.

Aurora nudges Lucille, while Penny laughs, agreeing with the entertainment of the game and the view. She notices that Maverick had also dragged Peyton along as well.

Despite the fact that he’s a mechanic, he recognized Peyton as still part of the team and that he got along with mostly everyone on the squadron.

Amelia spots them, waving for her and Lucille to come over.

“Are you going to actually hangout on the beach though?” Aurora asks her mom.

“Yeah, I’m just going to finish this paperwork first. You go on ahead.”

Aurora’s feet soon touch the sand, and she releases CJ from his leash. He happily runs over to Amelia as Amelia chuckles claiming that CJ liked her better.

Aurora and Lucille all say their hellos, while Aurora puts her towel next to Amelia, Lucille doing the same. She soon realizes the person sitting next to her Uncle Ice.

“Hey, Slider! You’re here too!”

“Hey kiddo! Heard about the mission, I had to come see these new pilots. Can’t be better than us Ice, right?” Slider smiles at the man beside him.

Ice just shakes his head and chuckles. He was not ready to get into that.

“What’s up, burger man?” Lucille waves at him. Aurora chuckles as Slider rolls his eyes at the girl.

“That’s not what my callsign means.”

“So what does it mean then?” Lucille wonders.

“Ignore her. Jet lag is getting to her,” Aurora interrupts her best friend.

“Bitch, I drove here.”

“Shush! I’m trying to concentrate,�� Amelia shakes her book that she was holding.

“Melia, you’re not even looking at the book,” Carole points out, as neither of the girls were not even listening to her anymore.

Amelia, Aurora, and Lucille all look at the pilots, and wow did Aurora realize how much of a view they were treated to. Everyone was pretty much shirtless, with the exception of the girls. Plus Bob and Uncle Goose.

It seemed that Bradley’s team made a touchdown, so Bradley was doing a little shimmy celebration dance, a move Aurora was not a stranger to. It was a move he pulled often whenever they danced together.

She couldn’t help but to stare shamelessly at her best friend, his abs on full display. She was wondering how he was even so tan since most of his days were spent on an aircraft carrier. Aurora wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that she was full on ogling at Bradley, not even caring.

Man, was she glad she had her sunglasses on, but it didn’t help that she was turning red from all the thoughts in her head.

“Girl, show him what he’s missing and get over there,” Lucille encourages Aurora, drawing her out of her thoughts.

“Yeah, Aurie. He doesn’t even know you’re here yet,” Amelia smirks, knowing Bradley would be ecstatic to see Aurora.

The pilots still had yet to even notice the newcomers, as they were focused on their game. Aurora took that as her sign to make her presence known.

With her Benjamin-Mitchell confidence, she stands up and removes her shirt to reveal her black one piece full coverage bathing suit. It covered her back and half her arm, so her scars weren’t on full display, yet she was able to show off her figure.

Lucille and Amelia wolf whistles as Aurora does this and walks over to the group playing.

The first to spot her was Uncle Goose, who was not shocked to see her there.

“Hey, little star!”

The naval aviators looked at him confused and turned to see what he was looking at. Aurora smiles and waves at her Uncle.

“Damn, is that Artemis?” Fanboy asks.

Bradley instantly spots Aurora and freezes.

Sure, the two of them grew up with each other and Aurora had worn bathing suits around him, but seeing her now was different.

She was grown, and she looked like a goddess to Bradley, he couldn’t help but stare at her and feel some sort of way. Aurora always had that effect on him.

Her dark brown hair with her faded blonde tips was tied up in a ponytail, and she had her sunglasses on covering her eyes, but Bradley knew she already was looking at him.

He smiles and is the first to run up to her a few feet away from the group, hoping to get a bit of time with her before she approaches everyone else.

“Her and Bradshaw?” Payback asks Peyton, as they all watched him run to the girl.

“Not yet, but soon.” Peyton smiles.

“If Rooster ever gets off his little perch,” Jake comes up behind Peyton.

“At least he can talk about his feelings,” Peyton snarks back at him.

He had refused to look Jake in the eyes after what had gone down in Jake’s apartment.

Of course he had his fair share looking at Hangman’s abs, but he refused to give into wanting to jump Jake’s bones and stuck to trying to avoid him.

“Princess, you didn’t tell me you were coming,” Bradley smirks at her.

“Didn’t even know you were here,” Aurora grins back.

“And looks like someone forgot their swimsuit,” she points out, seeing that he was wearing jean shorts. “You should have told me, I could have brought the ones with the little chickens on them.”

She glances at his sweaty chest, and notices not only his dog tags, but also the necklace that she had given to him for Christmas, a plane pendant.

She smiles at it remembering what was engraved on it, as well as the memory of giving it to him before her eyes found their way back to Bradley’s.

“Tsk, you’d love to see me in those, wouldn’t you?” Bradley rasps, while stepping closely to Aurora, and tucking a piece of loose hair behind her ear.

She could practically feel his body heat from where she stood as they were flirting, her heart beating so fast wanting to just reach over and kiss the hell out of him.

“Heads up!” a voice calls out, and a few seconds later, a football hits Bradley’s head.

“Ow, what the fuck?” Bradley cries out as he and Aurora turn to see who threw the football.

Maverick stands with a “sorry, not sorry” look on his face, and Goose hits Maverick on the back of the head for interrupting their moment.

Aurora chuckles at her dad’s antics, her face still a bit red from her interaction with Bradley while he rubs the back of his head.

“C’mon, I want to kick your ass,” Aurora grins as she walks towards the group.

“Oh, you think you can beat me?”

“I’m pretty sure I proved I could when I beat you that one summer.”

“That was one time, and I had a broken wrist!”

“Excuses, excuses, Bradshaw!”

—

The football game definitely proved to help the team actually feel like a team. Soon everyone wasn’t keeping score and just having fun.

Aurora had joined the team that was against Bradley and Peyton and she bonded with Natasha enough to get her to take them down.

Peyton and Jake were still trying to avoid each other as much as they could, but at least they could look each other in the eyes.

Amelia had joined in on the fun by standing next to Hondo and helping call out penalties, she got so into her role she even had a whistle that Hondo gave as an extra he had.

Penny had opened the Hard Deck for the pilots and the rest of the family a few hours before the bar opened to the public so they could enjoy the cool, crisp, air conditioning.

Carole had brought a bunch of sandwiches, where Sarah had made sure to bring snacks and of course, Penny provided the drinks.

All the other pilots were a bit intimidated with having Admiral Kazansky in their presence, but soon got used to it as they saw how he was letting loose, just as Maverick and Goose were.

The jukebox was blasting out tunes of all kinds, creating a fun relaxing atmosphere in the bar for everyone to enjoy.

Aurora was in the corner, playing darts with her Uncle Goose, Jake, and Javy. She was laughing as Javy botched his shot.

“Dude, why’d I even pick you as my partner?” Jake shakes his head.

“Shut up,” Coyote hisses.

“And that’s how you do it!” Aurora smirks, making a bullseye.

“I taught you well, little star,” Goose proudly says.

Lucille happened to somehow get sucked into a heated discussion with Mickey and Bob.

“Okay, but Game of Thrones is so much better than Lord of the Rings!” Mickey proclaims.

“You take that back! Bob, back me up here!” Lucille turns to him.

“Uhh, I haven’t seen all of Game of Thrones–”

“HA!” Lucille smirks

“–Or all of Lord of the Rings.”

“What the hell?!” Both Lucille and Mickey look at Bob, as if he had committed treason.

CJ happily laid next to Carole’s feet, who was sitting on the bar stools with Sarah and Penny. All of them were sitting and talking, while Maverick, Iceman, and Slider sat in the corner of the bar observing the other pilots while drinking beer.

“We weren’t like this when we were their age, right?” Slider ponders. They were watching all the pilots in the bar, seeing them out of the cockpit was definitely a sight to see.

“I think we were so much worse,” Maverick chuckles, as he takes a swig of his beer.

Peyton, Natasha, Reuben, and Bradley were playing pool, but also trying to teach Amelia which wasn’t going so well.

“Amelia, you’re supposed to hit the balls with the stick, not try to stab it with the stick.” Bradley sighs.

“Why not stab, stabbing seems so much better and efficient?”

“I can’t tell if you’re more like your sister with the stabbing comment, or Peyton with that stupid comment,” Payback wonders.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Peyton looks at him offended.

Natasha sighs and mutters how she’s surrounded by too much testosterone.

Aurora and Goose high five, as they won the game of darts against Jake and Javy.

“How the hell did that just happen?”

“Don’t underestimate me, Javy. That’s why I always bring a knife to a gunfight,” Aurora smiles triumphantly.

“You do what now?” Goose looks at her concerned.

Aurora chuckles as Jake and Javy start to bicker about their loss and whose fault it was.

Goose pats her shoulder to head over to the men, while Aurora goes to the pool table to see how the game is going. Amelia sat on the bar stool, with a pout on her face.

“Why the long face, little sis?” Aurora questions her sister.

“They wouldn’t let me play.”

“She tried to stab the balls with the stick,” Peyton calls out as he takes his shot at the pool table.

“It’s much more effective that way to get the balls in the pocket!” Amelia reasons.

“No, it really isn’t,” Bradley comes up and ruffles Amelia’s hair. She hisses and swats his hands away from her. He chuckles before standing in front of Aurora.

“Finished up at darts?”

“Oh yeah, finally put Hangman in his place and pulled one over on him.”

He chuckles, and leans in toward Aurora’s ear.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers, before pecking her cheek and heading back to the pool table for his turn.

Aurora immediately turned red, feeling as if her heart was going to burst by how fast it was beating.

Holy crap, that was one of the hottest things she had heard from his mouth.

Lucille comes up with a drink in each hand, going to hand one over to Aurora before seeing her best friend stunned and blushing.

“What’s up with her?”

“Bradley whispered something into her ear and now she’s too stunned to speak,” Amelia responds, taking a drink of her respective non-alcoholic drink.

“Ahh.”

“Shut up, both of you please,” Aurora pleads, as Lucille hands her the drink before taking the seat beside her friend.

Aurora glances at Bradley who was standing behind Peyton taking his shot at the pool table. Noticing her eyes were on him he winks at her, to which she rolls her eyes and sips her drink.

He will be the death of her.

—

The Hard Deck was now lively as it was open to everyone and some of the naval aviators were still there, with the exception of the older ones.

Since it was Penny’s day off from the Hard Deck, she and Maverick went for a motorcycle ride where Sarah and Ice went to drop off Slider at the airport. Goose and Carole decided to head home for the night, as they were still a bit jet lagged from their trip.

Amelia was hanging out with the other pilots while Aurora was sitting outside on one of the tables, getting a bit of air as the Hard Deck was beginning to get a little claustrophobic. CJ sat next to her as she combs her hands through his fur.

“Wondered where you were, surprised you weren’t with Bradshaw in there.”

Aurora turns and sees Jake standing behind her. He held out a water bottle for her to take, which she does. She gestures on the other side of CJ for Jake to sit.

“Yeah, well you know me. I needed air.”

Jake hums, taking a swig from his beer. They both sat in silence before Aurora broke it.

“I’m still a bit mad after that whole shit you pulled you know.”

Jake sighs. “I know, and I’m so sorry, Rory. I even apologized to Rooster before the game today.”

“And I wish that was all I was mad about, Jake. I’m talking about you and Peyton,” Aurora admits and turns to Jake.

Jake puts his hand to his face. “Fuck, I really messed up, didin’t I?”

Aurora brings her arm out to pat Jake’s shoulder in comfort.

“A bit, but that doesn’t mean you can’t fix it.”

“Fix what? I screwed up Ro, he could barely look me in the eye. I don’t even know why he came today when he wasn’t even required to.”

“Don’t you see, Jake? Peyton cares so much about you, and if you could only hear him out, you’d understand that you also feel the same way about him.”

“But what happens if we break up, what happens if the love we feel for each other only leads to hate and destruction?”

Aurora looks at Jake. “Put your pride aside for once and just listen to what I have to say. Don’t keep pushing him away, or using him for sex because it makes you feel good. We don’t have a lot of time in this world. Sometimes love can hurt, but I think it’s better to love than not love at all.”

Jake removes his hand from his face and looks at Aurora.

“You’re not alone anymore, Jake. You have me now. And Coyote and Peyton. Maybe even Rooster and the rest of the squadron. Let us be here for you,” Aurora smiles at him.

There were tears forming in Jake’s eyes before he pulled Aurora into a brotherly hug. She pats him comfortingly on the back letting him hug it out before he releases her. CJ yaps at him, to which Jake gives him a few pets.

“Damn, who knew you had all those words in you, Artemis.”

Aurora chuckles and smiles. “Therapy will do that to you I guess.”

Jake studies her for a bit. “No more nightmares?”

“Not as often, it still lingers. I’m taking it day by day. But now that I’m home, I feel a lot better,” Aurora turns to see her brother, sister, best friend, and Bradley through the glass doors of Hard Deck. Jake was sure she meant home as in Bradley and her family, and not San Diego.

Bradley spots her, waving with a smile, before going back to listening to what Amelia was saying.

“You and Rooster talk yet?”

“Not yet, soon though. When the timing is right.”

—

“Hey, mom! We’re back home!” Amelia hollers inside the house.

“I thought you were staying at Aurora’s and Peyton’s?” Penny's muffled voice was heard.

“She was, but she said she wanted to come home, so we’ve come to drop her off,” Peyton calls out.

“Peyton, Aurora? Why are you both here?”

“Bradley and Lucille took CJ home in the Bronco. Peyton couldn’t drive because he drank quite a bit so I drove Amelia home,” Aurora explains.

“I only drank a little bit.”

“Peyton, you didn’t want to stay in the car because you thought that the neighbors were looking at you funny.”

“They were!” Peyton claims.

“That was their cat on the porch,” Amelia groans.

“Have you had dinner already?” Penny interrupts the conversation, while it sounds like she was fumbling with something upstairs.

“Not yet,” Amelia tells her.

“Grabbing takeout for us tonight, so don’t worry about us mom!” Aurora assures her.

“I’ll make something for us then, Amelia. I’ll be down in a second.” More bumping and shuffling was heard, which worried Aurora quite a bit.

“Does mom seem flustered to you?” Aurora wonders.

Amelia and Peyton shrug as Aurora grabs some water from the fridge. She closes the fridge door, only to see something drop outside from the window from her peripheral vision.

And then soon a person drops outside as well.

The person stands up, and soon Aurora, Amelia, and Peyton are faced to see Maverick staring right into the window, huffing from the fall he had just gone through.

“Am I still drunk, or did dad fall from the sky?”

Aurora elbows Peyton, to which he exaggerates and falls down from the gesture.

Amelia looks at him with a serious look. “Just don’t break her heart again.”

Maverick slightly nods and looks at Aurora and Peyton, who had stood back up.

Peyton gives his dad a thumbs up, still slightly drunk and not understanding what was happening. Aurora just sighs and smiles at him.

“Don’t screw it up this time, dad.”

Maverick nods, before silently and quickly waving goodbye to them and getting on his bike. Aurora lets out a breath and looks at her siblings.

“Damn, I owe Bradley $20.”

- - -

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—

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ladyelissarose · 2 years

Text

‘A Heart With Wings’

Warnings: mentions of fist-fighting, some angst.. this chapter mostly covers who the OC is in this story. Enjoy!

LT: Lieutenant, SGT: Sargent

Chapter 1

August 10th

The sun was beaming through the clouds that were trying to conquer the skies as it was a little overcast. The weather was just fine in the July, summer day. Constantine ‘Connie’ Rose Oceans, was taking in the day as the breeze hit against her 5’11 self softly and comfortingly, but she was still feeling a little anxious, as she stood on the deck of the USS Enterprise, waiting for her instructor to come and give her her orders. Her hazel-green eyes squinted as they tried to make out how far the ocean went, they were literally in the middle of the Pacific, so it was a lot of ocean. But she had grown used to seeing blue everywhere, from the sky to the waters, she was surprised that seeing so much blue didn’t change her color like it did to the poor Statue of Liberty. Anyways, this was going to be 20 months sense she was first enlisted as an Aviation Mechanist for the Navy. Training and studying for her career 8 weeks went super well for her, Oceans had the brains and dedication towards perfection making her slip in easily. Sometimes she had to slow down so she could let her classmates catch up to her potential, so amongst them, it made her the least favorite out of all of them.

They didn’t like seeing her soar above them with excellence, but it wasn’t her fault, she just succeeded that way. Plus, everything done in the Navy to be on top came with competition, and Oceans thrived off of competition, but she only competed with herself, refusing to add anyone on that list that could make her go down to 2nd place. Oceans always quoted to herself, ‘I’ve got nothing to lose, so why not give and do the best?’

The sun finally beat the cloud race and began to shine upon Oceans skin, her freckled face would surely looked a little tan after this, that morning in particular she forgot to put on her stored sunscreen. But her mind was thrown off her current thoughts when she heard slow but continuous footsteps approaching her, then a voice that called out to her by last name and rank,

“Officer Oceans.”

Oceans saluted her instructor that came into appearance, he stood tall but met her height, and saluted back before saying in a calmed tone,

“I’m proud to say your work in the past projects have pulled off swiftly. Your personal trainer has brought it up to my attention that you are a great listener and are capable of taking the next step, Officer.”

He raised his brow at the words ‘next step’, emphasizing it was something more than she had ever done. Making her cock her head a little to the side as she asked curiously,

“And what would that be Lieutenant?”

“Come here and let me show you.”

Oceans watched her LT (Lieutenant) begin to walk forward towards the part of the deck that reached the other side of the carrier, which was in front of the aircraft carrier, where all the jets rested peacefully. She followed suit right on his tail as he led the way for her as he held up his previous conversation,

“Oceans I was looking through your file the other day, and it says you have a license to fly and how you took the test for Top Gun and graduated.. is that correct?”

Oceans jogged a couple of steps so she could be right next to him as she answered him in a as-in-matter-of-fact way,

“I do sir, I actually have a license to fly anything. I graduated for Top Gun.”

The LT huffed slightly as he questioned her,

“Why didn’t you stay in Top Gun then, you scored perfectly and were the top in your class? Your eye visuals are perfect for flying.”

With a slight shrug Oceans replied attempting to deviate the LT from asking her more questions about her reason why she didn’t choose that path,

“I felt like I’d be better for a Mechanist.. been doing things as such ever sense my father opened a shop when I was a little girl. He thought me all about motors and wires. So I chose to proceed with such. I only took the Aviation Test in Top Gun for fun really, I didn’t know that I would pass with such a score.”

The LT scoffed a laugh,

“For fun? You’re something else kid. Anyways Oceans, let’s stick to the asset, yes?”

“Lead me on.”

Oceans spent 3 hours of her afternoon with her LT as he showed her around the aircraft deck where all the precious Jets rested. He had Oceans in a daze with all the new information he gave her, and was willing to offer a deal.

“With all I’ve told and showed you, I think you should try it out.. test out the engines you fix and work on. You know how to fix and build one, then you’d certainly know how to fly one and how to push it to the limits you know it has. I’m willing to hire your salary for it. You’d be one of the very few people that can do both. I’ll give you 2 weeks to think about it. But as I said, we’ll raise your salary, but it’ll be a lot more work-“

“Because I’m doing two jobs at the same time.”

The LT paused to look at Oceans with a smile as he said,

“Exactly Officer Oceans. Two weeks tops, if you have your answer, come see me and the Admiral in the office. Then we’ll discuss everything for you.’

‘Thank you sir, I appreciate the offer.’

‘No need to thank me, thank yourself.’

9 months later. Present time... May 22nd

The deal the LT had made with Oceans was pulled through when she decided the two weeks later that she’d take it. 9 long months had past as she worked on the USS Enterprise (CVN-65). Few days here and there she would fly the Jets she fixed, to see if they worked properly and reached their expected potential. Some of the days she’d have to hold back on it, for the moment she sat in the seat she’d paralyze with fear, begin to have a panic attack all alone in the Jet. And she knew I’d be dangerous to be flying and going through that, she could kill herself or others. And when she was on ground, some days were good, others bad. Oceans could never get along with the other Mechanists, they didn’t like her for the deal and position she got, she had the best two jobs and was the most favored there by her superiors. By Oceans was favored because she was a good person, quiet and just focused on her job, she didn’t like hanging around with anyone, she was still going through the after effects of one of the biggest tragedies of her life, so she preferred solitude more than anything. Her Mechanist co-workers would pick on her for being silent and distant, others would grow rumors saying she slept with every LT and Admiral on the ship hence why she had the highest and greatest position. But the truth was, that Oceans was just good at her job, and fact: she was still a virgin. She had never gone into a relationship again sense her and her boyfriend broke it off in college, when he found out it she had joined the Navy and decided to not become a lawyer like him, and so, she didn’t want to try that again. Plus, she felt that she didn’t have time for relationships, Oceans was always busy and lived half her life on a ship, but she liked it, or more specifically, she loved it. But soon, that love began to change, when things started to get a little worse between her and her co-workers, well, one of them especially, Officer Cathrine Jeffries. Jeffries knew what had happened to Oceans, and the reason behind why she didn’t continue in Top Gun. So, Jeffries had made it her mission, to do exactly what she knew Oceans wouldn’t ever do again, Fly for Top Gun. She took the classes and all, tests and all, and passed second in her class, so she technically still made it. Finally when the graduation came, Jeffries invited everyone to the ceremony and after party. Everyone had gone except for Oceans, Oceans felt it would be a bad idea, for herself and also worsen the conflict her and Jeffries had. But she soon came to find out, it was probably the worse thing she could’ve done, and it didn’t help, that Jeffries had already pulled out most of Oceans patient strings.

June 15

Two and a half weeks after Jeffries ceremony, she came to pick up a box she had left where she had the names of all the people that were going to join her ceremony dinner (another one, but she was boastful and LOVED attention. Plus her excuse what that she said it was a goodbye party for her friends/co-workers. ) Looking through the names that were in the box, Jeffries came to find out, that Oceans name was the only one not in it. So with an upset attitude and full of pride from within but covering it all with fake innocence and her batting eyelashes, she approached Oceans that fine summer afternoon, to finally break the ice with her first question,

“Why aren’t you happy for me, Oceans?”

Oceans looked up from under the jet she was working on, and looked at Jeffries with an annoyed expression but kept her cool as she replied while still turning the wrench,

“I am, what are you talking about?”

Jeffries pulled out the board Oceans was laying on, making Oceans frown and she stood over Oceans, pushing the conversation with a voice of trying to play innocent and victim,

“Well, it’s cause you didn’t applaud when I walked in this morning as a LT when I was called to the front for my reward here, in fact, you were also the only one that didn’t show up to the ceremony and after party for me. And now, your not going to the ceremony dinner tonight? What’s up with that?”

Oceans clearly didn’t know how to respond to all of Jeffries questions, because they were beginning to get annoying and personal. Oceans didn’t like being

“It’s nothing Jeffries. I-I don’t like parties. Plus you said it was for your friends, and I’m not your friend. See y’all later guys-“

“Not until you explain why you’re not going Oceans-“

“I don’t need an explanation. I’m not going. End of discussion.”

Oceans walked passed Jeffries making a point to not touch her by any means so problems wouldn’t increase more, but she failed successfully when Jeffries had the guts to say,

“Why stray? You know you’re going to be left to dry? Like at your ceremony? Say, why didn’t I see your brother or family there?”

Oceans knew why she was left alone at the ceremony, why when her name was called out to come receive her reward at the front no one was there to applaud her or cheer for her, and it was the worst day of her life. And she never dared to share it with anyone, it hurt too much, almost haunting her. And Jeffries had no right to talk about it in any way, if she didn’t really know the truth, well, Oceans thought she didn’t know the truth until she said boastfully,

“Is that why you didn’t officially join Top Gun after you graduated? Huh?! You freaking scared you’ll end up like them-“

Jeffries didn’t finish talking when Oceans had already launched her fist at her wanting to punch the cruel audacity Jeffries had, and she was successful. But soon Oceans found out who’s side everyone was on, when they all immediately went to pull Jeffries away from her to protect her, and dragged Oceans away to jump her. Maybe Jeffries was a smaller woman, and had the best looks, but she was a huge asshole, and had a terrible attitude. Of course, Oceans was outnumbered when 3 girls jumped her and began to beat her for swinging at their friend. The noise and commotion got too loud, and before you knew it male LT.s and SGT.s came rushing in and breaking up the fight. They pulled off the 3 women and picked up a now bloody Oceans.

The LT got in Oceans face as he began to scream,

“What the hell happened Oceans!!-“

Oceans knew she shouldn’t have gone angry immediately and act with violence, but she couldn’t help it, when she was called a stray,

“LT, I apologize, I reacted horribly-“

He eyed her curiously with some anger and disappointment in his voice as he questioned with a now lower tone,

“What did you do?”

Oceans nodded her head at Jeffries who was being looked at by everyone that was in the room as she said truthfully but plainly,

“I swung at Jeffries, sir.”

The LT grabbed Oceans chin softly but with enough grip to turn her face to look it over, her chin was scraped and she had a busted lip, along with a bloody nose that had a gash on the top, her left eye was dark pink but was beginning to change to a darker shade quickly, seeing all this made the LT ask her curiously,

“Did you swing or Jeffries?”

Oceans stood straighter as she replied,

“I did sir, I swung first.”

The LT scoffed,

“You sure kid, cause Jeffries looks fine to me, and you look like a punching bag. What happened?”

Jeffries then walked up to the LT and Oceans as she began to defend herself,

“LT, I don’t know what occurred but her swinging at me wasn’t my fault-“

‘You son of a bitch, it’s not your fault?’

Oceans faced her with clenched fists at her sides as she frowned,

“You calling me a stray-“

The LT raised his hand to stop Oceans from saying more with a simple order,

“Officer Oceans at ease. Both of you, go see the Admiral before I get even more pissed.”

A couple a SGT.s walked Oceans and Jeffries to the Admirals office, where they would talk through the situation and consequences. They also brought along the 3 women that jumped Oceans.

The Admirals POV

In the Admirals office, he wasn’t very pleased to see one of his best sailors looking like hell, while the other looked untouched. He had heard from the LTs first that Oceans had swung at Jeffries, so he questioned Jeffries first,

“Officer Jeffries, what did you say? Or do? That provoked Officer Oceans to do what she did?”

“I didn’t say anything sir that could’ve been so hurtful enough that she swung at me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

The Admiral eyed her seriously as he finally questioned

“What did you say then?”

With a puffed up chest trying to look bigger than she was, Jeffries confidently gave her answer, thinking the Admiral was going to be on her side like everyone else, but she was so wrong when she said,

“I called her a stray.”

The Admiral stood from his chair and seethed,

“You called her a stray?! Why?”

Jeffries expression changed from confident to now doubting every bone in her body, The Admiral shook his head as he sat back down on his chair and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself before saying,

“Jeffries, all though you think, that calling Officer Oceans a stray, is meaningless, you don’t understand to the full extent of what it actually means.”

Jeffries looked at Oceans that was next to her as she continued to play victim and innocent,

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about-“

“You do! You’re one of the few that know what happened with Oceans family, and why Oceans was on her own at the ceremony, at the party, and even why she didn’t join Top Gun! You have no right to insult her tragedies.”

Jeffries eyes went wide with embarrassment, she had been caught.

Once the Admiral was done speaking, it was now time to correct his Officers, every action done, whether right or wrong, came with a consequence, good or bad. He knew Oceans was still healing, and it was difficult for her, but he just wished that she hadn’t swung at Jeffries,

‘As much as I side you, Oceans, and would’ve done the same thing to Jeffries, I have to stand by my orders, and punish you for act of violence, if not, it can cause problems amongst the rest. Who could pull the same stunt, with unreasonable reasons, and expect me not to punish them. I’m sorry Oceans.’

“Officer Oceans, I have to punish your actions from today, do you understand?”

Oceans nodded her head and answered,

“Yes Admiral, I understand.”

“Alright, from now until you get off this ship, which is for the next 3 weeks, I will have you assigned to stay on ground. You will not be allowed to test the Jets or any flying vehicles. And I will have you attend the Chapels meetings every night for counseling.”

Taking a deep breath of relief that her punishment wasn’t worse, Oceans sighed,

“Thank you, sir.”

The Admiral then stood up, shook Oceans hand and dismissed her.

Oceans POV

When Oceans was out of the office, she saw the 3 girls that had jumped her, waiting for there turn to talk with the Admiral, they were being watched by SGT.s so that they wouldn’t go anywhere, and run from there actions, escaping what was coming for them, well deserved consequences. They looked her up and down with anger in their eyes, they had heard what the Admiral had punished her with, and they weren’t happy about it, they wished worse had come to Oceans.

Oceans simply looked away from them as she fixed her hair, not sparing them the chance to see their work on her face, and walked away to the deck to get back to work.

‘Y’all better be freaking suspended, can’t breathe without my ribs hurting like hell! At least my lips will look a little fuller than usual, and I got some free eyeshadow, except it’s only on the left eye. Bitches.’

Oceans hoped that that would be the last time she’d deal with that kind of shenanigans, but she was so wrong when the last day on board came.

Chapter 2

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