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#top gun fan fic
thebirdandthebee · 1 year
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Aw Honey Honey (18+)
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A Jake “Hangman” Seresin one-shot based on the above prompt + “Does he not know that we’re together?” This is unedited and a little corny, but I think it turned out cute! Smut and fluff ahead! 18+ only. If you enjoyed it, please don't keep it to yourself :)
Title: Aw Honey Honey Jake Seresin isn’t sharing his Sugar. WC: 3085
To some people you were the cute girl who worked in the corporate office of community engagement on base at Miramar. To others, you were Lieutenant Commander Jake Seresin’s very serious, long-term girlfriend.
While you weren’t enlisted, you felt spoiled that you had an office on base, but weren’t tethered to quite the same rules and restrictions that your boyfriend, or his group of friends were obligated to abide by. Sure, you didn’t have free reign, but you often used your office as a hideout for your friends and colleagues during the day when they needed a place to relax for a few minutes.
Of course, there was work to do as well. You were in the thick of scheduling sailors and aviators alike to visit classrooms at elementary schools next week for Read Across America Day. Everyone got a class to visit from kindergarten through fifth grade, would read a Dr. Seuss book out loud, and then left a copy for each child to take home. It was one of your favorite days of the year.
“Knock, knock,” looking up from your computer, you saw Dean ‘Hooper’ Lennox, one of the newest aviators to join the elite fighter weapons school – or Top Gun.
“Hi Dean,” you smiled warmly, gesturing to the open seat across from you desk. “How ya doin’?”
“I’m good, how are you?” He asked, forgoing the chair and leaning against your desk.
“Happy it’s Friday,” you replied, leaning back in your chair and crossing one leg over the other, missing the way he glanced at your bare legs.
“Big plans this weekend?” he asked, reaching over flicking this finger across the top of your pen cup.
“I think some friends and I will hit The Hard Deck tonight,” you replied, opening up a desk drawer to pull out a Milky Way, breaking it in half and handing the other over to him. He grinned as he dropped it into his mouth as you enjoyed your treat as well.
“I’m sure we’ll end up there, too,” he added, eyes zeroing in on a thread of caramel on the corner of your mouth. “Maybe I can buy you a drink,” he reached down, running his thumb over your soft skin. You blushed with embarrassment; you must have looked ridiculous with candy on your face.
“Never say no to a free drink,” you laughed.
“Hey there,” you looked around Dean’s body to see Natasha’s head in your doorway.
“Hi Phee,” you grinned, “we’re having a candy break,” you explained.
“Love some sugar, huh Hooper?” Phoenix asked, “I think Rooster’s looking for you,” she added.
“See ya tonight,” Dean smiled, giving you a wink before disappearing from your office. Phoenix dropped into the chair opposite your desk.
“Milky Way or 100 Grand?” You asked, opening up your drawer.
“You know I want the Milky Way,” Phoenix replied with a flat look, opening her hand palm-up. You tossed one her way and she easily caught it, tearing it open. “Hooper visit you often?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah once and a while,” you shrugged.
“He always get right in your space like that?” She followed up.
“I don’t know,” you shrugged.
“I miss candy hour?” Jake asked, standing in the open door way.
“Hi babe,” you greeted, “candy hour is just starting,” you insisted, opening your drawer once again and fishing out a Baby Ruth bar.
“Thanks Sugar,” Jake said, walking over and kissing your cheek gently as he took the treat from you.
“You just missed Hooper,” Phoenix announced, giving her teammate a pointed look.
“Big loss,” Jake commented, not having a particular taste for the newbie.
“Yeah, he was getting some sugar from your Sugar,” Natasha added. You rolled your eyes with a laugh. Jake whipped around to look back at you, taking a bite out of his candy bar.
“Does he not know that we’re together?” He asked, his green eyes looking rather focused.
“Well it’s not like I introduce myself as Jake Seresin’s girlfriend,” you laughed, flipping your laptop back open.
“Well you could,” Jake said as if it was the obvious thing in the world.
“Phee, back me up here,” you said, looking for some female solidarity. Phoenix shrugged, planting her feet back on the ground and standing up.
“I don’t know, I think he wants to fuck you,” Phoenix said, “but I’ve got reports to file, so that’s my cue – see you all tonight.”
“Bye Phee,” you sighed, looking back up at Jake whose gaze had really focused back on you.
“Why does Phoenix think Hooper wants to fuck you?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Baby, he came in here to get some candy and asked me if I had any weekend plans,” you said plainly, standing up from your desk, “Phoenix is being ridiculous – besides, what do I care what Dean thinks?” You wound your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his chest. “I’ve got you,” You smiled, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw.
Jake gave in, draping his arms down over your shoulders and hugging you against him.
“Is it the weekend yet?” He asked, lacing his hand up into your hair, giving it a gentle tug.
“Tonight will be fun,” you insisted. “But for now, back to work, Hangman,” you laughed, landing an open palm on his ass.
“I’m reporting you,” Jake frowned, leaning down to press a hot kiss to your mouth, “see you at home.” He gave your hair one more little tug before disappearing. Dropping back down to your desk, you glanced at the clock. The workday couldn’t end soon enough.
You beat Jake home that afternoon, immediately changing out of your work clothes and into a pair of Jake’s shorts and a tank top. You were throwing together a cheese quesadilla in the kitchen when you heard the front door open again.
“Sugar?” He called out, “where ya hidin’ baby?” he wandered into the kitchen, already unbuttoning his khaki shirt.
“Hi handsome,” you grinned, greeting him with a kiss. “Want a lil snack?” you asked, brandishing your spatula in the air.
“I got a lil snack right here,” he said, chasing your lips with a kiss.
“What time are we meeting everyone?” You asked, “do we have time for a quick shower?”
“Sugar, you know we always have time for a shower,” Jake grinned.
“Split this with me,” you commanded, transferring the quesadilla to a plate, the cheese gooey and hot. Carefully cutting it in half, Jake gladly let you feed him bite by bite.
“How about we go away next weekend?” Jake said, gladly chowing down on the snack you made.
“Where do you want to go, babe?” You reached up, swiping at the corner of Jake’s mouth with a napkin.
“Go up the coast, stay in Malibu for a couple days,” he said, “get a little tan.”
“I’m in,” you nodded. “Love seeing you in those little euro swim trunks,” you winked. Jake scoffed with a shake of his head, tossing his plate in the sink and taking your last bite.
“You have ten seconds to strip and get in the shower,” he pointed to the bathroom down the hall. When Jake meant business, he meant business, so you skedaddled through the house, losing your shorts and top along the way. He’d grab them anyway, Jake Seresin was an unbearable clean freak.
You’d just stepped into the stream of water when you felt Jake’s hands on your waist, shortly followed by his breath in our ear.
“Hi Sugar,” he whispered, holding back the shower curtain as he stepped in.
“Hi Jake,” you grinned, turning to face him, the hot water beating down on your back.
“You been a good girl today?” He asked, pushing your hair back from your face.
“Always are,” you insisted, giving him those big doe eyes he always loved.
“Don’t like you being sweet to Hooper,” He said, walking you back to press you against the shower wall. The tile was cold and he welcomed your arched gasp, pressing your body against his hips-first.
“Can’t help being nice, babe, it’s my nature,” you reminded, “seem to recall when you enjoyed me being so sweet to you.” You’d met Jake two years ago around this time, when he came barreling into your office about a community event, asking a favor for support, when he stuck around for some homemade caramels.
“Your sugar is just for me,” he said, fingers trailing down your stomach to your sex, swiping two fingers through your wet folds before bringing them up to his mouth. “My favorite,” he complimented. “Let’s see if you’re sweet everywhere.”
Your hands found purchase in his blonde hair as his lips traveled from your lips to your jaw to your neck. Sucking gently, you gasped as his teeth grazed your delicate skin.
It was all you could do to run your hands up and down his sculpted back, water cascascading across his muscles as he traveled around your neck and collarbone.
“Jake,” you whined gently, impatience thick in your throat.
“Come on, honey girl,” he hoisted you up, hands planted firmly on your ass as he forced your legs around his waist. When he slid his cock home, you sighed with relief. “There you are,” he huffed into your ear, “there’s my sweet girl,” he could feel his lungs expand in his chest.
“I gotta shampoo,” you reminded, eyes going cross for a moment as he stroked up into you. “Are you seriously thinking about shampoo right now?” Jake asked.
“No, baby,” you giggled at his affronted tone, but gasped as he doubled his efforts, hitting just the right spot inside of you relentlessly. “Jake,” you moaned.
“That’s better,” he grit out, legs shaking beneath him. He liked to think he was in fairly good shape, but the way your sex clenched around him had Jake second-guessing himself. “God you feel incredible, Sugar,” his brows knit in concentration.
Acclimated to the temperature of the tile against your back, you returned your hands to his hair, soothing the lines of his forehead from pure concentration.
“Fucking me so good,” you encouraged, head tilting back against the wall. “Always fuck me so good,” your hand gripped the back of Jake’s neck, fingertips stroking the fine hair there.
“Come on baby, give me that sugar,” he grunted, fingers returning to your clit, making you jump. Jake knew your body better than you, and he could tell, as your right heel dug into his lower back, that you were close. He pressed his forehead into your neck as he came, hips stuttering erratically, mindful to fuck you through his orgasm. With shaking hands, he swirled around your clit just right, shouting as you came, squeezing him in a way that caused black spots in his vision.
Jake, on unsteady legs, gently set you down, the shower filled with billows of steam.
Lazily looping your arms around his neck, he kissed you slowly, savoring the taste of your mouth.
“Lemme shampoo you,” you whispered, making him honk out a loud laugh.
“I swear you love your shampoo more than me,” He said, pressing a firm kiss to your lips.
“Baby, not more than you,” you murmured, “just as much.” A loud squeal ripped from your mouth as he slapped your ass.
Twenty minutes later, you were throwing a summery strapless maxi dress on, tying your hair back into a low bun.
“Babe?” You called for Jake, who was grabbing fresh clothes from the laundry room. He dutifully stepped into the bedroom, taking your necklace and clasping it around your neck wordlessly – a habit he was all too accustomed to. Appearing in the bathroom mirror, you frowned as you saw how red and splotchy your skin was from Jake’s ministrations, but applied minimal makeup nonetheless.
“Your boobs look good,” he commented, stepping behind you, hands cupping your breasts over your dress.
“Jake,” you laughed, “get out of the way or I’m going to get perfume on you,” you warned. He gave your breasts a quick squeeze before heading down the hall.
You still had twenty minutes or so until you needed to leave, so you’d grabbed the mail and sorted through a few items before picking up the living room and packing your purse for the night.
Jake busied himself in the office before Coyote text him that they were leaving quarters to hit the bar.
“Sugar, time to leave,” he instructed, pulling you from your pile of newspaper coupons. He held your hand as you stepped into your shoes, bringing you a little closer to his height.
You rode alongside him in he car, leaning into his side with an arm over your shoulder. You were grateful for the weekend and the chance to unwind. Planning for the reading event had taken a lot out of you this week and you were ready for the chance to decompress.
Upon arriving at The Hard Deck, Jake grasped your hand, leading you inside. It was already packed for the night, Fridays being the most popular time, and Jake spotted Coyote over near one end of the bar with Harvard and Fritz.
“Oh, there’s Tasha – I’ll meet you,” you assured, rocking up to your toes to peck Jake’s lips. “Buy me a beer?” You asked, already crossing the bar. Jake shook his head with a smile, knowing he’d get you anything you asked for.
“What the hell happened to you?” Natasha asked as a greeting. You looked back over you shoulder, wondering if she was talking to you.
“What?” You asked, brows furrowed, “me?”
“You look like you got fucking mauled,” she laughed sardonically, eyeing you up. Looking down, you could see the faintest yellow mark just below your collarbone. Grabbing Natasha’s phone, you flipped the camera to selfie-mode. Over the last half an hour, your red splotches had developed into yellow-green bruises all of your neck and collarbone. “What the fuck?” you laughed, rolling your eyes, “Jake.” You supplied as an answer. “It’s your fault actually,” you said pointedly, angling your body away from the bar.
“My fault?” Natasha asked, eyes wide.
“Yes! Jake got all in my business after you told him Hooper wants to fuck me,” you gave her a meaningful look.
“Well Hooper does want to fuck you,” she said plainly. “Here,” she grabbed her jean jacket off the high top next to her. “This will piss Jake off,” she grinned.
“I don’t really care what he thinks, I just look ridiculous,” you shrugged it on – letting it rest on your shoulders without looping your arms through the sleeves.
You and Natasha caught up for a bit longer, you leaning an elbow against the countertop.
After a good fifteen minutes, you noticed Hooper approaching from over Natasha’s shoulder, and you stood a little straighter.
“No drink in your hand?” He asked with a wide smile.
“Oh, her friend is getting her one,” Natasha smiled knowingly.
“Sure I can’t buy you one? I did offer,” he said, giving her a smile like butter wouldn’t melt. Maybe he was flirting with her after all.
“You’re sweet, but I’m all set,” you reassured.
“Can’t wait for the Read Across America event next week,” he said excitedly, a genuine smile reflecting in those blue eyes. You weren’t blind – Hooper was an attractive man - ocean eyes, fluffy dark brown hair and a chin cleft that harkened back to old Hollywood. He just wasn’t your Jake.
“Yeah, you been practicing your ABCs?” Natasha asked snarkily. You tossed her a look that screamed be nice!
“I’m glad! Not everyone jumps at the chance to entertain a class of 20 six-year olds,” you smiled.
“I’ve got a big family, lots of siblings – I also volunteer as Big Brother out of the San Diego chapter of Big Brothers Big Sisters,” he elaborated, watching the smile on your face grow.
“Yeah, you read to orphans, too?” Natasha asked, sipping her beer. You caught her eye, just to see her expression change and a feline grin take over her face.
“Hi there,” you could spot Jake’s voice anywhere. “Brought your favorite,” he said, setting a summer shandy down on the counter next to your elbow.
“Thanks Jake,” you smiled. “Dean was just telling us about how he volunteers at Big Brothers Big Sisters, isn’t that just the sweetest?” You asked, looking up and over your shoulder at him.
“The sweetest,” Jake grinned that cocky smirk that made you wonder what he was going to do next. “Sugar are you not sweatin’ in here with that jacket on?” He asked, gingerly taking the shoulder seams in his hands and dragging it off of your body, folding it in half and tossing it over the same chair it originally laid across.
There was no missing Hooper’s expression as he eyed up the gallery of color across your neck and décolletage.  
“Yeah, I um –” He watched, clearing his throat as Jake snaked his arms around your waist from behind, dropping a kiss down on your bare shoulder. “Started back at my old chapter in Kansas City, but transferred here… when I moved.” He finished lamely.
“That’s so kind of you, I wish I could do more philanthropically, but I get to fill that cup through work, so it’s a big bonus,” you smiled, Jake’s body pressed so tightly up against your back, there wasn’t room for even a piece of paper to slip between you. Natasha’s grin was downright wicked from behind the rim of her glass, the glint in her eyes absolutely entertained.
“She’s a real sweet girl,” Jake commented. “Sugar sweet,” he finished, squeezing your waist in hand.
“I think Tanker and Mad Dog are starting up a game of pool,” he said, eyes darting all around – “I’ll see you guys later, have a great night.” He practically left a cloud of smoke in his wake.
“Jacob Seresin,” you scolded, turning in your boyfriend’s grip. Natasha burst into laughter.
“Yes?” He asked, tipping his chin up to look down at you, that same cocky smirk on his face.
“You’re unbelievable you know that?” You asked.
“Better believe it,” he grinned.
“And what is all this?” You gestured to your colorful skin.
“I think it turned out quite well, wouldn’t you agree, Phoenix?” He asked.
“You’re a real piece of work, Bagman,” she shook her head, but smiled nonetheless.
“What am I going to do with you, huh?” You asked, leaning forward.
“You can start by giving me some sugar.”
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed Aw Honey Honey, you might also like Mighty Fine!
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topguncortez · 4 months
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Are You With Me? | Ch I
| Jake Seresin x Shy!Wifey
series masterlist | next part
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synopsis: Jake gets a terrifying call in the middle of the night that has him rushing to his ex-wife's side. Y/N is put in the middle of two men who she cared about. The Seresins get shocking news.
word count: 2.2k
warnings: emergency rooms, medical inaccuracies, mentions of blood, childhood cancer, fighting, divorce, mentions of cheating
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“What happened?” Jake asked, out of breath as he ran down the corridor. He had just fallen asleep when he got a frantic call from his ex wife. He could hardly make out the words she was saying to him, but he managed to understand that she was taking their daughter to the ER. It was like a hot knife in Jake’s chest as he sprinted out of bed and broke nearly all traffic laws to get to the hospital. 
Y/N’s was shaking like a leaf in the wind, as she took a step away from the large window where she had been watching doctors and nurses tend to her child, “I-I don’t know,” Her voice was thick with tears, her eyes and nose red. The only thing she wore was a nightgown and a jacket over it, “Ella, sh-she has had this cough and it hasn’t gone away and she started complaining about not being able to breathe and then. . .” Y/N sucked in a deep breath, trying to slow her heart rate down, “There was so much blood.” 
“Shh, shh,” Jake pulled her into his chest, cradling the back of her head. A loud sob racked through her body, and Jake held her tighter, “Let’s go sit down, okay? I’ll get you some tea and a snack.”
Y/N nodded her head, and let Jake guide her through the hospital to the waiting room. Her body felt heavy as she collapsed in the chair. The only image flashing through her mind was of her daughter standing in the doorway of her room with blood all over her shirt. Y/N closed her eyes, rubbing them with the heel of her hand. Ella had been complaining about her chest hurting and this persistent cough that would not go away. Y/N just thought it was her being sick with the common cold. 
“Here,” Jake said, holding a foam cup and a granola bar out to his ex-wife. Y/N gingerly took the items and Jake sat down in the chair next to her. The tension stretched over them as they both sat in silence, Y/N nibbling on the granola bar and Jake fiddling with his fingers. The last time they had sat this close to one another was when they were in couples therapy. Most of the time, if they had to sit near each other, they would put one of the kids in the middle. 
“I’m sorry I called you so early,” Y/N mumbled, breaking the silence. 
Jake looked at her, a small frown on his face, “I’d rather you did than wait until morning. I know you hate doctors.”
“Had to get over that this past year.” 
A year. It had been a whole year since Jake signed those papers, and Y/N had walked out of his life. It had been a year of utter misery for the both of them, but their pride got in the way of being able to admit that. It had been a year of awkward conversations while dropping the kids off at each other’s houses. A year of avoiding each other at Dagger family events. A year of tears and aching hearts when the other mentioned going out on a date. A year of suffering because of one mistake. 
“Well, Ella is my daughter,” Jake said, sitting up in his seat, “And I am going to be here for my daughter, no matter what time it is.” 
They both agreed in the divorce to keep things as civil as they possibly could for the sake of the children. Jake didn’t fight Y/N on custody, only asking that he gets them on the weekends. Y/N still allowed Jake to come over as often as he wanted to, and he was at the house most nights. Jake hated going home to that small on-base house that was nothing compared to the beautiful craftsman they had bought together after Eli was born. Y/N let Jake stay for dinner, and help with bath time, before getting the kids to bed. It was always awkward when he’d leave for the night; both of them wanting to ask the other if they would stay. 
“I know,” Y/N swallowed, “I just. . . I don’t know.” 
The silence stretched back over them. The lobby of the emergency room was surprisingly busy for an early Tuesday morning. Drunkards were waiting to get fluids to sober up. A couple who looked like they were about to have a baby sat in the corner, the man coaxing his wife through breathing exercises. A sad looking elderly man with a deep frown etched on his face. A mother holding her child to her chest, soothing his hiccups. Y/N longed to be able to be back with Ella, but the doctors had ushered her out of the room when Ella quit breathing. 
Y/N was lost in her thoughts when a voice called out to her, “Y/N.” 
“Miles,” She stood up from her chair, “W-what’s going on? Is Ella alright?” 
“You’re my daughter’s doctor?” Jake said, eyeing Miles up and down. 
Y/N shot a glare in Jake’s direction. Now was not the time to get in a pissing match. 
“I am,” Miles said, brushing off Jake’s comment, “I was working a round in the ER when she came in. I’m also lead pediatric surgeon.” 
Rolling his eyes, Jake muttered, “Of course you are.”
“Anyway,” Miles continued, “We ran some tests on Ella, a simple blood test and then an X-Ray,” He paused for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. Y/N’s hand reached out for Jake’s on instinct, squeezing it, “Her blood test came back showing signs of abnormal cell growth, and there’s a small mass on the right lower lobe of her lung.” 
It was as if Miles had slugged Y/N in the chest. She sat down, afraid her knees were going to give out if she were still standing. The words Miles and Jake were sharing might as well have been a world away, as none of it was making sense to her. 
“How did this happen?” Y/N asked, her voice felt foreign to her as she looked up at the men, “How did I miss this?” 
“We don’t really know,” Miles said softly, “Sometimes, the body just creates abnormal cells. Lung cancer in kids looks totally different than lung cancer in adults. It’s not your fault.” 
Y/N nodded her head and looked down at her hands, “So what do we do?” 
“We’re gonna discharge her for today, and send you home with some medicine to help suppress the cough. Then we’re gonna get you set up with an oncology appointment, run some more tests and we’ll go from there.” 
“Can we see her?” Jake asked. 
“Of course,” Miles nodded his head, and told them Ella’s room number. 
Jake sat down next to Y/N, letting out a deep sigh. This was the last thing he thought was going to happen when Y/N called him at 2:30 in the morning. The only person Jake knew to have lung cancer was his grandfather, and it was a bitter end to his life. Hospitals, and oxygen masks, and not being able to do anything but lay in a bed and wait for death to come. It wasn’t what he imagined for his little girl. Not in this lifetime. 
“You never told me what happened between you and Miles?” Jake asked, looking over at Y/N. 
She let out a sigh, stretching her arms out and flexing her fingers, “Just didn’t work out.” 
Truth was, Y/N was so irrevocably in love with Jake, that being with Miles was only going to cause more harm than good. Miles had been the perfect guy; he was respectful, kind, he cared about Y/N’s kids and treated them with respect as well. He also loved her, flaws and all. And that was the issue. Miles loved Y/N more than Y/N could ever love him. It broke her heart to have to break up with him, but she couldn’t let him continue to think that something was going to happen. 
Jake hummed, “I thought you two were going to get-” 
“Can we not talk about my love life right now?” Y/N snapped, looking at her ex, “Now is not the time.” 
“I’m sorry,” Jake apologized, “She’s going to be okay, ya know?” Y/N’s eyes filled with unshed tears, “She’s strong and healthy, just like you.” 
Y/N nodded her head, “I know. It’s just not what I want for her. I hate this!” 
Jake wrapped his arm around Y/N’s shoulder and brought her into him. He hated seeing her cry and in the past year, he had seen her shed a lot of tears. Over the years, Y/N got better at stuffing her emotions down. It was hard raising kids with a husband who flew jets at supersonic speed into dangerous territories. She had to become both mentally and physically strong to withstand the months of Jake being gone and her left to raise the kids. Now, those emotions came crumbling down. 
“Let’s go back and see her, okay?” Jake asked, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s temple. She wordlessly nodded her head and Jake stood up, helping her to her feet. 
They rode the elevator in silence up to the pediatric floor where Ella was. When the doors opened they were met with bright colored green and blue walls with various animals painted on them. Children were just starting to wake up on the floor, as nurses and aids went into their rooms with colorful cups of medicine. Some parents had spent the night, sleeping on a cot next to their child’s bed, other parents were just arriving with cups of coffee and tired looks on their faces. Y/N was surprised at how warm the unit felt. That was the one thing she hated about hospitals. They always felt so cold and lonely. But the pediatric ward was filled with bright smiles, and laughter. 
Jake knocked on the door to Ella’s room, which had a painted unicorn on it, “Knock, knock,” He said, slowly opening the door. 
“Daddy!” Ella exclaimed. Jake rushed over to the bed, and hugged his little girl tightly. He wasn’t sure if it was because of her illness, but she felt smaller in his arms than she had ever felt, “I missed you.” 
“Missed you too Ella Bella,” Jake said softly, and placed a kiss on her temple, “How are you feeling?” He helped her lay back in bed, and covered her with a blanket. Y/N silently walked to the otherside of Ella’s bed as Jake sat down on the small mattress. 
“I’m tired,” Ella yawned, “Nurse Becky gave me strawberry jell-o and Auntie Val saw me when I had my pictures done!” 
“She did?” Y/N asked, trying her best to sound happy. She made a mental note to contact her best friend and tell her how thankful she was for her visit to Ella. If there was one thing about Val Machado, it was that she was going to care of her friends’ kids. Val even said once the Seresin kids were basically her kids and vice versa. 
“Yes! She gave me a unicorn sticker! Like the one on the door!” Ella held up the sticker that was on her hospital gown. 
“That’s beautiful baby,” Jake said, his green eyes full of love as he brushed his hand over her cheek. 
“Daddy,” Ella said softly, “Can I go home now?” 
“Yes Elles,” Jake nodded his head, “We’re gonna go home. You, me, and Mommy.” 
A weird feeling went through Y/N’s chest when Jake said they were all going home. She tried her best to ignore it, knowing that Jake was only saying words to comfort their daughter. When a nurse came in, Y/N and Jake excused themselves to go sign some paperwork and set up the next doctor’s appointment. They sat on opposite sides of a round table, Jake filling out insurance forms while Y/N sighed Ella’s discharge forms. 
“You shouldn’t have told her that you were coming home,” Y/N muttered. 
Jake furrowed his eyebrows, “Why? I am coming home with you guys.” 
“Jake,” Y/N sighed, setting the pen down. 
“No,” Jake answered, “I am not just gonna go back to base and pretend like everything is fine and dandy. Cause it’s not fine and dandy, Y/N. Our child is sick.”
“I know,” Y/N’s voice became thick with tears, “I know this, Jake.” 
“Then don’t push me away,” Jake sounded defeated, “Not now. Not when we need each other the most.” 
Y/N let out a shaky sigh, “I just don’t know if I can forgive you.” 
“You don’t have to,” Jake said, getting up from his chair and going over to kneel in front of his wife. He grabebd her hands in his, running his thumbs over the back of them, “You don’t have to forgive me now or ever. But you need someone to rely on and be there just as much as I need someone to rely on and be there. This isn’t going to be easy. . . but we are the only ones who will understand what we are going through. We need each other right now.” 
Y/N bit her lip and nodded her head, “Okay.” 
“Okay?” Jake asked, his eyes full of hope and longing. 
“Okay,” Y/N said again, sniffling, “Let’s go take our baby home.”
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721 notes · View notes
ussgallifrey · 3 months
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Home for the Holiday | Part 3
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✦ Summary: Never let it be said that you weren’t willing to do just about anything for your squadron. As you find yourself roped into an elaborate ruse to help fool Hangman’s mother for Christmas all seems to be going according to plan. But when that plan spirals out of control, the line between real and pretend begins to blur.
✦ Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Female Reader
✦ Warnings: Anxiety, arguments, fake dating, hurt/comfort, Jake’s family being fake and generally awful towards him, mentions of divorce, mentions of past abuse, minor angst.
✦ Word Count: 9.9k
✦ Author’s Note: Hi, has it been over a year since I posted anything for this story? It must be a Christmas miracle! Anyway, this one has been sitting in my drafts for a very long time, slowly getting added to every few months. And here we come to the end of Jake's annoying family. The next two chapters will be decidedly happier, I promise.
[Master List]
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You’re woken neither by your own internal clock nor the backup alarm on your phone but by the irritated slamming of something across the hotel room. It takes you a second to properly assess the sound as being of the non-dream variety. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you push up onto your elbow to stare into the unsettled darkness.
The golden light from the bathroom spills out into the entryway where a shirtless Hangman seems to be fighting a losing battle with the foldup ironing board.
“You good?” you call out, voice still hoarse with sleep.
His eyes snap up to meet yours, mustering out an almost guilty, “Shit, sorry Pits.”
You wave him off, sitting up properly - the white sheets spilling over your thighs.
The bedside clock informs you that it’s still early in the morning, though not unreasonably so. He had told you the drive to his father’s place would take a while, so it made sense for him to be up at this hour but less so for whatever the hell he was trying to accomplish across the room.
Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, scratching at the back of your neck as you pad your way over to find out.
“What’s with the iron?”
There’s a seafoam green shirt on the board with a plugged-in iron on its end, that much you can see.
“Damn thing won’t turn on,” he flicks the buttons on the iron up and down, on and off.
Quirking your brow, “You know it takes time to heat up, yeah?”
He pauses, fixing you with an exasperated look, “Fifteen minutes enough for you?”
Throwing your hands up in a defensive hold, you take a step back.
“Shit. Look, I’m not trying to be a total ass here. Just, I didn’t exactly go packing a lot of options and I can’t go wearing what I did yesterday because Josh saw it already - ”
“Got it.”
He sighs in defeat, grabbing hold of the shirt. Giving it a good flap, you can see the clear wrinkles on the front.
For a lazy day in, the shirt would be fine. But this was a family get-together and Jake Seresin was a naval officer. His closet was likely similar to your own when it came to precision-pressed and properly hung items. Wearing this shirt, the way it was, would not fly.
“Well, before you go complain to the front desk - give it here, and let me try something.”
His own brow rises but he ultimately hands it over by the scruff of the collar. Swiping up your toiletry bag, you head into the bathroom, looking over your shoulder to give him a small smile.
“Let’s see if the magic of steam can’t work a miracle on this.”
His features drop in a way that says he hadn’t even considered that as an option before he grins, “Here’s hoping.”
After hanging the shirt on the towel bar, you take an extra long and heated shower. Letting the water massage your back and shoulders with its pressure. You certainly missed the little things like this when you were aboard the carrier. Uninterrupted, hot, lengthy showers where you didn’t feel like it might be a biohazard to touch any surface.
No, this was nice.
And when you step out of the tub and wrap a towel around your middle, you crack the door open to inform Jake that his shirt is just about good to go.
“But I can hit it with the hair dryer still. We got time, right?”
He hums in reply from the other side of the room, though you can’t see him.
Turning on the exhaust fan, you wipe down the steam-covered mirror with a hand towel and go about finishing your routine. Making sure your feet are actually dry, you step back into the room - walking over to your bag in search of another outfit.
Jake had pushed aside the blackout curtains in your absence, filling the room with natural light. He’s sat on the edge of his bed again, but now he has a plain white tank on to go with his jeans. You can hear the faintest clearing of his throat, making you look back at him.
His gaze drifts down your back for a second before he seems to busy himself with his phone again.
“I’m guessing this one is a little more casual?” you ask, pulling out three different shirts.
“Mmm, yeah,” he clears his throat again with a cough, glancing over towards the bathroom.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get your shirt out in a minute. I’m just letting the steam work its last bit of magic on it.”
His eyes finally meet yours and he frowns slightly, “I wasn’t - y-yeah… okay.”
And then it seems to dawn on you: you were only wearing a towel.
And while it might be common for the guys of your squadron to walk around shirtless in the gym, or when they were changing out of sweaty flight gear, it wasn’t exactly a frequent occurrence for you to be seen in anything but your usual navy-issued tank and shorts. And while Hangman himself had been in nothing more than a towel yesterday morning, during the rush to get ready, that seemed like an entirely different situation to your own.
Your heart races as you become aware of just how exposed you are right now.
Grabbing hold of your entire bag and muttering out an embarrassed: “Sorry, I’ll just - ” as you hurriedly flee back into the bathroom.
Hangman, for his part, seems too stunned to even form a reply and you can’t exactly blame him.
Jesus, what were you thinking? You might be comfortable around your squadron but nothing over the past two days had elicited that level of comfort between the two of you.
Taking far longer than necessary to choose an outfit and get dressed, you’re slow and methodical about your hair and makeup this time too. Only when your nerves have settled down from the encounter, do you finally grab his shirt and return to the room.
“Well, what do you think?”
You hold the shirt up for him to examine. He nods, standing from his spot on the bed to take hold of it by the shoulders.
“Thank you.”
You just nod, tight-lipped, as you go about putting your bag away in its rightful spot. Jake tugs his arms through the sleeves before heading over to the full-length mirror by the front door. You watch as he methodically rolls the sleeves up to his elbows, creasing the cuff perfectly each time. When he’s done, he twists his watch around - back and forth, a few times.
And then he clears his throat, looking over towards you as you slip on your boots.
“You look good, by the way.”
Slowly, your eyes meet his and you offer him a gentle smile.
“Not too shabby yourself, Bagman.”
He ducks his head down for a second, grinning all the same. But then he’s glancing down at his watch and frowning again, patting his front and back pockets as he checks his EDC.
“You ready to go?”
Rising from the desk chair, you fix him with a questioning look, “Are you?”
With a smirk, he shakes his head. Offering an honest, “No.”
Jake holds the door open for you as you leave the room, heading down to the stairwell. You make an off-hand comment about it not being the way to the free dine-in breakfast. But he just keeps walking and eventually, you're in the parking lot. Slipping into the passenger side of the rental car, you watch as he adjusts the rearview mirror and his own seat.
Before he even starts the ignition, he looks over at you, “Hungry?”
“Well, someone wouldn’t let us go down to the lobby for breakfast.”
“Ha,” he chuckles. “Come on, I know a better place.”
Raising your brow as you buckle your seatbelt you say, “I’m intrigued.”
Hangman just grins, grabbing hold of the back of your seat as he backs out of the parking spot.
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You're not sure what you expected, but when Jake pulls into a busy Sunoco gas station ten minutes later, you can't help but raise your brow skeptically at him.
“Trust me,” he grins - all teeth - as he snags his aviators from his shirt collar.
“Tell me they have the best donuts around at least,” you call, following him out of the car.
He had parked off to the side, away from the entrance of the food mart. Digging his hands into his jean pockets, he waits for you to meet him on the sidewalk in front of the hood of the rental car.
Grinning with all the smugness of a higher power, he nudges your arm with his elbow and leads the way. Avoiding the building entirely, which makes you even more curious. The two of you round the other side of the gas station where the smell of smoked meat and spice fills the air.
There are two food trucks, a yellow tear-drop-shaped repurposed camper, and a smaller red build. Each has its own canvas tent with tables and chairs set up underneath. Fancy chalkboard signs bring the promise of amazing food as do the long-stretched lines outside of them both.
“Okay,” you admit, “You had me concerned for a second there.”
He chuckles, getting into the yellow truck's line, “Gotta keep you on your toes, sweetheart. Anyway, I wanted to give you the chance of having an Austin staple.”
Well, if the menu wasn't enticing enough for you, then the smell certainly was. You find yourself nearly floating along the line with Jake. After ordering, you grab an empty picnic table to yourselves and proceed to dig into the absolutely massive breakfast burritos.
“Have you eaten here before?” you ask after swallowing another absolutely sinful bite.
“No, actually,” he wipes his mouth with another napkin. “This place didn't exist until two years back. Found it online when you were, uh, getting ready.”
Your chest aches as you recall the awkward encounter from this morning. Slowing your chewing, you manage out a pinched, "Well, god bless online reviews. This is incredible."
After another bite, you rub your lips with the back of your hand, glancing across to meet his gaze - his sunglasses remain folded on the table now, so you're able to see the green of his eyes once again.
“I mean it,” you swallow. “This might be the best breakfast I've ever had.”
He stares for a moment, swallowing his own bite before a slow smile graces his lips.
“Better not let your momma hear you talking like that.”
You laugh, “I'm sure she'd understand.”
Jake gives a warm chuckle, shaking his head, “Hell, think you know more about my family than I do about yours at this point. Not even sure I can remember you ever talking about them.”
Setting the burrito down carefully in the foil wrapper, you contemplate his small accusation. While you had certainly heard your fill of just about everyone else’s families while on deployment, you can’t recall if you really ever dove into talking about your own.
Obviously, you had heard all about Jake’s very extended family at this point. But even you knew about Freud and his weird association with his mom’s current husband - her fifth husband if you were remembering things correctly. Cosmo had a close relationship with his sister Cecilia but not his sister Lucia. Slab had a complicated connection with his adoptive parents but got on okay with his older brother. And so on.
“They’re not very interesting,” you finally settle on.
He raises a single eyebrow, “I highly doubt that.”
“Compared to yours?”
That makes him smirk, “Fair point.”
From there, it takes you a little longer to realize that you’re both eating at a leisurely pace and that Jake isn’t constantly checking his watch or telling you to speed it up. It’s a strange occurrence, given his usual attentiveness for being timely. Jake Seresin lived by the motto that if you’re early, you’re on time and if you’re on time, you’re late.
So, as nearly a full hour of the two of you sitting there and shooting the shit passes, you start to grow the slightest bit concerned. Going on to ask:
“How far did you say your dad’s place was?”
His lips immediately fall into a sort of scowl as you pull him away from a very amusing story about his time in officer’s school.
“Two hours,” comes the almost robotic reply.
“Does that mean we should start, you know, heading out?”
Your breakfast had long since been finished and the wrappers thrown away. Your drinks were little more than melted ice and semi-chewed straws at this point.
After ruffling his hair and twisting his watch around a few times, he finally sighs.
“Yeah, probably.”
Forcing a tight-lipped smile, you slap his shoulder as you finally stand up from the picnic table.
“Come on, Seresin. You got me as your wingman for a second round today. No time like the present.”
Grabbing hold of both of your near-empty drinks, he too lifts his leg over the side of the bench and stands up with a playfully annoyed, “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up now, Pits.”
The ride to his dad’s house is filled with Christmas music played by two different country radio stations. As the odometer slowly creeps up mile by mile, you can see the difference in your companion’s composure. He started out relaxed, almost lounging in his seat. And then it grows more rigid; with his hands clutching the steering wheel like it had personally wronged him.
Last night, the two of you had talked about the upcoming shitstorm of a holiday get-together.
You knew Josh would be there again. But you would also be meeting his other brother, Justin, and his wife and kids of course. And then there was his sister, Jess, and her brood - as he had put it.
Just from the way he talked about his siblings, it was clear that Jake did not get on with - nor keep in close contact with - any of them. He seemed particularly hung up on his sister more so than his older brothers. And while you were sure there was a story - or two - there, you didn’t feel it was the time, or place,to pry.
And then, of course, there was the infamous Mr. Seresin himself. Of him, you knew the least amount of information. Only being told that you should keep your conversations limited if not just nonexistent. You weren’t sure how well that idea would apply in reality, but for your friend’s sake, you promised to keep things to his plan.
As the radio DJ announces yet another Thomas Rhett song, Jake finally hops onto an exit ramp, signaling that you were close to the inevitable get-together.
In almost two hours, you had covered a variety of topics pertaining to work. But seeing the great amount of tension currently attacking your wingman, you finally relent with a different story.
“I got my pilot’s license at seventeen.”
Only because you’re at a stoplight does Jake look over at you, wide-eyed and mouth slightly ajar as the beginnings of a smirk curl into place.
“Do tell.”
You chuckle as he turns the wheel.
“Whole line of aviators, actually. Great-grandpa was a paratrooper during Korea and I guess he just missed the adrenaline when he came back to the States. His son took up commercial flying and my dad got his license just because it seemed like everyone else in the family was doing it.”
“And you?” his sage green eyes meet yours for a quick second before he focuses back on the road ahead of you.
With a shrug, you draw your knee up on the seat and stare out the passenger window. Swatches of dusty farmland and wooden fences pass you by.
“Guess I was always just growing up around them. My grandpa took me flying all the time when my dad was busy working. Did my first solo ride at fifteen in a glider and got my license two years later.”
You can see his grin from out of your peripheral and count it as a victory.
“Any other incredible talents you’ve kept hidden under that smartass exterior?”
“Hey!” you gently slap his arm, pulling a fake pout. “If there was, I’m not telling you now.”
“Alright, alright,” he bites his lip, tapping the steering wheel as a sense of ease washes over him. “I’ll play nice.”
With a roll of your eyes, you mutter under your breath, “Fat fucking chance.”
There’s a seemingly dramatic sigh from him which is immediately followed by a hand being jabbed into your flank and a screech of laughter erupting from your lips as Jake proceeds to tickle your side.
“G-god fuckin- STOP, y-you asshole,” you try to squirm away from his touch, but his fingers seem to know your exact weak points and there’s only so far you can scramble away.
“Give it up, Pita,” he croons sweetly, still somehow managing to drive the car steadily down the road with his left hand.
“Mercy! Mer-cy, you jackass!”
You shove at his hand until he finally relents. Absolutely beaming as he looks over at you, unable to stop his own chuckle from seeing the state of you. He sighs, the bubble of laughter on his lips as he turns down a dirt road.
“Sure know how to distract a guy.”
With a huff of indignation, you say, “I’m sure there’s more alluring ways to do that.”
Only when Jake chokes on his own spit do you throw your head back in a howl of laughter.
“Christ, the look on your face, Seresin.”
“Ha ha,” he deadpans, catching your gaze in the reflection of the rearview mirror. “Laugh it up, sweetheart. Cause we’re almost there.”
That does seem to sober you both up almost instantly.
The radio sways in and out between bits of static break-up. As the houses fall further and further back from the road, it seems like you’re looking at nothing but straight-up copper-dusted fields.
Hangman leans forward on the wheel as he peers out at the stretch of dirt road, checking the numbers on the mailboxes that pop up every mile. And then, at last, he finally slows the car down to a steady roll.
And while Lady A is singing about it being an absolutely Wonderful Christmastime, you watch as all signs of joy seem to drain from your friend’s face as he turns onto the long-winding drive of his father’s ranch. The tires kick up dirt and pebbles, leaving a trail of dust in your wake. You’re jostled in your seat from the rough terrain of the unpaved driveway.
“Can’t believe I’m fucking doing this,” he murmurs, staring up ahead at the trucks already parked next to the white barn.
The house itself is a massive ranch-style home, with wood siding that almost makes it look like an older cabin. But the windows are clearly modern and sleek. It was no question at all that Jake’s father had some serious money to his name here. If the accompanying acres of farmland weren’t already a dead giveaway.
You wait for him to park, killing the ignition and resting his arms on the steering wheel with a resigned look in place of his usually bright eyes.
“When, uh, when was the last time you were here?”
With a sigh, his chin resting on the wheel now too as he stares up at the sprawling house.
“All the time as a kid. It was my granddad’s. Went on to my uncle until he ran himself straight into debt from all the gambling and drinking. Then this one - ” he jerks his head in the general direction of the house once again, “ - got it passed onto him. Haven’t been back since my granddad passed. So maybe… fourteen years?”
With a singular blink, you mutter an equally pressed, “Jesus, Seresin.”
“Yeah, well…” he just shakes his head, having already given you the gist of everything last night. No point in rehashing old news.
“Looks like everyone is here,” you comment after glancing around at the other numerous vehicles in the drive.
He nods, finally pulling the keys from the ignition and swinging the chain into his hand.
You follow him up the path to the front porch – a once beautiful piece of craftsmanship now deteriorating and stained. The floorboards of the deck squeak under your shoes and a handful of the railings seem to be either broken-off or missing entirely. A black bear carved out of wood greets you both with a simple welcome sign held in its fur-textured paws.
Jake gives a solid rap to the door before he grabs hold of the handle and shoves it open. More of a courtesy knock than anything.
With a little squeeze to his bicep, you give him your best encouraging nod and follow after him as he slides through the entryway where a massive pile of boots and shoes has been deposited.
You’re only afforded a sliver of a proper view into the main living space, but the noise level is already on par with an F18 ready to take off from the flight deck.
As you kick off your shoes into the sprawling mess of footwear, you’re assaulted by the sound of screaming children, raucous cheers, a football announcer blasting through surround-sound speakers, and the faint twang of Christmas music radiating out from a speaker somewhere in the middle of it all.
Mixed with the pungent smell of sweat-soaked shoes and rosemary-scented turkey roasting in an oven, you reach out to grab hold of Jake’s arm – simply from the overwhelming amount of things happening all around you before you even see a single person.
“You good?” he murmurs, a shocking amount of concern etched onto his usually playful features.
“Mhmm,” you manage.
A warm hand eases its way onto the small of your back and you feel the madness fall into a pinpoint tunnel where it’s easily manageable and not so disconcerting.
“Never better,” said through a set of clenched teeth is all you can work up for him.
With another squeeze to his arm, you allow Jake to guide you – by the hand still on your lower back – down the front hall to the large open-plan living space. To your left, several women lean against the russet-colored cabinets, with glasses of dark red wine in hand and ringing laughs as short blonde-haired children weave their way through the space.
To the right, near the stone fireplace sits the majority of the men on overstuffed leather couches and recliners as they stare up, with rapt attention, at the game currently projected on the large flat screen mounted above the mantel.
“Uncle Jake!”
Your eyes lock onto the blur of yellow and red that comes charging toward you both. Stepping out of the fray, you watch as your companion drops to his knees to scoop up the girl with the maroon ribbons laced through her platinum hair.
“Kenna Kenna Kenna,” he grins, grabbing hold of the young girl around her waist as he hefts her up and swings her back and forth in his embrace.
A smile that you can’t seem to control graces your lips as you watch the scene play out.
Oh, the guys back on the carrier would kill to see this side of Hangman right now. What a privilege it was for you to bear witness to.
From over his shoulder, you’re presented with the curious brown eyes of the girl who then jabs her hand against Jake’s chest and demands:
“Who’s that?”
You watch as your companion’s grin slips down for just a brief second before he forces a tight smile.
“That,” comes the familiar voice of the older Seresin brother, who rises from one of the leather recliners with a beer in hand, and a too-smug smile on his face. “Is Uncle Jackie’s girlfriend.”
The girl gasps, staring up at Jake with a pure look of wonderment, “You have a girlfriend?”
Out of instinct alone, you wrap a hand around his right arm – encouraging the act from him.
“I do,” he nods at last, glancing over at you with those piercing green eyes. And then he’s laughing, dropping the girl back down onto her feet as he says, “God, when’d you get so big?”
“Probably sometime between your last visit and now.”
Your gaze snaps over to the woman in a denim blouse in the kitchen area, swirling her wine before she finishes it off.
If you had to take a guess...
“Jess,” he greets, short and to the point with a curt nod of his head.
Bingo.
As the girl, Kenna, skirts off to join the other kids currently hanging back by the patio doors near the massive Christmas tree, another man wanders over. Similar to Josh and Jake, he’s got dimpled cheeks, darker blonde hair, and a distinctive swagger to his walk.
“Hey man,” he claps Hangman on the shoulder, presenting him with a bottle of beer in his other hand. “Long time no fucking see. Look good though.”
Jake takes hold of the drink before he slinks his arm back around your waist, guiding you forward and into his side.
“Justin,” he nods, half in greeting, and half in explanation for your current confusion.
Ah, brother number two.
“And you’re the mysterious girlfriend,” his eyes slip past his brother to land firmly upon your face.
You offer your hand in return, along with your name.
“Never thought we’d see the day,” he grins in return. And then he’s backing away, gesturing toward the fridge, “Something to drink? Beer, wine, Coke?”
Surrounded by so many people who all seem to be particularly interested in scrutinizing your every move, you merely shake your head, “Think I’m good for now, thanks.”
Jake squeezes your side and you look to your left to see him already staring down at you with a soft smile. Emboldened by his apparent approval, you begin to make your rounds with him never far from reach.
You’re introduced, quickly, to Gwen. His bubbly stepmother with dark roots and straw-colored hair who hands you a glass of wine without taking no for an answer. She’s brightness personified and the definition of a doting host. Beside her stands a rather quiet fixture in the kitchen.
Marissa is the curly-haired young wife of Justin Seresin. She watches on with a bottle held between her chipped-red nails as Jess hollers at Kenna from across the room when she tries to drop a handful of slime on her uncle’s head.
The woman remains silent, though she holds an amused smile, as she watches the madness of her inlaws take place. There’s a brood of children that moves and weaves through the adults who remain largely indifferent to their antics.
From the countertop, where an array of appetizers are laid out, you watch as the two seven-year-old twins – Dawson and Dixon – gulf down scoops and scoops of bean dip. While their sister - Brynlee, as Jake’s stepmother manages to tell you over the noise of the get-together – seems content to cling to Marissa’s pant leg as she stares up at the towering adults overhead.
Your nerves begin to ease as a sort of familiar feeling washes over you. If you convinced yourself hard enough, you could almost pretend this was one of your mom’s extended family reunions.
Sure, you weren’t well-acquainted with everyone yet. But if you forced a good smile and made an effort to be courteous, you were sure you could get through the ordeal without tarnishing your wingman’s reputation.
Slowly, Jake guides you through the room, until, at last, you’re sat on the armrest of one of the leather recliners, watching with distant interest as the announcers recount the last play in the game before halftime.
“So, you gonna introduce us properly?”
Your eyes shift toward the couch where you spot the gray-haired tresses and stern sun-baked face of Daniel Seresin. Your companion, who had been standing off to the side of the living room speaking in quiet conversation with his eldest brother, seems to straighten up to full attention as if an admiral had just entered the room.
With a twinge of discomfort, your gaze tracks Jake as he strides over to you, a hand resting on your shoulder when he finally comes to a stop. You can feel his breath on your neck, the rise and fall of his chest against your back.
In a rigid tone bordering on inspection-line worthy, he introduces you by name and rank to his father.
A smile flits across the older man’s face as he beams up at you, rising from his lounged position on the couch to properly shake your hand. He looks the part of a typical rancher with his light-washed jeans and buttoned-down shirt tucked in with a flashy belt buckle.
“Real pleasure to meet you,” he grins. His hand is large, calloused by years of work. “I can’t tell you the last time Jake mentioned a girl catching his interest. Isn’t that right, buddy?”
You feel rather than hear the clipped mhmm that Jake gives in return. His gaze remains largely focused on the wall behind his father where an array of framed family photos resides. Never affording the man with the respect of holding his gaze.
Daniel claps your shoulder warmly and invites you to sit down with promises of their dinner being a real feast.
“She’s a saint, Gwen,” he tells you as you resume your position on the side of the armrest.
Jake, pointedly, slouches down in the actual recliner, his fingers wrapped around the neck of a bottle as he stares – unseeing – at the TV.
“Hell, damn near blew myself up last year with the fryer. Don’t think she’ll let me in the kitchen, will ya, honey?”
He shouts the last part, to be heard over the crowd. Followed by a ringing you bet your ass I won’t coming from the vicinity of the stove.
You watch as Josh shakes his head in amusement, cradling a wriggly toddler in his arms. But your attention ultimately falls to the man seated to the side of you. Lost in his thoughts, trapped in his own head.
Reaching down with a tentative hand, you squeeze his fingers with your own.
It takes a minute, but then those welcomed meadow-green eyes meet your gaze and you can almost see the momentary relief that crosses his face as he squeezes your hand in return.
Dinner at the Seresin house is a decidedly casual affair in comparison to the meal you had shared with Patricia the day before. Gwen dishes out the seasonal fixings onto Christmas-themed heavy-duty disposable plates. Accompanied by wrapped bundles of plastic cutlery in Santa Claus paper napkins.
Balancing your plate on your lap is a true feat of talent as you’re the main entry and exit point to the kitchen, still settled on the armrest beside Jake.
The nieces and nephews, all eight of them, are situated on the floor on a big fleece blanket that quickly becomes an absorbent towel for their stray food bits more than anything else. Your hostess has the foresight to turn the game down to a more reasonable level, though the noise in the living room is still on par with a jet engine firing.
You find yourself shouting to be heard whenever anyone graces you with a question, which isn’t many... at first.
“ - anyway, after he pulled them over,” Jess continues her story about her husband, Nick: the Statetrooper. “He told them that he – god damnit! MacKenna Jaymes, are you or are you not watching your sister?”
Your attention, involuntary, falls to the oldest grandchild who has a mouth full of food as she stares helplessly at her younger sister who’s let her plate slip and spill all over the blanket.
“Fucking Christ,” Jake scoffs in heated breath, too quiet for anyone besides you to hear. His anger isn’t directed at his niece, of course, but at his sister.
Shoving his plate onto the other armrest, he peels himself up from the chair and crouches down to the oblivious toddler who has orange cheese sauce all around her lips – which he wipes clean with a napkin.
Jess, for her part, rolls her eyes and continues on with a biting tone about children needing to take care of their own messes. But Jake merely scoops up the girl’s food and settles the plate back down on the floor in front of her with a gentle ruffle of her sweet blonde locks.
You hold his plate for him when he returns to the chair, running a hand through his own hair.
“Thanks, honey,” he says in a cadence so natural it almost makes you drop his plate.
When he’s settled, you chance a look at him before you find your gaze trailing over to the far too smug brother seated on the chair adjacent to yours.
“See? This is the shit I was talking about last night,” he waggles a finger between the two of you as an example.
“Dad, do you remember when he brought over that girl? God, Jackie, what was her fuckin’ name?” Josh perks up, sitting on the edge of the cushion as he grabs his father’s attention, and, inadvertently, Jake’s as well.
“Oh, gosh,” Daniel starts, slapping his knee in thought as he stares up at the ceiling for the answer.
After a beat, you hear the soft utterance of, “Sarah.”
You glance down at Jake who keeps his head bowed under the weight of old memories.
Josh snaps his fingers, “That’s it! Fucking head cheerleader wrapped around his damn finger and did he even spare the girl a glance? I swear to God, he - ”
“Christ, can you knock it off with the swearing already?” Jess snaps.
The mischievous brother merely grins at you in a way that seems to say you see what I’m dealing with here?
“Must be all that growing up that’s got you so enamored.”
Settling your hand on Jake’s left shoulder, you give him a reasurring squeeze. You’d already dealt with his brother’s annoying antics and personality last night, what was a few more hours of unending torture under a familial microscope?
He lets out a long ragged breath, but you can feel his shoulders loosen marginally.
You almost miss the biting sound of the Seresin sister when she mutters, “Doubt it.”
But Jake doesn’t.
And he latches on to it like an enemy target on his radar system.
“Something you wanna say?”
The room falls to a stifling silence like the distant whistle of a falling shell about to make impact. You fear for the fallout from the impending crater.
She has the audacity to look aghast, a hand held to her heart in surprise as she manages to finish off her potato salad in one quick bite.
“Jacob. If you can’t say something nice, you don’t say anything at all.”
“And yet you always manage,” comes his lightning-quick response.
“Well,” she drawls. “On a holy day like Christmas, I think you can find a way to keep your opinions sealed up.”
The other occupants watch the sparring of words like a tennis volley. But someone seems to have had enough.
“Oh, bless your heart dear!” Gwen says, standing quickly from her position on the couch beside her husband as she makes her way over to you. “You’re all out of casserole. Come on, now. Let’s get you fixed back up.”
Your chest tightens as you’re literally pulled to your feet by the determined woman, who quickly leads you into the depths of the kitchen. The words from the two siblings are still just as biting, but slowly the trickle of grandchildren also make their way into the kitchen.
Just another Christmas get-together for them as the grown-ups row.
As Gwen tops your plate to the point of sagging with more food, you watch MacKenna as she settles her younger sister on her hip while holding a hand on top of the toddler’s head.
“You’ve got your hands full,” you manage to say, hoping the smile you offer her isn’t tight with worry as the noise in the living room continues to grow.
The girl shrugs, as much as she can with a one-year-old in her arms. She tracks her siblings as they settle onto the hightop stools and begin to rummage through the lower cabinets.
Josh has his hands out as he tries to delegate between the bickering siblings, but Justin and Marissa just have the peace of mind to leave the scene altogether – also journeying over to the sanctuary of the kitchen.
“Don’t worry,” the eldest brother says to you, leaning on the counter as he carefully pushes his twin sons away from the bowl of Chex mix. “They always get into it when they’re together. Has nothing to do with you.”
“Oh,” is all you can say in return.
“Here, hun,” his wife says to the nine-year-old struggling to hold onto her baby sister any longer. “Give your arms a break.”
With a handful of chips in his mouth, Justin points at his wife, “We’re not having another one.”
She nods congenially, patting the baby’s back with her hand, “I know that.”
Jess is on her feet now, pointing a dangerous finger at Jake, but you feel rooted to the spot because this was never a discussed topic of possible scenarios between the two of you back at the hotel.
“Abandoning your fucking family because you have goddamn daddy issues. Get the fuck over yourself, Jacob!”
For all the hostility his sister throws his way, your companion remains level and coolheaded as always.
He stares up at her with a perfectly blank face, “Can’t go one damn holiday without throwing a tantrum can you?”
Gwen coughs, pulling your attention away for just a moment as she all but shoves a platter of cookies in your face.
“Want one? Got more than the two of us can eat here. I made peanut butter, peppermint, pecan – ”
“ - and you think you can just show up here like it’s all water under the bridge and everything’s fine and dandy just because you have a girl on your arm? That doesn’t make up for the last decade of your shit.”
You take a step toward the living room, where even Josh has shrunken down onto the couch with his head between his hands. Daniel remains completely stock still as he watches the seemingly one-sided fight drag on.
“Just ‘cause you found the first broad to give you the time of day, doesn’t mean you can just waltz in here and – ”
Before you can even register the words, Jake is on his feet.
Staring down at his sister with a heaving chest and balled fists.
You break away from the cluster of family members as you make your way to his side. Tentatively, you reach for his hand – easing his fingers away until you can entwine your hands together. His nostrils flare as words that have been building up since childhood begin to battle their way up to his lips, but it all comes to a halt when you murmur a gentle:
“Baby?”
With a slow turn of his head, he looks down at you – fight dissipating from his eyes as you squeeze his hand. Giving a gentle tug, Jake follows you over to the sliding doors of the back deck.
Behind you, you can hear Josh give an admonishing, “Never known when to close your massive fucking trap, do you?”
But you push aside the door and lead your wingman into the fresh afternoon air before you can hear her likely cutting response.
Having no real idea of the lay of the land, you pull him down the back steps and find yourself traversing a small pebble path around the back of the house. Jake, still in a state of silence, allows you to guide him forward without so much as a peep.
Near the back wooden cattle fence dividing the backyard from the actual farm property, you stop under the shade of a large tree. The billowing branches bring not only cool shade but a sense of privacy away from the prying eyes of the bickering family inside.
Releasing your grip on his hand, Jack takes a few unsteady steps forward before he drops down onto a faded old wooden porch swing. It creaks under his weight but seems sturdy enough as he eases his heels into the ground and pushes back and forth.
You stand there, staring out at the vast fields for a long long moment before you hear your name whispered into the breeze.
Turning back to your wingman, you take a seat beside him, your knees brushing as he continues to make the old swing sway.
Out here, if you close your eyes, you can almost imagine you’re in the cockpit on a smooth return flight. The only noise comes from the gentle breeze drooping over the tall grass that bends like ripples in the water.
But your attention ultimately falls to your friend. With his knuckles gripped white on his knees, his head bowed down with his shoulders hunched high to protect him.
This version of Hangman would never be seen by your squadron, nor would it ever be mentioned.
With a steadying breath, your voice cracking as you force out the words, you say, “I have a soft spot for disco music.”
It takes a second for the words to register, but Jake slowly lifts his head and stares at you with pure confusion.
“What?”
“Disco. It’s my... thing? And I’m swearing you to fucking secrecy, Bagman. But... I belt out ABBA songs when I’m alone. Donna Summers too.”
The making of a grin begins to form on the corner of his lips.
“I’ve got it bad for the Bee Gees.”
His brow raises ever so slightly.
“Do those private serenades also include a dance number?”
With a bark of laughter, you tuck your hands between your knees as he rocks you further back on the wide swing.
“Oh, absolutely.”
When you look up, you find his eyes narrowed and scrutinizing. But not in a harsh way. More like you were a puzzle he was just only now figuring out the missing pieces of.
“Why are you telling me this?”
Giving a shrug, you say, “Because I wanted to. Also, no one will ever believe you.”
There’s a beat of silence before his lips tug up into a radiant smile that has him shaking his head.
“God damnit, you’re right.”
You let your left shoulder bump into his right as his laughter slowly ebbs away to silence once again.
He spares the house a furrowed expression before he lets out a slow exhale of breath.
“This thing,” he starts, twisting his watch back and forth on his wrist. “Between me and Jess, it goes back years.”
“You don’t have to explain it,” you assure him with a soft utterance.
But he presses forward despite it.
“Josh and Justin were already out by the time things got bad. Just me and her in the house. Not that she paid much mind. She was ‘bout to graduate and I was just some snot-nosed ten-year-old.”
He eases into the swing, dipping his head back over the headrest to stare up at the swaying green leaves above the two of you. You find yourself turning to face him, pulling your left knee up onto the seat.
“Mom started drinking ‘round then after she found out he was fucking his bowling buddy. Had been, for the last two years or so. But Jess didn’t know that shit, just saw Mom passed out on the couch with an empty bottle on the floor.”
Jake shakes his head, pushing away the memory.
“They never said it to my face, but I know. I was the save the marriage baby.”
“Jake...”
Offering you a tight grimace, he continues.
“Spoiled as hell, got whatever I wanted and then some. Private school, the works. Brothers didn’t care much, but Jess...” he trails off.
Your hand settles onto his forearm, offering a squeeze of comfort when your own words fail you. He dips his chin in return, welcoming the touch of familiarity.
“That’s what I meant by it the other day. They sided with him and I went along with her because I found out what was really happening. Don’t get me wrong, Gwen’s a good lady and the two of them are better off divorced. But... put a wedge between me and the three of them.”
Clearing your throat, you ask, “Is that why you left to join up?”
“Yeah,” he nods. “Couldn’t fucking stand to be around either of them by the time I graduated. Just wanted to start over, do something for myself on my own terms.”
And then he scrubs his palm over his face, wincing as he does so.
“Christ, I don’t know why I’m fucking telling you any of this.”
“I said you didn’t have to, you know,” you nudge him with a teasing tone.
With a look of pure exasperation, he holds his hands out like a confession, “Got me bleeding my heart out here like I’m Freeze or something, Pits.”
“Eh,” you sigh, twisting your body to pull up both of your legs onto the bench – only to deposit them both right across Jake’s lap with little fanfare. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of it.”
Something funny flits over his features for a moment before he places his hand over your calf and resumes his gentle rocking of the swing.
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Eventually, you both manage to peel yourselves off the swing and wander back into the house. Jake says something about being completely okay with ditching the whole thing and heading back to the rental car. But you have to remind him that your shoes are still currently lost in the massive pile in the front entryway.
He then tries to convince you to leave them, going so far as to say he’ll buy you a new pair before your flight.
But, reluctant as he is, you walk hand-in-hand back into the house. You get lost in the excitement of the kids who want to open up all their presents right this very second and it seems like, for the moment at least, the fight has been put on hold to allow the true joy of Christmas to take place.
Though Jake and his sister remain on opposite sides of the room for the entire duration of the madness that is eight kids scrambling to unwrap their numerous presents the fastest.
While Justin plays the role of gift hander-outer, Jess lounges on a barstool in the kitchen, watching the mess play out with a stink eye. Jake, for all his hold-ups on the day, also drops to his knees to help the younger nieces unwrap their gifts.
Which leaves you, surprisingly, with a small bundle of drooling baby in your arms since her own mother would rather watch from afar than interact with her own children.
June is happy to suck on the left foot of her new stuffed buddy, lounging out in your lap as you rock the recliner back and forth. Jake shoots you several amused glances before he gets tugged into the decidedly un-fun realm of opening up all the plastic-wrapped toys for the kids.
The living room floor is heaped with wrapping paper and ribbons, loose twist ties, and chunks of cardboard and plastic molds by the time he returns to your side. This time, he’s the one resting on the armrest as he gently taps the snoozing baby’s foot with his fingers.
“Out like a light.”
“No better way to celebrate the day,” you agree.
The sleeping babe must be used to the chaos that is the Seresin family, as her siblings and cousins run amok with their new toys that beep and jingle. Tiny feet thundering against the hardwood floors as they zoom up and down the long hallway separating the living area from the rest of the house.
“Now that’s a picture if I’ve ever seen one.”
You lift your gaze to Gwen as she rounds the corner, a wine glass in hand as she settles in next to Daniel on the couch across from the three of you.
“Think you two will ever settle down stateside?” he asks with a true glimmer of hope in his graveled voice.
Jake winces, hand falling to your inner thigh for support.
“I, uhm, I could never ask Jake to put his career on hold for that,” you find yourself saying.
“Same for you,” he adds a second later.
Gwen, for her part, gives an understanding nod – settling a hand on her husband’s arm to stifle the topic down.
“How long have you two been flying together?”
Your wingman seeks out your gaze as the two of you mentally run through the tangle of memories.
“Three, almost four years now?”
“Mhmm.”
“And what set this all off, if you don’t mind me prying?”
Jake clears his throat, and you have to turn your head to hide the beginnings of laughter that bubble up to the surface. He shifts his weight, draping his right arm over the back of the chair, a finger playfully tugs at the fabric of your shirt.
“It was after a mission debrief. Fourteen hours, dead on our feet,” the story, completely fabricated, comes to him with a true sense of ease.
“And, I dunno. Everyone was shuffling outta the room and I just looked over and saw Pita and thought...”
At the pause, you turn your face to look up at him only to find his softened eyes seeking you out.
“Wow. I can’t have this girl out of my life.”
That piercing expression nearly takes your breath away and you want to applaud Jake for his terrific acting on the fly.
Pulling your gaze back to the seated couple, you add, in jest, “I’m sure my greasy hair and flight suit was what did it for him.”
“Hundred percent!” he grins, tugging a strand of your hair.
At some point, the others filter back into the room and Marissa kindly takes the snoozing June from you. You have to shake out your arms just to return the blood circulation. Who knew kids that little could be that heavy?
And while you get lost in the rushed conversation of two seven-year-olds trying to tell you all about the mechanical workings of their new RC cars, Daniel pushes up from the couch and weaves his way over to Jake, before saying something in his ear. You can feel the way he goes rigid as he slips his arm away from you and slowly stands and follows after his father.
You watch as the two men disappear down the hall, toward one of the bedrooms or office from the looks of it. A cold dredge of worry washes over you, cooling your insides and twisting your stomach into another uncomfortable slosh of concern. He had just started smiling again.
“He’s really got you bad, doesn’t he?”
Pulling your gaze away from the empty hall, you find the piercing eyes of Josh inspecting your face as he leans across his chair to speak to you.
“You. You’re worried about him.”
“Comes with the job,” you say.
A smirk tugs his lips into a twisted look as he too glances down the hallway.
“He’ll be fine. Little testy with whatever Dad’s about to try pulling. Won’t be too surprised if that’s the end of our little visit.”
Your brows pinch, “That bad?”
He chuckles, easing back into his recliner, “Always.”
You try to focus on the happy children occupied with their new toys and the soft lull of the TV sportscaster, but you find your primary focus pulled toward the long empty hallway.
He had told you all about the history between him and his old man, both in the backyard confessional an hour prior and the day you arrived in Austin. Yet now your mind was conjuring up worse and worse scenarios of what was happening in a closed-door room several feet away.
Another few minutes pass where you try your best to ignore what could be transpiring a few yards away, but the sound of a door opening followed by a pleading voice saying:
“Jacob, come on now. Jake. Jake.”
You crane your head just in time to see your companion striding down the hallway, directly toward you – pushing both Justin and Gwen gently out of his way. You’re on your feet by the time he reaches you and before you can even ask are you okay, he’s grabbing hold of your arm.
“Think we’re done here, sweetheart.”
Trying to get a read from his expression alone is useless, so you merely nod in return.
“Okay.”
As Jake directs you toward the entryway once again, with a trail of family members walking a few steps behind you both in silent anticipation, Daniel Seresin finally makes a reappearance.
Scrubbing a hand over his face, he just shakes his head in return to his wife’s questioning look.
Hangman can’t seem to move fast enough, even as the nieces creep past you to get to him.
“Are you leaving now, Uncle Jake?”
“When am I gonna see you again?”
He’s halfway between tying his left boot when he looks up at the little faces curled with worry and childhood innocence. Frozen, unable to find the right words to explain his hasty escape as he peers up and over their heads at his father standing silently at the end of the hall.
“Oh, that’s my fault, I’m afraid,” you say, leaning down to grab your own boots as three braided-blonde heads turn to look up at you.
“We need to hurry to the airport to catch our flight, don’t we, honey?”
A flash of gratitude in his eyes and a slow exhale has Jake nodding, quick to play along to your tune.
“That’s right, sweetheart. We have to go see Pita’s family now. Wouldn’t be fair to keep her away on Christmas, yeah?”
Shelby clings to his leg, her face squished into his thigh as she murmurs, “But I’ll miss you.”
Jake shoots you a clear help me look, but your rescue comes in the shape of Josh Seresin who swoops in and collects the five-year-old up into his arms.
“I’m sure you’ll hear from Uncle Jackie soon. Won’t you?”
Your companion gives a fast nod, “That’s right, kiddo. Soon as we’re back on the carrier, I’m gonna call you right up.”
The little girl peers over her uncle’s shoulder and you meet her soft gaze.
“And Pita too?”
Jake almost laughs, but he curves it into a smile instead.
“Yeah, her too, honey.”
Oh, your breakup in a few weeks was gonna be fun to talk through with a kindergartner.
Pushing that thought from your head, you righten your boot into place and fall back into Jake’s easy embrace, his hand finding a too-familiar spot on your waist.
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The drive back to the city is shared in silence with only the familiar Christmas tunes from the radio there to fill the void between you both. And even then, the holiday spirit has already seeped out of the vehicle and into the vast countryside. No amount of classic jingles could fix that at this point.
When you arrive back at the hotel, it’s as though you’re waiting for the missile to hit. That weapon of course being Jake himself.
But the man in question is as silent as ever as he drops down onto the edge of his bed. Too tired to even remove his boots as you carefully tread around him to take care of your own shoes.
His silence makes you even more cautious in your moves, tiptoeing across the carpet to your bag and back again. Afraid to make any noise that could set him off. Oh, you could handle the fallout, of course. You’re just not sure if he could at this point.
When you emerge from the bathroom, now dressed in your sleepwear, Jake is lying flat on his back with his legs hanging over the edge. His eyes open and staring, almost unseeing, at the popcorn ceiling.
After spending a moment to assess your situation, you unceremoniously flop down on the bed beside him, a hand plopping down on his right knee.
And there you sit, in the stillness of the hotel room for a series of long-passing minutes. You watch the steady rise and fall of his chest, curling your fingers tighter and then looser on his jean-clad knee. Until, at last, he speaks.
“Should have never did this to you.”
You wait until his eyes land on you before you respond.
“Oh, fuck off, Bagman.”
It takes a second, but he eases up onto his elbows.
“I’m serious. Yesterday with my mom was one thing. But this shit? Today? God,” he drags a hand down his face in annoyance.
Releasing a breath, you lay down beside him on the bed. He stares down at you for a long moment before he falls back down next to you.
“I told you, I don’t care. I agreed to this entire insane endeavor and I told you I was gonna see it through no matter what. So, lose the bullshit grief, and don’t worry about me.”
Tugging on the loose fabric of his seafoam-colored button-down, you give him the space to respond or not. Hell, you were gonna be the last person to try and press the man for anything right now.
“I just...” he exhales, resting a hand on his chest. “I dragged you across the country, away from your own damn family, just to do this.”
Rising up slightly so you can stare down at him, you retort, “Which I agreed to. If I didn’t want to do this for you, do you honestly think you could force me to do any of this? Honestly?”
Jake glances back at the ceiling before a smile graces his lips.
“Hell no.”
“Exactly,” you reply, dropping back down.
“Well... at least it’s over.”
You hum in response.
Come morning, you would take the rental car back to the airport and board separate flights. You up to Michigan and Jake back to California. You would enjoy a family-filled holiday and he would be...
Your stomach turns at the thought.
Alone.
After everything that had transpired over the past forty-eight hours, after all that he was dragged through. Jake would be alone come Christmas day. Alone with his own damn thoughts and whatever reemerged trauma that came with this particular visit produced.
Maybe that’s why, after several more minutes have passed you both by, that you turn toward him and say:
“Do you... I don’t – well, that is to say, uhm...”
You can feel the look he gives you but you have to crane your neck back to properly look him in the eyes. There’s something there in the meadow green of his irises that emboldens you – allowing the words to come easily.
“Jake, would you like to come home with me for Christmas?”
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ohtobeleah · 6 months
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Sixth Sense // Mickey Garcia
Summary: A freak accident occurs at the Hard Deck and Fanboy is faced with the challenge of being left to care for you, his not so official girlfriend.
Warnings: Mickey Garcia x F!reader. Hurt/Comfort. Gas explosion resulting in hearing and vision loss.
Word Count: 1.7k
Author Note: Day Three of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Sensory Deprivation. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.
Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist
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“Holy shit, what the hell was that?” It all happened so fast, so fast in fact that the explosion that ricocheted through the Hard Deck didn’t register a sound until a few seconds after the fact. 
Patrons laid strewn across the bar, ducking for cover under tables and bars. Glass from the windows had sliced unsuspecting patrons as it blew apart from the force of the blast. Food and beverages littered the floor, thrown in the panic of the moment as all inside ducked. 
“Everybody okay?” Jake Seresin stayed shielding Natasha Trace with his entire body. “Is anyone hurt?” His arms pinned her down against the hardwood floor at either side of her head. Seconds ago—they’d been arguing over a long standing disagreement over who could tie more Cherry stems with just their tongue in three minutes. Now, Phoenix had never been this close to a man she could hardly stand. 
“Yeah—we’re good!” Rooster replied as he looked around, he’d been knocked on his ass by the bast. Coyote was right beside him, as was Payback. The three of them had been indulging in a game of darts to see who could knock Hangman down a peg or two on the leaderboard. “Bob? Fanboy? You guys okay?” 
“I think we’re alright?” Bob groaned as he pushed himself up off the ground—peanuts were crushed all over the ground around him. Mickey sat back on his knees scanning the Hard Deck. He couldn’t see you. There was a small cut on the side of Mickey's face but other than an artificial flesh wound, he was relatively unscathed from the unsuspecting blast that had pummeled through the Hard Deck. 
“Anyone seen Y/n?” Fanboys eyes continued to scour the entire expanse of the Hard Deck as he rose to his feet and dusted himself off. “Yo, guys—anyone see Miss Barkeep?” 
“She was heading out back to help the gas guy change out the—“ Bob didn’t even need to finish his sentence before he’d connected the dots. “Oh god, Y/n.”
A gas explosion. 
Mickey took a few seconds to register where his best friend's mind had gone, but then he realised. In those few seconds where Fanboy couldn’t breathe he knew he couldn’t live without you before he had a chance to really have you. 
Sure, the two of you were friendly. Probably more than most friends would be. Sure, you sometimes spent the night in Mickey's bed after he’d stay back and help you shut the Hard Deck up. Sure, he spent lazy Sunday mornings with you in the kitchen making breakfast and drinking coffee more often than not. And sure, the two of you enjoyed each other’s company, blatantly flirted beyond belief and made sure to always text each other when you got home, finished work, and stole secret kisses here and there when it was just the two of you. But. You weren’t official. 
And that may have been Mickey Garcia's biggest mistake. 
“Y/n!?” There you were. “Oh my god!” Lying unconscious on the ground a few meters away from where the gas bottles were kept behind the Hard Deck. Penny kept a tight ship—they were locked behind a wire cage that made sure patrons couldn’t fuck around. Something must have gone wrong during the change over, because the gas man wasn’t too far away from you. 
“Hey—hey!?” Mickey was by your side in an instant, the second his eyes caught your body lying there—thrown away and discarded like you weren’t the most important person to him, he was by your side. “Amor? Can you hear me?” 
Rooster had already called for paramedics to attend the scene while Hangman and Phoenix had begun to do whatever they could with their advanced first aid training—using the Hard Decks first aid kit to fix small cuts and abrasions on patrons from lying shards of glass. 
“Y/n?” You had a pulse, Mickey knew that much. But you weren’t waking up. “Please—come on Amor, you gotta wake up for me.” 
“This guys dead—“ Payback calls out. Mickey's mind fills with worst case scenarios the longer you were down for. “He’s got no pulse and the back of his head’s cracked.” He’s an ex paramedic, he knows. “I'm gonna start chest compressions, see if I can bring him back, how’s the kid?” 
You weren’t just shy of Fanboys age, he was the youngest in the group after all. Top of his class, intellectually gifted enough to graduate highschool three years earlier than most ever would. But to Paybacks forty one? You were still a child, in his mind anyway. 
“She’s breathing.” Is all he says before your stirrings. “Hold on! I think she’s waking up!” There’s nothing but a ringing in your ear. A sharp high pitched buzzing that’s incessant and ear piercing. You groan at the sound as you try to blink away the clouded vision that’s plaguing your eyes. But nothing can get rid of the thick fog like blur. “Y/n—it’s me, you’re okay, I’ve got you—“  But you can’t make out who it is. You can’t hear anything but that annoying ringing that won’t go away. Your head hurts, holy shit what the hell happened? 
“I—“ You stutter out. “I can’t see.” It sends Mickey's heart racing inside his chest, even more so than it already was. “I—I can’t see—“ You can't even hear yourself talking so you just assume you’re talking far too quiet. But in reality you're screaming, screaming so loud you’re straining your neck. “I CAN'T HEAR!” 
“Hey—I’ve got you.” Mickey doesn’t know what else to do besides try and calm you while medics make their way around the Hard Deck. “I love you, yeah?” Payback hears Mickey say it before you ever do and his heart breaks. You don’t deserve this. Neither does Fanboy. “You’re gonna be alright Amor, I’m right here.” 
But all you do is cry. You can’t hear a single thing being spoken or see a single thing in front of you. All there is before you are shadows of light and darkness. Mickey's hands squeeze yours and you feel it. His signet ring—the one his Abuela brought him many moons ago. But you know in the darkness and uncertainty that it’s Mickey at your side. 
“If she’s lost senses, Mick, it's gonna be a head trauma of some sort.” Payback keeps going with his chest compressions. “Is there any sign of blood?” You squeeze Mickey's hand a little harder as he goes to pull away to check. You squeeze so hard that he can’t let go, you’re far too afraid of being left alone in the dark. “Fanboy?”
“I—I dunno, probably! She probably hit her head on the ground!” Mickey manages to wiggle free just one of his hands so he can push your hair out of your face. “Shhh—I’m right here.” He tries to soothe you once again, but your cries are just too heartbreaking. “Amor, I am right here with you—I’ve got you.” 
“Please don’t let me die here alone.” Was all you mumbled out. You didn’t know what Mickey was saying or if he was saying anything at all. The ringing was all too deafening. But when you begged him to stay, to not leave your side. Mickey's heart shattered into a million different pieces. “Please don’t leave me.” 
“I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here.” He traced your face with his fingers, just letting you know he was there with you. Your grip on his hand began to falter as you slipped into unconsciousness again, just trying to find some shelter from the ringing. “I’m right here with you.” 
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~
“Without the surgery your daughter might regain her vision but it’s only a slim chance Mrs Y/l/n—“ Doctor Perry spoke to the woman on the other end of your phone. Mickey had called her on your behalf from the other side of the country, she was already packing her things for the flight she’d booked to be by your side. “I’d say it’s barely twenty percent.” 
“What about with the surgery?” Mickey asked as his eyes looked over you. You looked too peaceful to be in this situation. You knew he was there just by his touch alone. He made sure you knew it was him by his ring as he ran his thumb across your palm. “What’s the odds of her getting her vision back with the surgery?” 
“Almost one hundred percent—if the surgery were to go well. If it doesn’t then she runs the risk of being permanently incapacitated for the rest of her life.” Doctor Perry was a little too blunt for Mickey's liking, but he appreciated the direct route. “She’ll regain her hearing, hopefully, her ear drums were significantly damaged in the blast but they should recover.” 
“Do the surgery.” Your mother barked on the other side of the phone. “My daughter can’t be deaf and blind—what type of future would she have then? What kind of quality of life would she have?” Mickey couldn’t take his eyes off you as you slept. It was better this way, to keep you sedated. That way you couldn’t panic. But he thought about it while the doctor droned on to your mother about the surgery, that no matter the outcome you’d have a life with him. He’d take care of you—learn how to adapt, help you with anything you ever needed. Do anything you ever needed him to do. 
A freak accident that took away two of your six senses shouldn’t be the reason your life ends. You were still alive and oh how Mickey Garcia was grateful to whatever God was on duty that day. 
“Mrs Y/ln?” Mickey interrupted as he turned the phone back his way. Your mother silenced herself mid sentence to listen to what Mickey had to say. “I know we haven’t formally met before but I just want you to know that I’ve been head over heels in love with your daughter since she served me for the first time.” He explained all the while his eyes never left your perfect face. A face he really wouldn’t mind waking up to every day. “And I know there’s a hell of a lot of uncertainty about what may come, but I just want you to know that her quality of life doesn’t diminish if her sight can’t be restored or her hearing doesn’t improve.” Mickey could feel the tears streaming down his cheeks as he squeezed your hand, and as much as he wished none of this ever happened, he knew he couldn’t leave you know. Not ever. 
“I’ve got her ma’am—“ 
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***
Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt
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topgunslut · 1 year
Text
rescued (part 1)
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pairing: jake ‘hangman’ seresin x f!reader, established relationship
read part two here!
cw: near-drowning, protective jake, slight panic, probably drowning inaccuracies, paramedics, crying, loving penny <3, jake being an asshole, probably navy inaccuracies, hospital, undressing infront of a doctor, slight medical terminology 
requests are open! 
the football drifted farther into the wet sand as the wave pulled the tide back, getting ready to crash. you chased the oblong ball as it rolled back with the current.
it was dog-fight football day. after the uranium mission, the dagger squad made it a weekly occurrence to play offense and defense at the same time in front of the hard-deck.
usually, you and penny sat on a blanket on the sand, having a small picnic while gawking at your boyfriends, respectfully. but today you decided to join in on the game, which everyone, especially jake, had been begging you to do.
the football halted when it met a rock, and you reached down to grab it.
“y/n!” urgent screams from the shore bounced into your ears.
confusion was written over your face but it soon disappeared as you looked up at the massive wave that towered over you. as if it were in slow motion, you watched as the wave descended right onto you. your body plummeted to the ground, knocking the wind out of you. on cue, you tried gasping for air but instead ocean water filled your throat.
that was the last thing your remembered until you felt somebody carrying you bridal style back up to the shore. “y/n, open your eyes for me,”
you started coughing aggressively, the salty water going all over your chest or spilling back into the ocean. jake, who you figured out was carrying you let out a relieved sigh as he continued the short walk back to the rest of the gang.
your throat burned not only at the seawater coming back up, but also embarrasment from your stupidity. hiccups combined with sobs and coughing were definitely not pleasant on their own but when combined, it felt like you were slipping under the waves again.
“put. me. down!” you managed to get out with the cocktail of emotions and physical reactions in your way. you wanted to just act like whatever just happened didn’t, you just fell jokingly and jake ‘saved’ you, showing his heroic side.
“not a chance, sweetheart” his words caused you to start flailing around, trying to get free of his grip while more panic to set in. his grip around your frail frame got stronger.
“stop moving, you’re going to hurt yourself,” jake scolded you, sounding angry and it did nothing but make you feel more embarrassed. your plan would have fallen through anyways because penny was already on the phone with the paramedics and the dagger squads concerned faces met yours.
jake set you down on your towel that was already laid on the sand from your earlier attempt to soak up the sun. the sun was about to set and jake had his raybans ontop of his dirty blonde hair, getting a better look at you. he brought his lips down to the top of your wet head, pressing a small kiss into your salty roots.
“yeah, she’s concious,” penny spoke into the phone. you were grateful for the group of friends that you had and for the fact that they stayed calm in high stress situations juxtapose to yourself.
immediately your bloodshot eyes went to find the eyes of the man who pulled you out of the water, jake but instead they met with everyone elses. you groaned and tried to speak but nothing came out but small coughs. phoenix came up behind you and gently rubbed your back.
you hissed when the adreneline lowered and you felt a sharp pain in your thigh, glancing down to see a long scrape that had yet to be bleeding. thankfully it didn’t go any deeper than the dried skin on your leg, but it still hurt like a bitch.
jake had appeared, sitting behind you on your towel so you could lean on him.
“there you go,” jake gently rubbed your arms. maverick popped a squat in front of you, with a tiny flashlight in his hand. he shined in it each of your eyes, making you see spots.
“pupils are PEARL,” he said. after the uranium mission, maverick thought it was a good idea to get everyone in the dagger squad some sort of medical training. he had already had some, from being in the navy for so long.
“i’m fine, i promise, guys,” you said hoarsly, “i just took a little bit of a tumble!”
“a tumble my ass, you nearly drowned! you went unconscious for fucks sake,” jake said, his tone making you feel like an idiot. for some reason, jake had been acting cold.
“tumble or not, the emts will be here in a few,” maverick said, tucking the flashlight back into the small first aid kit.
soon enough, the paramedics parked on the street and after a few examinations, they instructed jake to take you to urgent care so that you could be seen by a provider. he decided he and maverick just take you over to miramar where he could get you right in at the infirmary.
you sat up in the hospital bed, looking at all the ivs in your arm, anxiously waiting for the scan results. your grumpy boyfriend who went outside to talk to maverick didn’t help. based on his attitude, you wouldn’t be surprised if he just left.
“how’re you holding up?” penny walked past the curtain with a bottle of apple juice and your phone in her hand. you eyed your phone.
on cue, the infirmary doctor walked in and scanned his card on in the computer, logging him in. “y/n, how are you feeling?” he continued to type a few things into the computer.
“horrible, like i got hit by a big fat bus,” you whined. penny set the apple juice and your phone down on a near table and felt your forehead. her motherly instinct was enough to make you at least try to smile.
“i’m sorry, that’s usually normal. you’re very lucky you got out of there. when you were pulled out of the water, do you remember coughing up fluid?” he asked, rolling over to the bed on his stool on wheels whilst pulling his stethoscope off and putting the tops in his ears. you nodded.
“just going to listen to your lungs, make sure there isn’t any unwanted fluid in there. can i ask you to slip the top of your gown off?”  
you didn’t care that some man was going to probably be looking at your tits but the cold man who would soon walk through the door sure did. you were too exhausted to feel uncomfortable or awkward, it was purely medical.
without much effort, you pulled one of the strings in the back of your hospital gown and the top of you was left uncovered. the slight chill of the hospital made your nipples stiff which was to say the least a little embarrassing but it wasn’t like you were turned on.
he pressed the cold metal piece just below your left breast and then your right, instructing you to take a few deep breaths. in the midst of your second deep breath, the door swung open to reveal a not so calm jake.
he didn’t know how to feel once he saw you but he slowly shook his head at you with a glare, that felt like an arrow shot into your fragile, already cracked heart. you looked away from him.
“alright, your lungs sound nice and clear,” the doctor grabbed a freshly printed paper from the hidden printer next to the computer and scanned the results. “matches your ct scan results perfectly.”
penny helped you tie your hospital gown back on.
“everything looks normal, i’ll get the nurse to help you with your ivs and your discharge papers,” the doctor walked out of the room, making sure to sign out of the computer.
“tylonol will be your best friend for the next 48 hours. if you still have aches in three day, pop back in and we’ll see what’s going on,” the nurse carefully removed the ivs and gave you the clipboard with the papers proclaiming your discharge. you gave her a forced but grateful smile as she left.
you swung your legs over the side of the hospital bed to get into the clothes that penny had grabbed from your house before she came by.
“i’ll give you two some privacy,” penny stepped out, leaving you with jake. aches flooded your body as you stood to grab the clothes but you put on a brave face even though your eyes prickled with tears.
minus the bra, you eventually got dressed while jake stayed leaning against the wall, watching you the entire time. “you just want to show the whole world your tits, huh?” jake mumbled while he grabbed your hand, helping you get up. that was the last straw.
“i’ll be at pennys for the next few days,” you said, frustrated with your boyfriend, opting out of staying in your shared home. the best you could, you walked out of the hospital room.
by the time jake followed after you, you and penny had left.
let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! 
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babyonboard · 2 years
Note
if you get time could i have a fluffy maverick x reader please :)
omg absolutely, thank you for requesting <3
REQUESTS ARE OPEN FOR TOP GUN
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The bathroom light creeped under the door and into your bedroom. Maybe it was the light, or the absence of Pete in your bed that made you wake up. Even with a huge blanket tucked around you, you could already feel how cold the room was. A glance at the alarm clock and out the window told you that it was 4 in the morning, the sun wasn’t even up yet. Pete had a lot of early mornings like this, one of the very few downsides to dating him. Now that you were awake, there was really no turning back to try and fall back asleep before he left. You looked around the room for some clothes to throw on, you were too cold to be naked any longer. With only a small amount of light illuminating the room, you couldn’t see any clothes on the floor.
“Babe?” You called with hopes he would bring you a sweatshirt. No answer. “Baby?… Babyyyyy”
Still, no answer. “Pete? Lt. Pete Maverick Mitchel, I’m cold, please bring me clothes.” You we’re almost shouting. He still didn’t answer. All that time in a loud fighter jet must finally be getting to his ears.
You climbed out of bed, but kept your blanket wrapped tightly around you. You waddled up to the bathroom, opening the door. He was brushing his teeth at the sink, his eyes lit up when you walked in.
“Hi baby.” He slurred through the toothpaste. His hair was slick and wet from taking a shower and his face was cleanly shaven. He had nothing but a towel around his waist. You walked over to him and opened your blanket to hug him, completely disregarding that you were naked. Neither of you said a word as you wrapped him in the blanket with you, his chest warm against your cool face. He moved his arms around your shoulders and finished brushing his teeth. When he was done, you were almost asleep in his arms.
He hugged you with his cheek set on top of your head. “Why are you up baby?”
You shrugged. “I missed you.”
He chuckled. He picked you up and wrapped your legs around his waist. He was silent as he brought you back to the bed and set you down in it. He removed the blanket from around you, earning a small whine. He placed it back over you, then put the comforter over that. He tucked the blankets into your sides and sat on the edge of the bed. He stroked your hair for a moment, pushing hair away from your forehead.
“Stay here, Pete.” You mumbled.
His hand didn’t stop moving along your hair as he responded, “I have to go, Y/N.”
You groaned slightly. He leaned down and kissed your forehead. “I’ll be back before you know it. Now go back to sleep.” His lips feathered against yours in the softest, gentlest kiss.
You nodded. “I love you.” You whispered.
“I love you too.”
He got up and you dozed off while he dressed for the day. By the time you woke up again, he was gone. Sitting up in bed, you looked around. Next to you sat a sweatshirt and sweatpants with a post-it note on top.
I’ll see you at 3. Here are some clothes since you seem to be lacking in that department. I love you baby.
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bradshawswife · 2 years
Text
Play it Again | B.B
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based on Play it Again by Luke Bryan (just heard it on the radio and instantly thought of Bradley lol)
w/c: 2,507.
description: You and your friend visit her boyfriend, whos stationed in San Diego. While at a party, a tall sandy brunette haired Aviator takes a special interest in you.
pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x fem!reader
warnings: some suggestive themes, allusions to sex towards in the middle & towards the end. MINORS DNI 🔞 please. Bradley is adorable as ever.
a/n: one of my favorite songs ever and I just NOW realized this would work wonderfully with Bradley.
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You and your bestfriend were from out of town visiting her boyfriend of a few years, on a whim. Her boyfriend was a naval aviator who was stationed here in Miramar, San Diego, more known as "Fighter town USA". You practically knew everything about him because your friend wouldn't shut up. And here you were, on the back of her boyfriends truck, all alone. Despite the fact that there were dozens of people surrounding you, the feeling of loneliness, due to knowing no one besides your friend and her beau, was overwhelming.
Peering up from your drink, which you resorted to staring at rather than look at everyone having fun, you notice a tall, sandy brown haired man with the stupidest mustache you've ever seen, stare at you. After about 2 minutes of noticing him stare you down, you looked behind you, wondering if his friend or girlfriend was behind you. Nope, no one. He was still looking at you.
Bradley got invited to his friend, Jakes, party one night. They rarely got together after work, but Jake emphasized that Bradley must meet his girlfriend. Hesitantly, he obliged. After meeting her, she mentioned that she brought a friend and before Bradley knew it, 1 drink quickly turned into more.
♬ She was sittin' all alone over on the tailgate
♬ Tan legs swingin' by a Georgia plate
♬ I was lookin' for her boyfriend
♬ Thinkin', "No way she ain't got one"
He found his way through the crowd, stopping a few feet away from Jakes truck. He noticed one of the most beautiful girls ever, sitting on the back of his tailgate, drinking from her solo cup. Her legs were swinging back and forth. She proceeded to focus on her drink, not engaging with anyone. How could a pretty girl be all alone like this, he thought. Quickly figuring out this was Jake's girlfriends friend, he proceeded to eye her up wondering if he should go sit with her. She looked pretty lonely. He assumed you knew no one else here, which was accurate. After a few minutes she turned around, probably looking for someone. She looked confused as to why he was staring at her.
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♬ Soon as I sat down I was fallin' in love
♬ Tryin' to pour a little sugar in her Dixie cup
After Bradley worked up the courage to walk up to one of the prettiest ladies he's ever laid his eyes on, he quickly made haste and sat down next to her on the tailgate.
You were beyond confused as to why this hunk of a man sat down next to you rather than all the other prettier girls, but you decided to not question it much, and just let this once and a lifetime experience happen to you. Having guys come up to you like this or pay even a little bit of attention to you was rare to say the least. You only had 1 serious relationship, which you felt was embarrassing seeing as it's been years since you've been in bed with anyone.
"Hey pretty girl, what's your name?" he asks, as your cheeks go bright red at the compliment. How was this happening to you? He's even more beautiful up close. Continuing to stare at your cup, which is nearly empty despite savoring it for this long so you wouldn't have to get up.
"Y/N," you say shyly, "What's yours?"
"Rooster" he says, grinning.
"Rooster? Did your mother not like you or something?" you ask, giggling. Bradley swears his heart just skipped a beat. You have the most contagious little giggle ever.
"Oh no, Rooster is my call sign" he says, looking nervous after your face made an expression to the word 'call sign'. "My names Bradley."
"Call sign? So you're in the Navy too," you ask, sighing because you knew all about dating military dudes. You see your friends relationship and what deployments do to her. Spending numerous days with her, after Jake left for a deployment. She was depressed and wouldn't get off the couch for days. You were always there putting her back together.
"Yes, I'm a Naval Aviator, is that a problem pretty girl? he mutters, nervously playing with his hands. Shit did he really just manage to blow his shot? Good going.
"Well, I don't mingle with Naval Aviators, I see what that does to my friend every time her guy leaves." you confess, chugging back whatever's left in your cup.
"Well darlin', this doesn't have to be a permanent thing. You're friends with Hangman's girlfriend aren't you?" he asks, already knowing the answer but didn't want to seem like he was stalking you.
"Yes. I'm assuming you're friends with Jake then?" you chuckle. Jake got on your nerves quite frequently. He was always one of those show boat kind of guys, who you absolutely couldn't stand. But, he was your bestfriends 'soulmate' as she said, so you tolerate him.
"Oh yea, we go way back." he admits, smiling. He has a pretty smile. You could be fine with a one night stand with this man, if that's what he meant. You never did these things, so this was all new territory for you.
♬ Talkin' over the speakers in the back of that truck
There's music blaring from Jake's truck, he turned the music to his favorite station before he left with your friend. It's loud enough to hear the music clearly, but not too loud that you can't hear Bradley. You loved his voice, it was like music to your ears.
♬ She jumped up and cut me off
As soon as you heard the beginning beats to "Great Balls of Fire" by Jerry Lee Lewis, you quickly slid off the tailgate. Oh my god, this was your absolute favorite song. You probably look insane leaping off the truck that quickly, but who cares.
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♬ She was like, "Oh, my God, this is my song
♬ I've been listenin' to the radio all night long
♬ Sittin' 'round, waitin' for it to come on and here it is"
Bradley looked at you as you slid off the tailgate, your sundress slightly getting caught on the end of the truck. He quickly looked away as you turned around to look at him. He hopes you didn't catch him glance at you. His cheeks turned red almost instantly.
"Oh my goodness I love this song. I've been waiting for it to play." you state, dancing with the beat. You start singing along with it, realizing Bradley is also singing it. Little did you know, this was also his favorite song.
♬ She was like, "Come here boy, I wanna dance"
♬ 'Fore I said a word she was takin' my hand
♬ Spinnin' me around 'til it faded out
You decided to go out of your comfort zone, and grab Bradleys huge hand, making him stand up with you. "Let's dance Rooster." you say, smiling as you spun around with him. You both quickly fell into rhythm.
Bradley can't believe this seemingly shy girl just pulled him up to dance. How he's here dancing with the prettiest lady ever, to his favorite song, is beyond him. He's starting to worry that his "this doesn't have to be permanent" stance won't last long, if she keeps twirling with him like this.
♬ And she gave me a kiss
You can't tell if its the alcohol or your attraction to Bradley, or both, but you quickly pull his shirt in to kiss him. His lips were just as soft as you imagined.
"Wow, that was unexpected," he begins to say, "but I'm glad you did that before I was going too" he laughs as you rest your head against his chest. The height difference is pretty cute, you're about eye level with his chest.
♬ And she said, "Play it again, play it again, play it again"
"I hope that song plays again." you grin looking up at him. You're both swaying even though the song is upbeat.
He has his arms wrapped around your waist, staring down at your smile. You have the most beautiful smile he's seen. He becomes painfully aware of how 'whipped' he is.
"Me too, precious." he says, laying his head against your shoulder as you continue to dance. You too become painfully aware of how quickly you're catching feelings for him, wondering if you should just forget it all and risk it for this tall, handsome man.
♬ And I said, "Play it again, play it again, play it again"
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♬ I'd a gave that DJ my last dime
♬ If he would have played it just one more time
After you realized how long you two had been swaying, you pried yourself off of him. He looked sad at the sudden loss of comfort. You felt so safe in those few minutes, safer than you felt in years. Bradley wished the song would play again, just so you'd try and dance with him. It was getting kind of late, you haven't seen your friend in god knows how long, losing track of time with Bradley. Realizing you had no ride home if she left in her car with Jake, you contemplated asking Bradley to bring you home.
"Bradley, would you want to come back to my place?" you ask, hoping he said yes.
"Of course pretty girl" he says, placing a kiss to your lips, sending butterflies to your stomach. You loved when he called you that. It turned you into a giddy school girl. You turned Jake's car off and grabbed the keys, reserving them in your pocket for him to retrieve tomorrow morning.
You both made haste to Bradley's Bronco. You loved his truck, it was very unique. Seemed to fit his personality somehow.
Showing him the directions to your Airbnb, his hand rested on your thigh, just below where your sundress lands. Butterflies are going crazy in your stomach, and you can tell Bradley knows what he's doing to you.
"Stop teasing me, Roo" he grinned at the nickname from his call sign, also grinning because he's making you squirm over the littlest touch.
"Oh darlin, just you wait." he chuckles, moving his hand just a bit further. You were close to your place, hoping he'll step on the gas a bit.
♬ But a little while later we were sittin' in the drive in my truck
After he pulls into your driveway, your lips are attached once again. Breaking away from this steamy situation, Bradley turns up the radio. Hoping maybe your guys song will come back on and you can end the night even better.
♬ Before I walked her to the door
♬ I was scannin' like a fool AM, FM, XM, too
♬ But I stopped real quick when I heard that groove
♬ Man, you should have seen her light up
Scanning through the radio, hoping your song will come back on, Bradley starts to get defeated. You slouch back in the seat, not wanting this night to end. Once he got to the last station, preparing to turn his car off, by all odds you both heard the beginning of the song again. Your faces light up in happiness, the night doesn't have to end just yet.
♬ She was like, "Oh, my God, this is my song
♬ We've been listenin' to the radio all night long
♬ I can't believe that it came back on, but here it is"
"Oh my god it's our song again. What are the odds?" you beam, opening your door and meeting him in front of the beaming headlights.
♬ She was like, "Come here boy, I wanna dance"
"Dance with me again, Rooster." you grin, jumping at the beat of your song.
She had the biggest grin on her face, radiating pure sunshine. The headlights amplified her beauty even more. Bradley couldn't believe just how gorgeous she was, and here he was, standing with her in the driveway, a scene straight out of a fairytale.
♬ 'Fore I said a word she was takin' my hand
♬ Spinnin' in the headlights she gave me a goodnight kiss
Before he could say anything, you grabbed his hand and started spinning around with him in his headlights. It was a very romantic scene to anyone watching from their house.
Once the song was done, you kissed him again. This time, a goodnight kiss. He didn't want to let you go, nor did you. You gave him your phone to put his number in, once you finally parted your lips. After he returned your phone, you gave him a toothy smile. You were quickly falling more in love with a guy you swore you wouldn't.
♬ And I said, "Play it again, play it again, play it again"
♬ And she said, "Play it again, play it again, play it again"
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♬ The next Friday night
♬ We were sittin' out under the stars
♬ You should have seen her smile
♬ When I broke out my guitar
The following Friday, you two had plans to go out for dinner and sit by the beach. You weren't planning on staying in San Diego this long, but for Bradley? Anything.
You two quickly became close over the last week ish, texting and calling almost always when he was too busy to head over to you and your friends Airbnb. If you weren't convinced you were in love with each other, after tonight there would be no questions.
After dinner, which was lovely, you two laid on the back of his Bronco, staring up at the stars. You feel Bradley shift in his spot, reaching behind him. What you didn't know, was he was pulling out his guitar.
a/n: hi besties, I'm not sure if Great Balls of Fire can be played on the guitar, so just pretend that it can please lol
"Hey baby, I have a surprise for you." he states. As you sit up, you notice he's sitting on the edge of the tailgate with a guitar. As if this man can't get any more dreamy, he knows the guitar.
He starts playing Great Balls of Fire on his instrument. Which has absolutely captured your heart, even more than he already did prior to this stunt. You both sing along as he strums his guitar.
Once he's done, you feel the need to confess something you've been mustering up in your brain.
"Rooster," you grin, grabbing his hand to hold, "I think i'm falling for you, you big stud" you say, eyes watering.
"Oh darlin, so am i." he laughs.
"Take me to bed, or lose me forever." you exclaim, laughing as he tugs you off the tailgate.
"Show me the way home honey." he smiles, pressing a kiss onto your lips.
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TAGLIST:
@katiemcrae <3
@thesewordsareallihavetogive <3
comment on this post to be added!
268 notes · View notes
babygirllinds · 1 year
Text
“Maverick watches as Ice brings the glass of vodka to his lips, taking a sip, as he turns to look at Maverick. He feels a satisfied feeling settle in his stomach as Ice's eyes widen comically and he chokes on the burning clear liquid.”
OR
Maverick uses his best pants to seduce the Iceman. It fails. So he brings out the big guns: the short shorts.
Alternatively titled: ‘Good Butt-Pants’
Rating: Explicit
Fandom: Top Gun
Pairing: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell
Warnings: None
Chapter: 1
Words: 6,927
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novastories · 1 year
Text
On This Cold December Night
Title and chapter inspired the song “My Song For You” by Bridgit Mendler and Shane Harper.
Summary: Christmas looks a bit different this year for Aurora.
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!
Warnings: Mild language? Mentions of a car accident? A bit of angst and fluff! 
Wordcount: 8.2k
A/N: We have a Christmas chapter for once! These chapters get longer and longer every time I write a new one, so I hope you enjoy it! Made the moodboard myself! Like usual, timeline and ages are changed to fit the story, not the movies. Some of these storylines/backgrounds are based on what I write or imagine for my Top Gun DR. Thanks to my beta reader and editor @reginleight for putting up with this long chapter! 
Previous | Next | Masterlist
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Aurora always adored Christmas at the Bradshaw’s. Not only did she get to spend time with her family, but also the snow. She loves San Diego, but there was always something about the cold and snow in Virginia that she loved just a bit more, especially it being Christmas. But this year was a bit different.
She was glad that Christmas break was here, but she was not looking forward to going to Virginia for once. She didn’t want to have to tell Bradley about her semester, when he himself was already having a great last year of high school. She especially did not want to tell her dad what had gone down either. This year, they were meeting him in Virginia as he had just gotten back from another deployment and took time off to spend Christmas with them. Her mom and stepfather were staying in San Diego as they had baby Amelia to take care of, the little girl having already turned three. With that being the case, the two wouldn’t be able to make the flight this year to Virginia with the twins. That and the fact that their dad and stepfather did not get along. 
While packing for the trip that she and her brother would soon be leaving to the airport for, Aurora’s mother steps into the twins' shared room. Her brother, Peyton had already packed and was hanging out with his friends before they were to leave.
“Almost done packing?” Penny asks from the door frame.
“Yeah, almost,” Aurora replies, stacking the last few items in her suitcase, before moving onto her backpack for the smaller stuff. While her daughter continues packing, Penny surveys the room a little, her eyes landing on a particular corner when she spots the broken fragments of a picture frame.
“You know, it may have been better to just throw the frame out rather than leaving the broken pieces for someone else to clean up in here,” Penny says, moving into the room to go pick up said pieces.
“What, is that supposed to be a metaphor or something?”
Penny sighs and throws the frame in the trash.
“Look, I get your upset and I get how you feel,” Penny empathizes, coming closer to Aurora. “But going to the Bradshaws will make you feel a lot better. And soon you’ll forget all about what happened and come back feeling better, and be stronger from it.”
“Yeah because hanging out with Bradley and his new girlfriend will be so fun,” Aurora replies sarcastically, throwing her laptop in her bag along with the charging cable.
“Apparently they broke up,” Penny shrugs, recounting what she’d been told “She wants to go to college without a boyfriend so she broke up with Bradley before Christmas so she wouldn’t have to wait until graduation. Carole said he was heartbroken but he cheered up when he heard you were going over there for Christmas.”
Aurora was silent as she sat on her bed.
“And at least now you’ll be able to see and talk to him.”
“Yeah well that makes one of us, because he hasn’t been my friend in a long time ever since he met precious Dakota.”
“You and I both know that’s not true.”
“Tell that to all the empty letters and the short phone calls he’s made to me. Every call or letter he wouldn’t stop going on and on about her and how she was the most perfect girl for him.”
“Rory...”
“No, I'm tired of talking about Bradley,” Aurora sighs. “I just want to get this trip over with and spend time with Peyton and dad.”
Penny sits on the bed next to her daughter and hugs her from the side. It’s enough to make one, solitary tear escape from Aurora’s glassy eyes before she could furiously brush it away. 
“I’m sorry we can’t spend Christmas together.” Penny speaks, momentarily after seeing Aurora fighting to keep tears at bay. She felt guilty for not being there for her daughter as much as she should be. 
“Mom, it’s okay. You definitely made up for it with the ukulele you brought me and the new journal, trust me.
“That doesn't mean I don’t feel guilty.”
“And you shouldn’t have to.”
“But I do.” Penny turns to face her daughter. “Ever since we’ve had Amelia, I feel like I haven’t been involved with your life when I should be.”
“It’s okay. I understand. Peyton even understands. I’m just glad we got to do a small Christmas dinner last night. And got to open our gifts.” Aurora turns to her mom and smiles at her brightly. Penny laughs and pauses to take a look at her daughter.
“You know every time you laugh and smile, you remind me so much of your dad.”
Aurora pauses at the sentence. “Is that a good thing?”
“It’s a wonderful thing,” Penny reassures her daughter. “That just means you are more and more like your father, which can be a scary thing, but you have the best qualities of him.” 
“Like?”
“Like how strong you are, how you’re able to go through problems and either fix it or fight your way through it. A bit stubborn but I think you get that from both of us,” Penny admits.
They laugh and soon Aurora looks at her clock and realizes that she and her brother were leaving soon.
“I have to finish packing mom.”
“I know. I just wanted to come in and see if you needed anything. I’m glad we talked a bit before you leave,” Penny smiles, fondly pushing back some of Aurora’s hair.
“Yeah me too,” Aurora says, returning the smile.
“When you come back, we’ll go out shopping and we can talk more, okay? Just a girl’s day. Me and you.”
“That sounds great, mom. Thank you.”
Penny gets up to leave, but she pauses at the doorway. She turns to look back at Aurora with one last thing to say.
“Just when you see Bradley, hear him out first before shutting him down. You know he wouldn’t mean to hurt you.”
Aurora pauses at her words.
“We’ll see mom. We’ll see.”
When Aurora and Peyton had touched down in Norfolk airport, their dad greeted them with a big hug, and soon they were in the car, on the way to the Bradshaw’s. Peyton sat up front with their dad, talking about school, while Aurora sat in the back, looking out the window with her headphones on. Maverick throughout the trip tried to include her in it, but only got one word answers or was ignored. He knew something was wrong but didn't want to push her. He didn’t know about anything that happened at school, but Aurora knew she would have to talk to him soon before Penny said anything to him. They arrived at the Bradshaw’s in a manner of time, and as soon as Maverick put his car in park, Goose and Carole were already outside on the porch waiting for them.
“Uncle Goose!” cries out Peyton as he rushed into Goose’s awaiting arms. 
“Oh my gosh, Pey you’ve grown tall! Unlike your father.” Goose jabs at Maverick. Peyton was already past Maverick’s height, 5 feet and 9 inches. 
“Hey, I’ll have you know my height is just fine.”
“That’s what old men say nowadays ‘ey?”
Maverick and Goose start a bit of a shoving match while Peyton hugs Carole and Aurora just now getting out of the car. Her face is neutrally void of any emotion. 
“Hey, little star!” Goose spots her. Uncle Goose had given her the nickname ‘little star’ in reference to her namesake, the Aurora Borealis. He started calling her that ever since he realized how much she loved stargazing and constellations.
“Come give your uncle a hug, or do you think you're too cool for me? Because I’ll have you know I’m very cool!”
“That’s what old men say nowadays ‘ey?” Maverick retorts back at Goose. Goose sticks out his tongue while Aurora slightly chuckles as she goes to hug her Uncle Goose. 
“Don’t worry, we love you even if you are short, your dad on the other hand,” Goose whispers in her ear, Aurora biting back a smile. Aurora was not gifted with height like her father, as she stood at 5 feet exactly. 
Goose gave her an extra squeeze before she went to hug Carole.
“Are you alright, angel?” Carole whispers in her ear. Aurora just nods and steps out of her arms, following along as they all begin to head inside the house.
“So where’s Bradley? It’s not like him to miss the twins’ homecoming?” Maverick asks as the twins come back into the kitchen after putting luggage away, now having separate rooms since they were older. Bradley was not one to be late with his best friends coming back to the East Coast, let alone not be there to greet them.
“Oh he went to go see his girlfriend, well I guess ex. He went to try and win her back. Emphasis on try,” Goose says rolling his eyes, showing obvious signs that Goose did not like this girl.
“But not without leaving homecoming presents for you two!” Carole exclaims excitedly gesturing to the items that were set behind her.
On the table was another Lego set for Peyton, one in which he was hunting for and didn’t have, and a flower bouquet. Carole explained that Bradley told them that these weren’t their actual Christmas gifts but wanted to give them something like he normally does when they’d visit. Unlike the usual tradition, however, he wasn’t there to give them in person this time. Peyton immediately goes over to pick up the Lego set and is rambling on about the set while Aurora approaches the table to look at the bouquet of flowers. 
They were red roses and white tulips. They stood out and made the room shine brighter with its Christmas colors, but Aurora knew what they meant. Forgiveness. Aurora and Bradley knew the different meanings of flowers, thanks to Carole who tells them all about it. White tulips to make amends with someone who is important to you, red roses to help express affection of said amends and forgiveness. There was a note on it simply saying “Sorry I wasn’t there to greet you. Had important things to do.” It causes Aurora to roll her eyes and scoff at the note and flowers, walking out of the kitchen in a huff. Everyone turns just in time to see her leave. 
“What’s wrong with her? She usually loves the flowers Bradley gives her.” Carole asks, concerned.
“Maybe she’s allergic to flowers now.” 
Carole smacks Goose on the head for his antics.
“She’s been like that for a while.” Peyton responds, not looking in anyone’s eyes as he pretends to be interested in a scuff mark on the table he was sitting at.
“Why?” Mav says, concerned for his daughter.
“She wants to tell you. So I’m not saying anything.”
“Is this about the fight that happened in school?
“A fight?” Both Carole and Goose said in unison.
“I’m not saying anything until you talk to her. I’ve learned that Aurora will say something when she wants to. Right now. It’s best to leave her alone.”
Aurora sits on the front porch swing watching the snow fall slowly to the ground. She had so much emotions pent up inside her. She was angry at Bradley, upset with everything that had happened at school. Sad she’s not at home with her mom and sister. But she was also happy that she was in Virginia to spend time with her brother, father, aunt and uncle. She knew she had a lot of emotions trapped in her. But most of all, she felt numb. It was hard to describe the feeling, that she felt so many emotions that it left her numb. Her face said it all, ice cold. If her Uncle Ice saw her expression, he would say she looked like him. 
She had her headphones in as she was listening to music and watching the snow fall to the ground until she saw a car approach the Bradshaw’s driveway. She knew whose car it was. The one person she absolutely did not want to see. 
After parking, Bradley had gotten out of the car heading towards the house, face down as he was distracted with his phone. Aurora could see he had grown almost the same height as his dad. His hair was a bit shaggy, but wasn’t too long. He was a bit more built, she knew that was probably due to baseball training. As much as she wanted to run up and hug him, she just couldn’t. So instead, she opted for waiting, watching what his next steps would be. 
His shoes finally hitting the steps leading up to the house, Bradley did eventually look up, face lighting up noticing his best friend on the swing. 
“Well hey there princess!” Bradley brightly greets as he approaches her, arms open wide expecting her to get up and hug him. She looks at him and gets up, taking the headphones out of her ear. She walks to him, but then passes by him to reach the front door and go inside the house, closing it and leaving Bradley standing in shock. Did his best friend just act like he didn’t exist? She didn’t even hug him or even say hi. She just got up and left?
Bradley, who was still frozen in shock at what had happened, finally rushes into the house to look for her.
“Hey Rory!” Bradley calls. He spies her walking up the stairs to go to her room, he was about to go after her until a head peeks out from the kitchen.
“Oh, good! You’re home Brad Brad!” Goose cries out. “Come say hi to Peyton and Mav.” Bradley looks at his dad, then looks back to the stairs. Goose shakes his head and gestures to the kitchen silently telling him to get his butt in the kitchen and not to run after Aurora. Bradley sighs and walks into the kitchen, knowing he’ll be trying to talk to her later.
A few hours later, Aurora peaks out her door. It was getting close to dinner time, but she knew she still had another hour or so until then. Bradley had come to her door multiple times during the course of that time knocking, pleading with her to let him in so they could talk, thinking that the only reason Aurora was mad at him was because he wasn’t there to greet them. Little did he know that was the least of his worries. He kept trying to get her to open the door, but Aurora put her headphones in and just ignored him while she was reading her book. After some time passed, Bradley grew tired and instead hung out with Peyton. Aurora, after hearing the knocks had stopped, realized this might be the best time to go talk to her dad since she knew he was probably working on something in the garage. So in a swift manner Aurora came out of her room and quickly ran to the garage before anyone could see her. 
“Oh hey little star,” A voice calls out as she enters the garage. She looks and sees not her father, but her Uncle Goose. 
“Oh, sorry Uncle Goose. I thought dad was in here.”
“Nah, he went on a shopping run for your Auntie Carole. He said something to piss her off again and now he gets to pay the price.” Goose says to which Aurora laughs softly at.
“Oh well. Sorry to bother you, I’ll just head back-“
“Well wait a minute, come sit. Let me just finish this up and I’ll be yours in a bit.” He says with a wink and gestures to the couch that was set in the corner of his garage. Aurora tries to protest but is given a look that tells her that she shouldn’t argue with him.
She sighs and goes towards the area. The couch was set up next to two sofa chairs with a sort of memorabilia wall set up behind it. It was similar to something she’d seen back at her father’s apartment, a little living space he’d rented for when he was staying in San Diego. Her dad usually either stays there or at the Bradshaw’s when he’s not on deployment. 
A wall covered with pictures, patches, and awards. She looks through it and easily spots a photo with the graduating Top Gun class of 1986, easily able to pick out her dad, uncle, and even her honorary Uncle Ice. Aurora lightly brushes the photo before looking at the rest on the wall.
She spots her dad in a lot of photos, as well as Carole and Bradley, but there was one photo that stuck out in general that she had to take into her hands in order to see the full picture. It was a photo of her and Bradley when they first met, they were hand in hand and sat on top of a piano. Aurora vaguely remembers the moment she met her best friend and smiles at the photo until she remembers that she’s mad at him and puts the photo back in its spot before scoffing at it.
Moving on from that photo and looking around more she sees a photo of her uncle and aunt, so happy and in love. Carole had tears in her eyes while Goose was holding her tightly as if letting go of her would make her disappear. They were looking into each other’s eyes, foreheads pressed together. She takes that photo into her hand and smiles at it.
“That photo was taken by your father.” Goose speaks up as Aurora turns around at the sound behind her. “It was the day I came back from my last deployment. Right before I hung up my wings.”
Goose approaches the couch and sits as Aurora looks at Goose.
“Do you ever regret not going back?” she timidly asks. Goose thinks for the right words before answering her.
“I miss flying with your dad. Heck I’m sure your dad says the same thing. I loved flying with him even though he got us in trouble a lot.” Aurora laughs at the thought of what chaos her father must’ve dragged her uncle into with him.
“But as much as I loved flying with your dad, I needed to come home to your aunt and Bradley.” 
Gazing fondly at the photo held in Aurora’s hand, Goose’s smile was a little strained with his next words.
“We already had a scare before graduating Top Gun, and after that last deployment, I couldn’t leave them alone. You sacrifice a few things to get things right, but I don’t ever regret giving up my wings. Because I would do it over and over again in order to live my life with the family and watch you all grow up.” 
Aurora thinks and sighs before putting the photo back in its place, coming over to sit beside her uncle.
“Alright little Mav. Talk to me.” Goose teasingly says.
Aurora pauses for a moment before admitting “I don’t know where to start.”
“Well then, let’s start at the beginning.”
With a deep breath, Aurora began talking about school and what had gone down. How what was supposed to be a great first year of high school, turned out to be one of the worst semesters she’s had. Her friends that she made in high school all turned out to be fake and were talking behind her back.
Her so-called junior boyfriend was only dating her because there was a bet going on saying that no one could get Aurora to go on a date. Also the fact that he was sleeping with her so-called best friend behind her back. Aurora was mad at not just the situation, but herself. She couldn’t believe that she had let herself be fooled the way she was. Her brother had gotten into a fight with her ex, but thankfully did not get into so much trouble since he was provoked, only having to serve detention. 
As Aurora rambles, there are a few faces that Goose makes, showing he is listening to what was being said. He would add a few funny comments to lighten the mood such as “What an ass!” and “Hell yeah, way to go Peyton!” but other than that he would listen to her. 
“So yeah. Now I’m here. Spending the holidays here, wondering how the hell I’m gonna survive the next few years of high school.” Aurora sighs. Goose looks at her as she finishes her story. Aurora could feel his gaze on her as Goose hadn’t said another word since his last comment of ‘Mav and I should go to the school and threaten to kick their butts’ to which Aurora shut it down right away.
“What Uncle Goose?”
“I’m sorry Aurrie. I know the first year of high school sucks, but it will get better.”
“You wanna know what sucks more? Having your best friend cut you out and not even talk to you because he's busy with his girlfriend.”
“More like ex.” Goose retorts back.
“Still! I’ve known him since I was four, Uncle Goose and he just pretends as if he didn’t just ignore me when I needed him the most!” Exasperated, Aurora tosses her hands up recounting the events of what had happened with him. “He hung up on me when I tried to talk to him on the phone because he was getting ready to hang out with her.”
Goose sighs. “I honestly don’t know what’s going on with him. Carole and I raised him better than that.”
“I know, Uncle Goose, you both did good. It’s just,” she pauses. “I miss my best friend. It really hurts that he’s pushing me away”
“Yeah I know kiddo.”
Aurora then thinks about something.
“How do you do it Uncle Goose?”
“Do what?”
“You and Auntie Carole? You two fight but you always find a way back to each other. You don’t push each other away, and even if you try, you both are always there for each other.”
He didn’t know which situation Aurora was referencing. Her breakup or Bradley. 
“Ha, yeah your dad always said your Auntie and I are like soulmates.” He smiles at the thought of his wife.
“What do you believe are soulmates, Uncle Goose?”
Goose looks at Aurora who looks at him thoughtfully.
“I think a soulmate is someone you can be yourself around. Someone you can take comfort in and someone you can tell anything to,” Goose tells her sincerely. “They know you better than you could ever know yourself. Someone who accepts you for who you are. And despite some of their qualities, you’ll love them for who they are in return.”
Aurora then asks. “Do you think I’ll ever find my soulmate, Uncle Goose?”
He chuckles at her question. He kisses her forehead. “Of course, everyone has a soulmate. Romantic or platonic, everyone has that special someone.” Even though in his mind he knew Aurora had already found her romantic soulmate.
“What about mom and dad? Are they romantic or platonic soulmates?” she questions.
“Well their situation is a bit different. But I think it’s just a matter of the right person, wrong timing.”
“So you think they’ll ever get back together?”
Goose cackles. “Oh hon, I got a bet with your Uncle Ice and Auntie Carole about it! They best better in a few years.”
Aurora and Goose giggles as Maverick comes back in the garage from running his errands for Carole. He sees his daughter and best friend giggling away on the couch and he smiles knowing she found comfort in his best friend. 
“What’s going on in here?” Maverick speaks up as Goose and Aurora looks at him. 
Looking away from Maverick and at each other they grinned.“Nothing,” they reply simultaneously, breaking out into even more giggling.
Maverick shakes his head and squeezes himself between them.
“So, you wanna tell me what’s going on?” Maverick asks his daughter. Aurora then goes on to tell Maverick about what she told Goose, besides the conversation about soulmates. Before Maverick could say anything she tells him that he didn’t have to say anything since she felt better after talking with Goose.
Maverick smiles, gives her a kiss on the forehead and tells her to get ready for dinner. She smiles and gets up from the couch heading towards the door. As she reaches the doorway she pauses and turns to look at uncle Goose and her dad.
“Thanks for the talk, Uncle Goose. And thanks dad for understanding.”
“Anytime kiddo.” Goose smiles with a wink. She turns to run back into the safety of her room. 
Maverick sighs. 
“What’s with the sigh Mav?” Goose’s brow arches questioningly.
“Nothing. I just can’t believe she’s so grown up. Had a boyfriend and first heartbreak in just a couple of months. And I wasn’t there,” Scrubbing a hand down his face, Maverick’s gaze was still on the door where Aurora had just left through.
“You know you would be if you could.”
“I know Goose.”
They revel in silence for a bit until Goose speaks up and says, “Ya know she asked about soulmates?”
“Really? What was she referencing? Her breakup or her fight with Bradley?”
“Beats me. But I just hope they make up soon.”
“Yeah it’d be a real shame if you lost the bet between her and Bradley.”
“Jokes on you old man. They call me Cupid for a reason.”
“No they call you Goose because you quack a lot of nonsense,” Maverick snorts.
“That’s it. Bring it on Mav, I can’t wait to take out a short pancake.”
“Why do you always bring up my height?!”
Maverick and Goose jokingly wrestle on the couch as Carole walks in to tell them dinner was ready. She shakes her head and sighs. “Men.”
Bradley and Aurora barely spoke throughout the break. Bradley knew to give her space as soon as she didn’t speak to him for dinner that night, and it didn’t stop at dinner either. She didn’t speak to him most of the time she was at the house, mostly spending time with Auntie Carole in the kitchen, or at the floral shop. And when she was at the house, she hung out with her brother until Bradley came along then ran to the garage where Uncle Goose and Maverick were. 
Maverick even took the twins to an airstrip, where they got to ride in a plane with their dad. They’ve been in a plane before with their dad behind the wheel, but he got to show them the ins and outs of the plane, as well as helping them learn landing and taking off procedures, something that they loved to learn when they were little. They had definitely gotten their love for aviation from their father. 
In all honesty, Bradley felt like he was going nuts not talking to her, but he knew he was also going to have to talk to her soon. It was the night of Christmas Eve. Nobody had wanted a big party and instead they had all opted for family time at the house for spending Christmas. The adults were still talking at the dining table while Peyton was on the phone with his friend in his room.
Bradley took this as an opportunity to approach Aurora, who was out on the porch with her ukelele and her journal that her mom and stepfather gave her. With a single red rose in hand, he went outside to the porch dressed in his Christmas sweater and jeans. It was pretty cold outside, but the Bradshaw’s installed a small outdoor heater above the porch swing so he knew he didn’t have to bring out his winter coat. And so, when he stepped out onto the porch immediately he saw her.
Aurora also had a red sweater and leggings on. Her hair was in a braid in order to prevent any strands from getting caught in the instrument. She had a blanket over her legs, ukulele in hand strumming a pattern of chords. She was humming along until she’d pause, set the instrument down and jot something into her journal. She didn’t need to look up to know who had stepped onto the porch. 
“So you gonna stand there and look dumb staring at me or are you going to sit down and actually say something?” Aurora spoke up, breaking Bradley out of his trance from staring at her. He takes a breath and walks up to Aurora and sits next to her as she makes room. She still had yet to look up into his eyes.
“Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you when you came. I got busy with Dakota and I wanted to see if I could get her back.”
She sharply inhales.“Bradley, do you honestly think I was mad about just that?!”
“Is that not what you’re mad about?”
“Are you shitting me?” Aurora looks at him with a bewildered look on her face. 
“Is that rhetorical? And when have you started cussing?”
“Gosh Bradley! If you had at least picked up the phone, you’d know that I’m mad because you’ve been ignoring me for 2 months!” Aurora exclaims.
“Yeah well, we’ve both been busy,” he states simply.
“Pushing me away was the worst thing you could do! If you had picked up the phone you’d know about my breakup and Peyton’s fight.”
Bradley looks at her while tears run down her face and she quickly wipes it away.
“Shit, I’m sorry Rory.” Bradley sets down the rose on the table in front of them as he turns to her. 
“Yeah, well so am I. Gosh I’m so mad at you! You and not telling me things anymore, B. We’re supposed to be best friends.”
“We are best friends, I am still your best friend.” Bradley pleads.
“Really?! So you were gonna tell me about your car accident?! Or was that something you were gonna withhold too?” Aurora looks at Bradley making eye contact with him for the first time in a while. Bradley becomes silent and Aurora scoffs at his response. 
“Yeah that’s what I thought.”
“How did you-“
“Did you really think I wouldn’t hear my mom and Auntie Carole not talk about it the night of?” Aurora questions him, baffled. “Mom thought Peyton and I were asleep when in reality we were sitting on the steps of the stairs trying not to cry about your car accident. Mom had to end the call because we were crying so hard since we thought we were gonna lose you.”
Bradley and Aurora sat in silence looking away from each other, watching the snow fall.
“Were you ever gonna tell me?” Aurora speaks up after a few seconds go by.
“Eventually.”
“Really?”
“I don’t know.”
“Damnit Bradley this is what I’m talking about! What happened to us?” she cried out.
“I’m sorry Aurie.”
She sighs and looks at Bradley as he turns back to look at her. She can see the scars on his face and neck, remnants from the accident. Bringing her hand up from her lap, her fingers lightly traced over each scar, Bradley staring into her eyes as she did so.
“Does it hurt?”
“Not anymore.” She cups his face, caressing the raised skin. Her eyes filled with tears and Bradley panics thinking he made her cry again.
“I was so afraid I was gonna lose you B,” she whispers softly. 
“Oh, darling.” He brings her into a hug and she hugs him back tightly, arms wounding around his neck.
“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Promise?”
“I promise princess. I’m so sorry, I’ll do better to tell you everything from now on.”
Bradley holds onto her as if she was his lifeline. He focuses on his best friend, the girl who always had his heart, even if she didn’t know it as she cries holding on to him, making up for lost time from fighting and accepts his apology. They hold each other for a long time after that, as Aurora’s breathing slows and stops crying. It’s only after calming down does she then realize about the rose Bradley left on the table.
“Is that for me?”she says as they break from the hug and she picks up the flower. 
Bradley blushes and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.“Well I couldn’t really come out and not give you a flower since I wasn’t here when I gave you that bouquet.” 
She laughs and leans on him, flower in hand. He kisses her forehead as they both sit and watch the snow fall, wrapped in each other’s arms, probably the most relaxed in each other’s presence since this break had started.
Christmas morning came and the Bradshaws, Maverick, and the twins were sitting in the living room next to the Christmas tree, all wearing matching Christmas sweaters. Everyone in the house had also called who they needed, to greet whoever a Merry Christmas, from Penny to their Uncle Ice, and even Maverick’s and Goose’s old Top Gun instructor Viper, who they kept in constant contact with.
It was a perfect picture of Christmas morning, hot chocolate or coffee in hand, the kids sat on the floor while the parents watched them open their presents, and the fireplace was lit (after Maverick and Goose argued about who could light the fireplace, so Bradley and Peyton shoved their dads to the side and lit it themselves). Aurora opened her gifts and had already gotten an old polaroid camera from Goose, a fluffy blanket from Carole, a new phone from her dad, and a mug from Peyton that said “You’re a great twin sister…I guess” which was something he made from his pottery class at school.
Peyton loved his gifts that he had gotten which was a new Lego set (Goose), cellphone (Maverick), beanie (Carole), a bracelet that said “Twins Forever” (Aurora) and new basketball shoes (Bradley) that he was already up and getting another drink refill while the adults were already talking about the gifts they had gotten each other.
Bradley and Aurora look at each other with smirks, grabbing their presents that they got for each other. Bradley stands up and walks to sit next to Aurora. 
Aurora smiles. 
“You open your gift first, B!” she gives him a wink, prompting him to start unwrapping his gift, and gasping as soon as he sees it. 
The first gift was a picture frame that contained three photos. One was the first photo they both ever took together, on top of a piano, hand in hand at four and eight years old. The other photo was of the twins and Bradley during the summer. Goose had taken a photo of the trio when they were racing each other on bikes laughing so hard, you can almost hear it from the photo. And the last one was another photo of the trio, from last summer when they were sitting on the porch, another photo Goose had taken when they were stargazing. Under the photo frame was a small box, Bradley opened it and it was a necklace. It had a plane pendant on the chain, and engraved on the side was “Always Flying Home” with the trio’s initials next to it. BAP. She knew Bradley would soon want to join the Navy soon and follow his dad’s footsteps. Bradley looks at her in awe.
“So do you like it, or are you looking at it like that because it’s super ugly?”
Bradley laughs and gives her a big hug. 
“I love it, Aurie! Like a lot. I’m not taking this off.” He says as he releases her from the hug. Goose, Carole and Maverick break the moment, wanting to see the gifts. Bradley passes it around to have the adults get a good look at it as Aurora proceeds to open her gift from Bradley.
Peyton then comes back from refilling his drink just as she unwrapped her gift. The first one being a stuffed toy of a bunny. It was white, pink, and fluffy causing her to laugh in delight. Bradley was going on about how a bunny suits her personality and knew it was one of her favorite animals, with her favorite colors. She shakes her head in laughter and smiles at him.
“I’m gonna keep this forever!” She exclaims. Everyone in the room laughs as she opens her last gift. She opens it and reveals a box. Aurora looks at it, then looks back at Bradley.
“I swear if this is another paper wind up butterfly or a ring pop again B, I swear to -”
“Oh my gosh just open it!” Peyton exclaims, excited to see her sister’s reaction. She looks at her brother, suspicious of him as well.
She slowly opens the box, arms extended from her body, scared that something would come out, but nothing did. The adults laugh at her antics as she then peaks in the box and gasps. It was a beautiful silver charm bracelet.
“Everyone added a charm on it and engraved their initials on each charm, so you have a piece of everyone whenever you need us,” Bradley explains as he helps Aurora remove it from the box. 
Carole said she chose the sunflower one, whereas Goose chose a goose charm since Maverick took the plane charm. Bradley said even Penny chose one for her, and that she picked the star charm.
“I chose one that had two hearts intertwined on it!” Peyton exclaims, proud of the charm he chose as he gave her a side hug.
Bradley helps Aurora put on the bracelet as she spies Bradley’s charm. He had added two. One was a princess crown and right next to it was a sword. Bradley looks into her eyes and grins at her.
“I figured that the princess should have her knight right next to her,” he says, still holding her hand.
Aurora blushes while Peyton groans and gags on the other side of her. She ignores him in favor of throwing her arms around her best friend. Bradley laughs and hugs her back. A flash goes off causing them to break their hug and look around to see Goose taking a photo of the moment, Peyton gagging in the photo and all. Bradley then takes Aurora’s hand again and kisses it, as Peyton was still acting up and the adults were laughing at his antics, not looking at the duo. 
“I love it, B. I don’t think I’ll ever take it off,” she says as she brings her wrist up to examine the bracelet closer. Bradley glances at her and grins.
The excitement soon dies down as they start cleaning with the music record playing in the background. Bradley and Peyton go to collect the wrapping paper from the floor while the men set up the projector for their Christmas movie day, of course bantering on who gets to do what, as they normally do whenever they are paired together for any job together. Aurora goes to the kitchen to assist Carole in helping set up lunch. Aurora then looks out the window and sees that the snow had finally settled and turns to her aunt.
“I’m gonna go and get some air real quick!” she tells her, as she rushes out the kitchen and to the front door.
“Don’t forget a coat or turn on the porch heater!” Carole yells from the kitchen. Aurora rushes past Bradley and Peyton as they finish picking up the trash.
“C’mon let’s go make snow angels!” as she grabs her coat from the coat rack and runs out the door. 
“What are we, 5?” Peyton yells after her. 
“Mav, let’s go!” Goose exclaims from behind the two, hand on the back of the man whose name he just called out, and drags him towards the front door.
“No, but apparently he is,” Bradley mutters to Peyton. They snicker as they grab their coats and follow the three that went out the door. 
Aurora was already making a snow angel, back on the ground and waving her arms as if she were doing jumping jacks. Goose was right beside her as Maverick was staring out from the porch, shaking his head at his best friend’s and daughter’s antics. The duo laugh at the sight in front of them and follow their lead and start to make snow angels as well, Peyton laying next to Aurora, and Bradley next to his dad. They start laughing while Maverick sighs at them, for once not being the irresponsible one in this situation. Carole comes out with Goose’s camera in hand and takes a photo of the scene in front of her.
Peyton then gets the bright idea to start a snowball fight, then all hell breaks loose. No one was safe as snow balls started flying left and right. Even Carole and Maverick had joined in after Carole had put the camera in a safe corner to record the moment. Because in this instant, if you can’t beat them, you might as well join them. There were no teams, it was just a flurry of snow flying everywhere.
Maverick then lifts up his daughter after she smashes snow on top of her dad’s head while he was kneeling to make a snowball causing her to scream in delight and laughs as he throws her softly into a pile of snow. Peyton then joins in, jumping onto Maverick’s back, but because he wasn’t expecting the weight, they both tumble onto the ground, next to Aurora.
The Bradshaws have their family moment as Carole and Bradley team up and take down Goose, ending up right next to Maverick and the twins also in the same manner. They all look at each other and laughed so hard, their stomachs and sides were hurting. With their adrenaline from the fight dying down, the cold and wet had begun setting in through their clothes causing them all to finally call a truce and head back inside before anyone could end up sick.
As they walk into the house, Carole and Goose first, Maverick, Peyton, with Bradley and Aurora still on the porch straggling behind them whispering and shoving each other, Peyton stops in his place. 
He exclaims out “Wait, Uncle, Auntie! You have to kiss.”
They all pause their conversation and turn to look at Peyton. He gives them a look and points to the doorway that they all just passed through, and the doorway Bradley and Aurora were about to go through. Hanging on the doorway was mistletoe, all in its glory. The adults look at each other with confusion.
“Who hung that up?” Carole asks, curious.
“Maybe Santa.”
Maverick smacks Goose’s arm. Peyton looks at the adults.
“You have to kiss, it’s like the mistletoe law.”
Carole and Goose chuckle as Goose dips his wife down for a kiss. Maverick rolls his eyes, and looks at the duo who have yet to cross the doorway.
“No.”
“I didn’t even say anything.” Peyton exclaims
“Not you, them,” Maverick points at Bradley and Aurora. Both were blushing, either from the mistletoe or the cold.
“What do you want us to do then? Stay outside for the rest of the night?” Aurora sarcastically replies.
“You can cross the doorway, but no kissing.” Maverick states.
“But it’s the law!” Peyton exclaims.
“Screw the law, they’re not kissing!” Carole and Goose laugh at Maverick’s protectiveness towards his daughter and Bradley. 
Bradley sighs and comes up with another idea.
“We can go through the back door while you get the mistletoe down, how’s that Uncle Mav?” 
Maverick thinks about it. “Fine, but no funny business.” He gives them a threatening look.
The duo roll their eyes as they make their way to the backdoor.
“Who do you think hung up the mistletoe?” Aurora asks Bradley. 
“I don’t know, maybe dad? He would come up with that idea.”
Aurora giggles at his response, and soon they approach the back door until she looks up and groans.
“What?”
Aurora points at the doorway and Bradley glances to see another mistletoe hanging. Bradley laughs and puts his palms to his face.
“We could just take it down, we don’t have to obey the mistletoe law,” Aurora nervously speaks up as she walks up to the doorway and reaches up to grab the plant, but because she was short she was struggling quite a bit. She was so focused on getting the mistletoe down, not even seeing the look Bradley was giving her at that moment. A look that showed love and adoration.
Bradley then decides in that moment to not think, but to just do. He gently grabs Aurora by the waist from behind her causing her to gasp and spin around now finding herself in his arms. Instinctively, she found herself clutching onto his arms in response. Their eyes meet, and Bradley glances at Aurora’s lips, as she looks back at him nervously. Was she about to kiss her best friend? Her heart began beating so fast, she wasn’t sure it was beating at all because at this moment all she could think about was Bradley, who was waiting for her answer, afraid that she would push him away. Slowly, she brought herself to give him a slight nod, and with that he leaned down.
Aurora meets him halfway, as she gets up on her tiptoes and their lips finally meet. His lips were a bit chapped from the cold, but Aurora didn’t care because they were warm. Her arms slowly go up Bradley’s arms and she wounds them around his neck. Bradley leaves his left hand on her waist, and the other slides to her cheek, cupping it and giving her more butterflies in her stomach, if that were even possible.
It’s as if the world went still for the first time. Frozen in a snow globe, and just for that moment, Aurora felt love and compassion from Bradley in that one action. Bradley held on to her, believing it was a dream, and he didn’t want to let go. 
They both slowly part after their kiss, their faces red, from both the cold and the lack of air. They look into each other’s eyes, and all Aurora could see was the hazel eyes that she grew up with, full of happiness and love. Bradley gazes into her dark eyes and for the first time in his life, he was speechless. They both laugh at the expression they were giving each other.
Kissing her cheek, he whispers into Aurora’s ear. “Merry Christmas princess.” Aurora practically glowing at those words.
“Merry Christmas, B.” The two then separate, giving each other another warm smile, and as Aurora goes to open the door, Bradley reaches up to take down the mistletoe and pockets it in his jacket, as if to hide the evidence of the moment, but also wanting to keep a memento.
Aurora and Bradley walk a few steps into the kitchen where the backdoor was connected, and spot Peyton sitting on the kitchen counter drinking from his mug. He was facing the back door with a smile on his face as he saw the two walk in. He jumps down from the counter, walking towards them. 
He whispers to both of them and says “Don’t worry, they don't know. They think you two were talking again so I won’t say anything.”
He winks at them, as the two release a breath they didn’t realize they were holding. They follow Peyton back into the living room as they hang up their coats.
“C’mon you three, you’re gonna miss the movie!” Goose calls from his seat on the couch, while Carole is sitting next to him, and Maverick is sitting in a sofa chair that was next to it.
The three rush to their usual spot on the floor, set already with the floor cushion Carole leaves out for them, along with the food and drinks on the coffee table, also courtesy of their Auntie Carole. Aurora sits in the middle of the two and settles in watching the movie in front of them until they hear Peyton whisper at a volume only they can hear.
“By the way, mistletoe is very hard to find. You both are lucky Auntie Carole works at a flower shop.”
Bradley and Aurora freeze at his words and turn to look at Peyton who had a mischievous grin on his face. The trio laughs as Aurora winds her hand in Bradley’s and leans on her brother. Maybe this Christmas break wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be. She smiles at that and settles in her seat, ready to take what was coming because as long as she had her best friend and brother by her side, she felt prepared.
---
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thebirdandthebee · 1 year
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Call Him Daddy (18+)
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This one’s short and sweet - trying to bust a writing slump. I could very easily do a part two if there’s interest! Smut ahead :) 
Title: Call Him Daddy Bradley’s been waiting for this day for years, but now, you’ve given him the green light. WC: 2187
The first sign of consciousness was soreness. Before you’d even popped your eyes open that morning, you felt the sublime ache between your legs, and oddly, your breasts.
There was no one to blame but your husband, Bradley. Who’d been awake for about half an hour or so, but hadn’t left the confines of your 500-thread-count sheets.
Bradley was on cloud nine because you were officially trying. After he’d been wishing and hoping and being patient for years, you’d finally had the conversation last night. You’d been married for four years after three years of dating and now, you were comfortable with the thought of tackling parenthood with Bradley.
“Babe? Are we out of mayo?” Bradley had called from the kitchen. You’d assembled a nice little table of accouterments, potato salad and chips as he’d grilled burgers for dinner and you were poised to eat out in the backyard.
Bradley, along with the help of a few of his squadron teammates, had finished the fence in the backyard last week and you were now able to enjoy the outdoor space with just a little more privacy.
“It’s on the door!” You called back, excited, nervous energy zipping through your veins. Tonight you were telling Bradley you’d gotten your IUD removed. Your IUD, which he saw as his mortal enemy.
The truth was, Bradley would have been thrilled if you’d gone off your birth control when you’d gotten married four years earlier. He always thought there was something romantic – traditional – about a honeymoon baby. Hell, he would’ve been more than happy if you’d gotten pregnant before you’d tied the knot.
There were few things in this life he wanted more than to be a dad and have a big family. As someone who grew up with so little, the idea of a full house felt like a dream. You had always known about Bradley’s wishes to be a father, and he was understanding that while it was something you wanted to do, be a mother, you wanted to check a few things off your list first.
You wanted to get married, do some traveling, establish a little more financial security and enjoy life with just you and Bradley for a few years. You loved everything about being a pair – Christmas mornings, vacations, nights out with friends – those would all change with a baby. Certainly for the better, but it would be different, and you’d never get that time as just the two of you again.
You’d spent six weeks backpacking through Europe in the fall, and since then, you’d slowly and quietly been making preparations to transition to a family of three.
And tonight, you’d finally tell Bradley.
“Baby, it all looks wonderful,” you smiled as he sat down, placing a big bowl of watermelon, along with a jar of mayonnaise on the table. “Love when you grill,” you leaned over your bistro table to kiss his cheek.
“Thanks Babe,” he grinned, not flinching as you snagged the sunglasses from the collar of his T-shirt and dropped them over your eyes. You’d chatted about the day – your work day was quiet and Bradley was bringing in a special detachment for training over the next eight weeks. Most of all, you enjoyed the gentle breeze and scent of the neighbors’ lilacs.
“I was thinking…” you began, earning a deadpan look from your husband. Anytime you started ‘thinking’ usually ended up in a new project for him. “Now that the fence is up, could we plant some flowers over in that corner there?” You gestured to the far left side of the yard. A simple request.
“Yeah, we can do that pretty easy,” he agreed. “Maybe some bushes in the other, we can mulch around,” he laid out with his hands, pausing to take a big bite of his now assembled burger.
“Mm, I don’t think that corner,” you shook your head, “I want to keep that back wall of the yard clear,” you stabbed a piece of watermelon before taking a bite.
“Okay, maybe back along the right side,” he trailed a finger along the fence line. “Maybe a bonfire pit?” He suggested.
“Oh definitely not,” you shook your head, nibbling away at your dinner.
“Okay – how about a Jacuzzi?” He suggested. “Now that we have the fence, we don’t need to worry about bathing suits,” he grinned, and while it was a great deal of work not to grin back, you somehow managed.
“Nah, I just don’t think we’d get much use out if it,” you shrugged.
“Baby – nothing along the back side, no bonfire pit, no Jacuzzi – what did we fence this yard in for?” He asked, laughing as he polished off his first burger. It was not out of the ordinary for Bradley to put away three or for burgers on a grill night. You wiped your mouth with a napkin, crossing your legs before taking off his sunglasses.
“Know what I’m thinking?” You asked, taking a final sip of your iced tea. “I’m thinking… swing set along the back there – it’s the perfect view from the kitchen,” Bradley set his fork down. “And a bonfire pit will be fun eventually, but little feet running around the backyard make me anxious… and the Jacuzzi – you know I’d love to take a skinny dip with you, but… it’s just not good for pregnant people, I already Googled it.”
Bradley’s brain short-circuited for a moment.
“And how,” he paused to clear his throat,” how long until we need to start worrying about that?”
“Well I just got my IUD out last week, but my doctor said I can get pregnant in my first cycle,” you dragged your fingertip around the rim of your drinking glass. “Not everyone does, but you’ve always been an overachiever,” you said, meeting his gaze.
“Now? We – now?” Bradley asked, sputtering, patting all over his chest and shorts like he’d misplaced his phone.
“Now,” you nodded, barely getting a moment to gauge his reaction before he was out of his seat, shoulder pressing into your midsection as he hoisted you over his shoulder.
You were sure your neighbors heard the terrified scream that morphed into giggles as he all but kicked the back door in.
“Now?” He said to himself in disbelief, suddenly forgetting the layout of his own home, twisting around in circles to find the staircase. “I can’t believe this, I didn’t do anything to prepare!” He said, not even registering that you were swinging around over his shoulder.
“And what exactly would you have done to prepare?” You asked, wondering if squirrels would completely demolish the spread that laid out on the patio table.
“I don’t know, but I would have done something,” he insisted, taking the stairs by two and only mildly terrifying you.
“Oh my God,” he mumbled, setting you down on the mattress gingerly and immediately reaching for the non-existent fly on his shorts, which were held up on a drawstring. His brain, completely scrambled, was not cooperating and he hastily grabbed the waistband and ripped the shorts down his legs.
God you loved his pale thighs.
“Bradley, you don’t need to hurry!” You laughed.
“Of course I do,” he insisted, kneeling on the bed with one leg between yours, getting to work right away on your button-fly shorts. “I want ‘em all, baby,” he insisted. “Boys, girls – lots of ‘em – and I want ‘em now.”
“I thought we said three max?” You asked, peeling off your own top as he made busywork of your panties.
“Three to start,” he elaborated, “fuck I don’t care.” He shook his head. Pausing, he crawled up to meet you at eye-level. “I love you so much,” he said sincerely. “I can’t wait to be a Dad,” he added, “but more than that, I can’t wait to see you be Mom.” You leaned up to kiss him gently, the same mustache you’d been in love with for years tickling you softly. “You’re sure?” he asked, brows furrowing with just a bit of concern.
“I’ve never been so sure about anything,” you replied, pushing your fingers through his hair. “Thank you for being so patient with me,” you added, “it means more than you know.” Bradley, at the risk of getting choked up, simply kissed you once more before pressing his forehead against yours.
“If I get emotional right now I won’t be able to get hard,” he said honestly, making you giggle.
“You’re going to be such a good Daddy,” you breathed into his ear, nipping at his earlobe.
“Just kidding, I’m hard.”
Now, in the morning light, he was watching with moony eyes as you nuzzled down into your pillow. Your eyes fluttered for a moment as you took stock of all the delicious places you were suddenly acutely aware of with a small twist of your body.
“Mornin,’” Bradley murmured, tucking one hand behind his head.
You groaned gently, eyes squeezing shut tight before softly opening.
“Hi baby,” you greeted, blearily rubbing at your face. Eyes not yet focused, you zeroed in on your husband as he gazed over at you lovingly, his hand moving gently up and down beneath his blanket.
“Hi,” he grinned.
“What are you doing, Bradley?” You giggled, feeling like you were catching your 16-year-old boyfriend.
“Waiting for you to wake up,” he replied. “Ready for day two?” He asked.
“Day two?” You replied with an exasperated smile. “What’s your plan here Bradley?”
“Every day till we get a positive,” he said simply. “If you get pregnant in the next few weeks, we can have a spring baby,” he added.
“Bradley – every day?” You asked, eyes wide.
“I text Hondo, he’s covering for me at lunch next week, Phoenix can take the week after him,” he added.
“Bradley Bradshaw, what did you say to them?” You asked, mildly scandalized.
“Don’t you worry about it, baby,” he grinned, loving the way you rolled your eyes at him.
“Can’t you feed me first?” You asked softly, “the midnight grilled cheese was not enough,” you added. It was also the only time you two had come up for air all night.
“I will,” he assured, pulling the blanket off his body. His erection was pink, the tip wet and veins prominent. “But maybe, just to start the day…” he trailed off as his hand continued to pump up and down his length.
“I am sore,” you countered weakly, eyeing up his anatomy with a wanton gaze.
“I’ll be gentle,” he insisted, “you set the pace,” he added. You nodded, holding open your blanket, and soon, you were sliding down onto him, your body pressed tightly against his from head to toe.
“Oh, Bradley,” you sighed. And though you felt impossibly full, you felt complete. He gently rocked his hips up into you as you curled against his chest. “You’re so good to me,” you whispered, gasping as he hit a tender spot within you.
“You’re the one making my dream come true,” he countered, palming your ass in his hand as he dropped a kiss to the top of your head. “Gonna be the best Mama to our babies,” he encouraged.
You whined gently as he hit your cervix, which you were sure he’d bruised last night, but in the best way possible.
“S’okay,” he murmured, “doing such a good job,” he added, making your skin warm all over. “Doing such a good job.”
For moments, all that could be heard were his steady, even breaths and your soft exhales against his neck.
“Want you to come first,” he said, “I’m right after you – you first, baby.” Bradley did his absolute best to hold back as you gripped at his chest, hugging the underside of his shoulder to you as you fluttered around him. “Good job, good girl,” he looked up at the ceiling, a sweat breaking out across his forehead before he couldn’t hold back any longer. Just the idea that today could be the day they made a baby was enough for him.
“Bradley,” you gasped, his warm cum filling you as his hips jerked up erratically.
“Fuck,” he huffed out in a laugh. “I’m in there, babe,” he panted.
“I can tell,” you blushed, pressing your face into his chest once again. “Can you go make me some breakfast now?” You asked.
“You gotta wait,” he said, planting his feet and pushing his hips up to create a 45-degree angle, raising you up from the bed. “Gotta raise those hips,” he said, matter-of-fact.
“Baby,” you laughed. “Is this real or you just made it up?” You asked, bringing you hands up to brace on either side of his head
“I got a feeling,” he replied. “And it feels nice,” he added, making you blush again. “Next time, you’re gonna be upside down,” he commented.
“Upside down? Bradley, no,” you shook your head with another laugh.
“Baby, I’m gonna fold you every which way till Sunday,” he all but purred. “You’re gonna feel me in here for weeks,” he slapped your bare ass, making you squeal. “Your days as the only person calling me Daddy are over.”
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed Call Him Daddy, you might also like Mighty Fine!
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topguncortez · 4 months
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I Still Love You - Jake Seresin x Shy!Wifey
opposites attract masterlist || main masterlist
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synopsis: Y/N goes out on her first date in. . . in a while. She struggles with her feelings as if it is time to start moving on, or if she wants to fight for things with Jake.
word count: 1.7k
warnings: mentions of cheating
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Y/N didn’t know what she was doing. 
She couldn’t remember the last time she went on date. Things had changed a lot since she was active in the dating pool. Dates were no longer big events where you shaved every crevice of your body, went out and bought a new dress, spent hours doing your hair and make-up, where picked up at your house and greeted with flowers and taken to some fancy restaurant across town. No, dating now was going to a local bar for a drink or two with some guy you had matched with on some dating app. 
Y/N felt her hands shake as she looked over her shoulder as the bell above the door rang. She was extremely early to her drink date, a whole half hour early to be exact. But the nerves had gotten the better of her, and she didn’t want to show up late. Now she sat looking completely out of place in this swanky bar on the east side of San Diego. It was far enough away that she knew it would be safe from anyone she knew catching glimpse of her. 
It wasn’t that she felt guilty about being on date. . . well, she felt a little bit guilty. Jake hadn’t signed the divorce papers yet, but they were making way with setting up visitation days. Y/N was currently living in the house while Jake was staying in an on-base house. Y/N hadn’t even thought of getting out into the dating field, wanting to wait until the divorce was completely over, but Val had set her up with one of her co-workers and Y/N didn’t have the heart to say no. Who knows, maybe she was going to meet her second husband. 
A small huff left her lips at even the thought of marrying another man. Having another man raise her kids. Having another man in her bed. Jake had been the one for her, and he’d always be the one for her, even if he broke her heart. She could entertain the notion of getting drinks with someone, but it wasn’t going to go much farther than this. 
“Y/N?” A masculine voice called out to her. She lifted her head, “I’m Miles, it’s nice to meet you.” 
Y/N gave him a tight lipped smile, reaching her hand out to greet him, “Nice to meet you, Miles.” 
He was clad in a black dress pants and baby blue button up. The top buttons were undone, showing the faintest gold chain around his thick neck. He sat down on the barstool next to you, his scent of oranges and hospital drifting to you, making your nose scrunch. You hated oranges and the thick smell of hospital disinfectant. 
“Sorry I’m late, got held up at the hospital,” Miles said. 
Y/N furrowed her eyebrows looking at her watch. It was 7:01 and they agreed to meet at the bar at 7:00, “A minute late is hardly late.” 
“In my book. . . it is,” He smiled, flagging down the waiter to order himself a drink and some appitizers, “I don’t like showing up on time, it feels like I’m late.” 
“I’m the same way. I like to be atleast 10 minutes early to everything,” Y/N sighed, “But having kids, I’m lucky if I’m even 5 minutes early.” 
“Val told me about your children,” Miles said, taking a sip of the old fashioned he had ordered, “Three of them right?” 
Y/N nodded her head, reaching for her phone. Her favorite thing about being a mom is getting to show off pictures of her kids. She showed Miles pictures of Alex when he first got his glasses, Ella winning her first soccer game, when Eli rolled over for the first time. Miles smiled along with her the whole time, asking questions about her kids; what they liked to do, what their favorite colors are, what their favorite bed time stories are. 
“They look like they are some fun people,” Miles said, sipping his drink. 
Y/N wasn’t sure what it was that snapped in her, but she suddenly felt embarrassed. Was she talking too muc about her kids? Did this guy even want kids? It wasn’t just her he would be getting if they ever decided to go past this one date, it was her and three kids. Three kids that had cried when their father moved his things out the door. Three kids that had been fighting and acting out more since the divorce process had started. Three kids that were waiting for her to come home. 
“Hey?” Miles asked softly, putting his hand on her knee, “Did I lose ya?” 
Y/N blinked a couple of times, plastering a fake smile on her face, “No,” She shook her head, “It’s just I-” 
“Thinking about your kids?” Y/N nodded and Miles set his glass down on the bar, “Val told me this is your first time out since your divorce. . . It’s my first time out since my wife died and I. . .” Miles shook his head, “I can’t help but feel like I’m doing something wrong, meeting you here.” 
Y/N’s heart broke a bit in her chest, seeing his sad brown eyes look at her. Val had mentioned that he was previously married, but she never disclosed the details on what happened. She shifted on her barstool, placing her hand on top of Miles’ giving it a squeeze. 
“This doesn’t have to go very far tonight. . . If anything, I’m not ready to go very far tonight,” Y/N spoke honestly, “I’m still hurt and dealing with everything, but I could really use a friend?” 
Miles nodded his head, turning his hand in Y/N’s so their fingers were intertwined, he squeezed her hand back, “I can use a friend too.” 
The two of them stayed in the bar for only another hour, before going to find something to eat on the east side. Miles had picked out a local seafood place that he swore had the best fish tacos. The conversation flowed easily as they ate. They talked about everything under the sun; what he did for work at the hospital, Y/N’s plan to go back to work at the flower shop in a couple weeks, Miles’ most recent travel to Switzerland for a pediatric board conference, how Y/N finally got to visit the USS Midway museum. It truly did feel like Miles was the perfect friend for Y/N. He understood what it was like to lose someone you love, only difference was Jake wasn’t dead. 
“I should really get back,” Y/N sighed as they walked down the sidewalk to where she parked her car, “I gotta trade off with the kids’ dad, he works early in the morning.” 
“Don’t gotta explain anything to me,” Miles shrugged. He had been totally respectful when Y/N talked about everything with Jake. She didn’t go into full detail about it, mainly because the wounds were still so fresh. She still felt a pang in her heart when she walked through the front door and his boots weren’t there. 
“I think we should do this again, I really enjoyed getting to be with another adult,” Y/N smiled and Miles returned it. 
“I would love to,” Miles responded and opened Y/N’s car door, “Let me know when you get home, please.” Y/N nodded her head, “Good night, Y/N.” 
“Goodnight, Miles,” She whispered as she shut the door. 
The whole drive home it felt like Y/N was in a cloud. Her feelings were a bit conflicted on what she felt towards Miles. He was a good guy, with a nice smile. He had a sense of humor and had made her laugh several times throughout the night. Y/N could tell he had manners from the times he pulled out her chair and switched sides on the sidewalk so he was near the street. But all those little things were also things that Jake had done. Jake always sat so he was facing the door, or in the isle. Jake always opened the door and walked next to the street. Jake always knew how to make Y/N laugh. 
Y/N had just pulled into her driveway, Jake’s black truck parked in it’s normal spot when her phone dinged. 
‘Valeria Bates: how was it!? Did you kiss!? Did you do more than kiss!?’ 
Y/N’s face paled. Was she supposed to kiss him? They had agreed to just be friends, for now, but what was supposed to happen on the next date? Y/N hadn’t ever kissed another man besides Jake. And she sure as hell hadn’t slept with another man. Even though Miles was attractive, the thought of him touching her the way Jake had made her feel queasy. She didn’t respond to Val, tucking her phone in her purse and heading towards the front door. 
Quietly, she pushed the door open, coming face to face with Jake sitting alone on the couch, only the light of the television illuminating his face. When Y/N first asked Jake if he could watch the kids tonight, she hadn’t felt bad about it, but now, seeing him sitting there alone, she felt nothing but guilt. 
“How was it?” Jake asked. 
Y/N sighed as she took off her coat and hung it up, “It was good.” 
Jake nodded his head and stood up from the couch, “Will there be another one?” 
“Too soon to say,” Y/N mumbled and turned to face Jake, “How were the kids?” 
“They were fine. Eli was a bit fussy but he’s got some teeth coming in,” Jake stuffed his hands in his pockets and Y/N nodded. 
“Well, You should probably get-” 
“Don’t go on another date,” Jake said, cutting Y/N off, “Look, I know I fucked up. I know what I did is something that is unforgivable, and I beat myself up for it every day, but please. . . Please. . .” He walked towards her, and grabbed her hand in his, “Please.” 
Y/N wasn’t sure what to do, as he stood before her, his green eyes with a tint of red to them. 
“Goodnight, Jake,” Y/N muttered, squeezing his hand before moving towards the stairs to go check on the kids. 
“I love you,” Jake whispered as Y/N’s frame disappeared down the hallway.
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ussgallifrey · 1 year
Text
Home for the Holidays | Part 1
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✦ Summary: Never let it be said that you weren’t willing to do just about anything for your squadron. As you find yourself roped into an elaborate ruse to help fool Hangman’s mother for Christmas all seems to be going according to plan. But when that plan spirals out of control, the line between real and pretend begins to blur.
✦ Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Female Reader
✦ Warnings: Anxiety, fake dating, hurt/comfort, light mentions of divorce, minor angst.
✦ Word Count: 7.5k
✦ Author's Note: Who are we blaming for this mess? Say it with me: @top-hhun ! The true enabler of all things Jake Seresin. I owe it all to you, love <3
[Master List]
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The gym was nearly deserted this time of day. The USS Abraham Lincoln was a mere 48 hours away from port and the crew was anxiously anticipating their first bit of proper leave in over nine months. Your air carrier wing, however, was due to leave in the morning.
You should be packing your things and cleaning up the mess in your locker. But you felt the need to blow off some steam first. And somehow, he always knew when and where to find you.
Even with your earbuds in, you can sense his presence just before he makes himself fully known to you - hovering back by the treadmills. You let him sweat it out, finishing the final few steps of your post-workout cool down on the floor mat, your gym playlist coming to a perfect conclusion. 
If he was going to seek you out during your off time, then he would have to wait.
Wiping the sweat from your brow as you stand back up, muscles aching with a pleasant burn, you pull your earbuds out one at a time before turning to face your companion. Hangman is leaning casually against the side of the squat rack now, watching you with that ever-present smirk on his face.
“So,” he drawls in that familiar accent of his, “We doing this?”
You let your eyes trail over his features for a moment, chest still heaving from the afterburn of your workout. How dare he look so put together in his flight suit while in the presence of your sweat-soaked gym clothes.
“What? Just drop trow and do it on the floor?” 
You make a grab for your water bottle, taking a refreshingly cool swig before wiping your mouth dry. He doesn’t even have the decency to look fazed by the question. 
“At least let me lay down a towel first since I’m not being afforded the luxury of getting dragged back to your berth like one of your other lady friends.”
His eyes narrow and his smirk grows.
Some people had ship wives when they were deployed. Jake Seresin had you.
That wonderfully strange mix of teasing flirtation and sworn rivalry that you somehow balanced between the two of you.
“Don’t tempt a man,” he grins wolfishly, uncrossing his arms and taking a step forward to meet you halfway. “Just say the word, Pita. And your dreams could just become reality.”
You scoff, sidestepping him, “What, the less-than-stellar sex or this convoluted plan you came up with?”
“We - ” he quickly reiterates, waving an accusing finger between you both, “The convoluted plan that we mutually came up with, thank you. Gotta share the credit.”
There was this thing the two of you started doing, way back in the day. The savior swoop, you think he coined it.
The whole thing started with a lovely hole-in-the-wall bar in Sydney during a week-long leave. You had been happily content minding your own business with the three other women from your squadron - Rocky, Juggs, and Barb- when in came an overly smiley Hangman, who had quickly wrapped an arm around your waist and muttered, behind clenched teeth.
“You’re my girlfriend. You’re my girlfriend and I will give you all the money out of my wallet if you sell this for me.”
You had stared at him for a long moment, followed by an affronted, “Yes, hello, Pita. Nice to see you too - ”
That was when he roughly pinched your side. A young woman appeared just a moment later with a lipstick-coated smile that seemed to fall the moment she spotted you. Realization dawned and you pulled the best obnoxious girlfriend ruse you could with six shots of vodka in your system. 
At the time, it had never really crossed your mind as to why he approached you out of everyone else. Eventually, you just wrote it off as the fact that you were far more familiar with the man since you had been flying together the longest. That and you knew for a fact that any one of them would have left Hangman out to dry.
It was a thing then. A very non-recurring, once-in-a-blue-moon sort of thing. 
Hangman became your cover boyfriend when a pushy marine wouldn’t seem to take a hint. You filled in when two civilians, eager to hook up with a uniformed airhead, kept him from his pool game. It was just a mutually beneficial back-and-forth for the two of you.
No feelings required. Just the occasional dropping of a honey or babe when it was necessary to sell the point, much to the amusement of your fellow aviators who loved to egg it on even more.
This little plan, however, was taking the fucking cake.
You can’t even remember who got started talking about the upcoming homecoming and eventual leave.
The Vigilantes must have pleased the big names over in the admiralty because your air carrier wing had secured ten days of leave right over the Christmas holiday. It was virtually unheard of. But your squadron had just returned from a lengthy tour and you knew at least one or two new chest candies would be heading your way soon.
But there you were with Hangman, shooting the shit in the officer’s rec room with a few other guys from the squad. Freeze was going to propose to his girl finally, Sparky had his whole family coming up from Arizona, and Cosmo was planning some big soul-searching trip to Mount Rainier. 
Maybe someone had asked if Seresin was taking his girlfriend back home to visit his family - followed by several good-natured laughs. Maybe it was the obnoxious aviator himself who suggested it with a flash of clear amusement in his eyes.
Either way, here the two of you were, a day shy of flying back to Lemoore, with this massively stupid plan waiting in the wings.
“I’m sorry, you’re right. It’s our stupid plan. An unnecessary plan, I may add. You could just tell your family that you’re not - ”
“Too late now. I told my mom you were coming - you know, when we agreed to it a week ago,” he mimics your annoyance with a great big grin.
You stare down the corridor, wondering if you could just make a run for it and avoid the conversation - and the plan - entirely. 
There was a fundamental difference between doing the act to throw off an inebriated barfly and another thing entirely to fly across the country to play house for one of your families for the day.
Hangman crowds your space, staring you down with a knowing look in his bright sage green eyes. Fixing your own stare in return, you stand your ground - lips tight and eyes narrowed.
“You could literally just tell her we’re friends. Only friends.”
He laughs, outright laughs in your face then.
“And miss out on the fun? Where’s your sense of adventure, honey?” he smiles for a moment before finally relenting. 
His features soften, taking a quick cursory glance around to seemingly insure your current privacy from the rest of the crew. 
“Look, you’d be doing me an honest-to-God favor if you came along.”
You knew that. Hell, you had a whole conversation about it six nights ago actually. You knew Hangman’s family was a mess from the day you and him had crossed paths on the flight deck for the first time. It was just written into his very being.
“Yeah, yeah. Classic savior swoop. Pull at my heartstrings some more while you’re at it, Seresin.”
His features light up as he places a stick of gum between his lips, giving a signature smirk, “You’re gonna make a hell of an impression, Pita. I’ll give you that.”
You pat his shoulder playfully, “Thank me after I get your mother permanently off your back.”
“Will do,” he says with a sort of yes ma’am tone as he watches you walk back to officer’s country before your next debrief.
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The journey back to Lemoore had been blessedly smooth flying. The raucous crowd spilled past the barrier the minute the first aviator stepped down onto the tarmac. Families and loved ones flung themselves onto their long-lost loves. Wives and girlfriends with single-stem roses, newborn babies, and weepy toddlers holding signs and tiny flags. It was a familiar, happy sight.
You watch from afar, zipping your helmet back into its carrier, and shouldering your duffle bag.
There was no point in having your family fly out just to meet you here. They were going to see you in three days anyway. Might as well save everyone on the crazy airfare for a change.
A sudden scream pulls your attention to the aviator on bended-knee, with a sobbing brunette now throwing herself into his arms.
“He almost lost the ring before we left.”
You eye Hangman as he sidles in next to you, running a hand through his helmet hair. He’s got a fond smile on his face as he watches the newly engaged couple - Freeze is walking his girl back to the hangar and she’s wrapped herself around his waist like a sloth.
“Seriously? Should start calling him Frodo,” you muse, hefting your bag higher on your shoulder.
“Think Smeagol would be more appropriate.”
You know that he can see you openly mouthing the word Nerd with an air of fake judgment. He just gives a silent head shake of a laugh and double-checks the zipper on his own helmet bag.
The two of you watch as the immediate rush of people seems to ease back, clearing the tarmac.
“So…” he grins, “We still doing this?”
Turning to get a good look at him, you take in the very teasing expression on his face. Though his eyes are too squinted from the overhead sun to get a real good take on his exact inner workings.
“Well, as fun as it would be to leave you hanging for a change - ”
He chuckles, taking a step back to grab his own duffle bag from the ground, “Admit it, Pita. You’d start to feel bad for me. With that aching heart of yours and all.”
“Hah!” you tilt your head back with a bark of laughter, “Oh, Hangman. You have no idea just how steel-coated this heart is. I would delight in seeing you hung out to dry. However, I make it a habit to hold true to my promises.”
“Good,” he nods with a surprising sureness. Plucking his signature box of toothpicks out of his pocket, twiddling with a single pick for a moment, he adds, “Because I would have hated having to chase you down and drag you back to Texas on my own.”
“Mmm, in your alpha male dreams, Hangman.”
You part ways in the parking lot with plans to catch up in three hours. It would, theoretically, be enough time to unpack the essentials, clean yourselves up, and pack a carry-on for the flight.
The on-base house has remained the same as when you left it six months prior, albeit a thin layer of dust covers parts of the room that you swear you’ll get around to cleaning before you fly back out. After your gloriously long, hot, uninterrupted shower, you manage to throw together a reasonable bag in no time flat. Rolling shirts and pants up with expert ease.
And then there’s a knock on your door, one minute before your set meet time. It makes you wonder how long Hangman was waiting around, trying to time it just right, before he came up onto the front porch.
You unceremoniously toss your bag into his arms as a way of greeting, locking the door behind you as he laughs.
“Hello to you too, darlin’.”
“Coffee,” you say by way of explanation, pushing by him. “I need coffee and food if you want to keep me from ripping your head off before we board.”
He gives a sharp nod, following after you to the waiting Chevy pickup in your driveway, “Can do. Gotta keep my girl happy.”
“Oh god,” you groan, turning to look back at him as you pull open the passenger’s door, one foot on the running board. “Are we starting that now?”
His eyes flicker with amusement as he carefully shoves your bag in behind your seat, holding the side handle as he peers up at you.
“Well, you know what they say - ” he flips the toothpick in his mouth around with the roll of his tongue, lips tugged into a smug grin around it, “Practice makes perfect.”
You blank, staring down into the all-too-confident eyes of your wingman.
“And I can still catch another flight,“ you retort with an equally Cheshire-like grin.
His smile falls in an instant, “Right, coffee for the missus.”
The howl of laughter you give is worth it as he seemingly scrambles to shut your door for you, jogging around the front of the truck, before hopping into the driver’s seat.
“I’m not a cheap date either, Seresin,” you warn, clicking your seatbelt into place. “None of that gas station stuff. I just spent months with mediocre instant brews and I deserve something to keep me awake and smiling for this little ruse.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles good-naturedly as he places his hand on the back of your seat, peering over his shoulder as he backs the truck out of the driveway. 
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The awkwardness hits the minute he pulls out onto the main road, just past the east entrance gate. As though the barbed-wire fence offered a semblance of safety when you were still behind the traffic barrier. But now the cloak was pulled free and you were both fully aware of the situation you were in.
You had spent the better part of a year and a half with this man, both on and off a carrier. You knew his breakfast preferences and his anal retentiveness when it came to the upkeep of both his flight gear and his hair. His argument-worthy movie choices and his pre-flight rituals. It was just a normal part of co-existing on a carrier in the middle of the ocean, you suppose.
And yet, here you were - for seemingly the first time ever - with just him in an enclosed proxy. There was no Freeze or Sparky there to break the tension with an off-the-cuff joke. No Freud to poke fun at the tension itself - should we give you two lovebirds space or do we get a free show?
No, it was just you and Hangman, in his truck, with the genuine realization that you were actually doing this hovering in your quickly sobering thoughts.
Maybe ideas had after doing a twelve-hour, start-to-finish, mission weren’t actually the best things to be acted upon.
There’s the soft hum of a splotchy country radio station that keeps coming in and out of range to fill that voided space between you. A twangy Christmas cover croons over the speakers as you stare out at the open desert landscape that surrounds the empty stretch of road.
You want to say something, anything really to break that strange note of silence.
But for once in your long career of being a give ‘em as good as they get kind of officer, you find the words surprisingly dried up on your tongue. And that doesn’t particularly bode well for the two of you if you have to spend the next forty-two hours together.
Hangman, for all intents and purposes, appears entirely unfazed by the arrangement. As he reclines back in his seat with one hand on the wheel and the other draped against the closed window, catching a bit of direct sunlight. 
The only true difference, besides the civvies, is the tightened line of his lips. And his usually slicked-back helmet hair is surprisingly… fluffy, for lack of a better descriptor. You wonder if, like yourself, he only used product when it came to being in uniform or if he just didn’t have the time for it in the mad rush to get to the airport at a reasonable time. 
“See somethin’ you like?”
The quip is a loud, sudden intrusion into your silent introspective. He glances over at you with a teasing smirk already in place.
You huff in abhorrence, eyes flicking back to the road in front of you - refusing to fall into an obvious trap like that.
“Remind me why I agreed to this again?” you ask instead. 
He switches hands, gripping the steering wheel with his left as his right comes to rest on his inner thigh. He rubs at the denim for a moment as he seems to contemplate his answer.
“I think it might have something to do with my next month’s worth of bonuses being up for grabs.”
The smile on your face dims for a second. 
You weren’t particularly interested in prying Hangman’s money from him. If it had been anyone else in the squadron, you would have found yourself in a similar situation - you were sure of it. It’s just the fact that the two of you had the practice in hand for this one strange stunt.
But you would have done the same for Sparky, Cosmo, or Freud in an instant. It wasn’t about the money, it wasn’t that kind of favor. He knew that, right?
Turning it around, you kiddingly press on, “And the free flight, free meal, and free accommodations, right?”
He cracks another look at you as you come to the first stop sign in over six miles, “You really aren’t shaping up to be a cheap date, are ya, Pita?”
“Hey,” you hold your hands up in a way that seems to say you brought this upon yourself. “You asked me, Hangman.”
He scoffs, “Yeah, ‘cause my options were real ripe for the pickin’.”
The truck glides through the four-way; no other vehicle in sight.
“Well,” you lean back into the side of your seat, pushed against the window so you can really get a good look at him. “Did you even bother asking anyone else?” 
You can see the thick crease of his brow as he bites down on the toothpick, eyes squinting slightly against the afternoon sun.
“Did you even think to ask Captain Manning to go in on this with you? I bet if anyone could get your mom off your back, it’d be him.”
That at least makes Hangman grin, all bright and genuine as he reaches for a pair of sunglasses attached to his visor. He fiddles them on, one-handed, before peering over at you once again.
“Oh, I have no doubt good ole Zilla would win over my momma’s heart. But the man can’t lie to save his teeth. So, excuse me for bypassing him.”
“Such little fate,” you mock.
“Nah,” he taps the steering wheel with an idle finger, “We’re here now, ’s all that matters.”
You were sure it had nothing to do with the fact that out of your squadron of thirty-eight, you were only one of four female aviators currently flying with the Vigilantes. And certainly, the only one even remotely considered to be close to Seresin.
Of course, the alternative would have been trying to convince some random girl to come along with him for the holiday. And while you didn’t doubt Hangman’s ability to pull, it was a bit of a hard sell given the time of year - even for the likes of him and his classic Ken-doll appearance. And chicks loved the Ken-doll appearance.
No, the truly worst alternative would have been making him face the company of his own family alone. The horror.
Letting the now less-than-awkward silence filter back into the cab, you settle in for the rest of the short ride into the nearest city.
The actual town of Lemoore is far more lively and bustling than the base stationed just thirteen miles west of it. Hangman easily follows your directions to a coffee shop off the main drag - immediately glancing down at his watch, as if trying to mentally calculate the maximum amount of time you could deviate from his schedule. 
After parking out front, he holds the door open for you and another couple as the rich aroma of fresh brew and baked goods hits your senses. Was there ever a sweeter smell? After months at sea, with only the array of mixes in the officers’ mess to keep you going, this was like walking into paradise.
Hangman scooches in next to you in line. His sunglasses are at least clipped to the front of his t-shirt’s collar now as he peruses the colorful red and green menu with an appraising kind of look - flipping that damn toothpick of his around in his mouth as he weighs his options.
It’s still decidedly strange to be doing this with him.
While you frequently found yourself in the company of your squadron, both on and off duty, this was notably uncharted territory. 
There’s a slightly stoic demeanor that Seresin has when out in public, but the minute you’re called up to the register, he’s got the biggest grin on and good old boy charm ready to go. While he ends up ordering a breakfast sandwich and a surprisingly high-sugar content pumpkin spice frappe, you go for the turkey melt and an iced coffee. He pays for it all - out of some sense of duty to the mission, you suppose - and stuffs a twenty dollar bill in the tip jar for good measure too.
The two of you hover at the end of the counter, next to the hanging snowflake decorations, while you wait for your order to finish up. He’s got his arms crossed and a downturned look on his face as he stares at the coffee shop’s patrons - couples spread out amongst the two-seater tables. A modest indie version of “Santa Baby” and the quiet hum of chatter keep either one of you from speaking until his name is called by the barista.
But as you head back outside, he stops you at the hood of the truck - his brow pinched.
“I’m not gonna be insulted if you back out, you know.”
Scrunching your lip, you say, “Good to know - ” while making a move for the passenger door, clutching your drink and carry-out bag in one hand.
“I mean it,” his voice raises slightly as he rounds his side of the vehicle, continuing the conversation from across the open doorway as you hop in. “We get to Fresno and you take a flight back home and we’ll act like this whole plan never existed.”
You wonder, briefly, where this change of heart is coming from. But you give a little nod, slotting your condensation-heavy coffee into the cup holder - it might be December but it certainly didn’t feel like it out here. 
“I mean if you’re looking to get rid of me so easily…”
“That’s not - ”
Hangman groans, slamming his door closed with more force than probably necessary as he scrubs a hand down his face. He stares ahead for a moment before finally saying, in a much more even tone:
“It’s a lot to ask of someone. And I’ve been sitting here for the past twenty minutes wondering what the hell I was thinkin’ asking you to do this in the first place.”
You have the good grace to leave your sandwich wrapped up and on your lap as you turn to give your companion your full attention.
You’re reminded of the conversation the two of you had nearly a week ago.
He was just about staring daggers into his meal when you found him in the Wardroom, well past the dinner rush. There was a pen settled between his fingers like a damn cigarette that he kept twirling around as his gaze drifted past the food in front of him.
And you - like any good person would - asked him what the hell the plate ever did to him.
As you joined him at the empty table, he admitted that he had just gotten the third email that week from his mom going on and on about his future and how he’s getting older, and that the eligible dating pool is vanishing before his very eyes.
“What, is she dead set on having grandkids before she kicks it or something?” you had asked with a pitched tone.
He had just shaken his head, ruffling a hand through his hair - food long forgotten in front of him, “Nah, she’s got nine already. She just gets into a mood around the holidays. But it’s been getting on more and more like this lately.”
“Guess you got no choice but to get hitched the minute you get your boots dry.”
At least that had managed to pull a laugh out of him, even if it seemed hollow and lackluster compared to his usual booming tone.
“Nah, I’m being serious here, Hangman. Have a 72-hour marriage for show, break it off before we head back out. Just give her something for the holiday so she’ll get off your damn back for a while.”
And though it took a moment, his face had lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree. As though he had made the ultimate connection in his brain and had come up with the idea all on his own. As though you hadn’t been joking in the slightest.
“Someone who could pull it off. Someone who has real-time experience with yours truly, right?”
You’re not sure how, in only a matter of an hour, Hangman had convinced you to go along with it. To play the role of doting and loving girlfriend for a one-night-only performance for his mother, of all people. But, at that exact moment, it had seemed like the greatest idea known to man. Hangman, specifically.
But here you were, only hours from hopping on a commercial flight together to put on a show for the big leagues. Was it any wonder either one of you was getting cold feet?
“Seresin.”
His eyes finally drift over to yours. His face is just about as stoic as he can make it be outside of an inspection line. But his eyes, that’s where the real trouble lies.
“I’m already here. I don’t back out of promises - even the most ridiculous kind. So, get the damn ignition started, and let’s go before we get stuck in security for the next two hours.”
He takes you in for a long contemplating kind of moment as you try to be reassuring with only your earnest expression alone. Whatever he finds there, he must deem it good enough for him and his sensibilities because not a second later the truck engine purrs back to life and he’s pulling out onto the street.
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He has the good sense not to bring it up for the rest of the drive. When you pull into the airport’s parking lot, he makes a vague last-chance kind of gesture, but you just yank your bag out of the backseat and head towards the terminal entrance. He rushes to grab his own gear to catch up to you.
You discover how much of an antsy flier Hangman is when it comes to flights he’s not personally manning. Constantly checking the time, mumbling about the slow-moving lines - which you remind him is attributed to the fact that you were in an international airport, traveling five days before Christmas.
He had you rushing to get to your gate a good hour before you were even required to be there. And by that point, he was on the edge of his seat, wringing his hands, just waiting for the second your boarding party was called.
His mom snagged the two of you business-class seats for the trip the minute she heard her son would be bringing home a girl this year. You want to feel guilty about it, but you’re actually grateful for the upgrade as you stretch out into the padded seat next to him. The last thing you wanted was to be packed in with the other sardines in Economy.
The flight to Dallas is about as interesting as a FOD walk. With Hangman pulling out a tablet once you’re at cruising altitude, while you pop in your earbuds and almost immediately pass out for two hours straight.
It’s his amused green eyes that you awaken to. 
The rough press of his hand against your shoulder and your last name being repeated with louder and more serious persistence. You feel a bit like a zombie as you shuffle alongside him to your next gate after disembarking. That spontaneous nap had been a bit too deep and dreamless for that short of a period, as you woke up feeling more tired than when you initially fell asleep. 
There’s a nearly two-hour layover there in Dallas. But you just inch forward through the crowds until your boarding group is called and you’re back onto another plane. The skies outside the window have faded to a vibrant amethyst color, splattered with rays of gold and amber as the bright lights of the city disappear into the distance.
This flight is short in comparison, which you’re thankful for as the grime of travel seems to hang off you now. Roughly an hour out and you would finally be able to debark and collapse face-first into a hotel room.
Hangman has his tablet out again, though he seems far less interested in picking up where he left off on his E-book now. He’s got his right leg crossed over his left at the knee, anxiously tapping his foot and therefore jostling his tablet as he peers at the headrest in front of him. 
He had traded for the aisle seat this time, so it takes you a moment to pull your attention away from the changing scenery of the landscape outside your window to properly notice his change in demeanor.
“Hmm?” you hum in question.
He shoots a glance at you - something coming to terms on his face - before he ultimately shoves his tablet against his side and turns as much as he can in the confines of the seat to face you properly.
“My favorite color is blue; dark blue, not sky blue. I hated all of my English classes in school. I track the Longhorns’ scores religiously when we’re out. I despise almonds in their entirety. Non-dairy substitutes are an absolute no-go.”
You stare at him for a long moment before saying, “Okay…?”
With a roll of his eyes, “We’ve been dating for however long. These are things you’d know about me at this point, right?”
“Ahhh, gotcha,” you settle against the armrest in between you both to really look into his eyes. “See, I didn’t realize that to enter your mom’s house I would have to pass the Seresin partner pop quiz first.”
“Oh, fuck off,” he pulls away, running his hand through his unkempt hair.
You kick your foot at his shin, just a playful tap really, to get his attention.
“You prefer sausage links over patties. You won’t shut the fuck up about Hudson Card and his current stats - which are shit, by the way. You suck at poker and any other card game we’ve ever played. You have a lucky pair of briefs that you wear every time we - ”
“Okay,” he quickly interrupts, holding up his hand to cut you off.
“Come on,” you grin. “We’re in too tight of a circle to not know the damn basics about each other at this point. How about, instead of playing twenty questions until we land, you tell me about the off-limits stuff.”
At the questioning raise of his brows, you elaborate.
“Any triggers words? Like, I have an uncle Edward who, if you mention iPhones, will go on an unhinged rant about 5G towers and radiation until he runs out of breath. Anything like that I should be made aware of?”
His features seem to relax at last as he rubs his hand along his jawline for a moment, “Best not mention my Dad at all. Avoid the name Gwen, if you can.”
“Stepmom?”
He nods, blowing out a long breath, “Stepmom.”
“Think I can manage that. Anything else?”
For the rest of the flight, you cover the basics of the trip. His mom, Patricia - but call her Patty - is a bit of a germaphobe. 
She has two guest rooms and will gladly offer to accommodate you both for the night, but she’d actually hate it if you took her up on the offer. She’s a traditionalist when it comes to Christmas dinner; none of that fusion food at her table. She’ll sneak off to the kitchen for a not-so-sneaky drink if the conversation takes a turn at all. 
But most importantly, she definitely does not want to hear about any missions he has been on, though she’s very proud of his current career.
“And where are we on the PDA scale?” you ask as Hangman grabs your bag from the trunk of the rental car.
You had been stuck at the baggage carousel for forty-five minutes, the car rental counter for another twenty, and then the drive from the southern part of Austin up to the northern part had taken over half an hour. At this point, you were done.
But, for once, you had to admit that the company wasn’t the worst to be had.
“Ehh, probably on the low side? Enough to pass as a couple but not enough to make her grab hold of the metaphorical pearls.”
You hum in understanding, noticing that he’s still got his fingers looped through the strap of your bag along with his own as you head for the side entrance of the hotel, up to your room on the third floor.
After nabbing the key card from him, you unlock the door and immediately flick on the lights - making a straight line to the double bed by the window and unceremoniously flopping down on it, face first. Your bag is dropped next to your leg, making the bed jostle slightly, but you merely grunt in acknowledgment.
You can hear his tired chuckle somewhere above you, followed by the sound of his boots being kicked off.
“Before you disappear on me again, Pita. Be a dear and take a look at that informational on the table and find us some damn food.”
Giving a lazy thumbs up in his general direction, Hangman gives a departing laugh before he heads into the bathroom - but only after securing the deadbolt on the main door first.
It takes a moment, but you finally summon the energy to pull yourself up onto your elbows. Snatching the paper brochure from the bedside table with a listing of the local attractions and restaurants. You skim the names until you find a pizza place that’s supposedly open til midnight. It was only - you glance at the radio clock - 10:46 pm, so you should be good to send in a delivery order.
“Pizza?” you call out.
You can make out the muffled what he yells back in return.
“Do you want pizza?”
Your louder query is immediately responded to with a rough I can’t fuckin’ hear you in here.
Flipping onto your side, you wait for him to emerge from the bathroom to bother communicating with him again. Pulling out your phone, you search for the restaurant and casually scroll through their menu until you hear the click of the door.
Hangman shuffles out, grabbing his abandoned hoodie from the bed and methodically folding it up, “What were you hollering about?”
“Pizza sound good?”
He grunts, nabbing his boots and moving them into a more reasonable location in front of the open closet by the door.
“Depends on the place.”
You look at the name on the webpage, “Market Street Pizzeria?”
With a nod, he pads across the room and plops down heavily on the bed opposite yours, running both hands through his hair as he seems to stifle a yawn before it can escape.
“They’re good,” lifting his hips up from the bed, he grabs his wallet out of his back pocket, rummaging for a moment before he tosses a card at your face. “Here, get whatever. I’ll just pick off anything too offensive.”
You glance down at the card before immediately slamming it down on the nightstand, “Yeah, I’ll get this one. And I hope you don’t find pepperoni and cheese too obscene for your standards.”
He stares at you for a long moment before relenting and swiping up his debit card. You eye him as he tosses his wallet down at the foot of his bed before he props the pillows up and rests back against them - grabbing hold of the TV remote.
“Should be twenty minutes,” you announce, dropping your phone down on the bed as you push yourself up into a sitting position.
He hums in acknowledgment as you unzip your bag and fish out a pair of pajama pants that you had packed near the top of your items. You disappear into the bathroom to do your business and change - staring at yourself in the mirror for a long moment. Two flights and an impromptu nap had not done you any favors and that was a fact. After splashing some water on your face, you join Hangman back in the room.
He’s got just about everything settled already. A phone charger’s meticulously looped and plugged into the bedside outlet, a toiletry bag on the left-hand side of the dresser, and his own travel bag secured away in the closet next to his boots. The efficient bastard.
When you get the notification that your delivery has arrived, he heads down to collect your food and tip the driver. He ends up sitting at the desk to eat while you sit cross-legged on the end of your bed. The news is playing on mute in the background with the closed captions turned on.
“So,” you say after taking another bite, “What’s our story, in case she asks?”
He wipes his fingers off on one of the napkins before crumbling it up into a ball and taking aim at the trash can - it lands, of course.
But then he seems to remember that you asked a question as he turns in the rolling chair, legs spread wide as he gently sways side-to-side, “Like how we met?”
You roll your eyes, licking your fingertips clean of pizza grease, “I think it’s pretty apparent how we met, Seresin. What I meant was, how long has this - ” you gesture a hand between the two of you - “been going on. I mean, you’re taking me back home for the holidays, so it’s probably pretty serious at this point.”
He gives a chuckle, tapping his fingers on his knees, “How long a period of time is considered appropriate to bring a partner home?”
“Hell if I know,” you chortle, kicking your legs down over the side of the bed as you lean back on your hands.
His brow hitches up, “What, never taken someone home before?”
You don’t like the pointedness of the question as you squint back at him, “Been a bit busy, Bagman. What about you? What’s your excuse?”
“Had a high school girlfriend, dated for three years. Had her over for Christmas our senior year.”
“No one since though?” you ask.
“Like you said,” he leans back in the desk chair, folding his hands together over his stomach, “We’ve been busy.”
You nod, letting the topic settle in front of you both.
It wasn’t unheard of for people to get together on deployment, even less so on the carrier when you were forced into a confined space with the same individuals for months at a time. Shore leave was good for an easy hook-up or two, but real relationships? Those usually only happened prior to getting your orders for the most part.
The majority of the guys you knew had gotten together with their significant others around their time at the Academy, if not even sooner. Half of them got hitched right after graduation so their girl could get a place on base before they shipped out or went to flight school. But after that? Well, there wasn’t a hell of a lot of time for regular dating.
And it wasn’t that big of a deal when your focus was on your career. People like you and Hangman were all about that life. You didn’t go through the rigors of TOPGUN just to ask to be relocated to a desk job in Pensacola so you could settle down with a nice man and have a few all-American kiddos of your own this early on in your career.
Half your squadron had someone waiting for them back home. It was just a handful of you now that were still noticeably single - happily single, you should add.
“Five months,” you finally announce.
When you’re met with a curious pair of olive green eyes, you reiterate.
“We tell her we’ve been together for five months. Long enough to be serious, but short-term enough to make it seem like we were just being cautious about announcing anything too soon to our families.”
Hangman chews on his lip, mulling over your idea before he leans forward and extends his hand for you to shake, “Sounds like a plan, sweetheart.”
You just shake your head as you grip his hand tightly, “Guess I need to get used to those cutesy little pet names, huh?”
He laughs, pulling back to scratch at his chin, “Mmm, need to start with calling me by my real name for a start.”
“What, no Jakey or Jakers?”
His eyes light up in the soft glow of the hotel room’s incandescents as he dips his head back to laugh, “I swear to god, it’ll be a miracle if we pull this off.”
“Have a little faith in my acting abilities, baby,” you bat your lashes heavily, your voice turning soft and overly sweet. It probably didn’t help that you were functioning on almost nothing but coffee and pizza at this point.
He immediately pushes up from the chair, “I’m heading to bed before you make me hurl my food into the damn sink.”
“Don’t say that, sweetie-kins!” you coo, flopping over on the bed as you watch him collect the pizza box and methodically crush it in half to fit into the small black garbage can.
“Maybe I’ll call Guy up and see if he’s still available,” he muses with an irritated tone of voice, just to spur you on further as he nabs his toiletry bag and heads into the bathroom - leaving the door ajar.
“Now that is a show I would pay money to see,” you finally relent the act, pushing back the white comforter on your bed.
It only takes him a few minutes before he emerges. Jake smirks as he makes his way back to the bed, wearing nothing but his white t-shirt and briefs. 
It must speak something to his level of exhaustion that he doesn’t even bother to make a you like what you see sort of comment. Not that you’d never seen him, or any other member of your squadron for that matter, in that level of undress before during pre-flight suit-up. But being at near eye-level in a hotel room was definitely a change in pace, though you also choose not to comment on it.
He merely rolls his comforter all the way to the end of the bed before he gets under the sheets, “You’re not an obnoxious snorer, are you, honey?”
You heft yourself up and cross the room in search of your own toiletry bag, “Guess you’ll just have to find out for yourself.”
His tone is edged with a false sense of frustration as he grunts a low, drawn-out, “Lucky me.”
When you return to the room, the TV is off and he’s lying flat on his back.
The luminous blue light of his phone casts his face in sharp brightness as he quietly scrolls through something. You let him have his silence as you deposit your shower bag on your side of the dresser and carefully place your folded bra back into your backpack.
Only once you’re under the covers of your bed, with just the single bedside light on, does Jake relinquish his phone - placing it on the charger. He meets your gaze from across the way and, for a moment, it seems like there’s something he wants to say as he worries at his bottom lip.
But he ultimately just gives you a gruff: Night, Pita. Immediately followed by a curt nod before he turns off his light and rolls over to face toward the door. 
With a shake of your head, and an accompanying: Goodnight, Hangman, you roll towards the window and try to settle in to sleep.
The sound of rustling sheets and agitated breaths fills the room for some time before the whirl of air conditioning kicks on. And then it’s only a matter of time before the darkness and the white noise soothes you into the lull of proper sleep.
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ohtobeleah · 6 months
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Battle Scars // Bob Floyd
-> An Official Flight Deck Blurb
Summary: Robert Floyd doesn’t take his shirt off at the beach. But when the shirt stays on during sex? You start to wonder what he’s hiding.
Warnings: Mentions of parental Abuse. Mentions of Child Neglect. Foster Care Systems. Mentions of family trauma. Bob Floyd x Female!reader.
Word Count: 2.1k
Author Note: Day Nine of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: ‘Scar reveal’ Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.
Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist
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People have secrets they keep close to their chest. Some are small enough to not cause a ripple effect onto others, and some are big enough to destroy lives, crush dreams, alter realities. 
Bob Floyd wore his secrets across his chest. Scars that made his torso look like the Rocky Mountains. Littered with small to medium size scars that healed wrong, healed over, or healed with anger. 
They weren’t pretty. If anything he wore a roadmap of abuse on his body that was hard to face in the mirror every morning. He never wanted to subject anyone to the sight of his scars, some red and raised, others faded but turned a deep purple in the cold. 
“Mornin’ gorgeous—“ Bob's morning voice was something you’d never get tired of hearing. Those lazy Sunday mornings where you’d wake up to find the Naval Aviator already awake and reading whatever book he brought with him in his overnight bag were starting to become your favourite thing. “How’d you sleep mama?” 
“Like a log.” You yawned, creeping closer and closer to where Bob sat on the opposite side of your bed. His T-shirt clad back pressed up against the headboard while his legs stayed covered by the sheets and covers of your warm, inviting bed. “I thought I had an early body clock.” Being a single mum and small business owner left little to no time for sleep-ins, which usually meant you were up before the sun got a chance to kiss the horizon good morning. “But here you are, Mr Military Man with your internalised alarm system.” 
Bob couldn’t help but to chuckle as he closed his book and placed it on the bedside table you cleared just for him. Whatever this was between you and Robert Floyd you really liked it. He was the first man you’d ever paid attention to since your fiancé died. Bob was like a breath of fresh air and so was North Island. No one knew you, no one judged you, no one cared about the demons that haunted you. 
“Force of habit I guess.” He shrugged before he sunk lower and lower, meeting your eyeline once again as you both settled in under the warmth of the covers. “How long do you think we have before Oliver wakes up?” 
“Hmmm—“ You tried to hide your eagerness through a hum that kept your lips pressed together in a fine line. “He knows Sundays are bacon and egg roll mornings.” You began as your arms wrapped around Bob's shoulders. 
His lips were hot against the supple skin of the juncture of your neck, in response your body ignited, sending waves of energy through your body that only Bob could create. He was just different. 
“So like, five? Ten minutes maybe?” Bob looked up from where he’d been leaving small
but affectionate kisses against your collarbone and met you with a lust filled gaze. He was falling head over heels in love with you. “Because I only need like two—“ 
“Oh well in that case we have time for two rounds.” You teased before rolling yourself up and over to straddle Bob's waist. He let you easily. If he wanted to, he could have fought back. The thing with Robert Floyd was that he had a sleeper build. He wasn’t as buff as some of the other Naval Aviators that frequently stopped by the Flight Deck for their morning or mid afternoon caffeine hit. With the amount of sugar and caramel syrup you dosed Hangman with on a regular basis you weren’t entirely sure how he managed to maintain his muscle density. 
But for as much as Bob was a gentle soul, he was strong and fast. He enjoyed a long run every now and again. But for all intents and purposes—he let you be on top. He liked the view. After all, he was just a simple man. Boobs were pretty cool. Especially your boobs.
“Can I ask you a question?” You cooed all the while Bob's hands trailed up your hips. You wore nothing but one of those silk nightgowns that made you look like an angel. The bed hair was cute, Bob liked you first thing in the morning. It was a side of you only he got to see. The side before the makeup, before being put together– he liked it. The authenticity. For what it was worth, Bob just really liked you. 
“Depends what the question is?” Bob replied as his hands squeezed at your hips, rolling you gently back and forth over his boxer brief clad length. “I’m kidding, ask away.” 
He had been expecting the question sooner rather than later. And with how things were going between the two of you Bob knew he would have to come clean. He was just afraid of what you might say. What you might think, and if his scars would be a deal breaker. They were, after all, a part of him that he couldn’t get rid of. 
But even expecting the question to come didn’t make it any less hard to hear. 
“How come you never take your shirt off?” You wanted to approach the question as politely as possible. “You don’t have to tell me, if you aren’t comfortable, I just—I’ve just noticed.” You saw the hesitation in Bob's baby blue eyes as he searched your face for any kind or fear. “Again, you don’t have to tell me.” You reminded the man lying beneath you as his hands stilled on your hips. “But I want you to know that if you’re hiding some sort of third nipple under there—I’m all for it.” You tried to make the conversation a little more lighthearted, Bob could appreciate that. He smiled softly at you while his hands needed at your hips like dough. 
Bob didn’t say much after that, he simply laid beneath you stroking his hands up and down your exposed thighs as his mind ran rampant with memories. He hated his scars, but most of all he hated the people who gave them to him. 
“You’re a waste of space!” The memories were all too prominent even after all these years. “I wish I never gave birth to you!” His mothers words were as cruel as she was violent and unpredictable. 
“You’re the abortion I wish I fucking had.” The abuse Bob endured went with him everywhere, even well into his adult life. He learned not to complain, to cause a scene. “Stop crying for fucks sake kid.” He learned not to show emotion when it wasn’t asked or needed. 
“You did this to yourself, if you had stayed out of the way, none of this would be happening.” But most importantly he blamed himself, for hiding his scars that clearly showed how strong he really was. 
Bob sat up to meet your eyeline. For a man haunted by so many scars he certainly had the softest of eyes. He gently tucked your hair behind your ear and placed a fleeting kiss against your forehead, all before he reached up and over to take his shirt off over his head. 
What you saw rendered you speechless for a few moments as you took in the terrain that was your, well, you wanted to say boyfriend but Bob wasn’t even officially that, torso—littered with scars he surely would have called ugly on the best of days. 
“It’s a lot.” Bob whispered just barely above an audible level as he chucked his shirt off to the side. “But they’re not going away, ever.” It was almost as if Bob had struggled with that notion himself. He wished he could have them removed—expunge from his record. The tales of parental abuse he suffered before collecting more in the foster care system. 
“Oh Bob—“ You tentatively reach out to glide your fingers over one of the many scars that were angry, red and what seemed to be risen. “You don’t have to hide these from me, ever.” Bob's heart was racing a million miles inside his chest, no one had ever touched him the way you were now. With so much love, with kindness, with understanding. “What happened here?” Your fingers gently glided across the scar down near the waistband of Bob's boxers. Right above his hip bone. 
“One of the kids in one of the foster homes I was in.” Bob began, you could tell he was uncomfortable talking about it, but you didn’t stop him. You knew if anything he would stop if he didn’t want to talk about it. “I think his name was Ryan, had an old bow with those barbed edges on it.” You knew where the story was going. “It got wedged in there deep when we were playing around, but our foster parents didn’t have insurance, so they weren’t gonna take me to get it removed—so they ripped it out and poured bourbon over it.” Your heart sank into your stomach. “I was nine.” 
“That must have hurt a lot.” You replied gently as Bob laid back down in your bed with his hands resting behind his head. His roadmap of scars on full display. “What happened here?” You moved your hand to the longer scar across his left peck. It seemed less angry, more healed, but the story attached was just as heartbreaking. 
“When I was eighteen I went back to see my parents.” Bob's eyes were tearing up. He hadn’t ever spoken about this to anyone. Not even the people he trusted with his life. You were the only one. “It was a mistake, I shouldn’t have, but I needed some closure.” Your fingers gently ran the expanse of the scar that had never been touched but another person. Bob wanted to stop you out of fear you’d leave—but he willed you to continue because it felt comforting to be touched with such warmth. “My dad ran at me with a knife the second he saw me—I remember he was rambling on about how I broke my mum's heart when I went with CPS. I’m lucky it was only a graze, he still got me good enough to leave a scar though.” 
“Bob, honey, I don’t even know what to say.” You were a mother yourself. You couldn’t ever imagine doing anything of the sort to your son. Bob reached up to guide your hand across his torso to his wrist—you’d seen those small circle cluster scars time and time again but never bothered to ask what they were from. 
“These are from where my mum and my foster mum would put their cigarettes out on me.” Again, it made your heart sink, but Bob never faulted as he guided your hand around his body, back up to his stomach just above his belly button. Ridged abs peaked through the softness of his skin. “This one is from when I had to have surgery after I got an infection. Doctor said I could have died if my friend and I didn’t walk ourselves to the emergency room.” 
Bob wanted you to touch every last scar that littered his body, he wanted your gentle touch to heal his old wounds. So you let him guide you as your straddled his waist and looked down at the roadmap of torture. 
“These smaller ones are from when my dad swung the whipper snipper at me, I was in his way, I shouldn’t have been there, I remember they wouldn’t stop bleeding and ruined a bunch of my shirts.” 
“None of these are your fault.” All his life, until he joined the Navy and ran as far away as he could, Bob had been told every scar he collected was his fault. The abuse he suffered as a child, from his parents and in foster homes, was his fault. “Someone who loves you doesn’t do this to you.” You reminded the man who laid beneath you. He could hardly breathe with how hard his heart was hammering in his chest as your hands trailed over the expanse of his torso. “Bob I don’t know your history, but from what I can gather about you in the present you are all but the problem.” You were the first person to ever tell him he didn’t deserve the scars he wore, the scars he hid. 
“You’re a really good person, you know that right?” Flashes of your own war blinded your vision for a moment. The lies and haunting rumours that had you running as far away as possible could came flooding back to you in a blur as Bob sat up to kiss your lips softly, tenderly, and all so lovingly. “You don’t know how much you mean to me baby.” The term of endearment sent a shiver down your spine you weren’t expecting. But you welcomed it nevertheless. Bob was a dream, your new beginning. 
“I reckon you’ve got about three minutes to show me.” You teased, deciding now was not the time to bring up your dead fiancé. “With the shirt off—“
***~***~***~***~***~***~
Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt
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bloosomjoon · 1 year
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tg:m sociall media college!au where jake try whatever it cost, to get close to his favourite barista and for once get his coffee for free or where jake fell in love in pheonix best friend
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allylikethecat · 1 year
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Chapters: 21/? Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick (2020) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw/Jake "Hangman" Seresin Characters: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Natasha "Phoenix" Trace Additional Tags: Mpreg, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Enemies to Friends to Lovers Summary:
“Your blood work came back inconclusive,” Lieutenant Commander Stone said, looking over her iPad. She was a no nonsense woman, a second generation naval surgeon with dark hair pulled into a low bun beneath her scrub cap.
Bradley blinked. He was on the tail end of his mandatory twenty four hour observation. He was scheduled to be released from the Med Bay within the next hour, providing that he didn’t suddenly keel over between now and then. Mav was snoring softly in the bed next to him, taking advantage of the uninterrupted peace and quiet before he was thrown back to the wolves.
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make-me-imagine · 1 year
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Fic Re-Posts
It was brought to my attention that my entire Secret Santa Top Gun story was copied and posted on wattpad.
I have made a comment for them to remove it, but I recognized at least one other fic that I THINK is yours @fanboygarcia (here is the story I saw, I hope it's yours otherwise I can't remember who's it was , I just know I've read it)
They do state in the title and description of the book that the fics are not theirs. BUT I certainly did not give them permission, so I doubt they asked anyone else if they could repost their fics. And they also do not provide proper credit to any of the authors.
They have not only Top Gun fics, but also Tmnt and Star Wars. The book is linked here; their username is Cadelonimbus
They may have other books as well with stories taken from tumblr as well.
xx
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