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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 1 month

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The Cute One With the Glasses

Robert 'Bob' Floyd x Reader

Description: When you have to take the little girl you look after to the hospital, you're never expecting to find someone who you'd definitely like to see again. Little do you know that he wants to see you just as much as you do him.

Themes: Hospitals, Toddlers, Injured Toddlers, Mentioned Injuries, Broken Bones

Word Count: 3400

A/N: Hiya, everyone! I've been working on this idea off and on for a couple of months and finally finished it! I don't know why, but I've been on a real Bob kick recently. So have this ridiculously fluffy, cute fic! Thanks to @sarahsmi13s who read over this fic for me and caught one huge plot hole!

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

My Masterlist

You can feel the panic clawing at you, sinking wickedly sharp claws into your lungs as you force yourself to put one step in front of the other. Your only other focus as you walk is to keep from jostling the small, slight form in your arms.

“You're going to be okay, sweetheart, I promise.” You mutter the words with each step you take, a constant litany that soothes your frenzied mind and valiantly tries to push back the panic. But it doesn’t work. You feel like you're drowning as you scribble out her name in the emergency room, Ivy Seresin, in your looping, jagged handwriting. Your charge is valiant as she grits her teeth, big green eyes glistening with tears as you carefully settle her into your lap after filling out the papers. Her dad is going to murder you for this. When he gets out of his jet and can hear the frantic voicemails you left him, he’s going to march down to the base hospital and fire you.

After all, what kind of babysitter are you? You’d walked into the house for only a couple of minutes to answer the phone. You had rushed back out to the shrieks and squeals of a little girl in pain, lying stunned under the colossal backyard playset her dad built for her when she could walk. You’d bundled her into the car the minute you realized, your mind racing at a million miles per hour while doing your best not to jostle her arm. She sobs wearily into your chest, her soft blonde hair mussed and tangled.

“Miss Seresin?” You startle out of your thoughts, the nurse’s voice pulling you from where you’d been cuddling Ivy. “The doctor will see you now.”

“C’mon, pretty girl,” Your voice is wobbly as you carefully stand up with Ivy in your arms. “The doctor’s going to make you feel much better, and I bet your daddy will be right here before the doctor’s done looking at your arm!”

You feel strung tight, close to tears, even though you’re not hurt at all. Big drops spill from Ivy’s eyes as you set her down on the hospital bed, her small form looking even smaller when the bed is so much larger than she is. It’s made worse when she won’t let you go, either. Her uninjured hand is fisted securely in your soft t-shirt. This is the stalemate the nurse sees when she walks in. She’s a beautiful brunette with a pert upturned nose and a sweet smile on her face.

“Hello. I’m here to see a Miss Ivy Seresin?” Her voice is as musical as you expect it to be. “And that must be this pretty little girl here?”

To your surprise, Ivy nods just once before burying her face into your side. Ivy’s not what you’d call shy. Like her father, she’s the life of the party, bold as brass and far more charming. Normally, she’d have leapt at the chance to show someone just how sweet she is.

“Ivy, it’s alright,” you try to wheedle with the toddler who rules your every waking moment. “The nice nurse is just trying to look at your booboo.”

“Yeah!” You smile when the nurse jumps in. “I’m Nurse Willis, and your momma is perfectly right. I just want you to tell me where the booboo hurts!”

Ivy sniffles before finally revealing her little tear-streaked face. Her voice is petulant as she says, “This isn’t my momma. This is Lia. She’s my, uh….”

Ivy’s little face scrunches up in thought, “my baby-keeper?”

“I see…” You shrug at the laughter in the nurse’s voice. You’d normally be giggling, too, if you weren’t so worried about your charge. “Well, then. It’s a pleasure to meet you both, Miss Ivy and Miss Lia.”

“Now then, Miss Ivy. Can I please take a look at your arm?” The little girl seems to be thinking, but then you see an all too familiar stubborn mood set in like storm clouds.

“No!” The explosion of sound is too loud and quite shrill, and you’re sure half the Emergency Department hears it. “I’m not letting you touch me until I see my daddy!”

“Honey,” You sink onto the bed next to Ivy and try to convince her. “Your daddy had to fly in his jet today. I called him when we were on our way to the hospital, remember?”

But Ivy just glowers in response.

“His secretary, Josie, picked up the phone. She promised she’d tell your Daddy what happened.”

When the glowering turns into more of those heart-wrenching sobs, you wince and pull out your phone again. You only see the glowing numbers telling you the time - no messages or voicemails. In all honesty, you don’t see a thing from her dad.

“Hey, Ivy.” You soothe, letting the little girl crawl into your lap, uncaring of how much mud is on her shoes as they compact painfully with your shins. Her shoulders shake as she wets your t-shirt with tears and snot. You carefully rub your hand up and down her back in soothing, gentle motions. “Your daddy will be here as soon as he sees my messages! I promise. He’s probably on the way to the hospital right now!”

But your gentle encouragements don’t seem to work. Soon enough, Ivy’s tears stall. But she still doesn’t trust the friendly Nurse as she tries to take her vitals. That’s the scene that the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen walks into. Ivy’s standing on the hospital bed, stomping her favorite patent leather shoes into the paper liner on the bed, streaking mud on the pristine white. Nurse Willis is sitting on a stool with a clipboard, stifling giggles behind her hand. You, on the other hand, are standing at the side of the bed with a hand on Ivy’s back to make sure she doesn’t fall. Your hair is escaping your braid, your t-shirt is irreparably stained with yogurt from Ivy’s mid-morning snack from before the accident, and you’re wearing mismatched socks and sandals.

The doctor, on the other hand, is resplendent in a khaki uniform, with his dark hair coiffed off of his forehead and a shy smile on his face. He’s wearing big glasses on thin silver frames, and if you didn’t find him incredibly handsome before, you do now. But your reaction to the handsome doctor has nothing on Ivy’s. She gasps, squeals, and practically leaps out of bed before launching herself into his arms.

“Uncle Bob!” Now you’re sure you have whiplash. It’s night and day: Ivy’s reaction to the nurse versus her reaction to the Doctor.

“Hi, my Ivy Girl!” His voice is gruff and sweet as he gathers Ivy up, careful to avoid jostling her arm.

“Where’s my daddy?” You can practically hear the pout in her voice.

“He’s on his way, I promise he is.” As he eases into the room and sets Ivy down on the bed, it hurts a little at how he seems able to calm the little girl down with just a few words. When Nurse Willis can finally start taking Ivy’s vitals, you slump into the hard-backed plastic chair with a sigh of relief.

“It’s nice to meet you, Doctor.” Your voice is quiet as Ivy finally begins to behave for the nurse.

“Oh,” He’s blushing as he takes the other plastic chair. “I’m not a doctor.”

He clears his throat a little as the flush rises. “I work with Jake, uh, Captain Seresin.”

“When Josie came by with your message for him, I got on comms and told him I’d come to the hospital to make sure Ivy was alright.”

His voice is soft and musical, and despite yourself, you find yourself leaning in closer to him, needing to hear more. His cheeks go pink under your gaze, eyes darting between you and Ivy. He follows behind you and Ivy as the Doctor leads her to get X-rays done. Nurse Willis follows you as well, flirting with Bob with everything she’s worth.

“Thank you for coming down here like this.” Your voice is quiet as you sit once again in the hard plastic chairs in the ER.

His lips purse like he’s going to say something, and you’re hanging on his every word. Then Ivy is squealing, and the doctor’s trying to get her to sit back down, and it’s chaos. The source of that chaos? The one and only Captain Jake Seresin, Ivy’s favorite person in the whole wild world. Your charge is crying again, big crocodile tears dripping down her cheeks as she plays up her pain with big green eyes and pink cheeks.

In all the commotion, you lose your chance to talk to Bob again. Once Ivy is down for the night, what feels like hours and many sparkly stickers on her little cast later, you march your way down into the bright, airy Seresin kitchen. It feels like you’re marching to the gallows. Nannying a four-year-old girl was not in your five-year plan when you graduated with your Master’s degree. Go figure a degree in Ancient History hasn’t gotten you many marketable skills.

A friend of your parents had recommended you to Ivy and her dad. It’s a pretty sweet deal, honestly. Room and Board, a generous salary, and all the time in the world to yourself when Ivy’s with her dad. The only caveat was how when Ivy wanted you, boy did she really want you. At times, you called her your little dictator in a toddler’s body because sometimes the only way to stave off a meltdown was to give her what she wanted, within reason.

Jake takes one look at you and pushes one of the mugs he’s holding into your hands. “Why do you look so sad, kiddo?”

“I’m so sorry, Captain Seresin.” The apologies spill out of your mouth like an unending fountain.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything, kid.” He sighs as he slumps into his chair. The stress of the day seems to exude from his pores as his fingers tap on the mug.

“Ivy’s strong. You did everything right. You made sure she was safe, that she wasn’t in too much pain, and you got her the medical care she needed.”

Something is haunting in his eyes as he stares down into his mug. “I’m glad you were there. It scared the shit out of me when Josie told me to book it to the hospital. When she said it was Ivy, my mind immediately jumped to the worst conclusions. A broken arm is nothing in comparison to everything that went through my mind.”

You blink and push your chair out with a squeal, pulling the Cheetos from their hiding place in cupboards Ivy can’t reach. It sounds like what the Captain and you both need is some comfort junk food. Coupled with Jake Seresin’s Famous Hot Chocolate™, you’re sure to be comforted.

“I’m still sorry, Captain Seresin.”

“Seriously, kid. I’ve told you to call me Jake probably a hundred times in the past year. When are you finally going to listen to me?”

“Maybe one more time will do it?” Your voice is cheeky as you plunk the bowl of Cheetos on the table equidistant between the Captain and you.

“Fuck, the Cheetos? Seriously?” Jake drags his hand down his face. You’re never going to tell him that you only call him Captain because it pisses him off. You’ve been thinking of him by his name since practically the day you met him and Ivy both. “You know there will be hell to pay if Ivy comes down here looking for one of us and sees these.”

“She’s knocked out after a long, painful day. Her stomach is full of Cheese Pizza and the good painkillers. Baby Girl will be just fine!”

He snorts, picking through the crunchy fried corn sticks for one that’s perfectly coated in artificial cheese dust.

“So….” His voice makes shivers slide down his spine. It should be illegal for a man to look as devious as he does holding a Cheeto. “I saw how you were looking at our dear old Baby on Board at the hospital, kid.”

“When are you going to make the moves on him?”

“Ummm….” You roll your eyes at him. “How about never?”

“Why never?” He crunches down on the treat while ignoring how neon-orange powder sheds across the pristine kitchen table you’re both sitting at.

“Because he’s gorgeous. And sweet. And kind.” You’re whining as you sip on your hot chocolate, quiet because Ivy wakes up even if the dog walks past her door with clanking tags. “He’s so far out of my league it isn’t even funny.”

“Did you see how that nurse was batting her eyelashes at him?”

“So?” Jake’s got a shit-eating grin on his face. “You were batting your eyelashes too, kid. And Bob looked absolutely besotted with you. Even when you were wearing socks and sandals.”

“Tell you what. I’ll pay for your first date with Bob if you write him a flirty little note and make him some cookies.”

“Only if I make him cookies?”

“No, if you make him cookies and ask him out on a date. If he says yes, I will pay for your date.”

“What if he says no?”

“I’ll get you whatever you want.”

“Even one of those ridiculously overpriced mud pack spa days with Nix?”

“Fuck,” He covers his eyes with his hand, uncaring of his orange-coated fingers. “You’ve got a deal, kid. I don’t know why I encouraged your friendship with our neighborhood firebird, but you’ve got a deal.”

Captain Jake Seresin is known for being cheerful on base. He's never without a grin and toothpick. The day after he rushes off because his daughter is in the hospital, he comes in holding a pair of Tupperware containers in his hands, whistling on his way to his office. The Top Gun class scurries out of his way when they see him coming. When Captain Seresin is smiling it means they’re in for rough skies and he’s likely to get tone on each of their jets at least twice. The Daggers aren’t quite so worried. Over the years since the Uranium Mission they’ve seen the changes in their once rash, reckless friend. Ivy was a big instrument for that change. So was the nanny he’d hired two weeks after he found out about his daughter.

In the two years since then, Jake Seresin’s life has been ruled by his two girls, his daughter and the woman he considers a little sister. He’s notoriously overprotective of them both. He’s still teasing and abrasive, but it’s softened. Thankfully, he hasn’t treated Natasha any different than before while at work. There’s a bit more respect in his tone, but that’s about it. And she trusts him now, trusts him with her life in a way she never did before. Right now, though, Jake Seresin is focusing the brunt of his attention on her WSO.

Bob’s changed a lot over the years too. He’s still quiet and thoughtful, the type to have a hundred thoughts hidden behind his stormy blue eyes even as he says one. Now he’s bolder, and more confident. He holds his own amongst the personalities of the Dagger squad. She knows he considers Jake a friend now. Little Ivy Seresin adores him too, chattering on and on about her Uncle Bob any and every chance she gets.

All this to say, Nat knows her WSO pretty well. He’d do anything for his friends, which is why he’d run to see if Ivy was alright the day before when she was in the hospital and Jake was flying. It’s his face when he came back which was new. He’d looked starstruck, far away. There was a persistent flush to his cheeks and Nat wouldn’t be herself if she didn’t want to know why. Obviously Seresin’s got a very clear idea for what’s bothering her unusually taciturn WSO. The two men chat for a little bit, Jake growing more and more animated and cheerful as Bob flushes with big eyes behind his BCGs.

The conversation culminates in Jake handing Bob one of the Tupperware containers. There’s a page on top of the box. Even from halfway across the room, Nat can see the way his cheeks flush even more when he opens the paper and reads the words on it. She’s stalking forward before her plans to be an absolute terror have even solidified in her mind.

“So, Bobby!”

He startles at the chipper sound of her voice, glasses tipping down his nose and his mouth a little oh.

“Whatcha got there?”

If her voice didn’t have the other Daggers gathering around their bespectacled colleague and friend before, they’re definitely gathering around now.

“Cookies, Nix.” There’s a catch in his voice, his shoulders hunching protectively over the note and the tupperware box.

“I can see that, Bobby boy!” The smile she shares with Rooster is anything but innocent. “But who gave you the cookies?”

“Bagman.”

That’s all the information Nat gets out of her tight-lipped WSO. A few hours later, she’s sweaty and mussed in her flight suit and trailing behind him. Now, she finally sees the note.

Hi Bob,

I confess, I don’t really know your name. Jake refers to you as Baby on Board, and I know your callsign is Bob. Is that actually your first name? As much as I’d love to interrogate Jake one day as to why he calls you Baby on Board, I think I’d like to get to know you a bit better. I've been calling you ‘The Cute one with the Glasses’ in my head since we met.

I don’t know if you remember me, the absolute mess wearing socks and sandals at the hospital the other day. Jake basically ordered me to make you cookies to thank you for calming Ivy down, and well, you know Jake. If I said no, he would’ve made my life miserable.

All words about completely melodramatic Seresins aside, I did want to thank you. Ivy was seconds away from a snotty, tear-filled meltdown when you walked through that door. I was seconds away from joining her.

You’re something special, Uncle Bob. Ivy adores you, and you know Jake adores you too, no matter how much shit he gives you. I know I made a less than favorable first impression at the hospital yesterday, what with the yogurt on my shirt and Ivy screaming and everything. But would you maybe want to grab coffee sometime?

Lia

XXX-XXX-XXXX

“So, you’re going out with Lia, right?”

He snorts as he opens the Tupperware container and offers Nat a cookie.

“You just want all the dirt on our relationship, if we get there, don’t you?”

Her voice is a little muffled by sweet buttery cookie goodness, the slightly bitter chocolate melting on her tongue when she responds. “Of course I do!”

“I’ve been wanting you to ask Lia out for months!”

Bob blinks, blue eyes widening behind his frames as Nat grabs another cookie while gesticulating wildly.

“You’ve been starstruck from that first barbecue years ago. But you never got close to her. I don’t think you’ve actually spoken to her in the two years of squadron events. It figures that she asked you out thanks to some pushing from Bagman, because she’s just as shy as you are.”

“She thought I was the doctor in the hospital yesterday.”

Nat grins at the look on her WSO’s face. “Well, it makes sense. You keep hiding behind Rooster or Javy or Payback when we’re at the Seresins and she’s around. It’s about time she noticed you.”

Bob snorts, “Well, it’s a good thing I messaged her already and agreed to meet up for coffee.”

“So you better get Jake to foot the bill for the best date you can give her!”

As if she even has to say that. Nat’s sure her WSO is just as enraptured as her friend is. Bob will be good for Lia, she knows it. Of course she’s going to give them shit. That’s her prerogative as Bob’s best friend and pilot. But she’d be surprised if they didn’t work out. After all, if any two people would be perfect together it would be Bob and Lia.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@kmc1989 @chaoticassidy @shanimallina87 @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @callsignspitfire @roosterforme @beyondthesefourwalls @mak-32 @thedroneranger @cherrycola27

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #bob x reader #robert floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #robert floyd imagine #robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd imagine

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 2 months

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Schedule for the Week of 03/10/2024 to 03/16/2024

Hiya lovelies! The Ides of March are upon us! I hope this week goes well for you all!

03/13/2024 - WEDNESDAY - A new Bob Oneshot

Tagging some of my lovelies for awareness: @kmc1989 @chaoticassidy @shanimallina87 @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @teacupsandtopgun @sarahsmi13s @callsignspitfire @roosterforme @beyondthesefourwalls @mak-32 @thedroneranger @cherrycola27

#star's schedule #star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #bob floyd #bob x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd imagine

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 2 months

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Spring, 2020 - San Diego, California

Chapter 7 Part 2 of You Are My Soulmate

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Description: Bradley's in love. One night with Tinkerbell has already been like no other experience in his life. And he wasn't even alone with her! Now his soulmate's agreed to go on a date with him - and the pressure is on. It has to be perfect. He has to make her smile. Bradley's not sure there are very many first impressions left to make on his soulmate. This date might be the last first impression they've got.

Disclaimers: Misogynistic speech. Mentioned Homosexual Relationships. Angst. Flagrant disregard for protocols or Authority. Angst. Anguish.

This content presented in this story is for audiences age 18 and over only. MINORS DNI. I will not be accepting tag-list requests from Blank or Ageless Blogs for this story.

Warnings: Female!Reader

Word Count: 3207

A/N: All aboard the slow-burn train! It's Roo and Tink's first date and they're so fluffy I could die

Thanks to @desert-fern who beta-read this chapter and made sure it was all flowing right. Your girl got stuck in Angst Central (TM) and got lost trying to write fluff again.

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

My Masterlist

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Rooster

Inviting Tinkerbell to his dad’s birthday celebration had been a better choice than he’d ever imagined. She’d agreed so readily, in a way that was balm to his bruised soul, sitting there on the beach. He’d spent the night split between two foci, caught between his family and his soul, cataloging the emotions flitting across her face just as hungrily as he sucked up the stories of his parents from the people who knew them best. As worried as he had been to invite her into the center of his messed up life, seeing her make herself at home, charming his family as easily as she’d charmed him, had been a balm to his soul. His family adored her. He’d been a little worried, standing in his dad and Pop’s colossal kitchen, that she’d feel lost and alone. Instead, it felt right, seeing the smile on her face, as sweet as the first rays of the sun on a spring morning. All night, Bradley felt his parent’s presence on the ocean breeze. He’d felt their approval, their joy as the wet, salt-laden breeze brushed over his skin.

His heart had lurched painfully when Tinkerbell asked him why he’d aimed words meant to hurt like a shrapnel-filled bomb the night he met her. He’d been less than eloquent, stumblingly explaining his feelings and his fears, trying to distill the rage in his chest, crouching like a disgruntled, hastily awoken hibernating bear. She’d let him chatter on, unblinkingly serious, reminding him of a museum statue, an eldritch being carved from the stone with a brow furrowed in thought. She’d forgiven him just as easily as breathing, too. It was an easy forgiveness made a hard pill to swallow. Bradley’s not sure he deserves it.

There will never be anything but forgiveness between us, darling.

Standing in his small apartment on base, as the morning sun slants in through the windows, weak and watery through clouds, Bradley’s only got Tinkerbell on his mind. Her words resound through his mind, coupled with the resolute look on her face. She said the words like they were facts like she’d be a fool to do anything other than forgive him. Her easy agreement to a date shocked him, too. That his soul would be so easy to trust him when he’d never shown her a reason to?

It makes his decision of a place to take his soulmate on their date even more important. Maybe he’s putting too much pressure on himself. This is just a first date, after all. He’s been on hundreds of first dates before. But this isn’t just any other first date. This is the last first date of his life, and hers, if he’s got anything to say about it. This is the last opportunity to make a good impression on his soulmate. After so long being antagonistic, Bradley’s sure there’s no way he could make a worse impression than he has in the months since Tink came to North Island. But he can make an effort.

If he had the time to plan a bit more, he could have made reservations. But there isn’t time. There are only hours. How can he make today special? Dinner at a restaurant would be ideal. But every place he calls has been booked for months. He’d tried texting Nat, hoping his best friend would have an enlightening idea. The response he got back is less than ideal: I’m sure she’ll like any place you take her, Roo. He’s driving himself crazy, mind running in circles. Pent-up energy crawls through his veins, and the more he thinks, the less he wants to.

Maybe getting out of the house will help? He’s out of the house before he can think, sneakers tied tight as he pushes through the humid air. His lungs burn far sooner than they would have before the accident, twinging in concert with his weakened muscles. He’s got his crutches jammed under his armpits, walking in a slow, wobbly cadence in the sand. It’s as he’s stumbling up the steps to the boardwalk that he sees the flyer. It’s not special by any means, but it should be fun, something Tinkerbell will adore.

The nerves are still crawling up his spine a few hours later when he’s standing on the stoop of the address Tinkerbell texted him last night, facing her green door. He rings the doorbell in a burst of confidence, holding a bouquet in his sweating, clammy hand. The flowers were the first thing he’d ordered when he got back to his quarters, asking if the florist could make something to denote his love and an apology. The resulting arrangement of purple-blue asters, bluebells, white tulips, baby’s breath, and green myrtle is what he’s cradling in his hands. There’s a note included in the bright white butcher’s paper wrapping, asking her to look up the meaning of the flowers. Bradley wants his soul to know what he’s saying, especially since he’s not sure he can say the words without making a fool of himself.

When the door opens, he swears his heart skips a beat. His jaw drops and he couldn’t keep his eyes off his soul if he tried. She’s wearing shorts and a flowy top. Her hair is in a braid, a signature look of hers, and all he wants to do is bury his fingers in the lush strands. He needs to know if she smells like oranges because of her perfume or because of her shampoo. Tinkerbell is just as awestruck and silent, which makes him preen over his choice of a white button-down and dark jeans. He blinks a bit more and then practically shoves the bouquet into her face.

Her nose scrunches as she laughs, her mirth making him chuckle too.

“Let me put these in water, Bradley.” She steps back and tugs him in with one delicate hand on his forearm.

“You look a little nervous, Roo.” Her voice is teasing.

“Well, can you blame me? When I’m taking a girl out who looks as good as you do right now?”

Tinkerbell’s steady hands nearly fumble as she’s filling the vase up. He’s content to watch, drinking in the sight of her moving in her kitchen. His mind is filled with visions of sleepy mornings with Tink puttering about in the kitchen, with him draped over her back, of cooking dinner together, of kissing her skin as she smacks his knuckles when he tries to steal a taste. It’s a dream he’s still not sure he’s going to get to have.

When she turns around and chirps, “All Done!” in that upbeat tone, he pulls her into his arms. He’s been barely an arm’s length away from her since she opened the door, and in that moment, even the short distance feels like it’s too far from his soulmate. She smells even more like oranges in his arms, the scent blending with his favorite cologne, sandalwood, and citrus blending in the air like they were meant to.

“C’mon gorgeous. I promised you a date.”

Her hand finds his as she locks the door behind her and follows him out to the Bronco. He opens the door for her, just as he did last night, and is enraptured again at the sight of his soulmate marveling at his car.

“I love this car.” The words spill out of her voice in a near moan as he starts the Bronco with a rumble of the engine.

The entire drive, he has to force himself to pay attention to the words she’s saying and respond to them like he’s supposed to. She’s talking about his car, asking when he got it, where he got it, and how he’s taking care of it. It’s difficult when all he wants to do is bury his face between her thighs until she’s moaning over him instead of his car. Tonight’s going to be torture. The way her eyes light up and she bounces in the seat when they pull into their parking spot half an hour later just cements his feelings. The only parking spot he found was up at the top of a hill near a big tree. Down below is a sea of cars, shining chrome and polished finishes glinting in the sun.

“Are we at a car show, Bradley?”

He has to thank his lucky stars for the body of the Bronco, hiding his embarrassing, unexpected hard-on at the sight of her excitement as he gets out of the car and opens Tink’s door for her. His futile attempts at calming down don’t help, though, because he’s met with an armful of his excited soul the minute the door opens. He feels like he’s drowning in the scent and heat of Tinkerbell as she yanks him into a messy, filthy, wet kiss. Her hands slide through his hair, short, blunt nails raking over his scalp as he drags her closer than is decent.

When he pulls away, she’s breathing heavily, eyes glazed, and skin hot to the touch. He’s not much better. His dick is rock-hard and aching. All he wants is to whisk her away and make her scream his name, a feeling intensified by the kiss they shared and the whimper leaving her kiss-slicked lips.

We’re taking this slow, we’re taking this slow. It’s a mantra his brain is quickly grinding into dust from over-utterance, a mantra that is not helping the situation he’s encountering. But he has to get himself in check. This is his soulmate. It’s high time he makes a good impression.

“Yeah, Tink. We’re at the car show.”

Bradley has to grin, chuckling a little bit under his breath, as he gets hugged again in a mess of orange-scented hair and warmth. She’s practically bouncing once he pays for their tickets, dragging him in her wake as they flit from car to car. Tinkerbell’s in her element, soaking up every crumb of information from the owners as they show off their cars. Her eyes are wide and child-like in joy as she oohs and aahs over the vehicles.

Three hours later, the sun has set over San Diego. Bradley has his crutches jammed securely under his armpits, and Tink’s bought a commemorative tote bag stuffed with merchandise. His cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and Tinkerbell’s rumpled and gorgeous, her hair escaping from her neat braid as the afternoon passed by in a blur of shining metal and exhaust fumes.

Tinkerbell is also holding a bag containing their dinner in one hand and a carrier with drinks in the other. He'd offered to take something from her, but his firecracker soul just glared at him until he backed down. The bounce in her steps still hasn’t faded away. Some of her boundless enthusiasm gives way to exhaustion when she’s sitting on the picnic blanket he pulls out of the trunk of the Bronco. The grass is fragrant and warm, and they’re far from the only couple to have the idea of a picnic underneath the stars.

“I don’t know how you did this, Bradley, but today has been perfect.”

Her eyes seem to reflect the stars as they take in the vista.

“Yeah?” Bradley’s tongue tied at the look on her face. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like to do today.”

His voice is raspy and low as he whispers the words into his soulmate’s ears.

“I loved today, Bradley.” She curls into his side like she was meant to be there. “A car show? You spent hours today listening to me talk about cars, Bradley. Hours.”

“Of course I did. I picked this place because of that cherry red convertible you drive to base.” He presses a kiss against her temple as he hands her a fork. “C’mon, start eating, pretty. I’m starving, and I know you have to be, considering how you’ve been bouncing around in excitement all afternoon.”

He waits until she’s placed a forkful in her mouth before continuing. It might be a little bit sneaky and underhanded, but there are a few more things Bradley needs to tell his soulmate.

“I never thought I’d have this.” Her brow furrows at the words, eyes widening even as she chews and swallows. “I never thought I’d deserve to have this with my soulmate.”

“Why is that?” After a day spent with a wildly curious Tinkerbell, Bradley can tell when she’s got more questions than answers.

“Bradshaws don’t spend very long with their soulmates, or well, not in recent memory.” As always happens when he’s talking about his mom and dad, Bradley feels the pit yawning in his stomach, and his throat close up as his grief threatens to yank him under again. His heart stutters in its steady beat when Tinkerbell crawls into his lap. With her head over his heart and her arms curled around his back, he feels stronger than ever.

“My dad was younger than I was when he passed away. 24. He was 24 years old.” Tink presses kisses across his face, seemingly content to stay in his lap. “I barely remember him. I don’t know how to treat a soulmate, I don’t know how to make you happy, how to keep you happy.”

“What makes you think I know how to make my soulmate happy, either?” Her quiet question is so at odds with her bubbly, confident personality that Bradley isn’t sure how to respond. “I- I want to make you happy. I want to love you.”

“But I don’t know how to.” It’s a bold statement, spiraling out into the night air. Bradley can see the pain, the worry creasing her face. Her brow is furrowed as her big brain analyzes his words.

“Shhhh.” He tries to smooth the furrows away with his fingers, a gentle caress cupping her cheek. “I don’t mean to worry you. Sweetheart, this is a promise.”

“I promise I’m going to take care of you. I promise to love you, to make you happy. No matter what happens, even if I die tomorrow, I never want you to doubt that I love you.”

This time, Bradley can’t figure out who starts the kiss. It feels like he’s free-falling, synapses firing behind his eyes in starbursts of color and zaps of electricity. Tinkerbell’s warm and solid in his arms, moans slipping out of her mouth as he traces kisses down the firm, supple skin of her neck. Goosebumps rise up across her skin as his mustache rasps over sensitive flesh. He steals the opportunity to suck a hickey against her breast, slipping the neckline of her blouse down until he can smell more of that delectable orange scent emanating from her flushed skin. When he captures her lips again, he swallows the sweetest sigh.

Her lips are spit-slicked and puffy. “You’re not dying on me so soon, Bradshaw.” Her voice is breathy and soft as she settles back down on the blanket, toying with the fork in her meal.

“Oh yeah?” His question, coupled with how he starts to scarf down his own meal, prompts Tink to eat too. For several minutes, only the rustling of the leaves in the tree above them punctuates the silence.

“Yeah.” Tink’s smile is soft as she looks up at the sky. “I have plans to grow old with you.”

Once again, his soulmate takes him by surprise. She’s planned a life with him. She wants to spend her life with him.

“So what do those plans entail?” Bradley needs to know, watching as Tinkerbell’s eyes flutter as she sets her bowl to the side and sips on the bottle of ridiculously overpriced sparkling water she’d ordered.

“You and me, mostly.” She murmurs, tipping her head up to watch how the colors mingle in a riotous mix of red, yellow, indigo, and violet. “But also so much laughter and love.”

Her voice is quiet as she lays down on the blanket, eyes reflecting the skies above. “Maybe a family?”

The grass is cold and damp under the blanket as Bradley settles down next to his soul. She’s got her right arm under her head, eyes wide and wondering as her face is illuminated by the silvery light of the moon.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it, Bradley?” She’s still looking up at the stars, shivering as the cool ocean breeze drifts across her skin, illuminated in the silvery light of the moon.

“Yeah, it is.” Bradley is not looking at the stars. He’s only looking at Tinkerbell. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her lips part as she gasps up at the vista.

The night is quiet and still around them as they chat with each other, their voices barely loud enough to be heard over the rustling of the leaves. It doesn’t bother Bradley. Nor does it bother his soulmate. In fleeting moments, he marvels at their positions. As the night deepens around them, Tinkerbell moves closer, hands against his chest, head pillowed against his bicep. In the dark, all he can see is her silhouette, smell her orangey perfume and feel the heat of her skin against him. Even lying on the hard ground, he feels more at home than he's felt in a long time.

Bradley wakes up to weak, watery sunlight and fat raindrops splattering across his face. Tinkerbell’s still fast asleep, her face buried in his chest, her weight more comforting than a weighted blanket as her limbs entangle with his own.

“Hey, Tink.” Her nose wrinkles as she clutches tighter to his shirt and nuzzles even further into his chest.

“C'mon, sweetheart. It's 7 A.M. We have work today.”

Her head jolts up so fast it nearly impacts his chin.

“Shit!” Braley's not sure he’s ever heard Tinkerbell curse before. Now all he wants to do is hear her curse some more.

She's mussed and indescribably gorgeous as she chivvies him up off the blanket and into the Bronco.

“I'll get you home in no time, Sweetheart.”

Tinkerbell’s smile is like the sun filtering through rain clouds, golden and gorgeous. “Are you going to kiss me at the door, too, Bradshaw?”

That's exactly what Bradley does. He presses his soul up against her dark green door and kisses her until her lips are swollen and her eyes are lidded. She whines, quiet and strung out when he pulls away.

“I'd come join you in the shower, Sweets, but we need you clean, not dirty before work today. It'll also make us both late. I don’t think we need any more demerits after the past few months.”

Her laugh curls warm in his chest. “We really don't, Bradley.” With a snick, that pretty green door opens and his soulmate leaves him with that heart stoppingly sweet grin.

They're both a little late on base that morning. Commander Grayson glares when he sees Tinkerbell walk in, Bradley following behind her like a lost puppy. Mav just sighs and orders Bradley to do a hundred pushups as Tinkerbell giggles. In the grand scheme of things, there are worse things he'd do for his soulmate than one hundred pushups. His arms hurt like hell that night though.

Yeah.

He didn’t regret it one bit.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON TUMBLR, WATTPAD, OR AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN ON TUMBLR, WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@roosters-girl @infamous-reindeer @caitsymichelle13 @mattyskies @cosmic-psychickitty @mygyn @julesclues @greenbaby12 @bubblegumbeautyqueen @briseisgone @soulmates8 @meganlpie @captain-fandomwriter58 @caidi-paris @mazzbarnes @super-btstrash-posts @eli2447 @chaoticassidy @kmc1989 @abaker74 @marvelouslyme96 @faithiegirl01 @shanimallina87 @harrysgothicbitch @zombicupcake3 @djs8891 @bellaireland1981 @tsumudoll @scoliobean @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @callsignspitfire @roosterforme @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls @thedroneranger @cherrycola27

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #you are my soulmate #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #soulmate!au #miscommunication

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 2 months

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Schedule for the Week of 03/03/2024 to 03/09/2024

Hiya Lovelies! Happy March! Here's what we've got coming up this week!

03/06/2024 - WEDNESDAY - Chapter 7 Part 2 of You Are My Soulmate

Tagging some of my lovelies for awareness: @roosters-girl @infamous-reindeer @caitsymichelle13 @mattyskies @cosmic-psychickitty @mygyn @julesclues @greenbaby12 @bubblegumbeautyqueen @briseisgone @soulmates8 @meganlpie @captain-fandomwriter58 @caidi-paris @mazzbarnes @super-btstrash-posts @eli2447 @chaoticassidy @kmc1989 @abaker74 @marvelouslyme96 @faithiegirl01 @shanimallina87 @harrysgothicbitch @zombicupcake3 @djs8891 @bellaireland1981 @tsumudoll @scoliobean @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @callsignspitfire @roosterforme @beyondthesefourwalls @mak-32 @thedroneranger @cherrycola27

#star writes #star's schedule #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun rooster #rooster fic #soulmate!au

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 2 months

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Spring, 2020 - San Diego, California

Chapter 7 Part 1 of You Are My Soulmate

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Description: After your inquiry, you've been feeling oddly adrift. It feels weird, being back in your house, in your life like you belong in it. Things feel different. A chance encounter with your soulmate on the beach has you falling into something which seems incredibly close to love.

Disclaimers: Misogynistic speech. Mentioned Homosexual Relationships. Angst. Flagrant disregard for protocols or Authority. Angst. Anguish.

This content presented in this story is for audiences age 18 and over only. MINORS DNI. I will not be accepting tag-list requests from Blank or Ageless Blogs for this story.

Warnings: Female!Reader

Word Count: 3880

A/N: You all remember how I teased you with slow burn a year ago, right? We're finally starting to feel the burn now. I know it's taken me nearly a year to get here, but now is when we're going to have some sweet fluff for Tink and Rooster!

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

My Masterlist

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Tinkerbell

You’ve found yourself retreating to the ocean more often since the day of the inquiry. The crashing waves help you process everything that has happened over the past few months. You've been struck with so much pain, sorrow, and guilt; at times, it feels like you were barely living at all. You’re not sure if you actually lived through those horrible months or if a robot took control of your body. Some of the same feelings came back to you when you walked into your hangar on base the day after the trial.

The work is the same. Your team is the same. Yet, you can’t help feeling like everything has inexplicably changed. Your team has flourished under Commander Greyson's steady, quiet leadership. In your darkest moments, you wonder if they wouldn't be better off without you at the helm. You can't deny that Commander Greyson is brilliant at what he does. There would be so much your team can learn from him - so much you can learn from him. Even the drone project for Admiral Cain is completed with so much detail it makes your head spin. It feels odd, being back on the North Island Naval Base as notorious as you are. It leaves you with a prickling, itching sensation of being seen.

Jake and Javy had dogged you relentlessly that first day, spending all their time off hops draped over the worn sofa in the AMDO hangar in turn like a pair of eager, hungry, sweet Dobermans. They never hesitated to growl at the gossip floating around, even before your inquiry. But you chased them away after the first day, knowing you needed to stand by yourself. Being back home, in your actual house, helps too. The familiar sights and smells wrap you in a warm hug. So does being able to tinker with your cars and motorcycles.

But what you've missed the most when staying with Jake and Javy was having the sea nearby. The crashing of the waves, the salt in the air, the way the sand is rough under your feet. Every night, you had taken to languidly strolling at the tide line, relishing in the prickle of small seashells against the pads of your feet in the wet sand. The rush of water soothes the roar of your thoughts and grounds you. If only it could soothe your unconscious mind as well as the sea soothes your conscious thoughts.

Of course, nothing can soothe your thoughts, not even the rush of the ocean in the distance as Bradley opens the passenger side door for you in front of a gorgeous off-white stucco house. The long, shaded drive is packed with cars, and you can feel your nerves with every footstep you take. You willingly take hold of a couple of the many tote bags full of alcohol Penny had given Bradley because you may not be sure what you’re doing here. You're still not sure why you accepted his invitation to celebrate his dad. Still, at least you can cart alcohol into the colossal house.

When the door opens, it's to a wall of pure sound. You're shell-shocked by it but more so by the slight man with dark hair and green eyes standing at the threshold.

“A-admiral Mitchell!” With your arms encumbered by the bags, you can’t salute, though a part of you wishes you could.

“At ease, Lieutenant Commander.” His grin is mischievous, and his voice is sardonic. “Come on in. I'm glad Bradley finally got off of his ass and invited you out to meet us.”

Your smile is nearly a grimace as you follow Admiral Mitchell into the kitchen and set the bags down on one of the counters. You turn and brush invisible dust off of your fingers. Admiral Mitchell's looking at you with a knowing smile on his face.

“I guess he didn't tell you he was bringing you here?”

You shake your head and let him take the bags out of your hands. “Well, you’re always welcome, kid. And please. Call me, Mav.”

The door swings open again, and this time, you’re hit with a waft of that sandalwood scent that you’re quickly coming to adore. It's Bradley, and you're not sure why, but he's easily holding all of the other bags, bulging with bottles of alcohol in his brawny arms.

“Hey, Baby Goose!” You grin at the naked affection in the other man’s words. “It took you long enough to get Tinkerbell to come here.”

“But, kiddo, you could’ve at least warned her what she was walking into!”

Maverick Mitchell looks like he’s practically leaping for joy. You have to stifle your snicker as a blush crawls its way up Bradley’s neck.

“It was a spontaneous invitation, Dad.” Now, the endearment has you looking wide-eyed at Bradley.

“Go on, get all the drinks in the kitchen. Ice is out in the backyard, manning the grill. All of the others are out there, too. Grab whatever you’d like for yourselves, and get on out there!” Mav seems quite content to ignore the look on your face, skirting around you and Bradley in the hallway and disappearing through an arch at the end of the hallway when someone calls his name.

“Come on, Tink.” You follow his broad shoulders as he leads you through the house. The walls are covered with pictures, a lot of them depicting a tow-headed boy in various stages of growth. Of course, you realize they're Bradley when you see his graduation pictures right next to his Officer promotion pictures on the wall. When you walk through the same arch Mav disappeared through, you’re spellbound at the sight of the sun setting through the big picture windows. There are fairy lights strung through the trees and music playing. On an impromptu dance floor, you can see couples dancing.

There are a lot of people floating through the backyard. You recognize most of them from dossiers and others from reputations built on hearsay in the Navy, and all of a sudden, you're absolutely sure you shouldn't be here at all. The icing on the proverbial cake is when you see Mav kissing Iceman, yeah, that Iceman, tenderly on the lips.

“Yeah, Dad and Pops are soulmates.” You squeak just a little as those words hit.

“So you’re telling me your dad, Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell, and your Pops, Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky, the COMPACFLT of the US Navy, are soulmates?”

You’re sure you can be excused for your tone. This is a whopper of a secret to find out. Bradley takes one look at your face and snickers like he can’t believe the expression on his face. You poke your elbow into his side gently, trying to make him let up on his teasing. You’re not serious about it, enjoying the light air between the two of you. But when Bradley wraps his arm around your waist, you have to sigh at the warmth his arms bring you. He stops moving when he’s wrapped around you, one hand securely holding his beer, the other curled around your front like it was made to be there.

His sandalwood scent wraps you up as securely as his arms do. Standing here, seeing the sun setting behind the party happening out in the yard, it almost feels like you can do this - be soulmates with Bradley Bradshaw. Obviously, there is a lot you still need to talk to him about. But, the warmth Mav has shown you as some of Bradley’s only family goes a long way.

“It’s beautiful here,” you hum as you sip from your icy cold cider bottle, relishing in the condensation dripping onto your sun-warmed skin.

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” There’s something reverent in Bradley’s voice as he looks out over the yard with its sprawling green lawn.

“I’ve always wanted to have a life like Mav and Ice’s.” He smiles softly, his eyes sparkling in the golden light of the setting sun like amber shot through with motes of molten gold.

“My mom and dad have a house, you know?” You gasp and slide your fingers down until they’re laced with his across your stomach.

“It’s in Virginia. They got acres of land with the property. My mom’s parents gave it to my mom and dad when they got married. I can’t help but wonder if everything would have been different if I still had them both with me.”

“They loved you, Rooster. I don’t have to have met them to know that. They would have adored seeing the man you’ve become, Bradley.”

“I know they would have, Tinkerbell. I wish I could make that house a home, is all.”

“Who is to say you still can’t?”

“Who would want to build a life with me, anyhow?” There is sorrow in his voice, the same emotion streaking across his face in a flash.

“Well, I know I would be willing to try?” You’re not sure what prompts the words to spill out of your mouth. They feel so right on your tongue. The words also leave you feeling oddly vulnerable because they’re the vocalization of a dream you’ve been carrying yourself for a very long time. Bradley’s sweet intake of breath makes something light up in your chest.

“I’d like that,” he chuckles, “C’mon. Let me introduce you to everyone here. They’re the closest things to a family I’ve got. I want them to like you, but chances are, they’ll love you. They might not love me once they hear what happened, though.”

You slide your drink onto a table and slip your arms around his waist. His arms curl around you tenderly. His lips feather against the top of your head in a soft, barely there kiss.

“They’re your family, Roo. They’re going to love you no matter what.”

He chuckles ruefully at your earnest words.

“They’re going to love you too, Tinkerbell.”

With those final words on the matter, you’re whisked out into the setting sun. A part of you can’t believe you’re out here rubbing elbows with US Navy elites. Every person Bradley introduces you to is another surprise. Before you can blink, you’ve chatted with Rear Admiral Kerner, who asks you to call him Slider, and laughed with Admiral Kazansky. You adore how this colossal cobbled-together family acts with each other. Every conversation is littered with inside jokes and teasing words. But more than how happy you are, it’s gratifying seeing how happy Bradley is. He seems to be in his element, laughing and reminiscing. There have been so many stories of Goose Bradshaw where you’ve seen him wiping away tears even while laughing that gloriously deep belly laugh.

People leave the party in pairs and trios, alcohol-soaked with colossal smiles curling their lips and laughter sneaking out as the ocean breeze brushes through the trees, salt-laden and wet as it smacks into your face. Before long, there are only a handful of the guests left in the garden. You’re not sure when he lit it, but Mav has started up a fire in the firepit, coals glowing red in the night air. You join the rest of the stragglers around the bonfire, settling in next to Bradley in one of the Adirondack chairs.

“So, Tinkerbell.” Your head snaps up so fast at the sound of her voice that it kind of hurts. It’s Sarah, The Iceman’s sister and Slider’s wife (how is this your life), who asks you, “How did you meet our Bradley?”

You swallow your sip of cider hurriedly - nearly choking on the fizzy liquid - caught on the spot as every face in the circle turns to you. Bradley grins as he lays an arm securely over your shoulders. That first night at The Hard Deck feels like it was a million years ago. A part of you can’t believe that it has only been a little over six months. It feels like you’re reliving that night over again when you recount it. You can taste the cocktails you’d been downing all night on your tongue. You half feel the sensations of Bradley’s hands on your skin as you recount the crush of people in the bar that night and the fear as you nearly get trampled.

You unconsciously turn until you face Bradley, drinking in the sight of his face as he looks at you as you retell the first meeting of your fraught relationship. The electricity you’d felt that night is swarming through your veins again as you finish your retelling. You don’t mention a thing about the words you’d shared with him before leaving the Hard Deck and how you’d cried your eyes out in your bed at home, jet lag and exhaustion working in concert to make the words hit harder than they ever should have.

“That’s such a sweet story!” Sarah has a dreamy look on her face as she reaches for Slider’s hands with her own. They look so happy with each other, true soulmates if you’ve ever seen them. But you’re not one to ask. Since you were a little girl, you’ve had it drilled into your head to never ask someone what their soulmate marks are or even if their partner is their soulmate. It’s considered incredibly rude to do so when you’re not immediate family members or intimate friends. There are still people who do it, but they are rare and mostly do it to be rude. “I’m sure the two of you are going to be very happy together.”

You smile a little stiltedly, not sure how to answer that because while things are good between you and Bradley right now, far better than that first night anyhow, they’re far from where you could believe you’ve reached your happily ever after. Bradley seems just as discomfited as you are by his aunt’s well-meaning words. He joins the next conversation topic with aplomb, energy radiating out with him until it seems like everyone is wrapped up in the fun as the music plays low and quiet out of the speaker system. A few minutes later, he tugs you up out of your Adirondack and pulls you down towards the bottom of the garden.

“They love you, sweetheart.” You grin, wild and unabashed, as his words make you light up. Your heart is soaring, but your brain’s still unsure of this sudden need to have him at arm's reach, always touching you, always close. It feels too easy after all the pain you’ve been through.

“I’m glad, Bradley.”

“You don’t sound glad, Tink.” You’ve been trying to keep your emotions from your face, and now, more than ever, you’re sure you haven’t succeeded. The bond between the two of you must be acting up as well because Bradley’s got this knowing look on his face. Goosebumps rise on your arms at the thought.

“I am.” He snorts and slides his Hawaiian shirt across your shoulders. It leaves him in just a white singlet. The top clings to his muscles and almost shines under the golden lights. Unbidden, the words spill out of you.

“I promise I am, Bradley. It doesn’t feel like I deserve this, you know? Being this close to you? Seeing you happy.”

“So what do you want to do?” You fall in love the moment those words leave your soulmate’s mouth. There are no half-hidden attempts to over-explain what you’re feeling or urges to comfort you for something that isn’t a physical struggle. “How can I make it better?”

You shrug, burrowing into the thin fabric of the shirt as the cool ocean breeze wafts across the backyard.

“Would it be weird if we took things kind of slow for the next while?”

“How slow are you thinking?”

“Not too slow.” You’re quick to reassure your soulmate as you wrap an arm around his waist. Even now, there’s an ache burrowing under your skin at not feeling him pressed up against you. “I think we should date each other and get to actually know one another.”

When he doesn’t say anything for several long moments, you start to worry. It has you babbling, “We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to?”

His hands gently slide over your cheeks and tip your face up until you can see the soft look in Bradley’s whiskey eyes.

“It sounds like a good idea.” He chuckles as his lips press against your forehead. “We’ve moved in extremes since we’ve met. We need to get to know each other, care about each other, more than just the feeling of this bond linking us together.”

You feel like you can barely breathe at the look in your soulmate's eyes as he leans in close enough that you can feel his mustache on your lips.

“What do you say about dinner? Tomorrow night?”

You hum in thought, aching to press your lips to his. His body is a line of heat pressed up against yours, and you want more.

“I’d love to.”

His exhale of joy brushes damply across your lips, and at that moment, you can’t resist pressing upwards. His lips are petal soft and gentle as they slide over yours. It’s a sensation in direct counterpoint to the rough bristles of his mustache. Your arms slide around his thick neck, fingers catching at the furrowed scars on the smooth skin. Bradley’s breath catches as you trace lightly across the slightly raised skin. If he’s this responsive to your touch, what would he do if you were tracing your lips and tongue down his throat?

When he pulls away, you whimper, actually honest-to-god whimper, at the feeling of his skin leaving yours.

“Slow, sweetheart.” He chuckles as he pulls away, a tender smile curving his lips. “We said we’d go slow, right?”

“Fine,” you huff, licking your lips in a futile urge to taste more of your soulmate on your skin. If it’s any consolation, Bradley seems to be just as affected by that slow, languid, blood-boilingly hot kiss as you are.

“Tell me more about your dads.” It’s a plea closer to a demand than it should be. But you have to control yourself. If you look at him any longer, you’ll jump him. You can’t do that to him, not when you’ve just decided to go slow.

“What about them?”

You grin. “How’d they meet?”

“At Top Gun.” He’s got a faraway look in his eyes. “When Goose and Mav came to North Island in ‘86, one of their first stops was the O-Club. It was one of the only places catering to mostly Navy personnel and was quite famous. That’s where they ran into Uncle Ron and Pops.”

“Did they like each other at first sight?”

“I don’t think so, sweets.” You chuckle and shiver as another breeze makes the lights sway over your heads.

“Were they better or worse than we were when we met?”

Bradley grins and opens his arms to you. You melt into his arms and sigh in pleasure at the warmth of him in your arms. His voice rumbles comfortingly in his chest as he continues, “I think they were worse, sweets. Much worse.”

He sounds sardonic and sarcastic, something drier than the desert in his tone.

“So you’re telling me there is worse than calling me “a little thing who just got her position in the Navy on her knees”?” Your tone doesn’t hold any heat because you know while he said something first, you continued it. You’ve definitely given as good as he dished out.

“Shit.”

You giggle at his hushed exhale because as angry and hurt as you were when you heard him say those words, you’ve forgiven him long ago.

“That was a bad night for me, Tink.” He pulls his hands away from you only to tangle them into his curls as anguish and shame twist his features. Half hidden against his chest, you tug him in closer, soothing his pain with your presence as much as you can.

“You have no idea what you looked like that night, did you? Fuck, you looked so beautiful, it took my breath away. I was hanging on to your every word. From the first thing you said to me, I was seconds away from ripping that little sundress off. All I wanted was to lay you out on my bed and never let you go.”

When you inhale, it feels like the ocean-laden breeze burns. If he felt like this on that first day, how come he didn’t act on his feelings?

“Then that fight broke out. All I wanted to do then was protect you. So I grabbed your waist and got you to that bar stool, holding you there with my back to that room so nobody could hurt you. It would’ve been too soon to kiss you then, no matter how much I wanted to, with the heat of your skin imprinted on my fingertips. Too much, too soon. So, after the fight was broken up, I grabbed my drink and tried to look nonchalant. At least, I did until I heard Hangman calling for you. He sounded so worried like he cared so much for you. I assumed then and there, he was your soulmate. So I backed off.”

“I was in a completely shitty mood the rest of the night. I’d never been so close to someone who I thought could be mine. I wanted you, only you. But I managed to convince myself that you weren’t mine, that you would never be mine. I got drunk. So drunk I couldn’t put one foot in front of the other. I let my anger fester, and when it boiled to a fever pitch, I spat those words out when I saw you walk by, at a volume at which I knew you could hear.”

“I’m sorry, Tink.” Bradley’s voice is a growl, a pained one, as he apologizes to you again. “I’d understand if you couldn’t forgive me.”

There’s so much pain on his face you can’t help reaching up until you’re cupping his face in your hands.

“I forgave you a long time ago.”

It feels like an absolution saying those words into the night air. The disbelief on his face cements your decision even more. You forgive Bradley Bradshaw for all of his past sins, and you hope someday he can forgive all of yours, too. You press a kiss to his upturned jaw just because you can.

“There will never be anything but forgiveness between us, darling.”

“But how?” His voice is disbelieving. “How can we get past this?”

“The way we always have been meant to. Together.” Your eyes are soft as you tug on his hands until they wrap around you again. “And maybe, Roo, you should open that mouth and ask me if Jake Seresin is my soulmate next time.”

When he starts to snicker, you laugh, too. He pulls you in closer until he can press his lips to your forehead. You have many questions about your soulmate. For now, standing here at the bottom of the garden at his parent’s house is enough. You have the rest of your life in which to chat with Bradley. It’s a chance you’re not going to give up.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON TUMBLR, ON WATTPAD, OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN ON TUMBLR, ON WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@roosters-girl @infamous-reindeer @caitsymichelle13 @mattyskies @cosmic-psychickitty @mygyn @julesclues @greenbaby12 @bubblegumbeautyqueen @briseisgone @soulmates8 @meganlpie @captain-fandomwriter58 @caidi-paris @mazzbarnes @super-btstrash-posts @eli2447 @chaoticassidy @kmc1989 @abaker74 @marvelouslyme96 @faithiegirl01 @shanimallina87 @harrysgothicbitch @zombicupcake3 @djs8891 @bellaireland1981 @tsumudoll @scoliobean @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @callsignspitfire @roosterforme @beyondthesefourwalls @mak-32 @thedroneranger @cherrycola27

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 2 months

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Hey I saw your request were open and I’d love to request something! Hey ! I saw you were taking requests and this picture/scene literally has me thinking of AU of Bob being a Dr 😍. This scene literally had me melting and my insides all warm and fluffy .

Hi! I'm so sorry I didn't answer this earlier. I posted the fic, but forgot to answer your ask.

Without further ado, here is Sickles, Snowflakes, & Sharks.

I hope you love it!

#ask me anything #ask your friendly neighborhood star #ask your neighborhood star #star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 2 months

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Schedule for the Week of 02/25/2024 to 03/02/2024

Hiya lovelies! This is what we've got coming up this week!

02/28/2024 - WEDNESDAY - Chapter 7 Part 1 of You Are My Soulmate

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 2 months

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Sickles, Snowflakes, & Sharks

Robert 'Bob' Floyd x Reader

Description: When you find yourself in the hospital fretting over a friend, the last thing you expect is a chance at love. One handsome doctor, some shitty hospital coffee, sickles, snowflakes, and a shark is apparently all you need.

Warnings: Hospitals, Doctors, Mentioned injury to the arm, Mentions of blood

Word Count: 3712

Author Note: Hiya everyone! This is from a request submitted by @emma8895eb. They sent in a gorgeous picture set of Lewis Pullman from Lessons in Chemistry and requested an AU of Bob being a doctor. The gifs of the scene were indeed soft and fluffy, so of course, I had to write a soft and fluffy little fic to accompany them!

Thanks to @horseshoegirl for beta-reading this fic for me!

My Masterlist

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

You haven’t been in a hospital since you were very young. So, it figures your return is due to the fact one of your friends decided to be completely idiotic and stupid in the middle of the night. Who in the world thought it was a good idea to drink in the middle of a snowstorm in a barn?

It's a rhetorical question, of course. Only your friends, your roommates, would choose to do that. As if that wasn't stupid enough, they also decided to jump from the hayloft into the colossal pile of fragrant hay. One of them, Jake, because of course it was him, ended up impaling himself on a still sharp sickle. You were the only sober member of the party, so the consequences had been up to you to handle.

At least you managed to keep him from yanking the blade out of his forearm. You'd run out to the main house in the snow, swathed his arm in towels, and loaded him into your truck. The next step involved booking it to the hospital, of course, but that is easier said than done when it feels like an entire glacier was raining down over your head. The temperature on the dash was edging towards -15°F, and even with the heat blasting, you could hear Jake’s teeth chatter. Something told you he's going into shock. e His eyes were fever-bright, and he hadn't spoken in nearly twenty minutes. If you knew anything about Jake Seresin, the man couldn't shut up if he tried.

So your face is pinched, and it feels like you've got an elephant sitting on your chest when you roar into the Emergency Room drop-off loop with a squeal of brakes and rocket yourself out of the vehicle. You slam the driver's door shut and call for a couple of the nurses in scrubs nearby to help you get Jake out of the truck. Unsurprisingly, maneuvering Jake out of his seat, all six feet of him, is far harder than you think. Also unsurprising is how Jake is laid on a gurney and taken straight away to get some painkillers and X-rays done. Shortly after, while you're pacing the hallway outside the waiting room, a very nice ER Doctor comes out to tell you Jake needs surgery and is being carted away to the OR at that very moment. You can't help but feel a little like a marionette with its strings cut at the news.

When you slump, finally, into a hard-backed chair outside of a surgical suite, you're so tired you could cry. With adrenaline coursing through your system, your hands shake, and you're shivering, too. Of course, given your panic, you also completely forgot to grab a coat or gloves. So you’re sitting in the hospital with snow melting into your hair and soaking into the hem of your jeans. Your feet feel like ice, and you’re so worried you can’t sit still.

“Hey.”

“Hey!”

You blink, and all of a sudden, someone is crouching in front of you. He’s wearing scrubs and a white doctor’s coat. There are wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, and his blue eyes seem to twinkle in the sterile lights.

“Are you okay?” His voice is soft but warm.

When you look at your shaking hands, they are coated in rust, the color staining your skin in streaks.

“I, I don’t know.” Your voice sounds strangled as you choke the words out.

“Do you want to get cleaned up a little?” You nod, a little jerky bobble of your head up and down. His hands are warm as they cover yours, stalling the shivers as they pull you up.

“Truth be told,” He ducks in closer, murmuring into your ear in a way that should not be as sexy as it is, “I'm not supposed to be doing this.”

“But,” His voice makes sparks light up in your chest as he leads you into an elevator and up two floors. He keeps his hand hovering at the small of your back, close enough that you can feel the heat of his skin through your thin t-shirt. “What are the rules for if you can't break them every once in a while?”

The door he opens leads you to a locker room. You’re tongue-tied standing in such close quarters with this beautiful stranger. He turns, and the look of concentration on his face as he tugs out a spare set of scrubs takes your breath away.

“If I didn't know any better, I'd think you made a habit of doing this to unsuspecting girls covered in blood.”

“I, uh… I don't.”

“So why me? You don't even know my name. Nor do I know yours, for that matter.”

“Oh!” His laugh feels like champagne bubbles bursting across your tongue. “I’m Bob. Bob Floyd, I'm a trauma surgeon here at the hospital.”

“Well, Dr. Floyd.” You smile at the slight blush on the apples of his cheeks and introduce yourself. “You seem awfully familiar with breaking the rules for a man of your stature.”

“A man of my stature?”

“Yeah, sweet and kind. Bespectacled.”

“Bespectacled?”

“Yeah.”

His eyes crinkle with the force of his laugh as he tips his head back. A curl hangs over his forehead, and if your hands weren’t covered in blood you’d push it off his forehead for him.

“C’mon, silly girl. Get cleaned up. I’d love to continue this conversation when you don’t look like Carrie.”

Is it wrong to lay the moves on the hot trauma surgeon when one of your friends is in surgery? Your conscious mind is telling you it’s probably not the most moral of things to do. But the other part of you, the part routinely indulging in romances and squealing at the thought of a meet-cute, is begging you to hold onto the opportunity with both hands. You'd truly be stupid not to, you rationalize as you soap up your skin using the bottle of ginger and orange soap Doctor Bob gave you. It smells amazingly, mouth-wateringly delicious, and a part of you wonders if it smells as good on his skin as it does on yours. But you derail the thought before it goes any further and step out of the shower, shivering a little in the cold hospital air.

Goosebumps rise on your arms as you pull on the scrubs before bunching up your soiled clothes. What’s the likelihood Bob’s still out there? He’s probably gotten a call or something and needs to prep for surgery, right? There are probably a million better things he could be doing. You should return to the surgical suites and see if you can coax some information about Jake from a nice-looking nurse.

When you peek around the door, you're surprised to find Dr. Floyd is still there, arms crossed against the broad expanse of his chest, blue eyes narrowed in thought. Your eyes widen, taking in just how handsome this man is. With long legs, made even longer by the slim-fitting scrubs, muscular arms, broad chest, and slim waist, it feels like you're on a roller coaster ride because a flirty stranger shouldn't be this alluring. Of course, your favorite part of him has to be his eyes, navy blue and mercurial, the color seeming to shift depending on his mood and the atmosphere around him. They sparkle in the sterile lights when you step through the door, absolutely dwarfed by the scrubs on your body.

“Thank you for this, truly.” The words trip off your tongue in a futile attempt to stop the awkwardly shy way you've been staring at him.

“I was happy to.” Your breath catches as he steps forward, handing you soft, dark fabric. “Wear this, you look cold.”

Looking at the fine hairs rising on your arms and how your skin textures from the drafty, antiseptic-smelling breeze, it’s an offer you’re only too glad to accept from this sweet doctor.

“Would you, um…” When he drags his fingers through his perfectly coiffed hair, dislodging a curl that falls across his brow, you itch to push it back into place. “Would you like to grab a cup of coffee with me? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’m sure you’d rather check on your friend.”

He’s babbling, and you feel bad as you toe at the pristine tile, murmuring, “I should probably check on Jake.”

It’s his turn to toe at the tile. A part of you is tickled to see he has a charm on his crocs in the shape of the blue shark from that Korean baby shark song.

“What would you say, sweetheart, if I told you I set it up so my colleagues would page me when your friend’s procedure is done?”

You’ve got bubbles crawling up your esophagus, popping blithely in your mind as you look up at this tall, broad man with the countenance of a puppy.

“I'd ask if the coffee in the cafeteria was any better than the cups dispensed out of the machine down the hall.”

“It's a little bit better than the machine, yeah.” There's something like a smile on his face as he looks down at you, blue eyes crinkling in joy.

“Then lead the way, Dr. Floyd.” Your cocked eyebrow and broad grin make him smile more, the curve of his lips growing as he tugs you in the other direction when you start walking the wrong way.

He makes you feel a little giddy as he walks you down to the cafeteria with his hand against the small of your back. When there are two cups of coffee in front of you, your confidence falls completely flat. It’s like you’re no longer sure what to say anymore. Dr. Floyd seems to be just as stymied for words as you are.

You sip on the bitter coffee because your hands are fidgeting and restless. He’s right about the coffee. It’s better than the machine coffee, but not by much. You fish for something to say because it’s awkward sitting in silence while staring at your coffee. If you’re not looking at your cup, you’re staring at your fingers, with nails clipped short and calloused with your work around the ranch. You can’t bring yourself to look your fill at Dr. Floyd, so you sneak looks at him as you fidget.

“So,” you smile, the gesture feeling awkward as your muscles contort. “How’d you get the baby shark charm on your Crocs, Dr. Floyd?”

He chuckles, eyes flashing behind his glasses as he sips his coffee.

“Would you believe it if I told you I’ve only been at this hospital for a few months now?”

You grin softly at him. It looks like he’s thinking about how to describe the shark charm best, brow furrowed and lips pursed. All you want is to know what’s going on in his head. So you’re content to sit in silence.

“My first rotation here was in the pediatric surgery ward. This adorable little girl was going in for open heart surgery. She was heart-breakingly beautiful, with the prettiest smile, despite how sick she was.”

“Is she okay now?” The words trip out of your mouth without your permission.

“Yeah, she’s perfect.” He’s smiling. “I kept her calm before she went under and greeted her when she woke up with a big stuffed shark from the toy store.” He grins conspiratorially at you. “They didn’t have any sharks in the hospital gift shop. She was so happy to see me that it nearly made me cry. She begged her mom and dad to get me a shark charm for my Crocs before she was released to go home. I’ve been wearing it ever since.”

You’re smiling now in total, and when you shyly glance up at him, he’s smiling a smile that mirrors yours. “You sound like you love what you do, Doctor.”

“Call me Bob. Please.” He grins, and you shudder when you feel his feet tangle with yours beneath the plastic table. “Dr. Floyd is my dad. I still recoil and fight this urge to turn around to see if he’s behind me when I hear that name.”

“Bob, it is.” You giggle a little as you sip on your coffee. “So, you don’t swoop in like a knight in shining armor for any old catatonic girl covered in blood sitting in the waiting area?”

“I don’t.” He cards his fingers through his hair, “You’re special, believe it or not.”

You giggle a little uncomfortably. “How so?”

“You looked like you could use some help. It’s true what I said earlier. I rarely find pretty girls in the waiting room and show them places to get cleaned up. That seems to be something I only do for you.”

His smile fades a little then, brow furrowing again. If you were bolder you’d reach out to brush the wrinkled skin smooth again.

“You looked so lost. It’s weird because I didn’t even know your name.” When he says it, it feels like he’s tasting it on his tongue - and it looks like he likes your name in his mouth, too.

“I just wanted to make you smile and flirt a little bit, too.” When he lifts his eyes back up to meet yours, he’s smiling shyly. “So, is it working?”

You grin back and slide your hand out until you can take his hand. If anything, it stops his fidgeting.

“What’s the likelihood of a girl getting a nice piece of cake here?

“I hate to break it to you, Sugar, but we’re in a hospital. The only dessert we’ve got in Jello.”

“Sugar?”

He smiles. “Yeah, you’re sweet like sugar, especially when you smile at me like that. Give me a second. Let me see what I can get for you.”

When Bob stands up from the chair and strides over to the long counter, he gives you a little bit of room to breathe. It shouldn’t be this easy to fall for a man you barely know. There’s a reason why you were goofing around with your friends in an abandoned barn in the middle of a snowstorm, after all. You don’t have a lot of time for fun anymore.

You haven’t since inheriting the ranch from your great-aunt three years ago. There just hadn’t been enough time. In between getting the ranch running again and taking care of all of the animals, you’ve barely been sleeping. There was always something you needed to take care of, whether it was patrolling around the herds to make sure the coyotes hadn’t gotten them or spending hours going over the accounts to make sure there was enough money for food and medicine - for the humans and the animals.

The first calving season had brought you Jake and Natasha in the middle of a rainstorm. They’d originally stayed just to help with a breech calf, and you’d asked them to stay permanently when you saw how the herd responded to Jake’s soft Texan burr and how at home Natasha had been on horseback under the cornflower blue sky, the wind teasing her hair out from its ponytail. Since then, it’s been the three of you and more animals than each of you know how to handle.

You don’t know for sure, but sometimes you think there’s something between your two friends. It’s easy to notice when you spend most of your day only with the two of them or with the animals on the farm. Maybe you should have let Nat drive Jake to the hospital. But with Betsie foaling soon and Nat one of the only people she trusted, you had no choice. You fumble for your phone, digging it out of your bag, and make sure you haven’t missed any calls or messages from your friend.

Betsie’s in labor. I’ve called Doc McCoy. I don’t know if he’ll make it out to the ranch in time, but don’t worry. You take care of Jake. I’ve got Betsie. Let me know when he’s okay.

She sounds angry or maybe stressed; her words sound clipped even over the phone. Either you’ll have to do a lot of groveling or plan to get her some time alone with Jake.

“Is everything okay?”

Your smile feels like it’s disappeared into thin air - like you couldn’t find it if you tried. Your light, easy demeanor is gone, and the burdens of your day-to-day life are back. But you still try to curve your lips up in Bob’s direction.

“Yeah, yeah.” You accept the plate of jiggling multi-colored Jello from him. “One of our mares is foaling back on the ranch. When it rains, it pours, I guess.”

“Is everything alright? Do you need to run back there?”

You poke lacklusterly at the jiggling sweet as you ponder how to respond to his earnest query. “No. Nat’s the only person the mare in question, Betsie, trusts.”

He blinks gently at you before nudging the Jello closer. “C’mon. You’ll feel better if you eat something.” His tone is quietly wheedling, and his blue eyes sear into you as you scoop a bite of the jiggling sweet into your mouth.

For several moments, it’s quiet. You can taste the artificial fruit as the Jello melts on your tongue. Inexplicably, it calms you as the sugar hits your stomach and dissipates the shadows brought on by stress.

“How long have you had the ranch?” Bob’s gently warm voice feels like being wrapped in blankets.

It feels like you’re wrapped in a dream, you and this handsome doctor, as you let the story spill into the quiet midnight atmosphere. There’s nobody else in the cafeteria with you, and it feels like there’s nobody else in the world. Maybe you shouldn’t share your struggles, things you haven’t told another soul, with a man you’ve only just met. But the stories spill off your tongue sweetly.

“The ranch is beautiful on winter mornings,” your voice is quiet as you intermittently sip your coffee. “It almost feels like a completely different universe.”

“What’s your favorite part of those winter mornings?”

Before you can respond, his phone rings. In an instant, it’s like the man you’ve been talking to for so long is a completely different person. His face shutters, his smiling mouth going flat as he listens to the voice spilling down the line. He hums and nods, all those little noises people make when they’re listening, spilling out in his rich, lush voice. You find yourself liking this side of Bob too - the doctor side.

When he hangs up the call and stands up, you scramble to join him in collecting the mugs of long-cold coffee and empty plates.

“Your friend, Jake?” Your head snaps up so fast you nearly give yourself whiplash. “He’s coming out of surgery now. They’re moving him into one of the Post-Anesthesia Care Units. My colleagues on the surgical team say he’s going to be fine. He’ll have to stay at the hospital for another couple of days. He’ll also have to be careful of his arm and not lift anything heavy for the next little while. But he’s going to heal up perfectly.”

You nearly crumple with relief as you follow Bob to the recovery rooms and take your spot next to Jake. The first thing you do when you see Jake again is text Natasha. Between phone calls with Natasha and talking to Jake’s doctors, you lose sight of Bob. As the days pass in trips between the ranch and the hospital, in talking to Natasha, in crying when you see your best friend finally open his eyes when the anesthesia wears away, you’re not sure you’ll ever see Dr. Floyd again.

Was he just a figment of your imagination in the dark hours of night?

You’re signing the last discharge forms two days later when you finally see him again.

“Hey.” He looks sheepish, a small grin curling the corners of his mouth up as he tries valiantly to ignore Jake and Natasha, bickering off to the side.

“Hey.”

“They’re discharging him today, huh?”

You grin at him. “Yeah. I’m glad he’s alright.”

“W-would you maybe want to have coffee sometime, again? Or maybe dinner?” Your heart stutters in its steady beat as you process the words. There’s something like hope growing in your chest before reality rears its ugly head.

“I’d love to. But with the ranch, I’m not sure how feasible it would be to drive an hour into town to have coffee.”

The light in his beautiful blue eyes dims. “Oh.”

“Maybe I can come down to the ranch, then?”

You smile and nod. Jake and Natasha have stopped talking in the background, which means they’ve noticed your conversation with this all too handsome doctor who is wholly out of your league.

“I’d love that.”

“Here,” He hands you his phone. “Put your number in, Sugar.”

When you hand the phone back with clammy palms, he wraps his arms around you in a gentle embrace. You think you can feel the brush of his lips across your forehead.

You’ve got a giddy smile on your face all the way home. Nat and Jake are anything but silent, taking turns asking you what happened in the hospital the night you tore into the Emergency Room drop off. Nat’s a little bolder than Jake is, asking,“So, who’s the cute doctor?” as soon as you’re on the road.

You barely manage to avoid their insistent attempts at wheedling the story out of you until you’ve gotten Jake settled into his room with Nat fluttering about fussing over him. You pull your phone out again in the confines of your bedroom, far away from prying eyes and people who know you too well and can read your every facial expression. There’s a message waiting for you.

Hey, this is Bob. I’d love to come by the ranch when I’m free. Just let me know, Sugar. Hopefully, the winter view you told me about is better than my dreams. I think it will be because it’s got you in it. You have to give me my sweater and scrubs back anyway, doll. So I’ll see you soon.

Taglist:

@desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @teacupsandtopgun @callsignspitfire @roosterforme @beyondthesefourwalls @mak-32 @thedroneranger @cherrycola27 @kmc1989 @chaoticassidy @shanimallina87

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #robert bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x reader #bob x reader #bob imagine #robert bob floyd imagin #robert floyd imagine

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 2 months

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Schedule for the week of 02/18/2024 to 02/24/2024

Hiya Lovelies! After a long time of 2 fics a week, I'm going back down to a fic a week, on Wednesdays! It was a lot of work to have multiple chapters ready per week.

I'm more than ready to take it a bit easy again. So here's what we have coming up this week!

02/21/2024 - WEDNESDAY - A new Bob Oneshot

Tagging some of my lovelies for awareness: @kmc1989 @shanimallina87 @chaoticassidy @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @callsignspitfire @roosterforme @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls @thedroneranger @cherrycola27

#star's schedule #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #robert bob floyd #bob #robert floyd #robert bob floyd x reader #bob x reader #robert floyd x reader #top gun bob #bob fic

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 2 months

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Epilogue - Home is Where the Heart Is

Chapter Sixteen of Sweet Home Alabama

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd), Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd)

Description: Things are better than ever in the year since you and Jake Seresin found each other again on the day of your disastrous second wedding. You can finally say you're happy. Really, truly happy now.

Themes: love, attraction, angst, sex, cheating, lying

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 1353

A/N: And with that, Sweet Home Alabama is wrapped! We've finally reached the Happily Ever After in Jake and Linley's story. Thank you all for reading it and enjoying it. I never expected to have so many people love the movie and my little Top Gun spin on it!

Love you all to bits!

Star

AO3: Cross-posted here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

Previous Part | Series Masterlist |

Falling in love with Jake Seresin again is far easier than you’d ever expected it to be. It helps that you don’t have to get to actually get to know him again. But you do have to rebuild the trust he has in you. At the beginning, after the first night of your second marriage, as you’ve taken to calling it, you’d walk into a room and Jake would startle and look at you like he couldn’t believe you were still here with him. It had been one of the many ways you and Jake had needed to heal together after seven years apart. You’d cried, you’d laughed, and god, had you fought numerous times over the first months you were back in Pigeon Creek. It wasn’t just your relationship that you’d had to contend with rebuilding after all. You’d had to rebuild your brand after relocating to Alabama. Jake is still building Deep South Glass. Obviously, the Bradshaws hadn’t helped at any step of the way. The wedding that you’d nearly had with Bradley Bradshaw had been the gift that kept on giving. Somebody had given the press present your cell phone number and you’d been getting phone calls from anonymous numbers asking for your statement once the articles about the Mayor of New York calling you a bitch had hit circulation, along with professional video from the videographers Carole had hired.

But you’d stayed with Jake, taking the media storm as the first test for your relationship. It was difficult, especially once the press got a hold of your marriage license from when you were eighteen and then proceeded to mob Deep South Glass fighting for a chance to interview your husband. But the challenge was well worth the effort, especially when you have the chance to tumble into bed with Jake every night. Soon enough, the media forgot, choosing to focus on Bradley’s budding relationship with none other than Callie Bassett, and you fell in love with your quiet life in Pigeon Creek again. It wasn’t too quiet, though, not with Natasha flying down every chance she got. But she doesn’t fly down to Pigeon Creek to see you. Instead she flies down to see you, and also to see more of Bob, which is a relationship you never would have expected. It makes you happy to see your best friends in love with each other. You also adore having Natasha in town as often as she is.

It’s been a year since your disastrous wedding to Bradley Bradshaw fell through. You’ve set up a deal with your old mentor, sending him designs in the mail and are working on creating your second full collection. It makes you happy to be creating in a place where you feel so happy. Deep South Glass has grown a colossal following and Jake has presided over three store openings across the South East. There are even talks about opening a shop and store-room in California. Artisanal Glass-blowers and Glass sculptors across the nation want to become a part of Deep South Glass.

Despite the hype, he still makes lightning sculptures on the beach on stormy nights. You always join him. Of late, though, you curl up with Bryant under a blanket, safe and sound in the cab of the truck. It’s overprotectiveness on Jake’s part, coupled with a hearty dose of fear. One late-term abortion was more than enough for the both of you, so you don’t argue anymore when he pleads with you not to lift things or to stay in the car during his lightning storms. He does allow you to join him in the truck though, because it’s tradition at this point for you both, and because you know he secretly enjoys the thermos of hot chocolate you always pack as well as spare clothes and towels.

You’ve got a towel in your hand when Jake opens the door and lets in a cold draft. Bryant burrows even closer to your belly and you smile sleepily up at Jake from within your warm blanket nest.

“I’m so glad you’re not out in that tonight, Lin.” Jake towels himself off roughly after tugging his shirt off. He splatters you with cold rainwater, and you burrow even more under the warm blanket. His chuckle makes you smile as he pecks your pursed lips and downs a full thermos cup of the hot chocolate you hand him.

“You’re smiling at me now, darling, but it’s cold out there.” To prove it to you, he pulls you into his lap and his fingers like ice when they dip under your shirt and make contact with the warm skin of your belly.

You squeal and gasp at the contact and choke out, “Ice, Jake! Your fingers are ice! I was perfectly happy and warm in here, you know? You also woke the baby up! I just got her to fall asleep and not kick my ribs like she was trying to play soccer!”

“M’sorry Lin.” You know he is sorry, especially when he draws the blanket up around you both and his calloused fingers massage slow, warm circles across your stomach.

Instead of letting him apologize, you pull him into a kiss, slow and sweet, content in your perch on your husband’s lap. When you pull away, you hum in pleasure, soothed and sleepy just from the massage, and your growing daughter is fast asleep in your womb.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you look like this?” You press a kiss against his collarbone and smile.

“Every day, Jake. I don’t think you’ve stopped telling me how beautiful I am or how much you love me. You tell me every morning when I stagger into the bathroom, practically sprinting, because our baby girl is dancing on my bladder. You tell me when I’m bedraggled, covered in charcoal and pastels, and sleepless because one of my designs isn’t turning out how I can see it in my mind’s eyes. Above all else, you tell me when I’m scared out of my mind and worried that my body’s going to mess up all of our hard work again.” Jake’s eyes glint in the light which lances down to meet the lightning rods you’re a safe distance from. “I fall in love with you every time, too.”

“I didn’t tell you those two facts enough the last time.” His voice still hitches thinking of that dark time in your life as well as the seven years that followed. “I’ll never know if by saying those words to you, it would have made me enough for you to stay.”

“You’ve always been enough for me to stay. I ran away from you because I couldn’t face myself anymore. But we’ll never know if you telling me you love me would have changed anything. All we can do now is live our lives together, just you and me, with our baby girl and Bryant. All we can do is live as a family, love as a family. We can’t afford to think about the what-ifs in our lives, the ways different decisions would have changed the past. But we can learn from the mistakes we made.” You sip carefully on the hot chocolate, relishing in the warmth sinking into your veins as Jake holds you just a bit closer.

“I love you so much, Linley Seresin.” His lips press gently against your temple. “I’m never letting you go ever again.”

“I’d revolt if you tried to let me go now, Jacob Seresin. You’re in this for life now. Anyhow, I’m going to need you to help with half of the feedings and diaper changes once our little miss makes her appearance.”

“Always.”

When you fall asleep that night wrapped around a hideously expensive pregnancy pillow with Jake’s arm around your waist, you are incandescently happy. If only that young girl leaving Pigeon Creek all those years ago had the faith in Jake and in your love that you do now. Maybe it’s true what they always say. Home is where the heart is. You’ll never forget that now.

Taglist:

@atarmychick007 @the-romanian-is-bae @mshistorylover @buckysdollforlife @blackwidownat2814 @praline357 @seitmai @cheyrenee @trickphotography2 @abaker74 @marrianena-library @angelbabyange @temptest13 @kmc1989 @im-an-adult-ish @chaoticassidy @inkandarsenic @lynnevanss @shanimallina87 @khaylin27 @mizzzpink @emma8895eb @hookslove1592 @leahnicole1219 @djs8891 @midnightmagpiemama @itsdesiree86 @sarahsmi13s @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @teacupsandtopgun @callsignspitfire @roosterforme @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls @cherrycola27 @thedroneranger

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #sweet home alabama #a top gun au #star's sweet home alabama top gun au #jake hangman seresin x oc #hangman x oc #jake seresin x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #rooster x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 2 months

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oh and btw don't worry im 23 😁 - swift anon

🩷🩷🩷Thanks for letting me know swift anon! I hope you enjoy your perusal of my masterlist! 😁😁😁

#ask your friendly neighborhood star #ask your neighborhood star #star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #swift anon 🩷

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 2 months

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hi i just wanted to tell you that i LOVE LOVE LOVEEEEE the way you write. it's like you put so many emotions and feelings in your writing and that too without exaggerating (?) and that's so rare. it's a real talent, i believe. i read the javy x reader tis the damn season fic and it's genuinely one of the most excellently written fics i have ever read. i can't wait to read all of your work. you're an amazing write! hope you're having the best day 🩷🩷🩷 - swift anon

swift anon! You made my day! The emotions in my fics often give me heartburn and I'm notoriously a perfectionist about what I've written. After writing and reading and editing and rereading, I never know if what I've written resonates with someone other than me. So, I'm so glad to hear you're enjoying my fics! I had an absolute blast writing 'Tis the Damn Season and A Hazy Shade of Winter.

I'd love to hear what you think of my fics when you get around to reading them, swift!

All the best to you,

Star

#ask your friendly neighborhood star #ask me anything #swift anon 🩷#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 2 months

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Interlude 4: A Valentine's Day Letter

Part 14 of Sometimes All You Need (A Getaway Car)

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Reader

Description: You've never understood Valentine's Day. You're not a flashy person. You've never felt the need to flaunt your happy relationship in front of other people. Last year, you didn't celebrate Valentine's Day even though you were dating Jake. This year, your fiancé has been dropping hints, like he's planning something special. What you find waiting for you on Valentine's Day is far more special than you ever would have expected.

Disclaimers: None! This is the sappiest fic I've ever written

Warning: Female Reader

Word Count: 3185

Author Note: Happy Valentine's Day everyone! Here, have some Jake and Gorgeous Girl to celebrate the day! I had an absolute blast writing this fic and I hope you all adore it!

Thanks to @desert-fern for beta-reading this fic for me and catching all of my weird phrasing!

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

My Masterlist

Previous Part | Series Masterlist | Next Part

You’ve never understood the thrall of Valentine’s Day. As far as you’re concerned, it’s another capitalist excuse for spending exorbitant amounts of money and parading a happy relationship around. God forbid you’re single on Valentine’s Day, too. You’d made the mistake once of going to eat at a restaurant alone on Valentine’s Day. Faced with so much pity, half-hidden and cloying from the waitstaff and the happy couples in the restaurant that day, you’d nearly given up reservations you’d made months before. Since then, you’ve sworn off going out on Valentine’s Day. In any case, you can get the best parts of the holiday, the candy, the next day, all half off.

Coming up on your first Valentine’s Day with Jake, you’re not sure what to expect. He was deployed on Valentine’s Day last year and then in the hospital. Given how stressful that time was for both of you, it makes sense that you never celebrated. It didn’t bother you then, and it doesn’t bother you now. You've never doubted Jake's love for you. He loves to show you how much he loves you, but he’s never overtly demonstrative about it - something that suits you just as much as it does him. Jake usually saves his flashy tricks for when he’s Hangman up in his jet. But you’re still worried. Your fiancé is the reason why.

Jake's been dropping hints for weeks, practically since you both got home from Texas. He’d started with a simple, “You’re not planning anything for Valentine’s Day, right?” At your nod no, he’d grinned, kissed you, and then drove to work like he hadn’t upended your whole day just by asking that question. Since then, you’ve been noticing these furtive, hidden conversations Jake has been having on the phone. He’s keeping secrets, and you know he is.

You’ve never been good at rolling with the punches, is the thing. If something is happening around you, you’d much prefer to know. Jake knows this, which is why you’re standing in your short robe at five o’clock on Valentine’s Day, staring down at the envelope and rose on your bed. Jake always makes the bed in the morning, and it’s still crisp and pristine now, hospital corners and all. The only thing marring the cream-colored duvet is the bright red rose and the white envelope. You huff as you breathe in the scent of the fragrant bloom and open the envelope, pulling out sheets of paper. The letter, for that’s what it is, is written on creamy, thick paper scented with roses. Jake’s spiky hand peppers words across the sheets, and you slump carelessly on the bed to peruse his words.

My Gorgeous Girl, Happy Valentine’s Day, beautiful. I know, I know. You have a thing against Valentine’s Day. I can almost hear your voice rise up in complaint as I write my love letter to you. “Come on, Jay! You can’t tell me you want to spend hundreds of dollars just to show the world you love me when we both know how much we adore each other!” It’s true, Gorgeous. We don’t have to show the world how much we love each other. But I don’t think of Valentine’s Day as a reason to show you off. Let’s be honest. I don’t need an excuse to show my Gorgeous Girl off. Any day, any time, I’m ready to scream how amazing you are from the rooftops. But today? I want to show you how beautiful you are to me, and I guess that’s why I’m writing this letter. Do you remember that first night we met? When that idiot James had the prettiest girl in the entire place sitting across that small table from him, and he didn’t realize? I fell in love with you for the first time, that night. It feels like fate, looking back at that night. If you can believe it, I wasn’t supposed to be in that restaurant at all. I don’t think I’ve ever told you why I was there, but I was stood up that night. It was supposed to be a blind date, some girl who was a friend of a friend of Will’s. We were supposed to meet out by the fountain, and after an hour of waiting, I was in desperate need of a drink. It felt like a magic spell came over me when I walked through the doors of that restaurant. You were the first thing I saw, believe it or not. You were wearing that gorgeous purple dress, sitting in that chair by the dance floor with your hair curling around your face and the prettiest smile. I nearly walked right up to you and asked if you’d like to dance when I realized you were on a date. So I convinced myself you wouldn’t want a stranger butting in and settled in to watch you. I promise I’m not as creepy as I sound, Gorgeous.

You have to gasp and giggle a little at this point because it makes you giddy, realizing that Jake was just as enraptured by you at first sight as you were by him. You can’t believe a man as wonderful as Jake could ever get stood up, but you can’t help but be thankful that he was. Because now he’s yours, and you are never going to let him go. You sniff at the rose again and pick up the page.

You were fiddling with the drink in your hand, and every time you took a sip, I was enraptured by the little grimace of disgust on your red lips as you sipped on it. By the time you left the table to get a drink, staring at your phone like you were praying for a savior, I was a couple of drinks in and ready to do anything to make you smile for me. So I muscled up to the counter next to you and tried to steal your drink. It’s not the most original of moves to get a girl’s attention, but well, it worked, didn’t it? Fuck. My Gorgeous Girl, if you took my breath away sitting in a crowded room, then you have no idea how hard I found it to breathe when you were standing right next to me. I pushed that Old Fashioned into your hand and begged you to tell me what was wrong. You didn’t know it, but I was already gone for you. One word in that pretty voice, apologizing for trying to take my drink, and I was half in love. I would have done anything for you then. If you’re not aware, beautiful, I’d do anything for you now, too. When you told me how terrible James made you feel, I was ready to march right over and deck him. But then you let go of my hand, and I ached for that contact again. So I asked you to dance. If I thought you were beautiful walking through that door and at the bar, I was lying to myself. Hearing your laugh as I said any outrageous thing that came to my mind as we twirled around that dance floor, I knew you could never be more beautiful than you were then. I was lying to myself again, but I’ll get to that soon. Neither of us was expecting the night to end like it did, with the two of us running out of the bar and James screaming at us as we peeled out of the parking lot. But I’m so glad it did end that way. Because it meant I got to kiss you that night, feel the heat of your perfect body pressed up against mine as you sat in my lap in my truck and made the prettiest noises. Baby doll, I had to summon up strength. I wasn’t sure I had to keep from ravishing you that night. The second time I fell in love with you, it was that night on the beach. The one when you found out how I got my callsign. I told you that night that I’ve never had someone defend me as staunchly and openly as you did. It’s true. I fell in love with you all over again in that moment. You listened to me spill my heart out and kissed me after I was done. I’ve never told anyone else what happened, at least nobody other than my therapist. I half expected anyone I told to run away from me like I was a monster. There you go again, undermining my walls and tearing them down like they’re made of flimsy sheets of paper rather than bricks and mortar. I told you that you brought me back to myself. I was shipped to Lemoore after my air-to-air kill on the behest of your dad, Gorgeous. I forgot about it until I sat down and thought about that night while I was writing this letter. I’m not sure you noticed, and it was probably a mere footnote at the end of your dad’s Navy career. But it changed my life. If my CO hadn’t listened to Admiral Kerner during those days, I’m not sure I’d be alive and here. All my family would likely have left of me is a medal in a box on a mantel. And I wouldn’t have you.

The words swim in front of your eyes as you cry. You don’t want to mar the letter, not when it’s the only love letter you’ve ever received, and you want to keep it for all eternity. You blot the tears away and pull the pages back towards you.

Can I just say how I’m so happy to have you, my Gorgeous Girl? Because I am. You give my life meaning.

We’ve been through some rough times since that night, and I hate that it made you cry. When I crashed that day on the aircraft carrier mere days before I was supposed to come home to you, you were the only thing on my mind. I regretted never telling you how much I loved you. You know something, baby doll? Before I met you, I thought I handled deployments well. I missed my family; of course I did. But it was easy enough to feel close to them when I got the care packages and letters as frequently as I did. But with you? Fuck, doll. You’ve spoiled me. That first time we talked on the phone when I was on the carrier, all I wanted was to wrap you up in my arms and never let you go again. As you can imagine, that’s a difficult feeling to be having when you’re miles away from the love of your life. It’s frowned upon to steal a jet for a joyride across the ocean for a reunion with your girl, though I would have risked it for you. I think I was a knife’s edge away from a dishonorable discharge for the entirety of that deployment. All I wanted was you. I thought about you, dreamed about you, and god, did I ache for your body next to mine in that horribly uncomfortable bunk at night.

So yeah, you were the last thing on my mind when I passed out because of the pain that day. I never wanted to hurt you, Gorgeous. I just wanted to come back home to you. Of course, when I woke up three weeks later and saw your pretty face, I knew I’d hurt you just as badly as if I’d stabbed you in the heart. Baby doll, did you sleep at all in those three weeks? And is it cheesy for me to say you’ve never looked as beautiful as you did when I opened my eyes again in that hospital bed? I promised myself then and there that if I recovered and if I could fly again, I’d beg you to marry me. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to stay with me, in all honesty. I know it must be stressful to have your significant other in danger for months at a time. I shudder to think how I’d act if it were you in a jet and me waiting for you back home, not knowing and praying that I’d see you again.

Of course, as I’m writing this now, I understand how scared you must have been when I told you I was going back to work early. I didn’t understand it then when everything seemed to blow up in our faces, and you told me to “Go back to base. Go back to killing yourself with workouts before you're ready. Go back to having a multi-million dollar missile strapped to your ass going faster than the speed of sound.” I have those words memorized because I think you broke my heart that night, Gorgeous. And you did it to save yourself more heartache. I spent a lot of the time I was drinking in that bar, thinking about you. It shouldn’t be surprising. I’m pretty sure I think about you more than I think about anything else. Some would say I’m just obsessed. But I think I’m just a fool in love with you. The bartender straightened me out with more than just a few strong pours of whiskey. He was talking to me the entire time I was sitting in that bar, feeling sorry for myself. By the time you came to pour me into my truck and take me home, I was ready to beg on my knees for you to take me back.

Instead, I just made you cry again. I always noticed, love. I knew every time you cried those months when I was in physical therapy and healing from that crash. You spent half the day with your pretty eyes rimmed red and your nose cherry red from blowing it. You’ve said so many times that you’re an ugly crier. You’re wrong. You’re beautiful no matter what you do. I don’t understand why you took me back. I still don’t. But I promised myself that I’d be careful when I’m up in the air again. And I have been. I have to be. Those rough few months taught me to care for myself. Because I’m not just keeping myself safe; I’m keeping your heart safe, too. Love, you tell Roos I wrote something this sappy, and I’m never going to do that thing with my tongue that makes you melt ever again. That was the third time I fell in love with you.

You snicker through your tears and re-read that paragraph again. This is why you chose to fight for your relationship with Jake that day. In spite of the Navy, you chose to fight for Jake because you can’t see yourself making a life with anyone but him. Not anymore.

The fourth time I fell in love with you wasn’t that long ago, honestly. It was on Christmas Day when I asked you to marry me, and you said yes. I still can’t believe it, you know? I can’t believe that you would want to marry me, especially after all the pain and heartache I’ve put you through. Really, I wasn’t sure you would want to keep the ring after realizing how horrible my dad is. I know I’ve got just as many of his bad personality traits as the good ones I’ve cultivated since I left home. How do I know I won’t be as terrible to our kids as he was to me? I hope that because I have you, it’ll be enough to keep me from turning into a monster of his making. Gorgeous, I so want to have that family with you. To wake you up in the morning with breakfast in bed and our kiddos toddling about on little feet screaming for their mama.

I know we’re a long way away from that right now and that neither of us is ready to have kiddos running around. But I want that with you, love. I want every bit of the heartbreak and pain and tears that life brings us. But I also want all of the happiness, all of the laughter, all of the joy.

I love you, Gorgeous.

Forever Yours,

Jake

When you set the pages carefully back into their envelope and turn around, you see Jake standing there.

“Did I make you cry again, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” You can feel your face crumple as Jake tugs you into his arms. “I love you so much, you ridiculous man.”

“Why’m I ridiculous, huh, beautiful?”

“Because you make me fall in love with you more and more every day.”

When his body shakes with laughter, you smack his arms with a pout on your face. “Hey, stop smacking me, baby doll! Come on, gorgeous. Wear your pretty purple sundress and come downstairs. I’ve got something special waiting for you.”

Before he walks away, you tug him down and kiss him, slow and sweet. His hands slide under your robe to squeeze your ass, and you moan into the kiss.

“Not yet, gorgeous. Get dressed.”

You’re pouting and grumbling as you tug the sundress on and braid your hair. But stepping into the kitchen and seeing candles lit, you’re melting again.

“What’s all this, huh?” You’re smiling at your fiancé as he hands you a glass of wine.

“We never got the chance to celebrate Valentine’s Day last year because I was hundreds of miles away.” He smiles and shrugs gently. “I wanted to celebrate you last year, but I wasn’t sure how much a bouquet of flowers and a gift would help when I wasn’t here to celebrate with you.”

“So I wanted to go all out this year.”

“And the letter?” You step into your fiancé until there’s barely an inch between the two of you. His eyes flutter closed as you slide your fingers down his cheek while sipping on your wine.

“The letter?” He chuckles, dipping down to kiss you teasingly, a barely-there brush of his lips against yours. “Step One in my master plan. Tell my girl how much I love her in the only way I know how. Without making a fool of myself, that is.”

“What’re the next steps in your plan then, Jay?”

“What do you think of dinner and dessert?” He tugs you by the hand a leads you to the dinner he’s prepared for you, your favorite meal, and then grins.

“So I see dinner, cowboy,” You pout softly. “Where’s my dessert?”

“Baby doll, you’re looking at him!”

“What if I want my dessert before dinner, then?”

Jake’s eyes widen at your audacious words, and you laugh, the sound echoing through the house, as he takes the wine glass out of your slack hand and pulls you upstairs.

“I think that can be arranged, Gorgeous. Dinner can be reheated whenever you’re hungry.” He winks, “For actual food, not just me.”

As far as Valentine’s Days go, you can say this one is the best you’ve ever celebrated. All you needed was Jake.

Taglist:

@love2write2626 @little-wiseone @eli2447 @djs8891 @shanimallina87 @chaoticassidy @kmc1989 @dempy @mamaskillerqueen @abaker74 @marvelouslyme96 @daddymack01 @essie1876 @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @callsignspitfire @roosterforme @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls @thedroneranger @cherrycola27

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #sometimes all you need (a getaway car)#hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake x gg #jake x gorgeous girl #valentines day #valentine's day #happy valentine's day

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 2 months

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He Fell First (She Fell Harder)

A You Play Stupid Games, You Win Stupid Prizes (I'm Not a Game You Want to Lose) Oneshot

Past!Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Description: The Five times Bitsie couldn't keep her eyes (and thoughts) off Jake and the One time Jake couldn't keep his eyes off Bitsie.

Disclaimer: Female!Reader

Warnings: This fic encompasses the entire timeline of the events happening in You Play Stupid Games, You Win Stupid Prizes. As such, there are mentions of cheating, some cursing, sex, sexual themes, as well as a look into Bitsie's mental state during the rough non-consensual sex mentioned in Love Has No Limits, Part Two of the main story.

The content presented in this story is for audiences age 18 and over only. MINORS DNI. I will not be accepting taglist requests from Blank or Ageless Blogs for this story. I do my best to portray adult relationships in this fic. Please do not interact with this story if you feel you are not ready to read about these themes.

Word Count: 7202

A/N: Hi All! So remember when I mentioned I wasn't ready to let Jake and Bitsie go when I ended the main series? Here we are! I'm so happy to share this new installment in their story with you all! It's also my first time writing a 5 plus 1 style fic, so I hope you all love it.

A lot of this story will not make sense if you've not read the main part of the series linked below.

Thanks to @horseshoegirl and @desert-fern for reading over this oneshot as I was trying to figure out how to write a 5 plus 1 style fic!

AO3: Cross-posted here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist

1. Before Bradley Bradshaw

You're not sure why the blond on the other side of the aisle at the Commissary is staring at you. He's beautiful. You know that for a fact because you have eyes, and you're a little weak at the knees at the sight of how he fills out his khaki uniform. He’s probably only staring because you're a mess, with your hair in a messy bun, standing in the commissary wearing a ratty, holey T-shirt and ripped-stained jeans. Moving sucks. It feels like your spine is just stretching out again after hours in the car. Honestly, you’re not sure why you decided to have all your things shipped to Lemoore instead of directly to North Island. Three trips in your car later, and you’ve got everything you need with you, but you now have an avalanche of boxes waiting in your living room to unpack.

Your entire life in boxes is another reason you’d retreated to the commissary. It’s already 6 in the evening, and you want nothing more than to eat something and flop onto the sofa for the night. You’re hoping, at the very least, to pick up a few important groceries, such as milk, bread, eggs, and cheese, to tide you over until you can run to Whole Foods or Wegmans off base. It’s as you’re debating what type of cereal you should buy that the blond first catches your attention. It’s a Wednesday, and there are a surprisingly large number of khaki-clad navy personnel walking up and down the aisles collecting items they need. You’re probably one of the few in casual clothing, but that doesn’t warrant his staring.

It takes far too much effort to turn your attention back to the two cereal boxes in your hands. You can still feel the prickle of his gaze against the back of your neck.

“Y’know, if you’re deciding between Honey Bunches of Oats and Frosted Mini Wheats, I have to tell you that you’re probably thinking too hard.”

You startle, fumbling with the boxes, and stumble back into a broad, firm chest. His laughter is warm and musical as he steadies you with big, warm hands.

“I’m sorry.” You’re flushed and hoping that you’re not as sweaty and disgusting as you feel with this Adonis of a man so close to you.

“I startled you, huh?” His grin is crooked and wicked, making you grin sheepishly.

“Yeah, you kind of did.” You turn and gesture at the cereal boxes. “So, what makes you think you know the best cereal?”

“Well, I've been eating it my whole life, you know?” His eyes seem to twinkle as he responds.

“So have I. I happen to like Honey Bunches of Oats, you know?”

“All that tells me, gorgeous, is that you haven't put something truly delicious in that pretty little mouth before today.”

You squeak a little because you're not sure you've ever been so close to a man before.

“So, I would suggest Cinnamon Toast Crunch. It's sweet and spicy, just like you are.”

You can feel yourself flush, even as he reaches past you, pulls the correct cereal box from the shelf, and places it in your cart.

“See you around, beautiful. I hope you enjoy your time on North Island.”

You’re a flustered mess as you checkout at the counter several moments later. You think about this flirty stranger as you unpack your house and put everything away for the rest of the week and most of the weekend. A part of you isn’t sure how to handle such casual flirting. Could that stranger have been serious? Did he actually want to see you around North Island? Or was that just something he was saying to be kind?

2. Befriending the Daggers

As silly as it seems, you feel like you can taste cinnamon sugar on your tongue when you and your team are introduced to the Dagger Squad in one of the hangars at North Island.

The reason why is simple. The blond who had been haunting your thoughts all weekend is standing at attention in the front row. His cocky smirk makes your knees weak, and you’re sure that his eyes on you make you stutter as you introduce yourself. Throughout that first briefing, you can feel his gaze track across your form as you take notes in your spiky hand. You think you see him smirk when your hand cramps, and you need to shake your fingers out. Still, it catches your attention in a fleeting moment, not keeping it for longer than a few seconds before the briefing grabs you again.

What follows is a day full of briefings, the problem with the laser targeting system setting your mind ticking into overdrive. Looking at the faces of the others on your team, you can see hints of the same curiosity and the same drive to solve this problem. Of course, it would be asking a bit much to be able to view the plane telemetry data and hardware logs and hear the comms recordings so soon after your introduction to the team. Something tells you you’ll have to wait for that.

“So, you’re joining us for drinks, right?” It’s one of the female lieutenants, Trace, you think her name is, who invites you out. “We go to this little place on the beach called The Hard Deck. Penny’s amazing!”

“You should join us, Bitsie!” His voice sounds just as good in the hangar as at the commissary, if a bit less worn and tired. The nickname is new, but coupled with the grin he’s leveling in your direction, you’re willing to accept it. You smile sweetly at the blond as he walks up behind Lieutenant Trace.

“I’m Jake, Jake Seresin. How’d you like the Cinnamon Toast Crunch?”

Before you can respond, though, Trace muscles her way back into the conversation. “Stop making her feel awkward, Bagman.”

You smile gently over her shoulder at Jake as Natasha walks you away, talking a mile a minute. The Hard Deck is a surprisingly homey place. It’s warm and brightly lit, smelling of lemon polish and faintly of yeasty beer. It bothers you a little bit how Natasha doesn’t seem to want to let you go. Jake’s been waiting, sweetly, this whole time. You want to thank him for his cereal recommendations. But she’s introducing you to the others, and you're actually having fun.

Before long, you find yourself in a circle of women, and you’re surprised by how nice it feels. Mara, you've known and worked with for years, but you've never been close. Callie and Natasha are like two sides of the same coin. Both of them are whip-smart and take no shit. They’re the perfect counterparts to you and Mara.

Looking back, you've never really had many female friends. Most of your colleagues are males, males who don't want anything to do with you outside of seeing you every day and inevitably getting shown up by you. So it’s nice standing at one of the bar’s high-top tables while getting to know your new colleagues and hopefully your new friends.

You’re laughing and smiling, vacantly swaying to the song's beat pouring out of the jukebox when the song cuts out. You startle, then hum as you hear the plunking of keys from the piano on the other side of the bar. When you’d walked in, talking to Natasha, you’d thought the piano was just an ornament, something defunct and unplayable. The tune leaves the wooden instrument echoing with age.

Natasha crows with glee at the sound; all the Daggers roused into a festive mood in moments. “C’mon, you two! You’re in for a real treat tonight!”

The raspy voice that starts singing melds beautifully with the old instrument, lustily belting the words of an old song into the air. It seems to be a normal occurrence. As Natasha dances and pulls you into the fray surrounding the piano, you feel relaxed enough to dance along awkwardly in her wake. The other Daggers are arrayed in a half-moon around the back of the piano, facing a man with auburn curls wearing a cheerful printed shirt. You recognize him as one of the Daggers you haven’t been introduced to yet. He’s feeling the jazzy beat of the song as his fingers dance across the yellowed ivory keys.

When he peers over the rims of his RayBans, his eyes meet yours. In that instance, the world stops because his smile takes your breath away. You’ve never felt this seen, this beautiful. His eyes sparkle, the color of the whiskey in the glass atop the glossy wood of the piano. You’ve never heard this song before, but damn, if you don’t want to learn the lyrics via osmosis just to see him smile at you for singing along. You’re not sure when the song ends, or even that it does, notes echoing in the suddenly quiet expanse of your mind. You swallow when he stands up from the bench and downs the watered-down whiskey, tracking a droplet of the amber liquid as it drips down his neck. You have to remind yourself to be cool, to avoid glancing at his mouth as he swaggers up to you.

“Hi,” His voice is like woodsmoke, dark and gorgeous as it drips into your ears. “I’m Bradley Bradshaw, but you can call me Rooster. I’m one of the Daggers, but if I’d met you before now, I’m not sure I would forget.”

“Bradley…. Bradshaw?” You’re not sure when Natasha, Callie, and Mara moved away, but when you look, you’re all alone in the corner of the bar with just Bradley Bradshaw for company.

“It’s a family name.” He drags one of his big hands through glistening curls, his bicep bunching alluringly in the frankly silly shirt he’s wearing. “My dad wanted the alliteration. My mom loved him too much to say no. So here I am.”

“It sounds like you love them a lot.”

His smile falters at your earnest words, a frown dipping his lips down for a few seconds before the smirk rises back into place. “Yeah, I did.”

Your mind churns, because you feel like you’ve pressed unwittingly onto a still un-healed old wound. You feel like you should apologize, like you have to apologize, but he doesn’t let you. The play of emotions on his face is lightning-fast. Before you can think, he’s already leading you to the next conversation topic: you.

“But that’s enough about me. Tell me about you.”

You flush and let your life story, a highly edited version, drip off your tongue. You’ve never felt like this before. You feel seen and inexplicably gorgeous, faced with a six-foot-tall man whose eyes seem to see right through you. He makes you feel giddy.

“What’re you doing tucked away in this corner with Bradshaw, Bitsie?” Jake’s voice makes you smile in a completely different way than when Bradley was making you giggle earlier.

“We were just chatting, Jake.”

“Yeah, Bagman.” It surprises you to see the nearly cruel look on Bradley’s kind-looking face. “We were just chatting. Piss off.”

Jake lifts his hands as he backs away, though you don’t miss how he mouths, “Later, pretty girl” to you over Bradley’s shoulder. You don’t miss the frown creasing on his handsome face, either.

“Does he call you Bitsie often?” Bradley sounds surprisingly concerned as he curls one of his big hands around your waist.

“He just started today.”

Bradley’s face makes you bite your lips. “I’m pretty sure he’s just teasing me, Bradley. It’s okay.”

“No, no, it’s not.” You can hear the rumble of his voice in your chest as he leans closer. “Sweetheart, he’s making fun of you. He doesn’t take you or your job seriously. He took your cute, little introductory speech and turned it into a mockery!”

“He isn’t making fun of me, Bradley.”

“Yeah, he is, sweetheart.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ears. “Bagman makes fun of everyone and everything. He doesn’t know how to give a compliment seriously if he tries.”

“He’s just going to hurt you, gorgeous.”

“No, he’s not.” You scoff.

“Turn around, sweetheart.”

You turn as bidden, expecting to see Jake looking at you with that same sweet look on his face. Instead, what you see is Jake smirking down at a gorgeous willowy blonde with big boobs and sweet, dainty features.

You, in your frumpy little business casual pants set, look terrible in comparison. When his eyes rise to meet yours, the smile falls a little, but it grows into something smarmy and ingenuine as his eyes meet the man standing behind your shoulder.

“See, sweetheart? The man flirts just to flirt. That’s all he means when he calls you Bitsie. He’ll flirt and then go home with someone else. You’re not his type. But luckily, you’re mine.”

His words make you smile, and you devote the brunt of your attention to Bradley Bradshaw again. You can feel the itch of eyes on you all night long. But when you sneak furtive glances over your shoulders at where Jake is standing with that blonde bimbo draped all over him, his attention always seems to be on her. But you can still feel the itch of his gaze in between your shoulders.

3. Dating Bradley Bradshaw

After that first night, you keep a close eye on the Daggers, especially how they interact with each other. Jake Seresin always seems to be on the outskirts of the group. Only Coyote goes out of his way to include Jake. Even when he is a central part of the conversation, Hangman seems to prefer biting commands and witty repartee, which doesn’t endear him to his squadron. You hear them all, though, noting the jokes that are so sly and cerebral that they pass the others by. You notice his concern, the tightly wound worry in every muscle as he tries his best to ensure everyone comes back home safe and sound, even in the midst of training.

Something about his attitude still bothers you, though. Or maybe it’s how he always insists on calling you Bitsie instead of your name. He can’t seem to bring himself to give you any respect, either, and it’s starting to piss you off. If you didn’t know differently, you’d assume Jake Seresin didn’t believe you belonged here, working on this team and completing vital work for the Pentagon and the US Navy. So, you dread walking into the pilot’s ready room on base for coffee. You’ve been dragging all day, and you have it on good authority that the pilot’s ready room has the best coffee on base.

Well, your thermos from home is empty, and you could use the pick-me-up, so you head over there, hoping you can avoid Jake Seresin. All you want is a decent cup of coffee before you’re back to staring at flight diagnostics until your eyes bleed.

The ready room is quiet, barring the ever-present roaring hum of jet engines in flight, and to your satisfaction, there is a pot of coffee waiting for you. You sniff at its contents, a little disappointed because there’s only enough for half a mug once you’ve assured yourself of its relative freshness. You make your mug happily, doctoring it to your satisfaction and taking the time to look around. Bradley and Nat have told you about the days they've spent here between hops while training for the Uranium Mission. The walls are covered in pictures, and you take the time to examine them as you sip your coffee.

When the radio flickers on with an echoey buzz as it connects to the comms of the jets in flight, you startle and whirl around.

“If you’re looking for the Chicken, he’s up in the air.” You have to fight to keep your dismay from showing on your face. You must be at least a little unsuccessful since there is an imperceptible smirk growing on Hangman’s face as he looks at you from one of the sofas. “At least you’ve found the coffee.”

“It’s the best coffee on base, after all.”

You refill your mug and try your best to ignore Hangman. But when you go to take another sip, you’re met with only the dregs at the bottom of your mug. There’s silence between you as you scramble into the cupboards, looking for the fresh coffee. When you measure the beans into the grinder and fire the grinder up, you deliberately avoid looking for the aviator lying supine on the sofa. You find a modicum of your composure as you measure the grinds into a new filter and fill the carafe of the coffee maker with fresh water. You hit the buttons decisively and hum appreciatively as the scent of fresh bitter coffee wafts from the pot. From the radio set, you can hear Phoenix and Bob on the comms, mostly Bob, as he clues his pilot onto unseen perils in the sky. On occasion, you can hear Phoenix’s measured tone and Bradley’s rough rasp, too.

“So, Bitsie, how do you take your coffee?”

You startle, sending crystals of sugar skittering across the countertop as Hangman’s voice gets even closer to you than it was before. You’re always impatiently waiting for the coffee to brew, so you always add the creamer and sugar to the bottom of your mug before pouring in the coffee. Hangman chuckles when he sees the sugar dripping lazily out of the torn open packet in a glittering stream.

“Sugar, huh?” He pushes you away and begins to wipe the sticky substance away but stops once he sees the bottom of your mug. “Fuck, Bitsie, do you pour any coffee into your mug at all?”

“Oh, trust me,” you snap, on the defensive at the sound of his voice so close to you, “I desperately need the caffeine to put up with you, after all.”

Something about the joking look on his face fades away at your tone, though the smile doesn’t.

“I drink my coffee black, you know?” He chuckles, leaning against the counter as he holds your mug hostage on the other side of him. “I like my coffee hot and full-bodied, a little bitter, but oh, so smooth on my tongue.”

He takes two measured steps into your space. With how close he is, you’re inundated with the scent of his cologne and the bitter tang of jet fuel. “Coincidentally, I like my women like that too.”

“And how do they like you?” One of his eyebrows rises at your statement. “Your women, Bagman. How do they like you?”

“Oh, honey.” He grins as he fills the mug up and turns around. “I promise they don’t have any complaints.”

He sips insolently out of your mug, tongue lapping at the traces of coffee left on the spoon he used to stir the steaming beverage before handing the mug filled with hot liquid back to you. Your mind stutters as Jake Seresin stares you down like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen. “Your coffee isn’t half bad either, Bitsie.” You can feel the warmth of his touch where his fingers brush against yours. “A little sweet, but it figures when the drinker is as sweet as you are.”

When you sip from the mug with your face on fire, it tastes even better than when you make it for yourself. You slip out of the room when a crackle of feedback attracts Jake’s attention. It doesn’t occur to you until you’re sitting in your chair and staring at the after-action reports of the Uranium Mission that you’re placing your mouth exactly where his was in an indirect kiss.

For the rest of the afternoon, you find your mind tracking to green eyes and a sweet smile bared genuinely in your direction. Your brain feels like a stuck record, trapped futilely in the crosshairs of his gaze from when he’d been teasing you about your coffee preferences.

Worse than the bonfire lighting up in your stomach, there’s the guilt swarming in your belly after what happened. What happened with Jake in the ready room could classify as cheating, right? You’re not exactly sure because you’re not the most experienced. You also don’t want to tell Bradley because what if you have been unfaithful to him? You can’t confide in Natasha either, because she’s Bradley’s best friend.

Suddenly, your coffee goes from tasting like god’s ichor to tasting like ash on your tongue. Fucking Jake Seresin. Why did he have to go out of his way to make your life miserable?

4. A North Island Night Out

The more time you spent around Bradley Bradshaw, the more it felt like you could fall in love. Bradley’s sweet and kind, and he never once makes you feel bad about your career choice. Sometimes, in those long afternoons stuffed inside a hangar with ceiling fans barely pushing at stagnant air, you wish you could say the same about Jake Seresin. The worst part is how he has reasons to be as cocky and arrogant as he is. He flies his jet like a man possessed, or maybe like a man with nothing to lose. Some of you can’t help but wonder what you would have faced if you'd been going out with Jake instead of Bradley. You're not sure you would have been enough to change his ways.

Bradley, on the other hand? He's like your knight in shining armor. He never minds your rambling or how you babble when you get sucked into a conversation. In fact, you'd argue that Bradley Bradshaw is the first person who has ever taken you seriously. He makes you feel superhuman, like there is never any problem you can't solve. His smile still has butterflies taking flight in thick, cloying swarms in your stomach. He makes you laugh, and god when he kisses you? You feel radiant, like one word will have you taking off faster than an F-18.

A part of you can’t believe him, even now. He hadn't laughed when you'd told him how inexperienced you were, in truth, what you wanted him to give you for your first time.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He'd groaned into your ear, “Just let me make you feel good, on your terms, as fast or slow as you want me to be.”

You know what he's offering. As fast or slow as you want me to be is his way of telling you to take your time. But you're sure you will explode if you have to make out with Bradley Bradshaw again while rubbing a wet patch into the thigh of his jeans, while his fingers massage over your nipples and his tongue tangles languidly with yours.

You’ve had sex with him before, the sweet, gentle missionary kind. In fact, you’d argue that it was the perfect way to lose your virginity. But you can’t help but wonder if there isn’t more to sex with a man you love than a few slow moments in bed. You’re not even sure you orgasmed that night, or at least, it never felt like how you’ve made yourself climax. But ever since then, he’s kept you at arm's length. Sex was supposed to be the last step before all of the walls came down between the two of you. Maybe you can finally get Bradley to give you what you want, then? If only this date weren’t starting at The Hard Deck, though if you think back, most of yours do. It’s not like the Hard Deck isn’t a nice bar - it is. But The Hard Deck isn’t the most romantic of venues.

When you drive up to the Hard Deck in your little car at promptly six in the evening, you’re dressed to the nines, wearing a cute little sundress with a flared skirt and fitted bodice. It pushes your tits up and is nearly completely backless. You’re not wearing much under the dress, just a little lace-edged thong and strappy heels elevating you a few inches. Stepping through the door, it seems like the entire bar falls silent. For several long moments, all you can hear is the tapping of your heels against the floor. People seem to float out of your way as you greet Penny, grabbing your drink from her, a soda in a glass bottle dripping condensation, and walk towards the pool tables in the back of the bar.

Heads turn as you walk past, and you can feel a smug smile curl your lips. On any other night, the arrangement of the Daggers around the pool table would have been normal. You’d be joining them by now, taking your place next to Bradley to hang besottedly on his every word. You’d be the only one not in uniform.

Tonight, there isn’t a uniform in sight. Tonight, you’re dressed to impress. But you’re not dressed to impress the other Daggers, only Bradley. You hope your sexy little dress will be enough to have the romantic moment you’ve been longing for, finally. All your boyfriend needs to do is turn around and see you.

Nat and Bob confer in hushed tones as Bradley racks up against the pool table with the cue in his hand. He’s wearing those jeans that you adore, the pair that fits like a glove and with fabric so worn that it’s soft against your hands. Hangman and Coyote are on the other side of the pool table, identical frowns on their faces as they strategize over the configuration of the balls on the worn felt emblazoned with jets.

But it’s Hangman who sees you first with a clattering of his cue as it impacts the floor. His eyes bug out, mouth parting as his eyes rake over you from head to toe. His reaction causes silence to ripple outwards with him at its epicenter. Dagger after Dagger pauses to stare at you. It’s a gratifying feeling. Nat and Callie wink at you, and Nat carefully prods a pink-cheeked Bob into resuming their conversation. The only person arrayed around the pool tables who doesn’t seem to know you’re there is the man you dressed up for. Jake is nearly mute as you clack forward, sipping on your drink greedily because something about his gaze has you feeling hot and flushed. The only time he backs off is when Bradley seems to realize you’re right there.

“Fuck, baby.” Your boyfriend groans in your ears. His voice makes your skin flare hot, and a desperate ache starts between your legs. “Look at you all pretty and gorgeous for me. Let me finish this last round, and then I’m all yours.”

One round turns to two, and then three, and before long, you’re left all alone in a corner of the bar while the Daggers, including Bradley, party like you don’t exist. All of that effort to make it a romantic night, and you’re sitting here like you don’t exist. If you have to watch another badge bunny drape herself all over your boyfriend, you are going to scream or do something drastic. Maybe making out with Jake will get his attention.

“It’s a shame, you know?” You nearly topple off of your stool at the words emanating from next to you. “You look so pretty, Bitsie, and Bradshaw can’t even open his eyes to see his girl waiting for him.”

Hangman sounds so sure of you, so sure that you’re better than Bradley Bradshaw deserves.

“He just wanted to grab another drink.”

“That was three hours ago, Bits.” When Jake chuckles, you can feel your hackles raise. “Didn’t you have dinner reservations or something like that?”

Before you can respond, because yeah, you did, Bradley’s standing there.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Bagman?” Bradley is slurring his words, listing from side to side as he stares the other man down.

“She’s mine, Bagman. Don’t you forget it!”

“If she’s yours, why are you ignoring her and walking around with badge bunnies draped all over ya?”

You can tell by how red Bradley’s face gets that he is one more word from launching himself at Jake. You’re unsure what prompts you to step in, but you do, sliding your hand up to the sweaty curls at the base of your boyfriend’s neck and whispering into his ear. You breathe your need, your want for him, into his ears. You have to ignore the scent of alcohol and sweat wafting sour from his skin, but you succeed in grabbing his attention.

But a part of you wishes your seductive ploy hadn’t.

You got your wish; your need to have sex with your boyfriend granted. But it’s not anything like you expected it to be. Bradley left bruises on your skin and bruises on your heart. He’d been rough with his touch and his words. But more than that, you can’t help but wonder if this would have happened with Jake. If he’d make you feel better than Bradley ever could. Isn’t sex supposed to feel good?

Faced with Bradley’s fumbling, you’d been anything but wet between your legs. You’d only started to get there when you thought, selfishly, of Jake. There was no foreplay, no making sure you’re alright. No kissing, no touching. There were no hallmarks of any of the care and gentleness Bradley usually treats you with. The whole experience has you feeling worse than you did in the car as he called you a slut for talking to a colleague and friend. Slut. It’s a word he’d used often with you in bed that night, too. A word that makes you feel guilty, dirty, and disgusting all at once.

What does it say about you that you had to think of a colleague and friend to get wet instead of your boyfriend?

Whether you realize it or not, that’s the first crack in the shaky, perhaps already crumbling, foundations of your relationship with Bradley Bradshaw.

5. After Bradley Bradshaw

You have work to do; you know you do. But it’s been under a day since you told Jake Seresin how your relationship with Bradley Bradshaw imploded easier than if it had been bombed. Realizing Nat had known, known what he did and condoned the betrayal, his cheating, is another stab to the back that you weren’t expecting. You can't believe how Bradley could harbor less remorse and guilt over having sex with Britney than you did over some harmless, practically meaningless flirting.

What happened to ‘sisters before misters’ and all sentiments to that effect? You’re thankful, truly thankful, that Jake didn’t know and that Mickey and Mara were unaware as well. Being so far away from North Island has given you a sense of clarity you never thought you were missing.

You’d be lying if you said Jake Seresin doesn’t have something to do with your newfound clarity, too.

One night, a bushel-load of tears and an unburdening of your heart, and he’s already raised himself in your esteems. It’s in how he’d listened to you, which has your thoughts spinning. Back when your relationship with Bradley was still rock solid, you'd thought Bradley was the only man who could make you feel like the most important person in the world. But you didn't realize how often Bradley’s eyes would glaze over when you got excited. You’re not sure you’ve ever been able actually to talk to your ex.

Jake let you cry, cry like you’d lost your reason for living. He’d held you while your suppressed grief had unleashed. He’d heard you spill your heart out to him and release all of your pain into the squalling storm winds. Then there was the rage in his face, in his voice, the rage he’d held tightly coiled in the corded muscles of his arm, in the jut of his proud jaw, when he found out Bradley had broken you, dominated your spirit, for a bet.

You’re not sure why he’s been so nice. He has nothing to gain by being kind to you. He didn’t when he wanted to get you off deck in the middle of the storm last night. Though uncharitably, you’re sure he’d likely wanted you off deck so he could get off deck himself. He didn’t have to make you a cup of coffee or raid his own special stash of granola bars, either. But more than anything, you’d love to know why he let you cry snot and tears all over his uniform when it was well past lights out. You keep thinking back to how it felt to be in his arms, how good it felt.

Unbidden, you pull out the paper Jake had handed you while you were eating lunch in the commissary with Mara and Mickey. It’s nothing special, just a note written in ballpoint pen on run-of-the-mill lined notebook paper. The paper is silky smooth against the pads of your fingers, the edges ragged like he’d ripped the page out of a notebook he had lying around. You can feel the indentations the pen had left on the other side of the page. You can see how the letters slur across the page as he’d written, the ink smudging imperceptibly as he wrote hastily. They’re just lyrics transcribed on the page, and they shouldn’t be thought-provoking.

It’s from a song you’ve heard a thousand times before, played ad nauseam on the radio with a catchy tune getting stuck in your head. More than the song lyrics, it’s the thought behind those lyrics. Honestly, you’re not sure how he got them for you. He called his sister in the middle of the night when he likely had to get special permission to do so just so he could get some stupid lyrics for you.

You can still see the twinkle in his eyes as he blushed crimson. He’d seemed proud, proud he was the reason for your laughter, proud that he’d pulled the wool from your eyes and showed you how ill Bradley had actually treated you. That look on his face made you feel like levitating.

You can’t deny it anymore. Bradley Bradshaw may have made butterflies swarm in your stomach, but Jake Seresin made you feel like lightning arcing through the air. He makes you feel wild and free.

+1. The Day Easton is Born

A part of you feels like you should be angry that it took only four years before you stopped being the sole item of your husband’s attention. But you’d be lying if you didn’t feel the same way that Jake did, especially because the cute little thing that’s caught his attention has caught yours, too.

He’s about four hours old with squishy cheeks, a red face, and a voice that would make his daddy proud. You’re sure that his voice is just like his dad’s, but you can’t say you’ve ever heard Jake’s voice ever hit the octaves this adorable sweetheart hits. It hurts a little bit that you’ve been ordered not to move, too, because everything in you is itching to pick your baby up and hold him in your arms. But Jake’s on baby duty at the moment. If it’s a poopy diaper, you’re more than ready to let him take that burden on.

You tilt the bed up until you’re reclining and tip your head gently to the side until you see the heart rate monitor reassuringly blinking your vital signs at you. When you turn your head to the other side, Jake's standing over the small changing table in your room, leaning down and looking into it. His face looks gentler than you've ever seen it, soft, like a man stripped bare to his basest parts. He has no walls up, no fears, just wonder as he stares down at the little bed. Well, maybe he’s looking a little less awestruck and a little more disgusted because your newborn son does, indeed, have a soiled diaper.

He’s not wearing a shirt. This fact doesn't surprise you because Jake wanders around your house half-naked all the time. At the same time, you’re both in a hospital, and it’s at least 10 degrees colder than it should be. You’re wrapped up in a soft pajama set and wearing a thick cardigan, but you’re still cold. When Jake hefts the small wriggling body of your son into his arms and settles him against his chest, now clean, your heart swells. The baby coos, a little snuffling exhale of breath that squeaks a little as he settles into Jake’s arms. Jake doesn’t seem to realize that you’re awake, either.

“Awww, hey, Buddy.” His voice is a tender rumble, big hands cradling precious cargo with the same surety he flies his jet. “Let’s not wake up Mama, huh? She’s so tired.”

“You took us by surprise, our sweet boy. We weren’t expecting you to show up in the middle of a Longhorns game, for sure. I will say that your arrival was a little more exciting than a game-winning touchdown. I wonder if your Uncle Javy will let Daddy watch the game on his DVR when you’re home? In any case, I do not look forward to replacing my Longhorns rug. You had to pick that rug to make your appearance on, didn’t you? Say, East, what’s the likelihood that your Mama would let me keep it if I wash it off?”

You have to stifle your snickers because the baby chirps and half burps in response. You can vaguely see the dark blue of the baby’s eyes as he blinks in Jake’s firm hold. East’s lips purse and part, and you know it’s only a matter of time before you’ll be in need again. But you’re so in love, and hearing Jake talk to your son might be your newest favorite thing.

“Yeah, I had that feeling. You’ll learn sooner or later that your Mama’s words are law. She’s going to be the disciplinarian between the two of us, for sure. You’re already wrapped around my fingers. I’m not sure I could tell you no for anything.”

He sighs, sounding choked up as he trails a finger down the baby’s soft cheek. “I’ve got so much I want to teach you. How to smile and utilize those perfect Seresin dimples. How to talk your way out of any problem you face. How to make your Mama smile (and maybe cry) every Mother’s Day as we show her how amazing she is.”

He presses a soft kiss to the top of the baby’s head and rocks slightly back and forth on his heels, an action that doesn’t soothe your son even a little. East is squalling already, and you have a feeling he will ratchet up a bit higher in volume if he doesn’t get what he wants.

“Hey, Cowboy.” Your voice is soft as you get Jake’s attention.

“Morning, Bitsie-baby.” His smile is wide as he stares down at you.

“There’s no way it’s morning, Jake.” He shrugs and rocks back and forth a little more as the baby objects a little louder with each sway. “And gimme my son.”

Jake smirked as he transferred the baby, eyes softening as you situated East against your chest, snickering as the baby latched hungrily onto your breast for his midnight snack.

“So he’s your son when you want him, but he’s mine when he’s got a nasty diaper?”

“Sounds about right, Seresin.”

“Well, he’s a Seresin, alright.” Jake snickers when you swat at his abs. “Made right for your tits, and aren’t they a pretty sight.”

“Not in front of the baby, Jacob.”

“Well, I dunno when I’m going to see them again one on one!”

“Try me when East’s two years old. Because I’m going to need that long to recover from having your big-headed child.” Your voice is as dry as the Sahara Desert as you laugh at your husband.

“Fair enough.” He tucks a wild strand of hair behind your ear and settles on the edge of the hospital bed. You snuggle into his side as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Have I told you how beautiful you look today?”

“I’ll take beautiful over the complete mess I probably am.”

“You look gorgeous, Bitsie!”

You snort. “Jake, I haven’t showered in 48 hours, I was in labor for most of it, and I just had a baby. So what about me looks beautiful to you at this moment?”

“Everything.” He presses a gentle kiss to your temple. “You’ve given me the best things in my life. You gave me your heart and a second chance with you. You gave me a family in you and our little Easton. You’ve changed my life.”

“If I didn’t find you gorgeous because of all of our relationship, then I’d definitely argue it is the memory of the lingerie you were wearing under your dress at last year's Navy Gala.”

“I think that lingerie was pretty life-changing for both of us, Cowboy.” You cradle Easton close and gesture for one of the many burp cloths arrayed on the table on Jake’s other side. “I’m about 90% sure that was the night we made East.” You pat the baby’s bottom gently, grimacing when he lets loose a surprisingly loud belch before cooing angelically. “Well, you certainly burp like your dad, don’t you?”

“Hey!” Jake tugs the baby out of your arms, swaying side to side as the baby’s eyes droop closed. He snuggles East close before laying him into the crib. You watch approvingly as he pulls the crib closer, the same worries about your newborn son in his mind as yours. “I’ll have you know, kiddo, that your mama loves my burps.”

“Don’t lie to our son. He’s not even a day old, Seresin, and you’re already lying to him!”

“Am I lying if I’m telling him the truth? His mama does love me.” You wrap your arms around his waist as he settles back into the hospital bed next to you.

“Yeah, she does.” You kiss his torso, nuzzling in close as he holds you close.

“I love you so much, Jake. I fell in love with you a long time ago, and I’m not likely to stop now. Having this,” you gesture to the hospital room at large, “is better than my best dreams. Though, I would prefer it if you could convince your mom and sister to let us have some time with East alone before they descend on us.”

“You got it, beautiful.” He runs his hands gently up and down your back. God, you're not sure you can give him up, not anymore. Right now, you're pretty sure that if Jake gets out of the hospital bed, you'll freeze solid.

“You were always my dream, Bitsie baby. Forever and always.” You barely hear the words, sleep pulling you under riptide-fast. But a part of you knows Jake doesn't mind. It's always been a not-so-secret fantasy of his, having his family at arm's reach.

Honestly, you could get used to it too. Your Jake Seresin pillow is the best of the best, after all.

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