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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 9 months

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The Forgotten Nest (Epilogue) - Rooster

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw / Mitchell!OC (Cora)

Word Count: 1.4k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Past Unplanned Teenage Pregnancy; Crying; Named Mitchell Daughter OC (Cora) and Named Mitchell-Bradshaw Son (Nickie) and other named OCs

Summary: Ten years after the uranium facility mission, Nickie returns to Miramar.

A.N. There are references to a previous unplanned teenage pregnancy (between two eighteen-year-olds) in this fic. There won't be any flashback scenes to the pregnancy, but the references are still there, so if that makes you uncomfortable, please do not read.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Master List

Nickie walked through San Diego International Airport, excited to get home and surprise his family. Walking through the crowd, Nickie beamed when he spotted his ride home waiting for him. Amelia Benjamin waved to him and hurried over to greet Nickie.

“Welcome home,” Amelia joked, pulling Nickie in for a tight hug.

“It’s like you’re actually happy to see me,” Nickie replied, hugging her back. Pulling back after a moment, Nickie grinned and gestured between them. “Hey, I think I’m a full head taller than you now.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Amelia huffed, poking him in the gut. “Now, let’s get going.”

“And that’s all the warm welcome I get?” Nickie called teasingly as Amelia walked away, causing her to shoot him a playfully annoyed look over her shoulder. “You haven’t seen me in two years and that’s all that I get?”

“You’ll get to walk home if you don’t hurry up, Prince,” Amelia mocked Nickie, causing him to sour.

“Do you really have to call me that?”

“It’s your callsign,” Amelia reminded him, grinning because she knew how much he hated it when people from back home called him by his callsign. “You get called that every day. Now, come on. There’s probably traffic.”

Nickie and Amelia caught up on their drive to the Mitchell house about everything that happened since they last saw each other. They still regularly texted and emailed, since Nickie was all over the planet these days, but it had been a while since they actually were able to sit down and talk like old times. But it never took long for them to find their rhythm again.

“And we’re here,” Amelia called victoriously, putting the car into park in front of the Mitchell house.

“In one piece. Shocking,” Nickie replied, reaching for the door handle.

“You’re the one with the ticket on their record,” Amelia shot back, causing Nickie to groan.

“One time! When I was sixteen. It’s been ten years!”

“And we’ll still never let you forget it,” Amelia laughed, sliding out of her seat. “Come on. Before they hear your big mouth. Leave your bag.”

Nickie followed Amelia up the stairs of his childhood home but stuck a bit farther back. Amelia turned for the kitchen, waving to everyone. Maverick and Penny sat at the table, chatting, while Cora walked around the kitchen.

“Hey, I brought a friend. Is that okay?” Amelia asked, causing Cora to pick her head up.

“You know it is,” Cora assured Amelia with a kind smile. “Where are they?”

“Just behind me.”

Amelia stepped to the side and Nickie walked further into his childhood home and into the view of his mom. Cora let out a shrieky gasp before rushing forward to hug her baby boy. Nickie laughed and hugged his mom back, letting her cry and hold onto him for however long she wanted.

“You told me that you wouldn’t be home for three more months!” Cora complained, rocking Nickie back and forth.

“Well, something came up,” Nickie replied, causing Cora to pull away and hold him at arm’s length.

“What is it?”

“I’ll be temporarily stationed in North Island for a few weeks,” Nickie explained with a proud smile.

“Top Gun?” Maverick called from his place behind Cora. He stood back, letting his daughter thoroughly welcome her son home at first, but at the insinuation that Nickie made, he couldn’t help but step forward. “You made it to Top Gun?”

“As of two days ago,” Nickie stated, causing Cora to hold a hand to her mouth.

“Oh, Nickie, we’re so proud of you!”

Nickie accepted another bone crushing hug from his mom and then one from his grandfather, who still somehow barely had any gray hair, before glancing around the kitchen. Releasing his grandfather, Nickie looked in between Cora and Maverick.

“Where’s everyone else?”

“They just went out to grab something. They’ll be back any second,” Cora sniffled, still choked up from the surprise. “Maybe I should call them.”

“I’ll do it,” Maverick offered, knowing that Cora couldn’t keep her voice level right now.

Nickie moved to greet Penny and catch up with her briefly before another set of headlights pulled into the driveway. Nickie stepped back into the hallway, out of sight of the main door, and waited for the rest of his family to come in. Rooster, now retired and working a more traditional nine to five, opened the door and held it open. A little girl with light brown curls and stark green eyes stepped inside, immediately moving to greet Cora.

“Mommy, Daddy took forever,” Carly Bradshaw-Mitchell complained, causing Cora to laugh and bend down to her height.

“He did, did he?” Cora asked, glancing up at her husband of six years.

“Nothing wrong with being thorough,” Rooster replied, not seeing Nickie quite yet. “Why’s everyone standing around?”

“Just a surprise,” Cora explained, standing back up.

Rooster frowned, a bit confused, but his daughter turned her head and spotted someone standing in the hallway. She tilted her head to the side suspiciously before she let out a gasp when she realized who the man standing in the hall was.

“NICKIE!” she shrieked before racing forward.

“Hey, Princess,” Nickie greeted his little sister, scooping her up and into his arms. “I missed you.”

Carly wrapped her arms and legs around her older brother, whimpering a bit. She looked up to Nickie more than perhaps anyone else in her life. And even though he was absent a lot because of his job, they FaceTimed and talked all that they could. And Nickie always made time for her.

“I missed you too,” Carly mumbled into his shoulder, refusing to let go of him. “You’re not allowed to leave again.”

“I’m not?”

“Nope.”

“Well, can’t argue with that,” Nickie chuckled, giving her another squeeze.

Rooster slowly approached his son, not wanting to interrupt the moment between the siblings, but still desperately wanting to greet his son after so many months apart.

“What are you doing here?” Rooster asked softly, still in a bit of shock.

“To see me!” Carly called indignantly, causing everyone to laugh.

“And I got called up,” Nickie replied, turning to his dad. “To a little school down the road.”

“Top Gun? You made Top Gun?” Rooster breathed out, not shocked but still immensely surprised.

“I start in two days,” Nickie explained, nodding along.

“Holy shit.”

“Bradley!” Cora admonished, shooting him a look and pointing at Carly. “Your daughter is right there.”

“I know I just—holy Jesus, Nickie, we’re so proud of you!”

Rooster couldn’t help himself anymore and pulled both of his children into a tight hug. Carly was a bit squished between her dad and her brother, but she didn’t mind it too much. It was better than Nickie not being home at all. Nickie kept an arm on his sister but pulled his dad in with his other arm, having missed him too.

It killed Nickie to hold in that secret about Top Gun for two days from his family. And now that the secret was finally out, he couldn’t stop smiling.

“Oh, come, let’s eat. You must be starving!” Cora called, still wiping tears from her cheeks. “And tell us all about the last few months.”

Nickie sat at the table, surrounding by his family with his sister perched on his lap. After all, if he was Prince—the callsign that he received after they found out about just how many aviators that he had in his family tree and extended network—then his little sister was rightfully Princess. And princesses got whatever they wanted.

Maverick looked between Nickie, Rooster, Cora, and Carly, remembering days in the distant past when he thought that an image like this would never be a possibility. But he was so relieved that those days were long gone and now, the Bradshaw-Mitchell family could just relax.

“He made it to Top Gun. Can you believe it?” Maverick wondered silently, glancing out the window at the setting sun.

He’s named after me, Mav! Of course, he made it! Goose would have said in return.

God help us all. Another Mitchell at Top Gun, Ice would have replied.

Smiling to himself, Maverick turned back to his family and simply enjoyed the moment.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Thank you again to everyone for reading, commenting, and reblogging this story!!

Tags: @xoxabs88xox @eternallyvenus @mygyn @kmc1989 @thegoddessc @midnightmagpiemama @badasspizzalover @praline357 @oatmealisweird @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @abaker74 @avengersfan25 @yogabigooby @daisydaisygoose @sgt-barnesveins @angelbabyange @percysaidnever @artemissunn @indiestrashfire @kidd3ath @luv4kani @lt-spork @brooke-stinson

#top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #tgm #top gun #tgm fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster fanfic #rooster bradshaw #top gun rooster #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley rooster x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #rooster #rooster x oc #rooster top gun #pete mitchell #pete maverick mitchell

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jaidens · 8 months

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pumpkin spice latte w/ extra whip and carmel w/ my baby rooster 😋😋 also completly disregard this plot if you want but seeing rooster after he’s been away yk at top gun for a while so r surprises him >:)))

And want you now, wanna need you forever In the heat of your electric touch, mm-mm

pairing [s] : bradley bradshaw x reader

warning [s] : mentions of : crying, making out, sex |

a/n [s] : my baby doll dal 🫶 requests are open!

It had been six continuous months without seeing your Bradley in real life. The scent of his cologne and musk had disappeared from your bed and his pillow, causing you to go after anything that has reminded you of him. Whenever you were invited to visit him in Top Gun after they were given a three-week break after a joyous win, you decided to immediately take it.

Deciding to not tell Bradley had killed you, as you watched him through the FaceTime call as he slept in a lonely house by himself. You told him your phone was getting repairs to cover up your five hour flight to where he was drafted, it worked surprisingly well. The flight was long, but your discount with it has given you First-Class seats with many helps from flight attendants to try and help your experiences.

When you landed in hot and humid, San Diego you were almost immediately dehydrated. You had called Penny and Maverick to pick you up from the airport, begging to keep everything a secret. Surprisingly, they kept it quiet and Pete told you he had told them he was taking Penny on a date tonight. The nerves were messing with your head as you mess with the hem of your (Bradley’s) Hawaiian shirt. It was a light and soft pink color, and you swore it looked better on him than it did you. Bradley would disagree, saying it was his favorite shirt you had worn.

“Hot as hell here, jeez.” You joke flapping a piece of paper against your face to try and cool yourself down. Even with the extreme cold air blasting on your face, sweat had still dripped from you. You couldn't tell if it was the nerves in your head about seeing Bradley, or the heat. If you had to assume it had probably been both electives. “I know. Bradley pretty much is shirtless half of the time. I’m tired of it.” Amy says next to you, tapping on her phone.

You laugh as you think of Bradley, who is extremely typical to get naked when it's over 95 degrees outside. You decided to call Jessica, Hangman's long-term girlfriend who had also decided to surprise her big hunk of man on the same day as you. She told you how the pilots were meeting at The Hard Deck and how most of the Navy wives were doing the same. You agreed with her and told Penny and Maverick to take you there for him.

Suddenly it all started to hit you: You would see Bradley in under three minutes after months of missing, crying, and taking screenshots of him on the phone. Maverick pulls into the sandy deck of the bar and parks the car. He looks in the mirror and looks at you. “You ready, kid?” He asks and you nod, opening the door and following after the older woman who had already been walking in. The bar wasn't that crowded, only having pilots and other people that had gotten off of work earlier. It was five o'clock when you landed, so now it was six.

The bar is playing some eighties hits loudly, some rowdy people dancing around with drinks in their hands. You touch yourself up in your phone camera, take a big breath in, and start walking into the back corner of the bar where the pilots stayed. That's whenever you saw Bradley, whooping and hollering about winning the 8-ball game with Phoenix and Bob. Jake and Jessica are rubbing up against each other, kissing and hugging on every second, looking like high school couples in the hallways.

You walk up behind Bradley and when he bends over to hit a ball, you slam up behind and put your hands in the front pockets of his 1980s Levi's jeans. “Wanna teach me how to play?” You tease and Bradley jumps up and wraps you in his arms. His hand goes to the back of your neck and he practically jumps while practically screaming your name in pure and utter excitement at your presence.

“You didn't tell me you were coming!” He pulls away for a second to look at your face, before pulling you back in and wrapping harder around your body. The feeling envelopes you tightly and you feel the need to melt in his arms. “It's a surprise, dummy. Are you surprised?” You ask and now he's nodding quickly before he drops you down and kisses you harshly. His lips are running across you as he pulls you into a bench in the other corner.

“Am I surprised? Of course!” He says sassily at you and brings you back into a deep kiss, his hand messing with the hem of your Hawaiian shirt and the other against your neck as he holds you up in the kiss with him. He's warm and touchy throughout the sweet moment and he takes like a Cranberry Vodka. “Love you, so much.”

“Awh, I love you too honey.” Your hand runs through his fluffy hair that's been lightened from hours of sun, and you stare at this tan skin with freckles littering against his cheeks and nose. His fingers mess with the rips on your shorts and he kisses against your cheek. “God, I missed you so much.” Jessica waves at you and giggles as Jake kisses her away from attention. You laugh at his antics before Bradley pulls your chin and kisses you once more, and you stare into his deep green eyes.

“Thank you for visiting, so much.” Bradley speaks softly in your ear. “Always, and forever when I can.”

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futfemfantasies · 1 year

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Zone Breaker \\ mapi león x reader

Request: Can I request a fic where Mapi is ussualy trying to get into the zone on the bus and not really talking to people but then she lets the new signing (reader) fall asleep on her shoulder and the team is really schoked

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is it. Your first day at your dream club, FC Barcelona. You have spent your entire childhood watching short clips of both the male and female teams since you didn’t get the live games due to living in Australia. Since you got transferred from your current, well now former club San Diego Wave, your teammate and best friend Alex is kindly dropping you off at the airport. You hear a knock on the door and you know it’s her. You quickly open the door and let Alex in, along with Charlie, before checking the apartment for anything you might have missed.

“You go away auntie Y/N/N?” Charlie asks.

“Only for a little bit Charlie bear” You bend down to tell the 2 year old.

“Oh” Charlie’s face went from happy to sad in a flash. You pick up Charlie and she holds onto you tightly.

“You ready to go?” Alex asks. You nod and pick up your backpack from the ground. Alex grabs your suitcase since you’re holding Charlie.

Once all the suitcases and backpacks are in the trunk, you clip Charlie in and move to the passenger seat. You turn around and see Charlie about to cry. You reach back and she holds your hand the best she can. You stay in the awkward position for 40 minutes until you reach the airport. You get out and Alex gets Charlie out of her seat. You open the trunk and put your backpack on before getting out your two big suitcases. You close the trunk and see a whimpering Charlie clinging onto Alex’s thigh. You bend down and the little girl runs the short distance to hug you tightly. After promising regular video calls and a visit over the Christmas/new year break. Next, Alex hugs you tightly and you promise to call once you get organised in Barcelona. One last kiss to Charlie’s forehead and you start wheeling your life into San Diego International Airport.

“BYE AUNTIE Y/N/N!” You hear Charlie yell. You turn back and wave to her.

After checking your overweight bags in, you get through security and get a message from your good friend, Lucy Bronze.

hey girl! Keira and I will be at the airport to pick you up. Love ya!

You reply to Lucy before waiting at the gate for your 15 hour flight. After a delayed stopover, you finally made it to your new city of Barcelona. You collect your bags and see your two former teammates. You drive to their house where they said you can crash until you find your own place. A few days later, Lucy and Keira have to go to training so you decided to tag along, with your boots just in case. You all arrive at the training ground and someone else pulls up at the same time you do. You see her step out of the car and you breath is taken away.

“Who’s that?” You ask the couple.

“That’s Maria but she likes being called Mapi” You hum in response and subtly check out the tatted blonde.

You all walk in and Jonatan spots you and pulls you aside. He explains how training days work and if you weren’t too jet lagged, you can join in on the session. Jonatan walks you to the locker room and tells you there’s a kit for you to wear along with some other things. When he leaves, you feel a hand on your shoulder. You look up and see Lucy.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to the girls that’s in there”

You both walk in and to your surprise, only one is in there. You recognise it’s Mapi from the car park.

“Hey Maps, I want to introduce you to someone” Mapi walks over and sports the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen.

“Hi, I’m Y/N” You hold out your hand for Mapi to shake but she pulls you into a hug instead.

“Hola, I’m Mapi but this one has probably told you that” You nod and hug her back.

“I’ll get changed and meet you out there?” Lucy nods and walks out.

You grab your kit and quickly get changed in the bathroom. When you walk out you see Mapi sitting there on her phone.

“I thought you would be warming up already” Mapi jumps at the sound of your voice.

“I didn’t want you to get lost to the field”

You smile and quickly put on your socks before grabbing your shoes and start the short journey to the training fields. As you are both walking, Mapi notices that you’re holding your boots.

“You’re not wearing your boots now?” Mapi questions.

“No I don’t put them on until I’m on grass. I know it’s sounds stupid but it’s a good luck thing I have, for training and games”

Mapi and you make small talk on the way to the field and subtly flirting with each other. Once you arrive to the group, Jonatan introduces you to everyone and then explains what the drills for today are going to be. Once Jonatan finishes, you quickly slip on your boots and start the training session. You found yourself with Mapi for nearly every drill until Alexia claimed she was “hogging the newbie” so you went with Alexia for a few.

Over the next few weeks, you have busy exploring Barcelona with either Lucy and Keira, Mapi, Alexia or small groups from the team. You felt extremely lucky to have such a nice group of teammates and now friends. Throughout those few weeks came many training sessions, proving to Jonatan why you are one of the best on the Matildas, but yet still no game time.

It’s game day and everyone had to arrive at the training grounds by 10am. You, Lucy and Keira pull up and you’re all one of the last players there. You walk over to everyone and say your hello’s before being ushered onto the bus by Jonatan. You notice that Mapi is being very quiet and closed off. You shrug it off and hop onto the bus to find your usual seat up the back. Alexia and Jenni sit in front of you and you tap Alexia on the shoulder.

“Is Mapi okay?” You ask.

“She gets like this before every game. She’s in the zone” Alexia says with a weird hand movement.

“Right okay”

You sit back and put your earphones in and talk to one of your best friends from the Matildas, Sam Kerr. You both talk about everything for a few hours until she has to go to training. You both promise to catch up when the international friendlies are on, that Australia isn’t partaking in for some reason. You put your phone and earphones away and decide to go see Mapi. You walk down the aisle of the bus and sit next to Mapi. You intertwine your hands together and Mapi looks down and smiles when she sees your tattoo on your hand. She wraps her arm around your waist and pulls you into her. You yawn slightly and Mapi looks at you with a frown on her face.

“Are you tired?”

“A little. I was talking with my parents last night and didn’t get to bed until 11” You reply.

“Go to sleep. I’ll wake you when we get there” You nod and Mapi intertwines your other hand with hers.

All around the bus everyone is shocked that Mapi is even letting you sit next to her let alone sleep on her. The different friendship groups talk amongst themselves about how you’ve broken Mapi’s ‘zone’. A few hours later, you feel a kiss on your cheek and someone whispering something in your ear.

“Hey there sleepy head, we’re here”

You open your eyes and notice the bus stopped moving and most of the girls are off already. You do a little stretch and fix your hair before moving back down the bus to grab your bag. When you turn back around, Mapi’s gone. You walk off the bus and follow the girls into the locker room to get prepared for the match. Just before heading out to start, you pull Mapi aside.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

“Everything is perfect hermosa” Mapi replies with a kiss to your cheek.

You start on the bench for this game and Mapi is starting. As the game goes on, you feel Pina nudging you slightly when she catches you staring at Mapi.

“Ask her out, she stares at you too”

You think about what Pina has said until Jonatan calls you up to be put in for your debut at Barcelona. You see Oshoala run towards you and you high five her before running into position. By the 89th minute the scores are levelled. Barcelona need to win this to move to the semi finals of the Copa de Reina cup. Sandra kicks a short goal kick to Mapi, who dribbles it for a little before passing it to Lucy. You run up a little, still keeping onside, and Lucy does a chip pass to you. You run rings around the defenders and kick the ball into the top right corner, making the score 3-2. Your teammates run and jump on you and Mapi gives you a quick hug and a kiss on the forehead.

“I’m so proud of you”

You thank her and run back to your starting position. Thankfully the ref only adds 2 minutes of injury time which is enough for you and your teammates to hold off. When the ref blows the whistle, you shake hands with the other team and try to find Mapi instantly. You see her talking to Alexia and Pina so you decide to jump on her back to surprise her. You kiss her cheek and she looks at you with an added sparkle in her eye. You jump down and she gives you a tight hug. Alexia and Pina move away to give you two some privacy.

You both look in each other’s eyes as your arms wrap around Mapi’s neck and hers around your waist. You keep looking at her lips and she does the same with yours.

“Kiss me” You whisper in Spanish. Mapi wastes no time in connecting her lips to yours. You both pull away quite quickly as there’s lots of fans with cameras.

“Will you go on a date with me?” Mapi asks shyly.

“I thought you’d never ask”

#mapi leon x reader #barcelona femeni x reader woso #womens soccer #woso imagine #woso imagines #woso x reader #barcelona femeni #fcb femeni

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eternalsams · 1 year

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Country Boy ⇴ J.Seresin

pairing: jake seresin x fem!reader

warnings: tiny innuendos at the end. that’s it.

summary: Jake goes back home to his family for a few weeks and has quite a hard time convincing some girl he’s a pure Texas boy.

words count: 1 124

notes: this one shot was DIRECTLY inspired by this gif from Everybody Wants Some, i freakin’ love this film !

Home sweet home ! Jake came back to his home city when Admiral Simpson allowed the whole Dagger Squad some vacation after the mission. Jake really needed that. He needed to see his family. His parents, his sisters, the kids. Everyone. As soon as he was dismissed from the Admiral’s office, he booked a flight back to Austin and sent a text to his mom, telling her he was coming home the next day. He slept during the whole flight, completely exhausted by the training and then the mission. The moment he stepped out of the airport, two little blond heads jumped on him. He stumbled back and chuckled, taking his nephew and his niece in his arms and resting them on his hips. He greeted his mom and sister before taking a seat in the backseat on his mom’s car, between the two kids.

He spent the first day resting at his parents’ place, either laying on the couch watching a Disney movie with the kids or sitting in the kitchen and talking with his parents. The next day, the whole Seresin family went to the park and when the sun eventually started to disappear, Jake decided he wanted to go out. He wanted to see if the bar in which he used to go as a student was as great as he remembered. He pulled his best stetson hat out of his closet and took his jacket before kissing his mom’s cheek and leaving for town. When he parked his truck, he could hear the catchy music and hear some boots hitting the wooden floor. He felt home.

He tipped his hat back on his head and walked in the bar. It was crowded but he’s seen way worse in California. He sat down on a stool at the bar and waited until a waiter came and asked him what he wanted to drink. Jake only ordered whiskey and when he got his glass, he turned on his stool to rest his back against the counter. He looked around him and felt someone sit down next to him. He quickly glanced at the stranger and had to do a double take when he noticed the beautiful woman looking at him. You.

“Hi!” You smiled and he chuckled. Texas girls, now he really felt home. He turned to face you and smiled. “Hi to yourself. How can I help you?” He licked his lips and tasted the alcohol remaining on them. “My friends back there didn’t think I could come and talk to you, so here I am. How’s your night going so far?” You cocked your head to the side and pulled your stool closer to Jake’s. “It’s going really good, but even more now that you’re here with me.” Sweet talker. You thought, but you didn’t mind. You could feel chills running up your back as he grinned at you and you introduced yourself. He repeated your name like a prayer and shook your waiting hand. “I’m Jake, nice to meet you.”

“So, Jake, where are you from tanned like that?” You didn’t try and hide the fact that you were checking him out. He liked the attention you gave him, reminded him of the girls at the Hard Deck back in San Diego. “The tan is from California. But the guy is from our sweet Texas actually.” He gave you his Hangman signature grin and swallowed up what was left in his glass. You slightly chuckled before bursting into laughter. Jake’s smile dropped and he frowned, thinking about what in what he said could have been funny. But you enlightened him right away. “You? From Texas? No way.” You pretended wiping tears under your eye and looked up at him. “Well, I am. I swear I am, you can’t find anyone else more Texan that I am.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re the typical California boy. Tall, blonde, green eyes, arms that could do wonders throwing foot balls. But you cannot be from Texas.” You raised your eyebrows with a sly smirk and that’s when Jake snorted. “First, thank you for the compliments. Second, how can I prove you that I’m from here?” He leaned in to get closer to you and he quickly glanced at your lips when you sank your teeth in your lower lip. “Get on the bull.” You grinned, getting even closer to him. “What?” He slightly backed off. “Get on the bull and hold on for a minute. One single minute and I’ll believe you.” You nodded towards the mechanical bull a little further. Jake lowered his head and sighed in defeat. It’s been so long he hasn’t ride. But he really wanted to impress you and he knew it was the first step to get your number. When you saw him lower his head, you thought you finally cracked him. Poor California boy. But your grin faded when he stood up and walked to the bull, asking you to follow him with a simple finger move. You didn’t hesitate and grabbed your drink before following him through the crowd. You saw him say something into a guy’s ear and and went to jump onto the bull’s back.

He looked like he’s been doing that his entire life. But you still didn’t believe him. Let’s be clear, he needed to hold onto the bull for a whole minute. He placed his hand correctly and hold onto his hat before nodding to the man. And here we go!

2 minutes later

Speechless. You were absolutely speechless. Not only Jake held on for more than a minute but he did it the hottest way you’ve seen anyone do it. The way his hips rolled and hit every bang of the bull. You could see the way his hand gripped the handle and his veiny arm keeping him from falling. And then he decided to grab his hat off his head and throw it to you. You almost missed it by how mesmerized you were by his body but quickly caught it and held onto it for dear life. You watched him walking to you and he reached out to you. You weren’t sure what to do so you only put your hand in his. He looked surprised but only chuckled before kissing your knuckles. “I wanted my hat back but your hand is fine too.” He rubbed the back of your hand.

You looked down at the beige stetson you had in hand and looked back up at him. Then back down at the hat and put it on your head, earning you a grin from the Californian Texan. “Okay, take me home, cowboy.” You kept his hand in yours and made your way out of there.

#hangman #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader #glen powell #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin fanfiction

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lgg5989 · 1 year

Note

One beer universe request the dagger squad gets invited to bob n readers hometown for a holiday and they meet the rest of bobs family and get to know the shy WSO more from stories and pictures from his childhood and teenage years.

OMG dear, I am sorry this took so long! I think I finally got it to a place I like it though. :D

I hope you enjoy and to everyone in the US have a great and safe Thanksgiving!!

Bob was nervous to say the least. The team hadn’t been approved leave over Thanksgiving, and many of their families couldn’t travel to San Diego because of other commitments or a lack of funds to get there. So, being the small town boy he was, Bob invited them all over for a meal.

You had been running around the house like crazy, picking up clothes, organizing the bookshelves, and cooking the meal. He had been tasked with keeping Eddie and Katie occupied so that they couldn’t destroy the clean home you had created.

While the other families couldn’t join their aviator for the holiday, Bob’s dad had booked his ticket in advance, having made the plans to join them for Thanksgiving a few months prior. While you put the finishing touches on the house and meal, he took the kids to the airport to pick up one Arthur Floyd.

Bob stood with Katie on his shoulders and Eddie’s hand in his at the baggage claim. His head swiveled to watch for his father, a man who was tall and thin like himself, the same gold framed glasses he had kept from the seventies, and his usual tan jacket a staple for the aging Floyd.

At the same time he heard someone call out, “Bobby,” Eddie’s hand was pulled from Bob’s and there was a cry of, “Pops!”

Bob watched on with a smile on his face as Eddie raced towards his dad, the older man picked him up in a tight hug.

“Edward-o, my boy, how are you?” he asked, one arm holding Eddie against his side and the other pulling a suitcase along behind him. With Eddie now occupied with another adult, Bob reached up and took Katie down from his shoulders, she was missing her nap and promptly tucked her face into his neck, her little eyes fluttering closed.

“We’ll be in the car soon baby girl,” Bob whispered to her, rubbing her back with the hand not holding her to him.

When his dad made it to him, he pulled Bob into a hug, “Hey pops,” Bob greeted, trying to keep from jostling Katie too much.

“Hey Bobby,” his dad answered, “How’s Y/n?”

“Good, she’s at the house. We invited the team over tonight, since they couldn’t go home,” he explained as he took the handle of his dad’s suitcase, rolling it towards the loading zone where he parked the car.

The ride home was uneventful, the two men talked quietly, catching up while Eddie and Katie slept. When they got to the house, Bob was surprised to find that there were already a few cars parked on one side of his driveway.

When they came inside, they found Phoenix, Payback, Fanboy, Coyote, and Hangman, some seated and some standing in the kitchen, talking with you as you finished cooking a few dishes. As they entered the living room, stripping off their jackets, the group turned to see the newcomers.

“Hey guys, this is my dad, Arthur or Arty for short,” Bob introduced, “Dad, this is Coyote, Phoenix, Payback, Fanboy, and Hangman.”

“Good to meet you all,” Arty said, rubbing his hands together, “I’m going to bet that those aren’t your Christian names.”

Everyone let out a laugh, “No definitely not,” Phoenix said, extending her hand to the older man, she smiled, “I’m Natasha.”

“Ah you’re Bobby’s pilot then!” he said, “So good to finally meet you dear.”

“Thank you sir,” she said, a wide smile coming over her face.

“Oh don’t bother with the sirs, I believe all of you outrank me, if anything I should be calling you ma’am,” Arty said before making his way into the kitchen and pulling you into a tight hug.

“Hi Arty, I’m so glad that you could make it,” You greeted him, sinking into the warm embrace of your father-in-law.

“You look good dear. I’m just sorry your momma still hasn’t come around,” he said quietly into your ear.

You gave him a sad smile, “That’s alright, just as long as you promise to come for Christmas.”

“Like you could keep me from my grandbabies!” he said playfully as Eddie appeared at his side.

You let out a laugh, “I would never even dream of it!”

From your spot in the kitchen, you listened as the pilots talked to Arty. The man was a Navy veteran, which they had all picked up on. He had been drafted into Vietnam at only twenty-one. They might all outrank him, but they listened aptly to his stories. Eddie was content to sit on his pop’s lap, a toy jet in his hand.

As Arty started to delve into more personal stories, you felt Bob come up behind you, “Need any help honey?”

“No, I’m all good,” you said, smiling as Arty began to regale the group with stories of Bob’s childhood. He told them about the time Bob had defended a little girl from bullies when he was eight, how he had won the science fair when he was ten, and how at fifteen, he had been made kicker of the varsity football team. You knew without a doubt that Bob was his father’s pride and joy. With the pair of them losing his mother so early in his life, all they had was each other.

“I swear, I had never been more proud than to see him out on that field,” Arty said, “Until he joined the Navy of course.”

At that moment, the timer you had set on your phone went off. You turned the blaring sound off before pulling open the oven and checking the temperature of the turkey. It was just at 165°F, perfectly cooked. Slipping on your oven mitts, you pulled it out of the hot oven and set it on top of the stove.

Surveying your kitchen, you ensured that every dish was accounted for, before turning back to the living room, which was now alive with more chatter.

“Alright y’all, dinner’s ready!” you called, moving aside as the group of aviators got quiet and began to file into the small kitchen. Everyone stopped, turning to look at you.

“What?” you asked, confused as to why they were all looking at you, “Do I have something on my face?”

Phoenix shook her head, “No, you just cooked us this delicious meal, you deserve to go through the line first.”

You stood still, watching as she offered the plate she held in her hand out to you, “Oh, that’s not necessary. You all are guests here, I can wait. Besides I need to get the kids’ plates and-”

Suddenly, there were a pair of hands wrapping around your waist, “I’ll get it honey,” Bob said, his voice low in your ear, “Get a plate, enjoy our company.” With that, he placed a kiss just below your ear.

You shuffled forwards, grabbing a plate and filling it, watching as the rest of the pilots, followed up by Bob and Arty did the same. The dining table you had was not large enough for everyone, so you all found seats through the house, some positioned themselves at the kitchen table, coffee table, while others were just eating with the plate on their lap.

Eddie climbed up into the empty seat next to you, Arty setting a plate down in front of him, “Be good for your momma buddy, I’m going to go get some food too,” he said before giving you a pat on the shoulder and making his way back to the kitchen.

Once dinner had been eaten, and the pilots had insisted on cleaning up, you were changing Katie into some clean clothes when you heard Arty say, “Oh, I love this one!”

Glancing over, you noticed that he was pulling a thick, leather bound book off the shelf, opening it to the first page. You recognized it immediately, and smiled widely at the book.

Arty cracked it open while he took a seat on the couch. The rest of the aviators slowly joined him once their duty in the kitchen was done. He began telling more stories of Bob, showing them all of his baby pictures, the sports he played, the last photo they had as a family, the first prom Bob took you to, the photo of him walking across the stage at his high school graduation, one of Eddie’s first ultrasound print out, and one from the day you eloped.

Everyone’s faces changed with each story, but it made your heart warm that Bob’s coworkers were getting a better understanding of him little by little.You knew that your husband wasn’t the loudest person anywhere you went, and he often kept his personal life to himself.

By the time you were ready to serve dessert, Bob’s ears were pink from the attention being on him, deciding it was time to step in before Arty talked about Bob all night, you stepped back into the living room.

“Dessert’s in the kitchen when y’all want it!” you said, a smile on your face, “Does anyone want me to turn on the game?”

“Could you turn on the Cowboys game?” Jake asked, causing the rest of the group to let out a collective groan, Rooster’s louder than the rest.

You rolled your eyes at their antics before picking up the TV remote and putting the game on. This spawned more stories from Arty about Bob’s high school position and how he had been, sadly, cut from the Navy team during his time at the Academy.

With that comment, Javy turned to Bob, “I didn’t know you played for the Navy football team.”

Bob nodded, sipping his beer, “Yeah, just for a bit, I had to commit to my family,” he said, a smile on his face, “It’s hard to do that when you’re on the road all the time.”

It was at that moment that the Cowboys scored a touchdown, and Jake, having been half listening to the conversation, launched himself off the couch and cheered loudly. Payback, who had nodded off in the corner of the sectional, jerked awake at the other man’s yelling and shot him a glare, you and Phoenix shared a look before both bursting out into laughter at the interaction.

As the squadron started to trickle out of your house, you sent them all off with leftover plates in hand. Once everyone left for the night, save Arty, who was staying in the guest room, you made your way into the bedroom.

You were rubbing in your face lotion, leaning close to see yourself in the mirror. Bob let out a laugh when he stuck his head into the bathroom and you jumped when he appeared in the mirror.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

You gave him a wide smile, “Hello love.”

Bob came up behind you, his hands wrapping around your waist to hold you to him, “You don’t think the guys will see me differently do you?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, confused as to what they would see different about your Bobby.

He snuggled his face into the crook of your neck before speaking quietly, “Just about the pictures Dad showed them.”

“No honey, I think if anything, they understand why you are the quiet wallflower I love,” you reassured him, pressing a kiss to the side of his head.

You felt more than saw him smile into your neck, “Are you ready for bed?” he asked.

“I think so, my feet are killing me,” you answered in an overexaggerated voice, slouching your shoulders to really get the point across.

Bob laughed, his face still pressed tightly against you, “You are so dramatic.”

You hummed, “But that’s why you love me.”

As you both climbed into bed, settling beneath the covers, you laid your head on Bob’s chest, listening to his deep breathing. Just as sleep started to take you, you heard him whisper, “Thank you, for everything you do.”

The last thing you remembered as the world faded into peaceful dreams was mumbling out a quiet, “I love you.”

#bob x reader #bob floyd x reader #bob top gun #top gun bob #bob floyd #bob floyd x y/n #robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd x reader #top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick

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unhappycylinder · 8 months

Text

Gonna Be Trouble (Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Fem!Reader) Pt. 8

wc: 3.3k

Warnings: Jake being an idiot, cursing, Gabby and Rooster being adorable,

Series Masterlist

“Gabby I just don’t know what to do,” you sobbed into the phone, “I know he said that stuff to push me away, I know it's not how he really feels, but what kind of person can say that to someone they love? He probably doesn’t even love me…”

“Y/n don’t say that,” Gabby’s comforting voice brought more tears to your eyes, “you know he loves you, we all do, but you gotta remember its Hangman we’re talking about. He doesn’t know how to love someone this much. He’s from Texas, he doesn’t know how to have feelings.”

You laughed, wiping away your tears that had pooled in the crease of your nose, “very fair.”

“I’m so sorry he did this…” Gabby stuttered, “I have no idea why. We talked to him just the same day he called you, like literally hours before, and he told Rooster that he believed in you guys…”

That only made you sob harder, “then which one is it?” You coughed, the emotions overloading you to the point you thought you might throw up.

“Sweetheart oh my god,” Gabby’s heart broke for you, and her blood ran cold thinking of Hangman and how he could hurt you like this, “I don’t think you should be alone right now”

“There’s nothing I can do about that Gabby. It’s a long weekend, I have no friends here who know anything about my personal life, I have no money to go anywhere, I’m stuck,” you ranted to her.

“Alright then I’m flying you down”

“What?” You squeaked, “Gabby you’re not doing that”

“Yeah I am,” she pulled out a computer and started typing, you just stared at her dumbfounded over the phone, “send me your TSA number honey, we’re getting you out of there”

“Gabby,” you ran your hands over your forehead, “a flight to San Diego would be like $400 this last minute, it's ridiculous. I’ll be fine, I’m not-”

“Y/n just hush. You’re my best friend, you need support, and I need to see you. Plus, my husband’s in the military, I get flight discounts, and I have access to his credit card and he’s gonna be away at sea so who’s gonna know”

“You’ve got this deployment thing down don’t you,” you laughed at her

“We’ve only been married a few months but I’ve been with this idiot for years, and not once has he questioned why thousands of dollars leave his bank account every time he goes away. Honestly I don’t think he’s smart enough to remember how much money he had before he left…” She rambled while she booked your flight, “Can you be at the airport at 6 tomorrow? Direct flight to San Diego at 8:30…Roo and I can pick you up?”

“Gabby, I mean this sincerely, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you smiled at her,

“Suffer…probably,” she giggled, making you laugh too.

“Thank you Gabby, you’re the best”

“I know I am,” she flipped her hair, “anyway I gotta go soak up some Rooster time before he leaves for forever…”

You giggled, “I don’t want to know details…I’ll see you tomorrow, love you!”

“Love you more, go get some sleep, and don’t forget about your flight please!”

You blew her a kiss before hanging up. Luckily, the emotions from Jake’s phone call had drained you for the day, and you fell asleep pretty easily after the talk with Gabby. After all, you had a flight to catch in the morning.

—

“You better give me a big hug right now,” Gabby said as she walked towards you, arms wide open, as you exited the airport and the warm California air hit your face. Your lip quivered at the sight of your best friend, your tired arm threatening to drop your duffel bag as you embraced her and let your tears flow.

“You’re okay sweetie, you’re here now,” Gabby comforted you as she ran her fingers through your hair

“You have no idea how much this means to me,” you sobbed out, “I’m so happy to be here”

“Awww, I know,” she pulled away and grabbed your face, the widest smile across hers.

“Ladies, this is cute and all,” Rooster yelled from the car, “but this is 5 minute parking and this pilot isn’t looking to get banned from the airport anytime soon…”

“Oh calm down pendejo,” Gabby grabbed your bag from you and threw it into the trunk of the car.

Sliding into the back seat of the car, you caught Rooster’s apologetic gaze through the rear view mirror, the sorrow in his eyes nearly making you break down again.

“Still haven’t heard anything from Hangman?” He asked, the bronco slowly moving out of the line of cars waiting to pick up passengers.

“Ay!” Gabby exclaimed, slapping the back of his head.

“What?” Rooster threw a hand up in defense, hunching over the steering wheel to avoid his wife’s swing.

“Why the fuck would you ask that?” Gabby hissed before turning around to face you, “I’m sorry honey, Mexico did a number on his brain apparently,” she joked as she muttered curses in Spanish to herself. Gabby and Rooster had just returned from a short but sweet honeymoon in Mexico, of which you heard many….maybe too many…intimate tales.

“It’s okay,” you sighed, “um I haven’t heard from him.”

Gabby and Rooster shared a knowing glance.

“Not to keep making you guys play middleman but…have you heard anything?”

“Um…” they both said in unison while staring at each other.

“You can tell me, guys, I’m pretty sure I’d rather know than not.”

Rooster sighed before turning to his wife, who then turned back around to face you.

“I wasn’t gonna tell you this cause I didn’t want you to get anxious,”

Too late, you thought to yourself.

“Jake knows you’re here…”

“Oh?” You felt a punch in your gut, the feeling of anxiety creeping into your throat as Gabby watched you process, “does he-”

“It doesn’t matter what he wants,” Gabby placed her hand on your knee, “you’re here to relax, not appease him. We’ll answer any questions you have of course, but I want you to spend this weekend how you want to, no matter what, okay?”

You sighed, questions and concerns filling your mind, “Okay,” you shook your head. Relaxing was probably the last thing you could do right now.

—

“I think I need to see him,” you muttered as Gabby helped you put your toiletries away in the guest bathroom.

Gabby sighed, “okay, whatever you want, but do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“I don’t know, is it? Did he say anything about wanting to see me?” You reclined against the bathroom counter, arms folding across your chest.

“Of course he did, Y/n, he feels like shit for breaking up with you, I know he regrets it. Rooster said his flying’s been off the past couple days, says he’s been extra dangerous, whatever that means.”

“Shit,” you panicked at the thought of him burning in, “yeah I need to talk to him”

“I’ll call him then, let him know to come by?” Gabby asked, waiting for you to decide where you wanted to meet him.

“I think I’ll just walk to his place,” you said mindlessly.

“Babe that's like a mile from here, why would you do that?”

“Give myself time to think of what to say? Time to abort the mission?” You sighed, leaving the bathroom to begin your pilgrimage to Jake’s.

“Alright, well, let me know if you need us to pick you up. I love you!”

“Love you too, wish me luck,” you yelled from the stairwell before departing.

—

Hovering your fist over Jake’s door, reality finally hit and anxiety flooded your body as you contemplated what the hell you were doing at Jake’s door three days before he deployed.

“Y/n what the fuck?” You whispered, fist returning to your side as you promptly marched down his driveway, praying he hadn’t noticed you there.

He had.

“Y/n?” A groggy voice muttered from behind you, the Texan drawl of the man you loved barely identifiable over your own whispers. Stopping dead in your tracks, the anxiety bubbled up once again and this time threatened tears from your eyes. With a deep breath you turned around to see him.

Jake stood shirtless in his doorway, grey sweatpants clinging to his hips, his hair spiked and disheveled. The home behind him was dark, no blinds open to let in the midday sun of San Diego, and likely no ventilation for the better part of the last couple days. His eyes blinked rapidly as he adjusted to the light, the hand not clasping the doorknob shielding his green orbs as he trailed up your figure.

“Hey,” you croaked, tears beginning to slowly track your cheekbones. You didn’t move at all, you stood static on his driveway, arms crossed in front of you in a shallow attempt to comfort yourself.

“Come in baby,” he said groggily, breaking your heart to hear him call you such a loving nickname in such a tender way. The tears grew more frequent as you shook your head and walked towards him, arms still crossed until you reached the doorway and stood mere inches from him.

He was impossible to read, but the one emotion you could identify was sympathy. Even Hangman, the hard-to-crack fighter pilot with confirmed kills, couldn’t stand to watch the woman who owned his heart stand in front of him shaking with sadness that he caused. You reached up to wipe away your tears, closing your eyes briefly, and just then you felt his strong arms around you. Jake pulled you close, nuzzling his face into your neck and stroking your back with his strong hands.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n, I’m so sorry baby,” he whispered into your hair. You cried harder, eliciting a grunt and sigh from him as the consequences of his actions finally caught up with his emotions.

“The things I said to you were-” he lifted up his head and stared upwards, searching for words, you remained nestled into his chest as you cried, “they were appalling. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything after Rooster told me you were here, I should have tried to see you. I just didn’t know what you’d want…”

“Jake-” you cut him off, peeling yourself off his bare chest to gaze into his eyes which were now also brimming with tears, “we need to talk about this stuff”

He nodded. You needed answers, he needed reassurance, talking was the only thing you could do. He let go of you and welcomed you into the house. Just as you had expected, he hadn’t opened a single window in the whole home, the air stagnant and dark, and the smell of dirty dishes beginning to creep through the building. You walked over to his couch, sitting down on the warm fabric that had obviously been the host of his body for the past couple days. He sat next to you, knees barely grazing yours as you sat in silence for a brief moment.

“Jake, do you remember what you told me on the beach at the beginning of the summer?”

“That I loved you?”

The past tense stung.“No, the part about you burning in, about what Phoenix was saying about you being safer…”

“Oh,” he glanced downwards, “yeah I do”

“Jake, you told me that you were flying safe because you were scared of losing me, that you were scared you’d miss out on our life, on our memories. You told me you wanted to see where we end up, and that our love motivated you to be a better pilot,” you fiddled with his fingers as you spoke, “and Rooster told me you haven’t been flying safe lately,” your throat choking up the more you thought of him being careless, “and I just don’t get why,” you finally sobbed.

The sound of your voice breaking finally brought Jake’s attention to you, concern and pity filling his eyes as he watched you struggle to explain yourself.

“I don’t get why you push me away. I don’t get why you tell me one thing and then do another. I don’t get why you put yourself in danger for no reason, why you put your career and your life on the line….to what? To prove some point?” Tears pooled on your cheeks while your eyes searched the room for some semblance of comfort. “The things you said when you broke up with me hurt, they hurt me to my core, but the thought of you throwing your life away out of spite hurts even more.”

Jake was speechless, his green eyes glassy under scrunched eyebrows as he finally felt the pain you had been enduring because of him.

“The life I want is the life I share with you. And I went into this relationship knowing distance and deployment and all that shit would be a factor. You did too. I’m prepared to go through anything for you…because I want those memories, Jake. I want to hold you and kiss you and dream of you while you’re gone. I want to move into your stupidly undecorated house on base when I graduate and be here for you every night when you come home,” you gestured to his bare walls, eliciting a small chuckle and nod from the hard-to-crack military man who had tears dropping from his eyes.

“God Jake the love I feel for you is endless. I gave you my heart, I gave you myself, don’t give those things back to me.” You stopped talking, the emotions overwhelming you to the point where you removed your hand from his and tucked your knees up in front of you, bundling yourself into a ball while Jake processed everything you said.

“I think…” he began, his eyes searching every part of the room except where you were, “I think we should take some time to think about all this,” he slowed down as he said the last few words.

Your tears dried up, shock overtaking the sadness. You didn’t expect this, you didn’t expect him to mean the things he said, to mean that he didn’t want to be with you.

“So you meant it?” You questioned, eyes finally meeting his.

“What?” He asked quietly

“You meant the things you said. The things about us? About me?”

“No, Y/n. I’m sorry for the things I said to you. They were hurtful and wrong and downright disrespectful. You’re a sweetheart and I’m sorry. I just mean I don’t think it's smart for us to jump into things right now, not with my deployment and your school.”

“What are you saying,” you cut him off.

“I think maybe we should just wait to date or something, til I’m back…”

“Jake,” your voice cracked, “I can’t do that,” you sobbed.

“You don’t think it's a good idea?” He asked earnestly.

“I’m gonna be waiting for you either way. I’d rather be waiting as your girlfriend than just some girl who's heartbroken and doesn’t even know if the man she loves loves her back.”

“You’re not some girl, Y/n, you’re my girl,” he rubbed your arm.

Shrugging him off as the confusion overwhelmed you, “no I’m not Jake. You broke up with me, you told me we should wait. Those don’t exactly go hand in hand with being ‘your girl,” you stood up to leave, he stared at you bewildered, “I’m leaving. You need to make up your mind, I’m tired of being confused about how you feel about me.”

You walked through the dark house to his door, opening it and letting the harsh California light hit the living room where he still sat on the couch, eyes never leaving your frame.

“Good luck on your deployment, Jake,” and with that you took one last look at him and left the house, closing the door behind him. As you walked away, you held out for the possibility that he would open the door and come running out with an apology. But he didn’t. You walked the whole way back to Gabby’s without a word…without an ounce of clarity…just confusion like you had never felt before.

—

The remainder of the weekend went by without a word from Jake. Occasional glances from Rooster after he got a text or got off the phone let you know that, per usual, you were the only person out of the loop when it came to your relationship issues. Nevertheless, going through this breakup without Gabby would have been impossible, and her support meant the world to you.

Monday came around and it was time for the pilots to leave. The debate of whether or not to go had lived in the back of your mind for the better part of the weekend, eating away at you when you tried to close your eyes. Ultimately, after lots and lots of thinking, you had decided not to go for multiple reasons. For one, it gave Gabby and Rooster time alone during a special moment…and it also gave you the upper hand over Hangman. Despite what he told you, you knew Jake, and you knew he’d expect you to be there to wave him off.

“You sure you don’t want to come, honey?” Rooster asked you as he walked by the couch where you reclined in their living room, dressed in his flight suit.

“Yeah I’m sure,” you sighed, sitting up to face him. “I know he’s gonna expect me to be there. And I want to be there for him…but I can’t let myself keep getting hurt. I can’t let him know that he can keep hurting me and I’ll come crawling back…”

“You know, as much as I love Jake, and as long as I’ve known him,” Rooster began, “I think you’re doing the right thing. You’re showing him you’re prioritizing yourself, which is important. He’s an asshole, he needs to be put in his place.”

“He is an asshole isn’t he,” you and Rooster laughed together.

“Alright honey,” Rooster ruffled your hair, the nickname he always called you by making you smile, “I’m outta here. I’ll keep my lips sealed to Jake for a bit, but you know how to reach me if you want me to tell him anything, okay?”

He grabbed his bags, “or if you just want to chat, I’d like that too.”

“Bradley!” Gabby’s piercing voice ran out from upstairs, “we’re gonna be late if you don’t hurry the fuck up!”

“Down here, baby!” He yelled back.

Gabby came running downstairs, “You’re ready before me?” She asked out of breath.

“Yeah?” Rooster said sassily, “why are you so shocked by that?”

You giggled at the couple, making Gabby sneer at you.

“Don’t you dare laugh with him,” she pointed at you, making you and Rooster laugh harder. She sighed before walking down and embracing her husband.

“You can’t wear this flight suit in the home, Brashdaw, otherwise you’ll be late to everything…” she flirted before kissing him, his hands gripping her hips.

“I love you, Gabby,” he kissed her again.

“Y'all are gonna make me throw up, go get on a boat or something Roo,” you pretended to gag as you got up from the couch.

“Bye Y/n,” Rooster said, letting go of Gabby briefly to give you a hug and kiss on the forehead, “don’t be a stranger”

“Back at ya.” you gave him a smile, “don’t like die or anything….Gabby would kill you”

Your friend laughed, giving you a brief nudge before opening the front door for Rooster. She shot you a quick wink before closing the door behind her, the sound of the bronco starting not long after.

And with that, you sat back down on the couch, left with your own thoughts and the slightest feeling of regret and worry beginning…what if you never got to say goodbye?

Taglist: @dempy @shanimallina87 @luckyladycreator2 @mightiestheroes @taytaylala12 @djs8891 @clancycucumber230

#jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #top gun fic #top gun hangman #top gun #top gun maverick #hangman x reader

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sunlightmurdock · 2 years

Text

Sub Rosa | Part Four: Heading Out | Bradley Bradshaw x Kazansky!Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: none

…

You didn’t call Bradley back. You ignored his calls and texts, you pretended not to see his car parked down the block as he called you. You didn’t let him drive you up to college, you flew back alone like your parents had originally planned.

It was just to hard to face him. You couldn’t stop thinking that it could be the last time.

So, if you didn’t say goodbye, then it wasn’t really happening. But it was. His deployment was on Monday and you left San Diego on Sunday morning. Before you left, you did visit his place one last time whilst you knew he was at work. You left him a parting gift and went to the airport.

At first, Bradley had thought he had gotten his neighbours’ mail again — he hadn’t received a handwritten letter, maybe ever. But, when he saw your name signed on the back of the envelope, he sat on his couch and opened it. He was certain that this was you breaking up with him.

It wasn’t. As he slid open the envelope and pulled out the letter, a piece of card fell out and landed between his boots. His eyebrows furrowed as he leaned down and picked it up from the ground, turning it over.

His lips parted slightly.

He was confused, but not in anyway complaining. The picture in his hands was a Polaroid of you, wearing nothing but his dog tags, taken in the mirror of your room at your college apartment.

He had taken his tags off once to shower and had left them in the room. You had taken that picture two months ago. You had been holding onto it to give him as a birthday present, but you figured he could do with it sooner rather than later.

Rooster considered not taking it. He considered leaving it at home. But, with you still not answering his calls or texts, he tucked it inside of your unread letter and packed it into his bag. At least that way he’d have a little bit of you with him. He wrote you a letter too.

You received the letter three days after he had left, when you were coming back from class. You had sat on your bed, cuddling into the stuffed panda Bradley had won for you at a campus fair, reading the letter over and over for hours.

The letter had been three pages long, and honestly, you were surprised about how good Bradley’s handwriting was. The letter explained many things. That he was sorry. That he loved you. That he was going to make it up to you when he got home.

When. Pilots were always sure of themselves, but Rooster’s confidence did reassure you a little. He was never wrong, and he wouldn’t be this time. He signed off by hoping that you weren’t missing him as much as he was missing you.

Your father spent the next two weeks incredibly confused after that. You rarely called him in the previous three years you had been away at college, usually just checking in via text to let him know you were alive. This time, you had taken an active interest in his work.

The first phone call had been exhausting; trying to get him to bring up the deployment he had sent Rooster on without bringing up the fact you knew about a top secret naval operation. He had mentioned that Maverick was on a deployment in that area — the same one. After that, it was easy to ask questions. About how the mission was going, how the guys were doing. If anything had happened.

Rooster called you for the first time sixteen days into his deployment. You missed his call because of an exam. You spent the rest of that afternoon crying your eyes out to the point that your roommate came in and just sat with you, stroking your hair. It felt a little pathetic now that you hadn’t told him you loved him.

He called again four days after that. He couldn’t tell you where he was, but he was safe.

“I miss you so much.” You admitted, tucking your knees up to your chest as you relished in the sound of him breathing gently on the other side of the phone. You could hear him smiling as he talked.

“I miss you too, baby.” He said. “Are you being good without me there?” He teased, making you laugh just a little.

He listened to you sniffle quietly through the laugh, closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall.

“I’m trying.” You answered truthfully.

“How’d those exams go?”

Your heart hurt. He remembered the dates your exams were. You wiped the tears from your eyes and swallowed hard, “I think I did okay. I get the grades next week. I’m only a couple weeks away from being done.”

“You’re so smart.” He breathed, and you knew he meant it. “I’m proud of you, honey. You’re working so hard.”

You were quiet for a moment, wiping the tears from your eyes again. They were just coming faster than you could wipe them away.

“I’m sorry,” You murmured, your voice cracking slightly. “For ghosting you. I - I just… I didn’t want you to go, and it’s so stupid but I-“

“Hey, don’t cry.” He spoke gently, “I’m gonna be home before you know it. You can make it up to me then, how about that?”

You laughed softly, wiping the tears from your cheeks again, “Okay. It’s a date.”

“God, I miss you.” Bradley hummed, shaking his head slightly. “Alright, I gotta go. I’ll see you soon, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Bradley’s eyes widened slightly as his time ran out and the line went dead. His lips quirked just slightly. You had said it. You loved him. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his cargos and left the line for the phone, smiling to himself as he walked back to his bunk.

“Is your girl in high school or something, Bradshaw?”

“Excuse me?” He turned and glared at Yale, disgusted by what he had just asked him. Yale shrugged his shoulders, reclined back on his bed with his arms behind his head,

“We heard you in the phone line. You’ve got this secret girl that you never talk about, no one knows her name, no one has seen you together. But she’s got exams? — So, she’s in high school. Right?”

Bradley rolled his eyes, “You’re fucking disgusting. No. She’s not. — She’s in college.”

“So why has no one ever met her?” Coyote chimed in from his bunk, three beds up.

“I don’t know, maybe I don’t want her hanging around with you depraved idiots.” Rooster glanced up, making short eye contact with Hangman, who was smiling in amusement from the top bunk. Hangman chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he leaned back against his pillows.

Rooster slid into his own bunk below Hangman’s and pulled out the book Maverick had loaned him to help him pass time. Only fifty more days to go. He kept your picture inside of his pillowcase wrapped in a handkerchief to keep it away from prying eyes — he only allowed himself to look at it in the bathroom when he was certain everyone else was sleeping.

For the first thirty days, things were easy enough for him. His longest deployment to date was eight months, and that had been a piece of cake. But he hadn’t had anyone waiting for him at home then. It was right after his mom had died and honestly, he was glad to be away.

Plus, he had had a small thing with one of the female pilots back then. That made it easier too. Now, he was sleeping below Jake Seresin, listening to him mumble in his sleep and toss and turn every night.

He couldn’t help but think about being back home with you. How perfectly you fit against him and how well you slept in his arms — how sweet it was when you murmured in your sleep, lips brushing his chest.

Bradley had been counting down the days.

So had you. Your roommate was getting sick of hearing about him; she knew so much about him now that she felt like she was the one dating him.

Hangman was equally sick of watching Rooster mope around, unable to tell anyone except him how much he was missing you. He pretended not to see Rooster sneak off to the bathroom at 1am each night. Though, he was confused why Rooster always brought his dog tags.

It wasn’t until Day sixty that he let himself read your letter. He was holding out for a day that he really needed it. It had been over a month since he had been able to call you last because of the signal blockers on the carrier. So, he waited until training was done for the day and let himself into Admiral Simpson’s office to read your letter.

The first thing he noticed when he opened it was that it was spritzed with your perfume. He swallowed slightly, shifting in his seat as he popped a semi at just your scent. That hadn’t ever happened before.

He brushed his thumb across the page, eyes focused as he read. His lips quirked just a little. You really did have a filthy mouth. He took his lip between his teeth. The last three paragraphs were promises of what he would be coming home to.

“You lost, Bradshaw?” Rooster almost dropped the letter. His eyes widened slightly as he looked up to see both Admiral Simpson and Admiral Kazansky in the doorway to the office. He tucked the paper away in his pocket, standing up from where he had been perched on the desk and shaking his head quickly.

He hadn’t even known that Kazansky was coming. The letter felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket. Like they both knew exactly who it was from.

“No, Sir.” He stood to attention.

Cyclone furrowed his eyebrows, “So why in hell’s name are you in my office?”

“I, uh…” Bradley felt beads of sweat at the nape of his neck, “I was reading a letter from my girl back home, sir.” He hadn’t ever been a good liar, so he decided to just tell half of the truth.

“And you couldn’t do that in your dorm, because…?” Cyclone raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Iceman laughed, shaking his head, “C’mon, Beau. You remember what it was like. Those guys would make fun of him for weeks if they got ahold of a letter from a girl.”

Bradley relaxed just slightly as your father smiled at him.

“It’s alright, kid.” Iceman patted Bradley’s shoulder softly, “But Cyclone and I just need to have a chat. So, would you excuse us for a bit?”

Bradley nodded quickly, brushing past Cyclone as he left the office and hurried down the hallway.

“You shouldn’t be soft on him because you knew his old man.” Admiral Simpson muttered, shaking his head as he walked over to his filing cabinet and pulled it open.

“I’m not,” Iceman rolled his eyes, taking a seat opposite the desk. “I think he’s a good kid, and you know I’m right about those knuckleheads. I think it’s sweet that Bradshaw’s so considerate of his lady.”

Cyclone shrugged.

…

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#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster x you #miles teller #rooster bradshaw imagine

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khaylin27 · 1 year

Text

Dinner with the Mitchells

Chapter One of Unexpected

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Fem! Mitchell! Reader

Summary: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw and Y/N "Starling" Mitchell have been childhood friends due to their dads, but since Maverick pulled both your papers you guys were pushed back 4 years. After 4 years, you guys finally got into the Naval Academy together. During their time in the Academy, they decide to become friends with benefits, but Y/N accidentally gets pregnant by Bradley. They agreed to raise their kid together as friends, but what happens when Bradley is stationed in Virginia and you are stationed in Lemoore?

Series Warnings: accidental pregnancy, angst, fluff, there will be NO SMUT! (I suck at writing that)

Word Count: 2024

A/N: I'M SO SORRY Y'ALL HAD TO WAIT!!! I wanted to finish Dodgers vs Phillies Baby before I continue writing this new fic. Hope y'all like it 🫶

"So how did Bradley take it?" Natasha asked over the phone while you were cooking dinner.

"He was surprised." You grill some chicken while explaining to her what had happened with Bradley. "We went to the Navy clinic to make sure it wasn't a false alarm. Turns out it wasn't and that I'm actually pregnant."

"Are you going to keep it?"

You were silent once Natasha said that. You knew the risk of having a child in this line of work, you would be grounded for almost two years and after that the job of a naval aviator was a risky.

"I'm going to keep it. I know I'll be grounded for almost two years but I'm fine with that. This job doesn’t give us the chance to get married or start a family. So this really is just a blessing in disguise."

"Is Bradley going to help?" Natasha asks while you plate the chicken you just grilled.

"He said he wants to help when I told him he doesn't need to stay for this baby. I think he wants this baby too." Natasha knew not a lot about his background but he knew that his dad died at an early age.

"That's good. Did you tell your dad yet?" You were placing your food on your tiny dining table as she asked you that question.

"Not yet but he called me after the appointment saying he's coming to San Diego to spend time with me." Take a bite of your delicious grill chicken that was sided with steamed vegetables and rice.

"Does Bradley know he's coming?" Natasha also knew that Bradley didn't like your dad for some reason. She didn't know the reason though.

You laugh a little before you start to talk, "Well Bradley was with me when my dad called and my dad also asked if I can pick him up from the airport. I promised him that I would and would also treat him to dinner with Bradley."

All of a sudden you hear Natasha choking on water, "OMG TASH ARE YOU OKAY!?"

"YOU DID WHAT!?"

"I said that Bradley would have dinner with us!" You explain once again.

"How did that go?" Natasha asks trying to recover from choking on her water.

"Oh, you know Rooster." You say sarcastically. "He's dramatic and asked if I was crazy for telling my dad that he was coming to dinner. He told me he wasn't going to go but I told him he has to go. I invited my mom and sister so he wouldn't be alone."

"Y/N you can't do something like that? You didn't even take his feelings into consideration."

"Yeah, I did. I told him we would tell my family that we're having a kid together. I know that he's still mad at my dad but can they at least get along for the sake of our child!" You were irritated that Natasha asked you that question. You did consider Bradley's feelings, but why can't he take your feelings into consideration.

"Jeez, okay I get your point!" She sighs into the phone, "How do you think this dinner is going to go?"

"Oh, I'm expecting it to be a horrible dinner."

NEXT DAY (after picking up Maverick)

Driving back home from picking up Maverick was okay. It was filled with one on one conversations about how each other was doing and such. As you park on your driveway, you see Amelia and your mom getting parking as well.

"Sweetie, you didn't tell me your mom and Amelia were coming!" He gets out of the car to walk to Amelia and Penny to give them a hug.

You get out of the driver's seat and close the door. "Well I wanted to surprise you." Walking over to Amelia and your mom to give them a big hug.

"Hi, Pete," Penny says after hugging Maverick. "It's been awhile."

"It has." Your dad gives your mom the look he always gives when she sees her.

"Eww, Y/N can we go inside and make dinner?" Amelia asks you in disgust at what she's looking at between your parents. You nod yes and you two go inside while your parents have some catching up to do.

"So did you invite Bradley?" Amelia asks while peeling the potatoes.

After you cut the vegetables that Amelia peeled you looked at her. "Yes."

"OOOOH!! You guys finally a thing now?" If she only knew what you were going to tell all of them later that night. You weren't together but you were going to have a kid together.

"No, you know I don't like commitment." Putting the cut vegetables in the pot of boiling water, you hear the door open.

"Y/N!?" It was Bradley that had entered the house.

"In the kitchen." You holler out from the kitchen.

He walks into the kitchen and sees you. "Hey Y/N!"

"Here Bradley." You walk away from the pot of boiling vegetables to give Bradley a hug. "Did you say hi to Amelia?"

"Yeah Bradley!! Did you say hi to me?" Amelia says sarcastically.

Bradley walks to Amelia and gives a tight hug. "Hi Amelia!"

"Hi Bradley. I missed you." She says and hugs Bradley back. "Now go away so I can help Y/N."

Even though Amelia was your little sister, she was like a little sister to Bradley too. When Amelia was born, you and Bradley were 18. You two would watch over her while your mom had to work at the Hard Deck. Amelia considered you more than just her sister, she considered you as another mom. She considered Bradley not only a brother, but a father figure since her biological father wasn't around.

"Is there anything I can help with?" Bradley asks sitting on your bar stool watching you two cook.

"You can help me plate the food while Amelia sets up the table."

Bradley nods and goes to your side. "Scoot Amelia, go somewhere else." The 13 year old rolls her eyes at Bradley and leaves to go set up the table. "So are we going to talk about you know what?"

"Yeah, we're going to tell my parents the situation after dinner." You look at Bradley once you finish putting all the food in each plate. "How do you feel about this?"

This wasn't easy for Bradley, coming to have dinner with the man he resented. But he wasn't doing this for himself, he was doing this for the sake of you and their child. "To be honest, I don't want to be here. But I'm doing this for you guys."

You give Bradley a sad smile, this was a lot for him. "Thank you for coming. I don't think I can do this by myself."

"It's okay Star, we're in this together." Bradley gives you a hug and kisses the top of your forehead.

Once everyone came inside to go eat, it was the most uncomfortable dinner ever. You have Bradley who hated your dad, your mom who has a on and off relationship with your dad, and a big elephant in the room which is your child none of your family knew about.

Currently Bradley was helping you clean up dinner while you family was sitting in your living room. "Are those the last of the dishes Y/N?"

"Yeah looks like it," Bradley puts the last of the dishes in the dishwasher and starts it.

"You ready?" You ask Bradley while you took the ultrasound photo from the drawer in your kitchen. Putting the photo in your back pocket while you wait for Bradley to finish.

"No, but here it goes." Bradley walks with you to the living room where everyone was watching a movie.

"Finally you guys are done!" The impatient teenager says to you two. "Let's go play some board games."

"Actually we have to talk about something first." You and Bradley sit next to each other on the love seat couch.

"OOOH!! IS IT FINALLY WHAT I THINK IT IS!?" Amelia says so excitedly. She has been rooting for you two ever since she can comprehend what dating is.

"AMELIA!!" Your mom calls out Amelia's comment while your dad was smiling at her comment.

"No it's not, but I think you're going to like this one." Bradley looks like you seeing if you were ready. You nod yes and look at your family.

"So Bradley and I weren't planning for this to happen but it happened." You laugh nervously as you were getting the ultrasound out of your pocket. Once you get it out of your pocket, you put it on the coffee table so that they can all see it.

"I'm pregnant."

Looking at your little sister, her eyes went wide. "OMG YOU'RE PREGNANT!!" Amelia says happily getting off the couch and going to you two to give you a hug. "I'M SO EXCITED TO BE AN AUNTIE!!!"

"And I'm going to be a grandma!" Your mom laughs a little. "This is exciting! How far along are you?"

"12 weeks. We found out yesterday." You look at your dad since he was a little quiet. "How do you feel about this dad?"Your dad takes a deep breath before he starts talking.

"I'm surprised. You guys aren't together so this a big pill to swallow. I'm happy for you guys but at the same time I'm not. You guys are about to graduate within a couple of weeks! Y/N you're not going to be able to fly for almost 2 YEARS because you're pregnant! And you're going to be stationed in Lemoore Y/N. Where are you going to be stationed at Bradley?"

"Virginia." Your dad takes a deep breath again at Bradley's answer.

"Jeez, VIRGINIA! How are you guys going to raise a kid together if you're miles away from each other!" You can tell that your dad was upset about the situation.

"Dad! If you and mom could do it, why can't we do it?"

"There's a difference between your mom and I's situation than you guys. Your mom wasn't in the Navy, she has a stable job and was always there to take care of you. You on the other hand are in the Navy, you need to be realistic with this Y/N. You and Bradley are in the Navy, you guys don't have stability in the type of job you're in." Your dad was right. The Navy didn't provide stability for people in the field, you guys would always be moving around.

"It doesn't matter Pete. We're having this kid no matter what. You can support us or not." Bradley blurts out to your dad. "You know I didn't even want to be here because of you. But I promised Y/N that I would go for and get along with you for not only the sake of our unborn child but for her as well. If that doesn't say anything to you then that's your problem."

You take a deep sigh before you start to speak, "Dad, I know you don't agree with this but it is what it is. I know what I’m getting myself into and I’m fine with it. This job doesn’t give us the chance to get married or start a family. I don't want to wait until I'm old and regret not having children."

"How do you feel about this Bradley?"

"I support Y/N's decision and will help with her however I can." Your dad sighs at Bradleys's answer. He was happy that Bradley was going to help you.

"I'm happy that you'll help Y/N how ever you can, but it's not going to be easy." Your dad tells you guys true fully. "I know you don't like me right now too but I'll get along with you for the sake of your child."

You stand up and walk to your dad so you can give him a hug, "Thank you dad. I love you."

"I love you too," He looks at you and smiles.

"Wow, that was a lot." Amelia says sarcastically.

"AMELIA!!"

Here's to be added to the taglist

Taglist: @topguncortez @one-sweet-gubler @carsgeek24 @theliterarybeldam @sandyys-posts @merakiaes @adoringsebstan @wishingtobeforeveryoung1019 @lilmonstrjedi @blairfox04 @mygyn @atarmychick007 @louie-bug @emes-alexndra @k-k0129 @hmarsattacks @sebby-staan @the-simp-next-door @libra-2409 @iviste @super-btstrash-posts @ollyoxenfrees @inky-sun @mrsjobarnes @m14mags

#miles teller #miles teller x reader #los angeles dodgers #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun #top gun maverick #rooster top gun #rooster x reader #rooster imagine #rooster fanfic #bradley rooster bradshaw #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #top gun bob

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callsignthirsty · 1 year

Note

ur reblog of slider’s playlist has me thinking: could u perhaps write something where he fucks you like an animal .. because now that’s all i can think about. love your writing, you’re very talented !!

Hey Nonnie!

Hope this was animal enough for you (I may or may not have been listening to one song in particular while writing this).

And for those of you who missed the Playlist: you’re welcome.

Pairing: Ron “Slider” Kerner x F!Reader Word Count: 3820 Warnings: Smut, breeding kink (I went a little heavy on it this time… I refuse to apologize), under-negotiated kink (?), dirty talk, language Minors DNI

You Get Me Closer to God (I Wanna Fuck You Like An Animal)

It's a smooth flight into San Diego, and despite your early morning, you're practically bouncing in your seat as the plane taxis to the gate. There's a window somewhere behind the businessman to your left, but you can't see the tarmac around his padded shoulders.

Each minute feels like an hour as you wait for the plane to come to a final stop and for the flight attendants to open the cabin door. Then you're retrieving your weekend bag from the overhead compartment before you step into the mid-morning sun. The breeze rolls in from the sea, updrafts playing with the flirty hem of your skirt, coating everything in the unmistakable brine you've come to associate with Family Weekends on base.

The stairs down to the tarmac are steep, and you're forced to pay attention unless you want to fall flat on your face. When you look up, a blonde woman is reuniting with her husband. Your lips curl at the way she tosses his flower to the side so she can fling herself into his arms and give him a smooch before he squats down to pick up his kid. It's horribly endearing. Something straight out of a movie or the feel-good stories covered in the nightly news.

Bubbles erupt in your stomach when you spot him among the crowd. A hot, overpowering, all-consuming flutter that works its way up your throat until you're unsure if you'll laugh or throw up butterflies. He's a head taller than anyone else at the gate and as subtle as a sledgehammer when he elbows his way to you. He hasn't bothered with flowers; instead, he wraps you in his arms and trails a hand up your short skirt with none of the decency that his uniform demands. Luckily he isn’t dressed to the nines for your arrival. No. Just his usual, unassuming t-shirt and jeans. Because, after weeks of separation, with your face pressed into his chest and his palm cupping your ass before God and everyone at the gate, he isn't Lieutenant Ron Kerner. He's yours.

"Slider, come on," Ice says from somewhere over Slider's shoulder. "Goose's kid is right there."

You press a sweet kiss to the corner of Slider's lips, grinning at his grunt of disappointment before you turn to pull his pilot into a much shorter and far more platonic embrace. "Sli didn’t mention he was bringing you. I’d have dressed up.” Iceman chuckles with a roll of his eyes.

The three of you make your way from the open-air gate and into the terminal, and Ice shoves your bag into Slider's arms with a comment about keeping his hands busy that has you giggling. But it doesn't unglue you from Slider's side. He holds you close, an arm around your waist as you walk through the airport and toward the short-term parking garage.

You're ready to climb into the backseat when you reach Slider's car, but it seems Ice isn't coming with you. He pulls you into another hug before he lets you know it was nice to see you and offers Slider a quick wave before heading back the way he came.

"Where're you going?" Slider shouts in his direction while simultaneously tossing your bag into the backseat.

"Back to the terminal," Ice says as if it's obvious.

"Yeah, but why?"

Ice fiddles with his watch. "To hail a cab."

Slider rolls his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous."

But Ice shakes his head. "I'm not getting between–" he gestures vaguely at the two of you "–this." You thank your lucky stars for Tom Kazansky and his powers of perception — though you suppose it doesn't take a rocket scientist to piece together that you and Slider are itching to get your hands on each other. You figure Ice has heard all about Slider's intentions throughout many whiskey-induced ramblings. So if he'd been expecting Slider to insist, he'd be sorely mistaken. But you doubt that Ice is when he throws "I'll see you back at base" over his shoulder before vanishing in his venture back to the terminal.

"Don't wait up," Slider exclaims as he drops into the driver's seat and leans over to unlock your door. He has plans for you that involve a hotel and a king-size bed. Maybe even a couple noise complaints.

You study his profile as Slider puts the key in the ignition and the Trans Am purrs to life. But instead of releasing the clutch and putting the car in reverse, he turns your way. The hunger in his eyes is the spark, and you're the gunpowder. You meet in the middle. A frenzied locking of lips over the center console as your fingers tangle in his hair.

You grin into the kiss and nip at Slider's bottom lip, eagerly following when he retreats. The buzzing beneath your skin demands that you pull him in for more, but Slider really needs to get you both to the hotel. You clock the sympathetic look he gives you as he shifts the car into reverse. He gets it, you know. There isn't a doubt in your mind that he'd fuck you right now if it wouldn't get you both written up for public indecency. Reluctantly, you settle into your seat and fiddle with the radio.

The drive from the airport to your hotel isn't that far.

Well, it isn't supposed to be.

You've caught every red light along your route so far, and as another light in the distance turns yellow, your luck doesn't appear to be shifting any time soon.

“Fucking lights,” Slider grumbles. He didn’t buy a muscle car to drive the speed limit, but that’s exactly what he’s doing.

You lick your lips as the car rolls to a stop, savoring the taste of him that lingers there and growing increasingly impatient. "How much further?" You know you sound like you're six, whining in the back of your parent's station wagon an hour into a week-long road trip. You don't care.

"Five minutes," he answers, glaring at the red light. "More if this shit keeps up." You let out a discouraged whine. "I know, baby. But we're almost there." A gentle squeeze to your thigh has you melting, but it returns to the gearshift as the light turns green. You can't help but pout. It's a special kind of torture having Slider so close, feeling the ghost of his lips against yours but unable to touch him like you’ve imagined all this time apart.

Epiphany strikes as you drum your fingers in your lap.

Approaching what must be the millionth red light, you run your hands up and down your thighs, steadily inching your skirt higher and higher. Slider looks like he's about to ask you what you think you're doing when you maintain eye contact and carefully slip your panties down your legs. They fly into the backseat. Gone to the ages.

The hunger is back. Eyes dark as Slider drinks you in. Trailing up your legs to your fingers where they toy with your skirt and dip beneath the loose fabric.

"Eyes on the road, Sli."

The light's green.

The car rocks back as Slider steps heavy on the gas. His hand is on you as soon as he shifts gears. He tugs your thigh closer to him and flush against the center console before you let the other fall open with an encouraging moan designed to rile him up just like your skirt. Calloused fingers waste no time on your sensitive inner thighs, and he knows he's got tone when they zero in on your needy cunt. You shift in your seat to give him better access and are rewarded when he drags two fingers through your lips.

"Fuck, baby."

"Missed you," you say as you return the favor and cup Slider through his jeans. Palm grinding down against his fast-growing erection.

"I can feel that," he groans as his fingers leave you to switch gears, but they return before the car rolls to a complete stop. "Can't even wait until we get to the hotel, can you?" He doesn't wait for you to answer before easing a thick finger into you, and you toss your head back with a breathless, shameless shake. "That's why you wore your pretty skirt, isn't it?"

And why your panties are so kindly decorating his backseat. "Wanted your hands all over me."

When the light turns green this time, you put your hand on the gearshift so that Slider's can stay right where it is. You're rewarded with a toothy grin and a crook of his finger that has you keening, your fist tightening around his thick cock behind rough denim. "Soon," he promises, leaving you empty and patting your thigh. "We're here."

True to his word, you've pulled into the hotel's parking lot. Once you've parked, you straighten your skirt and step out of the car.

The concierge is a small desk near the front door set before an awful pistachio green wall. But Slider hadn't picked this hotel for its luxurious accommodations. Quite the opposite. Neither of you is willing or has the money to spend on something ostentatious — God knows the Navy doesn't pay Slider enough. You just need a door that locks and a big bed.

"Checking in?"

"Yes," you say, making your way to the desk and the man behind, cocking your hip as you lean forward ever so slightly to put your ass on display. A tease.

"What's the reservation under?"

"Kerner." Slider sidles up next to you at the counter, and you tune out the rest of the check-in process, more interested in guiding Slider's hand to cup your ass. For what it's worth, Slider doesn't skip a beat, reminding the concierge of his military discount as he kneads the cheek in his big hand. The desk clerk isn't paid enough to care and goes to retrieve your key with a near-dead look in his eyes, handing it over before mumbling something about calling the front desk if you need anything.

Slider stops by the car to pick up your bags before herding you toward your room like an over-eager cattle dog. He's right behind you as suddenly-clumsy fingers fumble the room key. The door unlocks with a heavy clack, and you have just enough time to register that one of the walls has been painted in the same offensive green as the concierge desk before the door slams shut, and your bags are unceremoniously dumped.

You’re crowded against the wall as greedy hands pull you up until your tiptoes barely graze the rundown carpet. When Slider bows to kiss you, you turn your head. "Sli, c'mon," you feign annoyance, gently shoving at his shoulders as he bites sweet bruises into your collarbone. "I wanna put my things away."

A thick thigh slots between your own, flexing against your throbbing clit as hands find your ass and hoist you the rest of the way off the ground and into strong arms. "Don't act all shy now," Slider husks into the curve of your neck, hot breath chilling the spit-slick skin and forcing a shiver up your spine. "We both know you want me to fill up that pretty pussy." And like that, he's reduced you to a pile of goo.

Breath hitching against his lips, you give up the ghost. Fingers tangle into his curls as you rock your hips over stiff denim, too drunk off the taste, the smell, the feel to stop even as the rough weave scratches your sensitive skin. He's already got you soaked, innermost thighs slick from where your needy cunt has begun to drip, so you tear into each other.

You pull Slider's shirt off to wind your fingers around his dog tags and give them a tug, explore his broad chest — smooth skin and well-hewn muscle at your fingertips — and he does the same. Gets rid of your bra only to mouth at your tits while you tug at his belt so you can get his pants pushed far enough down to get his cock out.

The sting of sharp teeth has you arching into Slider's mouth, distracted as his hands ruck the body of your skirt up around the waistband, the fabric wrinkling and creasing between you. It's the furthest thing from your mind as he helps you wrap your legs around him. "You ready?" he asks, and the heels of your white sneakers dig into his lower back as you nod and try to pull him as close as possible; then he pushes into you with a groan.

You love how Slider towers over you, muscles flexing as he holds you steady against the wall, precisely where he wants you, as his cock stretches you wide and fucks up into you with a pent-up, feral passion. How his curls begin to dampen and droop into his eyes. Your toes curl in your shoes, your head thunking back against the wall as he brushes against your sweet spot.

When Slider steps back, and your shoulders come off the wall, your whole body clenches. You bite back a startled yelp, fingers desperately trying to hold on but only succeeding in marking him with angry red lines.

He pulls out to set you on the bed, kicking his pants off as you toe off your sneakers before the mattress dips beneath his weight. The duvet is scratchy, but it's easy to forget when his lips trail fire from your hip up to devour your own, a heady buzz under your skin when he hauls one of your legs over his shoulder before he sinks back into you. And it's deep. Further than your fingers or toys and so much better because it's him caging you against the bed, bringing you to the very edge of sanity, and kissing you until you're breathless. Your cheeks burn with the wanton noises that tumble out your mouth as he leans forward, your hamstring threatening to cramp as he folds you in half, your ass lifting off the bed to give him a better angle to piston his hips into yours with a wet slap.

It doesn't take much in this position to push you over the edge. His gaze piercing as you cum with a cry, fingers twisting in the duvet.

Slider pulls out while your walls are still tensing, his fingers filling, crooking, and teasing to try and draw out your pleasure. But his fingers — while delightful — are a poor substitute for his cock. You whine, body shaking at the loss and the overstimulation as his fingers attack your sweet spot.

"Sli," you gasp, head thrown back and eyes closed, sneaky tears leaking into your hair.

"Hmm?" His free hand kneads at your hip, the crease of your thigh, the dip of your waist while he sloppily kisses across your neck, chest, middle.

"Baby, please."

Slider leans over you, lips inches from yours before he ducks to the side, your belly swooping when he captures the corner of your jaw between his teeth. "Don't wanna cum yet," he rasps, swallowing your mewl in an eager kiss. His fingers continue to tease you until your hips roll into each shallow thrust instead of jerking away.

You luxuriate in the closeness. Opening your eyes to see him above you. Gasping for breath and finding him there, too, in the hints of minty aftershave and the musky cologne you'd bought him for Christmas two years ago. Goosebumps everywhere you're pressed against each other as if your very skin is reaching out for a better taste of his tan skin covered in a sheen of sweat. A warm, tingly feeling blooms in your chest as you wrap your arms around his neck, and he holds you in turn. A lightheaded, giddy feeling that's never gone away when you're around him. One that only seems to grow with each passing day.

Slider isn't quite wrecked, but he's definitely on his way there. Pupils blown wide as he lines up with your quivering cunt and slowly buries himself back in you. Big hands press your thighs into the mattress, keeping them spread wide as he drives his hips into yours and sees to another bruise — this one indecently high up on your neck.

"God," he groans, "you're so fucking wet." His hips grind sinfully into yours until you're writhing, and your pussy gives a slick squelch as if to prove his point. Teeth tug on your earlobe. "What's got you so wet, baby?"

"You," you breathe out. "Fuck, Sli. You."

"Fuck yeah," he grits into your cheek before recapturing your lips in a filthy kiss. "So good for me, baby. So perfect. So wet." Calloused hands circle your waist before dragging down to frame your hips, pulling you onto him with every thrust. "You been waiting for me to make a mess of this pussy."

Your head thrashes to the side with an obscene moan, heat blooming from your cheeks down your chest as your cunt throbs. "Sli–"

"That's right," he purrs, thumb petting your pussy lips where they're stretched and tight around him as your mouth hangs open in silent arousal. "Gonna fuck you right through this mattress, get you all pretty and dumb on my cock, then I'm gonna make you forget what it was like to be empty. Keep you stuffed and dripping for days."

"I'm not on birth control."

Everything stops.

The creaking of mattress springs.

Your breathing.

Slider.

Your eyes, closed in pleasure a moment ago, open, but the look on his face is unreadable. You should say something. You open your mouth, hoping the words will come to you, but you're being manhandled onto your knees, face pressed into the mattress before you can get your hands beneath yourself, and Slider is so deep inside of you that you can practically taste him. He folds over you, one hand fisted in the skirt bunched around your waist, the other braced near your head as he all but growls: "I'm gonna put a fucking baby in you."

And oh.

Teeth clamp down on the skin behind your ear, hips humping and grinding filthy against your sopping core as he tries to work himself deeper. But it isn't enough. He pulls out and pounds forward, grunting in self-satisfaction as you scream.

You're far from the only one making noise now. Slider runs his mouth between moans that he's no longer trying to hold back. Can't seem to keep it shut. "You like that?” he pants against your shoulder blades. “I know you do. Can tell from the way you moan and clench around my cock." He's got your back bowed so much he's practically fucking down into you, trying to drill you through the mattress just like he promised.

"God, you're so fucking perfect. Taking it so good for me." Your face is hot, your heart catching in your throat as each heady groan vibrates through his chest and serves to wind you tighter. Slider nuzzles into the crook of your neck, mouthing over your fluttering pulse as one of his hands clutches possessively low over your belly. "Gonna keep you full of me." You keen, head thrown back to give him more access to a long line of unblemished skin. "Not gonna be able to go anywhere without it dripping down your thighs, and when it does–" he grunts, hips stuttering "–I'm gonna fuck it back into you. Fill you up again until your pussy's all sloppy, and you can't walk."

"Oh, fuu– Ron. God. Yes! Give it to me. Please, Ron, please.” It’s desperate, pleading, and needy all in one heaping moan. You're going to cum and he hasn't even touched your clit.

"That's it," he says, brows drawn in a determined line as he unglues himself from your back. "Gonna– fuck– you gonna cum for me?" His hips crash into yours without rhythm, chasing his own end and knowing from the way your walls quiver and try to suck him deeper that you're just as close as he is. But you shake your head, stubborn and desperate to keep it going, to ride this high for as long as you can. "Yeah, you are." His palm is sweaty where it still rests over your womb. "Then I'm gonna fuck you again. And again and again, until it takes."

You lock up, vision whiting out as pleasure overtakes you, starting where you clench around Slider still so deep inside you and radiating to your fingertips. And Slider's right behind you.

Usually, he likes to make a mess of you. Pull out and cum all over your pussy. Leave the tip inside so he can watch his cum dribble down your thighs and onto the sheets. But this time, his hips press tight to yours to ensure nothing goes to waste. He groans into your shoulder, pulling you back onto his dick as it pulses, and makes you take every last drop, a shiver running up his spine and his ears staining red.

When he finally pulls out, you stay where you are, too fucked out even to slump against the hotel linens. But you don't have to move a muscle. Slider slips your skirt down your legs and gathers you in his arms, surrounding you in warmth. You catch your breath between kisses, fingers twirling and catching in his sweaty curls and tracing over the day-old stubble that lines his jaw.

He presses a kiss to your forehead as your breaths even out. He opens his mouth, then closes it to collect his thoughts. "You didn't actually stop taking your birth control, did you?" he finally asks, voice uncharacteristically soft and brows raised.

"Ew. No," you huff into his chest. "I was horny, Ron, not stupid." Besides, that's something you need to discuss together before you start flushing pills down the drain. You feel his chuckle bubble up in response as he presses a kiss to your hairline.

You idly draw circles into Slider's chest as the sunlight creeps through your blinds and tracks across your bed, the tv remote lost somewhere on the other side of the room. Neither of you is willing to get up and find it.

"So…" you drawl as your fingers begin to trek lower than is purely innocent. "You want to put a baby in me, Sli?" And there's no way he can hide how his dick twitches with your legs are tangled together as they are.

"What can I say?" His fingers card through your hair to angle your face toward his and whispers against your lips, even though it's the world's worst-kept secret: "It's hot."

Your eyes droop to half-mast. "Well, I don't see any reason why we can't practice." You have the entire weekend and have yet to rack up a single noise complaint.

Slider's lips part in a dagger grin. "God, you're perfect."

#thirsty answers #thirsty's masterlist #fic: you get me closer to god (i wanna fuck you like an animal)#top gun 1986 #top gun fanfiction #ron slider kerner x reader #female reader #ron slider kerner x you #top gun smut #ron slider kerner smut #slider smut #ron slider kerner x reader smut #playlist inspired #song: closer — nine inch nails #no i will not stop thirsting over this man #the author's breeding kink may or may not make an appearance #(no i'm not sorry about it)#special guest appearance by the bradshaws

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alakeeffectgirl · 10 months

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cruisequarries PART TWO

PART ONE What did we get up to yesterday? 2018? Okay. I will put everything behind a spoiler cut again (there are more pictures/a video today).

Actually, let's rewind just a little, for some Fallout premiere pictures just because.

Paris, July 12th:

London, July 13th:

Seoul, July 16th (according to the designer's website, the hanbok Heather is wearing was designed as a wedding dress, mmhmm)...

I love this picture because they're making those faces at Chris. Here's the bit of Tom making Heather cry in Tokyo:

I highly recommend listening to Tom & Chris commentary track on Fallout, which starts with McQ introducing himself as the writer/director and then Tom introducing himself - as McQ's friend. After the Fallout press tour wraps up, work starts in earnest on Top Gun: Maverick, which Tom and McQ have been discussing - idly, on McQ's part - for years now. "Our relationship is one long conversation about movies," indeed.

While TGM is filming, pre-production is also happening on MI:DR, which McQ has signed on to direct. (These two are usually juggling at least two projects at a time, and really it's probably more like five projects at a time.)

In January of 2019, they're all back in LA so Tom and McQ can pick up some awards.

The McQuarries also go to a premiere and look fantastic (I love McQ's suit):

Tom and McQ go to Ukraine to scout Dead Reckoning locations later in 2019, meet President Zelenskyy, and McQ gets to put his arm around Tom for once instead of their usual other way around.

OH NO I ALMOST FORGOT - at the end of 2019, Tom took the whole McQ clan with him to Las Vegas to see Lady Gaga and ask her to write the TGM song. [cries in 'that's his family']

Production ramps up on DR - and then unfortunately, as we all know, COVID. Most of the cast and crew were in Venice when everything shut down, but Tom hadn't arrived yet.

Production resumes in Rome in October (their production struggles/trying to keep everyone employed/Tom rightfully yelling at people to follow protocols because a lot of jobs depend on them is all well documented), and then moves to Venice. Heather and the dogs are also part of this traveling band.

This isn't six feet apart, dudes...

Production breaks for the holidays, and resumes in Abi Dhabi for the airport/desert sequences, and also one of my favorite pictures of Tom and Heather, just for her expression.

Train sequence filming in Yorkshire in April of 2021, that's Heather in the blue coat:

DR production then breaks for a bit over the summer so Tom can take all his friends to Wimbledon, go to several car things, and make McQ watch football (the soccer version).

DR filming resumes in the fall/winter. Heather goes with to South Africa and they rent out what is basically an adults-only hotel (and save it from having to close!), for part of their stay. I love this picture because Gypsy looks so long-suffering:

OKAY IT'S 2022 NOW, time for the Top Gun: Maverick premiere tour to start - finally! (Do any of these people SLEEP? No. I think it's well-documented that Tom Cruise does not sleep, which is part of what makes him Tom Cruise, but also this means he calls McQ at two in the morning to talk about movies. There's a podcast somewhere where McQ says he thinks Tom might sleep "between the 2:05 email and the 2:40 email", or something along those lines.) (After getting back from South Africa, there was a bunch of test screening stuff for TGM, which is why there are those parking garage pictures. Wouldn't the movie be done, you'd think, since it was supposed to be out in 2020? COVID gave them a reason to tinker with it even more.) The San Diego premiere on the USS MIdway (all the McQs were there, but there aren't any good pictures):

Then Tom went to Mexico, and McQ went home to London for a few days before Tom returned, and they went to the Royal Windsor horse show together.

THEN EVERYONE WENT TO CANNES. Sorry I have just a shitty screencap with a watermark here but alas tumblr only lets you put one video per post. Tom and McQ stopped to get their picture taken en route to the actual photocall and Tom made Heather come back and be in the pictures with them. There is video here.

Cannes, of course, was amazing. I have garbage homemade gifs but they're too big for tumblr (also they're garbage) but all the Cannes red carpet footage is available on YouTube, here and here. (Worth it for Heather, tbh.)

They went straight from Cannes - on Tom's helicopter - back to London for the Royal premiere. Where the McQuarries looked amazing and McQ wore his McQ shoes.

And the after party, because heaven forbid they not all ride in the same car:

And then the McQuarries got a slight break, while Tom went to do more TGM press. But he was back in London by the end of June, and they went on what can only be described as a string of dates. First, they went to the Rolling Stones concert at Hyde Park.

McQ was on Tom's other side, but he's only visible in video (the Daily Mail might be garbage but they do come through with the media).

Then Tom and Heather went to The Eagles show at Hyde Park:

And they all went to see Adele - also at Hyde Park. (The woman in the pink sweater is Tom's CAA agent Maha Dakhil Jackson - I found the picture where you can see Heather over Tom's shoulder.)

Then for Tom's birthday, they went to the F1 British Grand Prix (with some other TGM folks, but they aren't three steps behind Tom like the McQuarries are).

Oh no, we're not done. Tom takes Heather to Wimbledon, where she holds his sunglasses (not visible in this picture).

McQ did not go with, as he was recording a Light the Fuse podcast - which he surprise-dialled in a bunch of DR folks - and his final surprise was Tom. Who was still at Wimbledon with Heather. McQ calls Heather to get Tom, and Heather plays dumb and is like, "oh I don't know where he is, did you try calling him?" and Chris says he already told the podcast guys that they were together. So Tom does his segment from the car he's in with Heather, and his part is only supposed to be like ten minutes but he talks for about forty-five and this includes telling the world they basically all live together. Then they went out to dinner!

And the next day they all went to Wimbledon with Maha and her husband.

I'm stopping here because this is already SO LONG and 2023 is going to be wild just by itself! PART THREE

#cruisequarries

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estrellami-1 · 1 year

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Breathe

Also I’m trying my hand at a permanent taglist… let me know if y’all want to be added!

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Eddie had gone on before him. It wasn’t fair to keep him waiting, but, well… Steve had tried to warn him about smoking.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Steve’s eyes drop closed as he thinks over his life. It was good. Once Vecna was gone, once the hospital scare was over and done with, it was good.

Exhale.

Inhale.

They’d all grown up, separately but together. Robin and Nancy, surprisingly enough, had been the first to leave. Then one by one, the rest of the Part followed in different directions.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Robin and Nancy had moved to San Diego. Dustin and Suzie settled in Maine, of all places. Lucas and Max picked Florida. Will and Mike were closest in Indy. El and Erica—with whatever they had going on—were in Oklahoma, trying to find normalcy.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Steve and Eddie had bought an RV and traveled the country. Visited the kids. They were there for Dustin and Susie’s first kid (and second, and third). They were there when Nancy got her first journalist award. When Mike and Will tied the knot, even if it wasn’t exactly legal yet. When El and Erica needed some familiar faces. When Lucas and Max had gotten hitched. They’d even driven them to the airport, seen them off for their Colorado honeymoon.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Never any kids of their own, Steve reflects. Except in all the ways they did. Everyone had been there for Eddie. Crowded into the hospital room, annoying the fuck out of the hospital staff and uncaring, because that was their Eddie, their brother, their uncle, their grandpop.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Steve had seen memories flash through Eddie’s eyes, like they’re doing in Steve’s mind right now. Their first kiss, sun-drenched and summer-sweet, tentative and so, so hopeful.

Exhale.

Inhale.

When they bought the RV and visited everyone for the first time, rolled up in front of their houses and laid on the horn until someone had gotten annoyed enough to peep out the windows, only to run outside when they realized who it was.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Will and Mike first, since they were closest. Eddie and Steve had taken them out to a gay bar—a nicer one than they’d ever been to at the boys’ age—and had fun for a night. They’d stayed for a few days before making the trek up to Maine to see Dustin and Suzie. Skiing and dinner and loud laughs long into the night.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Then they’d gone to see Max and Lucas in Florida, getting horribly burned the first day and regretting it for the next few days. Max and Lucas had both made fun of them. Then a rather uncomfortable drive to Oklahoma to see the girls. El, who had been learning to cook, made them all dinner. They were introduced to May and Alex, two kids who had needed help. Eddie had put his arm around Steve’s shoulders like he knew Steve had been holding back tears.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Then off to San Diego to see Robin and Nancy. Robin had yelled and barreled out the door. Steve had done much the same thing after parking the RV, and the hug lasted long enough that Nancy had helped Eddie bring their things inside and were well on their way through the first of many iced teas. They’d stayed there the longest, even toyed with the idea of making home base somewhere near.

Exhale.

Inhale.

But Steve knew Eddie, knew he’d want to be near Wayne, at least while he could be. So they returned, set up camp in a town about the same size as Hawkins, about an hour away. Settled in. Hired someone to cut the grass. Bought groceries. On their third day there, kids had come around, intrigued by the new RV, drawn close by the sound of Eddie’s guitar. Kept close by Steve’s snacks.

Exhale.

Inhale.

They’d pseudo-adopted a few kids from that town. The kids had decent parents, who would come over from time to time and joke about Steve and Eddie stealing their kids. The nights would end in beer and laughter and more guitar, softer than the metal Steve had fallen in love with, but no less beautiful.

Exhale.

Inhale.

They grew up together. They grew old together. What goes around comes around, because a few short years ago Eddie had been in this very same hospital, right back in Hawkins. The familiarity of it all had given Steve double vision at times. He’d been there when Eddie passed. Felt him squeeze Steve’s hand for the last time.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Steve hadn’t cried until he’d gotten back to the RV. After all the condolences, the paperwork, the well-meaning bouquets and cards. The family they’d made, who were just as heartbroken as he was.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Steve had driven off, secluded himself for a few months, as he learned how to breathe without Eddie around. He didn’t make any more trips, but he did return to the town they’d made their own. He saw their youngest kids, their parents. More condolences. More faked smiles.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Now, he gives the ceiling a genuine smile. He’d kept Eddie waiting for too long. He takes his last breath and steps into the rest of forever, Eddie by his side.

Permanent Taglist:

@justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround (you didn’t ask but I figured you’d be ok w it… but if not lmk, no hard feelings!)

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homomenhommes · 5 months

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STORY: Ups And Downs 19

Dinner and Dessert

With less than two weeks to go until our big trip to New York and Connecticut, Woody called Rafael and me into his office to begin making preparations. I took notes with my new Wacom note pad. Our itinerary would look something like this:

Wednesday morning: fly to New York City, check into the St. Regis Hotel (overlooking Central Park and just two blocks from the Museum of Modern Art)

Thursday: cocktail reception in Mr. Block’s suite, followed by dinner for 10 in the Presidential Suite

Friday afternoon: Mr. Block, Woody, and I take the train to Stamford, Connecticut, and then travel by rental car to Greenwich for the art show; Rafael remaining in New York (unsupervised)

Sunday afternoon: take the train back to New York City

Monday: Mr. Block and Woody attend an international conference on LGBT+ rights at the United Nations; Rafael and I free for the day

Tuesday: Mr. Block, Woody, and I fly back to San Diego; Rafael remains in NYC for another week before flying to Spain

“We don’t always stay at five-star hotels,” said Woody, “but Mr. Block chose the St. Regis for two reasons: one, he will be entertaining a very exclusive group of gentlemen, and two, he sees this as an opportunity for the two of you to learn what constitutes first-class service. So, while we are there, take pictures and take notes. Before we check out, you will meet with the hotel manager to ask him any questions you may have. This is an exceptional learning opportunity for both of you, so make the most of it.”

After going over the general outline, Woody dismissed Rafael but kept me behind to work out details. My assignment was to make all the reservations—flights, hotels, train, rental car, and dinners. At the art show, I would be expected to provide whatever services might be needed by Mr. Block, Woody, or the show organizers.

“You’re in charge,” Woody told me, “but don’t be afraid to ask for help. Rafael has been through all of this before, so he can answer almost any question you might have. And when you talk to the sales manager at the hotel about that dinner, pull Kim into the conversation to work out the menu and other arrangements. He’s a pro at that.”

As I got up to leave Woody’s office, he called me back and handed me two things: a box containing the latest iPhone and a credit card. “Use these to make the reservations,” he said. The credit card belonged to Mr. Block’s account, but it had my name on it.

For the next week and a half, I worked my tail off, not only making the reservations and other plans for our trip, but also assisting Rafael, Ron, and Kim in their duties, learning as much as I could so that I could fill in when they took days off.

Of course, I still managed to squeeze in sexual adventures two or three times a day. I had sex before work and after work and sometimes during my lunch break, but never during work hours. I never had to look far for available or willing sex partners. They were everywhere.

I remembered what Woody had said about having sex in the limo, the barn, and the boats, so I made sure to play out those fantasies as well as quite a few others.

On the day of our departure, Ron drove the four of us (Mr. Block, Woody, Rafael, and me) to the airport in the Navigator—plenty of room for the five of us plus our luggage. Sitting next to me in the rear seat, Woody handed me an envelope containing $500 in bills of various denominations. “Remember,” he said, “you’re in charge. This money is to cover tips and any other incidentals that you can’t charge to the card. Use it wisely, but don’t be chintzy with the tips. These guys work hard to make our lives easier. The least we can do is to show them our appreciation.”

On the plane, the four of us sat in first class. I had originally booked Rafael and me in coach, but Woody made me change it. “You must constantly be watching out for anything that Mr. Block or I might need,” he said, “and you can’t do that if you’re not with us.”

Mr. Block and Woody took the aisle seats, giving Rafael and me the window seats. Since he and I couldn’t exactly chat with our bosses sitting between us, we texted each other as soon as the overhead lights went off. We joked about the flight attendants—two females in first class and two guys in the back who didn’t exactly appeal to either of us. We lamented the fact that Freddie wasn’t working that flight.

We initially dismissed the idea of having sex in the lavatory since we had both already been inducted into the “mile-high club,” but then it dawned on us: yes, we had both had sex on a plane, but not with each other. When Rafael got up to go to the lavatory, I waited about a minute and then followed him. Walking away, I heard Woody remark to Mr. Block, “They’ll be a while,” which drew a snicker from Mr. Block.

Rafael and I laughed about the fact that the lavatory in first class was bigger than the one in coach, which made it easier for him to ride my dick at 35,000 feet. At one point, we hit a little bit of turbulence, but that only drove my cock deeper into Rafael’s ass. I thought he was going to give us away when he squealed with stunned delight.

When we arrived at the St. Regis in the limo they had sent for us, the desk clerk immediately called the hotel manager, who came out to welcome us. With two cute bellhops carrying our luggage, he escorted us to the Presidential Suite, which was huge—basically a 3000-square-foot luxury apartment. It not only had two bedrooms, one for Mr. Block and one for Woody, but also a living room, a private office, and even a dining room, where our dinner would be catered. The manager, Mr. Danvers, also introduced us to Conrad, the butler assigned to the Presidential Suite. I tipped each of the bellhops $20, but Woody pulled Conrad aside and told him that Rafael and I were there to learn about superior service and would he….

“Mr. Danvers has already explained the situation to me,” Conrad assured Woody. “It will be my pleasure to assist them as well as you and Mr. Block.” Woody thanked him and slipped him a $100 bill.

The two bellhops then led Rafael and me to our rooms down the hall. Though the rooms were not suites, they were more elegant than I could have ever imagined. We had connecting rooms, each with a king-size bed.

As we settled into our respective rooms, there came a knock on my door. It was Conrad. “Mr. Block would like to have dinner at 7:00. Would you like me to reserve a table in the restaurant or will you have dinner in the suite?”

“I’ll have to call Woody and ask him,” I said, but before I could move, Conrad informed me, “Mr. Woodward said that the decision is yours to make.” When Woody said I would be in charge, he wasn’t kidding.

“Hmm. What would you recommend, Conrad?”

“I am happy to make whatever arrangements you wish, but since you will be dining in the suite tomorrow evening, perhaps you would like to try our restaurant tonight. The menu is excellent, the ambiance is quite nice, and you might become acquainted with some of our other guests.”

Conrad was understating the case. The Court restaurant was gorgeous and filled with handsome, well-dressed, and obviously rich gentlemen—mostly older, but some younger than 30. The four of us were well dressed too, Rafael and I in our new Brooks Brothers suits.

When the maitre’d asked Mr. Block if we had reservations, he and Woody remained silent and just looked at me. “Uh, reservation for Mr. Block,” I bucked up.

“Nice save,” Woody whispered to me as we were led to our table. “You’re catching on.”

I felt a twinge of embarrassment at having initially missed the cue, but hearing Woody compliment me pumped up my chest like you wouldn’t believe.

Conrad was right about the menu too. The food was delicious.

“There’s nothing on our calendar tomorrow until the cocktail reception,” observed Woody, “so what do you plan to do with your day, Joe?” My instinct was to say that I would take the time to see some of the sights of New York, but the fact that Woody directed the question to me and not to Rafael and me both, tipped me off that this might be a test.

“I think I should get together with Conrad to make sure that everything is in place for the reception and the dinner.”

An ever-so-slight nod from Woody said to me, “Go on.”

“And I think I should reconfirm our train and hotel reservations for Greenwich.”

When Woody took a very faint breath and leaned back in his chair, I knew that I had scored, but I didn’t quit there.

“Is there anything else I can do for you tomorrow, Mr. Block? Lunch reservations perhaps?”

The faint smirk on Woody’s face said to me, “Now you’re just showing off.” And I ate it up.

“That won’t be necessary,” replied Mr. Block. “I think Woody and I can take care of ourselves for a few hours. Why don’t you and Rafael use the time to get acquainted with the Big Apple? It’s a fascinating city.”

I thanked him but reminded him that I was just a phone call away if he needed anything.

When dinner was concluded and I saw the waiter approaching our table with the bill, I signaled to him to bring the check to me, which he did. After looking it over and adding a generous tip, I signed the check to my room. I think even Rafael was impressed.

As we were leaving the restaurant, we passed a table with two very handsome gentlemen whose eyes followed us out. When we got to the elevator, I said, “You guys go on up. I want to check with the concierge about sightseeing tomorrow,” which was a lie, of course. I was headed back to the restaurant to get acquainted with the two hunks.

When I approached their table, they invited me to sit down while they finished their dinner. “They have sumptuous desserts here,” I commented.

“They certainly do,” gushed one of the men, “and they’re not all on the menu apparently.” I feigned embarrassment, which they thought was adorable.

They complimented me on my new suit, which was obviously a ploy since they were both impeccably dressed themselves, and one of them asked if he could feel the material. Of course, I said yes. I’m not stupid. As he stroked the lapel between his thumb and finger, he let his hand rub against my chest, especially my nipple, which started to rise to the occasion. “Oh, man, this feels really good,” he cooed. “I’ll bet,” said his friend, who had started a seduction of his own by rubbing his leg against mine under the table.

Taking the hints, I told them about our shopping trip to Brooks Brothers and also to The Body Shop in San Diego, which led them to ask what kind of underwear I had bought and what kind I was wearing that night. “I’ll bet you look fucking hot in them,” said one of the men. “And even better out of them,” the other one dared to say.

“And your friend who was with you at dinner. Did he buy new underwear too? I wonder what he’s wearing tonight.”

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “I didn’t check before we came down to dinner, but I’m sure he’s in his room now. Maybe we could all go ask him.”

Well, I didn’t exactly have to twist their arms. They quickly finished their dinners and followed me upstairs.

When I knocked on Rafael’s door, he must have been exercising some ESP because he came to the door in his sexy underwear, which drew oohs and aahs from our two new friends. Rafael didn’t even look surprised when I led them into his room. Maybe when I said I was going to talk to the concierge, he suspected where I was really going and anticipated what the outcome would be.

The outcome, of course, was the four of us ending up naked in Rafael’s king-size bed. They both claimed to be versatile, but when they saw our dicks, they insisted on having us fuck them, which Rafael and I were perfectly happy to oblige. Actually, we swapped back and forth, fucking our respective partners for a few minutes and then, with a tag team slap of the hands, trading partners. The businessmen loved it.

As we fucked them, they occasionally leaned over to kiss each other and sometimes pulled us into kisses. It was such a delight to watch two incredibly handsome men kissing each other and kissing us. It was such a turn on…as if we needed any extra stimulus. Rafael and I both shot our loads more quickly than either of had intended and somewhat to the disappointment of the guys under us, so we tried to make up for the abbreviated fuck by sucking on their cocks, which they also unloaded more quickly than anyone would have preferred.

With our mouths full of their man cream, they kissed us again, swapping their cum with us and with each other until we ended up in a four-way cumfest.

After they got dressed and left Rafael’s room, he and I showered, but before we could finish drying off, the phone in his room rang. It was the two guys inviting us to their room. “Our husbands are back from their evening out and would like to meet you.”

To be continued

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katblu42 · 9 months

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Day 8 and Day 9

Day 8 was my last day in San Diego. Check-out of the hotel was in the morning, but my flight out was not until the evening, so I had one more half-day with my fandom (and roadtrip) friends in La Mesa.

All the goodbyes were done as they dropped me off at the airport (around 3pm). It's been such a blast meeting all these awesome people that up 'til now had just been names, aliases and avatars on fan sites.

Anyway, my flight from Sand Diego to Vancouver left around 5:30pm, flying up the coast until I could see snow-capped mountains below us, sometimes protruding above clouds.

(No prizes for guessing which airline I flew with!)

Managed to spend a bit of time on the flight working on my minibang fic!

Touched down in Vancouver a little after 8:30pm. Customs and baggage claim cleared, taxi ride downtown and I was in my hotel room by 10pm.

It's so weird to be in a place where the sky stays so light so long after sunset - not to mention that the sun doesn't set until 9pm! At 10pm the sky was just beginning to darken enough to call it night.

Day 9, getting my bearings in Vancouver, finding out what I can walk to and where I might need to take the bus, and how to go about that . . .

Decided to take the bus to Stanley Park and visit the Vancouver Aquarium. Took about 200 pictures of fish and marine life and frogs and Amazonian animals (including monkeys).

Then it was off for a walk around (one end of) the park.

Even encountered some of the local wildlife.

On the way "home" I had to stop in at a Rocky Mountaineer visitor center to pick up my boarding pass and luggage labels.

By the time I got back to the hotel my feet were sore from all the walking. So, I stayed in, cooked some dinner (my hotel room has a really good kitchenette!!!) and took it easy for the evening!

#my big north america adventure #day 8 and day 9 #vancouver #stanley park #vancouver aquarium #so much walking!

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loquaciousquark · 2 years

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an account of hope, an account of redemption

So if you recall, I lost several beautifully mature, beloved trees in my backyard over the last year and a half or so. Well, about a month ago, I ordered two Schumard oak saplings through my local landscaping company on the advice of our state arborist. These are trees which grow well in my state and which grow fast without compromising strength, and they turn a stunning red in the fall.

So the landscaper calls last week to tell me the oaks are in. They close at 3:00 today, so I head out around noon to run some errands, then roll up to the building around 1:30 to check in and pay.

First wrinkle: the staff member who's going to help me load the trees takes one look at my small SUV, the back seats optimistically folded flat, and just shakes his head. No way, he says, not a snowball's chance. Not even on top like a Christmas tree? Impossible. He directs me around to the back of the lot where the trees are, and I see--oh man, no way. They're fifteen feet tall, the root buckets almost two feet round, no way these are EVER going to fit in, on, behind, or above my car. Do I have a friend with a truck? Buddy, if I had a friend with a truck, I'd be here in a truck. They suggest renting a trailer from Home Depot.

First hope: turns out there's a Home Depot two minutes from this landscaper. I call, and indeed they have one trailer I can rent. I hurry over--it's now about 2:15. On the third try I pick the right door and hurry to the tool rental desk. She starts to check me in.

Second wrinkle: They can't rent me anything because my driver's license is expired as of exactly seven days ago. (Secondary concern: I'm supposed to be on a plane to San Diego in a little over a week. A blessing in disguise this was discovered?)

I walk out to my car empty-handed, disappointed, trying to figure out when the heck I'm going to be able to get this trailer, get back to this landscaper, get home, and get the trees installed before I leave for this trip. I call my mother and tell her hey, is it okay if I just vent for a second? I'm so disappointed and I can't believe I did this to myself. Everything seemed to be falling into place so nicely, and now this. How do I get to the DMV given how busy my coming week is?

Huh, she says. Can't you renew your driver's license online?

Second hope: sure enough, there's a link on the state DMV website. There's a bunch of blanks to verify my identity. There's confirmation I've registered to vote. They're happy to take my credit card information. Five minutes later, I have a receipt, a printout, and confirmation of my renewed license. Oh, it's nothing, my mom says in response to my effusive gratitude. My hairdresser of thirty years told me he had to do this last year in line at the airport.

Home Depot takes it. The guy who hitches me up to the trailer compliments my car, tells me they don't make them like that anymore, and tells me it's perfect for me. Considering I just spent 4k getting it fixed, this was massively validating.

Back to the landscaper! 2:38 arrival, fifteen minutes to load up the saplings and strap them down for travel. The trailer is the perfect size. Thank God my dad suggested getting this hitch installed so many years ago; it's saved my bacon a hundred times. The guy who'd helped me earlier reassures me that when they lose their leaves in a week (we're finally dropping below freezing), not to worry, and here's how to check for life over the winter. Two gallons of water per inch of trunk twice a day, put the soaker hose in a wide ring around the tree to encourage outward growth of the roots.

The trees make it home, a little battered from the highway speeds but not much worse for wear. They're just on the edge of too heavy for me to lift, so I drag them down the driveway into the backyard. Trailer returned to Home Depot. The guy there helps me back into the parking spot; I think he really enjoys teaching, and I'd made the mistake of telling him I had no idea how to back up a trailer. Still don't, not really, but hey, he had a great time.

Home again and time to dig. Digging holes is hard. I have newfound respect for Stanley Yelnats, because even with relatively soft ground my arms and back are killing me. One of the trees had very fine roots that were easy to break up before installing; the other had thick, girdling roots all the way around the root ball which every guide I read, including the one from the arborist, told me to cut and pull away to avoid throttling trunk growth later in life. I will tell you that I am still petrified of how many of those I cut, the thickest about 3/4" wide. Four vertical slices around the root ball, two inches deep each, they said. Well, I did it, and the crisscrossing cuts underneath the ball after, and loosened up all the matted dirt I could, but man oh man I don't feel good about it.

The guides say always plant shallow over deep for trees. Encourage lateral growth; don't smother them, or the water will just go straight down and the roots will follow. I've done my best, so we'll have to wait and see now. I'm not very patient by nature, so this is hard for me, but I still feel like today was full of good work. If nothing else, I know where I can get another tree, and I know where to get the trailer to do it. But they're in the ground, they're watered, and I have hope! After today, I feel okay about starting there.

#quark rambles #long post for ts

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usafphantom2 · 9 months

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The Top-Secret Warplanes of Area 51

Bill SweetmanPublished Oct 1, 2006 10:00 AM EDT

Aviation photo

On a trip to las vegas in 2004, observing from my east-facing hotel room in the pyramidal Luxor Hotel at daybreak, I watched a fleet of six unmarked 737s make commuter flights to nowhere. These aircraft depart every weekday morning from a tidy, anonymous terminal on the western side of McCarran International Airport. A long line of cars pours into a 1,600-spot parking lot as the jets pull away from the terminal, taxi to the runways, and head out into the desert sky. At the end of the day, the shuttle flights return and the lot empties. The passengers go home and tell their families nothing about what happened at work that day.

Cut to April 4 this year. San Diego is hit by a rumbling shock that isn’t an earthquake. It is ruled out by the media as a sonic boom after military operators claim it is not one of their aircraft. San Diego Union-Tribune reporter Alex Roth does some digging and comes up with six puzzlingly similar incidents around the country since 2003.

Fast-forward to July, at the Farnborough International Airshow in southeastern England. Frank Cappuccio, the avuncular vice president of Lockheed Martin’s secretive Skunk Works division, opens a press conference by introducing what he calls a promotional video, “something to show the kids and families about what we do.” Two minutes into the show, a gray, cockpit-less airplane that nobody has seen before-it looks like a B-2 bomber’s chick-soars over a backdrop of stony, barren hills and mountains.

All these events are linked. They are the visible signs of an invisible, parallel world within the universe of aerospace and defense: the classified, or “black,” world of secret military programs. Those unmarked 737s were ferrying employees to the flight-test center near Groom Lake, Nevada, known to the public as Area 51. The gray airplane is Polecat, a next-generation stealth unmanned aerial vehicle (UAV)-Cappuccio’s video was his sly way of unveiling the program. Those earthquakes? Quite possibly sonic booms from a long-suspected hypersonic attack vehicle, a sleek aircraft that has consumed the imaginations of black-project enthusiasts and military analysts, including me, for two decades. Though seemingly dormant in recent years, the program appears to be on the move again, and with a renewed vigor that has me feeling, somewhat unsettlingly, a bit like the aerospace industry’s own Ahab.

Invisible Fighter

The Vehicle: Stealthy, unmanned combat aerial vehicle The Technology: Visual stealth, including active fuselage lighting that blends into background The Evidence: Patent filing, development of key technology, obvious gap in current arsenal

The black airplane world has, without question, produced the most significant advances in aviation technology. In the 1950s, it spawned the U-2 spyplane, which flew higher and farther than anyone had thought possible. It gave birth a decade later to the SR-71 Blackbird, the exotic, revered speed king. It also produced the slow but stealthy, origami-like F-117 fighter.

But for aerospace sleuths, there’s been little activity recently in the form of declassified vehicles that might hint at current efforts. (Classified programs can be unveiled to aid in broad combat deployment or when the technology appears in other programs.) The F-117 came out of the black world during the first Iraq war 15 years ago, and only three aircraft have been introduced since. One was Polecat. Another was Northrop Grumman’s ungainly reconnaissance aircraft Tacit Blue, nicknamed “the Whale.” The third was Boeing’s Bird of Prey, which tested visual stealth strategies, including shaping that minimizes shadows and contrast and, rumor has it, body illumination that allows it to blend into its background.

This dearth of unveiled prototypes does not mean, however, that the black-aircraft community is dormant. In fact, all signs point to steadily increasing activity. Google Earth reveals a newly constructed additional runway and multiple new hangars and buildings at the base. The usual vague, untraceable allocations in congressional budgets that often signal classified programs are on the rise, and modern technological innovations are now enabling aircraft designs that might have floundered in the black world for years. Further, there are significant gaps in the military’s known aviation arsenal-gaps that the Pentagon can reasonably be assumed to be actively, if quietly, trying to fill.

The need for such secrecy is simple: It is essential to preserving technological surprise. The Pentagon wishes to prevent enemies from developing strategies to counter the technology. The challenge is to figure out what precisely is happening-without betraying national security-because the bigger the black world gets, the better it conceals its activities. What follows is inescapably an educated guess, arrived at by analysis of the available evidence, at the tantalizing designs being cooked up on the sly at Area 51, including a radical special-forces transport, a stealthy UAV, an agile new bomber, and my own white whale-the mythical, hypersonic dragster and presumed source of those faux earthquakes: Aurora.

Recon Platform

The Vehicle: Unmanned flying-wing capable of long-duration surveillance flights, measured in days and weeks instead of hours The Technology: Autonomous flight controls and ultra-efficient electric motors powered by solar panels or fuel cells The Evidence: Patent filing, clear current need, recent development of key technology

Delivering Special Forces Behind Enemy Lines

One of the best pointers to a secret program is an obvious gap in the “white world” force, and one of these gaps is a stealthy, short-runway transport airplane. The U.S. Air Force’s special

operations community has talked for many years about stealthy transports that could take off and land vertically or on a few hundred feet of level ground (a soccer field is the classic example).

The new V-22 Osprey tilt-rotor transport is a partial answer to that problem, but the military would really like something faster, so it can fly farther into and out of enemy territory, and the Osprey’s big rotors quickly betray it to radar. So far, there is no sign of unclassified, white-world money developing such a vehicle. In 1992, however, Skunk Works engineers filed a patent application for such an aircraft. (New aircraft can take years to develop. A 14-year-old patent filing could easily represent a current program.)

Tailless, with a blended wing and body, the aircraft is powered by six jet engines driving rotor-like lifting fans ensconced in wide, round bays in the wings. For takeoff and landing, doors and Venetian-blind vanes cascade open, and the fans lift the airplane vertically. While cruising, the engines drive smaller, forward-thrusting fans. Why six engines? The engines and fans are interconnected by an elaborate system of cross-shafts so that any engine can deliver power to either side of the airplane. With six engines, the airplane can complete a mission if one fails.

Is something like that out there today? The job of a vertical-takeoff-and-landing aircraft still needs doing, perhaps now more than ever before, and, barring antigravity solutions from the friendly aliens at Area 51, an aircraft like this is one of the few ways to get it done. Technologically, it is probably benefiting from the innovations behind the Osprey’s power-sharing engines-in that aircraft, if one engine fails, the second still drives both propellers-and the development of the shaft-driven vertical-lift fan in the new F-35 Joint Strike Fighter, or JSF.

Special-Ops Infiltrator

** The Vehicle:** Vertical-takeoff-and-landing aircraft for transporting special-ops forces to hostile areas The Technology: Blended-wing-body design with six jet engines powering lift fans and providing forward thrust The Evidence: Patent filings, obvious gap in current arsenal, recent development of key technology

New UAVs: Unmanned, Invisible, Unlimited

Although manned fighter jets and bombers have long dominated classified programs, unmanned vehicles are rising as quickly in the black as in the white world, particularly because the Air Force lacks any kind of stealth-reconnaissance aircraft. It plans to replace the U-2 spyplane with the Global Hawk UAV, but even though the Global Hawk has the advantage of being robotic-that is, capable of longer flights and expendable, since there’s no human on board-it doesn’t fly as high and can’t carry the same hefty high-performance cameras as the U-2. Nor does it carry a jammer to spoof enemy missiles.

Polecat, just outed from the black world, is part of the answer. Lockheed Martin representatives talk about an operational version with U-2-like altitude and payload, along with technology to avoid visual detection (including features seen on the Bird of Prey) and, perhaps, an automated system that detects a contrail behind the airplane and tells the flight-control system to change altitude.

Other stealthy UAVs have probably been tested-among them, possibly, armed UAVs. It is known, for example, that engine maker Williams International delivered the first dozen or so of its new FJ33 small jet engines to the U.S. government four or five years ago, but no known project uses that engine. A recent report in Jane’s International Defence Review described another, larger vehicle that uses different engines from Polecat, apparently recycled from a 1960s UAV program. The article speculated that the engines are probably General Electric J97s, built for a UAV called Compass Arrow.

Why reuse old jet engines? There is only one good reason. The J97 was unusual in that it was designed to operate at up to 80,000 feet, an altitude at which most jet engines cough, stall, and quit. The Air Force does not send the stealthy B-2 and F-117 over hostile territory in daylight, because those planes could be easily spotted. But at 80,000 feet, six miles above a fighter’s cruising altitude, the sky is almost as black as night, and a UAV could survive at high noon. I suspect that both Polecat and the second, larger stealth UAV are currently undergoing high-altitude flight-testing at Area 51.

Some UAV projects may be much slower than even the stealth birds. A Boeing patent filed in 2004 describes a vehicle that is a cross between an airship and an airplane-employing both buoyant lift from helium gas and wing lift generated by forward speed, and capitalizing on recent developments in on-board solar power generation and autonomous flight control.

What would be the advantage of such a vehicle? For one thing, it would have long flight endurance, measured in days or weeks rather than hours. For another, airships can easily be made to accommodate very large and sensitive antennas. If you want to locate weak or sporadic radio transmissions-such as cellphones or scattered satellite phones used by insurgent groups-the airship is an ideal platform.

On-Time Delivery

The Vehicle: Aurora Mach 6-plus attack aircraft The Technology: Ramjet-powered delta wing The Evidence: Telltale sonic booms; unconfirmed sightings; unresolved history of long-rumored program; recent development of key technology; large, unexplained current budget allocation Is speculating on top-secret military technology a national security risk? Tell us what you think on the PopSci Blog).

Revived Avenger Offers Stealthy Ground Attacks

Another surprising gap in U.S. capabilities is the lack of an all-weather, stealthy ground-attack aircraft. The Joint Strike Fighter is supposed to do that, but not until 2014. The new F-22 Raptor, mostly an air-to-air fighter, will be able to do some of it eventually, but that jet carries a relatively modest 2,000-pound bomb load. The F-117 Stealth fighter can be flown only in clear nighttime weather-it has no radar to bomb accurately through clouds, and its black coating easily betrays it to ground spotters.

Fellow black-project sleuth Jeffrey Richelson, author of the 2001 book The Wizards of Langley and one of the leading historians of U.S. intelligence efforts, guessed in a recent conversation that a behind-the-scenes tour of Groom Lake might reveal a revived program to plug that gap sooner than 2014, when the JSF flies.

A hint about possible all-weather attack vehicles now in testing-ones available sooner than 2014 and capable of carrying significant bomb loads-could reside, aerospace historian Peter Merlin pointed out, in a test pilot’s unclassified biography. Daniel Vanderhorst, who flew Northrop’s Whale and six other secret aircraft in a 20-year career, evidently “tested modified landing gear and conducted initial tests of internal weapons bays and weapon separation tests.” What’s unusual about this is that most prototypes are simple aircraft without weapon bays, which suggests that this airplane was closer to an operational type. Specifically, I’m guessing, it could be an extension of the heavy-payload, all-weather attack jet A-12 Avenger II, which then”Secretary of Defense Dick Cheney canceled in 1991 because it was overbudget and not meeting its technological goals.

The flying-wing, carrier-based stealth-strike airplane was being developed under a tightly classified but not-quite-black program. The jet was only 11 months from first flight, and nobody has ever disclosed what happened to the partly built prototypes. If one of them had been completed and tested in a revived black program, most likely in the early 1990s, it could have pointed the way toward the F-117 replacement that Richelson suspects is flying now. Unlike the other stealth aircraft, an operational A-12 descendant would combine stealth ground-attack capability with the ability to shoot back at enemy fighters, packing a pair of anti-radar missiles and two AIM-120 air-to-air missiles.

Providing On-Demand Worldwide Attack

Lastly, there’s Aurora. The name itself is mysterious, evoking something you may or may not have seen. This code name leaked out of an unclassified budget document back in 1985. Such a vehicle-a ramjet-powered reconaissance and strike aircraft capable of flying at least five times the speed of sound and deploying anywhere in the world in a matter of hours-has been high on the government’s wish list. Aurora is certainly possible. The basic propulsion unit, the ramjet, is no more than a tapered tube with a fuel injector and burner in the middle and a thrust nozzle at the end. Basic ramjet-powered missiles have topped Mach 6. A wealth of aerodynamic data and test flights suggest that a wedge-shaped aircraft would work at these speeds.

I first heard about this kind of program in the mid-1980s, and the first public hint of the project popped up in 1988, when the New York Times reported that the Air Force was developing a spyplane capable of better than Mach 5-nearly twice as fast as the SR-71, then the world’s fastest airplane.

Two years later, the Blackbird was retired. In June 1991, the first in a series of unexplained shock waves rolled across the Los Angeles basin, rattling doors and windows and making people think of earthquakes. But they were not earthquakes, and the military adamantly denied that any of its vehicles caused the booms. In May of this year, I consulted with Dom Maglieri, an ex-NASA sonic-boom expert who has played a key role in the development of low-sonic-boom aircraft. We studied 15-year-old seismograph data from the California Institute of Technology, whose uniquely sensitive sensors could actually track the booms. “The data showed something at 90,000 feet, Mach 4 to Mach 5,” Maglieri says now. The booms did not look like refracted, “over the top” booms, as other reports had indicated-booms from aircraft miles away that had traveled up through the atmosphere and bent down toward Los Angeles. The booms looked like direct overflights by a supersonic airplane that no one admitted to owning. “The signatures are awfully different,” Maglieri says.

Shortly after the first set of waves appeared, Chris Gibson, an oil engineer and well-known aircraft-recognition expert, contacted me. In August 1989, Gibson said, he had been working on a North Sea rig when a colleague called him outside to see a formation of airplanes overhead. Clearly silhouetted against the sky were two F-111 bombers, a KC-135 tanker and-in refueling position behind the tanker-an unidentifiable delta-shaped airplane, about 90 feet long, a near-perfect match for unclassified studies of high-supersonic cruise airplanes.

This evidence helps establish the program’s initial existence. My investigations continue to turn up evidence that suggests current activity. For example, having spent years sifting through military budgets, tracking untraceable dollars and code names, I learned how to sort out where money was going. This year, when I looked at the Air Force operations budget in detail, I found a $9-billion black hole that seems a perfect fit for a project like Aurora.

Over the years, I’ve learned that few people investigate budget holes seriously. Analysts such as Steven Kosiak of the Center for Strategic and Budgetary Assessments, a Washington, D.C.”based think tank that pushes innovation in defense, doubt that Congress even knows what’s going on. “A fair amount of classified spending goes through in supplemental requests,” he told me. “It’s seen as must-pass legislation, and people don’t look at it closely.” This $9-billion gap and the most recent booms felt in San Diego and elsewhere are the most compelling evidence for the program’s resurgence. (We can’t analyze the new booms because seismic sensors of the same type were not present.)

But if Aurora has been active for years, why would it be surging forward now? The main hold-up has probably been fuel. The way to make a hypersonic cruiser work is to use circulating fuel to soak up the engine’s heat, but conventional jet fuel can’t absorb enough heat to do the job. In the 1980s, Aurora would have been designed to use fuels such as hydrogen or methane, which are gaseous at normal temperatures and had to be supercooled and densified to fuel the aircraft. Although that strategy is possible, it’s not operationally easy, and complicated refueling would be counterproductive for a jet intended to provide prompt overflight when the military needed it. Better fuels and engine technologies exist now.

The question, finally, is does Aurora exist? Years of pursuit have led me to believe that, yes, Aurora is most likely in active development, spurred on by recent advances that have allowed technology to catch up with the ambition that launched the program a generation ago.

Bill Sweetman is a PopSci_ contributing editor and author of more than 30 books on aerospace technology._

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