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i-will-be-there-one-day · 2 years ago

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Soo well written like damn… had my attention from the start

MONSTER (m.)

neighbor!simon riley x reader

tags: zombie apocalypse au, neighbors to lovers, afab!reader, no pronouns, hurt/comfort, smut, NO MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH

cw: description of corpses, simon is aggressive towards you, but also very soft!simon, protective!simon, violence, simon does murder someone, lots of kissing, wet&messy sex, multiple orgasms, edging (simon), missionary position, mating press, fingering, cunnilingus, creampie, breast play, squirting, overstimulation, dirty talk, pet names, eye contact, praise, teeny bit talkin u thru it

note: i think that's all the neccessary warnings but if u think smthn else should be added, let me know. please enjoy this MONSTER fic!!!

; you find yourself hiding out in your apartment as the undead begin walking. luckily, you have a well-trained military operative as a neighbor who is more than willing to keep you safe.

16.5k

“Residents are advised to remain in their homes. Authorities are unsure what is causing the severe aggression in people but the military has been called in nationwide. Please stay tuned as more information becomes available.”

That was the first news broadcast. They reported people getting sick-- airborne is what they had said. Stay inside, and stay away from other people.

So you did just that – stayed hidden away in your apartment, glued to your television for every possible news cast that you could get.

It was only a week later that the whole story had come out.

The airborne strain is what caused the first swell of infections. Anyone who was susceptible to the infection would have already become sick by now. But those who were infected by the airborne strain turned…feral. They became like wild animals, barely human. Their skin rotted around them while they were still alive. Their brains died but their hearts remained pumping. They were walking corpses that had a vicious hunger for human flesh.

The bites are what caused the following wave of infections. Something in their saliva turned you into whatever they were.

You were scared. When you looked outside your window, down just a few floors to the ground, you could see hordes of people stumbling around, shuffling and shambling.

Sometimes you would hide in your bathroom as the sounds of gunfire filled the city. It was the worst when it was the middle of the night.

You weren’t equipped to deal with a disaster of this level – humans turning into disease spreading killers. You were having to ration your food, waiting for the day that there would be an announcement that it was safe.

You wanted it all to be over.

Then the news broadcasts stopped, cell service dropped, and the populace was left in the dark.

You kept the lights off in your apartment, scared that the wandering hordes outside would see it and find you.

You had no idea how long you had been hiding in your apartment, spending most nights with your knees to your chest as you watched the static on the TV. You held out hope that the news broadcast would come back, but it never did. You spent the days and nights in mundane monotony, hopelessness settling in.

The only interruption was a heavy knock on your front door, practically making you jump out of your skin at the sound of it. You hadn’t expected anyone to actually approach your apartment in search of you. It terrified you that anyone could be out there at a time like this.

With wide eyes and trembling hands, you grabbed a kitchen knife off of your counter and tiptoed towards the front door. Peeking through the peep-hole, you let out a heavy sigh of relief.

Throwing the door open, you were faced with the familiar balaclava of your neighbor across the hall.

“Simon…” you whispered in relief.

He wasn’t lunging nor did he have the milky-white eyes of the undead that you had seen on the news. He was normal.

“What’re you planning to do with that?” he asked, eyeing the kitchen knife still in your hand.

“Oh!” you gasped, quickly placing it on the table by your front door, “Sorry, you– you– startled me when you knocked. Would you like to come in?”

His lidded, brown eyes gaze around your apartment behind you before landing on you again, “You have anyone else in there?”

You blink and slowly shake your head, “No, I’m alone.”

His brows furrow at that, “You’ve been by yourself this whole time?”

You shrug and nod, “What else was I supposed to do? The news reports said to stay inside…”

He hums, “Are you sick?”

“No, I’m fine,” you respond quickly, “Why?”

Suddenly there’s a hand on your forehead and you realize he’s checking your temperature. You remain still and allow him to do it before he's shoving his hands in his hoodie pockets.

“Fever’s the first symptom,” he explains, “I’m goin’ door to door to check on everyone.”

“Oh!” you gasp, smiling, “That’s very nice of you, Simon.”

You knew that Simon was in the military. He was often out on long deployments and sometimes he had tasked you with keeping an eye on his apartment since you were right across the hall from him.

He was a nice enough guy, if not a little cold and blunt. He was tall and broad, clearly well built despite the fact that he usually wore a hoodie that hid his biceps from view. You’d gotten glimpses of his tattoos when you had knocked on his door one evening and asked him if he knew anything about water heaters because your hot water had been out for nearly a month in the dead of winter and the apartment manager hadn’t done anything to help you.

Simon had kindly come to your apartment, even though it was nearing midnight, rolled his sleeves up and fixed your problem within the hour. You had baked him cookies as a thank you that following weekend.

“How is everyone doing..?” you venture to ask, leaning against the doorjamb as a breeze flows into your apartment from the open door.

He casts a glance down the hallway, almost like he’s thinking before sighing, “Few people are sick. They’ve been…” he hesitates for a moment, “Quarantined.”

“Probably for the best,” you respond, “Keep them from hurting anyone when they…turn.”

It feels so surreal to be talking about confining people to keep them from literally eating the healthy people. But it seems that’s where you’re all at now.

“I’m going to barricade our floor,” he says suddenly, “Keep anyone from comin’ in that’s not supposed to come in.”

“What if we need to leave?” you ask, concerned, “We’re only going to have finite food and resources between us. The power’s also going to go out sooner rather than later, Simon.”

“I know,” he sighs, “But we should stay indoors for as long as possible. When the power runs out and we run out of supplies, we can figure out what to do next,” he explains, “The military was on the ground here last I heard, you’ve heard the gunshots. I don’t believe they’ll last much longer but it’s not wise for us to go out while they’re tryin’ to eliminate as many of these…undead as they can.”

“I guess that makes sense…” you whisper before his words finally settle on you, “What do you mean you don’t think they’ll last much longer..?”

He levels a hard stare at you that makes your heart race in anxiety. Simon was always a serious individual by nature but this is how you imagine he looks when he’s on duty, “Hundreds of thousands of people are sick out there. The airborne strain no doubt got to hundreds of the soldiers meant to be protecting the civilians. Eventually, they’ll eat each other from the inside out –literally.”

“You mean even the military is going to collapse..?” you ask, horrified. You try not to let the tears fill your eyes but Simon’s words fill you with a dreadful sense of hopelessness.

“Communications are cut,” he says finally, “Radio’s been silent all day. Not sure what’s goin’ on but it’s not good.”

The tears quickly began to fall down your cheeks. Before you could wipe them away, a calloused thumb was doing it. You sniffled and looked up at him.

“I-I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” you confessed softly, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to survive, Simon.”

“Don’t you worry about that, love,” he whispered, grabbing your chin gently to make you look up at him, “I’ll take care of you, yeah?”

“I don’t want to be a burden…” you explain, wrapping your arms protectively around yourself.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I took care of you,” he joked, though it held little humor, “You won’t be a burden. I’ll teach you what you need to know, alright?”

“You will?” he nods when you look up at him hopefully and you smile, “Thank you, Simon. I don’t really want to die by getting eaten by walking corpses.”

He chuckled under his mask, brown eyes crinkling around the edges a bit, “It is pretty fuckin’ mad, isn’t it?” You laugh, the first genuine smile you’ve cracked since before that first news broadcast, “Why don’t you come across the hall and stay with me, yeah?”

“Is that okay..?” You can’t deny the idea of being with company sounded more appealing than anything. You were definitely beginning to feel the ebbs of loneliness creeping in on you as the days of silence passed. Plus, Simon was…safe, “The news said not to…mingle in case of the disease spreading.”

He scoffed, “Rules like that don’t really apply anymore, love,” he mutters softly, “Plus, neither of us is sick so it’s not like we’ll spread it anyway. I can teach you some knife work and how to use a gun easier if we’re together, yeah?”

“Okay,” you smile, excitement surging in your chest, replacing the painful void of hopelessness you had, “Let me just get some things together and I’ll be right over, okay?”

“Sounds good, love,” you can tell he’s smiling under the mask. He gives you a pat on the shoulder before stepping away, “Just knock when you’re ready.”

You stand in your doorway until he disappears into his apartment. Once you’re alone, you cast a cursory glance around your living room, eyeballing everything you need to take before you dash into your bedroom. From the back of your closet, you grab a duffle bag that you have stowed away in the back of your closet from when you first moved in.

Navigating in the dark of your apartment was a bit of a challenge but you managed to stuff all the essentials into the bag. After slinging it over your shoulder, you step out of your apartment, making sure it was locked before knocking on Simon’s door.

He opened it quickly, still wearing the same hoodie, jeans, and balaclava as before – his hood still up as well. He stepped aside for you to enter.

Unlike you, his apartment was illuminated by lamps – but his windows were covered with blackout curtains so no light would seep outside. It was pretty plainly decorated, just the essentials and a few photographs on the walls; upon closer inspection it looked like him and, you assumed, his comrades.

You went to place your bag down but he stopped you, “I cleared out a drawer for you to put your clothes in for the time bein’.”

“Oh…” you gaped at him, surprised to hear that he had done something like that for you, “Thank you, Simon.”

He led you to his bedroom, standing in the hallway while you walked in. His bedroom was darkly decorated, black out curtains on the windows, navy blue sheets and a black comforter on his bed. His furniture was all dark toned as well.

It suited him, you thought.

There were two drawers open and empty, letting you know that those were yours for the taking. You knelt down and opened your duffle bag, carefully folding and placing your items inside. When you got to your undergarments, you cast a glance towards the door to find that he was no longer standing there. Breathing a sigh of relief, you quickly filled the top drawer with all of your delicates before closing the drawers and standing up.

Flicking on the light to his en suite bathroom, you placed your toothbrush and toothpaste alongside his, the sight making you blush before you went to add your belongings into the shower as well.

Realistically, you knew that the water was going to go out sooner or later but you planned to enjoy it for as long as you possibly could until then.

When you ventured into the living room, Simon was in the kitchen, the cabinets open as he scanned over all of his belongings.

“Is something wrong..?” you asked softly.

“Thinkin’ of how to ration,” he replied quickly, “Have you got any stuff over at yours still?”

You nod your head, “It’s not much but I have some canned food and like...rice and stuff if you want that.”

“Yeah, it’ll be good to consolidate all our supplies in the long run,” he explained, “You got your keys?”

“Yes!” you pull your keyring from your pocket and drop it into his open palm.

“I’ll be right back love, make yourself at home,” he gave you a gentle nudge towards the couch before leaving you there.

You took a seat on the couch, realizing just how tired you were. You hadn’t realized how tense you’re been for so long on your own. Now that you were safe and with company, you could almost feel the tension sliding right off of you. You rested your head against the back of the couch and closed your eyes, intending to just rest your eyes and enjoy the peace you felt.

You were startled awake by the sound of the door slamming shut. You nearly jumped out of your skin, wide eyes finding Simon’s who looked a little sheepish.

“Sorry, love,” he whispered, “Didn’t realize you’d be sleepin’.”

“Didn’t mean to…” you confess, standing up and stretching, watching Simon lug a bag of food into the kitchen.

“Haven’t been sleepin’ well?” he asked, his back to you as he began to stock up the cabinets.

“Not really…” with a sigh, you lean back against the counter with your arms crossed over your chest, “I’ve been stressed about this whole situation.”

“It is…” he pauses in his words, placing a bag of dried beans into the cabinet, “Nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

“Society is really collapsing around us, isn’t it?” you bravely ask, although you were scared to hear the answer.

“Yeah, darlin’,” his voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it and that brings a fresh wave of tears to your eyes.

“This is so fucked up,” you cry, burying your face in your hands, “Thank you, Simon. You didn’t have to offer to help me and I really owe you a lot.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he closes the cabinet, the bag he brought finally empty before turning to you, “I’ll make sure you know everything you need to know to survive.”

“I doubt I’ll be as good as you,” you joke, a crooked, wobbly smile on your face.

He steps forward and cups your chin, brushing his thumb against your cheek, “No one’s as good as me, sweetheart.”

You chuckle softly at his words.

This is what you needed – someone by your side to keep you sane as society collapsed and everyone that you knew died.

That night, you slept better than you had in days. Simon had given you his bed, offering to take the couch. You had argued, telling him that you couldn’t take his bed like that.

“I’m up most nights anyway, love,” he had assured you, “At least someone around here can get a good night’s sleep in that bed.”

When you woke up, fully rested you might add, Simon was already awake, drinking some tea. You sat down beside him, enjoying a nice quiet morning.

“How do you feel about learnin’ some basics today, love?” he asked when he was cleaning his mug.

“Sure!” you agreed, “I have to warn you though, I really know next to nothing…”

“That’s alright,” he chuckled, waving to you to follow him to the living room, “I’m a good teacher, I promise.”

“I don’t doubt that,” you watched as he stood up and went to a closet in the hallway, pulling out an assortment of bags and carriers.

He placed them down beside the couch and took a seat next to you. “I think it’s best if we start with you gettin’ comfortable with the feeling of holding a weapon in your hands,” he explained, pulling out a knife bigger than any you’ve seen, “This is a hunting knife.”

He handed it towards you, his fingers confidently gripping the blade between two fingers. You wrapped your hand around the handle, testing its weight in your hands. It was dangerous and nerve-wracking, holding a weapon in your hands.

“I know it’s scary,” he assured, “But when you’re comfortable holding knives then you can learn to use them properly to protect yourself.”

“What about guns..?” you find yourself asking, still gripping the knife in your hands, turning it over and adjusting your grip just to desensitize yourself to it.

“We’ll tackle guns when you get used to knives,” he replied.

“So you have guns?” you ask, letting him pull the hunting knife from your hands.

“Of course I do,” he reaches into a bag by his feet, pulling out a pistol.

Your eyes go wide as you watch him handle it effortlessly, checking the chamber and moving it around in his hands like it wasn’t a dangerous weapon.

“When you’re ready, I’ll teach you to properly use one so you can use it in case of an emergency,” he explained, placing the pistol on the table carefully.

“I’m going to have to kill other people…” you mutter to yourself.

Simon pulled out another knife, passing it into your hands, “Combat knife,” he supplied simply, “And you’ll have to kill them but…I don’t think they’re people anymore, love.”

“I guess that’s true…” you mutter, holding the knife with a firm grip, “I’ve only seen them on the news before it stopped broadcasting. What about you?”

“Haven’t seen ‘em in person either,” he replies with a shrug, “Some of my…teammates,” the words seem awkward coming from his mouth but he continued, “Were givin’ me some information before they went radio silent.”

“What happened to them?” you couldn’t help but ask.

A brief flash of sadness flashed over his eyes but he quickly sobered up, leaning back against the couch with a sigh, “Not a clue. I guess there’s no way for me to know. I just know it was getting bad. Dangerous.”

“I’m sorry about your teammates,” was all you could find in supply of an answer.

Simon didn’t respond, simply letting his gaze fall back on the knife, “Let me show you some handling techniques for you to practice.”

Realizing that he didn’t want to talk about the world outside anymore, you let him lead you through a crash course on knife handling and knife safety. He took the time to teach you the different kinds of knives in his possession and you nodded along as best you could but if you’re being honest – it was primarily lost on you.

You’re not sure if Simon knew that but he seemed to enjoy teaching you, so you let him ramble on to his heart’s content.

By the end of the day, you were confident enough in at least not accidentally cutting yourself on the sharp blades.

In order to repay him, you made dinner for the both of you – though, really, it was just some heated up canned soup-- and did the dishes for him so he didn’t have to.

By the end of the night, you both found yourselves on the couch, watching a movie he had put on. With there being no way to watch anything else, you were grateful he had a collection of movies to his name – you simply streamed your favorite shows and movies and called it a day.

It ticked late into the night and before you knew it, you were falling asleep on the couch, leaned against his shoulder. You could feel him shift and knew you should open your eyes, but the tugs of sleep at the edges of your subconscious kept you from doing so. Suddenly, you felt the soft beat of his heart against your ear and the heavy weight of his arm laid across you. You briefly registered that you were now wrapped in his arms before the final tug of sleep pulled you under.

When you woke up, you were in bed.

And Simon wasn’t in the apartment.

“Simon..?” you called, looking around everywhere for him – to no avail.

You ventured to the door, carefully pulling it open and stepping out. You looked down the hall towards the stairwell before you heard a grunt of effort from the other end.

“Simon!” you called, making him look up.

“What’re you doin’ out here?” he asked, pausing in his task of pushing a large bookcase towards the elevator.

“You weren’t inside…” you mutter, wandering down the hall towards him, “What’re you doing?”

“Barricading this elevator,” he replied, giving the heavy object another push with a grunt of effort.

“Oh, right, you mentioned you wanted to do that,” you mumbled, taking a moment to look over him.

He wasn’t wearing his hoodie for once, instead wearing a tight black t-shirt that was sticking to his skin with sweat. He wore his jeans with a holster and gun on his hip as well.

“Do you need any help?” you asked but he shook his head.

“No, you can’t help with this, love,” he grunted, giving the bookcase one final, heavy push before it was flush against the elevator doors.

It was then that you noticed the straps nailed to the wall. He took them and secured them to the other side of the elevators, making sure the bookcase was fastened firmly.

“Enough people push this and it’ll come down but at least it’s secure enough,” he explained, giving his work a final once over.

“Do you know where the others are?” you find yourself asking as he makes his way to the other end of the hallway

He pauses at that, seemingly thinking of his next words carefully, “I checked door to door. Most of our neighbors got the hell out to go see their families when everything went to shit. A few…were sick and turned in their apartments so I had to…put them down.”

You cringed at his wording, you knew he was trying to phrase it delicately for you but you weren’t sure if you would have preferred him to just say he killed them. ‘Put them down’ made it sound like they were rabid dogs and not people you once knew and smiled at in the halls.

“Found some notes in some of them,” Simon said suddenly, waving you to follow him back to the apartment – to safety, “Guess we can only hope they made it to their families in one piece.”

“I hope so,” you muttered optimistically, slipping past him when he opened the front door for you.

You quickly realize how difficult it is to tell how much time is passing with Simon’s blackout curtains, which he refused to allow you to open for fear of attracting any unwanted attention. With there being no more news broadcasts or anything on TV, you didn’t even know the date anymore and you were too scared to ask for fear of knowing how long you’ve been living like this. Your food rations were slowly dwindling but neither of you talked about it.

You know you’re still waking up in the mornings and sleeping at night – Simon seems to run on an extremely specific schedule. When you asked him about it, he told you it was from the military, which made sense. Either way, you were grateful to him for helping you keep on track.

The water and power were both still on, but Simon kept telling you not to keep your hopes up about it lasting long.

You spent your days learning knife etiquette and practicing stabbing various targets that Simon made for you. You’ve grown much more confident. Of course, you would be no match for your teacher himself but against a bumbling walking corpse? You were sure you would be able to at least buy yourself time to escape if you needed.

Eventually, Simon decided it was time to move onto what you were most scared of – guns.

“I’m going to tell you a few things before I let you hold this,” he said, eyes hardened to show how serious he was as he held a pistol in his hands, “Are you paying attention?”

“Of course,” you breathe, wringing your hands in front of you as you eye the weapon.

“You can’t be scared of your weapons,” he advises, “You need to be confident and sure with every movement you make. It’s not a toy.”

“Hard not to be scared of it…” you confess, “What if I hurt someone with it or…I don’t know.”

“That’s why I’m teaching you all this,” he says, “You’ll get confident and less scared the more you handle them. We’re startin’ you off simple and you can build up to bigger and badder guns. For now…pistols will do.”

“Okay,” you swallow around the nervous lump in your throat, “Tell me what I need to know.”

“That’s the spirit,” he praises, holding the pistol up for you to see how he grips it, “First, never put your finger on the trigger unless you’re going to shoot. Just rest your finger on the side like this, see,” he turns his hand and lets you see the way he keeps his finger hovering beside the trigger rather than on it.

You nod your head, “Got it.”

“Take it,” he says, “Carefully.”

You stare at the offered weapon for just a moment before you reach out and delicately take it from his hands, “Next, never point it at anyone you don’t intend to shoot. Whether it’s loaded or not, keep it pointed away from people and yourself.”

You mimic his grip, grimacing when you realize it's actually much heavier than you thought it would be. It was definitely going to take practice before you built up the ability to hold it for long periods. You follow his instructions and keep it pointed to the ground – albeit awkwardly.

“Here,” he suddenly steps behind you.

You feel your heart catch in your chest when you feel him press against your back. He’s incredibly warm and firm as you lean against him. He carefully takes your hands in his, supporting your hands and holding the gun eye level.

“Just practice lining up your sight and lookin at a target,” he says.

His face is so close to yours, his voice right in your ear, deep and gravelly with that heavy accent. You struggle to process his words, hoping to god he doesn’t hear how fast your heart has started racing.

You close one eye and focus on aiming at a photo on his wall, a small picture frame. His large, gloved hands dwarf your own and you’re suddenly overwhelmed by the scent of him. He smells like cigarettes and the body wash you may have taken a quick whiff of when you used his shower for the first time. You find yourself wondering when he has time to smoke since you’ve never actually seen him do it.

Your mind is blank beyond anything other than him. How big and warm he is, how safe you feel with him wrapped around you, how good he smells and how much you love his voice as he utters tips and commands into your ear – sickly sweet in that way he always seems to talk to you.

If you focused too much on it, you’d slowly come to the realization that you may have a crush on him. But you quickly dash that thought from your head and focus back on his gun lesson as he teaches you how to eject a magazine with ease.

This is about survival. Neither of you have time to dwell on a silly crush.

A few days later, you’re standing in the eerie hallway with him. He had offered for you to just stay in the apartment and relax while he did the work but you honestly didn’t want to be alone so you opted to sit with him as he worked.

Your back was against the wall, sipping a cup of instant coffee you had made. Simon was silent as he worked on barricading the door to the stairwell. You both agreed that it was best if it was still accessible just in case something happened, but you didn’t want any unnecessary visitors making their way into the safe little haven you’ve both made for yourselves.

“We should think about looting the empty apartments,” you said suddenly, trying to keep your eyes off of his bulging biceps as he yanked on a strap that was attached to the doorknob to keep the door from being opened.

“That’s a good idea,” he grunted, stepping back to admire his handiwork when he finally finished testing its durability, “Let’s do it.”

He offered his hand and you smiled, taking it and letting him pull you to your feet. You brushed off imaginary dust in an effort to hide how flustered just holding his hand for that brief second made you.

You started at the other end of the hallway from your shared apartment. Simon displayed a disturbing aptitude for opening up very locked doors. You chose not to comment on it, instead silently being thankful that he was able to do it at all.

“How about we make a loot pile in the hallway so we can bring it all inside when we’re ready?” you suggest.

“Alright,” he responds, eyes scanning over the cabinets in the kitchen, “Food is our main priority but it wouldn’t hurt to have some medical supplies.”

You agreed and started helping him pick things out, filling your arms full of canned goods and pill bottles which you then deposited in the hallway by your apartment.

The two of you made it through a handful of apartments, securing a nice resource pile for the two of you. You were feeling good, hopeful, as you stared at your future right there in the silent hallway.

It wasn’t until you opened one in particular— it belonged to a shy, college kid, you remember— that it seems everything changes for you. He couldn’t have been but 18, away from home for the first time and living in his first apartment on his own.

Simon is busy looting the kitchen, you can hear him placing cans on the counter, consolidating whatever it is he chooses to bring with him. You check the bedroom, looking through the drawers and pocketing a bottle of aspirin and nausea medication before you move to the bathroom.

The second you push open the door, you’re met with the force of another person shoving into you. You cry out as you hit the ground, the person falling on top of you. You panic and scramble out from under them, their coughing and wheezing forcing you to look at them.

It’s the kid who lives there. He’s deathly pale, dark circles under his eyes which are bloodshot. His lips are crusty and dry, seemingly struggling with finding something to say.

“Pl-” he starts to whisper before you see movement in the corner of your eye.

“Simon, wait!” you cry when you see the knife.

But it’s too late, the hunting knife you had held with your own two hands more times than you could count, is embedded in the kids skull, spraying blood all over you. All you can do is make a pathetic squeak, fear and panic rendering you unable to say anything as you watch his now lifeless body flop onto the ground beside you, his still warm blood soaking into your clothes as it runs out of the gaping hole in his head.

“The fuck were you thinkin’?!” Simon suddenly shouts, storming over to you and yanking you to your feet roughly.

You stumble up, bumping into him as you stare at the dead body on the floor, “He..He was alive…I…”

“He was sick!” Simon snarls, roughly wrapping his hand around your throat, forcing you to look at him. There was a fire in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before, making you cower, “You’re lucky he didn’t bite you! Fuckin’ hell, are you stupid?!”

“H-He was talking, he was just sick, Simon!” you argued, tears filling your eyes as you stared up at him, “W-We could have given him medicine, could have–”

“He was a dead man walking,” he shouts, the volume making you flinch, “He was going to turn. Are you a fuckin’ idiot? Thinkin’ we could save him?”

The tears you were holding fell down your cheeks at his cruel words and you glared up at him, “I-I’m not stupid, I just…h-he talked to me!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Simon’s eyes narrow, “He was a threat. A liability. Don’t fuckin’ worry about him, worry about yourself.”

He releases you with a rough shove, taking out some of his anger on you. He continues to glare at you for a long minute before turning his back on you and stalking out of the room, muttering about how stupid it was that you could have killed yourself over some random kid.

Your eyes fall on said kid, no more blood coming from the wound, simply coagulating on the floor around him, “Y-You’re a monster.”

The words come out of your mouth before you can stop them, quiet and shaky. But Simon hears them clear, freezing on the other side of the doorway, in the hall.

“I’m a monster..?” he asks, voice suddenly eerily calm. He turns around, his large body taking up an obscene amount of the doorway. You can tell he’s intentionally trying to intimidate you, a punishment that makes your cheeks heat up in anger, “I’ve been breakin’ my back to keep your stupid ass alive and I’m a monster? Because I put down some fucker that was gonna turn rabid in a day?” he glares at you, squinting through the mask and drawing his dark eyebrows together, “You think it’s easy for me? I’m doin’ everything I can to keep you safe!” he shouts so loud that your ears ring and you flinch from the sound alone, “But if you can’t appreciate that then maybe you should be on your fuckin’ own and see how long it takes before you’re ripped apart by those feral bastards!”

He storms off at that, loudly slamming the front door, indicating his final exit from the apartment. You hastily wipe the tears from your cheeks only for more to replace them and you sniffle, casting a sorrowful glance at the dead kid before creeping out of the apartment yourself.

Simon is nowhere in the hall but the supplies you both gathered are still there.

You carefully open the door to Simon’s apartment and peek inside, finding it completely silent and still. You’re not sure where he went but you decide to busy yourself with loading all your looted items into the kitchen and sorting them all for when he returns.

You’re not sure how long you take to finish but Simon still isn’t back and you become worried.

He had said you should be on your own but surely he didn’t actually just leave the building, did he?

You wander over to his supplies and find a handful of his weapons gone. Your heart shoots into your throat and more tears prick at your eyes before you’re dashing out of the apartment once again.

The door to the stairwell is no longer held shut, indicating that Simon had, in fact, gone that way. You curse yourself. If you had checked sooner then he would have at least been somewhere close but if he really left, he would be long out of the building by now.

You creep towards the door and slowly push it open. You hadn’t even left the floor since before this whole thing started. It was eerily quiet, but if you listened close you could hear some muffled shuffling from somewhere.

You crept out, quickly realizing how dark it was. You pulled out your keychain which held a tiny flashlight that you used to navigate when it was dark in the apartment.

You crept down the stairs, holding your breath with every step until you finally reached the floor below you. You can hear muffled sounds from beyond the door and slowly push it open, flashing the light down the hallway.

It's too small and weak to penetrate the stifling darkness. The power was not on on this floor for some reason and that immediately set you on edge. You could still hear some shuffling and strange, raspy noises from within the darkness.

“Simon..?” you call into the impenetrable, oppressive darkness. The noises stop for a moment and you swallow around the nervous lump in your throat, “Simon?” you call again, louder.

The noises return, shuffling, heavy footsteps advance on you. You strain your eyes to see past the weak illumination that your flashlight provides. You’re breathing heavily, you realize, anxiety making your lungs feel constricted as the footsteps get closer and closer.

All of the sudden, a disgusting, rotted face appears in your sights, arms outstretched towards you. You scream out in unbridled terror as it grabs you, its bony, sickening fingers latching onto your shoulders. You attempt to push it away and run but you trip over your own two feet in your panic. Your flashlight flies out of sight, its dim illumination casting down the hallway, leaving you to push at the undead corpse as it collapses on top of you. Its weight is more than you thought it would be, leaving your arms trembling as you struggle to keep it from falling on top of you. It fights your resistance and chomps its disgusting teeth at your face, attempting to get a bite out of your flesh.

It reeks, you realize, like the smell of a dead animal you pass by on the street. It makes your stomach turn and you fear you’re going to throw up from the smell alone. The rotting skin of its chest slips and pulls away from the bone and muscle and you gag, tears coming to your eyes as you realize the very real and terrifying danger you’re in.

You have no way to get out of this.

As you look down the hall, where the light barely pierced the inky depths, you can see more figures emerging from further down the hall, shuffling and rasping in interest at your fight with the one on top of you.

Tears fall down your temples and a sob bursts from your chest as you slowly come to terms that this is how you’re going to die. You can’t hold the sheer weight of the undead above you for much longer.

“S-Simon…” you call out, weak and strained. You know even if he’s nearby he won’t hear you. You have to try harder, get your voice out, shout for him. You swallow around your tears and panic, taking a full breath before shouting, “Simon! Please! Simon, help me!”

You don’t even register the door opening behind you. But you do notice when the weight of the corpse is gone, a knife stabbing into its skull before a large hand grabs you by the back of the shirt and drags you back into the stairwell. The undead follow after you, slamming themselves against the door as soon as it slams closed.

You’re trembling and unable to blink or breathe as the shock of what just happened washes over you.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Simon all but screams, grabbing you by the front of your shirt, dragging you onto unsteady feet that can’t hold you up before slamming you against the wall. You can still hear those zombies slamming against the door. Your ears are ringing and you barely register Simon shouting at you.

He shakes you and it finally draws your attention to him. His eyes are wide, irises darting back and forth over your face. He doesn’t look nearly as angry as you would expect. Instead he looks…concerned. Scared.

“Simon…” you whisper, the tears not stopping as they fall down your cheeks. He’s the only thing holding you up right now, hands balled in the material of your shirt, keeping you pinned to the wall, “I-I was…I was looking for you…”

He’s panting, shoulders rising and falling as he struggles to compose himself, “Lookin’ for me?”

“Y-You said you were leaving and I…” you whimper, “I-I didn’t want you to go so…I went to find you…I didn’t think that…”

You see his jaw tense through his mask before he slowly lets go of your shirt. Your knees tremble under your own weight and your hands find purchase against his chest.

“Fuckin’ hell…” he mutters, stepping away from you with a heavy sigh, “Just don’t…do that again, got it?”

You nod your head, sniffling as you feel your tears slowly come to a stop, “Th-Thank you, Simon…for saving me…”

“Yeah,” he grunts, turning his back to you, storming back up the stairs to your floor.

You unsteadily follow behind him, still a shaky and anxious mess. When you get into the apartment, Simon is in the kitchen, barely sparing you a glance.

“Go take a shower,” he orders you.

You linger in the doorway for a moment, hoping that he’ll look at you even for a second. But he doesn’t and you hang your head, skulking off to take your shower with a heavy heart.

The night rolls around and Simon hasn’t said a word, putting you more on edge with each passing minute. He sits, manspreading on the couch with a glass of Kentucky bourbon in a glass, sipping on it and watching some old movie that he put on play. Usually, he asks you if you’d like to watch with him, but this time he didn’t and that just makes your heart ache even more.

“Simon…” you venture to ask, casting a glance at him. His hard gaze doesn’t move from the TV, “I-I want to apologize–”

“For what?” he asks, the first words he’s spoken to you in hours. They’re cold and make you wince.

“F-For what I said…” you mutter, tucking your legs underneath you as you turn to look at him, “I…I was mean. I know you’re doing all you can for me and it wasn’t fair of me to get angry at you…I was just…startled, I guess.”

“You were naive,” he snaps, finally looking at you with a harsh glare, “You had no fuckin’ idea what those monsters were and you almost got yourself killed because of it.”

“Y-You’re right…” you whisper, feeling the tears pricking your eyes for the millionth time that day, “I’m sorry, Simon.”

He doesn’t respond, simply throwing back his glass of bourbon, downing it all before he stands up, “Sleep on the couch.”

The last thing you hear from him is his bedroom door slamming shut. You lay down that night, quietly crying into the pillow until you finally fell back asleep.

“Wake up!” a barking voice is what draws you out of your slumber.

Still shaken up from yesterday’s previous events, you sit straight up, wild, fearful eyes looking around before your gaze falls upon Simon. He stands in front of the couch, dressed in full tactical gear. Even his balaclava is different, with a hard plate in the shape of a skull covering the front. He looks intimidating.

“Wh-What’re you doing?” you ask, turning yourself so your feet are on the floor.

“We’re trainin’, get up,” he commands and you have no choice but to follow.

You find yourself following him out of the apartment and into the dimly lit hallway. It’s eerily quiet as always and you feel more intimidated than ever standing before him in nothing but some flimsy pajamas while he wears full gear. Even his gaze is different through that skull mask, hard and cold, looking down at you like you’re insignificant.

It’s so different from before. He was so kind and patient with you before and you can tell that now he’s going to really train you.

“What’re we doing today..?” you timidly ask, wringing your hands in front of yourself.

“Escaping,” he responds.

“Escaping?” you parrot back dumbly.

His glare narrows down at you, “You’re going to try to get away from me and make it towards that exit.”

He points to the other end of the hallway, to the stairwell. You glance up at him, where he stands between you and your exit.

“Okay…” you lick your lips nervously, “Do you want me to just run past you?”

“For now,” he drawls. He sounds almost bored, hands wrapped around the straps of his tactical vest.

You take a deep breath and attempt to bolt past him but his reflexes are frighteningly fast. His arm shoots out before you even realize it, catching you around your middle and halting you immediately.

The air is punched out of your lungs from the force of his arms and you stumble back with a groan.

“You’re goin’ to have to do better than that,” he says, looking down his nose at you like you had offended him with your poor attempt.

You brace yourself again and attempt to run past him. This time, you attempt to fake him out and run in the other direction but it ends the same with his arm grappling around your middle and you still not any closer to the exit.

“Again!” he barks and you can’t help but wonder if this was how he was when he was training recruits in the military.

You try again and again to run past him, duck under his arm, avoid his reach – everything to no avail. After several attempts, you’re left panting and frustrated. Simon is still as cool as a cucumber, staring at you in pure boredom as he awaits your next move.

You run again, making rough contact with his arm once again. But this time you start fighting against his hold. You push with all your might, shoving at his arm and his side in an attempt to slip past him.

“There you go,” he says, though it sounds more condescending than proud, “Fight me.”

You slam your fist down over his arm, successfully knocking it out of the way and giving you a chance to bolt past him. You have a clear view of the stairwell door and you can almost taste the success.

But you’re stopped suddenly when a rough hand grabs the back of your shirt. You cry out in shock when he yanks you back towards him, carelessly tossing you to the floor. You hit the rough carpet harshly, the coarse material skinning your hands and knees and you cry out at the pain.

“Simon!” you chastise him, glaring up at him when he comes to stand in front of you, “That fucking hurt!”

“Oh, it hurt?” he sneers, squatting beside you, behemoth form still dwarfing your own as he gets down on your level, “It’s not supposed to feel good. This is training. You’re supposed to try and survive, not whine and cry because you fell on the floor.”

You sit on your burning knees and glare at him. He glares back at you, neither of you backing down.

“Get up,” he commands, standing up, “Go again.”

By the time he allowed the training to be called off, your body was sore and bruised from the amount of times you’d been thrown to the floor. Your knees burn and ache from where the skin had been rubbed off and you fight back tears as you watch the dried blood crust on your skin.

Simon is no more rough for wear than he was before – all your hitting, kicking, pushing, and biting hadn’t deterred him in the slightest. He wasn’t even winded.

Worse more, you hadn’t made it anywhere near the door.

You weren’t sure how Simon felt about it. If he was mad or disappointed, he didn’t say. As soon as you got into the apartment, he went about making dinner after ordering you to wash up.

When you got out of the shower, he tossed a first aid kit to you and silently sat down in the kitchen to eat.

Usually, you would sit with him but you found yourself deciding to eat on the couch by yourself. A sense of loneliness settled upon you that you hadn’t felt since before you had moved into this apartment with him and you find yourself hiding your tears in your food.

Once again, you’re sleeping on the couch. You wouldn’t have minded it if it didn’t feel so much like a punishment. You felt like a dog banished to sleep in the dog house and you can’t help but curl in on yourself at the cold, empty feeling that it causes.

The next morning follows much the same with Simon startling you awake with a barked order. Your body aches and your wounds sting with every movement you make as you drag yourself behind him to the hallway.

“Do we have to do this again today, Simon?” you ask hopelessly, “I’m really tired…”

“Do you think those undead freaks are going to care if you’re tired?” he snaps at you, arms crossed, making him appear even bigger than he already was, “You’re goin’ to learn how to escape from holds.”

“Simon…” you start to complain but a sharp look from him has the words dying on your tongue and you hand your head in defeat.

He’s no more gentle than he was yesterday with you, rough grips and manhandling you around to fit his needs. He barks in your ear, ordering what you need to do and when to break various holds that he has on your body.

He feels so much stronger and more powerful than those zombies had. At least they were mindless and slow. Simon was fast and smart.

“Put your hand under mine to break the hold!” he shouts, clearly frustrated the more you fuck up breaking his holds.

“Not like that! Are you daft?” he grits through clenched teeth, “You’re goin’ to fuckin wind up dead if you keep this up!”

You feel your heart rate speed up and you find yourself almost panicking under his completely oppressive energy. His shouting only sets you more on edge and the tears begin to prick at your eyes once again.

“None of those fuckin’ tears,” he snarls, tightening his hold on you when you squirm and attempt to rid his body weight off of yours, “Do what I told you! You can break the hold if you just fuckin’ focus!”

“Simon, I-I don’t want to do this anymore!” you cry, the tears tumbling down your cheeks as you cry out the words. Your cheeks feel hot and you can barely catch your breath as you weakly punch at his chest.

“There’s no tappin’ out,” he snaps, tightening his grip on you even more. Your body aches where he holds and you know you’re going to be feeling those bruises for days to come.

“Simon!” you practically screech, freeing one hand and harshly slamming your fist down over the hard faceplate.

It seems to startle him enough into loosening his hold and you manage to kick back away from him in your panic, foot hitting him square in the chest in an effort to propel yourself away – putting as much distance as fast as you can between the two of you.

“Simon…” you whimper, voice wobbling, “I am not one of your soldiers. You need to stop trying to train me like I am!”

You watch him adjust his jaw through his mask before he pops his neck. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you and every hair on your body stands up in pure fear.

He’s on top of you before you even have the chance to say another word. You cry out when the force of his body forces you back and your head cracks harshly against the floor. Your vision blacks out from the force and you groan in pain but he doesn’t stop, a rough forearm pinning against your throat, cutting off your air.

“That was good,” he says, voice cold and devoid of any emotion, “You managed to escape, now do it again!”

Your hands push weakly against him, but you’re worn out and your head is starting to hurt like hell. You open your mouth to say something but his hold on your throat ceases any words from escaping.

You reach up to his face and his cold gaze narrows at you, “You already tried that. It won’t work again.”

But instead of hitting him, your fingers wrap around the face plate and you attempt to push it off – hoping that it’ll obscure his vision enough but he shakes you off with ease.

He catches your gaze and what he sees gives him pause. Wide, teary eyes, red rimmed and filled to the brim with fear. Tears wet your cheeks and he finally notices the way your entire body is tense and trembling beneath him.

“P-Please,” you finally find your voice when his weight eases a bit off of your throat, “I-I don’t want to do this anymore, Simon, please.”

That has his own eyes widening and you take his slackened hold as an opportunity to run away. He watches you scramble up from your spot on the floor and stumble back to the apartment, disappearing within with a slam that makes him flinch. He looks down at his own hands and finds that he can’t conjure up any thoughts that aren’t about you.

You hear him enter the apartment, his heavy footfalls pacing around the living room. You’re hiding in the bathroom, leaning against the door with your knees against your chest to muffle your cries.

He enters the bedroom and pauses, no doubt looking for you before he approaches the bathroom and you feel a brief ping of fear that he’s going to open the door but instead he softly knocks.

“Will you come out so we can talk?” he asks, voice holding none of the cold, harshness that it had for the last few days.

“G-Go away, Simon,” you sniffle.

You can hear him sigh before he follows your request and steps away from the door. You can hear him linger in the bedroom for several more minutes, kicking his boots off before he’s quietly closing the bedroom door and leaving.

The silence and loneliness sinks in once more and you find yourself sobbing into your knees all over again. Your head kills and you feel almost nauseous through your cries from the headache but you can’t stop yourself.

You have no idea how long you cry for but before you know it, the bedroom door opens once again and you can hear the floorboards creak under his weight as he approaches the bathroom door once again.

“I made something for you to eat,” he says through the door, “Figured you might be hungry.” At the idea of food, your stomach growls, “It’ll be waiting for you at the table when you want it.”

You listen to him walk away and you know this is his way of luring you out of the bathroom. Part of you desperately wants to spite him for being so mean to you and refuse his food but the growling in your stomach is too much to bear and you can’t help but clamber to your feet and quietly pull the door open.

When you reach the living room, Simon is facing the TV, giving no indication that he realizes you’ve come out of your hiding place. You sneak into the kitchen to see a bowl of soup sitting nicely at an empty spot. You take a seat and quickly devour the entire bowl, barely taking a break to breathe before it’s completely empty.

You place it in the sink and carefully sneak back out of the kitchen, intending to slide right past him but in your haste you fail to notice that he’s no longer sitting on the couch. Instead, you come face to face with him sitting at the foot of his bed, clearly waiting for you.

You freeze when you see him and all too soon that headache comes racing back to the forefront of your mind.

Simon’s no longer wearing the skull plate and instead wears his usual black balaclava with the skull print on it. He wears a t-shirt and sweatpants, obviously having let himself get comfortable while you hid in the bathroom earlier.

He looks up at you the second you step into the room and the two of you halt in a stalemate, simply staring at one another while you wait for the other to make the first move.

You’re the first to break eye contact when a heavy throb goes through your head, making you close your eyes and bring your hand to your head until it passes. You hear the bed creak when Simon stands up before his hands are cupping your cheeks.

“You hit your head, didn’t you?” he asks, soft and gentle.

You can’t stop yourself from glaring and snapping, “No thanks to you.”

His gaze softens as his hand finds its way to the back of your head, ever so softly prodding at the sizable bump that’s there, “I’m sorry, love.”

“If you’re sorry then why did you do it?” you find those damned tears returning all over again as you continue to glare up at him, “I told you I didn’t like it and I wanted to stop.”

“I know…” he whispers, hands once again cupping your cheeks, thumbing your tears away.

“What was your problem, Simon?” you tearfully ask, sniffling pathetically, “You hurt me. You were scary – scarier than those stupid zombies downstairs. Why did you do that?”

“I got…I was…” he struggled to find the right words before he stepped away from you with a troubled expression, “I was angry— scared. I just—I don’t know.”

“You were scared?” you scoff, “I’m the one who got attacked.”

“You think that wasn’t scary for me?” he asks in disbelief, “You almost got eaten alive on my watch.”

“You sure have a funny way of showing it,” you sniffle, angrily storming over to the bed, letting yourself flop down on the comfortable mattress for the first time in days.

“I know,” he whispers, “Just let me explain, okay?”

You lay there silently, listening to his weight shift where he stands. You take notice of how his scent lingers much more on the blankets now that he’s slept on it. It smells good, you note, musky and delicate. He doesn’t wear anything that smells particularly overpowering.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, “Ever since this shit happened, I’ve been driving myself crazy. I lost contact with my team, my friends. I’m not able to get anymore information on what's goin’ on outside. I’m worried about you, I’m trying my hardest to make sure you can go out there and survive on your own if you need to. I feel like I’m going crazy and I’m scared because I’ve never felt this out of control before.”

You sit up and turn to face him, “How long have you been feeling like this, Simon..?”

“A while,” he mutters, turning his back on you when your gaze starts to feel like too much, “And then you called me a monster and I just…” he trails off, seemingly unsure of how to explain his feelings properly.

“I’m sorry for that, Simon,” you mutter sincerely, reaching out to grab his arm, urging him to turn around, “I never should have said that. And I didn’t mean it, really.”

“Well, you were right, weren’t you?” he scoffs, “I am a monster. Fuck, look at what I did to you – how I treated you. I was punishing you and I never should have.”

“We both made mistakes,” you compromise with a wobbly smile, “We’re dealing with a lot, right? The fucking world is ending and we’ve been trapped in this godforsaken building for who knows how long. It’ll get easier.”

He stares at you for a long moment, lashes fluttering as his gaze softens. You can’t find it in yourself to break eye contact. After a long moment, he seems to decide on something before reaching up and yanking the mask covering his face off.

You feel your breath halt in your chest as your eyes widen, taking in every inch of his newly revealed face. His soft, brown eyes are a juxtaposition to the rest of his ruggedly handsome face. You stand up, never letting your eyes stray from him, a feeling of pure awe coming over you.

“You’re so handsome, Si,” you whisper, reaching forward to brush your fingers over a scar that cuts through his eyebrow to his eyelid, “It’s nice to finally see you.”

“I wanted you to see the real me,” he whispers, “Not the asshole soldier I was.”

“I’m glad you’ve trusted me with this,” you let your fingers wander along his skin, feeling the stubble on his jaw that he hadn’t yet shaved.

“I need to tell you,” he sounds breathy, reaching up and catching your hand in his, pressing your palm flat against his cheek, “I was so scared when I heard you callin’ for me. I thought I was goin’ to be too late and I’d watch you die. I was terrified that I would lose you.”

“Simon…” you whisper in awe, watching how his soft, brown eyes display every tumultuous emotion that he experiences, “I’m sorry. I won’t do anything to worry you again.”

“I want you by my side for as long as you’re able,” he whispers, throat moving as he swallows.

“I won’t go anywhere,” you agree, stepping closer to him, “I promise.”

He leans in at the same time as you, meeting you for a sweet, tender kiss. It lasts only a second before you’re both pulling back to look in each other's eyes. Then, you’re both surging forward for a hungry, heated kiss.

His hands grip your waist, squeezing there as he deepens the kiss. You whimper under his touch, standing on your tip-toes to match the intensity of his kiss.

He moves you backwards, your knees hitting the edge of the bed, causing you to topple down. Simon follows, catching himself on his hands on either side of your head. He only breaks the kiss for a moment to move you further up the bed, easily manhandling you so your head is in the pillows before he’s kissing you all over again.

His hands are rough as they travel over your body, slipping your shirt up just enough to let him touch your bare sides. You quickly realize you’re still wearing your sleep clothes and that you don’t have a bra on.

Clearly, Simon was aware because his hand quickly cups your bare breast with a rough, callused hand. His thumb finds your nipple, flicking over the bud as you whine into his mouth.

He pulls back suddenly, cheeks flushed before he’s fumbling with the hem of your shirt.

“Arms up, sweetheart,” he coos, sickly sweet.

You follow his orders and eagerly lift your arms up for him to tug the fabric of your shirt over your head. Once your breasts are bared to him, he’s leaning down to wrap his lips around one perked nipple while his fingers busy themselves with the other.

You cry out at the feeling of his teeth nipping at the sensitive bud, hands tangling in his soft, curly hair. He groans against your breast at the feeling of your pulling at his hair before he pulls back just a bit, breathlessly whispering, “Such perfect tits.”

“Simon…” you whimper, letting yourself relax into the bed as he switches to mouth at your other nipple, leaving the other to harden in the cool air before his hand travels down your stomach to your shorts, easily slipping underneath the fabric.

“Simon!” you call out again when you feel the heat of his hand cup your folds through your panties.

“Shh, just let me do the work, love,” he mumbled, muffled by the fact he refuses to part from suckling on your nipple.

His tongue drags over your breast, nipping and sucking marks into your skin. As he works the muscle, his hand in your panties remains stationary, just letting you feel the heat of it against your core. The teasing presence only makes you pulse and drool into your panties. You’re positive the fabric must be sticking to you by now from how wet you’ve become from playing with your breasts.

“Your tits are so sensitive,” he mumbles, almost to himself, “Does it feel good, darlin’?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, arching your back to offer up your chest to him all over again.

He grins, a crooked little smile that makes your heart flutter. It was so nice to finally see him smile.

But instead of mouthing at your breasts again, he leans back on his heels and pulls his hand from your panties. You whine at the loss but it’s cut short when he hooks his fingers into them and tugs them down your legs. You lift your hips to assist him but find yourself wincing when an ache goes through your body.

He notices and gently runs the palm of his hands up your thighs, urging you to relax.

“You sore, love?” he asks, voice filled with what you can only call guilt.

“A little…” you admit, biting your lip, “My thighs are killing me, actually.”

He shakes his head at himself and leans down, pressing a kiss next to the scrape on one of your knees as his hands slowly begin to knead the sore muscles in your thighs. You sigh and let your eyes flutter at the feeling.

With your eyes closed, you don’t realize he leans down until you feel a hot, wet tongue slide from your pubic bone to your sternum. Your cunt clenches pathetically at the feeling. When you open your eyes, Simon’s pretty, brown eyes are half-lidded and his tongue hangs out of his mouth. You can’t resist cupping the back of his head and pulling him for a kiss, whimpering and moaning against his mouth.

“Fingers or tongue?” he asks, muffled and messy against your lips.

“What?” your hazy mind can’t quite comprehend what he’s asking of you.

“Do you want my fingers or my tongue?” he reiterates, “I want to make you cum.”

You whimper at that, “B-Both!”

He scoffs, full brows furrowing, “Greedy.”

You find yourself blushing at that but he doesn’t deny your request. He sinks down your body, peppering kisses down your body on the way until he kneels on the floor at the foot of the bed.

He grabs your hips and effortlessly yanks you down so your legs hang off the edge of the bed.

He spreads your thighs apart and you find yourself holding your breath, watching through your lashes as he trails kisses up your thigh, getting closer to where you want him the most. You’re trembling under his attention and it makes you clench pathetically around absolutely nothing. You’re sure he can see the way your cunt drools and leaks with every small kiss he peppers against your skin.

Just when he gets close, he pulls back and kisses back down towards your knee. The teasing has you wound taut, feeling as if you’re almost on the edge without him ever properly touching you.

It feels like hours that he does it, kissing up and down your thighs. Occasionally, he nips at the skin there, swirling his tongue over the burning marks he leaves behind to soothe the sting. Finally, he moves his hand and you think he’s going to finally give you something but all he does is spread your folds apart with two fingers, exposing your hole and clit to the cool bedroom air. The action makes you whine but he pays you no mind.

He carries on kissing your thighs and nipping at your skin. No matter how much you rut your hips, hoping to entice him into touching you and giving you what you really need, he ignores it. He ignores your whines and the cries of his name, ignores the way your cunt clenches and drools around nothing, clit twitching from how much teasing you’re enduring.

The little bud aches, throbbing as it begs for anything – any little touch that he has to offer. He could blow air upon the nub right now and you’re sure you would explode in pure pleasure.

When you sob his name, broken and needier than you’ve ever heard yourself, he finally looks up. His eyelids are heavy, concealing half of his iris and it makes him look positively fucked out.

“Look at me,” he commands, licking his lips slowly, “Right in the eyes, let me see you properly.”

You force yourself to meet his penetrating gaze, almost struggling to compose yourself. You find yourself trapped in the eye contact, almost paralyzed under his intoxicating gaze. He holds you there for what feels like minutes but in reality is probably just a few seconds.

His fingers finally hone in on your clit, pressing against the twitching, hardened bud. You cum immediately, still locked in that intoxicating eye contact. You cry out, hands slapping against the bed as he draws the orgasm out of you with slow circles on the little bud, sticky clicking sounds filling the room and mixing with your wild cries of pleasure. It seems like the high never stops, more and more cum gushing from your cunt and dripping down to stain the comforter beneath you.

Simon watches you with keen attention, taking in every expression you make as he makes you cum against his fingers, the bud throbbing wildly until the orgasm finally dissipates.

When you finally sag against the bed, your thighs fall completely open as the post-orgasm exhaustion quickly hits. You’re left trembling and twitching through the aftershocks, pretty pussy still drooling with every clench of your walls.

Simon takes the opportunity of you coming down to strip himself. He tugs his shirt off over his head and lets his sweatpants drop the floor, carelessly kicking them away. His gaze never leaves you, never leaves that twitching little cunt between your legs.

There’s a slick film of your cum coating your folds and his mouth fucking waters.

Your eyes fly open, not even realizing that you had closed them, when he suddenly cups the back of your thighs and pins you wide open for him.

“Simon…” you pathetically coo, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair when he comes within reach.

“So sweet for me,” he coos, kissing your thigh once again and you’re scared that he’s going to tease you all over again, “A good orgasm got you nice and sweet, huh?”

“Mhm,” you mutter, dazedly looking at him as you feel his breath on your sensitive cunt.

That alone makes you clench around nothing. You nearly whimper out loud when you see his tongue fall from his mouth, glistening with spit before he licks a slow, wide stripe between your folds.

When he comes back up, he holds his tongue out and lets you see the creamy mess of your cum left behind. He makes a show of swallowing every drop in his mouth, making your cheeks flush in pure embarrassment at such a lewd display.

You had no idea Simon would be so fucking filthy in bed but the way his eyes roll back at your taste tells you all that you need to know.

He loudly slurps your clit between his lips, swirling his tongue around the sloppy bud as he whines and groans into your cunt. You tug harshly at his hair at the overwhelming feeling of having your clit doted on so expertly.

His hands keep you pinned open, allowing him to slip his tongue inside you, occasionally taking a moment to visibly swallow every drop of your slick so you can see the way he absolutely savors your taste.

He swirls that offending tongue around your clit again, slurping it back into his mouth before two fingers are prodding at your entrance. You clench against him, the excitement of finally being filled with something making you whimper. Just the sound of you so eager makes him almost want to cum completely untouched.

Your cum generously coats his face and he absolutely loves it. He pulls away suddenly, dark eyes locking onto your face as he pants from how lost he was in eating you out. He slowly presses two fingers inside you, letting them slide in, hugged by the plushness of your walls.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, love,” he coos, moaning sympathetically when you cry out from the feeling of being stretched on his fingers, “And so warm too, fuck.”

He decides, in that moment, that he doesn’t care if the world is ending outside, he feels nothing but bliss with you. He never wants this to end, he wants to get completely lost in the pure intoxication of you.

He leans down, flattening his tongue against your clit once again. The feeling is heightened now that he’s got his thick fingers stuffed inside you. You clench around him at the feeling of his tongue on the sensitive bud once more.

He suddenly crooks his fingers and your legs helplessly kick in the air at the overwhelming feeling of him pressing and prodding against that gooey little spot inside you. Your hips rabbit up and you practically wail at the overwhelming sensations he’s attacking you with. You squeal his name so sweetly before he finally backs off a bit, letting you sink back into the soft cushions of the bed.

He’s completely drunk off of you, off the creamy cum you gush out for him to lick up, off the lovely sounds you let out from how good he makes you feel. His cock is so painfully hard and he wants so badly to wrap his hand around himself but he knows he’ll blow his load the second he does, so he refrains.

To distract himself from the ache in his cock, he doubles his focus on you and making you feel good. His fingers crook upwards again, prodding your g-spot again with renewed vigor. You cry out, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when he sucks your clit into his mouth, the suction making your thighs tremble.

“I-I wanna cum!” you cry out, fingers still tugging harshly at his hair.

He groans against you but doesn’t dare to part from you, too focused on bringing you to your high to actually goad you into it. His fingers move inside you, fucking you nice and deep, making sure he’s working that sweet little spot inside you as he continues to suck on your clit.

It doesn’t take long before your entire body stiffens and you toss your head back. The choked out cry is music to his ears and his own eyes roll back when he feels the way your walls tighten around him, soaking his fingers generously. Your clit throbs in his mouth before he releases his suction on it, instead choosing to lick the pulsing little bud with the flat of his tongue to gently ease you through the high.

You’re pushing his head away long before he’s ready to part but he willingly backs off nonetheless. His chin is wet with your cum, even dripping down his neck and the sight makes you flush. There’s a loud, squishy noise when he slowly pulls his fingers from the hot clutch of your cunt.

“Scoot back for me, darlin’,” he commands you, slurring a little before he pops his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean of the mess you left behind.

You do as he says, shakily pushing yourself back so you can lay your head in the pillows. With Simon standing at the foot of the bed, you finally get the chance to take a look at him.

He’s obviously incredibly well built, broad and firm in all the right places. Most notably, he has numerous scars, some that looked like bullet wounds and others that were long and thin.

“Are all those from the military?” you find yourself asking as he carefully crawls onto the bed, jostling you as the mattress moves under his weight.

“Yeah,” he breathes, leaning down to press his lips against yours.

You let him handle your body as he pleases, spreading your legs so he can comfortably situate himself between them. His cock, hard and heavy, rests against your folds and you find your eyes going wide at the sight of it.

“Somethin’ the matter?” he chuckles, like he can hear what you’re thinking.

“That’s not going to fit,” you breathe, unable to tear your gaze off the twitching, fat length of him.

“‘Course it will, love,” he breathes, pecking your lips again, letting his lips trail down over your jaw, “I worked you open real good, all you gotta do is relax and let me in.”

With a minute adjustment of his hips, the tip prods your entrance. He grips the base of his length, carefully pushing forward, mouth dropping open as he feels your hot, wet walls spread around the head of him.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he grunts, “Jus’ let me do the work.”

Your hands fly down to grip his forearms, nails biting harder into the skin there the deeper he sinks into you. The middle of his cock is the fattest, giving you an almost painful stretch that makes your face pinch up in a way that Simon doesn’t like.

He brings one hand to his mouth, licking his thumb before carefully pressing the digit against that sensitive bud. You whimper at the feeling, cunt clutching tight around him, easing more of his length inside. He circles your clit a few more times, watching your face for any clear signs of discomfort. Before long, his hips meet yours, filling you absolutely full to the brim in a way no one ever had before.

He plants both hands on either side of your head, abandoning your clit in favor of simply rutting his hips against yours. His large body hovers over you, shielding you from anything outside of him and you find yourself completely lost in everything that is him – how full he makes you feel, how nice he smells, how safe you feel trapped beneath him like you are.

Your hands wind around his neck, pulling him down so his chest presses against yours. Your breasts squish against his chest and he finds his eyes flickering down just to look at them. The sight makes you smile despite yourself – it’s cute, you think.

Tangling your fingers in his soft curls once again, you bring him down for a kiss. He’s still slowly, carefully rutting his hips against yours, his lower abdomen sliding against your clit as his cock stirs inside you, stretching you and hitting every sweet little spot inside you.

You whimper into his mouth, gasping at the way he makes you feel so full and good while he barely does anything. Your knees bracket against his ribs, squeezing him so tightly you wonder if it hurts but he just continues to kiss you and circle his hips.

“Wanna feel you cum around me,” he whispers, barely parting from your lips to request it, “Just like this, cover my cock. Be good for me.”

You knew you wouldn’t be able to disobey even if you wanted to. With the way he stirs you up and drags against every tender spot inside you all while grinding against your clit the way he is, you don’t stand a chance. Your third orgasm creeps up on you and your back arches just as it washes over you.

Simon groans at the feeling of you cumming around him for the first time – the tight, wet clutch of your cunt feeling better than he ever could have dreamed. As he watches you writhe in his bed, moaning and whimpering his name, he’s overcome with a plethora of feelings that just melt his heart.

He can’t resist pulling you in for another kiss, cupping your jaw as he pulls his hips back until just the head of his cock remains buried in your cunt. You’re still working on coming down from the orgasm he just gave you but he’s greedy – he wants to feel it again. He wants to fuck the orgasm out of you, make you ride it out and gush all over him.

He needs to show you how good he can be for you, hoping that this alone can get across just how much you mean to him. He’s never been the best with words, so he can only hope that this is enough for now.

Your hands press against his chest, aimlessly pushing at him from the overwhelming way he fucks you. You’re so sensitive, pushed into cumming more times than anyone had ever made you before. But he doesn’t show any signs of slowing or stopping. He’s a machine, built for stamina and he’s on a fucking mission now – to make you feel as good as he possibly can.

You’re attempting to push him away, to give your poor, overstimulated body a chance to come down. But he’s having none of it.

“Hands off, love,” he commands breathlessly. But you just stare up at him with dazed, teary eyes, panting and sweaty. He clicks his tongue, “You ignorin’ me, sweetheart?”

He grapples your wrists in his one hand, pulling yours away from his chest and pinning them above your head. He uses this new hold as leverage to really fuck you, pulling back and sinking back in as deep as he possibly can. His tip kisses your cervix, making your thighs tense up at the twinge of pain that comes with having him so deep.

But the pain mixes so addictively with the pleasure that you find yourself getting completely lost in the slow, deep rhythm that he sets. Every time he sinks balls deep, his hips slap against yours and he rubs up deliciously against your clit. The pleasure on your bud doesn’t last long before he’s pulling back again, never allowing you to fully build up to another delicious high.

Simon is lost in the way you whimper and whine. He can swear that he’s never heard anything as incredible as you being denied the pleasure he had been so generous with so far. He likes the desperate look in your eyes; it makes him feel amazing to know that you need him to make you feel good. He’s in charge of your pleasure in that moment and he finds himself relishing in that feeling of control over you.

You look so sweet beneath him, pinned and helpless with teary eyes looking up at him. Your pupils are blown wide from the pleasure his cock brings you as he continues to fuck you nice and deep.

Usually, Simon is a fast and rough kind of guy, but he finds himself thinking that he could definitely get used to a pace like this more often. As long as it’s you that’s underneath him.

It doesn’t take you very long to break, those pretty tears falling down your cheeks as you breathlessly plead with him, “Please, Simon,” your voice cracks so cutely, “I want more!”

He chuckles under his breath and leans down, pressing a tender kiss against your temple before whispering, “What’s stoppin’ you from takin’ more?”

That seems to set you off. You’re bracing your feet on the bed, rutting your hips, rocking yourself against his cock. A moan rips from his chest at the sight of you using his cock like that. His heavy balls press against you and the feeling makes his cock throb, making him realize how badly he needs to cum. But he doesn’t want to give up this little show you’re putting on for him so soon.

You’re so, so wet that he can feel how your messy little cunt squishes around him. You shamelessly soak every inch of him the more you work your own pussy on his fat cock. You tug your hands free from his grip and he’s left clenching the pillows in his fist when he watches your fingers descend.

He thinks you’re going to go for your clit, to push yourself over the edge like you so deserved for being so good for him. But instead, you reach for your own tits. The breath punches out of his lungs as the sight of you meanly pinching and tweaking your nipples as you continue to rock yourself against him.

Simon feels his balls tighten at the sight and he almost thinks he’s going to cum but he suddenly pulls his cock out. You wail in complete misery at the loss, tearfully watching him wrap his hand around the base of his cock, pinching off the impending orgasm.

You flop back down onto the bed, sniffling pathetically as you glare at him for ruining the orgasm you were so beautifully working yourself up to. He smiles crookedly at you, cupping the backs of your knees, crudely pinning them to your chest so your pretty, wet cunt is open and vulnerable to the way he suddenly stuffs himself back inside.

With you completely pinned beneath him in a press, you can’t do anything except cry out and wail in pleasure as he finally fucks you fast and hard. His balls slap lewdly against your ass, your arousal dripping off of them.

His eyes are locked on the way you’re stretched so wide around the girth of him. You’re creaming around him, a milky ring left in your wake every time he pulls out. He doesn’t give you much chance to breathe or collect yours, simply fucking you with everything he has. It’s loud, wet, and fucking messy.

“F-Fuck,” he chokes on the word, voice breaking as it comes out. He’s so close that it hurts, “Play with yourself for me, love, rub your clit.”

Your hand flies down to do as you’re told without a second thought. It only takes a few, quick circles around the hard little bud before you’re cumming with a cute little squeal. Your feet kick helplessly in the air, toes curling from how hard you cum around him.

Simon groans at the sight and feeling of you losing yourself on his cock. You continue to swirl and tap at your clit, forcing yourself to cum harder and harder until you’re squirting around him with a choked off sob of his name.

Simon’s hips never still or falter, fucking you fast and deep to work you through the orgasm. Your cum splatters across his hips, thighs, and chest. It makes his eyes roll up into his head before he lets his head fall back. His jaw opens and he moans, loud and deep as his own orgasm finally washes over him.

His pace falters as you lay there twitching and crying, a few trembling thrusts of his hips as his cock spits rope after rope of cum inside you. He cums longer and harder than he has in a very long time. He continues with short, aborted little thrusts on his sensitive cock as he continues to cum.

Even when the orgasm dissipates, he finds himself fucking into the creamy mess drooling out of your twitching cunt.

“S-Simon-!” you choke out, nails clawing down his shoulders, “S-Sensitive!”

“I know, love,” he pants, almost deliriously, “J-Just one more. G-Gotta fill you up again.”

You can’t do anything but lay back and let him use your cunt as he works to force another orgasm out of his overstimulated cock. He’s gasping and whining as he moves his hips, pulling his cock out only to stuff it back inside. A mixture of your cum and his drips down, soaking his cock, pelvis, and balls. It’s a heady, lewd mess that he can’t bring himself to worry about now but he knows it’ll be a pain to clean up later.

You’re trembling and twitching with every one of his movements, tears dried and new on your cheeks. He feels a pang of remorse for you, you’re tired and overstimulated but he just needs to wring this one last orgasm out and then he’ll let you rest.

“You can be good for me, huh?” he coos sweetly, “Just be sweet and let me, fuck, use this pretty little cunt, yeah?”

“Y-Yeah,” you whimper, nodding your head as your eyelids flutter in exhaustion.

Simon leans down, pressing his lips against yours. You both get lost in the kiss, with your arms wrapped around his neck. He loves how it feels to have you stuffed on his cock while your pretty, sweet body twitches and trembles beneath him. He knows it probably hurts by now and the fact you’re just laying there and letting him use you like this has him reaching his second high.

He chokes on a moan, gasping as he cums for the final time. It’s much more lackluster than his first one but he still fills you up just like you both needed. His cock twitches almost painfully inside you as he slowly rocks his hips, wincing at the overstimulation.

After a few, still moments, he pulls his length free from the soft plushness of your cunt and rolls off of you. You’re both panting, laying on your backs on the bed as you come back to yourselves.

You’re the first one to move, rolling onto your side and wrapping yourself around him. Simon finds himself smiling when he feels the sweet way you snuggle against him, seeking his comfort automatically.

You start shivering, the mess of cum and sweat on your body causing you to become cold. He urges you to sit up despite your protests.

“Let’s take a shower and sleep,” he offers sweetly, supporting your shaky body to the bathroom.

He continues to support you and hold you close through the shower. He finds himself grateful that there’s still hot water because you both certainly need it after such a messy tryst in his bed.

You’re the first to fall asleep, tucked against his chest with your arms wrapped around him like a little koala. His hand strokes up and down your back, just staring into the inky blackness of his bedroom.

Part of him feels like it’s all a dream, to have someone so sweet tucked against him, offering him comfort and feeling safe as they snooze peacefully. A sense of fierce protectiveness washes over him as he finds himself going through plans in his head – what the future may hold.

He��s torn from his thoughts when you shoot up from your deep sleep with a gasp. Your head wildly turns, looking around the room. His hand finds purchase on your back, making you jump before relaxing immediately in recognition.

“Bad dream?” he asks, tugging you gently to lay you back down against his chest.

“Yeah,” you whisper, “I dreamt that I was trapped with them in that hallway again.”

He hums, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, wrapping his arms tightly around you to make sure you feel secure. You go still for a long time and he thinks you fell asleep again but then you ask him a question that surprises him.

“Who are those people in the photos?” you quietly question, “In your living room.”

He hums, rubbing a rough hand up and down your shoulder and arm, “My teammates. Friends, I guess.”

“You guess?” you chuckle.

“Yeah,” he breathes, “Task Force 141; Captain John Price, and Seargets John ‘Soap’ MacTavish and Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick.”

“Soap is a silly name,” you comment, grinning up at him, resting your chin against his chest, “What about you?”

“Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley,” he responds with ease.

“Do you know where they are?” you ask.

It’s an innocent question but it sends a pang of hurt to his chest. If he were a weaker, less trained man, he may have felt tears pricking his eyes, “I don’t know,” he pauses for a moment before continuing, “I was in contact with Soap when everything started goin’ to shit. Lost contact with him though. He’s a tough bastard though, I’m sure he’s fine somewhere out there. I don’t know where the other two were or are.”

“If they’re even half as good as you, I’m sure they’re all fine,” you offer optimistically.

Simon hums again, reaching a hand up to brush a stray flyaway off of your forehead. His big hand cups your cheek, stroking his thumb over your lips which you offer a gentle kiss against.

“All I’m worried about now is you,” he confesses softly, “As long as you’re safe, I’ll be happy. I’ll do anything to make sure you’re okay.”

“I am,” you smile, laying back down to nuzzle against his chest, “I’m okay as long as you’re here.”

He wraps his arms around you again and closes his eyes, letting himself sleep peacefully with you held safe against him.

It’s not even a week later that you’re sitting on the couch with him, peacefully watching a movie with a full belly after cooking a quick dinner with him, that you hear a loud, mechanical thump and you’re plunged into complete silence and darkness. Your heart jumps and races in your chest, mindlessly grappling onto Simon’s arm as he sits still beside you.

“What happened?” you ask, whispering as if you’re scared to speak any louder.

“Power went out,” he responds, not sounding the least bit perturbed, “Knew it was comin’. Water’s probably out now too.”

“What do we do?” you ask, the tremor of fear in your voice practically breaking his heart.

He stands up and you whimper in fear when he’s out of your reach. You can hear him moving around in the dark before a bright, blinding light lands on you.

“We can’t stay here for much longer,” he responds, “We’ll have to move out and find somewhere with more resources.”

“How long have you been planning this?” you ask, getting to your feet to follow him down the hall to the bedroom.

“Ever since the news stopped reportin’,” he responds, grabbing a large backpack from the closet, “Let’s pack up.”

You linger beside him and he looks at you with a raised brow, “I’m scared, Simon.”

His gaze softens and he walks up to you, cupping your cheeks tenderly, “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promises, “We’re goin’ to go out, find a small place to hunker down. We’ll look for a generator or a vehicle and get somewhere safe. You trust me, don’t you?”

You nod your head, “Of course I do.”

“Good,” he smiles, kissing your forehead, “Now take this backpack and fill it with what’s left of our canned food, alright? I’m goin’ to pack everything else we need, don’t worry about a thing.”

He offers you a flashlight, which you gratefully take and click on. You’re glad that he gives you an easy task to focus on. You take the smaller backpack he offers you and make your way to the kitchen. You only have about 5 cans of food left and you carefully place them inside the bag before opening the refrigerator to pack a few full bottles of water that you have stored in there. You make sure to toss in a can opener just in case before you place the backpack on the couch.

Simon emerges from the room with the large, military backpack slung over his shoulder.

“You get it all?” he asks, taking a seat to shove his boots onto his feet.

“Yeah and a couple water bottles,” you respond, approaching him slowly.

“That’s perfect,” he praises, looking over at you, “You should go get dressed. Jeans and a hoodie. Put your sneakers on and make sure they’re tight, got it?”

You nervously do as you’re told, disappearing into the bedroom to quickly dress yourself under the flashlight. You can hear Simon moving around in the living room, heavy boots thumping against the floor with every step he takes.

You toss the hoodie over your head and make your way back to Simon, who stands in the living room, looking out the window. The sun is just beginning to come up over the horizon, casting a dim amount of sunlight to come through.

He turns to look at you when he hears you approach.

“There you go,” he hums, pulling the hoodie up over your head and tightening the strings, “Keep your neck covered. We’ll find you some better clothing somewhere along the way.”

You nod your head and take a glance over his shoulder out the window. You can barely see the ground from your position but you can see people shuffling around on the streets below. A pang of fear goes through you as you realize that they’re most definitely not normal people – the streets are crawling with those undead freaks.

Simon leads you to the door and unsheaths a weapon for you – a machete he had taught you to wield with relative ease. You grip it in your hands, nervously twirling it around until you find a comfortable position. Simon nods his head and pulls out a combat knife, holding it low at his side before opening the door.

The descent to the lobby is relatively easy, you walk over the undead that have already been taken care of in the stairwell.

“I took care of these already,” he explains without you even having to ask, helping you jump over a pile of 3 zombies at the foot of the stairs.

“You got more kills under your belt than me,” you comment, mostly in jest to lighten your mood.

Simon huffs under his breath, slowly pushing open the door to the lobby, “You have no idea.”

You squint and turn off your flashlight when you step into the well lit lobby. The sun is now above the horizon, allowing you to see with ease once again.

Simon remains in front of you, making your way to the double front doors. You peek around him, heart racing in your chest as your grip on your weapon tightens.

“Are you ready?” he asks, casting a glance over his shoulder.

“No…” you confess, shuffling closer to him.

“Everything will be okay,” he promises firmly and you actually believe him.

When he pushes open the door, the groans of the undead fill your ears and you find your eyes darting frantically around the streets that you can now see with terrifying clarity.

Hundreds of undead swarm the streets, stumbling and groaning as they shuffle around aimlessly in search of food. Simon reaches down and takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You know it’s going to be the fight of your life but with Simon by your side, you have faith that you’re going to make it through and find somewhere safe together.

property of rowarn; do not modify, repost, or translate.

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i-will-be-there-one-day · 2 years ago

Text

the feeling |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: a little tipsy, definitely hungry, and missing carmen, you find your way to the restaurant after closing to see him.

my first work/ blurb here <3 I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it!!

contains: 18+minors dni. mentions of a gun and alcohol but not in a bad way lol? established relationship. slight mentions of a dom/sub dynamic. language. but really just fluff fluff fluff <3

"Yo! We're fucking closed!" Richie's voice boomed, throwing down the rag on the table. He huffed, teeth gritting, trying to remember to count yet he was still reaching for the gun in holster. Sure, he could be calm, but he still needed to be safe.

The pounding on the glass continued, a muffled, giggly scream from the other side of the blinds hiding the entrance. "Richie! Let us innnn!"

"Cousin," Carmen yelled from the back, running a bandaged hand through his curls. "What's goin' on?"

Richard rolled his eyes, peeking through the blinds to confirm his suspicions. Just as he thought, there you were, standing on the sidewalk in fucking Chicago with your heels in your hand, leaning onto your friend for support. Carmy was gonna be pissed, that was for certain.

"It's your girl." Richie scoffed, twisting the lock so it unfastened with a loud click, the bell trilling when he pulled it open.

"Richie!" You cheered, staggering on your feet. "Told you they'd still be here." You told Alicia, looping an arm around hers.

"My girl?" Carmen repeated, pushing the swinging doors of the kitchen, heavy chef's clogs on the freshly mopped ground.

"The hell you doin'?" Richie looked at you, face deadpanned and unimpressed. His arm held the door open for you and your friend anyways, jerking his head so the two of you huddled in.

"We did karaoke tonight." You grinned at Richie, clutching the nearest booth when you passed to steady yourself.

Karaoke night was a once a month occurrence, down at Trader Todd's. Carmen had went twice with you and Alicia before, it was a little too touristy for him, but he liked watching you sing. He'd laughed so hard his sides hurt when you serenaded a Nickelback song to him because "it seemed like something he'd like". It was good, nice to laugh like that. It was nice to be with you.

Carmen furrowed his brow, hands thrown out towards you lightly. "What are ya doin'?" He asked, rag slung over his shoulder.

You rolled your lip, eyes trailing down his tattooed, veiny arms. "Just left karaoke." You hummed, striding playfully over to him. "Got hungry and I just so happen to know a place with the best fries in the world."

Carmen snorted when you looped your arms around his neck, swaying with him gently. Richie huffed, eyeing Alicia at the booth. "We're closed. Didn't you see the sign?"

"Can't make an exception for us?" You pouted, looking over your shoulder at Richie. "C'mon, we came all this way for nothing? Not a single fry?"

"You walked here?" Carmen's eyes flashed at you.

"You need a cuppa coffee is what you need." Richie rolled his eyes, ignoring his cousin's comment.

"Ooh, I'd take a cup of coffee." Alicia nodded, head propped on her hand at the freshly cleaned booth, still a little wet and sticky. "And a slice of cake."

"Mmm," You nodded in agreement, grinning at her.

"Hey," Carmen's hand cradled your jaw gently, tugging your gaze back to him. "Did you walk here?"

"No." You rolled your eyes playfully at him, curling into his calloused hands anyways. "We Ubered."

"Good." Carmen hummed, his hand pressing to the small of your back, pushing you closer into his touch. "I'd have your ass if you did, you hear me?" He muttered, low and gravelly in your ear, hand trailing down to the swell of your ass, squeezing the fatty flesh through your dress. A warning or simply just him being playful, you weren't sure, but you flushed nonetheless, knees buckling.

"Kitchen's closed." Carmen announced, looking at you and Alicia, both your boos and cries of protest a chorus bouncing off the empty walls. "But I'll make you a fresh pot of coffee and see if we have any left over cake, but you," His finger poked your side, leaving you squealing and squirming in his grasp. "Have to clean up."

"Yes, Chef." You saluted him playfully.

Carmen rolled his eyes, but pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. Brief and light, not nearly the same kiss he gave you this morning before he left for work. When you were still rolled up in the warm covers, eyes fluttering with sleep, the light of the morning on your skin.

Carmen patted your ass lightly, before turning back to go to the kitchen. You grinned triumphantly, snagging two forks and napkins before sliding into the booth across from Alicia. Richie's face fell, dropping the rag on the table he was cleaning.

"Oh, no fuckin' way. Cousin!" Richie yelled, stomping towards the kitchen. "Carmen, we're closed!"

"I got is, cousin. You can go." Carmen nodded towards the door, scooping the ground beans into the pot. "Gotta take them home anyways. I'll finish up."

Richie's face fell slightly, eyes bouncing from Carmen back to you and your friend, giggling over your phones, slumped into the booths.

Carmen looked at him, brow raised at his displeasure. "What?"

Richie huffed. "I just finished cleanin' the tables, and-and I'm tryin' real hard here to help you out and be better, but cousin, you gotta-"

"-They'll clean it up." Carmen said firmly, pressing the button firmly. "Or my girl will. I'll make sure of it, alright? I got it."

"Carmy-"

"-Look, Richie, I appreciate you helping me. I do. You've done real good too." Carmen said genuinely. "But I got it covered. Why don't you go sit with them? Tell Alicia the Bill Murray story, she'll like it." He nodded towards your friend.

Richie's ears perked, turning to look at the girl across from you. His love life was still shit, that was for sure, bad date after bad date. "You think?" Richie asked in a low tone.

Carmen shrugged casually. "Sure, yeah. Watch. Hey, baby," Carmen called to you. "You ever told Alicia about when Richie met Bill Murray?"

"Oh my God, no." You giggled, head tipping back onto the booth.

"Wait," Alicia looked over at Richie with a small grin. "Bill Murray? Ghostbusters, Bill Murray?"

"Yes, holy shit, Richie you hafta tell her." You giggled, tapping the table lightly. "He got him to do his voicemail and-"

"- Hold on, you gotta start from the beginning or it'll make no sense." Richie held his hands up, sauntering over to the two of you. "Alright, so I'm absolutely hammered. It's six-forty-five in the fucking morning, me and Mikey are leavin' the bar just drunk outta our minds..." Richie pulled a chair up to the table, exaggeratedly launching into his story.

Carmen smirked to himself, cutting two slices of cake and plating them off the still warm, clean dishes. He could hear Richie's voice trilling louder and louder, your laugh a delicate melody that soothed his chest, filled it with warmth.

Carmen slid beside you, just in time for the voice mail, setting your coffee and plate next to you. You muttered a small thank you, pressing a kiss to his cheek before you moved into his side.

"No shit, it's still your voicemail?" Alicia gasped, eyes shining at Richie's

"Swear to God." Richie held his hands up. "Call it right now, you'll hear it."

Alicia looked over at you. You nodded, picking up your fork. "It's true."

"Well, now I gotta hear it for myself." Alicia declared, snatching her phone off the table. "What's your number?"

Richie flushed for a second, faltering before he sputtered out the number. You looked up at Carmen, brows raised in amusement. He shrugged lightly, pushing the coffee closer to you. "Drink it f'me, please."

You cradled the still steaming mug, lifting it to your lip while Alicia's jaw dropped, hearing Bill Murray's voice on the other end. "Oh my God!" She gasped, laughing. "That is so fucking amazing!"

"Thank you!" Richie threw a hand out to her. "It is fucking amazing. My proudest accomplishment- well, beside my daughter, of course, but a close second."

"How old is your daughter?" Alicia scooted closer, lashes batting towards Richie as he pulled out his phone to flick through photos.

You smirked, looking up at Carmen. "Thanks for the cake," You hummed, resting your head on his arm. "And the coffee."

"Anything for you, c'mon." Carmen shrugged, trying to hide the blush he felt rising in his cheeks. He hadn't done this before, really, had a relationship like this. One that felt this good. One where he felt this safe with someone.

"I'll clean it up, promise." You yawned, lashes fluttering, while your head fell heavier and heavier pressed on his bicep. "Hand wash 'em if you want me too."

"I know you will." Carmen muttered, shimmying his arm out so he could wrap it around you, letting you fall into his chest.

He didn't let you clean up, though. You stayed half awake, a little woozy and sleepy in the booth, listening to Alicia and Richie's playful flirting. You'd tried to get up, but he snatched the plate gently from you before you could, nodding at you to stay put.

You held his hand the whole way back to the apartment, resting in the center console, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. Richie had offered to take Alicia home, which she eagerly agreed to, leaving the two of you to return to your own place.

Carmen shimmying your dress off you gently, tucking you under the covers with him. The apartment didn't have the same haunting presence here that his old one did. Not tainted with nightmares or fears. No, here he felt good. Happy memories he'd created with you, loving ones that filled his chest with contentment. He still had his moments, waking in a cold sweat screaming and clinging to you, but they were becoming scarcer with each day. He took care of you, and you took care of him- it was everything he'd ever fucking wanted.

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i-will-be-there-one-day · 2 years ago

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Who doesn’t love a Hangman that falls first! 💙

When The Morning Comes

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x OFC (could be read as reader-insert, no use of Y/N) Summary: Jake doesn’t do serious. He was really upfront and honest about that. So why is he he one getting really tired of saying goodbye every morning? Rating: PG-13 for swears. Words: 3K+ Author’s Note: Here I am again writing fic in the year 2023 because I haven’t stopped thinking about Jake Seresin since last summer. This is slightly Band of Brothers adjacent because I’m incapable of putting away that particular hyper-fixation but you don’t need to know anything about it to understand this. Disclaimer: I don’t own the character Jake or Top Gun: Maverick. Please don’t re-post or translate my work without my permission. There's probably some inaccuracies here though I did my best to Google a few things, but even so, please be nice.

He watches her as she works out of the corner of his eye. He tells himself that he's not seeking her out every time he wanders the corridors at the hangar, but it just happens.

She's impossible to ignore.

There's a sinking feeling in his gut as she very much doesn't make eye contact with him, and in fact, she brushes by him as she leaves the room without so much as a glance.

"All set?" He asks Rooster gruffly, who arches an eyebrow.

"Didn't think you cared so much, Hangman." He gets up from the exam table, hands brushing over the thin line of stitches near his eyebrow.

Jake rolls his eyes.

"Oh!" Rooster says suddenly, eyes lighting up. "It's not me you're here for--"

"Shut up."

Bradshaw's not lying though, which makes Jake grit his teeth even harder.

"Secret's safe with me." He says with a wink, leaving Jake standing in Sick Bay by himself, questioning basically every life decision he's made to get to this point.

Six months earlier

"Listen up!" Maverick calls over the din, and when he can't get anyone's attention except for Dagger Squad, Admiral Bates does the job with a sharp whistle.

The hangar goes quiet, and they sit quietly as they listen to the mission briefing. Three months of training, and then they'll be shipped out to God knows where for God knows how long.

While he's pretty used to this particular way of life by now, he sees some of the other squads he doesn't know sharing nervous looks.

There's a group standing closer to the door that he's never had the pleasure to interact with - the medical staff from Sick Bay. The doctors look bored, but there's a new medic who's caught his eye from the minute he walked into the room.

She's taking notes or something, and Jake smirks as she looks up, meeting his eyes briefly. She rolls her eyes and looks back to her notebook, which only makes him smile wider.

He introduces himself the first time he gets a chance, later at the Hard Deck.

"I'm Jake," he says, holding out a hand.

"Good for you." She says, not looking up from her phone.

"Waiting on someone?"

"Someone else, definitely."

There's something about the way she says it - there's no heat in her words really, even though he knows she's trying to put him off. Look -- everyone thinks Jake is an asshole, and he knows he can be sometimes, but he doesn't want to stick around where he's clearly not wanted, even if all he wants to do is sit here with her and learn everything there is to know about her.

"Enjoy your drink," he says, and leaves her there looking a little surprised, if the crease between her brows is any indication.

It's a few days later when he has an excuse to see her again, though not under the circumstances he would have wished.

He's being semi-held up between Javy and Rooster, and he's scowling. "I'm fine," he grumbles.

"Sure, tell that to the control panel you smashed your head off of." Javy says, and Jake would roll his eyes, it's just that he can't really see straight, so he thinks he'd just pass out.

Okay, so he had to emergency land. At least he didn't have to eject.

"Put him here." He hears her voice, kind but authoritative. "Lieutenant Seresin, I thought I told you the other night I wasn't interested."

Javy snorts, and Rooster bites back a grin.

"Desperate times calls for desperate measures." Jake says, groaning as he lies back on the exam table.

Then she's there, looming over him, and the irony isn't lost on him that this is the first time she's looking him directly in the eye. Well, her and her flashlight, anyway.

"Pupils a bit larger than I'd like." She mutters. He finds himself really unable to do anything other than watch her as his vision wavers. "Concussion, obviously." She says. "Is the light bothering you?"

"A little." He answers.

She hums in sympathy. "You need stitches. Give me a minute." She says, and then her warmth is gone, and the bright light overhead is all he can see, making him close his eyes.

He sighs. This really isn't the impression he wanted to make.

Dimly, he registers Javy and Rooster leaving the room, saying they needed to go tell the rest of the Daggers how he was doing. He's sure Phoenix and Bob are pacing somewhere. Mav, too.

"Stupid." He mutters.

"What?" She asks, sounding offended.

"Nothing. Not you." He says, eyes opening as she leans over him again, hissing when she wipes an antiseptic over his forehead. "A little warning would have been nice."

"Don't be a baby." She chides, face full of determination. "Stay still."

He lets her work for a few minutes before he tries again. "I meant that I felt stupid for this."

She meets his eyes quickly. "Sounded like you did what you had to do so you didn't kill yourself."

"You were listening?" He asks, surprised. He feels dumber that he didn't realize that. Of course the medics were on standby.

"It's my job." She says. She pauses for a minute, glancing at her wrist. Her wristwatch is turned the wrong way round, so the face of it is on the inside. It's very military, and it makes him smile. It's how he can spot another Navy guy a mile away.

Hers is different than his, though, the face worn and scratched.

"Is that thing even ticking?" He asks as she gets back to work.

Her tongue is between her teeth as she completes the next few stiches, the sight making him a little distracted.

"It was my great-grandfather's."

He feels like he's bothering her, so he doesn't ask any more questions, but she surprises him by continuing.

"He's the reason I wanted to get into medicine. He was an Army medic."

"And that was his service watch?"

"Made it through the drop to Normandy and back."

Jake's eyebrows rise. "A paratrooper."

She nods. "He died before I was old enough to figure out what I wanted to do, but this watch has kept on ticking. Feels like I've got him over my shoulder advising me on what to do."

"That's really nice." Jake says honestly, and again he catches a surprised look on her face.

"I'm sorry," she says, maybe seeing the way his features droop. "You can sit up," she says off-hand before continuing. "I wasn't really fair to you. I've just-- to be honest, I've heard some things. Made me think..."

Jake nods. He knows what everyone says. And to be fair, he's never given anyone other than his friends any reason to doubt the rumors about him. What's the point? He'd rather let everyone on North Island think what they want than spending time fighting his reputation. It's not worth it, especially when he leaves often for months at a time.

"Anyway. That wasn't fair. I'm sorry."

He shakes his head, pasting on a smile he doesn't really feel. "No harm done. I don't really... I don't really do serious. So the rumors aren't far off." He doesn't know why he says it. It's the truth - he's scared of getting attached. He's no good at being someone's boyfriend and he knows it. But still -- it feels weird to say it out loud to her.

"Well. Okay then, Lieutenant. You're going to be grounded for awhile, unfortunately. Come back next week and we'll see how you're doing."

Over the next few weeks, they do more mission prep, which means the medical team and the Daggers are together more often than not. They'll all be together as a wing on the carrier, and it's important that everyone knows all the details of every minute of the mission.

They have enough downtime too, and that's where he really finds himself in deep trouble. All because of her.

Phoenix has taking a liking to her, and really, everyone else has too. It's hard not to like her.

He's watching her now, contemplative eyes as he tilts his beer bottle back to his lips, and his heart does a funny little flip at the sound of her laugh.

He's surprised when she makes her way over to him at the end of the night, elbowing him lightly.

"All alone, Hangman?"

He smiles wryly. "Only got room in my heart for one lucky lady, Doc."

The nickname was her great-grandfather's, and it's stuck to her too. The first time Mav called her that, she got a little misty-eyed, and Jake found it so endearing he could barely look at her.

She rolls her eyes. "You get back up in the air tomorrow."

He nods, having been cleared by the medical team earlier that day. He can't wait. He misses the adrenaline and the sound of the engines roaring underneath him.

"Thanks to you," he says, nudging her in return. She'd been like a drill sergeant the last few weeks, watching him like a hawk to make sure he stuck to paperwork and didn't overwork himself while he recovered from his concussion.

"Just doing my job." Her standard answer. He thinks it's interesting that someone so confident has a hard time accepting any praise.

"No, it's something else." He says, taking another pull from his bottle. "You were born to do this, I think. You've got a special touch."

She blinks rapidly, and for a horrifying moment, he thinks she might cry. She clears her throat. "How many of those have you had?" She gestures towards the bottle in his hand. "I said one beer, Seresin."

"Not even a full one." He assures her. "And I mean that, Doc."

The way she's looking at him sends his heart racing. Is she--? No, he's imagining it, that she looks like she's leaning in a little, her lips parted invitingly. That's impossible.

"Thank you, Jake." She says softly, and it's the first time she's ever called him by his first name. It takes everything inside of him to stop from leaning into her a little bit more, and in the end he doesn't fight it.

They sit there, side by side, shoulder to shoulder, in a comfortable silence for the rest of the night. And if her pinky brushes his just a little on the bartop, he doesn't draw attention to it. He just lets it happen, enjoying the warmth unfurling inside of him.

The briefing where they get their assignments for the mission is tense. This is a dangerous one. Top secret, and not even the medic team is allowed in the room with the Daggers while they get briefed.

There's some speculation that they won't even come along - that this mission is so secret, the fewer eyes on it, the better.

It makes something twist inside him, the thought that he might not see her until he comes home from deployment. He hasn't had that feeling in a really, really long time.

Afterwards, he's wandering the corridors aimlessly when he quite literally runs smack into her.

"Oh!" She says, surprised, and he grabs at her arms instinctively, holding her upright.

"Sorry, Doc."

"Are you okay?" She asks, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Fine. I--" He looks up, meeting her eyes. "Will you go to dinner with me?"

She swallows. "What?"

"Look, I'm not looking for anything serious. I'm starting to think you aren't either. But I also like you, and I'd like to take you to dinner. If you want." It all comes out in a rush.

"Okay." She says quietly.

"Okay?"

"Okay." She repeats.

They don't even make it through dinner.

He's so distracted by the sight of her in civilian clothes that he can barely form a coherent sentence all night.

It must show on his face, and he really feels like an asshole for it, but she also responds to it, so he doesn't stop himself from staring at her, not this time.

Somewhere in the middle of the dinner course, she puts down her fork. "Are you going to take me home now?"

He doesn't think he's ever scribbled his signature on a check so fast in his life.

After that it's all a blur of heated gazes, wandering hands, and finally, mouths meeting. It's all flushed skin and, for Jake, trembling hands. He tries not to examine that particular fact too much.

In the morning, she leaves before he wakes up. He feels a little weird about it, but it's also how it has to be. It's how he's always done things. And if that's good for her too, even better.

They go on like that for weeks. He tries not to think about how each morning it's harder and harder to watch her get dressed in the haze when she thinks he's still asleep.

He tries not to think about how she always looks back over her shoulder before she goes, something soft in her eyes.

He tries not to count down the days between now and his deployment date.

On a Friday morning, he's making no show of the fact that he's awake when she slides out from under the sheets and starts dressing.

"You could stay." He says, voice a little hoarse.

She pauses, but pulls her shirt over her head. "Don't do that." She says, voice quiet but firm.

"Just for breakfast."

"This is what you wanted, Jake. I'm just trying to make this easy for both of us."

His face twists. "And I can't change my mind?"

"Actually, no." She says, voice harsh. "Because you've said to me a hundred times that you weren't looking for anything serious. Staying longer, spending days together... that's serious. I'm just doing what you wanted."

Maybe I don't want that anymore. The thought rattles around in his brain, but he doesn't say it.

"It doesn't have to mean anything." He says without thinking, and the look she gives him is withering.

"You've been doing your best not to let any of this mean anything, Seresin."

"We're going by last names now?"

"For fuck's sake, Jake!" She hisses, tugging her pants on. "I should have trusted my instincts with you. I should have listened to my gut."

He sits up straighter now, hurt lacing his tone. "So you've just been miserable for the last few months, right? None of this has been pleasurable for you, and that's my fault."

"I didn't say that."

"You know what? Don't let me keep you. Must have been a moment of insanity." He says, voice hard. "You're right. Keep it simple, keep it meaningless. That's perfect."

She doesn't say anything else as she gathers the rest of her stuff and slams the door behind her.

He doesn't see her again until the final mission briefing before deployment.

They're being deployed to the same carrier. That wasn't supposed to happen. The whole reason he decided to take a chance, to finally act on these feelings that he's afraid to identify... it was spurred on by the idea that he may come back in a year to find her elsewhere.

Their eyes meet across the hangar. There's nothing friendly in them now.

He swallows hard. This is going to be a shit-show.

They're out in the middle of the goddamned ocean when he, yet again, has to race to Rooster's rescue. It's not nearly as terrifying as the last time it happened, but he's still furious at his friend for risking his life once again. Rooster skids into the carrier with his landing gear barely hanging on, and the rough landing has him doing his best impression of Jake himself all those months ago when he nearly smashed his face into the control panel.

He has to help Rooster get to the Sick Bay because he can't do it on his own, and no matter how much he wants to avoid seeing her, he needs to get help, and Doc is the best, there's no doubt about it.

They ignore each other, though he watches her. He can't help it. She handles Rooster like he's the most important person in the room, and it twists something inside Jake, though he knows that's what makes her invaluable.

She leaves before he can say anything to her.

"All set?" He asks Rooster gruffly, who arches an eyebrow.

"Didn't think you cared so much, Hangman." He gets up from the exam table, hands brushing over the thin line of stitches near his eyebrow.

Jake rolls his eyes.

"Oh!" Rooster says suddenly, eyes lighting up. "It's not me you're here for--"

"Shut up."

Bradshaw's not lying though, which makes Jake grit his teeth even harder.

"Secret's safe with me." He says with a wink, leaving Jake standing in Sick Bay by himself, questioning basically every life decision he's made to get to this point.

In the corridor outside Sick Bay, she's lingering. Pacing.

Jake stops. He's not sure how to get past her without speaking to her. And truthfully, he knows he owes her an apology. He owes her more than that, but he doesn't know how.

"He's going to be okay," She says. "Just so you know."

"I know. Had you fixing him up, after all."

"You sounded scared on the comms."

He shakes his head. "He's reckless."

"He's your friend. It's okay to worry." It's okay to feel things, she doesn't say, but he hears it like she shouted it.

He puts his hands on his hips. "I worry a lot, actually. I worry about a lot of things."

She's just watching him warily, and he goes on, actually unable to stop rambling.

"I worried from the second I met you that I was going to fall in love with you, and that's exactly what happened."

Her mouth falls open, and he plows on.

"I worried that if I let myself get too close, I'd never recover when inevitably you found someone better than me. I didn't think we were getting deployed together. I thought I'd never see you again, that I'd come home and you'd have found someone that deserves you. So I put a boundary there, and I never should have. Even when you respected it, I got angry with you. Because I did want more."

"Jake, what the fuck?" She breathes, and he laughs.

"I know. I'm an asshole, and I'm sorry. I just-- I couldn't stop myself. With every little thing I learned about you, I just fell a little harder. And that was never the deal. So even when you acted like... like you could've felt the same way, I didn't give you the chance." He smiles, but it's more like a wince. "Call it self preservation, I guess."

"You're so stupid, Lieutenant Seresin." Her voice is shaky. "As if I would have thought about anyone else for a year, even if we were separated."

His head snaps back up to meet her eyes. "Doc?"

"I've been falling for you this whole time too, you idiot. And the only reason I didn't want to stay that morning was because I'd worked so hard to stop myself wanting more than you were willing to give."

"I'm sorry."

"You keep saying that."

"I can keep saying it, if it helps."

She takes two quick strides in his direction while they're alone, and kisses him. Quick and hard, it sets his skin afire and his heart pounding.

"Back to work, Hangman." She says against his lips as she lowers herself down to her feet. "We'll talk about this later." Her thumb presses into the dimple on his cheek.

"If I have to, Doc." He says, and this time when he watches her walk away, he knows it's for the last time.

He's not going to let her out of his sight for a long time, if he can help it.

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader

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i-will-be-there-one-day · 2 years ago

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Princess needs to stay in Noah’s life and Meredith can just disappear forever

The Younger Kind Part 15 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You start to regret showing up for Noah's birthday party once you feel exactly how awkward things are between you and Bradley. But when you witness his jealousy and learn that his hurtful words were more lies than truth, you agree to at least hear him out.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, and age gap (18+)

Length: 5000 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

When Bradley managed to pull his head out of his ass long enough to invite you to Noah's birthday party, he hadn't anticipated what it would be like if you actually came. You texted him back on Friday, letting him know you would try to stop by. But now that he and Nat were setting everything up, Bradley was feeling anxious.

Every time a guest arrived, he poked his head outside to see if your car was there, only to be disappointed. He wanted to see you. That much was plainly evident now. But he wanted to do way more than that. He missed you so much.

"She'll be here," Nat told him as she held Noah. "There's no way she's going to be able to live with herself if she disappoints this little guy. Isn't that right, Noah? Now pout at your dad."

Bradley laughed as Noah and Nat both made sad, pouty faces at him. "You're right. Nobody could say no to that," Bradley said, blowing a raspberry on his son's neck until they were both laughing.

Jake strolled in with two six packs of beer and looked around. "Happy birthday, Noah. Where's your babysitter, little dude?"

Bradley rolled his eyes in response, and just as he was about to say he wasn't sure if you were even coming, you opened the front door and met Bradley's eyes right away.

"Hi," you said softly, your arms filled with gift bags and treats as you shifted everything around nervously.

"Princess," Bradley said before he could catch himself. His heart was pounding as you bit your glossy lip anxiously and turned your attention to Noah.

"Happy birthday!" As soon as you said those two words, you had Noah's full attention, and he squirmed to get out of Nat's arms and run to you. Bradley watched you kneel and set everything on the floor so Noah could hug you.

"See? He needs her here. And I don't think he's the only one," Nat whispered as she shoved Bradley toward you. But Jake was right there as well, and Bradley knew for a fact that Hangman was interested in you. He'd been not so subtly asking about you since he saw the photo of you on Bradley's phone at the Hard Deck. The photo of you wearing your purple crown.

"You must be the babysitter," Jake drawled with a grin as he approached you on the floor with Noah. He was looking down the front of your little dress, Bradley just knew it. And when you looked up at him with innocent eyes, nodding and introducing yourself, Bradley was on the verge of kicking Jake out of his house. Because it looked indecent, the way you were positioned and the way Jake was easing himself a little closer still.

Bradley cleared his throat loudly. "I'll just take these into the kitchen," he said, scooping up the gifts. And that's when he noticed you'd made a whole container of ants on logs wearing party hats made out of lettuce. Bradley wanted to throw you over his shoulder and take you to his room, make love to you, and never hurt you again. He met your eyes, kneeling just a foot away from you while Noah pawed at you.

"Okay," you whispered. You looked far less pleased when you were looking at Bradley than you did when you were looking at Noah or Jake. He deserved that. He knew he did. He was lucky you even decided to come today to make Noah happy.

Oh god, Bradley wanted to take back every horrible word he said to you, but he couldn't. The damage was done now, just as he had originally intended. And he had to watch as Jake helped you stand and run his fingers up your uninjured arm.

"Hi!" called two of the moms of Noah's daycare friends as they walked in with their own kids, taking Bradley's attention away from you. He greeted them and their children, and ended up adding even more gift bags to his arms.

Then Mav and Penny arrived. Bradley let Penny take his face in her hands and pat his cheeks, something he probably wouldn't let anyone else do to him. And then she kissed him and asked, "How's the dating thing working out for you?"

Bradley laughed sardonically. "I've pushed that to the back burner, Pen."

"Yeah. Mav told me that Meredith is giving you a hard time. If there's anything we can do...?"

"I appreciate it. I'll let you know."

When Bradley finally went into the kitchen to put Noah's snacks in the refrigerator and set down the gifts, he froze. You had already made your way in here. Your back was to him, and you were talking to Jake. Bradley could hear your laughter in response to something Jake said, and he had never been so jealous before. He was so used to coaxing that gorgeous sound from your lips himself. Those glossy lips that Jake was eyeing up, no doubt thinking about doing something dirty to them.

Bradley's breath caught in his throat as you turned to glance at him over your shoulder with a bland look. He was so used to your flirtatious smile and bright, wide eyes being focused on him. God, he had taken it all for granted, and now you couldn't stand him.

And if Bradley thought he had been jealous a moment ago when Jake made you laugh, it was nothing compared to the outrage he felt as he watched Jake touch your waist. He squeezed you gently, letting his fingers dig into the fabric of your floral dress. All of the gifts tumbled out of Bradley's hands and onto the table, and you sidestepped Jake's grubby little hand to turn and look at him.

"One of my gifts is fragile," you said with annoyance, rooting through the pile to make sure it was okay. But Bradley was looking at Jake, and Jake was looking right back at him before his eyes dipped down to your ass.

"Seresin. Let's go outside. Now," Bradley growled, pointing at the sliding glass door off the kitchen.

Jake's little smirk grew as he said, "Sure thing, Bradshaw," and headed out.

Bradley slid the door closed with a thud and rounded on Jake. "Don't touch her."

Jake laughed heartily. "You fucking her, Rooster? Damn, you must be. Or you were." He paused, and Bradley could feel his cheeks heating up. "Maybe it wasn't any good for her? Because right now, she's not looking at you at all, man."

Bradley ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek and clenched his fists. "Don't touch her, and don't talk about her. Don't even fucking look at her."

But Jake just cocked his head. "Hey, that's some great advice. And here's some for you. If you have access to a hot little piece of ass like that, you don't keep her tucked away in your house. You show that off. Let everyone know about it. That's what I'd do."

"Jake. Just stop." Bradley was fuming now, and also annoyed that he was letting Hangman get under his skin. But Jake was right; Bradley should have been showing you off when he had the chance instead of going on dates with the women from the app. Maybe then you and he would be in a place where he could be bold enough to ask you to stay with him in spite of Meredith.

"Why should I? Are you dating her?"

Bradley closed his eyes for a beat and let out a puff of air. "No."

"If you don't want her, why can't I have her?"

Bradley shook his head. "I never said that."

You opened the sliding glass door and poked your head outside, and both men stood at attention for you. "The pizzas are here," you told Bradley. "Want me to pay the guy with the money behind the TV?"

Bradley cleared his throat and glared at Jake for a second. "I'll take care of it, Princess," he said, pausing in the doorway with you. He had missed being this close to you, close enough to smell wildflowers. Your expression was softer now, almost that of an injured animal. He wanted to apologize for hurting you, but he settled for letting his fingers trace your knuckles before he pulled out his wallet for the pizzas.

You didn't flinch. You didn't back away. But that look in your eye grew a little sadder, and Bradley knew he had put it there. "Princess," he whispered, softer this time, and your lips parted before you turned and walked away from him and outside to Jake.

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

You were a mess. You shouldn't have come to the birthday party. All you wanted was to see Noah and bring him some treats, but it was killing you to be around Bradley, pretending like you weren't crushed.

And the second you had let your guard down, Jake started flirting with you. Which was fine. It didn't really matter. He seemed sweet enough even though he kept cornering you in conversation every time you tried to talk to Penny. You did manage to sneak away as Nat waved you over. But you could tell by the sympathetic look in her eyes that she knew Bradley had basically dumped you.

"Hey, Natasha. It's nice to see you," you managed with a small smile.

"I'm really happy you came," she replied as Noah ran up to hug your leg before returning to his friends. He had been hanging out with you more than anyone else, really. "And clearly so is the birthday boy."

"Yeah, well... I'm kind of attached to him, sadly," you said with a forced laugh. Then you asked the question that had been on your mind since you arrived. The one you were afraid to hear the answer to. "Hey, is Meredith coming?"

Nat's eyes went wide and she almost dropped her slice of pizza. "Hell no. Why would Meredith be here? In fact, I would go so far as to say that if she decides to show up, I will drag her outside myself and make her leave."

You were gaping at her. "She and Bradley aren't... talking? About getting back together? For Noah?"

Now she really did drop her pizza right onto the hardwood floor. "Who told you that?!"

"Nobody."

Bradley had lied to you about Meredith. But why? What would be the point in that? And if he wanted to hurt you, then why did he invite you here today? Why was he looking at you like he missed you and calling you Princess instead of ignoring you?

You bent and used your napkin to wipe up the cheese and sauce, and when you stood, Nat looked like she was about to rage. Without another word, she took off in Bradley's direction leaving you with so many questions swirling around in your mind.

When you made your way back into the kitchen to throw the napkin away, you decided it would be a good idea for you to just sneak out the back door and head home. You once again felt drained and undesirable and disrespected. It didn't really matter how badly you wanted to be here for Noah if Bradley wasn't going to be honest with you about what was going on. You reached for the container of snacks for Noah and set it in the refrigerator, and then you turned to find Jake right behind you.

"Oh!" you gasped, jumping awkwardly. "I didn't know you were in here."

His smile was so charming, you could do nothing but smile back as he said, "Just came in for more pizza, but found something so much nicer instead." He touched your arm again, and you rolled your eyes.

"You're a shameless flirt," you informed him, as if he didn't know that already.

"What? You don't like that?" he asked, taking a step closer.

You matched his smirk with your own. "Maybe I like a guy who can be subtle sometimes."

"Hey, that sounds like my good friend Bradshaw," he said, running his thumb slowly up to your shoulder. "But maybe he's a little too subtle? A little too reserved? You deserve to be set right on a pedestal. All out in the open."

You laughed. You couldn't help it. This was absolutely ridiculous. "No, I think I would prefer a throne. Like a Princess. In a castle," you told him, thinking about all the castles you and Noah had built out of blocks while wearing your paper crowns. Thinking about the times you and Bradley had been so comfortable together, talking on his couch.

"Okay," Jake drawled. "I like where this is headed. And if Bradshaw doesn't want you, I definitely do, Princess."

You opened your mouth to tell him not to call you that, but he was already leaning in and kissing you.

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

Bradley saw red. He never really understood that expression before. It never made sense. Until right now. It felt and looked like all of the blood in his body was obscuring his vision. And all he wanted to do was make Jake Seresin hurt.

Jake's hands were on your face and neck, and his lips were pressed to yours. Right in the middle of Bradley's kitchen.

Bradley just got finished being reamed out by Nat for being the world's biggest dickhead, so he was already on edge. Already looking to apologize to you and hoping you'd listen to him. But the sight of Jake kissing you was just one step too far, and he wasn't going to let this fly.

With three swift steps, Bradley was right there, grabbing Jake by the shoulder and pulling him away from you. The startled look in your eyes, and the way you were still holding your arms tight to your sides had Bradley shoving Jake against the refrigerator.

"I warned you, Hangman," he growled, but Jake just smirked and licked his lips like he was savoring the way you tasted. The fact that he now also knew how nice your lipgloss was had Bradley seeing double.

"Bradley, it's okay. Stop." Your voice was soft, and then he could feel your hand on his back through his shirt. He turned away from Jake and focused his attention on you instead, unclenching his fists.

"Come with me, Princess." His voice was deep and raspy, and when he wrapped his arm around your waist, you spun away from him.

"Bradley!" you demanded, a little louder this time.

"Please?" he asked, and when he leaned down and kissed your forehead in front of anyone who might be looking, you let him take your hand and lead you into the bathroom. When he closed the door, you leaned back against it and bit your lip in silence.

"What the fuck are you doing to me, Princess?" Bradley asked, his tone pleading. "I can't even look at you, baby. I can't even smell you without hating myself even more."

"Good," you whispered as your gaze settled on his lips. "Where's Meredith?" you asked maliciously. "I haven't seen her all day."

He knew now that you and Nat had spoken. You knew he lied to you last weekend. "She's not coming, and you know it."

"Why did you lie to me about her?"

He swallowed hard. "Princess, I'm so sorry, I-"

"Why? I don't understand! And why do you suddenly care about me today? You told me I'm not right for you. You told me you needed someone better. You said you didn't want this." You gestured to yourself and looked away from him like you were ashamed.

Bradley gently guided your chin with his fingers until you were looking at him again. "I fucking lied about that, too. You're the only thing I want." He eased himself closer to you, desperate to feel your body against his.

You narrowed your eyes at him and pushed on his chest. "You can't keep doing this to me. Leave me alone, Bradley. I don't have time to mess around with you. I know how much you hated doing that with me."

"We weren't just messing around, Princess," he said softly as he backed away from you. He was silently begging you not to open the door and leave him as he swallowed hard. "It meant something to me."

Your eyes fluttered closed as you tilted your head back against the door. He watched your fingers grab at the hem of your dress as you looked at him reluctantly. "Bradley," you whispered. "It meant something to me, too." The anger was gone from your eyes now as you asked him, "Why did you try to hurt me like that on purpose? If you want me, why would you do that?"

"I'm just trying to protect you." He knew he was pleading, and he knew you deserved to hear everything. You also deserved a hell of a lot more than he could give you, and he didn't want to have an hour-long conversation with you in his bathroom during Noah's birthday party.

"Protect me?" you asked softly.

"Yeah. I just want to protect you," he whispered, running his fingers along your bandaged arm. "Will you let me touch you, Princess?"

You reached for his hand, and Bradley let you take the lead. When you linked your fingers through his and gave a little tug, he went willingly. You pulled him close until you and he were breathing the same air, and he could feel your body heat.

"Protect me from what?" you asked softly, and Bradley had to brace his other hand on the door next to your head as you kissed the edge of his lips softly. "I don't need you to protect me. I need you to appreciate me. Show me some respect. I'm not stupid."

His heart was pounding at the feel of your lips on his skin. "I know you're not stupid, baby. I'm the one who can't get his shit straight. Not you. I'll tell you everything," he promised, panting slightly. "I swear. Just stay. After everyone else leaves, please stay. Let me explain? Let me be good to you?"

Your eyes were alert, examining his face, trying to make sense of everything. When your tongue darted out to wet your lips, you said, "Okay. I'll stay. But you only get one chance, Bradley."

"I won't fuck it up. I promise. I've missed you so much."

This time you kissed him square on the lips, pulling him closer still by your linked fingers. The soft fabric of your dress was rubbing along his hand, and he knew he would give you anything you wanted. But he had to know, so he released your lips.

"Baby, what the hell were you doing with Jake?"

You paused before saying, "Just talking."

Bradley shook his head at you. "No. Your lips don't need to be touching his if you're just talking."

You sucked in a breath as he brought your hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to each finger. "He kissed me," you whispered. "He called me Princess."

"No," Bradley grunted. "I call you Princess. And he doesn't get to kiss you. Especially not in my house. Tell me I'm better."

Your eyes flashed with sudden need. "You're jealous."

He nodded and kissed your pinky. "You're goddamn right I'm fucking jealous." The softest smirk touched your lips before Bradley leaned in and kissed you. "Am I better than Jake?"

You were smiling now, your eyes wide. "I can't believe you're jealous over me."

Bradley growled. "Am I better?"

"You're better, Bradley."

He covered your lips with his while you rubbed your hand gently along his abs.

"You're such a good girl. Too good for Jake."

"Bradley!" you moaned as he kissed you again. He couldn't keep his lips off you now. This was all he wanted to do. Just kiss you. But he needed to get out of the bathroom before he did something stupid again.

"I know, baby," he whispered against your cheek. "We're gonna talk later. Let's go back out there. And you can tell Jake that you're not interested in him."

You laughed softly. "You want me to go tell him that I'm not interested in him? Because you're jealous?"

Bradley just nodded again. "You go tell him, Princess. Now. And then later on we can talk more."

"Okay, fine," you whispered smugly, and Bradley opened the bathroom door. He watched you walk on slightly unsteady legs as you made your way toward Jake in the living room. Every couple seconds, you smirked back over your shoulder, and Bradley silently urged you on.

Jake eyed you up and down and then met Bradley's eyes as you spoke to him. He looked annoyed now. Bradley felt elated.

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

Bradley was jealous! He had lied to you about everything, and now he was jealous that you were giving Jake attention. This day was turning out so much better than you thought it was going to.

You took a deep breath, looked at Jake and said, "I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression earlier, but I'm not interested in you. Not like that."

"Huh," Jake grunted. "Well, I can't say I'm not disappointed, Princess."

It sounded so wrong, hearing that nickname from anyone other than Bradley and Noah. "Please, don't call me that."

Jake's smirk, which was kind of cute an hour ago, was grating on your nerves now. You wanted Bradley to haul you back to the bathroom again, or better yet, his bed. His handsome face was all you could think about as you caught sight of him out of the corner of your eye.

"You know, Bradshaw's alright," Jake drawled, and you turned back to him. "Just the slowest one to make his move on a girl. Don't wait around on him if you want more. He has more baggage weighing him down than anyone I've ever-"

You immediately cut him off. "Don't talk about Noah like that."

"Whoa," he said, chuckling and holding his hands up in surrender. "That's not what I meant. I mean the emotional kind. He's been through a lot. It slows him down, makes him hesitate. That's all I'm saying."

"Well thank you for your concern," you replied sarcastically. "But I think they are both worth the wait." You turned toward Bradley where he was talking to one of the daycare moms, and when you walked past him, you let your fingers trail along his lower back. He turned, and the look he gave you almost made your steps falter as you made your way into the kitchen.

If Bradley and Meredith weren't trying to work things out, if there was another reason why he tried to break things off with you, then you'd figure things out with him. And you wouldn't rush him. Because he couldn't stay away from you, and you couldn't stay away from him either. And you didn't want to have to try to fight it.

"Help me get the cake ready?" Nat asked when she saw you.

"Sure," you replied, opening up disposable plates and getting four candles ready for Noah. You had to keep biting your lip at the memory of kissing Bradley in the bathroom. You were distracted, and Nat must have asked you something.

"I'm sorry, what?"

She just shook her head. "I know Bradley is an idiot, but please, give him another chance. And you should stay away from Jake."

Had everyone seen him kiss you before? "I wasn't trying to-"

"When Bradley settles down, it will be for life. Meredith definitely stunted his ability to commit, but that fact still remains. Jake's got a different method, if you know what I'm saying. Not one to commit to a hairstyle, let alone a woman. So don't listen to him. Now, can you carry the birthday cake out to the living room?"

You just nodded slowly at her words and took the cake to Noah while Nat lit the candles. The room was full of people, and there were so many voices singing to Noah while Bradley stood next to you with his son in his arms. But it felt like just the three of you. Just like all the other times in Bradley's living room and kitchen. His deep voice warmed you everywhere as his fingers stroked up your spine when Noah blew out the candles.

"Did you make a wish?" you asked, and Noah's exaggerated nodding made you laugh. "I'm sure it will come true."

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

Bradley kept glancing your way as you and Noah opened up one of his new toys to play with on the living room couch. You liked his eyes on you. You liked his attention. You liked knowing he was jealous earlier.

"You want me to make you some coffee, Princess?" he asked, popping back into the living room as you and Noah raced cars across the floor.

"No, we're busy," you told him with a smirk, looking up at him. "Aren't you supposed to be cleaning up with Nat and Penny?"

He took a step closer and said, "I just want to make sure you're not leaving yet?"

You shook your head. "You asked me to stay. I told you I'll stay."

Bradley grunted and went back into the kitchen, and a few minutes later, Penny and Pete came out. "You ready to go, kiddo?" Penny asked Noah. "You're coming with us for a sleepover." Noah looked up at her from his spot on your lap before he turned around to wrap his arms around your neck.

"That sounds like fun, Noah!" you told him, giving him a squeeze back. You were going to miss him so much. You'd already been missing him like crazy after just a week without him. Hopefully Bradley would help you make sense of things, because you didn't want to have to keep missing him or his son.

Noah gave you a kiss, and then Bradley handed Penny an overnight bag and scooped Noah up in a hug. "I love you. Be good for Penny and Mav." And then they were gone, and Bradley was looking at you on the floor in front of him.

Nat poked her head out of the kitchen as Bradley reached down to help you up with hopeful eyes. "How do you want me to wrap up the rest of this cake?" she asked, holding up a roll of aluminum foil. Then she looked between the two of you, and you stepped away from Bradley as she asked, "Wait, it's just the three of us left? Wrap up the cake yourself," she said, tossing the roll to Bradley and grabbing her bag. "Bye."

You watched Nat breeze out the front door without a backward glance. "What was that all about?" you asked, suddenly very aware that you were now alone with him.

He laughed softly. "She wants me to finish talking to you. Now, apparently."

"Well then, talk," you said, taking another step away from him toward the kitchen. "And don't make me cry again. If you do, I'm leaving."

He looked a little panicked, which made you feel like you were completely in control of things for once. He followed you cautiously as you went to investigate how much of the cake was left. Just when you turned toward him to reach for the roll of foil, Bradley set it on the counter and shook his head.

"I can take care of that later, Princess," he mumbled, caging you in against the counter and kissing you softly.

You moaned and reached for him immediately, kissing him back, he was still so sweet, and even less demanding than he had been in the bathroom. But then you jerked back, bracing your hands on his forearms.

"What's going on, Bradley? You're still all over the place. Tell me everything," you demanded, your volume rising with each sentence as he looked abashed. "Nat spilled the beans about Meredith. Then you told me you lied to me. You got jealous about Jake. But you sent me away in tears a week ago. Just...what the fuck?"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should have never said those things to you last weekend. I didn't mean a single word of it. I was just trying to protect you."

"You keep saying that!" you complained, pushing on his forearms until he let you move away from him. "But you're not saying anything at all." You ran your fingers along your bandaged arm. "And I already got hurt."

"Princess." Bradley followed you across the kitchen to the table, but you pushed on his chest and shook your head.

"Do not make me regret staying here right now," you whispered, and he took a deep breath. "Don't make me regret kissing you in the bathroom."

He stood up straight and ran his hands through his hair. His lips looked pouty and kissable. His cheeks were flushed like they had been earlier. But you were going to stand your ground with him.

When he didn't say anything, you pressed harder. "Talk to me." You watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed and looked at you intently, but he still said nothing. "I'm leaving."

"No!" gasped, reaching for you again, pulling you closer. You were going to protest again, but then he whispered, "I need you."

"For what, Bradley?"

His voice sounded soft, almost defeated as he told you, "Meredith wants custody of Noah."

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

Come on, jealous Daddy! Tell Princess everything! Hope you enjoy your fic, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !

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i-will-be-there-one-day · 2 years ago

Text

Ahhhh, so precious they both wanted each otherrr. They went back to the shitty Bar!

How Could I Forget? | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley met you in a dive bar in Virginia, he just knew he wasn't going to be able to stop thinking about you. Even a year later, he still remembers your laugh and the way you kissed him.

Warnings: Fluff, drinking and swearing

Length: 2800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

I wrote this for the 'Its not the prompt. It's the creator' challenge from @tgm-all4one. Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley flipped through the options in the ancient jukebox while he sipped a cheap beer. This had to be the shittiest bar he'd ever been inside, and that was really saying something, since he was a University of Virginia alumni.

"Let's see..." he muttered. "Danger Zone? No. Take My Breath Away? Nah. Slow Ride? Absolutely not."

He finally selected Great Balls of Fire and turned to check where his cousins had disappeared off to. But the bar was packed with locals waiting for the fireworks to start over the Chesapeake Bay, and he couldn't spot any of them.

If they ditched him in this sticky little hellhole on the outskirts of Norfolk, Virginia, he was going to be so pissed. He scanned the bar once more as the song started playing, and his eyes settled on the cutest thing he had seen in a long time.

You were holding your beer bottle like a microphone and aggressively lip syncing along with Jerry Lee Lewis as his voice blasted from the jukebox.

Bradley smiled. You were right in the middle of the crowded bar, but nobody else had seemed to notice how you were shimmying along to the song, looking adorable in your own little world. Your eyes were squeezed shut as you mouthed Come on baby, you drive me crazy! Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!

When Bradley laughed, you opened your eyes, and they met his immediately. You pressed your lips together, suddenly looking shy at being caught rocking out. You covered your mouth with your hand in embarrassment as your eyes went wider while Bradley tried to squeeze through the crowd to get to you.

He was afraid you were going to try to sneak off, but you didn't. You were just nonchalantly drinking your beer when he reached you.

"That was quite a performance," he said, and you looked up at him, clearly amused.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you replied, but your smirk said otherwise.

"That was my song," he said, nodding toward the jukebox.

"What do you mean?" you asked, pressing the bottle to your lips, and drawing Bradley's eyes down to watch the way you took a sip, the bottle lingering on your bottom lip for a beat.

"I selected it. On the jukebox," he grunted, and you laughed at him.

"No, you didn't. I did."

Bradley scoffed as you squared your shoulders and jutted out your chin in playful defiance. "I chose it like three minutes ago," Bradley insisted.

"I picked it like five minutes ago!" Your laugh was infectious, and Bradley just wanted to keep it going.

He shook his head solemnly. "It's still my song."

And you shook your head, imitating him. "If anything, it's Jerry Lee Lewis's song."

"Well, I can't argue with that. I did love your cover version though."

"Thanks." God, your smile was adorable. And your lips on that bottle had him thinking some scandalous things about your mouth.

He cleared his throat. "Are you from Norfolk?"

You sighed deeply. "Unfortunately. You?"

"Virginia Beach."

You crinkled your nose and made a face that had him laughing again. "That might be even worse. You still live there?"

"For now," he replied. "I'm waiting on a new work assignment."

"Can I tell you a secret?" you asked, and when Bradley nodded, you coaxed him closer with your finger. Gorgeous. You were so pretty, Bradley was afraid he wouldn't be able to comprehend your words this close to your eyelashes and your mouth. "I escaped. I live in San Diego now."

"Bravo," he whispered, but he knew you could still hear him over the jukebox as it played Slow Ride. "What's it like to escape Virginia? I've only ever read about it in works of fiction. I've never met anyone who actually managed to do it."

You laughed again, and Bradley had to fight the urge to kiss you. He didn't even know your fucking name, but he was dying to feel your lips on his.

"It wasn't easy," you promised. "Oh, no, my friend, it was not easy. My whole family still lives here, in Norfolk. My brother is in the damn Navy, if you can believe that. What a waste of a career, right?" you said with a massive eye roll. Bradley opened his mouth to respond, but you added, "Today is his birthday. Born on the Fourth of July, in the military, model citizen. I come home for his birthday every year and end up in this shitty bar every year."

Bradley couldn't contain his smile. "I'm in the Navy."

Your eyes went wide. "Oh, shit. The Navy is the best!" you said brightly. "Oh boy, do I ever wish I had joined the Navy!"

Bradley tipped his head back and laughed harder. "I like you. You're brutally honest," he said, still laughing as you bit your lip, unable to stop smiling.

"I'm so sorry," you said, trying not to laugh. "Come here. Let me buy you another beer to make up for the fact that you're in the Navy, you poor thing."

Bradley just shook his head, but then you took his hand in yours and gently led him to the bar. And you kept your hand linked with his while you ordered two drinks. But when you started to reach into your pocket to pay, Bradley took both of your hands in his larger one, and you looked up at him, surprised.

"I've got it," he told you, pulling some cash out of his own pocket. "It's not every day you meet a celebrity."

"Celebrity?" you asked, and he pulled you closer by both hands.

"You escaped Virginia! Buying you a drink would have to give me good karma! Who knows, maybe I'll even get stationed somewhere new."

Bradley released your hands when the beers arrived, but you didn't move away from him. "Where do you want to get stationed?" you asked, and Bradley couldn't look away from the curve of your lips as you took the first sip from the bottle.

"Somewhere warm," he told you. "But I guess I could learn how to brave some cold weather if I had to."

When the woman behind you bumped into you, Bradley could feel the warmth from your body through his clothes. You were that close. He wanted you closer. And then you were snug up against the front of him. "Well, I think you're brave," you told him with wide, teasing eyes.

"Because I'm in the Navy?" he asked, taking a sip of his beer as you shook your head.

"No," you told him with a soft laugh. "Because you dare to sport a mustache. Almost nobody can pull that off." Now you were giggling as he ran his fingers along his facial hair.

"I think you're having a lot of fun at my expense here tonight," he told you. "I think you like me."

You were quiet for a few seconds, and Bradley's heart beat a little faster when you said, "I think you like me, too."

"What's not to like?" he whispered, and your eyes fluttered closed as he ran his fingers along your cheek. "You stole my song. You hate my job. You made fun of my facial hair. And you managed to hijack my escape from this state, because surely the odds of two of us getting out are just too high."

And then you kissed him. Just a soft brush of your lips to his. But it was perfect. And then the fireworks started outside, but you stayed right there with him, your hand coming to rest on his chest.

Everyone else rushed out to the deck or down along the water to watch the colorful display, even the bartender. But you didn't move an inch, and now Bradley was setting down his beer. This time he kissed you, and you nibbled on his lower lip as your other hand tangled in his hair. Bradley's hands went to your waist, as he tasted you. Beer and something kind of sweet.

"What's your name?" Bradley asked between kisses, and when you told him, the sound of it echoed through his mind. He whispered it back to you, against your lips as you dragged your fingernails along his scalp. "I'm Bradley."

"Hi, Bradley," you said with a smile between kisses. "I'm sorry I stole your song. And I actually think your mustache is cute."

He was smiling so much against your neck as he kissed you there. "I'm really happy I came to this shitty bar tonight."

"Me too," you gasped as he sucked on you there before returning his lips to yours. These hurried, needy kisses turned more languid as they slowed down. You had pushed Bradley back onto an empty stool, your palms on his splayed thighs as he stroked your neck and face while you kissed. Every little moan and gasp had him coaxing you closer, and then the fireworks ended. The other patrons started trickling back into the bar as your lips nudged his in one final kiss.

You pulled away from him, smiling and sliding your hands down to his knees. He leaned a little close to your face, ready to beg for one more kiss as he said, "Please, let me have your phone number."

You leaned in and kissed the corner or his lips before you backed away. Bradley was up out of the stool, chasing the warmth of your body, but you shook your head.

"That's not a good idea," you told him, gently pressing your palm to his chest, and it took you a few beats to meet his eyes. "And make you pine for me from afar?" you asked with a soft, teasing smile. "I couldn't live with that."

Bradley whispered your name about a dozen times in a row until your eyes closed. He kissed you softly and said, "I'm pretty sure I'll be doing that anyway. Pining for you."

You looked up at him, gaze darting between his lips and his eyes, almost like you were about to cave. But you shook your head and said, "You'll forget all about me by tomorrow."

Then someone called your name from the other side of the bar and stole your attention from him. And Bradley felt all the perfect flirtation and banter and kisses slipping through his grasp.

"I need to go," you told him, and you looked so sad. "I hope you escape Virginia."

He nodded slightly, running his thumb across your soft cheek one more time. "I know this sounds weird, but I'm going to miss you."

And then you kissed him again, as if you understood exactly what he meant. And then you were gone.

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

Bradley thought about you a lot. Sometimes he let your name grace his tongue with the sweet feel of it. Sometimes he would daydream about your laugh. But the moment he opened his mail in late August and read the line detailing the location of his new station, a slew of obscenities flew out of his mouth.

San Diego. He was going to be stationed in San Diego.

And he had no idea how to reach you. He only knew your first name. But he spent his first few months there hopeful that he would run into you somewhere. So he visited different grocery stores. He took different running tails. He went to the mall across town once. And each time he did one of those things, he felt ridiculous. Stupid. Idiotic. Until he remembered your smile and the way you made him feel so good while also poking fun at him.

As the months wore on, he went on dates and kissed other girls, but he still thought about you sometimes. When he listened to Jerry Lee Lewis, he pictured you singing into your beer bottle. When he drank a cheap beer, he could almost hear your laugh.

You had told him that you go to that same shitty bar every year on your brother's birthday. But just as Bradley purchased tickets for a roundtrip flight from San Diego to Norfolk, he realized you probably didn't even remember him. What was he going to do? Walk into that bar and tell you he missed you? You'd look at him like he was insane. Or worse, like you had no fucking clue who he was.

He thought about not going. Just letting the tickets go to waste. But at the very least, he would be able to visit his cousins for the night. At the very least, he might just be able to see you again, just for a minute.

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

You sat at the bar, across the room from your brother. You didn't know why you still bothered to come home for the weekend every year, but here you were. In Norfolk. Again.

As politely as you could, you turned down the red headed guy who tried to buy you a drink. And you did the same thing to the blond, too. Because now you associated this shithole bar with wavy, sandy brown hair and big, brown puppy eyes. And you weren't about to override your memories from one year ago with some random loser who wanted to buy you a can of Miller Lite.

You hoped Bradley was currently stationed somewhere warm, near a beach. It always made you smile to picture him with his feet in the sand, drinking a beer.

Your head swiveled to the jukebox as soon as you heard the opening piano chords of Great Balls of Fire playing, but there was just an older woman standing there snapping her fingers.

Your heart sank a bit as you settled back into your stool and sipped your beer. It would have been too good to be true, and you were ridiculous for even entertaining the thought. But then that raspy voice was behind you, saying your name and making goosebumps break out all across your skin.

When you turned and met his warm eyes, your mouth fell open. He was here. And he looked so handsome and nervous. And your heart was hammering too hard, making it difficult to talk.

"I don't know if you remember me," he said softly, looking at your face like you were the most precious thing he had ever seen. "But-"

"Bradley! How could I forget?" you breathed, and you watched his smile grow. "I was hoping you'd escape Virginia."

He laughed, and you wanted to kiss his mustache again. "I did. And I've been looking for you for ten months."

You leaned in a little closer and grinned. "Well I've been in San Diego."

"Me too," he said, and you tilted your head in question, but he just smiled more. "That's where I've been stationed since September."

"Oh!" you gasped. "You escaped to my city!"

"Mmhmm. And you made me come all the way back to shitty Norfolk, Virginia to find you."

You laughed. "You came back here for me?"

He nodded and stroked his fingers across your cheek just the way you remembered. "Yes. All I could think about was the way you told me you come here every year on this day. So I've been waiting months for the chance to try to see you again."

"That's really romantic," you told him, letting your palm come to rest on his chest.

He covered it with his as he said, "My full name is Bradley Bradshaw. I live in Coronado, California on Pomona Avenue. And if you're single, I'm not leaving here without your phone number."

You were clamoring off your stool before he even finished talking, and he welcomed you into his arms. And then you kissed him, just like you had a year ago, his body warm and perfect against yours. You told him your full name between kisses, running your fingers through his hair and melting into him. "And yes, you can have my phone number, Bradley Bradshaw."

He sighed against your cheek. "Even though I've been pining for you from afar?"

You laughed, remembering what you'd told him last year. "Apparently you've been pining for me from nearby. And that just won't do. Because I've thought about you... about the guy with the cute mustache who acted like he owns Jerry Lee Lewis's music catalog. About the only guy I ever kissed in the middle of a dive bar before I even knew his name," you whispered.

And then Bradley was kissing you again before he ended up sitting on the bar stool with you perched on his leg. He gave you his phone so you could save your number for him, and you sat like that until last call, just talking and laughing and occasionally kissing with the promise of more to come.

When you got back to your parents' house with your brother, your phone illuminated with a new text message.

Bradley Bradshaw: Meet me in San Diego.

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

They were both pining from afar! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls for putting up with me.

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i-will-be-there-one-day · 2 years ago

Text

Soo they both like each other and just need to talk….

It’s A GIRL!!!!!

Little Wonder: Chapter 5

Summary: A flashback of the fateful night reminds you that some things never change. The most important question gets answered. It is a....

Pairing: Lt. Jake “Hangman” Seresin X Lt. Y/N “Tiger” Wood (OC Last Name/Call Sign)

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: Cursing. Smut (18+ Only May Enter) Unprotected PiV Intercourse. Kinda public smut?

AN: Thank you to the reader who caught my error. I apologize for it and the extra tagging.

Navigation: Previous Chapter | Little Wonder Masterlist | Next Chapter

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Before the events of Top Gun: Maverick

“After all these years, you still won’t give him a second chance?” Penny asked patting your arm to draw your eyes away from your favorite green-eyed aviator.

“He had his chance. Threw it in the fucking mud.” You snorted slamming your beer down on the counter, before throwing an apology to Penny. She gave a motherly look before looking over at the man of the hour.

“Tiger, you aren’t the most forgiving person either,” Penny warned as she took the beer from your hand and wiped the counter off the underneath it before sitting it on a coaster.

“No. I’m not. And it’s because of him.” You huffed, feeling the slight prick of tears threatening to make their way onto your cheeks.

“Did you tell him how you felt?” She asked pointedly.

“Well, I guess-”

“Did you tell Hangman how you feel? It’s a yes or no question.” She asked, stopping you from coming up with another excuse.

“No. But I assumed he understood how I felt.” You admitted shrugging and Penny let out a small laugh.

“You know what they say about assumptions.” Penny finished as her eyes caught the man of the hour strutting his way over. “Heads up.” She patted the counter and you sat up straighter. Taking a big breath as a warm hand found the broad side of your back.

“Is the mighty Tigress still licking her wounds from our pool game?” Jake asked moving into the space beside you, turning to face you and block someone if they sat in the seat behind him.

“My ego doesn’t ride on a pool game.” You hissed and Jake didn’t even flinch as he asked for another beer, his bright green shirt worked well with his eyes.

“No, but it does ride on a game of darts. Come play with me.” Jake asked as Penny gave him another beer with a shamrock sticker on it. Really the only sign that today was a holiday.

St. Paddy’s Day.

“Fine, but when I inevitably kick your ass, my entire tab is on you.” You moved off the stool and blindly followed Jake over to the dart board.

“And when I win, you come back to my place afterward.” Jake sat both of your beers on the table after gently taking it from your hand.

“That wasn’t up for- You can’t just force a-” Jake held a hand up, the look on his face should’ve told you that you had the wrong idea.

“I have about a few Tupperware containers from you. You always leave them in your locker on the weekends” Jake explained and your face felt hot from embarrassment. His proud smirk almost earned him a broken nose.

“That’s where those have been going to?! I thought there was a damn ghost in the locker room.” You huffed, trying to play off your embarrassment.

“Yeah, You are the ghost. That shit stinks. Forgetful much?” Jake laughed and you shrugged, not sure how you would forget them. Always ready to bail out for the weekend you guessed.

“Quit stalling, my beer is getting warm.” You took the dart from him and stood up nice and tall as you started to decide how best to aim it. Biting down on your tongue to steady yourself you tossed the first dart and it lands just beside the bullseye.

“Not bad.” Jake shrugged as he took a swig of the beer as you tossed the second one.

You took in a breath to steady your hand but lost focus when you felt a hand breeze across your lower back. Tossing it just as it drifted over your spine. It landed just outside the main center ring. Not bad, but not good enough. You knew Jake could nail three bullseyes if he really wanted to.

“At least you kept it on the board.” Jake teased and you glanced over your shoulder, narrowing at his remarks before snatching the last dart off the old wooden table.

You needed to get a bullseye to at least threaten Jake’s win. He had already had an entire beer from when he had walked in so you had a good chance of winning even without a perfect score.

Just as you were about to release your third and final dart, something knocked your elbow sending the final dart way to the outside of the board.

“Hey! That’s cheating!” You huffed turning to look at Jake who had his eyes elsewhere before looking back with a fake shock on his face.

But you could read through his facade in a heartbeat. The flash of mischievousness across his eyes told you everything you needed to know. He had intentionally knocked your arm to make you lose.

“I don’t know what you are talking about. I wasn’t even paying attention.” Jake smirked with a casual shrug as he walked up to the dartboard and pulled your three off. Handing them back to you before picking up his blue darts.

Did you get a little distracted watching him roll them between his fingers as he took another drink of his beer?…. maybe.

“Yes, you do. And I’m the sore loser-” You stopped watching Jake easily nail the center with his first toss. But you held your breath, surely the alcohol would kick in and make the last two fly off.

You leaned against the table, grumbling about his stupid aim. You even went as far as to attempt to bump your hip into his, but a warm large hand grabbed at it. Stopping you just as the second dart sunk into the center of the dartboard. But despite the dart leaving his hand, your hip did not.

“Okay, you absolutely rigged this game in your favor.” You started to grumble and Jake turned to face you, his hand looping through the belt loop of your khaki uniform to hold you in place. The combination of his cocky smirk and raised brow as you whined about it being unfair.

“Won’t even look this time.” Jake kept his eyes locked onto yours. You could see just on the edge of your vision his forearm lean back, steady for a moment, before releasing.

Perfect fucking bullseye.

You didn’t even have time to open your mouth to retort or back out of the deal. Jake had turned towards the bar and made strides, holding his arm out to stop you from slamming into the bar in your moment of fury and embarrassment horniness.

“Penny, my dear, please close Tiger and mine’s tab.” He asked, handing her his card as you walked over in a huff.

“You didn’t win that fair and square.” You hissed and Jake leaned up against the bar, his stupid smirk plastered across his face.

“I didn’t say if I win fair and square,” Jake answered as he held out his hand still for Penny, she eyed you for a minute, waiting for some sort of confirmation. Though she had seen the whole scene go down.

You scrunched up your nose, eyeing the people around before turning back to her and nodding with a huff. Penny couldn’t hide her smirk as she pulled up both tabs, swiped the card, and handed it back to Jake.

“You two take care,” Penny warned as Jake walked over to the front door of the Hard Deck and held the door open with his foot.

Despite his macho attitude, you knew if you dug your heels in and refused to go, Jake would let it go. Always the Southern gentleman at the end of the day.

“Are you coming, Tiger?” Jake asked his signature smirk on as you dug your nails claws into your palm as you stomped past him, grumbling about that you were coming.

The trip to Jake’s place was short and despite your best attempts, you did feel a little bit of comfort in being in Jake’s truck. Like you had been transported back to your time at Top Gun when everyone was still just baby aviators trying to make a name for themselves.

For one reason or another, both Jake and you gravitated toward the other. Maybe because you both could talk about football for hours on end or maybe he was the only one willing to go toe to toe with you when you were angry. You had spent many nights in the passenger seat of Jake’s truck. Eating things you probably shouldn’t have and talking like old friends.

This is why his sudden attachment to a pretty red-headed barracks bunny and his blatant excuses not to hang out with you dug a deep wound in your heart. A wound you were still trying to stitch up every time you hung out with him.

But things could be different. You were back for a new mission. Something top secret. And it had been at least three years since the last time you and Jake had been in this truck together. The original culprit barracks bunny no longer being a thing in his life either gave you more hope than it should have.

You turned the keys in the lock and stepped inside, thankful to be home and out of the stuff bar. You loved the Hard Deck, but nothing beat home.

“Have a look, I don’t have it.” You blatantly called out, gesturing to the bookshelf of movies that sat right beside the tv. You walked through the living room to head into the kitchen to get a bottle of water. Wanting to sober up a little.

“Tiger!” You heard Jake’s voice boom as he came walking into the kitchen, box set of movies in hand. His brows raised as he walked over to you. “Care to explain?”

“How do you know those aren’t my own copies?” You asked as Jake stepped in front of you. He sat the box set of DVDs down on the counter and popped one of the movies open. His name written in silver sharpie on the inside was all the evidence needed.

“Told you I would find them here,” Jake smirked as he sat the movie down but didn’t remove himself from your space. You caught it. His eyes darted down to your lips before meeting yours again.

“Clearly they weren’t that important to you if you let me keep them this long. Instead, you used them as a reason to cheat in a game of darts.” You added, taking another sip of your water bottle. Jake gently took it from your hand and moved it back to the kitchen island you were leaning against. So much for sobering up a little.

“Do you ever stop running your mouth?” Jake asked, his arms moving in closer to you.

“Does Hangman ever not cheat-”

Jake’s mouth crashed on yours with almost a violent force. Enough to silence you and bring you into him somehow more. Your hands reached up to his shirt and gripping onto it as he pressed even closer to you. There was a desperate need to assert power between you two. It was a battleground for conflicting emotions and your temper.

When he finally pulled away, you both were huffing a little. Chests rising and falling as you attempted to calm your heart.

“Finally shut that mouth up of yours,” Jake commented triumphantly with his smirk.

“You can’t-” His lips were on yours again. The kiss turning into a release of pent-up frustrations. Letting you both express your feelings without sending an insult towards the other.

Jake’s hands moved from their solid spot on the counter to your shirt just as his lips moved from yours to the soft skin of your neck. Never gave you any space to move or any time to say something snarky as he bit down on your neck with enough force you knew there would be a mark.

“Open that mouth again and I’ll find another use for it,” Jake warned…

“Yes sir.” You smirked and suddenly his hands were lifting off your shirt and tossing it elsewhere.

Present Day

Looking back on that night, you should’ve known that Jake and you would always have clashes. Your temper and his need to get be… well him.. made for some interesting conversations.

You were just sitting in your office, reminiscing to kill time till the end of the day. The radio connected to your office told you that Maverick was running flights with the Dagger Squad and they would be done eventually.

“Hope your dad doesn’t get his ass kicked too bad.” You commented to the little bean, rubbing your belly while wondering what past you would think about future situations.

You decided to attempt to answer some last-minute emails before the end of the day and try to get things organized for the next day when what would start the next wildfire between you and Jake got its spark.

One of the mechanics knocked on your door asking for some help with maintenance on a jet.

“We just need a pilot to sit in the cockpit and give us readings while we change something. Would you be able…” The mechanic seemed to attempt to point toward your stomach

“I can fit in it still.” You sighed glancing down at your flight suit that still fits your belly with lots of wiggle room.

You grabbed your helmet which had started to gather a bit of dust on its resting rack and followed the mechanic out into the hangar.

“What’s wrong with her?” You asked taking a little longer to climb into the cock pit and settle into the aircraft. Your helmet felt like an old friend as you glanced over the controls.

“One of the ailerons is acting up.” The young mechanic explained as he disappeared under the jet.

You waited, watching other planes take off and land. Enjoying the bit of the breeze that entered the open cockpit while you waited for instructions. Content on just helping the mechanics and finally getting to sit in a cockpit once again.

You were trying to remember if you had gotten your grocery order in when a voice startled you in the cockpit.

“What the hell are you doing in the seat?!” Jake’s voice rang out from right on the nose of the plane.

“Working.” You answered, brows furrowing a bit at his tone.

Jake looked like he had just climbed out of one of the landing jets. His usually well-kept hair was in chaos from being under his helmet. Sweat and the heat from being inside made his cheeks shine with sweat.

“You aren’t supposed to be in a jet. Doctor’s orders remember?” Jake growled walking over towards the wings to be closer to you.

“She said no extreme G’s. I’m only sustaining gravity at the moment, Hangman.” You hissed, confused about why he had his boxers in a twist.

“Get out. Now.” Jake ordered and your brows disappeared into your helmet.

“Drop the attitude before I knock it out of you, Hangman.” You growled back as a mechanic appeared in your peripherals.

Jake followed your line of sight and snapped around to glare at the mechanic. Who stood almost two whole heads shorter than Jake.

“We are all good here, thanks Lt.” He quickly stated before disappearing back into the safety of the hangar. Jake slowly turned back to face you.

“Out.” He ordered and now he was starting to piss you off.

“Maybe I’ll just take it for a test flight.” You commented, reaching down like you were going to flip the ignition on.

“Tiger…” Jake only managed to draw out your name in a tone that told you that you were teetering on the edge of his patience. Luckily for you, Phoenix and Rooster appeared from somewhere inside the hangar.

“I don’t like it when mom and dad fight…” Phoenix teased, which of course just lit a fire under Jake’s ass.

Jake turned to scorn them both for Phoenix's comment. Since both of them were squabbling, you took the opportunity to climb out of the jet on your own. Landing right behind Jake and starting to walk towards Phoenix.

“Hey… there’s a… meeting for all pilots in the locker room. You two coming?” Phoenix asked Jake and Rooster who both turned. Jake’s eyes rolled seeing you out of the jet and smirking at him.

“What’s the meeting about?” You asked falling in line with Phoenix.

Without having to turn around, you could feel a certain Texan’s presence right on your backside. His boots clipped the back of yours a few times.

Dick. You thought he must’ve had a bad flight if he was really trying to pick a fight with you. Especially after a good few weeks you two have had together.

Phoenix stepped aside to let you in first to the locker room and with Jake close on your tail, it didn’t take much before both of you were in the room.

“Can you get off my ass? I’m out of the fucking jet now, alright?” You hissed turning to face up to Hangman. His own face was red with anger.

“You shouldn’t have been in it in the first place.” Jake pointed out, growling himself as he took a step towards you.

“Did Rooster kick your ass today? Is that why you’re being a dickhead?” You asked, knowing it would get him to spit out whatever his problem was. You both started laying into each other.

The obnoxious squeak of the locker room and Bradley’s chuckle caught your attention. Your head snapped towards the door and you opened your mouth.

“Why are you-”

“You two work it out!” Rooster called out, catching Jake’s attention as he shut and locked the door. Phoenix standing beside him with a shit-eating grin, waving through the little window.

“This is your fault.” You hissed turning back to face up to Jake. Jake’s brows were furrowed as he ran a hand over his face.

“If you would’ve just gotten out-” Jake started, but you quickly interrupted him with your own question.

“Do you really think I would be reckless enough to put our kid-” You started, but Jake stepped towards you. Silencing your words.

To keep some distance from him you took a step away, but soon your back landed on the concrete wall between sets of lockers. Jake followed pursuit, wanting until you were flush against the wall before he put both hands on either side of your head. His brows were deep enough to cast a shadow over his green eyes and his nostrils flared like a horse that had just got done running a race.

For a moment, time stood still. Both of you are on the opposite side of the battlefield waiting for the first person to make a move. His green eyes narrowed at you before he spoke.

“Well?” You asked, swallowing a little harder than you expected, you hadn’t seen angry Jake since you were back in Top Gun. Your mighty internal tiger seemed to be quieting down.

Jake let out one snort like a bull before he glanced over his shoulder towards the door. You could practically hear the cogs turning in his head. Pretty sure if you looked close enough, you would see steam. But something lower had caught your attention, something was making its presence known in a little tent in the flight suit.

And per your usual style, you just couldn’t keep your mouth shut. It was almost as if the invitation was right there.

“If you are just going to trap me in here-”

Just like five months ago, Jake’s lips were suddenly on yours with the same force. The same passion and irritation behind it this time too.

When you felt your lungs starting to burn from the lack of oxygen, he pulled away. His thick fingers started to yank down the zipper of your flight suit and just like those months ago, you didn’t fight it as much as you probably should’ve. Jake’s kisses always put your head into a tailspin. And no matter how much you tried to avoid a crash, you somehow always ended up in his bed.

“So that’s where that shirt went?” Jake asked as you pushed the sleeves of the flight suit off and revealed his black Texas Longhorn shirt.

“You left-” Another kiss while clearly not ready to hear another snippy comment fall from your lips.

“Shut it. I’ve heard enough. You win. Just let me fuck you, alright?” Jake asked, his tone harsh as his eyes finally met yours. The tops of his cheeks were pink and his breaths were more shallow. He liked it when you argued. He really liked it.

They were blown wide with lust while his hands slipped underneath your shirt and started to squeeze your breasts over your sports bra.

“Yes sir.” You answered with a playful smirk, reaching to unzip his flight suit, Jake let out a sigh before helping you. Deciding to let those words slide.

In truth, this was a dance you and Jake had come close to every time he would hang over at the house or during movie nights at his. Always toeing that line. You were never sure if he was just worried about the baby or if he didn’t want to. Sometimes the idea of letting him stick the offensive member back inside of you was the last thing you could ever want.

That wasn’t the case today.

With your arms wrapped around his neck as you both enjoyed your first make-out session since the little bean was created, you hiked your leg up around his waist. Jake leaned down to pull the other leg up to wrap it behind his back.

One hand gripped your thigh while his fingers found your clothed core. Rubbing over it for a moment before diving past your panties to slide one of his thick fingers in. Earning a moan from you and a grin from him. His lips moved to your neck while he fingered you.

You had to bite your lip to keep from drawing any attention to the locker room. You hoped Rooster and Phoenix just left and assumed you two would realize the door was unlocked. You hoped they were just outside waiting to hear the screaming that would be moans and slaps of skin soon.

You should've been embarrassed that you were already wet just from arguing with Jake. But the man just did things to you. Somethings not even the gods could explain.

Jake’s cheeks were pink as pulled away from marking your neck to pull his cock out from his boxers. You audibly heard a grunt of frustration from him seeing his hands were full and something was in the way of what he wanted.

“Need some help here, baby.” He asked trying to push the head of his cock into you but your panties were always springing back into place. Soon you pushed them aside and he took that as a checkered flag to slide into you.

You both let out a moan when he was into the hilt. Fitting that even months after your last interaction, he still stretched you to the perfect amount. Just like that day. Jake moved his hands to grip the thicker parts of your thigh towards your ass as his lips found yours again.

At first, it took a moment to find a rhythm that made both of you turn into a moaning mess, but once Jake did, everything was off to the races. It felt like he was pounding into you to release all the anger and irritation he had built up that day.

Some from his flying today. Some towards his co-workers. And some even towards you.

Despite being the reason behind his pounding headache, he still wanted to make sure you were going to be satisfied. Jake pushed you flush against the wall to help with balancing as his hand moved to rub your clit while he set up a relentless pattern.

After what felt like more than just a few minutes, both of you were cumming. Your moans echo off the silent locker room. Both of your faces were sweaty as your chests rose and fell catching your breaths.

Jake leaned forward and pressed his forehead towards yours, his eyes closing as he knew he would eventually have to put you down. Even his strength had limits.

“I’m sorry.” He finally huffed out, his eyes still closed but he knew you heard him. Your hands found their way to his chest and ran up and over them to his shoulders. “I’m sorry too.” You admitted, Jake felt the breath of your sigh across his features.

“Can I still go to the appointment tomorrow?” Jake asked, finally lifting his head up to meet your eyes. The once lust-blown ones were replaced with the soft green ones you hoped the bean would have.

“Yes. But only… if you spend the night. It’s an early appointment and I don’t want to be late.” You asked, and Jake could tell by you picking at minuscule fuzz that you were nervous about asking him. He was never late, but he would let you use that as an excuse.

“Of course. Let’s get cleaned up before Rooster kills us.” Jake huffed with a laugh as he looked around for something to wipe up the mess with. His locker was not that far away but he knew if he pulled out, it would go everywhere.

“This is why condoms are handy…” You muttered and Jake’s head snapped back towards you with an eye roll.

“I was trying to save you the mess,” Jake answered suddenly pulling out and letting your legs drop.

Of course, thanks to Jake’s award-winning fucking, your knees weren’t exactly ready to act so you stumbled as soon as you tried to move. Jake came to the rescue and held out his hands to steady you.

“Going to change your name to Bambi..” He teased and earned an eye roll from you this time.

After grabbing his towel in his locker and cleaning up the mess, you two pulled your flight suits back on and headed out of the locker room. Hand in hand. You didn’t spot any of the other dagger members so maybe the sex smell would dissipate out of the locker room.

~~~~~~~

The technician skillfully prepared the ultrasound equipment, spreading a cool gel on your belly. As the cold touch met your skin, you flinched slightly, eliciting a soft chuckle from Jake, who was trying to lighten the mood. His eyes were fixed on you, filled with affection and wonderment.

You felt like your heart was going to just beat out of your chest. You were always nervous during ultrasounds. What if they found something was wrong? What if you couldn’t hear the baby’s heartbeat? What if? But with a gentle squeeze of your hand in Jake’s, you felt a little calmer. Jake stood dutifully by the bed. You glanced up at him and smiled to show you were okay. Jake gave a wink before turning his attention back up to the monitor.

The ultrasound probe glided gently over your belly, and soon the room filled with the soft whooshing sounds of their baby's heartbeat. Strong and steady. Your eyes followed the movement of the monitor, waiting for a glimpse of your little one.

You marveled at every tiny feature, each flutter of movement that appeared on the screen. Wondering what little person they would become in the not-so-distant future.

“Looks like baby is growing exactly how we want them to.” The technician explained as she pushed and prodded around your belly, trying to get measurements.

You watched as she labeled the head and the legs with individual shots. Of course, the little one flopped around and made any important shots nearly impossible to get. But you just watched for their little profile.

“Look, it’s their little face!” You sighed seeing the cute little button nose and lips when the ultrasound move around a bit. The technician took a shot and labeled them.

“So are we wanting the baby’s gender to be a surprise? Am I supposed to write it down?” The technician asked as she glanced between you and Jake.

“You can already tell?” Jake asked a little surprised by the technician's smile.

“I already know. But it’s your choice.” She asked moving around to take a few more measurements while you and Jake shared a look.

He smiled with a nod before you turned back towards the technician.

“We want to know.” You answered confidently and the lady nodded. Moving the ultrasound wand back over to between your child’s legs and stopping it when she knew she could show it.

“See anything?” She asked circling the screen near where they would be something if it was a boy.

“Nope,” Jake said, his eyes squinting trying to make something out. The lady laughed a little bit before moving her cursor over to it.

“Means it’s a little girl.” She said, typing on the picture “BABY GIRL!” as further proof.

You looked over to Jake who was laughing quietly to himself, shaking his head. He looked up to meet your eyes.

“Guess it’s time to open a zoo.” You rolled your eyes before he leaned over to press a kiss to your lips as she printed out the picture and handed it to you.

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i-will-be-there-one-day · 2 years ago

Text

This series is so adorable 🥰 🥰🥰

Little Wonder: Chapter 4

Summary: Tiger finally seems to come to terms with her feelings and invites Jake over. Her ferocious temper finally seems to be calming down as she spends more time around the cool and calm Hangman. Tiger and Jake also attend the first ultrasound together and get to see their little wonder together.

Pairing: Lt. Jake “Hangman” Seresin X Lt. Y/N “Tiger” Wood (OC Last Name/Call Sign)

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Jake being Jake. Cursing. Unplanned pregnancy. Arguing. 18+ Only May Enter.

A/N: Did I beta read this thoroughly? Probably not. But it's World Wildlife Day and it seemed right to post a chapter about Tiger & Hangman. 🐅

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In hindsight, you should’ve just called him and explained your feelings. Rather than dancing around the absolutely feral thoughts you had been having about Jake for the past few days.

“I’m going to kiss you, Tiger. Okay?” Jake announced, just barely above a whisper.

The whole moment was seared into your brain. You had replayed it a dozen times now. You had given him a smile before escaping into the safety of your habitat and closing the door.

Somehow, you guessed due to training and his own life, you and Jake had yet to cross paths as much. Your appointment was tomorrow but… maybe you were craving his presence a little more than you would like to admit. Maybe it was the kid’s fault. Yeah, you were gonna blame the kid for this.

“Y/N…. are you even listening to me?” Your friend asked over the phone while you had been discussing your hometown’s latest disaster.

“Yeah. Hey, I gotta go, I still need to go to the store today. I’ll call you later, okay?” You barely got the sentence out before you hung up. You would surely get an earful later about it but something else had drawn your attention.

The little plush elephant sitting on your mantle, waiting for the crib to arrive. You bit your lip before glancing back down at your phone.

‘Just text him, you coward.’ You scorned yourself before deciding to be a big girl and just text your baby daddy. Or boyfriend? Or friend? You weren’t sure what label to slap on Jake at the moment.

Tiger: Hey

Hangman: Hey. Is everything okay with the kid?

Tiger: Yeah. Are you busy?

Hangman: No. Why?

Now you sat on the fence that you had willingly climbed up onto. Do you take the risk of just saying how you feel or do you back off and continue to deal with the thoughts in your head?

You took the first option.

Tiger: I miss you.

You tossed your phone onto the other side of the couch, embarrassed like a schoolyard girl. Like it was a grenade with the pin pulled, ready to blow up in your face any moment. Your cheeks were so hot you were sure you could bake cookies on them. You closed your eyes and just waited. Waited for the ridicule of the ghost in your living room. Just a few moments later, you felt the buzzing of your phone. As if someone was calling you. As you retrieved the phone grenade, you turned it over to see Jake’s profile picture popping up on your screen.

Just a handful of streets over, Jake stood dumbfounded looking down at his phone.

I miss you.

His first thought was to respond back with ‘I miss you too’ but he floundered for a moment.

He started to type something in response, but none of them seemed appropriate with that sort of landmine text. Deciding his speaking voice would come across better than his texting voice, he called you.

“Hey…” You said, your voice soft and uneven over phone lines, Jake could tell you were unsure at this moment.

“Hey, sweets… Mind if I come over to your place?.” He asked, trying to lay on the southern drawl as much as possible. And tossing in the pet name for good measure.

“Yeah. Only if you promise to not notice the dishes in my sink.” You added, smiling a bit to yourself that Jake was taking a bit of the lead.

“Only if you let me do laundry at your place? My machine is acting up and I’m out of socks.” Jake asked, wondering if having a reason other than seeing you would help you feel less nervous. Less the center of attention.

“That’s fine. The front door is unlocked so you can come in.” You explained jumping up to check your laundry unit to see if it was empty.

“Tiger… you can not keep your doors unlocked. Please tell me that this isn’t a regular occurrence.” Jake pleaded as he grabbed his laundry basket and supplies. Tossing it into the backseat of his truck before climbing into the driver’s seat.

“I will neither confirm nor deny that information, Hangman.” You smirked glancing down at your outfit and decided to make yourself a little more presentable. Changing into leggings and a clean t-shirt.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Jake sighed before hanging up and driving over a little too fast for any cop to be happy. But he was not going to let you back out of letting him into your little space.

You tried to look casual sitting on your couch as a gentle knock on your front door and the sounds of the door hinges creaking told you Jake was here.

“Jake?” You called out as his head popped around the corner, that stupid smirk on his face as he carried in the basket of clothes.

“Just me, Y/N” Jake called out as he set the basket down in the middle of your living room. Pausing to look around and take in your space.

“I see the street signs didn’t confuse you too much.” You teased standing up and starting to pull his basket toward your laundry room. Jake was close in tow picking up the basket and following you to the laundry room.

“I never noticed how much bigger your place is than mine. How’d you get this sweet place?” Jake asked as he watched you sort through his items, tossing them into the washer.

The laundry room was barely big enough to fit the machines and you so he decided just to stand by and watch in case you needed help.

“Luck?” You answered with a shrug as you added the detergent and checked the pocket of his pants.

“I can do my own laundry, ya know…” Jake’s hands attempted to reach in but you swatted them away.

“The bleach stains on some of your shirts say otherwise. I’m sure your southern mama did all your laundry for you, didn’t she?” You asked with a smirk as you hit a few buttons on the machines before attempting to escape the tiny laundry room.

But Jake’s enormous form stood in the doorway.

“She likes… to take care of me.” Jake huffed before moving his arm down further on the trim, effectively trapping you in the space. A heartbeat passed and both of you just stood there.

“Seresin…” You said, looking up to meet his eyes. Curious as to what his game plan was, your silver tongue was ready to come up with something.

“I… missed you too.” He admitted, his cheeks were dusted with pink so you knew he wasn’t lying or teasing you.

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, trying to decide what to say to him but eventually just gave a smile.

“Rendered speechless… Kinda like the night we made the kid.” Jake teased and you felt better now that the moment had passed and you could return to the teasing.

“I’ll refrain from busting your nose for that comment. Move.” You ordered trying to shove Jake but he didn’t bulge.

“Can I have a kiss instead?” Jake asked, ever the gentleman.

“I can’t reach you so-” You started but were soon met with Jake’s lips on yours again. His hand gently cupped your chin to bring you in close. Every time this man kissed you, you fell a little harder for his stupid face.

“Wasn’t so bad was it?” Jake teased after pulling away, grinning like a fool at how flustered you seemed as he stepped aside and let you through. You stepped through the doorway and headed towards your office.

“I have something to show you.” You called out, still reeling from the kiss. Jake caught up with you easily and followed you into your office.

“Glad to see this room in the light,” Jake commented, looking around at all the pictures of you and your family at zoos and lots of beautiful photography photos of wildlife. A few plants hung out on the windowsill. Mostly flowers and some ivy.

“I’m turning it into the nursery. I figured you should get to see it before the chaos ensues.” You explained sitting down in your office chair, your belly more prominent in just your t-shirt.

“What else do we need to get for the little one?” Jake asked sitting down on the armchair you had in the room. Glancing around a few fixtures he would need to fix.

“Honestly…I don’t know. I know I need a car seat. And like a stroller. But I don’t really talk to my mom anymore. Long story. So I don’t know who to even ask. Google gives me a million different answers.” You sighed heavily. Jake pondered for a moment before standing up and holding out his hand.

“Let’s call my mom.” Jake offered and you recoiled your hand that was getting ready to take his.

“Are you insane? Did you huff too much jet fuel? I’ve never met the woman and you want me to drop the bomb of a grandbaby on her over the phone? She has no clue who I am.” You hissed and Jake shook his head before kneeling down near your chair, holding it so you couldn’t roll away from him.

“She knows about you,” Jake said and you furrowed your brows in confusion.

“How…” You asked and Jake took a heavy breath before sitting down on the carpet.

“I talk about you. And when you told me you were pregnant, I told her.” Jake explained and you started to say something but Jake stopped you. “I had no clue what to do. You left me out on the line and I didn’t know who else to talk to about it without embarrassing you. She’s in Texas, it’s not like she would tell anyone here. I told her to keep it a secret.” Jake explained further and you closed your eyes.

Trying to lower your blood pressure. But Jake, unfortunately, was right. You left him to real in the revelation that you had already come to terms with.

But all now that replaced your boiling anger was absolute fear about this woman’s thoughts of you. Back when it was just a little crush on Jake, you wondered if you would ever meet the southern mama he adored. Wondered if you would be a girl good enough for her only son.

“Does she hate me?” You asked finally after a moment, tears ready to spill over. You clenched your hands together as Jake stood up quickly and took them in his.

“No. She’s honestly been begging to meet you. I tell her everything. You should’ve heard her chew me out when I told her about our arguments. You kinda remind me of her.” Jake teased and now you were actually crying, but more of relief than fear.

“I’ve ruined her perfect little boy.” You laughed a bit through the tears as you wiped them away. “I guess we can call her.” You said with a shrug.

Jake gently took your hand, leading you out to the living room and sitting on your couch. He patted the spot beside him as he called up his mother on FaceTime and waited for her to answer.

“Yes? Did you forget how to-OH? Well hello Jake and Y/N.” His mother’s array of emotions in a moment as she took in her son and the woman beside him on the couch. She clearly had her feathers ruffled as she fixed her hair and tried to smile.

“Hi, Mama. I figured it was time to introduce you to, Y/N. Y/N, this is mama.” Jake gestured as he moved to hold the phone in one hand while the other rested on the couch behind you.

“Hi, Mrs. Seresin. It’s nice to finally meet you.” You squeaked out, trying to stop crying more.

“Oh call me Mary. Or Mama. We are family now after all… how are you feeling sweetie?” She asked, the background behind her signaling that she had moved to a couch herself.

“Emotional.” You answered with a laugh as you wiped your face of tears.

“I bet. I had such mood swings with this boy.” She teased as you glanced at Jake who had been watching you this entire time.

“We called to ask for advice on what to get for the baby. Y/N already got a crib, but we are both a little lost on what to do next.” Jake offered as you nodded.

“Well, clothes never hurt. But not just newborn clothes. Like things for when it’s older too. A swing, Jake loved his swing. Actually… I might have a lot of Jake’s baby things. Would you want some of it, Y/N? Of course, I’ll clean it and everything.” Mary offered and you nodded.

“Only if you’re willing to part with it.” You answered and she nodded.

“I’ll take a look in the attic and see what I still have. Oh, I am so glad to finally get to talk to you. I have been just about ready to bang down Jake’s door to see how you were doin'.” She cooed and you shrugged.

“I don’t make things easy for him.” You admitted, knowing Jake had truly been working uphill to make things work.

“Well, Jake’s mouth doesn’t help either. How many weeks along are you?” She asked.

“Almost thirteen. We are getting ready to go and maybe hear the heartbeat on the ultrasound at the next appointment.” You responded, feeling Jake’s hand touch your opposite shoulder.

“Oh, how sweet! When Jake’s father and I went to that appointment, we went and bought the first little outfit together to celebrate.” She offered and you smiled at the idea.

“Cause then it was real, right?” You asked and she nodded.

“Oh yes. Very real. Enjoy that moment, together.” She emphasized and you nodded.

Jake just sat back and watched as the two most important women in his life at the moment hit it off almost instantly. He really didn’t have to add much to the conversation. You were able to ask any and all the questions you have. Jake was getting texts of various things on Amazon to get you. He just watched you. Watched the usual temperamental Tiger, and relax as she got some solid advice from someone trustworthy, who had been through it before. And just as he tuned back into the conversation, he heard of some dates being discussed.

“I’ll work with Jake on a date I can come up and visit. If you want me to be there when it arrives, I’ll be there. Come hell or high water, alright?” Mary offered and you nodded, feeling some of the weight off your chest.

“Alright mama, we’ll call and talk to you later. I gotta feed these two.” Jake teased as he gestured towards you and the baby.

“Alright. Don’t you give her any more trouble, Jake! Do you hear me? She has my number now so I’ll know! And you take a nap sweetie!” Mary warned and Jake nodded before exchanging goodbyes and hanging up.

“Thank you, for calling her.” You said as Jake put his phone back in his pocket and turned towards you.

“Told you she would be helpful. She knows everything I swear.” Jake teased and you agreed.

“If she raised you, I’m sure you put her through the ringer.” You answered with a yawn as you heard the washer beeping signaling that it was done. Just as you started to rise up off the couch, Jake stopped you.

“I’m sure I can figure out the dryer. You figure out what we are eating for dinner.” Jake ordered handing you his phone as he opened up DoorDash.

You watched Jake’s back as he walked away from you, enjoying the muscles playing peek-a-boo under the t-shirt before turning back to the food ordering app.

While you and Jake waited for your food to arrive, you convinced Jake to watch your favorite show, The Zoo, which of course was on Animal Planet. This particular episode was about Lynx kittens and alligators.

“I have learned more about animals this past week than I ever have in my life.” Jake teased helping you get the Italian food you had ordered. Sitting down beside you while you both chowed down and watched the cute little kittens.

“Animals are just as fascinating as jets to me. I like the complexity of jets and the wonder of animals.” You explained as you finished your meal and rested back against the couch.

“You are a complicated woman, Tiger.” Jake teased as he wiped his mouth off and relaxed on the couch. You gave a nod as the story changed to focusing on some lions.

He glanced out of the corner of his eyes and watched as your eyes closed. Now being full, calm, and comfortable you were finally seeming to relax around him. None of the animal sounds on the show seemed to bother you and Jake wondered if that’s what you would fall asleep to. With a gentle tug, Jake pulled you to lean up into him.

“I’m awake…” You grumbled as you tried to repel the movement. But Jake tucked you into his warm side and wrapped an arm around you.

“I know. You saw those lemurs, right?” Jake casually tossed out an animal in hopes of keeping you in a sleep-like state. You turned your face into his chest and nodded.

“Yeah, lemurs sing in groups together…” You mumbled as Jake agreed while gently picking up the remote and turning it onto something sports.

Jake was into the fourth inning of a ballgame when he got a text from his mother and realized what time it was. He did have to get still to work early before he would get to go with you to the appointment. After shutting off the TV, he started the ever-slow process of picking you up and carrying you into your bedroom. He waited for a moment before he was sure you were going to stay asleep before he left your bedroom. Shutting the door behind him.

The laundry had a few more moments until it was done so he quietly put the dishes into the dishwasher and got it started just as the dryer beeped at him. He could tell that you kept a clean house besides letting the dishes pile a bit. Everything was well organized and clean, which he appreciated knowing his house was a complete bachelor pad. If he could ever convenience you to come over to his place, he would have to step up his game.

After loading his laundry into his truck, he locked your door and left. Already looking forward to seeing his kid on the ultrasound with you tomorrow.

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

You sat in the waiting room, biting at your nails in anxiousness. Jake’s hand reached over and pulled your hand away from your mouth. Disregarding the snarky comment you made as he held your hand near him. He was scrolling on his phone and watching the weather forecast on the lobby room TV while you two waited.

“I’m nervous. What if something is wrong?” You asked Jake, picking at your jeans.

“Nothing is wrong. Our kid came from the two best pilots in the navy. It’s probably already studying the NATOPS for the F-35 as we speak.” Jake responded with a smile, wanting his jokes to get you to smile or even an eye roll would work for him.

“Wood?” A nurse called out from the connecting door. Both Jake and you jumped up and headed toward the room.

After checking over your vitals, the doctor had you laid down and pull your shirt up. You just happened to glance at Jake who winked at you. His eyes drifted down before you mumbled something to correct him.

You laid back on the bed and watched as the technician hit the lights and started to move around the cold gel over your belly.

“Ah, there is baby!” She announced finally finding the little one. Zooming in to get a close-up view to start taking some measurements.

“How is it looking so far?” Jake asked as he moved up next to you. Slipping his hand into yours as you both watched the little wonder moving around on the screen.

“Looks good so far. I’m just taking a measurement from it’s bottom to the top of it’s head to see how it’s going. As you can see, here are it’s feet. And it’s hands.” She explained pointing to it’s limbs.

“It actually looks like a little human.” You smiled watching the mini human squirming around.

“Yes. And if you look right here, that little flickering thing is its heart.” She smiled pointing to the tiny flickering heart on the screen.

“Can we hear it?” Jake asked and she nodded before changing a few things on the machine before the sound of a heartbeat filled the little room.

That is when the waterworks started for you. The fast little heartbeat was so loud and strong. You pulled your eyes away for a moment to glance at Jake who was just beaming. His face and smile was so bright as he squeezed your hand.

“The heart rate is 177 beats per minute which is normal. And I still only see one baby in there.” She explained as she continued clicking away on the machine.

“Any chance you can tell what it is yet?” Jake asked and she shook her head.

“Not definitively. With the twenty-week appointment, we will be able to tell for sure. But for now…” She moved the wand over to your belly. “I can’t really tell anything. So you’re just gonna have to wait.” She teased and you both nodded with a smile.

“That’s alright, we can be patient for a little while longer.” You giggled watching the screen as she updated your chart.

“Due date is looking closer to December 15th. But of course, we’ll be able to tell better at a later date.” She finished as she printed off some pictures and handed them to Jake while she helped clean you up.

You and Jake scheduled your next appointment and headed back out to the truck. Jake, of course, held your door open and put your purse at your feet while you settled in.

“You wanna do what my parents did? Since we did one of your traditions?” Jake asked as he climbed into the truck and you nodded.

“Well. If you agree to it, I did kinda find them a onesie already. But I haven’t bought it. But I think it would be the perfect first outfit.” You commented and Jake gave you a look of suspicious as you held your phone to your chest, hiding it.

“I thought we agreed…” Jake started but you shook your head.

“We can go pick one out together in person. But… I found it and think this has to be in the kid’s closet. Regardless of gender.” You explained before showing him the little ‘Daddy’s Wingman’ onesie.

Jake grinned seeing the onesie before he seemed to zone out. His smile faltered for a moment. His eyes were glassy before he looked away, staring off into the parking lot sea.

“You okay? If you don’t like it, we don’t have to get it. I haven’t bought anything besides the crib, I promise.” You explained trying to get a feel for his reaction. You reached your hand out this time, grabbing his hand and pulling it towards you.

“I’m… gonna be a dad…” Jake finally said as if the revelation just hit him in full. When his eyes met yours, you could see the tears making his green eyes glassy.

“Yeah…Yeah, you are Jake.” You answered, trying to stop yourself from crying, but you couldn’t. Not when Jake of all people was crying. Today had been overwhelming and maybe sometimes you just needed a cry.

“Wow… Mama was right. It’s all real now.” Jake chuckled wiping his tears off and you nodded. Laughing a bit in agreement.

“Yeah. The heartbeat made it real, didn’t it?” You pointed out and Jake nodded, looking at the ultrasounds in your hand.

“Dammit. I told myself I wasn’t going to cry at all.” Jake scorned as he looked at you and you rolled your eyes.

“I’ve cried plenty. It’s your turn.” You giggled as you ripped one of the ultrasounds off the little group and handed it to him. Jake tucked it into his visor to put in his locker at work.

“Let’s get the onesie. But only if it can wear it home from the hospital.” Jake smiled, his hand patting your belly gently.

“Deal.” You smiled, putting your hand over his.

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i-will-be-there-one-day · 2 years ago

Text

AHHHHH!!! They are together! And their happy! And the dagger squad knows about her!!!!

Right Girl, Wrong Time Part 9 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: It took ten years, but Bradley finally gets to have both of his dreams. Taking you to the Hard Deck shows him how perfectly your life and his still blend together. And if you want to take a marker to his door and claim him permanently, Bradley will hand you the Sharpie.

Warnings: Fluff, smut and swears

Length: 3400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a sequel to accompany my story Old Habits Die Hard (you'll want to read that one first)!

Check my profile for my masterlist

Bradley still couldn't believe you were in his house waiting for him. He scooped you up in his arms and held you tight in his lap on the couch.

"You've been here for three days?" he asked, shocked that Nat had been able to play it cool while she drove him home. And now he understood that you were the something sweet that Nat had left for him. His best friend was far superior to anyone else's best friend, and he'd sing Nat's praises for the rest of his life.

"Yes," you confirmed, running your fingers through his hair and kissing his cheek, "I've been here for three days, all thanks to Natasha. She promised me you wouldn't mind."

"Mind? Baby, you can stay forever. I want you to. I'm just kind of shocked you've been sleeping in my bed without me."

You smiled at him and straddled his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Are you sure you want me here? Your house is immaculate."

When your lips met his jaw, Bradley softly said, "No, you're a slob. This is never going to work." But his hands were sliding up your bare thighs and under your dress. "You can mess the place up, I don't care, Sugar. Now are you going to tell me more about the schools?"

You settled against him, kissing him between sentences as you played with his hair and told him everything. "The labs at Miami were incredible. And my office would have been huge, but there was one huge drawback."

"What's that?" he asked, rubbing the soft skin of your legs.

"You don't live there." Your face was calm, and a soft smile was touching your lips, but Bradley let his head rest on the back of the couch."Sugar, you can't make this decision for me," he whispered, and your fingers tightened in his hair.

"Listen to me, Beer Boy," you scolded, and Bradley couldn't help but imagine that this was your lecturing voice. "I didn't make you part of my future plans when we graduated together, and I regretted it. I'm not going to do that again. There's nothing Miami could have offered me that can compete with being in San Diego, working at a great university, and getting to be with you. I went to visit Miami just like I promised you I would, but I made up my mind about us before you left Virginia after the reunion. So you're just going to have to get over the fact that you made my decision easier, not harder."

Bradley just looked at your determined features and squared shoulders. "You really liked San Diego State? And you think you'll be happy there?"

"I loved it, Bradley. And I already accepted the position, so get used to me being here."

He knew he was grinning like an idiot while you pushed his hair away from his forehead with your soft touch. "Did you visit the study rooms yet?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed next to his ear. "They are very nice."

Bradley closed his eyes as your lips found his Adam's apple. "So you got a little solo action in the library then?" he asked with a smile.

"No. I was waiting to go back with you. The doors have locks, and the lighting is adjustable. Ten out of ten. I would love to take you there."

When you repositioned yourself so you were straddling his right thigh, Bradley groaned softly. You were running your fingers along all of the insignia pins on his uniform shirt, and he could feel your warm core pressed snug up against his leg. You started rocking your hips against him slowly, and Bradley hiked up your dress to find you skipped underwear. "Feel good, Sugar?" he groaned.

But now you were tracing his nametag with your fingertip. "Bradshaw," you muttered. "Hmm, I never pictured myself as a uniform chaser, but here we are, Beer Boy. You look good in this."

He held your hips in his big hands as you circled them a little faster. The sight of your pretty pussy already making his khakis wet had his full attention. Every time your knee nudged his erection, he wanted to be inside you, but he'd wait until you were done with his leg. Because he'd been thinking about this so frequently at night while he was deployed. He thought about taking you in every position. His mind had covered all the bases while he looked at his Sugar photo folder and jerked off.

You moaned and kissed him, your fingers gently dipping into his collar and withdrawing his dog tags. "Oh, yes," you hissed, grinding down harder on him. "Definitely loving the uniform."

Bradley wrapped his hand around the back of your neck and devoured your mouth as you got close. "If you're a good Sugar, you can mess up my dress blues and dress whites later."

"Oh god," you moaned, fisting his dog tags and pulling him so he was kissing you as you came.

He could feel the warm wetness through his khakis as your movements slowed and your kisses became languid. As your lips dragged across his mustache, Bradley stood with you in his arms. "Can I take you to bed? Our bed?"

You moaned and nodded as he guided you to the bedroom. "Our bed. Because I live with my boyfriend now," you whispered with a little smirk, running your fingers over the wet spot on his pants.

"I missed you," Bradley promised when he had you sprawled out on the bed.

You nodded at him, running your thumb along his mustache. "Yeah, deployments are going to suck, Beer Boy."

But he just shook his head. "No. I missed you for ten years. The deployments will be easy. You'll be here when I come home. And I'll love you the whole time."

Your eyes closed at his words, and Bradley kissed every inch of your face. Then he pulled your dress up high enough to get his lips on your tattoos. "I love you, Sugar."

Eventually you got his zipper down, and Bradley was fucking you while you were both clothed. Your fingers were wrapped around his dog tags as he leaned down to taste your mouth. You held him close by the chain, but Bradley didn't want to be anywhere else.

"I want you." The desperate gasp against his lips as you pulsed around him made him dizzy. "I love you."

"I'm all yours, baby," he promised, slowing his strokes as you clenched harder. "You're so good."

You bit your lip and tipped your head back, looking like the vision of his fantasies since college came to life once more. When your back arched off the bed, Bradley took you hard by the hips and bottomed out, holding your tight pussy around him as your gasps got louder.

"Feels so good," you whimpered, fluttering around his cock buried deep inside you. When your fingers started to tremble on his dog tags, releasing the chain and going for his hair instead, Bradley started fucking you again. You came with his name all over your lips, and Bradley watched his tags hit your neck and chin as you squeezed his release from him.

"God damn," Bradley moaned when your lips parted, and you took his dog tags gently between your teeth as he filled you up. You were still moaning softly, your hands warm against his biceps and forearms. "God damn, Sugar."

He snuggled up with you, his cock still deep inside your wet pussy, and he looked at your sated expression as his tags rested on your slightly parted lips.

"I got both of my dreams," he whispered, running his fingers along your cheek as you turned toward him. "Finally."

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

You fell asleep with Bradley's dick inside you. That's just how right he felt. That's just how happy being with him in San Diego made you.

He had been talking about taking you to his favorite beach and all the best restaurants. He was waxing poetic about a pizza place that kind of reminded him of the one he liked at UVA when your eyes drifted closed. The last thing you remembered was the prickle of his mustache against your temple as you sighed into a blissful nap.

When you woke up with the afternoon sun on your face, you sat up in bed alone. You could hear the distant sound of the washing machine running, and when you went into the living room, Bradley was folding and sorting his laundry, along with the things you'd left in the dryer, in just his khaki uniform pants.

"Beer Boy," you whispered, and he was instantly off the couch and wrapping his arms around you. You rested your cheek against his bare chest and kissed him. "I could easily get used to this."

Bradley chuckled. "You made out a lot better in this deal. I have a new roommate who is a slob."

You glared up at him, but he was smiling brightly. "Come here, let me show you what I did," he said, taking you by the hand and leading you into his office. The desk was empty except for your purple notebook, a single black sharpie and the Navy desk lamp. "You can have the office. You'll need it for correcting exams and lesson plans and whatever else you'll be doing that I won't be able to understand."

You picked up the sharpie and turned to look at him. "Am I allowed to write on the door?" All of Bradley's doors were white, including his front door.

"You can do anything you want, Sugar. And when your boxes arrive, you can have half the closet in the bedroom. And you can use as much of the bathroom counter as you need." You hugged his naked torso as he said, "Nat wants us to go to the bar tonight."

"We can go," you whispered as he rubbed your back. "I love Nat. I'm going to steal your best friend."

"I'm telling you, she's usually terrible. You'll change your mind soon." He dug in his pocket and handed you a keyring. "This is for you, too. A house key."

You took it in your hand, and turned it over. It was a beer bottle opener that said I LOVE CHICAGO and had one key on it. "Where did you get this?" you asked with a smile.

He shrugged and kissed your forehead. "I found it at a flea market ages ago. It made me smile. It's been living in the kitchen drawer."

"You really missed me," you whispered, clutching the marker and the key. You felt tears in your eyes.

"I'm not going to miss you anymore. You're mine again."

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

Bradley gave you a neighborhood tour, taking you on the scenic route to the Hard Deck. Your fingers were laced through his and his Grateful Dead playlist was playing and he was so in love. Fuck, earlier this morning, he wasn't even sure where he stood with you. He thought maybe you had chosen Miami and left him floundering. But now he had a girlfriend who lived with him in the house he owned in Coronado.

He started laughing.

"What's so funny, Beer Boy?"

He kissed your knuckles as he pulled into the parking lot. "You live in San Diego now, Sugar."

"Beer Boy, you absolute dunce, I live in your bedroom now."

He laughed harder as he parked his Bronco, and then you were crawling across the seat and onto his lap. "Yeah, I guess you do."

"And you know what else?" you asked, running your fingers along his mustache and making him smile.

"What?"

You licked the side of his neck, and Bradley held you close as you whispered, "I'm taking you to visit the study rooms tomorrow."

He let his head tip back against the seat as he groaned. "You're too good to me, Sugar."

"And once I have an office, I'll take you there, too," you added, running your hand down his chest to his abs. Bradley was wearing the tropical print shirt you'd had on in the hotel room when he fucked you on the desk. He was greatly looking forward to putting it on you again tonight and fucking you next to his Navy desk lamp just like ten years ago.

"Sugar, I got plans for us. So let's get inside, get a drink, and then go back home."

You climbed out of the driver's door and asked, "What kind of plans? I thought we were going to hang out here for a while so I could meet your friends."

Bradley wrapped his arm around you and kissed your forehead. "My plans involve the desk at home and minimal clothing."

"Oh! Then yes, let's make it an early night."

Bradley was antsy to introduce you to the guys, but as he held the door open for you, letting the noise spill out into the evening air, you paused. When you pulled your phone out of your pocket, you made a surprised noise. "It's Veronica calling me back, but it's late in Virginia! Let me answer so I can tell her I'm moving in with you and get my stuff shipped out."

Bradley nodded and you kissed his cheek. "Come find me by the pool table, Sugar." He heard you answer the phone as he strolled inside and ran right into Nat at the bar.

"Well? Where is she?" Nat asked him, glancing all around. "Shit, did she remember how ugly you are when you got home and decided to move to Miami instead?"

"You're fucking hilarious, Nat. She's outside talking to her friend from UVA who is shipping her boxes out for her." Then Bradley smirked and added, "She agreed to move in with me."

Nat squeaked and threw her arms around him. "I am honestly so happy for you Bradley! You've been in love with her for longer than I've known you!" She released him and patted his chest.

He rubbed his hand through his hair and held up two fingers for Jimmy to get him two beers. "You're right. I wish you had let me know I never got over her. Maybe I could have made this reunion happen sooner."

"Nah, the timing was just right," Nat told him and he followed her to the pool table with both beers.

"Did you tell the guys she's here?" he asked, knowing he was about to get hugged several more times.

"No. I haven't told them anything," she replied, and as soon as Fanboy saw Bradley, he was cheering.

"Rooster's back!" Bradley had them all slapping his back and giving him awkward hugs, and then he had a pool cue in one hand.

"Good to see you," Hangman drawled. "Next drink is on me." Bradley was just about to thank him, when he saw Jake looking longingly across the room. "Unless I can manage to pull her. Then you're on your own, bird brain."

Bradley couldn't keep the grin off his face when he realized Jake was looking at you as you made your way inside. He couldn't blame Jake; you were gorgeous, your jeans were hugging your body, and your top made your tits look extra amazing.

You spotted Bradley and moved through the crowd with a soft smile touching your lips, and Bradley knew he was going to love you forever.

"Damn," Payback sighed, looking right where Bradley and Jake were both looking. "Anyone know who she is?"

"Never seen her before," Jake answered. "She's beautiful."

Bradley heard Coyote and Fanboy add their two cents about how they'd love to be the one to take you home, and Nat was doubled over in silent laughter next to Bradley.

"Nah," Bradley said, "she's all mine."

"Put your money where your mouth is, Bradshaw," Jake said.

"Two hundred bucks," Bradley replied, trying not to laugh.

He heard Jake agree just as you dodged around a waitress and smiled at Bradley. Then all the guys gaped in wonder as you closed the distance and wrapped your arms around him.

"She's going to ship the boxes out tomorrow," you told him with a smile, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mustache. "She said she can't wait to come visit and go to the beach."

"Sounds good," Bradley said, kissing the top of your head before you released him to give Nat a hug. He turned to the guys who all looked shocked.

"What in the Twilight Zone is going on here?" Jake asked. "Since when do you have a girl?"

"Since this morning," Bradley answered with a smirk. "But we've been together for a long time. Kind of."

"That doesn't make a damn bit of sense," Jake replied, but then Bob was looking at you with a smile.

"You're Sugar, right?" he asked you quietly. "You look familiar."

"It's nice to meet you, Bob," you said with a bright smile.

"Holy shit," Fanboy muttered, and then he was smiling. "This is the famous Sugar!"

"How did this happen?" Payback asked Bradley.

"It's a long story," you told them with the kind of smile that Bradley knew would have them eating out of your hands from now on. "But I took a job at San Diego State so I could be near the love of my life."

Bradley leaned down and kissed your smiling lips before handing you one of the bottles. "Have one of the good beers, Sugar."

The evening passed in a blur of excitement, and you were never far from Bradley's side. In fact, he made sure he was touching you as much as possible even though everyone wanted to talk to you. When it was time to leave, he guided you toward the door, turning back to yell at Jake.

"You owe me two hundred bucks!"

Jake just groaned and flipped Bradley the middle finger. "I'll bring it to work."

"Why does he owe you money?" you asked, lacing your fingers with Bradley's as you stepped out into the cool, night air.

"He made an error in judgement," Bradley told you with a straight face.

When he pulled the Bronco into his driveway a few minutes later, your lips were all over him as soon as you unbuckled your seatbelt. When you both stumbled to the porch, unable to walk correctly as you were halfway in his arms, you made a big production of taking your key out.

"Allow me to unlock our front door," you said, dangling the Chicago keychain in the moonlight before opening the door. Bradley couldn't keep his hands off you as you led him down the hallway to the office.

But when he tried to lead you inside and over to the desk, you took his hand and kept him in the doorway. "What's wrong?" he asked, brushing his fingers along your cheek.

"Nothing," you replied, the light filtering down the hallway illuminating your face. "Everything is perfect."

Then Bradley's eyes caught on the office door and his lips parted in awe. You had taken the black sharpie to the pristine, white surface, the same way he had done to his bedroom door in his fraternity house so long ago. Back then, he was desperately trying to get you in his life. And repainting his door for you had been the only way he knew how to show you he was serious. Writing the nickname he had given you on his door and begging you for your phone number seemed silly now. But somehow it had worked.

So if you wanted to walk around his house, live with him, and make him this happy all the time, he didn't mind if you took a permanent marker to every surface.

"Sugar, I love you too, baby," he promised, already considering all the things you and he would do together in the future. Already thinking about how much he wanted to marry you.

With a smile, you let Bradley lead you into the room, past the door that now said SUGAR LOVES BEER BOY in your handwriting. He would never paint this door.

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

Part ten will act as an epilogue of sorts! That will be posted in a few days. Thank you for reading along with Beer Boy/Man and Sugar; I've been smitten with them since day one! Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls (The cover banner is the Jon Langston album cover!)

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#rooster fanfic #I just love them #nat is the best bff #sugar and beer boy for life!

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i-will-be-there-one-day · 2 years ago

Text

Kitten and Ev deserve to be happy! And I think coach can do that!

Batting Practice Part 13 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You don't show up to the game the next day, and Bradley has to face Molly's wrath when she comes in your place. His heart is broken as he feels the consequences of his words, but he finally realizes just how much you and Everett mean to him. Then he sees you at Everett's Career Day, but you're not making it easy on him.

Warnings: Angst, swearing

Length: 5300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun!

Bradley sat up most of the night in his sad apartment, sipping on a bottle of bourbon and feeling like a prize asshole. He had finally found a woman he thought he could settle down with, thought the three of you could maybe be a family, but he managed to fuck all of it up before you were even properly dating him.

This was just so on brand for him, it was laughable. Every bad decision that could be made about women, well he made them. He just had to go spouting off for weeks on end that he didn't date moms with baggage, and now Jake had made everything blow up in his face.

The problem was, Bradley actually had said all of that shit, but that was before he really got to know you and Everett. It made him sick now to think about the implications of what he had said.

You hated him now. He knew you must. He had managed to hurt your feelings so deeply, he didn't know if you would ever look at him again. But the truth was, Bradley was the one with all the baggage. He was the one who didn't know how to make the right decisions. He was the one who made everything too complicated. Not you. Not Everett. The two of you were perfect. And he thought for a moment that he could have you. But now he knew he had been wrong again.

And there was no doubt in his mind that Carole Bradshaw would be so disappointed in him right now. Because she would have reacted the same way that you had. She would have stood up for her only son and protected him no matter what.

He groaned as he got to his feet, swaying as he set down his half empty bottle of alcohol on the kitchen counter. He needed to get it together and make it to the tee ball game in six hours.

You would be there! He could try to talk to you then. Unless you kept Everett home instead. Bradley felt like crying, so he just dragged himself to his bed and passed out with his uniform pants still on.

Bradley's alarm barely woke him up as he dragged his sandpaper tongue across his teeth and moaned. His head was throbbing, but he managed to get up and get right in the shower at the prospect of seeing you. He didn't have time to shave or eat, but he did make it to the ballfield early, just in case.

"You look like shit," Bob told him, and his expression was something akin to disappointment.

Bradley closed his eyes briefly. "I feel worse. Promise."

"Did you talk to her?" Bob asked. Bradley wasn't exactly sure how much everyone knew. He hadn't stayed at the bar for very long after you left, preferring to drink at home alone. Chalk that up to another poor decision made.

"She doesn't want to talk to me. I'm such an idiot."

Bob just kind of shrugged as he set things up for their game against the Tiny Blue Jays. "Molly is angry, too," Bob informed him. "She's barely texted me back since yesterday."

Now Bradley felt even worse, because Bob's relationship with your sister shouldn't have to be the collateral damage of his word vomit. "I'm so sorry."

"I'll figure it out," Bob mumbled. "And you need to apologize to Team Mom until she forgives you. Did you tell her that you said all of that stuff a long time ago? You barely even knew her then."

"Yeah, but I still said it," Bradley replied, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. "And between the slap to my face and the valid points she was yelling at me, I didn't get a chance to try to explain myself. But she's not going to want to hear it anyway."

Then Bradley's heart was skipping erratically in his chest, making his head throb more. When he saw Everett in his blue uniform, he squinted against the sunlight and almost took off running. But it wasn't you. It was Molly. And she looked pissed as hell.

"I'll be right back," Bob mumbled and headed for her instead. Which was fine with Bradley, because now something much worse was happening. Everett was bounding toward him, and he didn't know how he was supposed to react. He just braced himself for the pain.

"Hi, Coach Bradley! See? I remembered to call you Coach Bradley instead of just Bradley since it's a tee ball day. When can we go back to the park again?"

Bradley wanted to cry. "Hey, kiddo. I missed you all week when I was away." And that was the honest truth.

Everett just shrugged. "Practice was still fun, because my mom made it funny. And we won our last game, even though you weren't there. Do you think you can still win Coach of the Year if you missed a game?"

Bradley reached for Everett and pulled him in for a brief hug while Molly glared at him right past Bob's elbow.

"Where's your mom, kiddo? Is she coming?"

Everett shook his head. "No, she was crying this morning, even though she didn't want me to know it. She does that sometimes, but it's usually only right after we see my dad."

Fuck. Bradley made you cry as hard as Danny did. Just when he thought he couldn't possibly feel worse, the honest words from a first grader twisted the knife a little deeper. Bradley had assured you that he was better than both Frank and Danny, but he was actually the worst one of the bunch.

"You want me to help you with your cleats?" Bradley asked, and soon he was changing Everett's shoes while Molly kissed Bob on the cheek. He felt a tiny bit better that maybe he didn't fuck things up for Bob as well as himself. But then Everett said something that made him want to drink another bottle of bourbon and pass out.

"Coach Bradley, are you still excited for the Phillies game next weekend?"

Bradley froze with the laces halfway tired on Everett's right shoe. He swallowed hard; in all of his fucking up, Bradley had forgotten about the upcoming game. He was going to have to disappoint Everett, because there was no way you would let him take your son to the game now.

But he didn't know what to say other than, "So excited, kiddo." Then he sent Everett to start warming up while he pulled out his phone and tried to call you again. Voicemail. A second time. Voicemail. He'd left you so many messages already, but he decided to leave another one.

"Kitten. I'm sorry. I miss you. Please, Kitten. Please, call me back."

Bradley was surprised the Tiny Eagles managed to win the game. He was having such a hard time focusing as Molly's glare was burning a hole in his back. But every time he turned toward her, she was looking elsewhere. When the game ended, he took off in her direction, leaving Bob to clean everything up.

"Where is she? Is she okay? Is she at home?" he asked Molly, who was finally looking directly at him as she stood up.

"That's none of your business," she said, and Bradley knew he wasn't going to get anywhere with her, but he was going to try anyway.

"Molly, listen, I fucked up. I said that shit before I really knew her. Before I really knew what I wanted."

She crossed her arms over her chest, and the look on her face had Bradley taking a step backwards. "You called Everett baggage," she hissed as her eyes flashed. And if her sister was a Kitten, then Molly was a feral street cat that desperately wanted to give Bradley rabies.

"Please, I'm begging you. Will you talk to her for me? Ask her to call me back?"

Molly's harsh laugh had him feeling hopeless. "She doesn't owe you anything, and neither do I. She's not your girlfriend. And now she's never going to be your girlfriend."

"Molly! What do I have to do to get her to talk to me?" Bradley asked, ready to beg on his knees for the chance to explain himself. "I made a mistake. But I care about her. And Ev."

Molly shook her head sadly at him. "Even Frank wasn't this bad. At least he didn't mind that she has a son. Who, by the way, is the sweetest child in existence." Now Molly looked like she was going to cry.

Bradley took his hat off and balled it up in his hands. He realized he probably looked insane right now, but he just needed to know how to get you to listen. "I can explain myself to her. I'll beg her to listen to me. I'll bring more flowers and more baseball cards for Ev. I'll-"

Molly cut him off with a jab of her index finger to his chest. "You can bring all the flowers and cards you want, but that doesn't change the fact that you're not good enough for her. You're not good enough for them!"

His voice was soft now, because he knew she was right. "Molly, please help me talk to her."

"You know, she wants to pull Ev from the team," Molly replied, picking up his gear bag as he ran over. Bradley felt sick; he wouldn't get to see you or Everett anymore. "The only reason she's not going to pull him is because of the friends he's made, and because she's a better person than you. But she thought about it. I hope you know you hurt her that bad."

Everett plopped down on the bench, and Bradley watched Molly instantly switch modes and turn into the loving aunt that she normally was. He really was bringing out the worst in everyone right now.

When Everett was all ready to leave, and he and Molly were heading for her car, Bradley jogged up next to him. "Kiddo? Can you tell your mom something for me?"

"Sure, Coach," he replied, smiling up at Bradley like he always did.

Molly was staring daggers at him again as he said, "Tell her I was wrong before, but now I have my priorities straight."

"Come on, Ev," Molly told him, taking him by the hand and pulling him along. "We need to go."

Bradley knew he wasn't like Danny or Frank, and he just needed an opportunity to prove it. But he didn't want to upset Everett who was looking back at him with wide eyes. "Tell her I miss her, and I can't wait to see her next time! Bye, Kiddo!"

"Bye, Coach!"

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

Luckily Molly was working overnight tonight and offered to take Everett to his game, because you were in no way ready to see Bradley today. Your heart was actually broken, and you were just so embarrassed.

Your kid's hot tee ball coach. Could you possibly be any more predictable? Any more of a chiche?

You were still in your pajamas forcing down some toast when Molly brought Everett back home around noon. "We ate lunch," she told you. "Everett wanted the baseball Happy Meal toy."

"Thanks," you mumbled, knowing that your little sister who spent the night holding your hand wouldn't judge you for looking like a mess right now.

"Mommy, are you sick today?" Ev asked, and your heart sank.

"Yeah, Ev. I'm not feeling great."

He set his Happy Meal toy down and started taking off his shoes. "I know what will make you feel better! Coach said he missed you! And he can't wait to see you next time. And that he has his prior tires straight."

Molly sighed and shook her head. "He means priorities."

"Yeah. Priorities," Everett said, agreeing with her.

You felt like crying all over again, and now your phone was vibrating with another call from him. You ignored it as Molly told Everett to grab a snack and eat it out on the back deck. Once he was out of earshot, you told your sister, "He keeps calling and texting me. I don't understand why he cares so much, since I'm clearly a joke to him and all of his friends."

Molly sprawled out on your couch. "He actually seems upset, and I am telling you that begrudgingly, because I want to hate him."

You twisted your fingers together, afraid to know, but you asked anyway. "Did he say anything to you?"

"Yeah," Molly said with a laugh. "Plenty. He begged me to get you to talk to him. I honestly thought he was going to plead on his knees. He said he made a mistake, and he doesn't feel that way now at all."

Oh. Well that was interesting. Your phone vibrated again.

"And Bob said Bradley is an idiot, but he didn't think he was actually trying to hurt you," Molly added. "Of course I also asked Bob if he knew that Bradley felt like kids were baggage and moms were a waste of time."

"What did he say?" you whispered, setting your phone down before you caved and answered it.

"Bob said he would find it hard to believe that Bradley actually felt that way now, based on how much he loves you and Everett. He used those words, not me."

Your heart was pounding as your doorbell rang, and Molly sprang up to answer it. "Oh, shit," Molly mumbled as she carried several huge bouquets of colorful flowers into the kitchen.

As you opened the card attached to the first one you picked up, your eyes went wide. All of the cards said the same thing, written in Bradley's handwriting.

I'm so sorry, Kitten. You and Everett are NOT baggage. You're perfect. I didn't mean it. Please, talk to me.

"Well, you don't need all of these flowers, so I'm taking some to my apartment," Molly said, kissing your cheek as she scooped up a few bouquets. "I'll come by in the morning after work."

And then she was gone, and you were sitting inside a massive floral display with very mixed emotions.

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

Bradley went home and drank the rest of Saturday away until he was asleep. If Molly wasn't willing to help him, and he could understand why she wasn't, then he would have to figure this out on his own. Because at this point, he didn't know what he was going to do without you and Everett. He needed you. He needed to fix this.

On Sunday morning, he took a shower and got himself cleaned up. Two days of looking like a disaster was enough, so he dumped the rest of the bourbon down the drain as well. Then he grabbed the one thing he needed and drove to your house, nervous as hell that you wouldn't answer the door for him even if you were home.

He parked behind Molly's car and sighed. She was acting as your bodyguard right now, that's how badly he had fucked up. Either you or Molly didn't want you to be left alone. He climbed out of his Bronco with the binder tucked under his arm, and he made his way up to your front porch.

Before he could even knock, the door swung open to reveal an exhausted looking Molly in wrinkled scrubs holding a cup of coffee. "What do you want now?" she asked, and Bradley stood back far enough that she would probably miss him if she tossed the coffee.

"Will you please tell her I'm here?"

"She's not home," Molly replied coolly.

"Her car is in the driveway," he replied.

Molly sighed. "She's soaking in the tub, and she doesn't want to talk to you."

Bradley ran his hand over his face, unsure how much he should push. But then Everett came bounding out onto the porch and into Bradley's arms.

"Coach! I mean Bradley! What are you doing here? The Phillies game isn't until next Sunday! And Career Day isn't until Wednesday!"

Bradley's heart clenched with need. If he couldn't take Everett to the Phillies game, he didn't know what he would do. The kid would be crushed, and truthfully, so would he.

He knelt on the porch and held up the binder. "I just came by to give you this," Bradley told him, really examining his face. He looked so much like you. He could see some of Danny there as well, but there was no denying that Everett took after his mom.

"What is it?" Everett asked, but when he opened it and saw the plastic pages filled with baseball cards, his eyes went wide. "No way! Are these for me?"

"Yep. All yours, kiddo." Bradley had grabbed one of his binders at random, and probably just handed a six year old a collection worth a thousand dollars. But he didn't care. It didn't matter. Bradley swallowed hard and glanced at Molly before he asked Everett, "How's your mom?"

Everett just shrugged while he looked at the baseball cards. "She said she doesn't feel good. Something must be hurting her, because she keeps crying sometimes."

Bradley let the feeling of dread wash over him as Molly sipped her coffee. "Do you think she would let me take you to the park and pitch some balls?" he asked. But before Everett could even get excited, Molly cut him off.

"Not today, Ev. Remember, I'm taking you to the movies after lunch."

Bradley pressed his lips together and patted Everett on the shoulder as he stood up. "Another day, then."

When Bradley pulled away from the curb, Everett was waving to him while holding the baseball card binder, and Molly was standing behind her nephew, flipping Bradley the middle finger.

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

On Monday, Bradley flew like shit. He couldn't pay attention, and he was honestly a little nervous that someone was going to get hurt.

"What the fuck was that?" Nat asked him once they were back on the tarmac. "I'm team leader! You need to listen to me!"

"I'm sorry," he told her. "You're absolutely right. I'm just distracted today."

"If this is about your Team Mom, you need to leave it on the ground." Nat was seething, and she had every right to be. "I know Jake blew your cover, but I tried to tell you from the start that if you were interested in her, you needed to get used to the fact that she has a kid!"

Now Bradley was seething too, because nobody seemed to want to listen to his side of things. "I am used to it, Nat! I got used to it real quick! And I wouldn't want it any other way!"

"Then sort your shit out or leave it on the ground!" She stormed away from him without another word.

Then Bradley saw Maverick strolling his way and he tightened his grip on his helmet. "Listen, Bradley. I don't know what the hell happened to you in Lemoore or what your weekend was like, but you can't be flying like that. It's a liability. I'm grounding you for the week."

"What the fuck, Mav!"

But he just held up his hand. "There's no point in arguing with me. The Admirals don't want you in the air for a few days." Then he turned and headed back to the tower leaving Bradley alone in the bright sunlight.

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

You skipped practice on Monday. It had been three days since Bradley had seen you, and the only thing holding his heart together was the fact that Everett was still happy to see him.

"Hi, Coach Bradley!" he called with a wave as he ran ahead of Molly.

When Bradley headed toward the bleachers to help him change his cleats, Bob grabbed him by the shoulder to stop him. "Hey, I'd steer clear of Molly if I were you. She's not your biggest fan at the moment." At least Bob's face looked sympathetic.

"Yeah, I noticed."

Bob just kind of shrugged. "I took her out for dinner last night, and I tried my best to let her know you're not going to hurt her sister."

"Thanks," Bradley muttered. At least there was one person who didn't think he was horrible.

Molly stood to the side and let Bradley tie Everett's cleats while he rambled on about how excited he was for Career Day. When he paused to take a breath, Bradley asked, "How's your mom, kiddo? She feeling better?"

"She's at a work meeting with someone named Frank," Everett replied, putting his Phillies cap on backwards to match with Bradley. He didn't like hearing that you were with Frank, potentially alone. But then Everett added, "She's still sad, too. She took my stuffed Phanatic to sleep with it. I think she remembered that you said it was good for if you're having a hard time."

Bradley closed his eyes for a beat. "You should go start warming up," he whispered, and Everett was off like a rocket running toward Bob.

"She did give me a message for you," Molly told him as she sat on the bleachers and blew a kiss to Bob, who immediately started blushing.

"What did she say?" he asked, preparing himself to beg her.

"She wants you to stop sending flowers. I took some home, and she donated the rest to a nursing home. She said if you can't seem to stop, you can just send them directly to Bright Senior Living so she doesn't have to drive them there herself."

"Fuck," he growled, dropping down on the bench next to her and burying his face in his hands. He sat there for a bit as Bob started practice without him. He was so far out of his element. He had never chased a woman before in his life. He never saw the point in it until now. If he could figure out what to do, he would do it immediately.

"You actually care about her?" Molly asked softly, and Bradley turned to look at her.

"Not just her. Everett too. I can't get enough of either of them." His eyes were stinging as he watched Everett round the bases.

"Then why did you call him baggage?"

Bradley stared at the turf. "Because I was terrified of falling for someone who was outside of my wheelhouse. Someone with more substance. Someone who would make it impossible to stop thinking about them." He stood, realizing it was time to go help Bob. "I'm an idiot. Truly, Molly, I do understand that. But I said all of that shit weeks and weeks ago, when I was just starting to realize that your sister meant something to me."

Molly nodded at him, and just as he was turning to head toward home plate, she said, "Then show her you care about them. And tell her what you told me. I'll let her know I can't bring Ev to practice on Thursday. And I'm pretty sure you're still on the roster for Career Day on Wednesday."

Bradley's heartbeat was speeding up. He felt more alive than he had since he was with you at the Hard Deck. "Thanks, Molly."

"Don't thank me. I'm still pissed at you. I just want my sister and nephew to be happy."

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

You left work at lunchtime on Wednesday and headed to Everett's school. When you planned out a five minute presentation for his class, you realized he was right: you did have a boring job. How you were supposed to make accounting interesting for a bunch of six and seven year olds was beyond you. It also didn't help that you were having the shittiest week ever.

Not only were you missing Bradley and trying to get over him, you had been forced to stay late and work with Frank on Monday. Well, he had volunteered to stay late when he heard you were going to. And now you couldn't even lie to him and say you were seeing Bradley to get him off your back.

With a deep sigh, you opened your car door and headed across the parking lot in your suit and high heels, the hot sun making you uncomfortable in your long sleeves.

And then you heard his voice in person for the first time since Friday night. "Kitten."

You turned to see Bradley walking up the sidewalk in his flight suit, boots, and aviators looking impossibly handsome. You had been listening to his voicemail apologies last night, but the way he sounded in person made your spine tingle with need.

You tamped it down. "What are you doing here?" you asked, not bothering to look at him as he caught up to you.

He was silent for a beat. "Everett invited me."

You scoffed. "Well, I'm uninviting you."

"Kitten. Please."

"No," you said sternly. "Why even bother if he's just my excess baggage?"

Bradley stopped walking, and when you turned to look at him, he had the same expression he had worn after you slapped him across his cheek. "He's not," Bradley rasped. "He's perfect. And so are you. And I don't want to make him upset if I don't show up."

You rolled your eyes. "Come on." He followed you like your shadow, his warmth at your back. You thought maybe he was going to touch you when you signed both of them in at the office and got name tags. It seemed like he wanted to, like maybe he was holding back. And as much as you wanted to scream in his face, your body was betraying you by craving his touch.

"This way," you told him, and when you entered Everett's classroom with Bradley next to you, your son's eyes lit up. He waved at both of you from his seat, and you had to plaster on a smile. Before giving it too much thought, you grabbed one of the empty seats between two other parents, leaving Bradley to fend for himself.

You sat politely and listened to Harper's mom talk about neurosurgery. Then Peyton's dad talked about construction equipment. You gave everyone your full attention, firmly ignoring Bradley. You didn't even look at him once while you stood in front of the class and talked about how important math is.

Once you were finished, you kissed Everett's forehead before you returned to your seat. But then it was Bradley's turn, and you couldn't help but look at him.

"Hi, I'm Lieutenant Bradshaw, and Everett invited me here to talk about flying jets called Super Hornets." Every pair of eyes was glued to him as he gave a riveting presentation. Everett was practically vibrating with excitement at his desk, clearly so proud to have brought the most interesting adult to Career Day. You also noted that every woman was drooling over Bradley, including Everett's teacher.

It was crazy to think that for a short time, you thought he was going to be yours.

When everyone was done speaking, you popped out of your seat and told Everett you'd pick him up in a few hours, and then you were making a beeline for the door. You could hear Bradley calling your name, but you just kept going all the way to your car.

"Kitten, please!" He was right behind you now, and you saw his big hand shoot past your shoulder and hold your door firmly closed. "Can we talk?"

You turned to face him, and you were taken back to every single time he had walked you and Everett to your car after tee ball practice.

"About what?" you whispered. He had caught you off guard. You meant to start yelling, but all of the warm feelings he gave you were right there at the surface.

His eyes went a little wide as his lips parted, seemingly surprised you weren't shouting at him. "I'm sorry, Kitten. I fucked up. I should have never said those things, because I didn't even mean them."

You couldn't meet his eyes as you asked him, "Why did you say that to your friends? I feel humiliated. I feel like you think Everett and I are a joke."

"No!" he said, keeping his hand against the door and leaning a little closer to you. "You're not. And he's not. I said that so long ago, because I was instantly attracted to you, Kitten. And that terrified me."

You felt the fight draining out of you, and you knew you needed to get in your car and leave before he saw you crying. But instead you said, "Maybe you're right though. We're a lot to handle. I shouldn't have expected things to be easy."

When you turned and tried to open your door, Bradley held it shut. "Will you look at me?" You glanced at him over your shoulder as you felt tears stinging your eyes. "You and Everett are not a lot to handle. You're the perfect amount. Being around both of you makes me feel so good, Kitten."

You swallowed hard and shook your head. "Thanks for coming today, I guess. It made him happy."

He let go of the door and ran his thumb across your jaw. "I don't think I would be able to live with myself if I made him cry."

You nodded and ducked away from his hand. "I'll figure it out. Make it so that this doesn't break his heart."

"Don't say that, Kitten. I still want to take him to the Phillies game on Sunday. I want all three of us to go," he whispered as you turned your back fully to him again.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

You could feel his frustration rolling off of him, and his voice sounded panicked. "Where does that leave us, Kitten? Do I even stand a chance now?"

"I don't know. I need to get back to work. Bye, Coach."

This time he let you open the door, and he closed it softly once you were inside. When you pulled away, he just stood in the parking spot watching you.

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

Bradley ended up at the Hard Deck after Career Day at Everett's school. He was grounded from flying, you'd just told him you didn't know where he stood with you, and he was probably going to make Everett cry at some point this week.

He ran his hands over his face and nursed a beer for a while. When Nat and Jake showed up, eyeing him cautiously, he thought it would be to his advantage to just head home. He handed Penny some cash, but Nat rubbed his shoulder.

"I'm sorry I screamed at you on Monday."

"I deserved it," Bradley replied. "I wasn't being safe."

"You look fucking miserable," Jake drawled, leaning on the bar next to Bradley.

"You're literally the last person I want to talk to right now," Bradley replied through gritted teeth. "Thanks for Friday night."

Jake just shook his head. "Hey, I was just trying to get in her pants, okay? She's gorgeous, and you made it pretty clear the last time we talked about her that you were not interested."

Bradley couldn't even get mad, because Jake was actually right. "Well I'm pretty fucking interested in her now, okay? Stay out of her pants."

Jake just grinned. "I think I know what might help."

"This sounds suspicious," Bradley muttered, eyeing Jake cautiously. "Let's hear it."

"You still planning on going to that Padres game this weekend?"

"I don't know," Bradley groaned, pushing his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"Well," Jake said as he signalled Penny for a drink. "My landlord's son is the head groundskeeper at Petco Park. I can try to pull some strings if you think it will help."

Bradley gaped at him. "Do it."

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

Molly is the sister I wish I had! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

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#give the man a chance #you can make him cry first but get back together #rooster x you

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i-will-be-there-one-day · 2 years ago

Text

Sugar chose BB!

Right Girl, Wrong Time Part 8 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: You fulfill your promise to visit both schools. You can't deny that Miami is beautiful and offers a lot of things you want. But San Diego has Bradley, and it's time for you to figure out where your priorities lie. During your trip to California, you reach out to a new friend to discuss your decision.

Warnings: Fluff, swears, and angst

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a sequel to accompany my story Old Habits Die Hard (you'll want to read that one first)!

Check my profile for my masterlist

Your flight touched down in Miami on a Monday morning in late July, and you couldn't get over how disgusting the weather was. Once you had your luggage, you made your way outside to get in line for a taxi, and you thought you were going to melt. Your lungs felt uncomfortable from the humidity, and it was blazing hot for so early in the day.

You were completely stuck to the seat, and your taxi driver was weaving in and out of traffic. "How much further?" you asked him cautiously, but he was already making a turn toward an absolutely beautiful campus. You peeled yourself off of the seat and braced yourself as you opened the door to the wall of humidity once again.

When you made your way to meet the dean of students with your suitcase and sweaty clothing, you wished you had decided to visit during the winter. And now you had to sit through several meetings thinking about the fact that you hated this weather, perhaps even more than the Chicago winters.

If you were too cold, you could always snuggle up to Bradley.

And then there he was. Again. Right at the front of your mind. You promised him you'd take him out of the equation of which job was the right one for you, but you just didn't know if you could do it.

"Is that correct?" The dean of students was talking to you, and you had no idea what she was saying. She would literally be your supervisor's boss if you took the job here, and you were busy daydreaming about Bradley.

You pushed some of your sweaty hair out of your face. "Uh, could you repeat that, please?"

When you finally got the conversation back on track, you left with a schedule for the next three days. You'd be meeting dozens of people, sitting in on a calculus lecture, looking at curriculum, and taking tours.

You learned pretty quickly that the best time to go out was late at night. You also learned that the Cuban food trucks made some of the most delicious things you had ever tasted. You went out to dinner with some of the deans, and you toured what could become your future office.

It was all very nice, and luckily heavily air conditioned. There was nothing wrong with any of it. But you weren't convinced it was actually right. Until you took yourself on a tour of the library and found the study rooms. They were sterile, with harsh fluorescent lighting. And the doors had windows and didn't lock. You laughed and took a few pictures, including a selfie of you frowning. You'd send them to Bradley when he got back.

On your last day in Miami, you stopped at a coffee shop before doing some sightseeing. You opted for an iced coffee to try to fight away some of the heat, but even in a sundress, it felt horrible outside. You were just pulling the fabric away from your tattoos when you bumped into the person behind you.

"I'm so sorry," you told him, holding your hands up in surrender. "I'm not used to the heat."

He smiled at you. "You're not from Miami."

You shook your head. "No. And I actually think my blood got too thick after living in Chicago? Is that a thing? Are you from Miami?" You eyed him up and down. He was handsome, and his clothes looked pristine, like he was somehow magically avoiding sweating to death.

"Born and raised. And never left," he confirmed. Even his smile was charming. "You're up," he nodded with his chin, letting you know it was your turn to order.

"Oh, thanks," you mumbled, reaching for your wallet as you ordered an iced coffee. But he insisted on paying for your drink along with his, leaning slightly against your shoulder as he handed his credit card to the barista.

You turned to thank him once again, and his face was close to yours. As you opened your mouth, his eyes darted down to your lips.

"Do you want to get dinner with me tonight?" he asked, leaving you just staring at him for a beat.

"Wow," you laughed, startled that he was already asking you out. "Thank you, but no," you said, shaking your head, thoughts of Bradley filling you up and making you warm.

He just nodded once. "You're not wearing a ring. Are you seeing someone?"

You took your iced coffee from the barista and said, "Something like that."

"Well, you don't sound so sure," he replied, grabbing his drink and following you to the door. "We could just go out as friends."

"Friends?" you asked with a laugh. "You don't even know my name."

"You could tell me," he said, his tone hopeful now.

But you just shook your head and told him, "I have an early flight tomorrow. But thanks anyway." You made your way outside as he called after you, but you didn't look back.

The next morning you flew back to Virginia for a few days, before continuing on to San Diego.

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

Bradley could only spend so many hours per day working out. And when he wasn't flying a mission or eating a meal, he was usually looking at pictures of you on his phone.

He had texted you almost nonstop when he first boarded the aircraft carrier in the port in San Diego, finally calling you to hear your voice one more time before he was out of range of phone service. He kept replaying the way you said 'I love you, Beer Boy. Be safe.' before you ended the call.

You had texted him a few newer photos of yourself. Nothing crazy, but he still felt his entire body stir every time he looked at them. Which was frequently.

And when he had to take matters into his own hands, he thought about that UVA study room, and how fucking happy you made him feel. He thought about your tiny office and your bedroom. He thought about how it felt to have you wash his hair.

He could not stop thinking about you. He tried, but it didn't work. The fact that he hadn't imagined that perfect weekend with you was almost too much to bear. Now that he'd had you in his life again, he couldn't go without.

Bradley assumed you had visited both schools by now, and he was almost hoping he didn't get another chance to have a facetime call. Because he would try to use it on you. And he was terrified you were going to break his heart again, something he could better brace himself to handle from the comfort of his own home. He would call you then.

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

San Diego had a lot of things going for it, primarily the weather. You seemed to be able to go outside in the middle of the day in August without nearly passing out here. Miami definitely lost points for that one.

You also liked the beaches better. They were a little more rustic and not as crowded. Everything moved at a bit of a slower pace, and you thought you could get used to that.

But your office space would be smaller, and the labs were not as updated. The salary was also a bit lower. You had called Veronica a few times, trying to sort through all of your feelings and expectations.

And you honestly tried your best to remove Bradley from the equation, just like he had asked you to. But when you did that, it was almost an even split. Neither school seemed to be able to pull through and clench the top spot.

As you paced up and down the windswept San Diego beach at sunset, you just felt like crying. You were afraid of disappointing yourself, but you were even more afraid of making the wrong decision where Bradley was concerned.

You knew what you wanted to do, but you didn't know how well he was going to take the news when he was back on land again. But you swiped away your tears and checked the time on your phone. You needed to go meet up with someone very important.

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

Bradley was up and pacing in his khaki uniform, and it wasn't even light outside yet. He thought he could barely see land in the distance from the observation lounge, but maybe that was just his mind playing tricks on him. He wanted to get back, needed to be able to talk to you.

It had been six weeks. And it had felt almost as painful to him as the previous ten years without you. Because all of his memories were fresher now, a little more crisp around the edges. Your voice had faded in his mind, but was never quite forgotten. But now he could hear everything so clearly.

He wondered if you were still in Virginia. Maybe you would let him come see you again for a weekend, prolong the pain and suffering if necessary. It would be worth it to be with you again, even if you left him after that to go to Miami.

"Come on," he muttered, checking his phone to see if he had service yet. He needed to make sure Nat remembered to pick him up, but then he would plan the rest of his day around whenever you were available to talk to him.

There was no way his eyes were playing tricks now. He shielded the sun from his face with his hand and squinted, and he could definitely see land. He'd be on the dock in an hour tops, and now he was starting to feel very anxious. So he jogged out onto the walkway to get some fresh air, but even that barely helped.

Suddenly his phone started vibrating with dozens of messages and alerts, letting him know he finally had phone reception. So he called Nat with a pounding heart.

"Rooster!" she greeted when she answered after one ring. "Are you docked already? I haven't left my house yet."

"No," he said, his voice a little shaky. "Getting there, but not quite yet. Less than an hour."

"Okay, I'll leave soon. And before you ask, yes I started your dumb Bronco for you once a week."

That got him to laugh. "Thanks."

But he could always count on Nat to know exactly what was going on with him. "Are you going to call her soon and see what she's doing?"

He cleared his throat a few times. "You know, I thought I could wait until I got home and got settled. But I think I need to call her now, Nat. I'm a mess."

"I know," she replied softly. "I understand that you need to know what's going on. Just give her the benefit of the doubt, okay? Hear her out and don't judge her decision?"

Bradley raked his fingers through his hair. "I could never judge her, Nat. I just can't stop thinking about her."

"You thought about her the whole time?"

He sighed and turned away from the early morning sunlight. "The whole time."

"Oh, Bradley. Those ten years did nothing, did they?"

"No. Nothing."

Nat hummed through the phone before saying, "I'll see you soon."

Bradley paced the length of the carrier, grasping his phone in his hand. It would be late morning in Virgina. He could call you now. But if you crushed him on the spot, he would definitely prefer to be at home while he cried and drank himself into a state of forgetfulness.

If you told him you were going to Miami, but you still wanted him, he would somehow make it work. But if you told him you were going to Miami and that he wasn't going to fit in your life, he was going to have to do all of the things he really didn't want to do. Delete all the photos of you. Delete your phone number. Try to move on for good.

Because it felt like a blessing that he ran into you again last month, but he knew there would never be a third chance for him.

"Fuck," he grunted, unable to wait another minute. He pulled up your contact in his phone and looked at the recent picture of you before tapping the screen

One ring. Two. Three. Four.

"Bradley?"

"Sugar," he gasped, feeling lightheaded and dizzy.

"Hi! Are you back in San Diego now?" you asked, your voice impossibly soothing even though he knew it could break him.

"Almost," he replied, wishing he didn't have to talk over the sound of your soft breaths instead of just listening. "I can see the dock now."

"You're still on the aircraft carrier?" you asked.

"Yeah, Sugar. I couldn't wait another minute to call you." He took a deep breath. "Did you visit both schools?"

You paused for a beat. "Of course I did. I promised you I would."

He squeezed his eyes shut and asked, "How did you like Miami?"

"It was great," you told him, and his heart sank. "The offer is incredible. They have the most state of the art lab facilities I have seen since Chicago. And the offices are huge."

Bradley was cradling his forehead in his hand, thinking about getting dumped by you in his fraternity house. Thinking about how that didn't hurt as much as this potentially could.

He forced out the words. "And if you pick Miami, where does that leave us, Sugar?"

"Bradley? I'm actually meeting up with someone shortly here. Can I call you back later?"

His heart was pounding, and he let out a little laugh, because he knew he'd let you get away with this kind of shit forever. Which was why he would have to stop himself. "Yeah."

"Great, I'll talk to you soon. And Bradley?"

"Yeah, Sugar?"

"I love you."

You ended the call before he could respond. He didn't know what to think as he slowly made his way back to his bunk to gather his things together. He waited in line to deboard the carrier, and once he was on the dock, he heard Nat yelling his name.

"God, you're loud," Bradley told her, scooping her up into a tight hug. "I could hear you a mile away." He felt a little bit better now as she rubbed his back and let him hug her.

"In spite of all of your flaws, I missed you," she told Bradley with a smile, leading the way toward her car. Bradley grumbled a bit, shifting around trash and food wrappers before he could even climb in.

"This is disgusting," he said, nearly gagging as something sticky met his arm. But the terror that was the interior of his best friend's car took his mind off of you for a moment.

"That's just because you're a neat freak."

"I always have been," he agreed, "but this is next level, Nat. So gross."

As she pulled out into traffic, Bradley turned the radio on and listened to Nat tell him about work.

"What else did you get up to while I was gone?" he asked, rubbing his hands along his face.

"Oh, well I met up with a new friend I made on Instagram."

"Instagram?" he asked. "Really?"

"Yeah, she's new to the area," Nat said, giving him side eye. "I actually really think you guys would get along. I could introduce you?"

He turned to face her as she waited at a traffic light. "Nat. Come on. You know I'm waiting on Sugar." Saying the words out loud brought back his bout of nerves, and he kicked some trash out of the way so he could stretch his legs out.

"I know. It was just an idea," she said, zipping down the street once again.

"I called her," he admitted. "But we didn't talk much. She said she'd call me back."

"Really?" Nat asked, looking alarmed. "Do you know where she was?"

"Not sure. Probably Virginia, unless she already moved to Miami."

"Maybe she's out looking at apartments?" Nat asked, turning onto Bradley's street.

He didn't even want to fucking think about that. He pictured some soulless highrise in Miami, and he couldn't even imagine you there. Not after your cute little cottage with the crumbling front step. "Maybe," he mumbled, suddenly anxious to get inside his house and be alone.

Nat pulled her car in his driveway behind the Bronco; he loved that thing, and it couldn't even bring a smile to his face right now. "Thanks for the ride, Nat. I'd invite you in for some coffee, but I'm just not feeling up to it."

"No problem," she said, rubbing his shoulder with her small hand. "Why don't you call me later when you feel like it? Maybe we can get dinner or go to the Hard Deck?"

He sighed, popping the passenger door open. "Maybe."

When he started to climb out, Nat said, "Oh, Bradley. Almost forgot. I left something sweet inside for you. I hope you don't mind."

He just gave her a thumbs up, because if she went grocery shopping for him or left him something to eat, that was more than okay with him. He closed the door and waved to her, digging his house key out of the side pocket of his duffle as he walked up to his porch.

But then he froze. There was a bright yellow post-it note stuck to the middle of his pristine, white front door. He had even painted his door white for a reason, and he never wanted anything marring it. Except maybe for this.

He climbed the steps, tossing his duffle aside, and reached for the note.

BEER BOY

I love you

With shaky fingers, Bradley shoved his key into the lock and wrenched the door open.

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

You had been immensely enjoying your dinner with Natasha. Once the two of you had connected on Instagram while Bradley was away, you made plans to meet her in person while you were looking at San Diego State. And now you fully understood why she was Bradley's best friend.

"I feel like I already knew you!" Nat said with a bright smile over drinks and dessert. "Is that weird? That this doesn't feel like I'm meeting a stranger?"

"No, it's not weird," you agreed with a laugh.

"Bradley has told me so much about you over the last decade. I know more about you than I do any of his other more recent girlfriends, and I'd actually met them in person," she indulged over a glass of wine and some cheesecake. "Maybe I shouldn't be telling you that." She winced at you.

You took a deep breath. "Here, I'll make us even. I got a tattoo in honor of Bradley after I moved to Chicago."

Nat just rolled her eyes. "I already knew that. He told me over facetime like three weeks ago."

You buried your face in your hands as she chuckled. Then you groaned. "I know which school I want to pick. But I think Bradley is going to have a hard time coming to terms with it."

Nat's eyes went wide. "What does that mean?"

"Well...." you began, pausing to collect your thoughts. "If I tell him I picked the University of Miami, I'm afraid I'll break his heart, and mine. Again. But, if I tell him I picked San Diego State, he's going to act all high and mighty, and tell me I shouldn't be making this decision for him."

Nat set her empty wine glass down a little hard. "You know, you're absolutely right! But he's just going to have to get the fuck over it! I know he loves you, and he would be so happy to be with you. So if you want to move to San Diego, don't let him try to stop you."

You both looked at each other before bursting into laughter. "He's making this a lot more complicated than it needs to be!" you groaned.

"He's the worst," she said, nodding in agreement. "But also the best."

"Yeah, he really is," you agreed with a small smile, really missing him right now. "Well, this was so much fun, but it's getting late." You noticed it looked like your waiter was hoping you'd vacate the table soon so he could leave.

"I hope you do pick San Diego. We could hang out," Nat said, setting down some cash on the table.

"Oh, didn't I make it clear? I'm definitely picking San Diego."

Nat actually squealed and ran around the small table to hug you. You let yourself relax into her embrace. "I'm so happy for Bradley," she muttered, releasing you with a huge smile.

"When he's being a noble pain in my ass about it, I'm calling you for help. But for now, I'm going to head back to my hotel room."

Nat grinned at that. "Why don't you just stay at his house? I have a spare key."

Your eyes went a little wide. "Without him there? You don't think he would mind?"

"No. I think he would love that."

And so you ended up staying at Bradley's house for three nights. It was just as surreal as running into him at the bar had been! His house was spotless, just like you expected it to be. But when Nat gave you a little tour, you were shocked to see so many familiar things. The spare bedroom had a framed Grateful Dead concert poster that you remember from his bedroom at the Beta house. And his office was complete with a solid wood desk and his dad's Navy desk lamp.

But after Nat left you on your own, it became increasingly difficult not to be nosy. On the morning he was due to arrive back home, you were running your fingers along his bookshelves, and you came in contact with something familiar. You pulled down your old, purple notebook from your differential equations class.

"Oh my goodness," you gasped, flipping through the pages. Because along with your old math notes, you saw little doodles and messages in the margins that matched Bradley's handwriting. You closed your eyes, and you could perfectly picture the way you used to sit on his lap in the study room while he messed around with your notes. He had written your name surrounded by a bunch of little hearts. You saw where he had written Beer Boy and Sugar with some cute little stick figures, and you laughed.

He had been moving around all over the world, and bringing this notebook with him everywhere. Your eyes filled with tears, and the desire to be with him was so strong.

And then he was calling you. You were so nervous to see him, and you didn't want to get into your decision over the phone, so you tried to throw him off.

"Bradley? I'm actually meeting up with someone shortly here. Can I call you back later?"

He sounded so dejected, so you made sure you told him you loved him before ending the call. Then you made his bed and quickly tried to tidy up his house. You fixed your hair and makeup, but he still wasn't back yet. Nat had sent you a quick text as soon as she saw him on the dock, but that had been quite a while ago.

You were pacing the length of his living room now, terrified that he would be annoyed that you'd spent a few days here. Then you heard a car in the driveway and peeked out through the window to see Nat's dirty car.

"Oh god," you whispered, finally getting to see Bradley after six weeks. He looked so handsome, and you had missed him so much. You scrambled back to the middle of the room when you saw him walk up the porch steps, a look of shock on his face.

The sound of the key in the lock and the way he swung the white door open wide had you chewing on your lip.

"Sugar?" he asked, standing in his entryway and gaping at you.

"Hi, Beer Boy," was all you could manage to say as your heart pounded in your ears. But he looked so stunned, you felt yourself start to smile.

He took a few steps closer to you. "What are you doing here, baby?"

You felt like you could melt inside. Just the sight of him in his uniform had you aching. He was gorgeous, and you loved him so much. You took a step closer as well.

"I was actually wondering if it was okay if I had my boxes shipped here? I don't have an office for another week or so, and I'm still looking at apartments."

He was running one hand through his hair, making it stand on end, and his mouth was open, but no words were coming out.

"Unless...you don't want me to?" you whispered, watching him slowly close the distance between the two of you until he was standing barely a foot away.

"Please, Sugar. Please tell me what that means."

You swallowed hard, looking up at him. You gently ran your hands up to rest on his chest. "I'm picking San Diego. I'm picking you. I'm picking us. If that's still what you want, too?"

A strangled sound escaped his lips, and then his mouth was on yours and you were in his arms. He kissed you deeply as your arms gripped his shoulders, and he held you tight.

"You mean that?" he asked between kisses, nibbling at your lips, barely giving you a chance to answer as he deepened the kiss. Just as you were relaxing into his embrace, he pulled his lips from yours. "You really mean it, Sugar?"

"I really mean it, Beer Boy."

He closed his eyes and ran one hand over his face, sighing deeply. But he still held you snug against him. Then he opened his eyes and gazed down at you.

"I've been dreaming about this for ten years," he whispered, brown eyes soft. "I love you."

"I love you, too," you replied with a smile.

He nodded, and you ran your fingers along his mustache, making him smile. "You can send all your stuff here, Sugar." He kissed your fingers. "You should move in with me. Don't leave or look at more apartments. Stay here."

It felt right. You knew it did. Just like San Diego State felt like the place for you. "Okay. I'll stay."

He licked his lips and kissed your forehead twice, pulling you impossibly closer to him. "And be my girlfriend again?" he whispered against your hair.

You smiled and buried your face against the collar of his uniform shirt. "You were the best boyfriend I ever had. You can have the title again."

"I love you," he whispered, over and over until his lips found yours again.

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

It feels soooo good! But, only two more parts to this story! Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls (The cover banner is the Jon Langston album cover!)

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@callsigndiamond

@harper1666

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@beebslebobs

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@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@monte-carlando

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@apparently-sunshine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@topgunbb

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@callsign-jupiter

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@andycanbeemotional

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@starlightstories

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@hecate-steps-on-me

@xoxabs88xox

#this is happening #its a happily ever after #rooster fanfic #and the purple notebook

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i-will-be-there-one-day · 2 years ago

Text

“But he'd be lying if he said he wasn't thinking of ways to get a transfer to Florida if you picked Miami. He couldn't live without you now. “

Beer boy would go to the ends of the the earth for sugar, and at this point I think she would too

Right Girl, Wrong Time Part 7 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Your weekend is over and you say goodbye to Bradley, but you both hope that it won't be another ten years before seeing each other again. Bradley was desperate for more of you, and this time, he'd make sure to do whatever he needed to get it. He just needs you to fulfill your end of the deal first.

Warnings: Smut, fluff, swears, and angst

Length: 3400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a sequel to accompany my story Old Habits Die Hard (you'll want to read that one first)!

Check my profile for my masterlist

You didn't want to move. Ever. You just wanted to lay here on top of Bradley on your bed in your little house. Keep him with you forever.

This moment was too perfect. His hands rubbed your back underneath the soft fabric of his Grateful Dead shirt, and he was singing to you. He was singing the lyrics of your tattoo, with something extra added on.

You don't know how easy it is to love you, Sugar.

Part of you wanted to fall asleep like this, absorbing his body heat, and his voice, and his love. But you didn't know for sure when you'd get to see him again. You didn't want to think about the possibility that you might not.

Because admitting that you loved each other ten years ago and saying you still felt that way now.... well, that didn't necessarily mean that you and Bradley would be able to mesh your separate lives together into something you could both live with. Although, this weekend that you got to spend reunited with him did feel more serendipitous than you'd like to admit. Your mind was still reeling, still searching for the logic in this situation.

When Bradley stopped singing and you felt his fingers at the back of your neck, you sighed and let yourself enjoy this moment. After you pressed your lips to his scars, you asked him, "Will you send me those selfies you texted to Nat?"

Bradley studied your face, and even with the soft lighting, you could tell his cheeks were flushing with color. "Sure." He kissed you gently and then slipped out from under you to retrieve his phone from the bathroom while you located yours under a pile of discarded clothing on your floor.

"What is it?" you asked, when he sprawled out on your bed once more. "You're blushing right now, Beer Boy."

He handed you his unlocked phone and cleared his throat as you crawled over next to him. "You can send them to yourself. I already saved them to a folder."

"Okay," you said, taking his phone and looking at the wallpaper, which was a picture of his Super Hornet. "Which folder?"

You tapped on the photo gallery and it opened to neatly organized pictures with labels and dates. He had things pertaining to his aircraft, one labeled 'House Projects', and then you saw one that made you suck in a short breath.

There was a folder labeled 'Sugar' at the top of the gallery.

"You have a whole folder of...me?"

He just nodded, his brows furrowed now. "The passcode is your birthday. Text whatever you want to yourself." You could tell he was trying for a tone of nonchalance, but it wasn't translating as cool as he probably thought it was. You typed in your four digit birthday, and the folder opened.

At the top you saw the selfies he had taken just a few hours ago, the ones he sent to his best friend. You started to select them, but then decided to scroll down to see more.

"I thought you said you had one picture of us that you showed to Nat and Bob," you whispered, but Bradley just shrugged.

The folder was filled with candid shots of you from ten years ago at frat parties and in the library study room. There were some where you were smiling and biting your lip, others where you were concentrating on a textbook and paying him no mind. He had even taken a picture of his bedroom door at some point, on which he had written 'SUGAR what's your number?'

"Bradley," you whispered, but he was running his hand through his hair and looking at the ceiling. The pictures you had taken to make Phoebe jealous were all there, too. You and he were in the kitchen at the Beta house, enjoying your fake spring break together. There were photos of you kissing and licking his lips, one of you sucking melted chocolate off of his fingers, and several of Bradley touching and kissing your bare breasts.

"I took those to make Phoebe jealous," you whispered, looking at him while he still avoided your gaze. "I thought you would have deleted them."

He shook his head. "Couldn't bring myself to. Couldn't delete any of them."

You paused for a beat, looking at a selfie of the two of you a few weeks before graduation. He was standing behind you with his arms wrapped around you and his chin resting on your shoulder. You both looked unbelievably happy.

"Did your other girlfriends mind that you kept these?"

Bradley rolled his eyes at you. "Why do you think it has a passcode? None of them knew about it."

You bit your lip and inched closer until your knees were bumping his side. "Do you have a folder for each of your other ex girlfriends, too?" you asked softly.

Bradley finally reached for you, pulling you so you were straddling his lap and looking down at him. "You see any other folders in there?"

You didn't need to scroll to know he only had a folder of you, so you shook your head and started selecting all of the pictures in the 'Sugar' folder to send to yourself.

"It's just you," Bradley whispered. "I've only ever been in love with you."

You hit send and leaned down to kiss him while your phone lit up across the bed.

"I can't fucking believe I could have been texting you this whole time," he said as you kissed his cheek. "I figured you'd blocked me permanently. Or that you had a different phone number. I thought you were probably married."

You laughed and asked, "Would you have really texted me?"

"Hell no," Bradley replied, holding you against him. "Couldn't deal with the disappointment of you not remembering who I was."

You kissed him for a long time. Eventually you both slipped under the blankets, rolling onto your sides and sharing the softest touches. Every gentle brush of his lips against yours felt like the promise he made to you, felt like he would wait to hear your answer after you visited both schools.

"You think I could forget you? I've only ever been in love with you too, Bradley."

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

Every time Bradley pulled you close to him, you lit him up with your laughter. "I don't want to leave," he whined over and over again as you and he made breakfast together on Sunday morning. He couldn't stop touching you through the soft fabric of his old shirt. "Fuck the Navy. I'm staying here."

"You don't mean that," you said with a smile. "Don't you miss your friends? And your Super Hornet?" You were being coy now, and he didn't know if it was because you were going to miss him too, or because you wanted to know where you ranked.

Bradley groaned dramatically. "I don't miss Nat. She was downright sweet to you when you were texting last night. But she's never that nice to me. And I guess I miss flying, but pretty soon, I'll be doing that every day for six weeks."

"That's true, I suppose."

While you tried to plate some pancakes, Bradley whispered, "I'd rather be doing you every day for six weeks."

You giggled and looked up at him over your shoulder. "You always were smooth, Beer Boy. Too smooth for your own good. But does that mean you'll be thinking about me at night? On the aircraft carrier? When you're tired and unable to sleep?"

His eyes drifted closed. Now he had a whole arsenal of images he just knew would be circulating through his mind; 21 year old Sugar and 31 year old Sugar. Both too sweet for him, but exactly what he wanted.

"Not only then. I'll be thinking about you a lot. Waiting to hear from you as soon as I dock back in San Diego."

You fed him bites of pancake while he caged you in against the kitchen counter. "How will I know when you get back? Do they tell you the date ahead of time?"

"Yeah, but sometimes it changes according to the weather and mission parameters. I'll text you as soon as I can. Don't worry about that. You can tell me about the schools, and we can talk on the phone and catch up."

"Okay," you agreed, setting the food off to the side and wrapping your arms around him. And now Bradley was feeling guilty again. He shouldn't be talking to you like this right now. There were too many things up in the air. But he'd be lying if he said he wasn't thinking of ways to get a transfer to Florida if you picked Miami. He couldn't live without you now.

He took your face in both of his hands, running his thumb along your swollen lips and smiling at the dark smudges under your eyes. Neither of you had slept much last night, and Bradley had been kissing you almost nonstop. "I love you, Sugar."

Your eyes drifted closed briefly before you nodded against his hands. "I never thought I'd hear you say that."

"I don't know if I can stop now."

"Don't."

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

After you ate, you spent hours in your bed with Bradley, talking and touching each other. Your words grew softer, and you found yourself clinging to him a bit more as the morning turned to early afternoon. You were laughing, and he was kissing your shoulder when suddenly a soft sob escaped your lips.

He pulled back to look up at you, but you just shook your head. "I don't want you to leave."

Then he was looking at you like he was in agony. "I would stay if I could. You know that, right?"

"Yeah."

"Our timing kind of sucks, but maybe we can figure it all out. You're smart, Sugar," he murmured as his lips found your tattoos. "You'll figure it out and let me know where I stand." When you opened your mouth to tell him you could figure it all out right now, he kissed your lips. "But not yet," he added.

Did this man really think you'd fall in love with Miami more than you loved him? You almost laughed, but then he was sucking on one of the spots on your neck that was still tender from last night's activities.

"Bradley," you whined softly. He was hard and pressing against your clit just right. His tongue and lips were soothing your neck only to be met with his prickly mustache.

"I need to leave soon, baby. Tell me how you need it."

The most unholy moan left your lips, and you were surprised you could sound that needy. "Slow. Just go slow."

He nodded against you, sliding through your silky wetness and entering you so leisurely, it somehow felt filthy. When you tried to press up against him to take him faster and deeper, Bradley scolded you.

"No, no. You're getting it slow, Sugar. It's what you need. I need it, too."

"Fuck," you gasped, winding your fingers in his pretty hair while he spread your pussy wide, squeezing your thighs. "Bradley."

And you knew this might be your last time with him like this. At least for a while.

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

Bradley was in heaven, basking in the little sounds you made just for him. You had told him he was the best and that you still loved him. But he wanted to be your only one.

As he worked his thumb softly along your clit, he paused his ministrations each time he felt you clench around him. "Please." Your voice was soft and broken, and after he'd taken you close but not all the way a few times, you were begging. "Bradley."

He responded by kissing his name on your lips and tasting your tongue. He swiped his fingers against your clit just the way you liked it best, and you anchored yourself to him with your fingers tugging on his hair.

"Shh, nice and slow," he grunted next to your ear, and once again you were clenching around him. Your moans were building like a crescendo, and soon he was panting just like you were. "I love you. I'd wait forever to be with you again."

He watched a tear leak from the corner of your eye, and he kissed it away as you came on his cock. Bradley rocked into you slowly, watching you squeeze your eyes shut as he filled you up, rubbing his lips and mustache along your neck.

Finally you were looking up at him again, and he was just as mesmerized by your beautiful, expressive face now as he had been in college. Your voice was soft and spent as you whispered, "I love you, too, Beer Boy."

But he knew it was time to leave you. The idea of being away from you again had him panicking like it did before. What if you changed your mind while he was gone for six weeks? Completely out of contact with you? "I'm not going anywhere, Sugar. But I do need to leave."

"I understand." You smiled softly at him, and then your lip quivered as your eyes filled with tears. Bradley withdrew himself from the comfort of your body and wrapped you in his arms.

"I'll text you when I get back. You can let me know when you're able to call me, and we can figure this shit out, okay? I'll text you before I even text Nat, and she's the one who's supposed to pick me up."

You laughed softly against his ear. "Promise me you'll be safe when you're deployed."

He kissed your temple. "Sugar, you know I can't promise you that. But I can promise you that I love you now, and I will still love you in six weeks no matter what happens." He held onto you until the last possible minute, knowing he'd miss his flight if he waited any longer.

When he stood up and started to gather his clothes, you tracked his movements with your eyes. "I'll come to the airport with you. I can Uber back," you told him, jumping out of bed and pulling on the tie dyed shirt and some shorts.

Bradley watched you move around your bedroom, slipping on shoes and grabbing your purse before tucking yourself against his chest.

"We're just prolonging the inevitable, baby."

"I don't care," you replied defiantly. "I'll get an extra thirty minutes with you."

The way you could make Bradley's heart soar left him grinning. "Alright, Sugar. Let's get me to the airport."

The ride was quiet, but you held his hand in both of yours while he drove, and he sang a few Grateful Dead songs. "Sing me my song," you demanded softly, kissing his fingers.

Bradley laughed softly. "You know, you're so perfect, Sugar, it probably was somehow written with you in mind." And then he sang for you until he pulled into the airport to return his rental car.

You kept a firm hold on his hand until you walked him as far as you could go without a boarding pass. When Bradley set down his bag to give you a proper goodbye, your lips were immediately on his. "I love you, Beer Boy," you whispered between kisses. The brush of your lips against his mustache had him holding you tight against him, and he dug his fingers gently into the back of your neck. He kissed you so hard, you were moaning into his mouth, swiping his tongue with yours.

"I never stopped loving you," he panted, breaking away and resting his cheek against your forehead. "You seemed like a mirage the other night, at the bar. I never thought I'd get a chance to look at you again."

You laughed softly. "You can do more than look at me, Bradley. Anytime you want."

Bradley wanted a commitment now. He could feel in his very bones how right that would be. But this wasn't the time for it. "Remember what you promised me."

You nipped along his jaw, saying, "I'll look at both schools, Lieutenant Bradshaw. And then I will report back to you when you are once again on dry land."

"That's my girl," he crooned, and your gaze met his with so many unspoken questions and answers. "I'll be thinking about you. Just like I always do." He kissed your cheek and then pressed his lips to your mouth in one final kiss before getting in line for security. You stood there in his favorite shirt and watched him until you couldn't see him any longer, your arms wrapped around your midsection while you cried.

He used his phone to call you a ride back to your house and texted you the information. You wrote back right away.

This was the best weekend of my life.

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

You were so antsy to talk to Bradley. You were thinking about him all the time now. As you sat on your desk in your office, eating a sandwich and looking at your packed boxes, you wondered if he was eating dinner. Or maybe it was the middle of the night where he was. Maybe he was thinking about you, too.

This room reminded you of him, and he had only been here once. This desk especially reminded you of him. When you passed Ted, the security guard on your way in earlier, you thought about Bradley while Ted blushed and greeted you softly.

And that's how it had been for the past two weeks. You had Beer Boy on your mind almost nonstop. Sure, he'd popped into your thoughts pretty frequently over the last ten years, but this was overpowering. Now that you knew you could reach him by phone if you wanted to, you hated that he was deployed and out of contact.

You sighed, giving in to your urge once more to scroll through Nat's Instagram page. You had already memorized every post with Bradley in it, but it didn't hurt to look once more. And then you told yourself it would be okay to look at all of the photos that had been in his secret Sugar folder.

You had to tip your head back and press your lips together to keep from moaning, because just the thought of Bradley keeping those pictures for ten years made you want him badly.

And then started the vicious cycle of hating deployments.

"Fuck," you groaned, tucking your phone away. You would drop your boxes off with your friend Veronica, and then you had another week in Virginia before you started your adventure.

First stop, Miami.

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

Bradley was laying in his tiny bed aboard the USS Ronald Reagan, thinking about you. He wondered if you were in Miami or San Diego yet. He wondered if you had visited either of the schools. He wondered if you had made a decision and how he would fit into it.

He was halfway through his deployment, and it had been so boring. Even though he desperately wanted to talk to you, he had decided to give you some space while he was gone. So instead, he'd used his one facetime call to talk to Nat, but he had spent most of it catching her up on his weekend in Virginia.

"You're still in love with her," Nat had said with dreamy eyes.

"Yes. I am still in love with her. And I've given her the power to break my heart a second time. Nat, I won't survive."

But in typical best friend fashion, she had been able to calm his nerves and tell him he needed to focus on work for now and give you some space. He would give you as much time and space as you wanted or needed, if he just knew for sure he could see you again.

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

They parted ways, and I want to cry. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls (The cover banner is the Jon Langston album cover!)

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@callsigndiamond

@harper1666

@throwinsauce

@beebslebobs

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@monte-carlando

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@apparently-sunshine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@topgunbb

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@callsign-jupiter

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@andycanbeemotional

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@starlightstories

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@hecate-steps-on-me

@xoxabs88xox

#the fucking feels #rooster x you #they were meant to be #and he wants to be in her life

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