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bellaireland1981 · 5 hours

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God lord that was hot!!!🥵 pregnancy hormones are no joke!!!!

Unbroken

Part 13

(previous part here, next part here)

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x You

Summary: The physical changes you’re experiencing are taking a toll along with the hormones and mood swings but Bradley is there to help.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Smut, oral (f receiving), spanking, a little humiliation, orgasm delay/denial, use of ‘good girl’, funishment, edging, p in v, pregnancy talk, body image talk, mentions of vomiting/morning sickness.

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Nervousness creeps back shortly after the ultrasound as Bradley drives towards the clinic, but it was all for nothing; Gav and Noah are happy for you.

“See? I told you they’d be okay with it,” Bradley says, nudging you with his elbow.

“You were nervous to tell us?” Noah asks, concerned. “Why?”

“Because you’ll have to pick up some of the slack with some of the unpredictable animals, not to mention when I’m on maternity leave,” you sigh, already feeling guilty.

“Just like you happily picked up the slack when I was off for 6 weeks for paternity leave?” Gav asks, cocking a brow.

“Yeah, or when my kiddo had surgery last summer and you covered for me?” Noah asks, squeezing your shoulder. “We’re happy for you. Both of you.”

“Thanks,” you reply, giving them both a hug before running to the bathroom to rid your stomach of the crackers you consumed down early.

“I’m sorry,” you say as you come out of the bathroom, belly still uneasy. “Hopefully that gets better soon.”

“I hope so for your sake,” Gav says. “Olivia was sick every day until her second trimester. Now take the rest of the day and we’ll figure everything else out next week, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree, letting Bradley lead you towards the door. “Thanks.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Can we stop by my parent’s house before we go home?” You ask, wanting nothing more than to go home and take a nap but you know news gets around fast in a small town.

“Of course,” Bradley replies, turning towards your childhood home. “You sure you’re up to it though?”

“Yeah,” you say, leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder. “I want to be the one to tell them. Jake doesn’t stand a chance if Ma talks to him before we do.”

“Alright,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“What’re you two doing here?” Ruth asks as she washes dishes by the sink. “Figured you outgrew playing hooky.”

You laugh. “I did. I haven’t been feeling good,” you reply, waiting for her to turn around as you hold up the ultrasound pictures in your ring-clad hand.

“Still?” She replies, turning off the water. “Maybe it’s time to make an appointment.”

“I already did,” you reply, smiling as she turns around, gasping at the images of her grandbaby.

“Tom! Get in here!” She calls to your dad out the open window before rushing over with a sob and a hug. “Oh Emma Lou, I’m so happy for you both!”

“Me too,” you agree, sniffing into her shoulder, crying now too. “That’s not all,” you say, pulling back to show her the ring.

She gasps, turning to Bradley and holding his face between her hands. “I knew it! I knew you were the one,” she smiles at him before wrapping him in a hug. “I’m so happy I get to call you my son.”

Your heart pinches and more tears flow as Bradley hugs her back; you wish now more than ever his parents were still here.

“What’s all this?” Tom asks, pausing by the door with a confused look.

You smile before filling him in on all the good news and you melt as your not-often-physically-affectionate dad hugs him.

“Happy to have you part of the family, son,” he says, clapping Bradley on the back as he fails to discreetly wipe his eye before making his way to you.

“Congrats kiddo,” your dad smiles as he wraps you in his arms for a hug. “You doing okay?” He murmurs, and you can tell he’s remembering the last time.

“I am now that the initial shock wore off,” you nod. “The morning sickness is kicking my ass and I’m so tired, but otherwise everything looks good.”

“Good,” he replies, holding you a little longer.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

The nausea wanes over the next week, while your libido multiplies tenfold. You’re craving rough, hot sex, but Bradley’s treating you like you’re made of glass and it’s driving you crazy.

“That’s the most action I’ve had in 2 weeks,” you grumpily tell Bradley at your first OB appointment as you change back into your clothes after the pelvic exam.

“Em, I-“ Bradley starts but is interrupted by the doctor coming back into the room.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“I’ll see you back in about 4 weeks then, let me know sooner if you need anything, okay?” The doctor says as she opens the door.

“Sounds good,” you reply, rising from your seat. “Thanks.”

“Why don’t you go ahead and make your next appointment, I just remembered a question I had,” Bradley says, kissing your cheek.

You agree, not thinking much of it until he joins you a few minutes later, cheeks ruddy and the tips of his ears red.

“What was your question?” You ask, now a little suspicious as you take the appointment card from the receptionist.

“Uh, I…“ he stammers as he opens the door to your truck. “I just want to make-“

He’s saved by his phone ringing. “Sorry, I’ve gotta take this, it’s my CO.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Your mood sours on the short drive home. The worst part is you know you’re being irrational but you can’t help it.

Bradley finishes the call when he pulls into your driveway and you get out, slamming the door before he gets a chance to open it.

“Em! Hey! What’s wrong?” He asks, jogging up behind you.

Your hands shake as you try and unlock your door and you shake his off when he places them on your waist.

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong,” you lie with a huff, pushing the door open.

“Doesn’t seem that way,” he says softly, closing the door behind him. “I’m sorry, but I kind of have to take the call when it’s my CO.”

“I know, it’s not that,” you reply, frustratedly wiping hot tears. “I just want to have sex. I want you to want me like you did before I was pregnant. I know I was sick and I’ve been tired and I know my body is already changing and my boobs are getting huge and you can’t help it that you’re not attracted to me but-“

You gasp in surprise when he cuts you off with a deep, biting kiss. One hand weaves into your hair while the other slides down your back, into the pocket of your jeans, and pulls you into him so you can feel his hot, hard length.

You whine when his hand tightens the grip in your hair and he pulls you off his lips, forcing you to look at him. You shiver at the dark look in his eyes. “Does this,” he rocks against you and your eyes begin to drift but he pulls again until you open them, “feel like I’m not attracted to you?”

You shake your head as much as you can with the tight hold on your hair and bite your lip to keep from moaning.

This. This is what you’ve been craving.

“Exactly,” he groans as your hand comes up to palm him through his jeans. “Goddamn Em, the past 2 weeks have been killing me. I’ve wanted you more than ever. You’re somehow even sexier but I wanted to get the okay from the doctor before we did anything because of your previous loss.”

“That’s what you were asking the doctor? Why didn’t you tell me that?” You ask softly, hand pausing.

He nods, face flushing again. “Yeah, wanted to make sure what we used to do isn’t going to hurt anything. I also didn’t want you to think I was pressuring you, especially since I thought you didn’t want it,” he replies, kissing your forehead.

“Well I do want it,” you say, leaning back in for a kiss. You smile against his lips when he groans as you begin palming him again. “So fucking much.”

“And you’ll get it,” he murmurs and sighs before stilling your hand with reluctance, “but there’s something I gotta do first.”

“What’s that?” You ask, squeezing him before he pulls your hand away completely.

“You’ll see,” he replies with a nip to your bottom lip. The look on his face is full of dark, dirty, delicious promises. “Now go get undressed. I want you naked and on the bed when I come in,” he murmurs, turning you towards the bedroom before landing a slap to your jean-clad bottom. “Don’t make me wait.”

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“Yes sir,” you say teasingly over your shoulder, catching the heat that crosses his expression at your words.

Once you’re out of his line of sight, you quickly peel off your clothes before lying back on the bed. The anticipation is making you desperate and your hand slips between your thighs, gathering your arousal before circling your clit.

You choke back a moan when your other hand brushes your oversensitive nipples; the light touch has your back arching as your release races toward you. A minute more of those sweet touches combined with the thought of Bradley catching you in the act is enough to push you over the edge. You bite your lip to stay quiet, tasting blood as you tremble through wave after wave of pleasure.

Bradley’s soft “fuck” startles your eyes open. The sight of him naked, gripping the base of his cock so he doesn’t cum has you rubbing your thighs together.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly, as your head falls back to the pillows, “I couldn’t wait anymore.”

“Obviously,” he smirks, coming to the foot of the bed once he’s got himself under control. He grips your ankles and you squeal when he pulls you toward him.

He leans forward and licks into you with a satisfied hum. “God, you taste so fucking good,” he murmurs against you before flicking your clit and rising to his full height. “I was planning on making you cum before I do this, but you already did.”

“Before you do what?” You ask as he helps you to your feet.

But he ignores your question, instead kissing you like before. Again his hand combs into your hair while the other grasps the flesh of your ass. He kisses you deeply and possessively, leaving you breathless when he pulls you off him.

“What…what are doing?” you ask as he turns you around before bending you over.

A sharp slap to your ass steals the breath from your lungs.

“Something I should’ve done a long time ago,” he says sternly as he rubs the sting out before laughing. “I’m kidding. Is this something you still want to try?”

A new wave of arousal rushes between your legs as you nod.

You whimper as he slaps your other cheek. “Use your words.”

“Yes, I want to try…this,” you answer.

Another stinging slap has you gasping.

“I said, use your words,” he repeats lowly, spanking you again.

“Yes! I want you to spank me,” you admit before burying your burning face in the comforter.

“There’s my good girl,” he purrs, and you squirm as he ruts against you. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

“No,” you admit, turning your head to smirk up at him. “That wasn’t hard, but you sure are.”

He chuckles before giving you a few more sharp slaps. “Naughty girl.”

“Am not,” you laugh but it turns into a moan when he spanks you again, a bit harder this time.

Soon the heat from your burning skin settles lower between your legs and your slick coats your thighs. You’re again desperate for relief; the vulnerable position he’s put you in, the dominance that’s radiating off him and the naughtiness from it all is driving you crazy in the best way.

“I’m sorry for touching myself before you came in. Will you please fuck me now?” You rasp after he cups you with a groan, feeling how affected you are.

“Hmm,” he pretends to think about it as he licks his fingers clean before slotting his weeping cock between your reddened cheeks. “Not yet.”

You try to rub your thighs together for some friction, groaning in frustration when he gently kicks your ankles further apart.

“You’re in trouble for more than just touching what’s mine,” he murmurs, leaning forward to kiss the knobs of your spine. His voice grows softer as he continues, “I don’t ever want to hear you say that I’m not attracted to you again. I’ll always want you; next week, in 8 months, when you’re delivering our baby, afterward, in 50 years…forever. Okay?”

“Okay,” you say, blinking back the tears filling your eyes. “Now will you fuck me?” You ask, breaking the heaviness as you push back towards him.

He laughs at your attempts against your back before lining himself up and slowly pushing in.

“Ye-no! Please baby,” you whine when he pulls out before he even gets all the way in.

“Not yet,” he says again with a dark chuckle before giving you a few more stinging swats.

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Bradley finally relents when your legs begin to tremble nearly an hour later. An hour that felt like an eternity with the sweet torture he’s put you through. Alternating between gentle pinches and tugs of your nipples as he fucked you with slow, shallow thrusts, pulling out again when you were on the cusp of release just to re-redden your ass before kneeling to lick up the wetness coating your thighs. He reveled in the anguished cries you made when he denied you again before repeating the cycle.

“P-please, oh God…please,” you plead when he finally thrusts all the way inside you. “No more teasing.”

“Alright. No more teasing,” he agrees, panting against your back as his hand slides over your side to find your breast to gently pinch your nipple. “You-fuck! You’re so good for me.”

Your hoarse scream is muffled by the comforter as an orgasm rips through you.

Bradley curses as you contract around him, slowing his thrusts so he doesn’t cum yet.

“More,” you mumble, pushing your hips back against his before you even come down. “One more.”

“Okay, my greedy girl,” he laughs breathlessly, sliding his hand down to rub over your clit. “I’ll give you one more.”

“I’ll do this,” you say, moving his hand to your hip and putting your own fingers where his just were. “Just fuck me hard. I wanna feel it tomorrow.

“Fuckkkk,” he groans hotly when you squeeze him as you find your clit. “Yeah, yeah, okay,” he agrees, finally giving you what you’ve been craving with deep, punishing thrusts.

“Like that, yes! Just like that,” you cry, each roll of his hips rubbing your g-spot.

“G-get there for me,” Bradley pants as he pulls you up, your chest against his back. Your head falls back to his shoulder as you approach the edge. “Yeah, that’s my girl,” he rasps when you begin to tighten around him.

You gasp as your vision goes white and your ears ring as you cum harder than ever have before. Bradley’s right there with you, unable to hold off when you clench around him like a vice.

He cums with a choked shout of your name as he releases deep inside you.

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A/N: Welllllllll the cat(s) are out of the bag. This was very much my experience pregnant-super hormonal and my mood changed so fast I gave my husband whiplash 🥴 the whole body image thing was a page from my own book as well, but of course Bradley knows just how to reassure her.

Also-Bradley definitely asked the doctor if rough sex would hurt the baby after doing an extensive Google search 😂

Also also-I’m wrapping this one up! 1-2 more chapters I’m thinking.

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love hearing what you think in comments/reblogs!

Tagging (please let me know if you want to be added/removed!):

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bellaireland1981 · 12 hours

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Keleigh posted on tiktok

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bellaireland1981 · 20 hours

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Bradley Wins!! Watch for that one shot closer to the weekend!!! For my Jake lovers…. Next week I promise to get you! 🫶🏻

Updates this week!

I SWEAR! I am updating:

STARTING OVER Ch 16.

FINDING FREEDOM part 3!

and if I can find inspiration (and time) MAYBE ........

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bellaireland1981 · 22 hours

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😂�� omg I laughed so hard! Natasha is legit the queen here! She wins best friend HANDS DOWN! Drunk Daddy is ADORABLE! 🥰 I cannnnnot wait for the wedding!!

The Younger Kind Part 60 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Your bachelorette outing and Bradley's bachelor party are both hosted by the same person, but they couldn't be more different. Spending an evening at home with Noah is reminiscent of your babysitting days, but now he's asking you some pertinent questions.

Warnings: pregnancy topics, swearing, smut, drinking, angst, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4500 words

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

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Natasha was outside in her SUV on the driveway, ready to pick you up for your bachelorette outing. You refused to call it a bachelorette party since it was just the two of you going out for the evening, but Bradley made sure his best friend knew to spare no expense when it came to anything you wanted.

"It's just pedicures and pottery," you whispered against Bradley's lips with a smile as he held you close so he could feel your round belly against his body. "I'll be home in a few hours."

He grunted softly, kissing you a little deeper before releasing your lips. "We'll still miss you," he murmured, letting his hands roam along your hips while Noah sat on the area rug and worked on one of the new coloring books you picked up for him. "And don't overdo it." When Natasha started honking her horn, he let his forehead rest on your shoulder. "She's the worst."

You just laughed and kissed his cheek as you said, "She's the best, and you know it, Daddy."

It would have been impossible to dispute that fact. She was the one who took care of you when Bradley wasn't stateside. "Go have fun."

"Bye, Mommy!" Noah said, popping up to give you a hug when Bradley released you. He scooped his son up since he didn't want you lifting anything, and you gave Noah a kiss on the forehead.

"Have fun with Daddy," you told him, kissing him once more before heading outside to Nat's idling SUV.

Bradley stood on the porch with Noah and waved until you were out of sight, and then Noah asked, "Can we get Mommy a coloring book?"

"Hey," Bradley said, nudging the door open while also making sure Skittles didn't get outside without her leash on. "That's a great idea, Bub. Maybe a Princess coloring book? You can give it to her for the wedding?"

His son looked so much like a tiny version of himself, and he had to stifle his laughter as Noah nodded stoically and said, "Yeah, she'd like that. I have so many great ideas."

Bradley took him back inside, and they ended up stretched out on the floor together. Noah continued with his masterpiece while Bradley started searching for options on his phone. After a few minutes, he found an independent shop that made coloring books with different themes based on photos that you send to them. "Do you like this?" he asked his son, holding up his phone.

Noah looked at the sample pages as Bradley scrolled through them. He nodded and said, "Mommy is prettier than that."

"She absolutely is," Bradley replied as he realized the wedding was in a week and didn't know if a custom book could even be completed in that short amount of time. "Let me see if we can get something like this for her. If not, we can always save it for her birthday."

His son started to pout at the mere mention of having to wait longer for it, so Bradley started typing up a message to the owner of the shop, hoping that he'd be able to explain that it was for his wedding. Once that was done, he checked the time and asked, "Do you need a snack before dinner?"

"Ants on logs," Noah replied without missing a beat. Bradley had no problem with the healthy snacks you somehow tricked the two of them into eating, but he was always told he never got the peanut butter proportions right.

"Yeah, okay. I can try to make them the way you like-"

"Mommy left some in the fridge."

Bradley chuckled as he stood up, coaxing Noah to abandon his coloring project for the time being. "Of course she did. She's the best." Somehow even when you weren't here, you had everything covered.

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

"Okay, so if you could ditch Bradley and marry a celebrity, who would you pick?"

You burst out laughing in the pedicure chair next to Natasha with your hands resting on the roundest part of your belly. "Who said I would? Even if I could?" She gave you a look followed by an eye roll before you said, "You'll laugh at me, so I don't even want to say my answer."

"Just say it," she prompted as you dragged your foot through the warm water.

You groaned and said, "I like all the older, DILF-y actors."

Natasha started cackling as you covered your eyes with your hands. "You have a type!" she said amidst her laughter. "And your type is Rooster!"

You thought back to all the time you wasted with Greyson and other guys your age and grimaced. "I don't think that was always my type. It's a more recent development, and I'm not mad about it." You moved your hand on your belly and added, "Boy suck. Men are at least marginally better."

"Well," she said, leaning a little closer to you like she had a secret. "You found a good one. Or rather, I kind of found you for him. But regardless, he's a keeper. Kind of because he has Noah."

"Mostly because he has Noah," you told her, and then both of you were laughing.

After your nails were painted a vibrant purple, Natasha took you out for dinner and let you eat until you were full. You could tell your body and appetite were changing by the day, but you refused to feel self conscious about it in front of her. The two of you were sharing a slice of cake for dessert when you said, "He really did plan almost everything for the wedding. All I did was help him pick out matching suits for him and Noah to wear. And I picked out some flowers and my dress, but that's it."

Natasha hummed as she took another forkful of dessert. "I'm telling you, he'll always be good like that. He's a planner. Very responsible."

You felt silly telling her what was on your mind, but you said it anyway. "He pays my credit card bill. Not that I spend a lot! I try not to! I usually just buy groceries and things for Noah." She nodded like your words weren't as startling as you thought they were. "I kind of wanted to surprise him as a thank you, but if I buy something, he'll see it on the credit card statement."

Maybe you should have been wary of the smirk that found its way to her lips when Natasha said, "What if I rally the boys one night this week and take him out for a little bachelor party?"

"Oh," you said softly. "You'd do that? Just something lowkey?"

"Super lowkey," she agreed with a nod.

You could easily imagine them going to Top Golf or out for some drinks. "I think he might really like that."

"Or.... and just hear me out," she said, holding up her hands innocently after handing her credit card to the waiter. "Or, you let me absolutely roast him for the night."

You studied her face; how bad could it be? She was Bradley's best friend after all. Even if she was giving him a hard time, she'd probably make it fun. "What did you have in mind?" you asked as the two of you left the restaurant and headed for the pottery boutique down the block.

"A few things I'm going to need your approval for," she replied casually. And while you worked on making yourself a mug that said Noah's Mommy, you listened to Natasha's not-so-lowkey plans for Thursday night. By the time your mug actually looked like a mug, you gave her full approval.

"I almost feel bad about this," you told her with a laugh.

"I don't."

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

The following evening after Noah was in bed, Bradley set you up for a nice shower while he cleaned up the kitchen from the chicken enchiladas you made for dinner. When Nat called him, he held his phone to his shoulder with his cheek and kept working.

He answered the call and asked, "Hey, what's up?"

"Your bachelor party with me and the guys starts at six o'clock on Thursday evening."

He laughed in response. "It's funny that this is the first time I'm hearing about it."

Bradley could practically feel her rolling her eyes through the phone. "Just be ready to go."

"Ready for what?" he asked, knowing better than to just trust her with this. The dating app was one thing, and that had turned out great in the end, but he wasn't going to blindly go with her on this.

"Uhhh... just some stuff."

"Natasha."

"Bradley."

"What did you do?"

There was a brief pause before she said, "Just be ready for dinner, booze and some strippers."

With a deep sigh, Bradley closed his eyes and said, "I'm going to have to check with my wife-to-be about the strippers, Nat." You had to know by now that you had nothing to worry about, and he wasn't even all that keen on going to a strip club, but he didn't want you to be upset.

"She knows the plan."

He froze as he loaded the dishwasher. "She does?"

Natasha laughed, and Bradley swore he felt his skin crawl. "She does. Be ready for six o'clock on Thursday."

"We have work on Friday-"

She already ended the call. Bradley finished cleaning up when he heard you getting out of the shower. "God damn it, Nat," he muttered as he turned off the kitchen lights and made his way back to the bedroom where you were all wrapped up in a towel.

"Hi, Daddy."

He groaned at your words and your little smirk. "Hey, Baby. Can we talk for a minute?"

Your eyebrows shot up as you held your towel around you a little tighter. "What's wrong? Is it something about the wedding? Did the marriage license not go through? We only have six days."

"No, no," he promised, reaching for you. "It's not that. It's... I just got off the phone. With Nat."

You looked relieved as you leaned against him. "Good. I was worried for a second."

Bradley didn't quite know how to approach this topic now that he was here. Natasha would be as tenacious as a junkyard dog about her plans, so he had to say something. "You don't have anything to worry about."

You laughed softly. "That sounds nice."

He cleared his throat and said, "Nat called about my bachelor party night?"

It came out more like a question than a statement, but you just nodded and said, "Dinner and drinks and the strip club."

"Yeah," he rasped. "You approved this whole thing?"

"Mmhmm. To be fair, it was all her idea. I just told her it was okay."

Bradley tipped your chin so you were looking up at him, your face fresh and perfect after your shower. "If this plan is not okay with you, then I'm not going."

"It's okay with me," you replied easily. "I trust you."

He studied your face. "I feel like I'm going to end up babysitting everyone on a work night. Two days before the wedding."

You snorted in response. "You'll have fun. And so will everyone else. You should go."

"Yeah, I'm going," he groaned. "Nat will just have the guys drag me out if I don't go willingly. But I don't really care about looking at strippers. I got you and your perfect tits right here at home."

You didn't stop him when he slowly tugged your towel from your fingers and pulled it open. And yeah, your tits looked perfect, but so did the swell of your pregnant belly and your soft skin. He was hard as soon as the towel hit the floor.

"Daddy," you whined softly, shivering in his arms. It was December, and the nights were chilly in San Diego; you had taken to snuggling with him even more than usual in your sleep. "Now you need to warm me up."

"My pleasure," he replied, scooping you up and dropping you carefully onto the king sized bed that you picked out for the room. "Let me start right here," he whispered before he kissed you softly, covering your body gently with his. "Feeling warmer?"

You shifted beneath him, spreading your legs wider so he was nestled against your pussy, his cock straining against his jeans zipper. "A little bit," you whispered innocently.

Bradley smirked, and when he brought his hand up to stroke your breast, he said, "I told you, I got these perfect tits right here."

"Bradley," you giggled as his fingers skimmed along your skin, but when he stroked his thumb across your tightly furled nipple, you arched your back and made a raspy gasping sound. Your eyes went wide as you looked up at him. "Oh my god," you moaned.

"Are you okay?" he asked, pulling his hand away, but you were already nodding vigorously.

"It felt really good." The words rushed right from your lips as you rolled your hips up to meet his. "Different, I guess. I can't explain it."

When he rubbed your nipple between his thumb and index finger, he smirked. You were instantly squirming and moaning, reaching for his zipper with one hand and his hair with the other. Your eyes were wild even though he was being gentle, and he dipped his head down to whisper in your ear. "You're extra sensitive right now. It's the pregnancy hormones." He plucked and stroked as you started panting. "God damn, Princess. You like that?"

"Yes!" Your voice already sounded broken, and he'd barely touched you.

"Shh. Keep quiet like a good girl." But his words and hand seemed to have the opposite effect on you, because you just got louder. Bradley reached down to where you had his cock free from his zipper and pulled your hand up to his lips. He kissed your fingers before shoving them a little rough into your mouth. "You have to be quiet if you want me to play with you."

You moaned around your own fingers but nodded your head, and at least you were quieter now as Bradley kissed his way from your neck down to your tits. He didn't know how he was going to manage you when there were two kids in the house trying to sleep, but at the moment, he didn't really care. You were going to be his wife in a few short days. That thought alone had him bucking his cock against the bedding as he ran his mustache along your peaked nipple, inhaling your wildflower scent.

When he pulled your nipple into his mouth and sucked, he could tell your breasts were already a little bit bigger than before. Soon you'd be bigger everywhere. Getting even more sensitive by the day. He was painfully hard right now, listening to your muffled screams and tasting you. He licked and sucked until your tits were both damp from his mouth and overstimulated from his mustache.

When you started bucking up, Bradley eased his hand down to cup your pussy and found that you were soaked. He couldn't remember Meredith getting quite like this as he dipped his middle finger into your slick and easing it down to your hole.

"Daddy," you gasped as you pulled your fingers from your mouth. "I'm going to come."

You looked shocked by your statement as you sank down around his finger. He could already feel your tight pussy fluttering around him as he whispered, "You want me to make it so good?"

His only answer was a whimper as you bit your lip, and he knew he'd make sure you were always taken care of in every way. Carefully, he added a second finger and started to circle your clit with his thumb. You were shaking a bit, your pretty tits bouncing softly as he ran his nose down the valley between your breasts.

"Be a good girl. You know where to put those fingers, Princess," he coaxed, watching you slip them between your lips. Then he let you have his mouth on your tits again, while his hand worked at your pussy. He carefully drew a shaking orgasm out of you as you slobbered on your own fingers, not stopping until he was afraid you'd be too far gone soon.

"Daddy," you whined around your fingers as he ran his tongue flat across your nipple.

"Let me fuck you," he begged, realizing he was already close and needing to be inside you. "Please, Baby."

You reached for his cock and guided him home, and he fucked you with his jeans barely pulled down, coming inside you after just a few strokes. You were the picture of sated perfection with his cum oozing out of your pussy and your wet fingers skimming along your swollen belly and breasts. You were his young, pristine babysitter and his pregnant wife-to-be and everything in between. "I love you."

"Keep me warm all night, Daddy."

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

As you sent Bradley off with Natasha, you shared a conspiratorial look with her. You only felt slightly bad for keeping the bachelor party plans to yourself, and ultimately it made you feel good when Bradley went out for the night in an old pair of jeans and an uninspired shirt. He didn't look the part of a man who wanted to try to dazzle some strippers, and you loved him for it.

"Bye, Bub," he said, kneeling to kiss Noah where he stood at your side. "Be good for Mommy." Then he stood and kissed you deeply. "I won't be out late, okay?"

"Stay out as late as you want," you told him, running your fingers along his cheek as he pulled away from you. "Just don't have a hangover on Saturday."

He smiled and focused on your face even as Nat and the guys yelled at him from Javy's car in the driveway. "Our wedding day. It'll be perfect. Like you."

"Go," you told him with a laugh even as you had butterflies in your belly. "Have fun. We'll be here when you get home."

With one more kiss, he was off and jogging down the walkway. You watched him climb into the backseat, then they all waved at you as Javy backed out of the driveway with Natasha in the front seat. You were wondering how long it would be until Bradley called you to tell you he had in fact been taken to see a bunch of male strippers. The guys had apparently all been so excited when Natasha mentioned the strip club, she had a hard time holding in her laughter. The plan all along was that she'd take Bradley and the rest of them to dinner and then to The Tiger's Cage- San Diego's premier male review.

But you didn't hear from them at all while you and Noah ate macaroni and cheese together. You still didn't hear a word as the two of you took Skittles for a short walk to look at Christmas lights. You even let Noah dip his hands in green paint to make a Christmas tree art project to hang on the refrigerator, but nobody called or texted you.

"Mommy?" Noah asked as you got him changed into his dinosaur pajamas. "Are you going to adopt me?"

You smiled and kissed him on his chubby cheek. "I am," you promised. But when you looked at his face, his brow was pinched with worry.

"Is it going to hurt?"

"Oh, Noah," you said with a surprised laugh, pulling him into your arms and holding him against his growing younger sibling. "Not at all! It won't feel like anything."

"Then why are you going to do it?" he asked, face muffled by your shoulder.

You soothed his back with your hand, considering his question. For all intents and purposes, you really were his mom. Bradley added you to his will; if anything happened to him, Noah was solely yours. "I kind of want to have a little piece of paper with an official signature that says we get to be together forever. Does that sound okay?"

"That's adoption?" he asked.

"That's adoption."

"Yeah, okay," he agreed with a little shrug before climbing into bed. "Can I sleep with Skittles again?"

The pup appeared in the doorway, always excited to hear her name. "She can stay in here until Daddy gets home." You set the dog in bed with him and gave him a little kiss on his forehead as he yawned. "I love you."

"Love you, Mommy." He was half asleep as you turned on his night light and left the room. When you checked your phone, you smiled, having finally received the message you were waiting for.

Bradley Bradshaw: Nat brought us to The Tiger's Cage. My name is on the marquee. It says CONGRATULATIONS DADDY BRADSHAW

You were doubled over in laughter, holding your belly and trying not to wet yourself. Because he also sent a picture. All of the guys were lined up under the marquee sign, and you were pleased to see that they all looked like they were being good sports about the entire thing. Bradley was the only one who looked slightly mortified.

You texted back Go have fun, Daddy Bradshaw!

Natasha sent you some random photos as you got ready for bed. You were surprised Jake was there, given your history with him, but even he looked like he was having fun. You laughed at a picture of Bradley drinking something pink and blended, and then the photos stopped.

You wondered what was going on, but you kept yourself busy. Bradley told you not to clean up, promising to take care of everything tomorrow night before the wedding in the backyard on Saturday afternoon. Since you had the time and the privacy, you tried on your wedding dress one last time, sliding the fabric along your legs and zipping it up your side. You grabbed your purple paper crown, which was looking a lot worse for the wear now, and set it on your head.

When you looked in the mirror, you smiled. The dress fit like a dream and hugged your bump. The crown looked fun at the moment, but you wouldn't wear it on Saturday; you were pretty sure Bradley considered it a 'bedroom' item at this point anyway. Mostly, you looked happy. Like someone who was accepted in this perfect place. Like a woman who was needed here. And you needed the Bradshaw boys to be your family.

You wore the dress around for a few minutes before carefully unzipping it and getting ready for bed. It was late now, but you requested the day off tomorrow, and you wanted to see Bradley when he got home from his bachelor party. After you checked on Noah and Skittles, you curled up on the living room couch.

Every time you stopped to think about the wedding, you got a little anxious. When you asked Bradley what he had planned for dinner for the reception, he just told you he had everything under control. He said all you had to do was show up with some sort of wedding vows, but he didn't tell you anything that he had planned.

You dozed off on the couch, somehow still exhausted all the time, and you had no idea how late it was when you woke up to the sound of laughter and a key in the front door.

"You smell like Axe body spray. I can't believe someone is marrying you."

"Jesus fuck, Nat. I smell like Axe because you took me to see male strippers."

"Well, I know I had a great time tonight," Natasha cackled as she guided Bradley inside, and you stood up with your hand clasped over your mouth. He was a swaying mess, and he was holding a huge wad of cash and a bag from a convenience store.

"Princess," he crooned softly when he saw you, and your heart skipped a beat at the look in his eyes.

"Hi, Daddy."

And then he was on you, so gentle in his overindulgence, it was almost surprising. He was looking around like he wasn't sure what to do with everything he was holding, trying to touch your belly.

"I'll see you on Saturday," Natasha said with a smile as she closed the door behind her, and then you were alone with him.

"What's in the bag? Are why are you holding a roll of cash?" you asked as you guided him to the couch.

He sat down hard and handed everything to you as you stood between his splayed legs. "The strippers were dudes. I made Nat and Javy stop so I could get you some Skittles. I'm really drunk. Can we get married soon?"

When you looked in the bag you found six packs of your favorite candy. "Wow, you must be very intoxicated if you bought a pack of Sour Skittles too."

"Did I?" he asked before stretching out on the couch. "Shit. I'll eat them. Come here."

You sat on the floor next to him and handed him the bag of Sour Skittles as you counted the nearly seven hundred dollars you were holding. "Bradley, where did this come from?" you asked in alarm.

But he just crunched on some of the candy in response. "Oh, these are fucking nasty. Baby, can we please get married?" he rambled, dumping more Skittles into his mouth.

You pushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed him there. "Were getting married in like thirty-six hours. Now can you please tell me where you got this money from?"

"Huh?" he grunted like he'd never seen it before. "Oh. Oh, that." Then he casually dumped the rest of the Sour Skittles and chewed them up while you laughed and shook his arm.

"Bradley!"

He swallowed and dropped the wrapper on the floor before pulling you up onto the couch with him. "Jake got tips for stripping, and Nat made him give me the cash."

"I'm sorry, what?" you asked with in shock as you tried to settle into a comfortable position on him.

"They tried to get Daddy Bradshaw up on stage. I pointed to Jake and said it was him."

You couldn't stop laughing now. "But you got the cash?"

"Yeah," he said, eyes drifting closed as he propped his arm behind his head. "A wedding gift. For the honeymoon."

Just as you settled your head on his chest, you popped back up again. "Are we going on a honeymoon?" You started to feel a little apprehensive about going away for an extended trip without Noah while you were pregnant, but Bradley brought his big hand up to settle on your back as he snuggled in a little more.

"Next year. After the baby's born. Anywhere you want to go."

He really did kind of smell like Axe body spray, and he definitely needed to take a shower, but you let him hold you for a few minutes while he slept.

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

Part 61 will be their wedding! Thanks so much for reading and letting me share this family with you! We're almost to the finish line. Thanks @caitsymichelle13 for the request about the coloring book; stay tuned. And thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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4 | rome | around the world and back

(18+, minors dni)

series masterlist

summary: you and bradley are both spending the holidays alone

warnings: drinking (ik they drink in every chapter i'm sorry)

a/n: happy monday!!!!

“What’s he smiling about?” Luke questions, eyeing Bradley as he sits on the other side of their booth, staring at his phone and grinning like a lunatic. Nat rolls her eyes from beside him, letting herself relax into the crook of his arm. She looks up at Luke with a smirk.

“Probably texting his girlfriend.” At the use of a word that makes Bradley’s head spin, he looks up from the screen of his phone, mouth slightly agape and eyebrows furrowed.

“Not my girlfriend.” He corrects, looking back down at the selfie you just sent him. It’s pretty PG–just you smiling brightly up at the camera, all dolled up for something fun, he's assuming. In the message bubble underneath the photo, you've sent three martini glass emojis. That’s all the context he needs, really. For the past two months, the two of you have been exchanging text messages mostly of the flirty and naughty variety. There isn’t a ton of conversation. He’s always waking up to pictures of your perky tits or mirror selfies in whatever sexy outfit you had on the night before. He can’t say he’s disliking the situation you’re in right now, but he’s sort of upset he hasn’t been able to do anything about it since he was shipped off to Italy in early November.

A week after he left your apartment, he and Nat were called to the base in Sicily for eight weeks, meaning he’d be spending every major holiday overseas and alone. Nat would probably kill him for saying it like that, though. He’s glad he has her, but he wishes he could just be at home. He likes to visit his parents on holidays, even just to bring them flowers and tell them how life is going so far. It’s something he didn’t realize he’d miss doing until now.

“Bradshaw’s got a girl?” Luke answers with wide eyes, keeping his gaze on Bradley who is once again not paying any attention to them. He’s felt like a third wheel all night. Nat nods her head furiously, already feeling herself on her third glass of wine.

“A college girl.” She giggles, causing the vein in Bradley’s neck to stick out a little more than usual as he reaches across the table to slide her wine glass away from her–as if to say ‘no more for you’.

“Damn, Jake said you like em’ young, but I was thinking more like twenty-eight.” He lets out a laugh, casually bringing up the one person Bradley does not care to talk about right now. Jake Seresin is a fucking dick and he’s annoyed that even when he’s halfway around the world, the man still finds a way to get on his nerves.

“Jake doesn’t know shit, and she’s not in college.” He lies. Nat gives him a look. He’s the one who told her about the student ID and frat house vibe of her place back in LA. He's also mad at her for telling Jake that he hooked up with a possible college student just before the two of them left for Italy. He knows he'll never be able to live it down.

“What’s up with you and Jake anyway? I thought the flight school stuff blew over.” Bradley fiddles with his thumbs while he tries to figure out a way to say what he wants to say. Jake isn’t a bad guy–not really. He’s a prick who can’t commit, much like Bradley, but he can’t believe what he’s doing or was doing with Natalie. Just because Bradley doesn't want to date her, doesn't mean he's cool with someone he knows doing the same thing, especially if that someone is Hangman.

“I just have a bad taste in my mouth after finding out he hooked up with my ex-girlfriend.” Nat chokes on her wine when he says this–eyes wide and full of an emotion that Bradley can’t quite place.

“When did this happen?” She asks quickly. Bradley shrugs.

“While we were in LA, I’m guessing.” Nat thinks back to the end of October when all that happened. She hooked up with a college student, too, and Jake was suspicious of her when she got back–forcing her to tell him what happened. He was upset. Why was he so upset when he was out doing the exact same thing? That’s why they aren’t together right now. That’s why she begged Callie to take her spot on this trip. She downs the rest of her drink and Luke makes the executive decision to change the subject.

“What’s she look like?” Luke has a smug look on his face–so smug that Bradley would love to just pull out a picture of your boobs for the whole restaurant to see, but he’s more mature than that, so he pulls up the picture you sent fifteen minutes ago and slides it across the table to him. Him and Nat stare at the picture for a moment. Luke shakes his head.

“She’s…yeah. Good for you, Rooster.” He’s a bit stunned that you’re even his type. He’s only known Bradley for a little bit–they’ve flown together a few times in the past few years, but he’s always gone more for the innocent types. The kind of girls who don’t swear and wear floral prints year round and have their life just as together as he seems to, but you don't seem anything like that–no. You stick your tongue out and hold up a peace sign in nearly every photo you take–unironically–and the tattoos that are placed sporadically across your hands and arm aren’t necessarily meaningful. You don’t look like you’ve ever thought anything through in your entire life. He's certain that's why you're messing around with Rooster when you could have any guy who was at least born in the same decade as you.

“Wait.” Nat says suddenly, picking up his phone and touching the screen with her delicate fingers. Bradley wants to reach over and grab it from her, terrified she’ll swipe to some not-so-safe-for-work images, but then she turns the phone around to show him what she’s looking at. It’s the picture of you, zoomed into the background. There’s a bar. Bradley looks at her, confused.

“Look familiar?” She nods her head to the side, towards the bar of the restaurant they’re having drinks at. He turns and looks and sure enough–it’s almost identical. It has the same brass shelving and green tiles lining the walls. Double confused, he goes back to the messages with you. Three martini glasses. Without another glance at them, he gets up from his spot and heads towards the bar, walking around it as fast as he can, eyes darting around to each patron sitting down. He won’t believe it until he sees you, and he feels himself growing more and more anxious until he spots you, sipping on a martini with your legs crossed at the bar–alone.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” A familiar voice fills your ears just as you sit your empty glass down on the bar in front of you. You whip your head around, hair flying over your shoulder and you see him–plain as day, standing in front of you at a restaurant in Rome is Bradley. You’re a bit shocked at the sight in front of you, glancing down at your phone in your hands which is still opened up to your text thread. He didn’t even think about the time difference and how it’s only mid-day in California.

Tipsy off of two drinks and excited to see him, you jump off the stool and into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly, breathing in his familiar scent and letting your eyes flutter shut. For a moment, you think you might be dreaming. You’re in Italy for crying out loud. Running into him in LA was weird, sure, but he only lives a couple hours away. How is it, that in a whole different country, the two of you just so happen to be at the same restaurant at the same moment in time?

You pull away from him, but keep your hands on his shoulders as you look up into his dark brown eyes.

“Are you stalking me, Bradley?” You cock your head to the side and give him a smirk, taking in his appearance. He looks good–maybe a little tired, but still good. He looks a lot like he did the night you ran into him in San Diego after a horrible date. Sharply dressed and neatly groomed.

“Me? I think you're the one stalking me.” He grins, sliding his hand down your arm and grabbing your hand, lifting it up and spinning you around to see your outfit. Your short dress floats around you as you spin, giggling drunkenly at the action. “You look beautiful, as always.” He adds, leaning in closer to your ear now. You feel yourself blush as you pull away, keeping your hand locked in his. It’s a little bit romantic. You’re swooning.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” He inquires, taking a seat at the bar next to you before motioning for the bartender to bring two more. You shrug, leaning your head against your hand that’s propped up by your elbow on the marble countertop.

“I just hopped on a plane last week, and here I am.” You make it sound so easy–so simple–as if it’s normal to just drop everything and take a trip for no reason. “What’s your excuse?” You raise your eyebrow at him, hoping to find out what he’s doing in such a magical place during the time of the year when most people are home with their families. Maybe he’s wondering the same about you.

“Work.” He states simply, not wanting to bore you with the details. “Just finishing up, actually. Heading back to San Diego on the thirtieth.” As he speaks, he remembers what time of year it is. Christmas is in two days. He’s just been planning to stock up on wine and pasta and gorge himself until the week is over and he can hop on a plane back to his own house. What about you, though? What’s your plan? He’s sure you don’t have one–you’re not the kind of woman to put a lot of thought into anything. He likes that about you, despite it totally freaking him out. He knows you’re a big girl, but the world is scary and people are scary and he doesn’t trust others who might take advantage of someone as free and open as you are. Maybe he's been taking advantage of you in that way. “Are you spending the holiday alone?” He questions, already knowing the answer.

“Not anymore.” You look up at him with a mischievous grin that he can’t help but return.

“I got you something.” Bradley says as soon as he enters your hotel room on the morning of December 25th, holding his hands behind his back suspiciously. He knows it might sound a little crazy. He wasn’t looking to get you something, it just sort of came to him. He was on his way back to his hotel last night when something caught his eye in the window of a shop. A necklace.

You grin, standing in front of him with your hands behind your own back, holding a small present of your own, wearing the most ridiculous set of pajamas he’s ever seen. There are tiny, little reindeer covering every bit of fabric, but that’s the kicker–there’s not really a lot of fabric anywhere. The shorts aren’t covering much and the cropped tank top does very little to hold in your boobs. He’d be perfectly content if the sexy Christmas pajamas were his present.

You sit on the bed facing each other, one glass of wine in, holding your presents out in front of you.

“You first.” He nods his head towards the small box, but you shake your head.

“Let’s do it together.” Bradley agrees, carefully tearing open the wrapping paper while watching you undo yours.

He opens the brown box and pulls out the colorful mug with all of the famous sights of Rome, which is written at the top in a scribbled handwritten script. He looks up with a smile–he loves having his morning coffee in the silence of his own home rather than at a busy coffee shop on base, and now, he’ll think of you every time he pulls it out of the cupboard.

“So, you travel a lot…” You trail off, beginning to explain the gift in detail before he thanks you. “And I think you should start collecting little souvenirs like this.”

“You don’t think I have souvenirs?” He laughs, leaning forward to give you a quick kiss on the lips.

“I think you’re forgetting that I’ve been to your house, Bradley…” You trail off. “Twice.” You hold two fingers up with a giggle. “There’s not a knick knack in sight.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll start taking life a little less seriously and buy more junk to fill my shelves." He teases. "Now open yours.” He urges you forward, putting the box back into your hands for you to open. You do as you’re told, opening the skinny box to reveal a necklace. Not just any necklace–no. There’s a tiny, golden sun charm that hangs from the thin, gold chain. You look up at Bradley, eyes wide and mouth open. It’s the prettiest necklace you’ve ever seen.

“Bradley, I–” You begin, but he cuts you off, telling you to turn around so that he can put it on you. He anxiously grabs the necklace as you pull your hair to the side, putting it over your head and gingerly clasping it together. His knuckles brush against your skin lightly as he does it, causing the hair on your arms to stand. When you turn around, you hold the charm between your fingers, smiling over at him. You hope you don’t forget to add ‘thoughtful’ to the long list of things you love about Bradley–a list that grows each time you see him.

Bradley is just as in awe of who he is when he’s with you. He thought, at the very best, the two of you would hook up as much as humanly possible before you leave for LA, but you’ve given him so much more than sexual pleasure during your time together. You made him excited for Christmas morning for the first time in a long time–excited to see someone else and give them a present and kiss them and hold them and just be with them all day.

Bradley realizes as the day comes to a close that you’ve changed his outlook on life for the better. Going into this holiday, he was so down about being away from his parents and having to navigate being around happy couples in the city, but then you showed up–like you always seem to do–just as he’s feeling most down about himself and you completely lifted his spirits. He’s lucky to have you in whatever fucked up capacity this is.

High on the feeling, he can't help but say something.

“I lied.” He blurts out, squeezing his eyes shut at the way the words come spilling out of his mouth as if he has no control over it. You sit back on your feet, fingers still grasping the charm as you tilt your head to the side ever so slightly, lips parted.

“About?” You ask, heart racing at the idea that he could've lied about a multitude of things. Your mind is going to some dark and scary places as you wait for him to respond.

“I mean, I kinda, sorta, maybe lied. I don't know.” He drops his head into his hand, rubbing his right eye with his palm before looking up at you with his left eye squinted. He looks more embarrassed than crazy, which eases your mind, but only slightly.

“I think that I was possibly in a long term relationship before we met. Right before we met.” Like a bandaid, he rips it off.

“You think?” You chuckle, trying not to overreact before hearing what else he has to say. You’re not sure you even have room to overreact. It’s not like the two of you are dating. It only feels that way right now because you’re alone in a foreign country together on Christmas. It’s hardly real life. You're both living in some sort of fantasy here that will end the second you board the plane back to California.

“Yeah, I mean…she was living with me, but–” He stops. He can't finish his sentence, not when you're looking at him like that.

“That sounds serious.”

“But it really wasn't” He’s being honest. It wasn’t that serious to him.

“I bet she thought it was.”

“She did.” He admits. “That's why we broke up.”

“And this was right before me? Before what, exactly?” Your mind is racing. Before the day you ran into each other in San Diego–the bad date? Did he sleep with you before they officially broke up? Or, did he break up with her over dinner and then sleep with you right after? You don't like either scenario.

“Before the beach.” He clarifies. “She, uh, she stopped by the next day to pick up the rest of her things.” You nod, understanding. On your way out that morning, you did notice a few things that felt strange for a man like Bradley to own, but you didn’t think much of it. The absence of those things when you went back to his place later that summer didn’t raise any red flags, either.

“So, you were with her for that long, living together, and didn’t think it was serious?” You’re not trying to interrogate him. You just want to understand where he’s coming from. It’s not like you have a lot of experience in that department, either. You’re a twenty-two year old who hasn’t been in anything other than situationships lasting much longer than they should.

“Relationships aren’t my thing. My parents died when I was younger, and it’s been just me for so long that I don’t like the thought of relying on someone else like that. I never really let her in, either, and I know it's my fault, but I don't think she actually knew anything about me.” It’s hard for him to look at you when he says this. Somehow, you cracked his hard surface without much force. It's definitely more than Natalie ever got.

“That’s okay, you know.” You reach across the bed and rest your hand on his forearm. It doesn't sound like any of it was easy for him. “It won’t feel like that with the right person. It’s not your fault that it wasn’t her.” He smiles softly, staring down at your hand.

“You’re so wise for your age, you know that?” He says in a teasing tone, though there is some truth in there, looking back up at you with glossy eyes. He can’t believe he told you about his parents. He’s not sure how his dad would feel about you, but he thinks his mom would’ve loved you and your free spirit. You’re a lot like her in that way. She didn't rub off on Bradley nearly as much as she had hoped. One of the last things she told him was to do whatever it takes to be happy. Even if it's scary or crazy. He'd definitely file the seven months of knowing you in the 'crazy' category.

“Wrong.” You roll your eyes playfully. “I’m a hopeless romantic waiting for a love like my parents and my sisters and their husbands. I’m surrounded by it, and it’s fucking torture.” You let out a chuckle and Bradley smiles softly.

“I don’t know much, but I know you’ll find it.” He means it, too. You’re so much more than the girl he first met at the beach. There’s more to you than a pretty face and a short skirt and bad drinking habits. If you’re half as great to someone else as you've been to him, he knows you’ll make them the happiest person on Earth.

Sitting on a hotel bed in Rome with Bradley, staring into each other’s eyes, you’re pretty sure you have found it, but you’re not naive enough to think your feelings are reciprocated, especially after his confession. Right now, you just want to be with him in whatever capacity he’ll let you, so you lean in and press your lips to his, effectively ending the conversation.

taglist: @eloquentdreamer @italk2god @urmagic8girl @huang-the-geek @gardenavenue @boiolay @djs8891 @bellaireland1981

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bellaireland1981 · 1 day

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I hear the storm is coming... [x]

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bellaireland1981 · 2 days

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baby, i'm high octane (vii)

synopsis: over the course of the last month of the documentary, nora makes some decisions.

pairings: jake seresin x nora rogers (oc)

warnings: 18+, minors and ageless blogs dni, all of the usual warnings, swearing, existential dread, spoilers for ocean's eleven lol, smut (like a little bit, oral sex, allusions to sex) (wc: 12.7K)

note: y'all, it's been so long, i'm so sorry 😭 but i hope the ridiculously long chapter makes up for the wait. last chapter before the epilogue woo!

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TAGS: @theharddeck @mamachasesmayhem @bradshawsbitch @hangmanbrainrot @startrekfangirl2233 @kandierteveilchen @lostinwonderland314 @hangmanscoming @t-nd-rfoot @sometimesanalice @dempy @mlibbydp @djs8891 @bellaireland1981 @clancycucumber230 @kmc1989 @averagereader35 @eli2447 @filmflux @bethbunnyy @roosterbruiser @callsignspark @kajjaka

Nora spends the whole weekend with Jake.

She doesn’t plan to spend the whole weekend with him. It’s one of those things that just kind of happens, like getting caught up in a good book and realizing it’s been hours and you haven’t moved an inch.

It’s not something she does. It’s more what she doesn’t do.

She doesn’t kick him out on Thursday night as soon as Jake has his pants on, doesn’t push him barefoot in the direction of the door with a Thanks for the sex, come back anytime.

She doesn’t make up a half-hearted excuse, some reason that she needs to be up early in the morning to keep him from sleeping over.

It’s so simple, really.

She never asks him to leave, and so, Jake stays.

On Friday morning, Jake brings her coffee in bed.

She is still half-asleep, sheets all bunched up under her chin, hair fanned messily across the sun-warmed pillows, cheeks flushed. A wide cat-like yawn escapes her as Nora stretches her arms above her head and reaches for the coffee with a slightly hoarse thank you.

Holding the mug in one hand, she rubs the harsh sting of sunshine from her eyes, knuckles creating starbursts on her eyelids, while Jake sprawls across the bed.

He is shirtless, a gold shimmer of chest hair running down his abdomen and disappearing under the black waistband of his boxer shorts. A ripple passes over his ab muscles as Jake stretches out and gets comfortable, searching for her leg through the crumpled pile of sheets.

He strokes a comforting pattern across her calf, across the curve of her knee, and back down again, propped on his elbow to watch her face.

“How’d I do?” Jake asks, nodding to the coffee. His voice is a low murmur, soft as the blueish morning light that filters in between the sheer curtains.

Holding his gaze, Nora raises the mug to her lips and takes a long, luxurious sip.

She almost sighs out loud. It’s perfect.

A half-faded conversation from last night pulls at the edge of her mind, muddled by drowsiness and sleep, like a dream.

She was half-awake, already caught in the deep tide of sleep, almost pulled under from the head rush that washed over her in the late hours of the night after Jake kissed damn near every inch of her and got back in line for seconds. A fuzziness in her fingertips, like Nora was taking her first dizzied steps off of the Tilt-A-Whirl at Pacific Park on the Santa Monica Pier, finding her sea legs in the closeness of him; a kind of gravity in the warmth of his chest, pressed against her bare back.

He wrung another orgasm from her minutes before, and in the afterglow, Nora melted into him like warmed butter, letting out a satisfied hum in the darkness.

Lips warm on her shoulder, Jake asked, “How d’you like your coffee?”

Her lids were so heavy, and Nora let her eyes close.

“Hm,” Nora hummed. “Guess.”

He chuckled, and Nora’s lips curved at the sound, at the warm puff of breath on her nape.

“Can’t ever make it easy on me, can you, Hollywood?”

“Oh,” Nora yawned out. “Not a chance.”

Jake shifted behind her, closer, and Nora sank further into the warm embrace of his muscular arms around her, so secure and solid. Comforting. Her own personal space heater in the form of a hot Naval aviator.

Who would’ve thought a man called Hangman would be such a cuddle?

And more, who would’ve thought she’d like it so much?

His fingers tangled with hers as Jake seemed to consider his next words, his guess.

“‘Course not. Let’s see. It’s….” Jake’s lips found the hollow beneath her ear, and Nora breathed a shallow gasp. “What? Oat milk and vanilla?”

All of the sudden, Nora felt very awake.

Her eyes flew open, and Nora startled, but Jake was too octopus-like around her for her to crane her neck around and look at him.

“Wow,” Nora said, her raised brows audible in her voice. “Tracking me, Lieutenant?”

“I’m observant.” Jake shifted again. “It’s part of what makes me a great pilot, sweetheart.”

And was that a hint of self-consciousness in his sleep-slurred voice? Underneath all of that self-assured confidence and bottomless bravado?

She kind of wanted to see if Jake was blushing.

His fingers flexed around hers, and Nora lightly squeezed his hand.

He squeezed back. Kissed the now-familiar curve of her shoulder and said, “Also, you drink the same thing every day. I’d have a hard time not noticing.”

“Yeah?” Nora smiled. “You must spend a lot of time looking at me.”

“Ever since I saw you, I haven’t wanted to look away.”

There in the dark, Jake’s words sounded like a confession, so open, so sincere.

She drifted off to sleep in his arms, a smile on her face, a pleasant and gnawing ache in her chest.

Now, vanilla and sugar on her tongue, Nora says, “Not bad, Lieutenant.”

Another sip. Another blissful half-sigh.

“It’s actually so good,” Nora concedes. “It’s perfect.”

A smile pulls at the edge of his mouth, and Jake replies, softly, “Good.”

A quick kiss glances against the side of her knee, and Jake sits up and brushes her hair from her pink cheeks.

She is flushed from sleep; warm from the sun and him.

He’s sitting so close; looking at her with such open adoration that she feels like she’s burning.

“You’re staring,” Jake drawls with a slow smirk. You have a staring problem. His voice is like the low rumble of a distant summer storm and slightly hoarse, and Nora wants to wrap herself in it like a blanket and sleep the rest of the day away.

Instead, Nora carefully sets the coffee on the nightstand and cupping his face between her hands, kisses him.

For once, she catches him off guard.

A deep, surprised sound punches out of him – half exhale, half groan.

She loops her arms around his strong neck, pulling him in, needing to be closer to him. Her fingers brush over the shorter hairs at his nape, curl in the longer strands, damp from where Jake must’ve showered before Nora woke. Dark gold, like a bottle of maple syrup in the sunlight.

Catching on, Jake bends a hand around the back of her neck and rolls her underneath him on the mattress, following her down, his mouth on hers the whole way down. He swipes his tongue across her bottom lip and into her mouth, and Nora opens for him with a sigh.

It’s slow and natural.

Would it always be like this? So easy? she wonders as Jake slides his hand up her side, fingers fanning across her ribcage and higher. Would it be as easy as falling asleep in his arms and waking up to the rich smell of coffee in the morning and kissing slowly like both of them know there will be other kisses, other mornings?

His hand cuts across her abdomen, and Jake covers her breast with his palm, and Nora lets the thought go, like the end of a balloon string, and arches into him.

There are suddenly too many layers between them.

And impatient, Nora kicks the sheets away and, hooking her leg around his hip, pushes his boxers down and frees his cock. He groans against her mouth, a sweet and rough sound, a reverent sound.

One hand comes down to hold her against him, rough palm sliding across the back of her thigh and up and up, and Nora shudders against him as Jake runs his fingers through the wetness that’s building between her legs.

He still has his other hand on the back of her neck, pad of his thumb swiping across her thrumming pulse, and hell, Nora almost wants to reach up and pull his hand around, urge him to spread those broad fingers across her collarbone, across her throat and –

Another time.

She breaks the kiss and breathes, “Turn over,” against his mouth.

And Jake – damn him – does this thing with his fingers that makes her brain go blank for a solid five seconds. Like Nora’s been put on airplane mode.

A grin dimples his cheeks as Jake looks down at her, lids low, lips parted just enough to show his teeth. “Now, isn’t that my line, sweetheart?”

She bites down on her bottom lip, holding back something halfway between a laugh and a moan. “Just… get on your back.”

It’s actually obscene how effortlessly Jake flips them.

He reaches for her again, moving to pull her forward and settle between her open legs, hand around his hard cock, but Nora plants her hands on his stupidly broad shoulders and pushes him back down.

He could so easily resist her, but Jake lets her lead.

He looks up at her from the pillows with a familiar gleam in his eyes. “What’re you up to, sweetheart?”

“You know…” Nora murmurs against his neck. “I had something I wanted to do last night.”

She kisses down his neck, across his shoulders – his beautiful shoulders – and down the center of his chest, memorizing the golden skin and hard muscle in the blue morning. He really is so goddamn handsome.

His gaze is molten, melted gemstones. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She moves down his abdomen, admiring the way Jake’s muscles shudder under the soft press of her lips. She notices Jake is holding his breath, and Nora smirks. Good. She wants him a little uneven.

She looks up at him from under her lashes. “You wouldn’t let me suck your cock.”

“I was being a gentleman,” Jake argues.

“Well, in that case, allow me to thank you.”

Nora runs her hand over his cock, stroking him once, twice, and puts her mouth around him, and Jake makes a choked sound, breathing in sudden and sharp, a fragile sound that quickly fades into a broken groan.

“Christ, Nora…” Jake groans, reaching down, his large hand settling on the back of her head, like Jake needs something to ground himself, fingers threading through her hair.

She hums around him in response, and Jake lets out a breathless, “Fuck,” that’s as flattering as a compliment.

It’s all moans and groans and soft breaths and Nora sweetheart Nora Jesus Christ until Nora looks up at him and murmurs coyly, “Come for me, cowboy,” and half a breath later, Jake finishes in her mouth.

She swallows with a smug grin, and Jake swears again, his cheeks darkening.

He drapes an arm over his face and lets out a string of breathless swears that make Nora laugh.

“Are you okay?” Nora asks, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She stretches out next to him as Jake catches his breath.

“I think I might be dead,” Jake mumbles from under his arm, voice muffled, “but good news, I’m definitely in heaven.” He lifts his arm slightly and looks at her sidelong, slanted green eyes full of suggestion. “You wanna be my plus one?”

Her laugh splits into a gasp as Jake slips a hand between her legs.

The coffee is cold when Nora reaches for it again, finding her breath between sips, resting her head on his flushed, sweat-misted chest, but she can’t bring herself to care. She drinks every single drop.

Saturday comes in a blink, and Nora drags Jake to the farmers market in Little Italy.

Or rather, Nora gets dressed in the morning, trading his oversized button-down for a white shirt and a pair of overall shorts, and starts saying, “So I’m thinking about going to the farmers market if you want…” and Jake immediately grabs his keys, a horseshoe shaped bottle opener dangling from the keychain.

She loves to visit the local markets of new cities as a way to get to know them.

In San Diego, Nora has made a habit of going to the Little Italy Mercato every other weekend to stock up on fresh produce and browse the local art that’s for sale, a whole spread of gorgeous art prints, ceramics, and glassware.

A few weeks back, Nora found a handmade pitcher the color of blue bottle-glass and started filling it with fresh farm-grown flowers ever since. A bright spot of color on her bedroom sill.

It should feel weird that Jake’s there – stepping into this Saturday morning ritual that’s only ever been hers – but it’s actually nice, really nice.

He holds her hand as Nora walks around the street, wandering an aimless zig-zag between the stands, doubling back for the ones that catch her eye.

Her reusable bag grows heavier on her shoulder, slowly filling with fresh fruits and vegetables and even, a heart-shaped bottle of raspberry wine from a Temecula winery, and Nora’s shoulder begins to ache. She moves the bag to her hand and rolls out the minor discomfort in the muscle.

While Nora is distracted at the flower stand, Jake pulls the bag from her loose fingers and swings it over his opposite shoulder and links their hands again.

At first, Nora doesn’t even notice. She is busy sliding her credit card back into her wallet and clicking the no-receipt button on the iPad screen, but the older woman who is wrapping the flowers for her doesn’t miss a thing. She makes enough fuss for the both of them.

“What a nice young man.”

Nora almost snorts. She really wants to laugh, but doesn’t want to accidentally offend the nice woman who has no idea of the effect those words will have on the man behind her. Jake nudges Nora’s hip, biting back a grin, and collects the expertly-wrapped bouquet from the vendor.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Jake drawls with a dimpled smile so sugar-sweet that Nora could spoon it into a bottle and use it to sweeten her coffee in the morning. Asshole.

She looks at him sideways, and Jake is already looking at her, a victorious lift to his mouth, like You see? See the sweet old lady who thinks I’m nice?

As Nora wades back into the crowd, a little flushed, Jake leans down and says, “Hear that? I’m a nice young man,” right against her ear.

Now, Nora does laugh.

“Debatable,” she says.

He laughs. His breath is warm on the side of her neck, and Nora feels his lips brush against her skin, against her hair, for the briefest moment. Shorter even, barely even a blink.

It’s a cloudless morning, but Nora holds back a shiver.

I could kiss him, she absently realizes. She wouldn’t have to do anything more than turn her head, maybe raise her chin, and she would be kissing him. She can just do that now.

She slows at the realization, but Jake is smiling, sun-bright, and asks, “You hungry?”

She feels warm in a way that has nothing to do with the summer breeze, the late morning sun on her freckling shoulders and cheeks. She basks in the feeling, in the buzz of a beautiful Saturday morning that’s brought half of San Diego out into the sunshine.

Her stomach grumbles, and Nora nods.

“Come on, I know just the place,” Jake says.

His hand slips out of hers to find the small of her back as Jake leads her out of the crowd.

Back on Coronado Island, Jake drives along Orange Ave for a while before pulling into the parking lot of a cute diner called Starboard Side.

This must be the place Jake mentioned on the Fourth, Nora realizes, where he wanted to take her on a date.

She is smiling to herself when Jake opens the blue door for her.

It’s the very definition of charming. Sun-soaked and eclectic with deep blue wallpaper on one end of the diner – covered in a nautical pattern of anchors, ships, and ocean waves – and wood paneling on the other, painted a bright sunflower yellow.

She steps around a cluster of people who are waiting around the made-to-order coffee counter, either waiting for their order or waiting for one of the blue stools along the counter to be available, and Jake leads her to a booth in the corner.

“This is the best booth in here. It’s got the best window,” Jake says firmly and also in a way that makes her feel like he is waiting for her to agree with him, like a puppy waiting to be patted on the head. Like Jake picked out the best booth in the diner to impress her.

It’s equal parts endearing and ridiculous, which somehow makes it all the more endearing.

Smiling, Nora slides in across from him, the sun-bleached vinyl under her legs warm against her bare skin. “It’s beautiful. Do you come here a lot?”

“I’ve been coming here for years,” Jake answers, “since I was first at Top Gun. It’s the perfect amount of miles from the base for a morning run so I’d run here and back and carb load in between. Do you like pancakes or waffles?”

“Who do you think I am? Pancakes, of course,” Nora says, and Jake’s smile crinkles the corners of his eyes.

“They’ve got really good pancakes.”

He slides a laminated menu across the checkered table and points to one of the dishes in the Starboard Combos section, and as Nora follows along with his recommendation, walking her through his go-to orders, her hair slips into her face.

It’s been everywhere all morning, a little wild from the warmth of the day, a little windswept from the sea salt breeze coming off the ocean, frizzing and curling around her shoulders. She almost got fed up and braided it on the drive here, but all morning, Jake has been playing with the loose strands of blonde hair, absentmindedly reaching over and running it between his fingers on the Coronado Bridge, brushing it back from her face in the market check-out line when Nora’s hands were too full to do it herself.

He’d been doing it in bed too, curling a strand around his finger and complimenting the smell of her shampoo.

Every easy and casual touch sends a little thrill dancing through her stomach so Nora left it down.

She sweeps it over her shoulder and studies the menu.

A smiling waitress comes by to grab their orders and flits over to collect a stack of dirty dishes from the next table over, a spiral notepad tucked into the band of her brightly colored apron. She returns a few minutes later to set down their coffees and is gone again.

It’s just them now. Just them again.

She stirs the coffee with a metal spoon, oversized ice cubes clinking gently against the sides of the wide-mouth jar. She licks the sugar from the spoon and sets it back down on a paper napkin and watches him.

He rests his cheek on his open palm, curving his other hand around the chipped handle of the baby blue diner mug and watches her back.

He ordered his coffee with cream and sugar and his eggs sunny side up, and Nora snatches up those little shining details like a magpie. She adds them to the picture of him in her mind.

He likes his coffee a little sweet. He likes pancakes. He likes her.

A golden beam of sunlight slants through the large window at their side, the best window in the whole diner. It’s almost noon, and in the afternoon light, Jake looks relaxed and thoughtful, edges softened, all dimples and laugh lines.

She notices a small hole in the collar of his shirt – barely even noticeable – and Nora latches onto that small imperfection like a lifeline, proof that Jake isn’t something Nora dreamed up. He’s real, heart-achingly so.

“So…” Nora says.

“So…” Jake echoes.

So…

So, what does this mean?

So, what do people talk about on first dates that feel like fifth, sixth, seventh dates?

So so so.

“So,” Nora says again. A complete sentence. She rests her chin on her interlaced fingers, mimicking his posture, half leaned forward, shoulders relaxed. “I have a question for you, Texas.”

His lips quirk. “Yeah? What kind of question?”

She dips her chin, lips pursed against a smile. “A very important one.”

A dimple springs up in his cheek as Jake drawls, “Hit me, Hollywood,” in a voice full of Texas.

“What is…” Nora reaches for her coffee. Draws out the suspense. “…your favorite movie?”

The corner of his mouth kicks up, and Nora narrows her eyes.

“Careful now. There are wrong answers here.”

“I’m not worried, sweetheart,” Jake replies with a casual sip of coffee, sprawling posture matching his words. “That’s an easy one. It’s Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Robert Redford and Paul Newman. Got anything harder for me?”

Asshole, Nora thinks with affection.

A cowboy movie for a cowboy. Of course.

And Nora lets out an approving, “Good movie,” instead of damn.

Because maybe, just maybe if Jake had god awful taste in movies – like, I respect you less as a person now bad – Nora could pour sand over the sparks that kick to life in her chest whenever Jake’s arm so much as brushes against hers. Damn damn damn.

And Jake’s smile is a little smug, a little knowing. “You like that I like good movies, don’t you? It kinda turns you on.”

“I’m not answering that,” Nora says, which might as well be an answer, and Jake’s grin sharpens.

She pointedly ignores him, cheeks warm, and sips her coffee. “Is there a story there? Or are you really that much of a cowboy?”

He makes a noncommittal sound, not ignoring the question, not answering either.

This is a date, not an interview, Nora reminds herself. She doesn’t push.

He brings the mug to his lips and asks, “What about you? What’s yours?”

“Oh, I – ” Nora makes a face. “I don’t know if I have one.”

Shaking his head, Jake shoots her a disbelieving look. “You’re not getting out of this one, Hollywood, not a chance. You have to have one.”

Nora laughs. “I don’t know. It’s all just so subjective. I like a lot of movies for a lot of different reasons.” She gestures to him. “I mean, don’t you? Doesn’t everyone?”

“Sure,” Jake says slowly, “but you must have a favorite.”

“That’s what I’m saying. A movie can be a favorite for any number of reasons, like, if you see a movie at the exact right time or maybe, with the exact right person or both, and it’s almost like the movie found you and not the other way around.”

A half-smile forms on his face as Jake listens to her.

“It’s hard to pick one favorite. How do you compare that – that raw emotional experience – with a movie that’s objectively very good from a craft perspective?”

“You tell me, sweetheart,” and Jake chuckles when Nora gives him a look. “Alright, what about two movies?”

“Two?”

“Yeah.” He holds up two fingers. “Pick two favorites.”

Two favorites. She can probably do two.

Thinking for a moment, Nora says, “When Harry Met Sally. One, because it’s amazing movie and the best rom-com of our time, obviously.”

She waits expectantly until Jake echoes, obviously, with a smile.

“Two, because I watched it in high school with my mom. I was supposed to go to this pool party that a girl in my grade was throwing for her birthday, but I got super sick, and I was so upset. It was like, all I’d been looking forward to that week. My mom canceled her plans and stayed in with me.” She smiles at the memory. “We spent the whole night on the couch, eating pizza and watching a Meg Ryan marathon on cable. It’s been a favorite of mine ever since.”

Gaze warm, Jake absorbs this with a nod. “What’s your second favorite?”

“Ocean’s Eleven,” Nora answers without hesitation. “I was obsessed with George Clooney when I was a kid. I once wrote him a letter and asked him to be my step-dad. He never got back to me, unfortunately.”

His laugh lights up his whole face. “God, of course you did. How’d your mom feel about that?”

“She would’ve gotten on board. It’s George Clooney,” Nora says simply, like it’s obvious.

His foot brushes against hers underneath the table, his ankle slotting into the space between hers, and something about it feels so intimate that Nora almost shivers.

After a moment, Jake offers, “I saw Butch and Sundance with my dad.”

An answer to a question Nora didn’t ask out loud.

Surprised, Nora pauses. “Your dad?”

A nod as Jake runs his hand over his nape. “Austin had this retro movie theater that used to play old movies on Saturday and Sunday mornings for real cheap, like five bucks, maybe even less back then. My football practice got rained out one weekend, and for once, my dad wasn’t working so we went to see Butch and Sundance. It’s probably the best afternoon I ever had with him.” A fraction of the seriousness washes from his face as Jake winks and adds, “And I’m that much of a cowboy, sweetheart. You should see my Stetson collection back home.”

A charmed smile pulls at her mouth, and Nora chooses her words carefully. “You’ve never mentioned your dad before.”

One of his shoulders rises and falls. “We’re not close. He was kind of an asshole even then, always on me about every little mistake I’d make during games, every A-minus that should’ve been an A. He only got meaner as I got older.” He sighs and rubs his hand over his face. “My parents split up when I was in high school. He was a real dick to my mom during the divorce, so I don’t see him unless I have to now.”

“My dad’s an asshole too,” Nora says. “George Clooney would’ve been much better.”

Jake laughs, and Nora smiles, kind of proud of herself.

The waitress comes back with their food, and Nora slides the plate of blueberry pancakes and scrambled eggs in front of her. She carefully unrolls her knife and fork and sets the napkin across her lap. She doesn’t want any crushed blueberry stains on these overalls.

An unladylike sound almost escapes her mouth at her first bite, and Nora closes her mouth around the sound.

“You were right about the pancakes.”

“Of course I was.”

Nora rolls her eyes, and Jake chuckles.

Washing it down with a sip of coffee, Nora says, “You never told me your second favorite movie.”

Jake breaks off a piece of whole-wheat toast and dips it in yellow egg yolk. He pops it in his mouth and grinning around the bite, replies, “You already know my second favorite.”

“I do?” She sets her fork down, already sticky with maple syrup.

He nods, not giving her any hints, waiting for her to catch up with him, to keep up.

She wracks her brain for any movie Nora had ever heard Jake mention. She can’t think of a single one. She's about to fold her cards and ask him to tell her until –

“Oh my god. You’re full of shit.”

“I’m not,” Jake says, amused.

She stares at him, mouth open slightly. “You can’t be serious. Your favorite movies are Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, one of the best Westerns of all time, which has been preserved by the Library of Congress for being culturally significant, and – ”

“How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days,” Jake finishes with a grin. He cocks his head. “What can I say? I love McConaughey.”

His smile splits wide open when Nora bursts out laughing.

After, when Nora is leaving the diner, full of good food, Jake walks ahead of her to check the parking meter, and watching him, Nora has the most disorienting urge to walk over and wrap her arms around him. Press her cheek into the wrinkle of soft heather gray fabric between his shoulder blades. Inhale the smell of his cologne like Nora’s done it a million times before.

This is new, Nora reminds herself. It’s so new.

Except when Jake glances over his shoulder and looks for her, green eyes darting down to run over her bare legs, and smiles, wide and affectionate like he didn’t just spend almost two hours across from her, like he could spend all day looking at her and never get sick of it; nothing about it feels new.

It feels like Nora’s already waist deep, right in the middle of something vast and all-consuming, something bottomless.

And when Jake extends a hand behind him, reaching for her, eyes as green as dew-covered grass, Nora steps into the daylight and links her fingers with his, filling in the gaps, somehow it’s the most natural thing in the whole world.

Two more weeks pass, and Nora’s with Jake more than she’s not.

He sleeps over so often that Nora clears a spot on the bathroom counter for him to leave a spare toothbrush, and likewise, Jake starts to keep her favorite brands of cold brew and creamer in his fridge.

Coffee in bed becomes something of a weekend routine.

Once, in his apartment, Jake brings her coffee in a Lone Star State mug, which looks like one of those souvenir mugs you might find in an airport. It’s covered in a patchwork of orange and light blue doodles: a cowboy hat, a horse, a Sheriff’s star.

“Beth bought it for me when I left for my first deployment,” Jake explains when Nora asks him about the mug, running her fingers over the delicate outlines. “So I’d have something to remind me of home.”

They go on a second date. A third. A fourth.

He finds a dine-in movie theater in La Jolla that’s doing a 90’s Rom Com series all summer and takes her to a 35mm showing of Clueless, listening attentively as Nora explains the difference between digital and film projection in excruciating detail on the drive there, a smile on his face.

On the mornings that Jake doesn’t stay the night, Nora orders an extra coffee – with cream and sugar – from her favorite coffee shops and meets him on the base a half hour earlier than the rest of the Daggers. She kisses him in the quiet of the Ready Room until 8:00 AM rolls around.

It’s all meaningful looks and stolen kisses; late night drives with the windows down, the wind in her hair, his hand on her thigh; rolls of film, not yet developed. It’s something for them, something good.

They keep it under the radar in front of the Daggers.

She’s not worried about them finding out, but Captain Mitchell is an extension of the Daggers, and Nora would really like to keep Aunt Charlie’s ex-boyfriend in the dark about her sex life for as long as possible. Forever, even.

Also, she still has a month left in her contract, and while she’s pretty sure the Naval magazine wouldn’t fire her for sleeping with one of the film subjects in a documentary like this one, she’s not so sure that she wants to put it to the test.

So, for now, under the radar it is.

After the Fourth of July, Javy officially gets his orders to report to Maverick's squadron. He goes back to Lemoore to wrap up some loose ends with his old C.O., and Jake meets him there the next weekend to drive a U-Haul back down.

And Nora emails the magazine and lets them know that the documentary will have one more Dagger.

Nora has more than enough time to weave him into the narrative of the film, and anyway, Javy is an official member of the squadron now. He is as much part of the story of the squadron as the other Daggers.

Plus, Nora hasn’t forgotten how excited Javy was about the film. It’ll be seamless, her version of rolling out the red carpet for him.

On his second day, Nora pulls him aside between drills and sits him down in front of the camera.

It’s a good interview, which doesn’t surprise her in the slightest. He’s a lot like Jake in that way, effortlessly funny and charismatic with a glowing movie star smile. Her cheeks hurt from smiling by the end of the interview, completely and thoroughly charmed.

After, Nora walks back to the Ready Room with him, and Javy asks, “How was that?”

“Super good,” she tells him. He holds the door open for her, like a gentleman, and with a smile, Nora crosses the threshold ahead of him, looking at him over her shoulder. “No, but really, it was great. You’re a natural.”

On the couch, Jake grumbles, “I thought I was a natural,” and Nora swats at him on her way past.

Everyone gathers at the Jake’s apartment later that night to eat some pizza and watch a movie.

Nora is curled up on the opposite end of the couch as Jake with an unsuspecting Bob between them. At one point, Jake looks around the room and stretches his arm casually over the back of the couch, and Nora feels him fiddling with the end of her braid.

She hides her smile in her next sip of white wine.

She is peacefully watching the movie, drinking the wine and sharing a bowl of extra-butter popcorn with Bob when Natasha comes back from the bathroom and plops down on the carpet again with a smirk on her face.

“Hangman.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s nice of you to host and all, but next time, if you’re going to leave your bedroom door open, can you tell your girlfriend not to leave her underwear on the floor?”

Nora chokes.

A popcorn kernel shoots into her airway, and Nora coughs into her wine.

Jake subtly drops his arm behind the couch, letting go of her hair.

Looking down at Natasha, Jake raises his brows, like oh, who, me?, and smiles a familiar cat-like smile, unbothered and calm. “Sure, Phoenix. I’ll pass along the message.”

It’s immediately obvious that Natasha expected him to say anything but that.

She gapes at him, and meanwhile, Nora wishes it was possible to elbow Jake through Bob.

She curls further into the armrest and swallows a mouthful of wine that’s almost too much, wine dribbling out of the side of her mouth and onto her shirt.

What happened to under the radar?

And when did Nora leave his apartment without her underwear?

Is she wearing underwear now?

She pats her hip under the guise of smoothing out a wrinkle in her sweat shorts. All clear.

Natasha spends the last 30 minutes of Ocean’s Eleven grilling him – and when Jake smiles that infuriating plastic smile and doesn’t reveal anything, pivoting to Javy – about whether Jake does, in fact, have a girlfriend while Nora pretends to be engrossed in the movie and not eavesdropping.

“Wow, so Danny gets the money and the girl in the end. Good for him,” Nora says.

Bob gives her an odd look. “Haven’t you seen this movie before?”

She reaches for her wine again as a diversion, only to find the glass empty. Goddammit.

When Natasha is still in interrogation mode during the credits, Nora gathers the plates from the living room and escapes to the kitchen, hoping to hide in there until Natasha has even given up or gotten bored.

And knowing her, the latter is far more likely than the former.

Her peace ends about 30 seconds later when Bradley follows her.

He leans against the counter and unrolls the bag of cheese balls that Nora just clipped shut. Tosses one into his mouth. He grins at her knowingly, and Nora narrows her eyes at him in warning.

Don’t say a damn word.

Still, Bradley observes, “You followed my advice, Rogers.”

He’s not loud, but Bradley’s not exactly quiet by nature.

She sends a nervous glance into the other room and hisses, “We’re not doing this right now.”

She dumps the crumbs and uneaten pizza crusts into the garbage and stacks the dishes next to the sink. Turns on the sink to give them a little more privacy because if Nora knows him, Bradley has never left well enough alone in his life.

“Fine.” He knocks back a handful of cheese balls like a shot of vodka and dusts his hands off in a shower of orange crumbs. Nora looks between him and the roll of paper towels at his elbow with a scrunched brow. He doesn’t seem to notice and barrels on, “But listen, as a friend, can I ask you for something?”

“What?” Nora deadpans.

“Can I have like a 10 minute warning before you tell Hangman we slept together? I’d like to protect the goods.”

He gestures to his face, but Nora has a feeling Bradley also wants to protect something else.

She stifles a laugh. “He’s not gonna punch you for something that happened five years ago.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Except I do know that because I already told him.” She points to the counter behind him. “Can you hand me that bowl?”

He pauses mid-crunch and doesn’t move. “You told him?”

She sighs and reaches around him for the chip bowl herself. “Yes, Bradshaw, I told him.”

“And Hangman didn’t punch me?”

“Guess not.”

“I feel like I should be offended.”

She stares at him, incredulous. “Did you want him to punch you?”

“That’s not the point, Nora,” Bradley says, exasperated, like Nora is the one who’s being ridiculous here. “I can’t believe you told him without telling me. How’d he take it?”

“He didn’t care,” Nora says. She squirts dish soap onto a sponge and scrubs the potato chip grease from the bowl. “He actually thought it was funny.”

She suspected that Javy might’ve said something to his best friend about their conversation at the roller rink, and Nora didn’t want any lingering suspicions to turn into something bigger than the truth, something that might affect Jake or Bradley in their already high-risk jobs.

So Nora told him.

He seemed surprised at first.

And then, Jake laughed.

He laughed so hard that Nora hit him with a pillow to get him to stop.

“You and Bradshaw?” Jake chuckled. “You’re so out of his league, sweetheart. Jesus.”

“We were both drunk, okay?” Nora exclaimed. She felt a certain amount of protectiveness over her 24-year-old self and her weakness for men with big arms and sad eyes. Really, who could blame her? “He was older and hot and sad and – Would you stop laughing at me?”

“Funny,” Bradley repeats flatly.

Her lips twitch. “He asked if I’d always been passionate about volunteering with the elderly.”

A cheese ball rolls down his chest and under the fridge, and Nora bites the inside of her cheek.

Bradley purses his lips. “Now I feel like I should punch him.”

Eventually, Natasha decides that Jake must be messing with her – “Hangman couldn’t possibly be dating someone. He can never shut up. We’d all know about her.” – and Nora manages to make it out of the night unscathed with the rest of the Daggers none-the-wiser.

(Except Javy, who gives her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder on his way out.)

A week later, Nora is working late in the Ready Room.

She is leaning on her elbow with god-awful computer posture – one knee pulled up on the chair, a mist of sweat on her brow from the heat – and Jake pops in to the room to let her know that the Daggers are headed to the Hard Deck for an after-work drink.

“You gonna be much longer?” Jake asks. “Want me to wait for you?”

He sets his chin on her shoulder, watching her fingers move across the keyboard, kissing a spot underneath her ear that usually makes her brain go back, usually makes her sigh and melt into him, but Nora stays strong.

It’s just this one last thing.

She blows out a grounding several-seconds-long breath to keep herself focused.

“I’m almost done,” Nora replies evenly, impressively evenly, actually, “so don’t distract me.”

His lips pull into a grin against the side of her neck.

For his part, Jake doesn’t say anything else. He gives her space, leaning against the window, and watches her in silence.

She saves one last file, and once the external hard drive is properly ejected, Nora slams the laptop shut. She spins around to look at him, her elbows on the back of the chair, and Jake has his arms folded across his chest, looking effortless and handsome and effortlessly handsome in his black shirt.

Her lip catches between her teeth.

“Hi,” Nora breathes.

Expression soft, Jake says back, “Hi, sweetheart.”

“How was your day? Good?”

He nods. “You?”

She does the same, a dip of her chin.

Evening sun pierces through the open blinds, drenching the room in a copper hue and making it at least five degrees warmer, if not more, and Nora looks him over in the glow. Drinks him in like an Old Fashioned. Her favorite drink.

They’ve been talking a lot about those lately. Favorites.

Favorite movie. Favorite song. Favorite time of day.

When Harry Met Sally. Gold Dust Woman by Fleetwood Mac. That moment right before sunset when the whole sky and ocean turns pink.

She’s starting to realize Jake might be one of her favorites too.

She motions him closer, crooking her finger, and Jake bends indulgently, eyes bright.

She reaches for him. Coasts her palm along the slope of his chin, the cut-glass curve of his cheek, the prickle of stubble on his strong jawline.

She kisses him on the cheek and rests her lips there. Mumbles against his skin, “You could use a shave, cowboy.”

She feels him smile, feels the muscles in his face stretching and working.

“You don’t like the stubble, sweetheart?”

Nora actually does like the stubble. He looks a little more rugged, a little more like a cowboy. She can imagine him on a ranch in Texas, a sunburn on his broad shoulders, riding horses in his real-leather cowboy boots and his real-denim jeans, tipping his Stetson at her with a wink and a broad grin on his ride. She might like it a little too much.

“Well,” Nora drawls, “I didn’t say that.”

As Nora pulls back with a grin of her own, Jake catches her chin between his index and thumb and kisses her.

It’s such a good kiss that for a moment, Nora lets herself forget everything else.

She lets herself forget their surroundings; let herself forget the afternoon she spent making a list of gaps in the footage because she has less than fourteen days to fill them in, less than fourteen days left here.

She lets herself forget the rising number of unanswered emails in her inbox and her one-way plane ticket back to New York at the end of the month.

She lets herself forget anything that isn’t Jake’s hands on her hips, urging her to her feet and pushing her back against the table, hands sneaking under the hem of her shirt, and Nora’s hands in his hair, tousled from the wind and a little damp from his post-flight shower, smelling like soap and jet fuel.

She loses herself in him, in this.

A door creaks open, and she doesn’t even notice.

“Are you still here, Nora? Phoenix wanted me to ask if…”

All of the air rushes out of Bob mid-sentence.

He makes a noise like a punctured balloon – a kind of stunned Oh! sound – and quickly shuts the door again.

Nora breaks away from the kiss, but Bob’s long gone now, picture frames rattling in his wake.

“Oh… Oh my god.” Nora puts her hands over her face and lets out a panicked laugh into her palms. “What are the odds I could ask him not to tell anyone?”

“Slim to none,” Jake replies helpfully. “He’s probably already told Phoenix by now.”

“No way. It’s been like 30 seconds. How….” She grabs her phone, and not four seconds later, an incoming call from Natasha pops up on the screen. She presses decline with a startled sound and drops her phone back on the desk, like it’s a snake that bit her.

What the hell? Are Bob and Natasha telepathically linked?

Jake laughs. He looks far too smug for Nora’s liking.

She squints up at him. “And what exactly are you smiling about? I could get fired.”

She’s not really going to get fired, but she is feeling dramatic enough to say it anyway.

“You’re not gonna get fired,” Jake fires back without missing a beat. He hooks a finger in her belt loop and pulls her closer. “And I’m smiling because as much as I’ve liked having you all to myself these past few weeks…” A deliberate kiss against the column of her throat as Jake slides his palm up the same path. A breathy sigh. “... I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be happy to not have to sneak around anymore. Now, I’ll be able to kiss you anytime I want.”

“Is that a Sweet Home Alabama refer– oh?”

He cuts her off with another kiss, leg sliding between hers and up, his hand around the front of her throat.

It’s a long while before Nora packs up.

She’s only been at the Hard Deck for a few minutes when Bob comes over, looking sheepish, and apologizes with an Old Fashioned in hand.

“I’m sorry, Nora, I should’ve knocked,” Bob says, his shoulders rounded, contrite. “And I’m sorry I immediately told Phoenix.” A pause, and Bob’s cheeks redden a little. “And Fanboy and Payback and also, Rooster and Coyote, but both of them already knew.”

Nora laughs. “Jesus, Bob, I didn’t realize you were such a gossip.”

His blush deepens. “I’m sorry. I really thought everyone knew but me, but I guess Rooster and Coyote were the only ones.”

“It’s okay. We weren’t being very discreet,” Nora admits. She accepts the Old Fashioned with a forgiving squeeze of his arm. “Is Natasha mad? Like on a scale of 1 to Witness Protection?”

He pulls a face. “I think, more than anything, Phoenix is more mad she wasn’t the first one to figure it out. She’s also pissed Rooster knew and didn’t tell her.”

“I’ll let him take the heat for this one,” Nora says conspiratorially.

Bob smiles. “Probably a smart move.”

She kills the next half-hour and change at the pool table with Jake.

He’s apparently taken not sneaking around anymore to mean have his hands on her at all times. He stands too close and slips a hand into the back pocket of her jeans while Nora is trying to take her turn. Cheater.

Natasha comes over in the middle of a game, nursing a Blue Moon.

She stands at Nora’s side and looks down at the game. “I guess I should’ve known,” she says in the matter-of-fact tone of someone who has processed their surprise. “He’s always staring at you lately. You were either hooking up or in desperate need of a restraining order.”

“Jury’s still out on the restraining order,” Nora replies dryly and smiles when an eavesdropping Jake looks up sharply. He meets her gaze and shakes his head, a smirk hanging from the corner of his mouth.

A wrinkle between her brows, Natasha asks, “Is it pretty casual? Or are you guys like, dating now?”

“No,” Nora answers while at the exact same time, Jake calls, “Yes.”

A swooping feeling fills her stomach.

They haven’t used that word yet. Dating.

Dating has weight. Implications that Nora isn’t prepared to deal with right now.

Like, if they’re dating, what happens when she leaves?

And yet, foolishly, Nora really likes the sound of it.

She wrinkles her nose but doesn’t correct him, and Jake grins, like he’s won something.

Natasha observes this interaction with vague fascination.

“I’ll let you two figure that one out.” Natasha hoists herself onto a barstool, legs dangling, and nods to Jake. “I’ve got the next game with you, Nora. Hangman’s been hogging you over here.”

She and Natasha play a couple of games – first alone and then, against an overconfident pair of ensigns fresh from the Naval academy who wander over to hit on them. They win 40 bucks each off of them and send them packing.

And when Jake wraps his arms around her shoulders from behind, grinning lips pressed against her cheek, Nora spins around and kisses him on the mouth and doesn’t give a damn who sees.

On the last Friday of the month, Nora sends off the last few files and pieces of footage and organizes a wrap party for the documentary.

She loves this part of the filmmaking process – after weeks, months of work, a moment of pause and celebration and achievement. It’s such a singular and special experience to create something from start to finish, and Nora wants the Naval aviators have the chance to share in that moment with her. See what the last eight weeks have been for.

Captain Mitchell ends the day a few hours early and gathers the Naval aviators in the room where Nora first introduced herself to them all of those weeks ago.

A sharp sense of deja vu washes over her as Nora finds herself at the front of the room once again, eight weeks older. She’s not looking out on a group of half-acquaintances, practical strangers, watching her with caution and curiosity. These are her friends. She sees nothing but excitement and anticipation in their eyes.

It’s always a bittersweet feeling, and Nora pushes down the overwhelm that rises in her chest, sticking to the sides of her throat. She swallows hard.

Bradley cups his hands around his mouth and calls, “Speech! Speech! Speech!”

She exhales a laugh, relaxing. “I do have a little speech. More of an introduction, actually.” She links her fingers and holds them in front of her stomach to give herself something to do with her hands. “Making something like this is never easy. It’s almost always disruptive, but I felt so welcome here. You made it feel easy.”

She continues, “I’m only contracted as the filmmaker so I’m not doing the final edit of the film, but I didn’t want to send it off into post-production without showing you something that represents your hard work and dedication. You’ve volunteered a lot of your time to this project. It’s as much your achievement as mine.” She plugs in her laptop and pulls up the video and smiles. “I have a few minutes of footage for you.”

A chorus of whoops and cheers, and Nora presses the play button.

Text appears on the black screen as Nora quietly sits down.

On March 3, 1969, the UNITED STATES NAVY established an elite school for the top one percent of its pilots. Its purpose was to teach the LOST ART OF AERIAL COMBAT and to ensure that the handful of men (and now women) who graduated were the BEST FIGHTER PILOTS IN THE WORLD. They succeeded.

The Navy calls it Fighter Weapons School. You might know it better as TOP GUN.

A video of Captain Mitchell fades in, and Bradley claps loudly and shouts, “Let’s go, Mav!”

Natasha shushes him – and maybe punches him in the shoulder because Bradley lets out a pained groan.

“These men and women,” Captain Mitchell says on the screen. “This squadron. There’s never been a squadron like this one in the history of the Naval aviation.” He fades to voice-over over a rapid-fire reel of in-air footage: Jets cut through the blue skies at impossible speeds, perform incredible high-speed maneuvers, again and again and again. A black screen as Captain Mitchell declares, “These are the best fighter pilots on the planet.”

A small smile dances on Nora’s lips, anticipating.

What follows is a straight-forward but effective pattern.

Each Dagger appears on the screen and says their call sign, and Nora clipped something from their interview – a good anecdote, a particularly memorable quote – with footage of them in the air or b-roll of them on the base.

On the screen, Jake – Lieutenant Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, reads the lower-third – flashes a 1000-watt smile to the side of the camera, and Nora smiles despite herself. He was looking at her. She remembers it so vividly, sitting there, pretending not to be charmed by him, pretending not to want him.

Next to her, Jake leans over and whispers, “You remember when you told me you didn’t like me after this?”

“Shut up,” Nora whispers back, smiling.

He grows closer, lips brushing her ear. “Now, why would I? We both know how much you love to shut me up, sweetheart.”

A rose pink blush spreads across her cheeks, and Jake chuckles.

Behind him, Natasha kicks his chair. “Zip it, Hangman. Stop flirting during my big moment.”

And Natasha’s JUST loud enough that Captain Mitchell hears.

He looks over with a frown. His gaze snags on where Hangman’s arm hangs ever-so-casually over the side of his chair, his pinky finger brushing against the side of Nora’s hand.

Pete Mitchell huffs out an amused exhale and shakes his head and thinks about all of the improbably and impossible ways that history seems to repeat itself. He looks over his shoulder and spots a familiar figure, slipping into the back of the room unnoticed. He nods to them and directs his attention back to the screen.

A short round of applause breaks out at the end of the video, and Nora beams.

She does a little half-bow at Natasha’s insistence.

“Thank you. You can stop now,” Nora laughs. She collects her laptop from the podium and holds it against her chest. “A military base isn’t the best place for a real wrap party, but Penny’s been kind enough to host us at her house tonight so I’ll see you all there, but while I’m here and still on the clock, any last questions?”

A beat of silence.

A familiar voice rings out from the back of the room.

“Can I ask one?”

Shock burns down the length of her spine, a sparked fuse of a stick of dynamite, and Nora straightens.

“What the fuck?” spills out of her mouth. She gapes. “Charlie?”

Standing in front of the red-and-blue Fighter Weapons School emblem, a leather bomber around her shoulders, a pair of aviator sunglasses in her graying curls, Charlie looks like one of her old photo albums come to life. A wide smile stretches across her face, making her look three decades younger.

What? How? And again, what?

“Last I checked,” Charlie says with a smooth smile. She nods to Captain Mitchell. “Maverick.”

“Charlie.” He doesn’t sound surprised. “Good to see you again.”

Nora is mostly definitely surprised. Stunned. “But… Charlie, what’re you doing here?”

Charlie leans against the back wall, arms crossed, effortlessly cool.

“Pete here was kind enough to let me know about the wrap party, and I thought, what the hell? Maybe I should take one of those vacation days the Pentagon is always on me about.” Her expression softens as Charlie takes her in. “It’s good to see you, sweetie.”

Charlie’s here. She’s here.

Nora blinks rapidly.

And promptly bursts into tears.

Half an hour later, Nora is sitting at a high top in a secluded corner of the hotel bar where Charlie is staying.

She orders an Old Fashioned from the waiter, and Charlie orders a glass of Pinot Noir and swirls the maroon wine around in her glass like a seasoned professional. Nora’s never really understood the point of doing that – something about letting the wine breathe – but it does make Charlie look pretty sophisticated.

Then again, with her red lips and her Grace Kelly curls, Charlie always looks pretty sophisticated.

She sips her wine, lipstick un-smudged, and studies Nora over the glass.

Nora prepares herself for the inevitable barrage of questions.

Something along the lines of, So what happened? Did you lose your phone? or maybe, Why did you start crying in the middle of the Naval base like a certified head case? Both of which are fair enough questions.

Bob was the first one to recover from his alarm and procured a packet of Kleenex from one of the pockets of his flight suit. He offered her one with a sympathetic smile, and Nora blew her nose with a grateful nod.

To his credit, Captain Mitchell snapped into action and quickly ushered the rest of the Daggers out of the room.

“Let’s give them some privacy,” Nora heard Captain Mitchell say as Charlie wrapped her in a hug. His voice grew a little sterner, a little harder. “You too, Hangman. Let’s go.”

She opened her wet eyes, and Captain Mitchell had his hand on Jake’s shoulder, but Jake was looking at her, concern plain on his face, his lips downturned.

She gave him a watery smile, and Jake’s shoulders visibly relaxed.

He was still the last one out of the room.

Now, Charlie looks her over and comments brightly, “You’ve got some color in your cheeks. Are you spending a lot of time on the beach?”

She blinks. That’s… not a question Nora was expecting.

“They put me up in an apartment right on the beach, and the Daggers like to go down to North Beach and play volleyball and football, so I hang out with them sometimes.”

“You play football?” Charlie asks, skeptical and amused.

“I read.”

“Ah. Of course. Anything good?”

What is happening right now? “Yeah, sure, I guess.”

“Good.”

Charlie drinks her wine and doesn’t ask anything else.

Nora stares at her. “Charlie?”

“Hm?”

“Aren’t you going to ask?”

“No.”

She almost laughs. “No?”

“No,” Charlie repeats simply. She flags down the waiter and points to the appetizers on the Happy Hour menu. “Excuse me. Could we get an order of the whipped ricotta and then, the truffle parmesan fries? You can charge it to my room. Thanks, hon.”

Nora stares at her aunt like she’s been body snatched, and Charlie sighs.

“Listen,” Charlie starts. “You haven’t called me in weeks so clearly, whatever you’ve got going on is something you’re not ready to share with me right away, and if I know you at all – and I like to think I do – I know I’ll get absolutely nowhere if I push you.” She picks up her glass and swirls it again. “So, we’ll get a couple of drinks and split some appetizers, and when you’re ready, you can tell me what’s going on.”

They do exactly that.

Nora orders a second drink and spreads honey-drizzled ricotta across pieces of baguette and fills Charlie in on the last eight weeks, every minuscule and probably uninteresting detail about the documentary and the squadron. She does, however, gloss over a few crucial details about Jake, as is her right as guaranteed by the Fifth amendment. She’s also not quite sure how to explain it herself.

And eventually, when her drink is down to ice and the bread down to crumbs, Nora tells her aunt what’s going on.

And Charlie listens.

She listens to everything.

Every doubt and fear. Every uncertainty that’s been weighing Nora down for the past year and a half, making her feel like she’s caught in a bear trap, like she can’t move, like she can’t breathe.

Admitting all of these big and all-consuming feelings to Charlie is scary and freeing in equal measures, but in the end, where there was once a pit in her stomach, she feels relief. She feels one breath closer to the surface.

When Nora is done, her mouth is dried out. She chugs half a glass of water.

And almost spits it all back out when Charlie’s first words are: “So why don’t you quit?”

“What?” Nora asks, more of a stunned syllable than a question.

“If you don’t want to do it anymore,” Charlie says plainly, “don’t.”

Her brows are high on her forehead as Nora asks, bewildered, “So what? Give up?”

“I didn’t say give up,” Charlie sighs, and it brings Nora back to her teen years when Charlie would accuse her of being difficult on purpose. “I said quit.”

“They feel like the same thing.”

“They’re not.”

She bites her lip and looks over Charlie’s shoulder and out of the window.

“Isn’t it like…” Nora blows out a breath. “If I quit now, isn’t it like I’m flushing six years of my life down the drain?”

Charlie shrugs. “You still did a lot in those six years. Changing your mind doesn’t take away from any of those accomplishments, but now, maybe it’s time for you to do something else, something you like more. Start over.”

Nora sits back. “You say it like it’s simple. Easy.”

“It might not be easy. It most likely won’t be, but it is that simple, yes.”

Words catch in her throat, and when Nora says it out loud, her voice sounds small. “I’m scared.”

Her aunt’s face softens. She reaches across the table and cups Nora’s hand.

“You’re allowed to be scared. Everyone’s scared.”

She blows out a shaky breath to keep herself from crying again, but a slight crack in her voice gives her away. Damn. “Yeah? When’s the last time you were scared you couldn’t do something?”

God. She regrets the words almost immediately.

She sounds childish, petulant, but right now, Nora feels like the 16-year-old who snuck Charlie’s red lipstick from her make-up pouch and got busted because she accidentally put it back uncapped and ruined the inside of the bag. Or like the 21-year-old who ordered an Old Fashioned for her first legal drink because Charlie used to drink them at home and hated it so much that Nora wouldn’t drink another for four more years.

Like all Nora ever wants to be is someone that Charlie can be proud of.

All of the sudden, Charlie looks very far away. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared than when your mom died. She made being a parent look so easy, and I got to be the cool Aunt Charlie on the sidelines, and then, she was gone, and I was so scared I’d fuck up and undo everything.”

Nora’s eyes burn. “Charlie, I never… You never said anything.”

“Of course not,” Charlie dismisses with a shake of her head, curls bouncing. “You were still a kid. You were grieving. You needed stability, and I knew I had to do my best because sometimes, you’re scared and you do it anyway.”

“Fail with your whole heart,” Nora quotes softly, and Charlie squeezes her hand.

“See I could’ve never come up with something like that, but god, your mom…” Charlie wipes at her eyes with a cloth napkin and smiles. “She was born to be writer. When I got my first interview with the Pentagon, I had less than 24-hours notice. I was living in New York at the time, and I’d need to hop on a train and hope I could find a hotel for the night when I got down there."

"Honestly, I thought about not going, but your mom sat me down and said, ‘Charlotte,’” and Charlie straightens her spine and does her best impression of her sister, “‘You get your bony ass to Grand Central, and I’ll call every damn hotel in DC and find you a room. You got the interview, and now, all you have to do is follow through and take the leap.”

“And you did,” Nora finishes. “You did the interview, got the job, and the rest is history.”

“I did. I followed her advice. I decided that if I was going to fail, I should do it bravely.” Charlie squeezes her hand once more and lets it go. “It’s your turn now, sweetie.”

Nora goes to the bathroom to clean up her mascara and when she comes back, Charlie is signing the check.

She checks her watch. “It’s almost five o’clock. Do you want to head over to Penny’s?”

“Give me one second.” Nora reaches for her purse and pulls out her phone. “I have to call someone back.”

Penny Benjamin lives in a beautiful house in La Jolla that looks like something out of Architectural Digest magazine.

A classic California bungalow with off-white siding and wide blue-trim windows and a garden wrapping around the side, summer green dotted with pinks and yellows and reds; on an elegant cliffside, overlooking the Pacific.

It’s a good half hour from San Diego so when Nora and Charlie arrive, the street is lined with cars.

Last week, Nora asked Admiral Simpson for a full list of everyone who’d been on the base during the making of the documentary and forwarded the names to Penny for the wrap party. When Admiral Simpson asked her why she needed them and she explained – she wanted anyone who’d so much as stood on the tarmac while she’d been filming to be included in the celebration – she could’ve sworn he looked a little impressed.

Still, Nora is surprised to see him in the garden, chatting with Admiral Bates with a beer in his hand, a pretty woman next to him who must be his wife.

“I’m gonna go say hi to Warlock and Cyclone,” Charlie says, patting Nora’s shoulder, and Nora nods and watches her go.

She doesn’t see Penny anywhere so Nora goes into the house and finds her in the kitchen. She gives her a quick hug and hands over a bottle of Prosecco – which Charlie had insisted on stopping for on the drive because Charlie couldn’t possibly show up to her ex-boyfriend’s current girlfriend’s house without an expensive bottle of something.

“What am I?” Charlie asked. “Some kind of asshole?

“Oh, Nora,” Penny gasps, hand fluttering over her heart. “This is your party. You didn’t need to bring me something.”

“Oh please. Charlie’s outside. It’s from both of us,” Nora waves her off as Penny admires the bottle. It was the prettiest one in the store. “Thank you so much for doing this by the way. Your house is so beautiful.”

Now, Penny’s the one to wave her off. “No, no, I was happy to do it. We’ll all miss having you around, even Pete. He probably won’t say it himself, but I’ll say it for him.” Nora smiles widely, and Penny shoos her out of the kitchen. “I’ll open this up and bring it out, but you get your butt outside and enjoy the party.”

Obliging, Nora makes her way back outside.

A makeshift bar is in the middle of the garden, and Nora finds her aunt pouring herself a glass of wine.

“Come on,” Nora nudges. “You can meet some of my friends.”

They make the rounds around the garden. She introduces Charlie to Natasha, who looks as starstruck as Nora has ever seen her.

Shaking her hand firmly, Natasha asks, excited, “You were Maverick’s instruction at Top Gun, right?”

“One of them,” Charlie answers coolly.

“You knew Viper then? And Iceman?”

“I did.”

“So cool,” Natasha breathes, and Bob nudges her with a small, side smile.

“Charlie,” Bradley calls out and rushes over to give her a big hug, lifting her kitten heels off the ground. It’s been a few years since Bradley last saw Charlie so Nora’s not surprised that Bradley and Charlie have a lot of catching up to do. She’s happy to listen and chime in every so often.

Awhile later, Bradley leaves to grab another plate of food, and gaze sweeping across the garden, Charlie turns to Nora and asks, unexpectedly, “Are you going to introduce me to your boyfriend?”

Nora manages not to blush. She raises her brows. “I would if I had one.”

“Really?” Charlie asks, like, Is that the story you’re going with? “Then, who’s that handsome man over there making moon eyes at you?”

Shit.

Nora looks over, and sure enough, even in the middle of a conversation with Javy, Mickey, and Reuben, Jake doesn’t seem to be paying one damn bit of attention to anything coming out of their mouths. His eyes are on her. Always on her.

She bites back a smile. And beckons him over.

He crosses the garden in a few long strides and after Nora introduces him (“This is my aunt, Charlie Blackwood.”), Jake greets her with a nod and an extended hand. “Jake Seresin, ma’am.”

“Jake,” Charlie repeats with recognition. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Finally? Nora frowns slightly. She’s never mentioned him before this afternoon.

His lips part in a wide, charming smile. “Likewise, ma’am.”

Charlie looks amused. “You don’t have to keep calling me ma’am.”

“He’s from Texas,” Nora offers like an explanation, a little too quickly, and Charlie’s arched brow makes her cheeks grow warm. She avoids her eyes, squinting at the horizon and pretending to be fascinated by the gulls over the beach.

Charlie’s not fooled. She smirks and asks, “Texas, huh? What part?”

“Austin,” Jake replies. It’s a visible effort not to add ma’am at the end.

“You don’t say. Did Nora ever tell you that my husband John went to UT Austin?”

A spark lights up his eyes, and Jake seems to be doing fine on his own so Nora leaves him alone to grab another drink in the midst of an in-depth discussion of the Texas Longhorns. She spots Ethan and Chris on her way back and gets pulled into a conversation with them, saying goodbye and wishing them luck in their next projects in case Nora misses them later.

When Nora returns, Jake and Charlie are still talking. She must like him.

Jake smiles at Nora and in his brown sugar voice, says, “I’ll let you enjoy the rest of the evening with your niece, ma’am. She’s pretty spectacular.”

She could kick him. Or kiss him. Or both.

“She is,” Charlie agrees. “Nice to meet you, Jake. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you.”

She could kick both of them.

When Jake is out of earshot, Charlie comments, “He’s very charming.”

Nora almost laughs. “I know.”

“He likes you.”

She does laugh now. “Believe me, I know.”

“He’s the one who called me,” Charlie adds casually, and Nora whirls on her.

“What? You said Captain Mitchell called you.”

Charlie shakes her head, smiling, a knowing smile. “Pete was the one who forwarded me the invite, but Jake called me.” A chuckle. “He called me ma’am on the phone too.”

She smiles despite herself because of course.

“What’d Jake say? What made you come?” Nora asks.

“He said that you needed me and you probably wouldn’t call me and tell me that outright, but you were having a hard time.” Charlie looks at her sidelong, lips curled at the ends, a dimple in her cheek. “He knows you pretty well, your not-boyfriend.”

Nora looks for him again.

She finds him on the other side of the garden, laughing at something Bradley is saying, hair a golden halo in the summer evening sun. He called Charlie. She never asked, never needed to ask. He just… knew.

And Nora falls a little bit in love with him right then and there; in the same way a little bit of rain falls on your window at the beginning of a mid-August storm.

A preview before an inevitable downpour.

Evening begins to blend into night, and Nora sits on the steps of the porch to watch the sunset.

It’s a good vantage point. She can see everyone and everything.

Bob brought a deck of cards and now, the Daggers are playing a game of Bullshit on a massive picnic blanket that Penny brought outside for them, and Penny’s daughter Amelia sits with them, giggling when Bradley loses and pretends to stomp off.

Nora watches as Charlie goes over to Captain Mitchell and gently puts a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry about Ice. He was a good man.”

Captain Mitchell nods, his mouth a line, emotion crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Thanks, Charlie.”

He opens his mouth to say something else, but Nora looks away.

He gave her privacy earlier. She’ll return the favor.

A step creaks behind her, and Nora dips her head back to see Jake.

“Hi cowboy,” Nora greets, and Jake grins down at her.

He drops onto the step next to her, arm stretched behind her.

“How’d it go with Charlie?” Jake asks.

“Good,” Nora says. She rests her chin on her palm, her elbow on her knee, and studies him closely. “She told me that you called her. How’d you even get her number?”

“Bradshaw,” Jake replies. He meets her gaze and holds it, green on blue, sparkling like the ocean. “Seemed like, maybe you needed her.”

Her chest aches, and Nora says softly, “Thank you.”

His wide palm spreads across her leg, fingertips dangling to brush against the inside of her thigh. “How long’s she staying?”

“A week. She changed her flight. She’s flying back to New York with me, instead of D.C.”

Silence falls like an anchor, plummeting to the ocean floor. A muscle works in his jaw, like Jake’s chewing on his next words. “What happens now?”

For her? For them?

She doesn’t have all the answers, but Nora at least has this.

“How do you feel about long distance?” Nora asks, watching him carefully.

A smile flickers on his face as Jake realizes what Nora is asking.

“California to New York? I can probably swing a few flights, cash in some miles.”

She sets her hand over his, fiddling with his fingers. “That’s sweet, but I was actually thinking more like, North Island to here.”

“Here?” He looks confused, adorably so, and Nora holds back a smile.

“Turns out that Charlie has some empty-nester friends here from her Top Gun days. They’re looking to rent out their guest house for the rest of the year. It’s not far from here actually, within walking distance of the beach.” She can feel her heart pounding like Nora’s running a marathon as Jake slowly start to understand. “I turned down the offer, Jake. I’m moving back to California.”

She called Jenna from the hotel bar. She was a little bit annoyed with Nora, understandably.

Her first words were, “Are you kidding me? You waited until now to tell me this?”

But after a few minutes of Nora’s apologetic I know, I’m sorry, I know, Jenna was ultimately supportive.

“Damn, Nora. This is a real loss for our industry, but I’m happy for you. If you never need a connection in Hollywood, call me. I know people who know people.”

And one day, Nora might take her up on that, but right now, Nora needs a break. A real one. And California feels like the right place for her to take one. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it here until she came back.

“You’re staying,” Jake repeats slowly, like Jake’s afraid to believe her.

She reassures him with a nod. “I still have a storage unit back in New York so I have to go back, and I have a few things left at Charlie’s, but Charlie’s coming to help me clean it out and move what I need. And…” Nora drifts off and for once, the uncertainty doesn’t seem so scary. It’s wide open and hopeful.

Jake wipes his hand down his face and sets his hand on his chest, right above his pounding heart, looking utterly relieved. “You’re… god, Hollywood, you’re gonna give a man a heart attack someday.”

“You love it,” Nora teases.

He lifts his chin with his knuckle, holding her gaze. “I really, really do.”

And when Jake kisses her, it feels like maybe he means something else.

Cheeks warm, Nora looks out at the horizon, and it’s that perfect time between day and night when the whole ocean is a watercolor of pale pink and purple. She kisses the carved dimple in his cheek and leans into his strong shoulder, and Jake tucks her under his chin, rubbing his thumb across her palm, over her heart line.

Breathing in the smell of the ocean and him, Nora closes her eyes and catches her breath.

end note: charlie, my beloved. i didn't mean for this to be so long, but i hope you enjoyed 🩵 likes are always appreciated, but comments and reblogs make my whole day. i love hearing from y'all.

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bellaireland1981 · 2 days

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Thanks!! I literally was flying by the seat of my pants on that lol hoping for the best!

Finding Freedom | Part 2

Summary: After your dad pulled not only Bradley’s Naval Academy application but your own as well, the two of you cut him out of your lives. Forced to find your own way to make your dreams come true, it became you and Bradley against the world. Now, engaged and highly successful, despite your father’s interference, you’re both recalled to Top Gun for a high stakes mission. Will this be an opportunity to put the past behind you all and find freedom from the hurt and anger…or will it lead to you losing everyone you’ve ever loved?

Cast/Pairings: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mitchell! Reader (Female) call sign Siren , Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x Daughter! Reader, All the Daggers! Penny.

Warnings: Slight angst (if you blink), fluff, illusions to sex– warnings will be marked in future part(s).

Word Count: 4276

A/N: Top Gun Maverick is property of Paramount, I do not own the characters, I DO own original/reader characters and the storyline pertaining to the original characters. I do NOT give permission for anyone to copy my work, use my work in AI, translate, print, sell, or post my work to any other platform, including this one. I will find you. Don’t be an asshole.

Taglist is open! If I missed anyone who asked to be tagged, please fill out this GOOGLE FORM to be added. It’s getting to hard to keep track of asks.

Requested by @kcloveswrestling Hope you like it!!!

Masterlist Part 1

You left the hotel the next morning, grabbing breakfast and coffee on your way to base. You’d left with enough time so that the two of you could stop off to check in and find out about temporary housing. You hoped you’d be able to score a temporary on base apartment that the two of you could share or at least officer quarters near one another in the worst case scenario.

As luck would have it you had been able to grab a one bedroom efficiency apartment and were given keys to drop your stuff off before you had to report to the hangar. Unfortunately, scoring the apartment was where you luck ran out that morning.

You were settled in a seat next to Bradley with Nix on the other side of you and Bob next to her. You were briefed shortly by Admiral Simpson and Admiral Bates in very generic terms of the mission but as soon as they introduced the instructor that would be preparing you for the mission, the world came to a screeching halt. Next to you, you could feel Bradley tense up before his hand was reaching over and sliding into your own. He squeezed your hand three times softly letting you know he loved you. You squeezed back, glancing over at him.

“Breathe.” He whispered softly, “We’ll be ok.”

Setting eyes on your father for the first time in years sent a flurry of mixed emotions cascading through your system. You could feel the burning pin prick sensation behind your eyes, forcing you to blink back tears. You would have time later to break down and process. You took a deep breath and steeled yourself to power through this. You knew you’d be able to fall apart later with Bradley if you needed to.

Phoenix glanced over at you sensing the tension coming from you. You made eye contact and nodded subtly to let her know you were ok. She knew there was a complicated history between your dad and you and between your dad and Bradley but you’d never gone into the full details.

You tuned back in when your dad was dropping the manual to the F-18 into the trash. You rolled your eyes and sat back in your seat. He went on to say this mission would come down to being not about the plane but the pilot in the box.

“Meet me out on the tarmac.” He said, “We’ll be going up so I can see what you all can do.”

After being dismissed you and Bradley got the hell out of the room, both needing air. You stopped in the locker room, grabbing your helmets and getting yourselves suited.

“You doing ok, Sweetheart?” Bradley asked, pausing in the hall and tugging you to the side, “I know that was a lot. A big shock.”

“I’m ok.” You said quietly, “I’m really glad you were there with me. Are you ok?”

“I’m not happy about it.” He admitted, “I’m pissed he once again has our fate in his hands… but I’m ok. I’m glad you were there with me too. No matter what happens, Siri, we’ll get through this together. “

“We will just have to prove to him how fucking wrong he was, Roo.” You said, “I love you too.”

“Ready to go give him hell?” He asked, smiling.

“I’m ready when you are.” You replied, smiling back at him. “I bet it’ll freak him the fuck out when he realizes that not only are we both here but we fly together.”

“Bet he tries to get us split up.” Bradley grumbled, “I’ll fight that one until the end of my career.”

“I don’t know that even he has that power, Roo.” You assured him.

The two of you made your way out onto the tarmac, heading to your plane.

“Rooster, Siren,” You hear your dad calling your call signs. With the noise out on the tarmac though, you’re able to keep walking, pretending to not hear him.

“Y/N… Bradley!” He called louder this time… you kept walking.

“Lieutenant Bradshaw! Lieutenant Mitchell!” He finally yelled. Hearing your rank by a superior officer, you and Bradley finally stop. He looks at you reassuringly before the two of you turn to face your father who is now coming to stand in front of you.

“Are you going to wash us out of this mission too, Sir?” Bradley asked, his voice hard, tone just on the right side of remaining respectful enough when talking to someone who outranked him.

“That will depend on you.” Mav replied. “Look…”

“Are we dismissed, Sir?” You asked, matching Bradley’s tone, cutting off whatever your dad was about to say. “With all due respect, we’re here to train for a mission and that’s what we plan to do. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

At a loss for words, your dad just nodded his head. You and Bradley turned and headed to your plane, both feeling your father’s eyes watching you as you went.

When you got to the plane, you both shook off the encounter and jumped straight into your preflight checks, working as a well oiled team, getting everything ready for take off. Once everything outside was ready, you climbed into your seat and Bradley into the cockpit, both getting ready to go up in the air.

“You doing ok, Siri?” Bradley asked, making sure to stay off the comms.

“I’m ok, Roo.” You replied, reaching forward to run your hand over his shoulder in front of you. “You good?” He reached up, taking your hand in his, turning his head to place a gentle kiss on your hand.

“I’m good.” He answered. “As much as it pains me to say it, I’m kinda looking forward to watching Mav knock Hangman down a few pegs.”

“As much as it pains me, I’m kinda hoping Hangman shows Mav up.” You replied dryly, “It’s about time someone does.”

“That honor will go to us, sweetheart.” He chuckled.

You both tuned into the comms again, listening as the other aviators went up to engage in practice dogfights with your dad. Payback and Fanboy had decided it would be a wonderful idea to wager 200 pushups to whoever gets shot down. You and Bradley had groaned at that, knowing it was a bad idea to goad Mav.

In pairs they went up working as a team to try to take down Mav. You watched and listened to each team get shot down, returning to the tarmac to complete their pushups under Hondo’s watchful eye.

“Rooster and Siren cleared for take off on runway 4.” The flight tower instructed, “Coyote cleared on runway 5.”

You and Bradley were airborne with Coyote coming up next to you flying close.

“What’s the plan?” Coyote asked over the comms.

“Not to do 200 pushups?” You replied, looking over at him through the canopy.

“That would be my preference too.” He chuckled, “Any ideas?”

“Just stay alert.” Bradley said, “He’ll come out of nowhere.”

“Noted.” Coyote replied.

You kept an eye on the radar and all screens in front of you as well as keeping watch through the canopy while Bradley flew. You knew he was keeping a vigilant watch on the horizon and everything he could see as well.

“Where is he?” Coyote asked after you’d been flying for awhile.

Mav came out of nowhere buzzing past to get your attention and to toy with you all.

“Been here the whole time.” He commented.

“Fight on.” Bradley said, gritting his teeth, “Coyote bank left!”

“Banking left.” Coyote went left while Bradley took the two of you right.

“Keep talking to me, Siri.” Bradley said “I need eyes on him.”

“Coming back around, Coyote, drop down!” You called, seeing your dad line him up for a shot.

Coyote dropped his plane down, diving out of range of Mav.

“Rooster! Pull up and bank right.” Coyote called, from his position he’d have the vantage point to see where Mav was better now.

“I lost him, Rooster.” You said, frantically searching the radar, “Coyote, where is he?”

“Two o’clock, I’m in range.” Coyote called, “Taking the shot.” He lined up to lock on Mav, but the older pilot rolled at the last minute, and pulled back speed so that Coyote was now in front of him. “Shit! What the fuck was that?”

“We’re inbound Coyote, bank right!” Bradley called, but it was too late. Mav had the target locked and shot Coyote.

“I’m hit.” Coyote said, “Sorry, Rooster. See you on the ground.”

“It’s just us Roo.” You whispered, knowing he’d hear you, then louder, “Let’s engage Rooster.”

Bradley led Mav on a chase, dropping lower and lower.

“Roo, we’re approaching the hard deck.” You warned, “What’s your plan?”

“Do you trust me?” He asked

“With my life.” You replied, “Assuming there is a plan here.”

“How low are you planning to go, Rooster?” Mav asked

“I can go as low as you, Sir.” He fired back, “Which is saying something.”

You continued at the breakneck speed at the low altitude, warnings blaring that you’re at the hard deck for what felt like forever before suddenly Bradley shoots up, flipping you around so you somehow manage to get behind Mav. You quickly take advantage and get him locked.

“Rooster, I have him locked,” You called, “Take the shot.”

You’re not sure what happened, but Bradley seemed to freeze, unable to take the shot.

“Rooster!” You called, “Fire the shot!”

“You had your chance, kid.” Mav said, flipping over the top of us to get the drop on us, taking his shot. “Head back to the tarmac and see Hondo about your pushups.”

Coming out of the fog he’d been in, you could tell Bradley was equal parts pissed and disappointed in himself and at Mav. You remained silent knowing there was nothing you could say in this situation that would help him. You knew why he froze, you weren’t mad at him, you were worried about him. You knew that whatever this mission was, there would be no room for him to freeze up or to be second guessing himself or his abilities. You loved him and you trusted him with your life but there were times when you knew he played it too safe.

Once you’d landed, you gave him as much space as possible, heading over to Hondo to get started on the 200 pushups. Javy was waiting on you to start.

“We’ll get him next time.” Javy said, trying to be reassuring. You offered him a half smile and positioned yourself so you were between them, dropping down to ready yourself for your pushups.

Midway through, Harvard, Omaha and Fritz passed by and paused for a “selfie” harassing the three of you. Hondo got them moving as the three of you clenched your jaws and kept going. By the time you were done you collapsed to the tarmac unable to feel your arms. You didn’t care if they left you to die right there.

Coyote made his way back to the locker rooms to shower and change. Bradley sat up, catching his breath, still not saying anything.

Phoenix came out with two bottles of water and crouched down next to the pair of you.

“What happened up there?” She asked, always one to be straightforward. “What the hell was that, Bradley? Flying below the hard deck? Are you trying to get kicked out? I’m going on this mission, Bradshaw, and I need you and Siren with me… or I’m left with Hangman and I don’t trust him not to hang me out to dry.”

You remained silent, choosing that moment to take a drink of your water. You’d let Bradley decide how much of the story he wanted to tell. The two of you would have some talking to do later, for now you’d follow his lead.

“He pulled our papers.” He said quietly, finally speaking, “Set our careers back 4 years.”

“What?” Phoenix asked, shocked. She sat down next to you both, “Why would he do that?”

“He said he didn’t think we were ready.” You answered, “But it’s a bullshit answer. He’s a hypocrite. And he was scared. The point is he had no right to do it.”

“Was today the first time you’ve seen him since you were 18?” she asked, starting to piece things together.

“Yup.” Bradley replied, “We took off as soon as we knew what he did. Stayed with friends until graduation and then went to stay with one of the uncles we’d inherited from both of our dad’s squadron until we started college.”

“Wow.” She replied, “That’s a lot. I’m sure it was a shock finding out he’d be the instructor. It was bound to happen eventually. Kind of shocked that your paths hadn’t crossed yet.”

“I have a theory on that.” You replied, quietly, “One that I’m too much of a coward to check on.”

“Baby you’re many things, but a coward is not one of them.” Bradley said, reaching over to take your hand gently.

“I get that this is hard on both of you and I will do whatever I can to be here and support you, but I need you both on this mission.” Phoenix said, “And that means not getting washed out before it starts. You need to find a way to set aside the personal shit and focus on being the best damn option so there’s no choice but to send the pair of you. THAT will show him he was wrong.”

“Thanks Nix.” You replied. “We’ll try not to leave you with Hangman.”

“You better not!” She said, “Now come on, let’s get the two of you off the tarmac…I love you both, but you need showers.”

After showering and getting changed back into your service khakis you both made your way to the rec room where you could listen in to what was left of the aviators in the air with Mav and grab a quick bite to eat. You made sure to steer Bradley to the back corner of the room and as far from Jake as possible. You knew without a doubt the man would take pleasure in pointing out all of Bradley’s mistakes from the flight, even though he had ended up on the tarmac doing pushups after hanging Nix and Bob out to dry.

Javy offered a soft smile as you walked past, before immediately pulling Jake into a conversation to distract him from starting in on Bradley.

“I know we need to talk about it.” Bradley said quietly, when the two of you were seated, “But can we wait until we get back to the apartment tonight?”

“I wasn’t going to push, Roo.” You replied gently, “We can talk tonight. I just need to know you’re ok.”

“Fuck, Siri.” He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face before pulling you closer to him on the couch, “I literally fucked it all up today and you’re still just worried if I’M ok. I don’t even deserve you.”

“Roo.” You argued, “You did not fuck it all up. You and I both knew today was going to be hard as soon as we saw who our instructor was going to be. I love you. Us against the world, remember?”

“I love you too, Baby.” He whispered, “You and me…always.”

“Are you ok?” You asked again.

“I’m ok.” He replied, offering a weak smile. “Are you doing ok?”

“Of course.” You said, smiling, drawing a soft chuckle from him.

The two of you managed to eat a small lunch while the rest of the groups made it through their turn in the air with Mav. Despite what happened, in the end, you and Bradley had been the closest to shooting Mav down. It was a fact you took pleasure in pointing out to Jake when he attempted to get smug and make comments when you were all on the way out later that afternoon.

“Anyone up for the Hard Deck?” Payback asked, “Feeling the need to relax a bit after today.”

“I’m in.” Fanboy said, “Although, I’m not sure I can even lift a drink after the pushups.”

“Y’all only have yourselves to blame for that one.” You pointed out. “You should know better to make wagers you can’t win.”

“Could have warned us.” Payback grumbled.

“What makes you think she has any insight into Mav?” Bradley asked, his hackles rising at your defense. There’d been many times in the past people made assumptions about you and your career based on your last name and Bradley had never hesitated to set them straight either.

“Easy, Roo.” You soothed him, “I don’t think he means anything by it.” You looked at Payback who looked genuinely confused now, “My relationship with my father is complicated. I have his last name and DNA but we don’t exactly see eye to eye and until this morning I haven’t seen him face to face since high school.”

“Damn, Siri.” He replied, “I’m sorry. I definitely didn’t mean to bring up any sore subjects.”

“It’s fine.” You replied, offering him a smile. Then leveled Jake with a look, to head off what you knew was coming from him before he could get it out and cause issues, “I’ll just go on record right here and now though and inform you all that I am here because of my OWN merit… because I am damn good and what I do and I earned it. Nobody paved my way or gave me a pass. If anything, my last name threw up roadblocks that I had to get around.”

“I’ve flown with you and with others who have flown with you, Siri.” Phoenix said, “Nobody would dare say you’re here for anything other than your own skill. If they are stupid enough to say it, let them come find me, I’ll make sure to set them straight. As far as the Hard Deck goes… I’m in.”

You smiled warmly at her for steering the conversation back to the original question as well as defending you.

“I could go for a few rounds of pool and darts.” Jake said, for once playing it smart and keeping his mouth shut.

“I need a beer.” Javy agreed.

Bradley looked at you to see what you wanted to do. The two of you needed to get settled in the apartment and needed to talk about the day.

“Siri and I have to get settled in the apartment.” Bradley said, “We just dropped our stuff in there this morning before we had to report to training. We’ll take a rain check.”

“Lame.” Phoenix said, rolling her eyes, “Fine, but you’re coming out on Friday, no excuses.”

“Deal.” You promised her, smiling.

You and Bradley headed to the Bronco, tossing your bags into the back. He opened the passenger door for you, but before you could get in, he pulled you into his arms. You wrapped your own arms around him, turning your head and moving up onto tiptoes to kiss his neck where he still had a scar from a car accident he’d gotten into your sophomore year of college. He dipped his head and caught your lips in a quick kiss.

“Love you.” He said, resting his head against yours.

“Love you too, Roo.” You replied.

He helped you into the Bronco, stealing another kiss before heading around to the driver’s side. Neither of you noticed your dad standing across the parking lot watching the pair of you with haunted eyes.

Before heading to your temporary apartment, the two of you made your way to the Target just off base. You stocked up on all of the supplies and food you knew you’d need for the rest of the week. You’d have more time over the weekend to go shopping for more food. Deciding neither of you wanted to cook, you took advantage of being back on the West Coast and went through In and Out to grab burgers on your way back to the apartment.

After unloading everything and pausing to eat, you set to work unpacking and getting the apartment liveable. It came furnished, but you put your own sheets and bedding on the bed and you always made sure to do a quick cleaning and airing out of base housing when you moved in anywhere.

Once you were satisfied with everything, you and Bradley settled in on the couch together. Neither even bothered to turn on the TV, knowing you wouldn’t be watching anything.

You were cuddled against him, tucked into his arms, your head cradled on his chest as the two of you laid on the couch, legs entwined. It felt good to just relax with him after the stressful day, and in this position, you knew it would be easier for him to talk to you.

“When he came out of nowhere today, being all smug that he’d been there the whole time, it just set something off in me.” He said quietly, “I felt a fire in my gut and I was so angry all over again… it was like we were 18 again and no time had passed.”

“I understand that.” You assured him, “I was filled with so many mixed up emotions today I don’t even know where to start in sorting them all out. What made you decide to lead him below the hard deck though?”

“Siri, I don’t think that was a conscious decision on my part… I had no plan there.” He admitted, “I was acting on instinct, I just needed to buy time to get into a better position.”

“Well it worked…” You said, tipping your head to look up at him and smile softly, “A little risky… a lot unorthodox… probably something that could get you in a lot of trouble if you make it a habit, but it was effective…or would have been. What stopped you from taking the shot, Roo?”

“I got in my head.” He said, his voice raspy from emotion, “I heard his voice in my head telling me I wasn’t ready and that I wasn’t good enough. I hesitated and by the time I could shake his voice and hear yours again, when I could breathe again, it was too late. He had the drop on us again and we were in missile lock. Siri, I put you at risk today… fuck, if we’d been in a real dogfight…”

“Roo…” You replied, tears stinging your eyes, your throat felt tight. You moved your hand up to run your fingers around to his neck, tugging gently until he was looking at you. You lifted your own face, softly kissing him, before pulling back, “You are good enough, Bradley Nicholas Bradshaw. You’re a badass aviator and my father was wrong. He was so fucking wrong. You are here because you belong here, Roo. The Navy believes in you or you wouldn’t be here. More importantly, I believe in you and I trust you. There is literally nobody else I’d rather fly with. Today was rough, but it’s over. Tomorrow is a new day and we are going to kick ass.”

“What if I can’t get past it, Baby?” He asked, “What if I can’t get his damn voice out of my head and focus on this mission/”

“I’ll just make sure my voice is louder.” You replied, “Anytime you need to be reminded how amazing you are and how much you deserve to be here, I will happily be the voice in your head reminding you. I will remind you how much I love you… and how much Mav’s opinion does NOT matter.”

“I love you so much.” He said, pulling you up further so he could kiss you, “Your voice is the only one that matters to me… your opinion means more than anyone else’s ever could. I don’t want to let you down… and I never want to put you in danger.”

“Bradley, no matter what happens here, regardless if we fly this mission or not, you will not have let me down.” You promised him vehemently. “I’ve known you damn near my whole life and have loved you damn near my whole life. I KNOW you, Roo. Everything you do, you do with your whole heart and soul. I know that you and I make a kick ass team and together there is very little we can’t do. If we aren’t chosen for this mission it won’t be because we didn’t give it 100%. As for putting me in danger? Roo, I was fully aware what I was getting into when I signed on the line to join the Navy and applied to flight school. I knew the risks. The risks for me as a WSO would be the same no matter who I flew with, but there is nobody I trust more than you. Got it?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He chuckled softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“Good,” You smiled, “Now, let’s go to bed because I’m absolutely exhausted and I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be more of the same. And I swear on everything, if any of those assholes even think of making any more cocky ass bets with Mav, I will choke them out!”

“I’ll hold them down for you.” He promised, laughing “I have a feeling Phoenix would help too.”

“Oh, I know she would!” You agreed, “I think even Bob would join in on that cause, and he seems to be very level headed!”

“I dunno, Baby.” He smirked, “It’s usually the quiet ones you have to watch out for.

A/N: Thoughts? This is going to have a few more parts than originally planned but I'm loving writing it and it's taking on a mind of its own!

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