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[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 15 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You want a field trip to North Island for your class, and Bradley is determined to deliver. He loves how you decide to show him some gratitude. He'd love it even more if you stayed and never left.

Warnings: Fluff, language, unprotected sex, oral sex, smut, Bradley in love, 18+

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley's alarm really pissed him off on Thursday morning. First of all, it went off an hour earlier than it usually did. And second, he had been sound asleep with your body tucked right up against him and his fingers laced with yours. When you began to stir as well, he kissed your ear and started to pull away from you. 

"I'm sorry, Baby," he murmured, voice laced with sleep and something intimate that he never remembered treating anyone else to. "Go back to sleep."

You rolled over so you were facing him, and your lips found his immediately. You kissed him softly as your fingers pulled through his hair, and he wanted more than anything to stay here with you all day. "I can't go back to sleep," you whispered. "Not when I get to spend a few extra minutes with you."

In the very short time you and he had been officially in a relationship, he had let himself indulge in the idea that you'd be around forever. That you wouldn't change your mind about him. That you'd love him and let him love you back, like equal partners. And right now all he wanted to do was keep holding you while he also couldn't wait to get to work and try to start sweet talking his superior officers.

"I can't be late today, Gorgeous. Not if I'm going to try my best to make a field trip for your class happen."

Your eyes lit up and you squeaked softly. "You're right. Get the fuck out of here."

He laughed and then groaned. "It shouldn't be sexy when you have a potty mouth." He gave you one long kiss before finally pulling away so he could get ready for work.

"I'll make you breakfast," you whispered, climbing out of bed completely naked before reaching for his discarded sweatshirt on the floor. It was yours now in his mind, and he couldn't wait until it and you were both permanent fixtures in his bedroom. That was going to have to wait a bit though unless you brought it up first. He'd already dropped the idea that he wanted to marry you in front of your class.

"You don't need to make me anything," he said as he started to pull on his clean flight suit, but you were already walking out of the room. 

Bradley finished getting ready as quickly as he could in your tiny bathroom, and when he made his way to your equally miniscule kitchen with his overnight bag, you were spreading cream cheese on a bagel and filling a purple travel mug that said #1 Teacher with coffee. "I'll see you tomorrow night?" he asked before taking a bite out of the bagel when you held it up for him.

"I mean... yes, I'll come right to your house from work tomorrow, but you'll see me before that." When he raised an eyebrow while he chewed, you shrugged and added, "I was planning on sending you a dirty picture while I get dressed."

Now both of his eyebrows were raised. "Yeah? How dirty we talking?"

All you said in response was, "I trust you to keep my job intact," before you kissed him and ushered him toward your door with his breakfast. "Go to work, and you'll find out soon. I love you."

"I love you, too, Gorgeous."

He would never get enough of your pretty face. He thought about it while he fought traffic going into San Diego and while crossing the bay bridge toward North Island. This drive sucked, but he'd do it every morning if it meant he got to spend the night in your bed with you. He also wanted to ask you to sleep over at his place during the week so you could test out traffic heading north.

When he finally parked on base, he didn't have to imagine your face any longer. He got to look at it in the picture you sent him twenty minutes ago. Along with your tits. Exchanging photos had always been a huge part of getting to know you while he was deployed, and he was delighted to find that the tradition continued.

"Oh my god," he groaned, needing to sit in his Bronco for a few extra minutes while he enjoyed the photo before ultimately saving it to his phone. Then he texted you back with a smirk before heading to the locker room.

Damn, Gorgeous. What I wouldn't give to spend a week in bed with that face and those tits.

Of course a honeymoon would be the perfect opportunity for that sort of thing. He dropped his bag off in his locker and made his way out to the hangar, running his hand over his face as he tried to push that thought to the back of his mind. As soon as he spotted Maverick, he made a beeline in his direction.

"Rooster," he greeted, barely glancing up from the clipboard he was holding. Bradley knew it was such a longshot, but he had to just go for it at this point.

"Hey, Mav, you have a minute?"He glanced up over his aviators and said, "Always. What can I do for you?" Bradley cleared his throat and tried to make sure he sounded as relaxed as possible. "

I was wondering if a fourth grade class could visit base for a field trip one day? Do a tour of the hangars and the tarmac? Maybe sit in a cockpit? Just an educational trip for some kids who are studying aviation."

There was a brief pause before Maverick asked, "Are you sleeping with a teacher?"

Bradley groaned, head tipped back as he rubbed his eyes and tried not to laugh. "Yeah. She's my girlfriend though, so it's a bit more involved than that."

Maverick sighed. "If I give you special permission for this, then everyone is going to want me to do the same for them. You know that." Bradley started nodding in defeat when Maverick took his sunglasses off and asked, "How many kids are we talking?"

"Eighteen," he replied immediately, straightening his back like he was standing at attention.

"Which school?"

"Mira Mesa Elementary."

Maverick pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let me see what I can do. Now get your helmet on and get to work."

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

You were finishing your lunch at your desk, about to send Bradley a text, when your phone rang in your hand. He was calling you in the middle of the day which was definitely odd.

"Bradley."

"Hey, Gorgeous," came his voice along with a ton of background noise. "Any chance you can bring your class for a field trip next week?"

Surely you misheard.

"Next week? You already got it approved?"

"Yeah." The deep, raspy rumble of his voice made you shiver. "Next Thursday work for you?"

You were on your feet, doing a little dance as you said, "You got it approved! I'll make it work. I'll type up permission slips right now. I'll call everyone's legal guardian tonight if I have to. We'll be there!"

"Perfect. Email me your complete class list so I can get visitor badges printed."

"Okay," you told him, glancing around like you didn't know where to start. "Right."

"I love you, Baby. Talk later."

He ended the call without another word, and you tucked your phone away before running a lap around your classroom. You wanted to go gloat to all of the other fourth grade teachers, but you wouldn't. You were absolutely certain that this only worked out because you were in a relationship with Bradley, so instead you got to work on the permission slips.

By Friday afternoon, your kids were beyond excited about their upcoming trip to North Island. You had secured eighteen permission slips, three chaperones and a school bus to take everyone down to Coronado next week. But today, you'd be driving there yourself to see Bradley. The traffic after work didn't even bother you as you drove to his house with both your overnight bag and your work bag. You had some quizzes to grade, but he promised you he didn't mind if you brought them along.

When you parked in front of his house, you grabbed your things and ran up to the front door which swung open before you could even knock.

"I just got home," he said with a laugh in his sexy khaki uniform and boots. "I was thinking about giving you a key in case you beat me here one of these days. Oh, shit."

You set your bags down just inside his front door and then had your hands tugging down his pants zipper before you leaned up to kiss him. As you pulled his cock free, you whispered, "I just wanted to thank you again."

You bunched Bradley's shirt up around his abs and dropped to your knees while the front door was still open, and he grunted before quickly closing it. "You don't have to thank me," he rasped as you kissed his cock, and he started to grow hard.

As you ran your nose along his length, you glanced up at him and asked, "You don't want me to give you a blowjob?"

His pupils were wide as he shook his head. "Could you imagine a world in which I didn't want you to give me a blowjob? Because I definitely couldn't."

You laughed and parted your lips. "Then let me say thank you, Lieutenant Bradshaw."

His big hand settled on the back of your head, giving you an eager push, and you took him deep as he groaned, "It's my pleasure, Baby. In so many ways."

He was velvety soft and warm, fully hard now, and you gagged as he bottomed out. You let your tongue glide slowly along his length until you pulled him free, saliva already dripping down to his balls. Then you took a deep breath and let him push you again, bobbing your head as your eyes watered. His balls were heavy in your hand, and your mouth watered more as you thought about tasting him.

When you looked up at his handsome face with your mouth full of his cock, he stroked your cheek with his free hand. "So gorgeous. So perfect." He was flushed pink, and you vaguely thought for a second about how funny it would be if Vanessa showed up right now to see this happening.

You let your hands settle on his hips, and you bobbed your head until he was tapping the back of your throat again. Bradley's sharp gasp just made you go harder, and his fingers digging gently into your hair made you go faster. "Fuck," he whispered, eyes glued on your lips as you let him pop free. You licked a swirl around his tip before going deep and sucking until your cheeks were hollow, and you could feel him throbbing with need.

"I'm really close," he crooned as you squeezed his hip. You listened to him panting as you stroked his balls with your thumb, and then you sputtered when he came. You swallowed him down as you wrapped your fingers around his base and jerked him off until he had his hand braced on the wall for support. Every drop of his cum was swallowed down, and you kissed his cock when he was finished.

"Come here," he whispered, reaching for you before doing anything else, and as you stood, he scooped you into his arms. His lips collided with yours, and you sighed as he tasted himself in your mouth. "That was hot."

Bradley's nose bumped yours as he kissed you harder and started to walk you further into his house. "We could always do it again later," you whispered with a laugh as you ran your fingers along the sheen of sweat along his hairline.

"I have other plans for you for later," he promised, voice deep and dark.

"Tell me," you whispered, but he shook his head.

"You'll find out after I cook dinner."

"Can I have a hint?"

He glanced to the side and nodded as you walked through the living room with him. "Another couch date. Kind of."

"I love couch dates."

"I love you."

Bradley made you a grilled cheese sandwich, and he made two for himself, and you stood in his kitchen with him while you ate and sipped a beer. He didn't even bother to finish zipping up his khakis after tucking himself away, and he kept you in his grasp as he told you all about what he wanted to share with your class during the field trip.

"I can take them on a tour of the hangar," he murmured, kissing your cheek. "Let them listen in on air traffic control. Do you think they'd want to sit in my cockpit?"

"Bradley," you said with a laugh. "Of course they would want to! I want to!"

"Yeah?" he asked, running his mustache along your neck. "Maybe you can sit on my lap in my cockpit? I could show you my throttle."

Your face felt warm as you whispered, "You'll get me a lifetime ban from North Island."

"Can't have that," he said solemnly, shaking his head. "When you're on summer break, I'm going to want you to come visit me at work all the time."

Butterflies erupted in your belly as you pictured yourself in six months. Visiting him at work would be incredible. You could stop by with a coffee like he had done for you, and maybe you could take one for Natasha as well. But you were also thinking about how he casually announced to your class that he intended to marry you in the not so distant future.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and felt the front of his unzipped pants through the fabric of your shirt. "I'm not driving back and forth to Coronado every day during my break, Bradley."

He smiled at you and said, "Understood. You can just spend the night as much as you want. I'm right by the beach, so you can sunbathe all day until I'm done working, and then I'll take you out to Salvatore's or cook dinner for you."

"Or we can just hang out on the couch," you whispered, your lips brushing his.

"Speaking of the couch..."

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

"Harder."

Your voice filled the living room along with your little grunts and moans as Bradley held your hips in place. You were bent over the arm of the couch with your ass up in the air, fingers digging into the cushions while he fucked you. For as sweet as you were, he loved you like this just as much. Loud and needy for him.

The sound of his body slapping against yours was already obscene, but if you wanted it harder, he'd let you have it. He was yours in every sense of the word, and he would make sure you knew it. "Does that feel good?" he crooned, watching your pussy grip his cock. "It looks fantastic," he grunted.

Your response was unintelligible but enthusiastic, so he kept going until he was close and your legs were shaking. The blowjob you gave him earlier seemed to take the edge off, because as soon as he started rubbing soft circles on your clit, you came for him, but he wasn't quite there yet. He slowed his pace down, let himself enjoy the feel of you shaking and squeezing him. He could have probably gone longer, but then you turned and looked up at him over your shoulder.

"That was so good," you said with a shaky voice, "I saw stars."

"Oh hell." He came inside you as you chewed on your lip and looked at him like you'd never get enough. "Come here." You stood with your back pressed against him while he was still buried deep. "You want to snuggle?"

"Always," you whispered as he peppered kisses to your shoulder. And then the two of you ended up on the couch, and it was sweet again as you curled up mostly on top of him while he drew shapes on your palm.

And that's how the whole weekend was. On Saturday, the two of you spent a few windswept hours on the beach, wrapped in a blanket together, talking and laughing. But after the sun set and the sky turned that pretty pretty color that looked both blue and orange at the same time, your lips found his.

"Gorgeous," he groaned, hands on your thighs, feeling your warmth through your jeans.

"I love you," came your immediate response, and Bradley could barely contain himself. He wanted everything with you, but he was afraid of moving any faster than this already pretty blistering pace. But even thinking about the nights this week when he'd have to fall asleep without you and wake up alone were creeping into the back of his mind.

He pressed his forehead to yours and whispered, "I love you too, Gorgeous. And I'm just going to say this one time, and then I'll let you bring it up again if you feel like it."When he paused, you said, "Okay," in a soft voice, and he took a deep breath.

"If we ever reach a point where you think you want to move in with me, that would make me very happy. You already have a key now, but if you want it to be even more permanent, I would love that."

"Oh," you gasped, and he suddenly wished he hadn't said anything about it. "My lease ends in January."

"January," he repeated, like it was a word he was unfamiliar with.

"Mmhmm. In about two months." You kissed his cheek and wrapped his hand up in yours. "That seems reasonable, don't you think?"

Bradley let you push his shoulder playfully until he was laying on his back, and then you were in his arms just like you were on the first date. "Yeah, that seems reasonable," he whispered as the sound of your soft laughter mingled with the crashing waves.

"At least give me a chance to test out the commute to work," you said with a kiss.

"I'm not in a hurry, Gorgeous. I'm just in love."

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

You didn't get home from Bradley's house on Sunday night until almost eleven, but you couldn't bring yourself to complain about it. He helped you grade your quizzes, and he read over your lesson plans like it was a bestselling novel. Then he made you a snack after dinner and went over the plans for the field trip.

"I'll take care of everything this week," he had promised. "I'll get visitor's badges for everyone, and you'll just need to go through the security checkpoints when you arrive. Your kids will have a blast. Just wait until they get to watch Marty work on an engine rebuild."

"The kids are going to lose their minds when they see your Super Hornet," you had promised. "And I will, too. I was already falling for you when you sent me the cockpit photos, and now I'm head over heels."

After that, Bradley carefully folded up your lesson plans and put them in your bag while you tried to hide your smile. And that's why you got home so late. Because the two of you couldn't keep your hands off each other for more than a minute.

But it made for a long Monday. And your Tuesday wasn't much better. By Wednesday, even the phone calls and texts with Bradley were barely enough to keep you going. You hated thinking about his next deployment, but it was always at the back of your mind. He wanted you to move in with him, but even his beautiful house in Coronado wouldn't save you from feeling devastatingly lonely the next time he was on an aircraft carrier. Nothing would.

He told you he wanted to drive up and spend the night with you on Wednesday, but he was yawning nonstop over the phone, and you knew he would have to get up earlier if he came up to your apartment. "You sound as exhausted as I feel, and I'm going to see you in the morning anyway," you told him as you curled up in your bed." Actually all nineteen of us are going to see you in the morning."

"I love my pen pals," he said with a laugh. Then he repeated your words from so many weeks ago. "Do you still want me to kiss you as soon as I see you?"

"Bradley," you moaned, rolling onto your side. You were melting, and he wasn't even here. "I always want that."

"Good, because I don't think I could... Oh shit!" he shouted, and it sounded like he dropped his phone.

"What's wrong?" you asked, jolting up in your bed. "Bradley?"

"No, no, no," came his voice, but you could tell he wasn't right next to his phone speaker. He actually sounded scared, but you couldn't fathom what could possibly be going on, and then he said, "There's a fucking spider on my bedroom wall!"

"Oh," you replied, letting out the breath you'd been holding.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do?! Why aren't you here?!"

"Bradley, just squish it with some paper towels," you told him, trying not to laugh at his panicked voice.

"You want me to take my eyes off this fucking thing to go to the kitchen? I don't think so!"

You pressed your lips together and composed yourself before asking, "How big is it?"

"It's huge! The size of a quarter!" he shouted. "It's moving!"

"Bradley, pick up one of your boots or a shoe and smash it," you told him as calmly as you could. "You can do this."

"Okay. Okay, right. Yeah," he said, and his voice sounded even more distant. "I can do this." There was a terribly loud thump, and then he said, "I hate this so much."

"Is it dead?" you asked cautiously.

"Yeah, but I'm too scared to sleep in here now. What if its family shows up for revenge in the middle of the night?"

You snorted and collapsed back onto your pillow. "That seems a little dramatic."

"Does it?" he asked. "Because this is something you should be taking care of for me. I'll take care of anything else, but this one thing is on you, Baby."

You started to pull your shirt off as you asked, "Would you feel better if I sent you another dirty photo?"

"I would feel a lot better if you sent me a dirty photo," he said, and now you could tell he was smiling.

"Hmm... you think you'll be able to get some sleep if I do?" you asked, tossing your shirt aside.

"A full eight hours."

You held your phone up, smiled sweetly, and snapped a picture. "Let me know when you get it," you said as you texted it to him.

A few seconds later, you giggled as he groaned. "Got it. You look like perfection, and I love adding these to my top secret folder," he muttered. "Thank you."

Now you were yawning as you pulled your sheet up to your chin. "You're welcome. I'll see you in ten hours. I love you."

"Love you, Baby."

-------------------------- You thought you were prepared for the field trip to North Island. You had bus snacks, and responsible chaperones. You had copies of all of the required paperwork that the Navy insisted you fill out ahead of time in a folder. You even had a list of all of your kids for the guard station officer which Bradley reminded you to bring. But nothing could have actually prepared you for the excitement that all nineteen of you clearly felt when the school bus pulled up to the gates with the airstrip directly in front of you.

"Whoa!" said Jayden, trying to hang out the window for a better view. "There's a jet taking off!"

All of your kids scrambled to the right side of the bus to get a better look, and you did too. The aftermath of the takeoff was loud, and you signaled for everyone to cover their ears as they all watched the aircraft soar into the sun.

"Do you think that was Lieutenant Bradshaw?" Nia asked excitedly as your heart raced.

"No," you replied as you watched the jet fly off into the distance. "He said he would meet us after we parked in the visitors lot." When the bus started moving up to the guards, you waved your hand for everyone to sit down again. "But if you're all really well behaved, I'm sure there will be some surprises for us today!"

When it was your turn to talk to the guards, you climbed out of the bus and handed over all of your paperwork. They double and triple checked everything. As they looked at your school ID and driver's license, one of them said, "This location requires top clearances. We hardly ever see field trip groups. Someone on base must really like you."

You thought about Bradley and his kisses and his couch and how he wanted you there to share his bed and always take care of the spiders. "Yeah, that's pretty accurate," you told him with a smile, and he handed you a bundle of lanyards. Hanging from each one was a visitor's pass for each of your students as well as four for you and the chaperones. "Thank you."

Even as you handed each kid their pass and told them they needed to wear them at all times, your heart raced in anticipation. They were all looking back at you with wide-eyed excitement; these were the faces of kids who had learned a lot in your classroom already this year. They were as eager to learn more about aviation today as they were months ago, and you were so happy that Bradley had been a big part of this whole experience.

As the bus driver parked, you saw your boyfriend through the window, standing tall next to the building. He was in his flight suit, and his back was ramrod straight. There were two other officers with him, and they had even more pins on their uniforms than you remembered seeing on his. You needed to reel in your expectations, especially in front of the men who you assumed were Bradley's bosses. But when you smiled, Bradley smiled back. And when you led your students down the steps and over to the sidewalk, his posture relaxed.

"Welcome to North Island," he told your kids with a grin. Then he looped one arm around your waist, pulled you close, and kissed you in front of everyone. "I can't wait to show you everything."

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

The field trip of my dreams! Okay, so we are definitely going to see Marty at work, but what else should the kids get to experience? Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 16

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[sometimesanalice]

A prompt party, Alexa? How in the world did I miss that? I'd be over the moon if you could write a little something for Bradley + "i’m gonna marry you one day." 🪩 ✨

Rebecca! Now you know I’m always down to write a little something for a smitten Bradley! I hope you enjoy!

It was a surprisingly quiet night at the Hard Deck.

You could actually hear the music playing out of Penny's old juke box, rather than just the faint essence of notes for whatever oldie was queued up over the usual rowdy ruckus. And there were more empty chairs scattered about than there were taken ones.

It was one of the rare rainy days they got in San Diego. The gray skies and drizzle driving even the best of Uncle Sam's finest under blankets and curled up on couches.

Bradley always liked the moody weather. He liked the way the clouds seemed to cling to the coastline. He liked the rough rolling waves as they broke against the shore with more force than they usually did.

But he wasn't look out the bank of windows out towards the beach, in fact, he had his back turned to it.

Because he was looking at you.

Bradley had been trying to ask you out for the better part of two months now. And he was starting to think that you were giving him the runaround.

He'd learned that first evening that you were only filling in as a favor to Penny- she and your mom went way back as sorority sisters- for a few months as Jimmy recovered from his knee replacement surgery.

Under normal circumstances, he’d take the hint and move on. And even if his mom hadn’t raised him right- which she had- Rooster knew that just because someone was nice didn’t mean they were interested. Especially when it was their job.

But he couldn’t kick the feeling that there was something there.

All he needed was one date to prove it.

It was more than the way you always seemed to catch him looking, because you were looking right back. Or the way you’d slip him a free drink every now and then, saying it was on the house. Or the way you found a way to brush past him a little too close whenever you'd swing by with more peanuts for Bob or a fresh round of drinks for his friends.

You were so damn smart and funny as hell. He’d taken to spending less time on his ESPN app and more time on the NYT trying to find interesting topics to get to spend a extra few minutes with you. Nothing felt better than earning a smile from you.

But any time he got close to asking you out or asking for your number, you were pulled away by something or another. The sound of broken glass. A pointed throat clearing from a thirsty patron. An emergency trip to the storage closet.

Rain was good luck in some places, and Bradley needed all the luck he could get. It hadn’t been on his side in the past two month, but tonight was his night. He was sure of it.

Especially considering he was the only person seated at the bar.

You'd been popping out and checking on people, delivering refills personally to the few people who had braved the elements instead of having them come up to the bar.

Rooster was patient, he didn't mind waiting his turn. After all, he had a shiny new NYT subscription to keep him company.

He smiles to himself when you work your way back to the bar, grabbing the bowl of limes and a cutting board, and setting up right in front of him. He watches as you deftly slice and quarter the limes into wedges, their bright scent clinging in the air.

“Why does it feel like I’ve seen less of you tonight than I do when this place is packed?” Bradley asks, saving the article he was midway through before closing out of the app completely.

“I’m just a one woman show here tonight, I told Penny to stay home." You're tidy and efficient in the way you store the prepped wedges and work to clean up the already immaculate bar. "It's means a bit more running around for me. But I don't mind, I like to keep busy."

"So I've noticed."

You look up at him from under your lashes, as you wipe down the prep space. "Have you been keeping tabs on me, Rooster?"

"Now I know you're teasing me." He sets his phone down and levels a look at you. "Because we both know you catch me looking often enough to know the answer to that."

You press your lips together, but the corners curl up anyways.

"Oh, Bradley," you say with a soft sigh. "Bradley, Bradley, Bradley..."

And then your eyes drop purposefully down.

The two of you stare at his phone sitting on the shiny bar top.

"You wouldn't," he rasps.

"I think I'm legally obligated to. There's a very official wood sign and everything." You look the picture of innocence, but you don't fool him.

"Sweetheart, c'mon."

"Are you asking me to bend the rules for you? Just because Penny isn't here?" You tsk, with a self-satisfied smile. "And here I thought you were a Boy Scout."

Bradley just shakes his head amused as you sashay up to the bell and give it a loud, long ring. A couple whoops go up in response, but no one gets up. Yet.

You walk back towards him with an all too pleased smile.

"I think you enjoyed that."

You smile wider and don't deny it. "I can't lie, it is a fun perk of the job."

He sighs. "And here I thought we had something special."

"Stop that, you're too pretty to pout," you tease. "You gave me no choice. I don't make the rules, I just follow them. And as much as I love Penny, I have a healthy dose of-"

"-fear-"

You smirk. "I was going to say respect. But also you're not wrong."

"And what about me?" he asks, sitting up straighter on his stool. "What are your impressions of me?"

"Oh you?" You tilt your head to the side, letting your gaze linger on his face as you muse. "You look like trouble."

"Do I now?"

"Mmhm. I thought it from the moment I saw you strut through that door." You say it like you're letting him in on a secret. "And there’s something you should probably know about me."

He leans in closer. "And what's that?"

You mirror him, leaning in as well and resting your elbows on the counter. Your face is just inches from his. “I’m really good at getting into trouble.”

He grins. “I’m gonna marry you one day.”

You tip your head back and laugh, it’s the best sound he thinks he’s ever heard. 

“That’s a bold statement from the man who still has yet to ask me out on a date.”

He opens his mouth, to do just that, after months of failed attempts. And then another one of the patrons saddles up to the bar, waving you down for your attention.

Rooster groans.

"Alas, it appears I have another gentleman caller," you sing, reaching for the towel and waving it like a handkerchief in his direction. "Guess I'll be seeing you around, Bradley. Maybe at the end of an aisle, who knows, the night is young."

The smile you give him promises that this conversation isn't over yet.

You spin away from him and don’t give him a second glance as you head over towards the thirsty man whose beer is going on his tab, but there’s a sway in your hips that wasn’t there before.

And Bradley thinks to himself, this is going to be fun. 

[mrsroosterbradshaw]

london girl <3

jake “hangman” seresin x british!fem wife

soundtrack: London Boy by Taylor Swift™️

summary: the team is shocked when jake slips up and confesses that he has a wife. little do they know that he is head-over-heels for his wife and he gushes at how much he loves your accent 🤭

“I love my hometown as much as Motown, I love SoCal and you know I love Springsteen, Faded blue jeans, Tennessee whiskey”

jake seresin wasn’t the type to get tied down. in his college days at UT it would be go to a bar, dance, get a girl, go home with them, then leave. he had quite the reputation when he got into the navy, too. cocky, didn’t care about anyone but himself. so, naturally, when the dagger squad was all at the hard deck playing pool and darts, they were shocked when hangman finally let it slip.

“phoenix, how is the boyfriend? finally scare him off yet?” bradley said, jokingly. jake let out an airy laugh.

“har har,” she said to bradley then turning to jake, “i wouldn’t be laughing, you’re the single, lonely one.”

“nope, got a woman i love at home.” he said, the look of realization on his face once he realized what he had said was priceless. the squad started laughing. no, not a short laugh, bradley is rolling on the ground crying.

“yeah right. good one bagman.” phoenix said.

he decided in that moment that it was time to come clean, after four years of being married and with a little girl on the way, he let it slip. “no i’m being dead ass.” jake said.

“no way. i don’t believe you.” phoenix said.

“believe me or not.” he said, throwing his hands up in defense. “but i do. we have been married for four years and we have a daughter on the way.” jake pulled out a folded picture from his front pocket of his khaki uniform and handed it to phoenix.

“no fucking way, you’re tied down?” phoenix said in disbelief.

“yep, i’ll bring her by sometime! well that’s my cue, said too much and don’t wanna be drinking and driving because i wanna get home to my mrs.” jake yelled as he walked out of the doors of the hard deck, determined to get to his pregnant wife.

“But something happened, I heard her laughing, I saw the dimples first and then I heard the accent. They say home is where the heart is, but that's not where mine lives”

“darling. i don’t think they will like me. i’m not like you guys.” you say, growing self conscious of your 7 month pregnant belly.

“sweets, they are going to love you! i promise. we have to leave in about 5 minutes!” he yells after he kisses you on the cheek and walks into the mud room.

“don’t forget to feed the animals! i’ll go out and feed the horses while you do the cows, sheep and the goats!” you yell from across the house.

“gotcha sweets!!” your lovely husband yelled from across the house at you.

(time skip to the hard deck)

“you go ahead to your friends, this pregnant lady has to pee for the twentieth time today.” you said, walking away laughing.

“be safe! we will be over by the pool tables!” jake yells as he walks towards the pool tables that all his friends are surrounding and talking.

“seresin, as i live and breathe!” bradley said, sarcastically.

“hey bradshaw!” jake said.

“where is your imaginary wife at? chicken out and not bring her? oh wait, she isn’t real!!” payback butt in and said.

“who’s not real?” you say as you waddled up to the group.

“hey sweets!” your husband drawls out with that accent you love. “we were just talking about you!”

“all good thing i hope!” you say.

“so, i guess you are real! sorry, we are all just a little surprised when bagman told us. how did you guys meet?” phoenix asked you.

“well i was at a flower festival in San Diego with my best mates and we went to a pub after that was near and jake here was there because he was stationed nearby.” you started.

“i was with javy grabbing a few beers after our training and i went up to the bar to get us another round, but something happened, I heard her laughing, I saw the dimples first and then I heard the accent. and i instantly fell in love. i knew i had to have her.” he said.

“oh don’t even! i knew i had to have you when i saw you and i heard your sexy accent.” you said, side-hugging him.

“aw you guys are so cute!” phoenix gushed.

“You know I love a London girl, I enjoy walking Camden Market in the afternoon. she likes my American smile, Like a child when our eyes meet, darling, I fancy you. Took me back to Highgate, met all of her best mates, So I guess all the rumors are true. You know I love a London girl. girl, I fancy you (ooh)”

“when we got married, for our honeymoon we went to London so i could show him around my home city! i took him to the Camden Market and he won’t admit it but he enjoys it.” you say.

“ okay okay, you caught me. i do like it.” jake admits.

“hey jake?” you say.

“yes sweets?” he replied.

“i need a break.” you told your husband.

“okay i got you, baby.” jake said, he went behind you as you kept talking with the group and lifted up your baby bump. you let out a sigh of relief.

“thank you.” you say, breathless.

“okay!” phoenix exclaimed, “Jake is a real softy! i’m jealous because you are both so madly in love and i wish i had that with Marcus.”

“oh i bet Marcus loves you a lot!” you say, trying to convince her.

“oh no, not like how jake loves you. even the way he looks at you! i’m jealous!!” she says.

“he does not look at me in any way!” you told her. “right jake?” you say, craning your neck to look at your lover behind you.

“huh?” he says, snapping out of his daze.

“see? my point exactly!” phoenix points out.

“oh shut up jake.” you say, laughing and walking away with phoenix.

“what did i do?” jake asked himself, quietly. “what did i say?” he asked coyote, who was right next to him to witness it all.

coyote put his hands up in defense. “nope, that’s on you.” coyote then walked away towards you, chuckling.

“NO SERIOUSLY!” jake yelled across the bar.

[gretagerwigsmuse]

(christmas) baby please come home

summary: in which lieutenant commander bradshaw and his girlfriend throw a christmas party, complete with a christmas tree, copious amounts of champagne, blended friend groups, and the true meaning of the word home

OR what do you do when your boyfriend gets deployed over christmas and he gets you two christmas presents?

pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader 11.8k

warnings: 18+, explicit language, explicit sexual content

part of @notroosterbradshaw ‘s hello december challenge

masterlist and playlist

It was obvious that you knew how to throw a party. 

Furthermore, it was obvious that none of your and Bradley’s friends - baring Max, but only because he had professional help - would ever be able to pull off a party of the same caliber as your Christmas party. 

Subconsciously, you wanted your friends to be jealous of you and impressed with how well you and Bradley had pulled things off. It was, admittedly, such a vain and shallow thought - no, desire to want to be the best at this. At throwing parties.

The Charlie Brown Christmas soundtrack was currently echoing throughout the downstairs on the Sonos, the twinkling jazz giving off a whimsical, yet sophisticated vibe, the Christmas tree looked stunning in the living room where it was covered in nearly three thousand white lights and countless ornaments, and the food that you and Bradley - but mainly Bradley - had spent all morning and last night preparing was laid out on festive serving dishes, complete with seasonally appropriate plates and napkins, perfectly folded in their napkin rings. 

You had scoured San Diego county for the most gorgeous garland possible to serve as the centerpiece on the dining room table, the berries and pine cones in it perfectly matching the plates and napkins and serving dishes. You had vacuumed the hardwood floor twice and washed it once before everyone came over and knew you would do so again once everyone left, if only so you could casually say it’s fine, you can keep your shoes on, we’re washing the floor tomorrow anyway. The candles weren’t overpowering, there was soft lighting all throughout the house, and you’d somehow wrangled a recipe for the cookies Bradley’s mom used to make from Sarah Kazansky and hadn't even burnt them.  

Because you wanted people to talk about it - the party. And to say did you see their bathroom? It was so clean, there weren’t any water spots on the faucet. The beef tenderloin appetizers were delicious, they had to have gotten the meat someplace special? No, definitely not Vons, maybe some local butcher in La Jolla? Aren’t they such a sweet couple? Such a good pair.

Because it had to be perfect. 

All of it.

Because this was Bradley’s Christmas. His only Christmas that year. Nothing could go amiss. And you wanted everyone to be jealous of it, so much so that tonight would be equal to if not better than how they celebrated the actual holiday with their own families - in their own homes - on Christmas Day. 

Because they weren’t going to be spending the holiday on a drafty aircraft carrier in the middle of the Pacific far from home like Bradley was. 

And Bradley deserved the entire world and all the happiness he could possibly have. The way his face had lit up when you’d first suggested the party after he’d gotten his orders at the beginning of November would stick with you for months. You’d told him that everything would be perfect, that you would pack enough Christmas spirit and love and gifts and food into one evening that it would take the sting out of being away from home - being away from you - at Christmas. Even if for just one night.

The guests had all arrived, some promptly and some not-so-promptly, with you and Bradley greeting them all, telling them to help themselves to all the food and drinks they wanted. Apparently, Max had a surprise for later that you prayed was not him putting on a Santa suit. But the conversation and drinks were flowing with ease, despite the blending of your two friend groups for the first time. 

It was a good party. 

Except right now, it was your turn to be the jealous one.

You watched, enviously, as one of your work friends leaned against the kitchen island with a glass of prosecco in her hand, while the other gripped Jake Seresin’s bicep. The jealousy wasn’t because of Jake or any attention he may have been giving her, mind you. 

(Because no, no - while you may no longer have had an intense hatred for Bradley’s nemesis cum friend, you still didn’t actively seek out his presence and you definitely didn’t want his attention - not for anything other than a great party as he left your - no, Bradley’s house later that night.)

No - you were jealous of her dress. Her gorgeous, deep garnet, midi-length, sleeveless dress. That looked absolutely stunning on her, though a touch too fancy for a Christmas party in South Park. She looked gorgeous, beautiful - statuesque. 

You absentmindedly fixed the bow on your wrap dress. Your long sleeved, silk wrap dress - that also did plenty to hide any unwanted lines or bumps around your stomach. And your arms. 

Weeks ago, back when the party was but a pipe dream, you’d been eyeing this absolutely adorable, sleeveless, mini-dress for the event. Like your friend’s dress, it probably erred on the side of slightly too fancy for a house party, but it had been so pretty and so perfect. It had sat in your cart online for at least two weeks - you just wanted to see if it would go on sale before you finally pulled the trigger. 

Until Thanksgiving. 

When you saw how unflattering your arms looked in the black cashmere tank you’d brought for dinner to your parents’ house. You thanked your past self for having the forethought to pack a cardigan, which didn’t come off until hours later after all your aunts and uncles and cousins had left and you were snuggled up in Bradley’s arms. 

Maybe you should try the HIIT classes on your Peloton instead of all those beginner rides you were still doing with Cody? Or get arm weights? The girls who worked out in the front two rows of your pilates class swore by them. They barely needed any input from the instructor - they just knew how to move their bodies that way. Or maybe you could ask your parents for a higher Class Pass subscription for Christmas? It would give you something to focus on while Bradley was gone. 

You hadn’t been this self conscious at the gala back in October and that dress was far more daring than anything you’d ever worn before; practically open back, with a risqué slit and a deep v neckline, to say nothing of what you had worn just for Bradley later that night. 

So, why now? Why tonight when you were supposed to be enjoying this time with your boyfriend and all your friends before the holidays? Why tonight, when everything else was going so right, were you being bogged down by this insecurity in your own home - no, no, it was Bradley’s home, not yours.

Was it because he was leaving? And you didn’t want one of his last images of you for three months to be your arms in a too tight dress? Because that was so shallow and silly and ridiculous. 

But what if it was true? Bradley was so pretty and handsome and charming and sweet, what if there was someone else on that boat that also thought he was pretty and handsome and charming and sweet? And you’d seen all the other aviators and naval personnel at that gala, they were stunning. What if Bradley thought that too - no, no, no. You weren’t going to focus on that for one of your last nights with him. 

Bradley loved you, Bradley proved how much he loved you every single day, Bradley catered to your every whim about this party with the biggest smile on his face. 

Bradley loved you. 

You were just being ridiculous and shallow and over dramatic and spiraling before he left. Bradley loved you, Bradley loved you. He loved you. He - was wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“How’s it going?” His voice rumbled in your ear and you leaned back against him. 

God, he was so strong and soft and warm and smelled so pretty all the time. You were going to miss him so much. You felt him fiddle with the bow tying your burgundy dress together and ducked your head. 

“Good, just came to get a drink.” Which you had been doing - about three minutes ago. “And wanted to make sure everyone in here was all set.”

Bradley hummed and swayed you back and forth in his arms. “Look at you, hostess with the mostess - or however that goes. You want me to make you another drink?”

You nodded. “Please.”

You both had decided to set up the bar in the kitchen, while keeping the food in the dining room and the dessert in the sitting room for later. Hours ago, before you had even hopped in the shower, the bar had been painstakingly set up and organized. Now, it needed some work. You cursed yourself for not checking on it earlier in the evening - you couldn’t believe your guests had been serving themselves from this all night. 

The glasses were no longer in neat rows, organized by type, the bowl with the limes was running dangerously low, and the caps to the liquor bottles and the champagne corks were scattered across the table. Without a second thought, you started organizing everything before Bradley could even get you a fresh glass. 

You could tell he wanted to say something, but - at least for that moment - he just rubbed your back and then poured you another glass of champagne, making sure to put the bottle back properly. Meanwhile, you scooped up the stray corks and foil and other bottle caps and threw them in the garbage underneath the sink. You had enough time, maybe you could pop those dirty wine glasses in the empty dishwasher? Wait - there was a puddle of condensation underneath an open bottle of champagne. You frowned. Clearly, someone hadn’t put it back in the bucket. Who would do that? Didn’t they know to put it back exactly where -  

“- You good?” 

Bradley’s voice was so soft and reassuring and you couldn’t believe you’d soon be going without hearing it for months. Unable to wait another second, you wrapped your arms around him in a hug, which he eagerly returned and you nuzzled his chest. Bradley’s shirt for the party was an exceptionally soft flannel in a solid navy color that you’d found on sale. He hated buying himself clothes, even more so spending a lot of money on them, but he always liked whatever you picked out for him. 

Maybe you could buy him some new clothes while he was gone? By now, you knew what he liked and didn’t like - right down to the colors and fabric types. He needed some new undershirts - and socks. You nuzzled your face into his chest. He felt so warm and soft and smelled so good. You had to buy a travel sized bottle of his cologne before he left. 

“You sure you’re okay, kid?” he asked again. 

“Just a little overwhelmed - and kinda tired.” You pulled your head back to look at him, but the two of you still kept your arms around the other. 

“Well,” Bradley started, “to be fair, you did do like all the work for this party, think it’s valid to be a little tired, sweetheart.”

“What? No?” You were offended on his behalf. “Bubs, you made all the food and -”

“- Yeah, but you helped with the food and did all the work getting the house ready.”

You cocked your head, considering this. “I mean, I did. Didn’t I?” Bradley chuckled. “Okay, fine - I’m tired. But it’s a good tired, I think?”

“A good tired, huh?” His thumbs were making the most soothing circles on your hips.

“Like a heart full tired? A changing for dinner after a spending a day at the beach tired - no, wait. A post gala eating french fries in bed and watching Moonstruck tired?” An after you fucked me so hard I could barely remember my own name tired. 

“You should’ve just led with that last one.” He kissed your temple and ran his hands up and down the silk fabric covering your arms. “Would’ve known exactly what you were talking about then.”

You lightly shoved his chest and then pulled him back in for a hug. “I’m also gonna miss you a lot…”

That was the crux of it. You were going to miss him so much you thought your heart was going to burst. And enjoying all the Christmas festivities tonight - on the second Saturday in December - made it all the more apparent that Bradley wasn’t going to be with you over the holidays. He wouldn’t be with you again until March. 

You two had gotten through plenty of training missions, short diplomatic visits, and off-sites - on your end - over the last eight months. But this was Bradley’s first, real deployment. 

God, if only Emily Simpson could see you now. You and Bradley had both been so cocky, so confident back in October at the gala about how effortlessly you handled the time spent apart. But you hadn’t been staring down a three month long deployment back then. 

Three months was a long time. Six pay cycles, at least twelve trips to the grocery, four off-sites, the entirety of Q1, five nail appointments, twenty four pilates classes, and if he knocked you up that very night, it could be the entirety of a first trimester of pregnancy. Not that you wanted to be pregnant - at least not for a while. Like quite a while. It was just a way to compare time. You didn’t want to be pregnant. 

Three months, three months, three months. 

And then he’d come home to you. To you and your life together.

That’s why the party had to be perfect. Because it would remind Bradley of home and all he had to look forward to when he came back in three months. 

“I’m gonna miss you, too.  Never really had someone to miss before on one of these - not like this.” 

And then he kissed you - quick, little butterfly kisses that soon turned bolder and more daring, especially considering there were five or so other people milling about the kitchen. Bradley’s tongue licked your bottom lip, eventually coaxing your mouth open. He tasted like the old fashioned you saw him drinking earlier. You slid your arms up his chest to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer and fiddled with the ends of his soft hair. 

The sounds of the party disappeared around you - you could no longer hear Frank Sinatra singing Jingle Bells, Jake and Georgie talking in the corner, or Javy getting drinks for him and his girlfriend to your right.

All you could focus on was Bradley. And how warm and soft and strong he felt in your arms and how -

“- Fuck’s sake, Bradshaw. Do you want us to leave or…”

You turned around to face Jake and Georgie, the latter of whom looked beyond embarrassed, and leaned back against Bradley’s chest. Shit - you’d forgotten you had an audience, especially Jake and Javy.

“Sorry…” You felt warm all over at getting caught. Normally, you and Bradley weren’t big on PDA, but you’d been needy lately - both of you had been. 

Further down to your right, Javy just chuckled. “Give ‘em a break. You’d be the same if you could hold someone down long enough.” Bradley laughed, while Jake turned beat red.

While him and Javy started chirping at each other, Bradley took your hand and led you out of the kitchen, past all the guests congregating in the dining room and over towards the sitting room. 

“Here, I know what’ll cheer you up.”

There were only a couple people in this part of the house - Caroline and Max, Bob and Callie, and Natasha and Rory, the latter of whom had gone with her to the gala back in October. They were a relatively quiet crowd and looked to be captivated by a story Max was telling. But then again, people were always captivated by Max. 

“…so I say to Garoppolo, ‘you really wanna get the shit beaten out of you for the second time this week?’ Because a guy who folds in front of the fucking Broncos’ defensive line is not one I think can handle being humiliated like this on - aww, if it isn’t Bradley-Boy and our lovely hostess. Come here and give me a kiss, sweetheart.” You chuckled and started over towards Max. “No, not you, darling. I meant Bradley-Boy.” 

With giggles and jeers, everyone turned towards Bradley, who was definitely blushing. But ever the dutiful host, he trudged over towards Max and planted a sloppy kiss on his forehead. 

You had met Max over a year ago via your best friend from college, Caroline. Bradley, on the other hand, had met Max in late March at Mission Beach, right before the two of you had started going out. 

Since moving back to California, Bradley had taken up surfing again and relished his weekend mornings out in the chilly Pacific. It had taken a couple weeks for the guys to realize they were both regulars and get past the initial head nod greeting, but after that they got on like a house on fire. Despite Max being a typical nepotism baby, VC-firm-bro type and Bradley the outgoing, naval man, they were each other’s best friend.

And to be perfectly honest, you thought they may have been a little in love with each other.

Who knows, maybe you would have been at Bradley and Max’s holiday party if you hadn’t met him in April.

“All good now, peaches?” Bradley teased and then turned to everyone else in their little group. “Just so you know, the story ends with Jimmy G challenging Maxi-Pad to a closest to the pin contest and Max shanking his tee shot.”

You laughed and wrapped your free arm back around Bradley’s waist. “Was this how you planned to cheer me up?”

“Oh, god. What’d you do now, Rooster?” Natasha teased. 

“Can I call you ‘Rooster?’” Max asked, much to Caroline’s delight.

“Absolutely fucking not,” Bradley said and then turned towards Natasha. “And nothing, just trying to do everything so can to make sure my girl has a lovely evening.” Everyone let out various sighs and swoons, except Nat and Max, who feigned gagging. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

He grabbed your free hand again and brought you over to the upright piano in the corner, next to where Callie and Bob were lounging on the loveseat. You desperately hoped Bradley was going to play for you - maybe even some Christmas carols. He had such a natural talent for it, even beyond his usual Hard Deck repertoire of that damn Jerry Lee Lewis song. He could play Debussy, Ravel, Schumann - anything, really. You figured he’d start off with Jingle Bells or something like that, but he surprised you with something new.

Bradley’s fingers twinkled out the opening notes to Linus and Lucy and you, and the others in the sitting room, couldn’t help but laugh. He had been right - this did cheer you up. You had always loved the Peanuts. 

Growing up, you’d gone to the Charles Schulz Museum in Santa Rosa too many times to count. It became your favorite place during your parents’ divorce and you always begged your dad to take you whenever you were having a bad day. But then, when the divorce had been finalized and you, your dad and brother eventually moved down to Berkeley, you didn’t get the opportunity to go as often. But your love for the cartoon characters never died and you had the sneaking suspicion that Bradley had learned the song for you - this was the first time you’d ever heard him play it.

You took a hearty sip of your champagne and leaned your arms on the top of the piano, eventually resting your cheek against your fist. Your cheeks hurt from the massive smile stretching across your face as you looked fondly at Bradley. He was concentrating so hard, his tongue was peeking out of his mouth. And his long, graceful fingers were flying across the keys. 

You couldn’t imagine how long it took him to learn this if he was already off book. Did you mention his fingers? His hands? God, they were beautiful. Strong and long and corded - was that the right word? You recalled it from those regency romance novels you had hidden on your Kindle. God, you loved him so much. So fucking much. You’d never loved a person this much before - oh, you were going to miss him so much.

“You two are just like Lucy and Schroeder,” Callie cooed, snapping you out of your thoughts and causing Bradley to fumble a couple of notes. He also was blushing, which was sweet. 

A couple more people filtered into the sitting room, drawn in by the music, and soon people were throwing out requests for Bradley to play while others chatted in the background. He took Pete’s suggestion of Jingle Bells and soon played a jazzy version of the song. 

While Bradley played, the older man came up to you to chat. Penny couldn’t make it to the party, which was admittedly a bit of a disappointment, but she was hoping to stop by later once things wound down a bit at the Hard Deck. 

“Hell of a party, kid.” He toasted you with his beer. 

“Thanks, I just wanted to do something nice for Bradley.”

“Pretty sure you could’ve gotten a pizza and he would’ve been happy.”

You considered that. “True, but that hardly sounds fun - plus, this way I could get a new outfit.”

Pete smiled and you both glanced over towards the piano for a moment as Bradley got Natasha and Bob to sing along with him. It was nice seeing them all carefree and happy and just lighter. Bradley glanced over his shoulder at you and winked. 

“It’s nice seeing him like this,” Pete said. “Hell, last Christmas it was like pulling teeth to get the kid over to Penny’s for Christmas Eve and to see him get a tree and have people over at his place is just - it makes me really happy. Sorry if that’s corny or -”

“- No,” you reassured him, “well, maybe a little. But corny is good sometimes. Especially around the holidays.”

“You guys gonna do gifts tomorrow or…”

You shook your head. “Nah, we’re gonna do them tonight after everyone leaves.”

Pete took a sip of his beer and nodded. “The kid wouldn’t stop talking about your gift, I swear he told everyone on base.”

You felt yourself heat up and glanced over at Bradley again. “Really?” Pete nodded. “I’m nervous now, we promised we were only doing one present, so I hope he likes mine...”

“He will,” Pete sounded certain. “You think you guys will do this at your place every year? Maybe start a new tradition?”

That was a lovely thought. Celebrating Christmas with Bradley for the next x amount of years. Plus, doing this before Christmas would give everyone the opportunity to get together before the actual holidays. 

“Oh, I’d love to,” you gushed, “but it’s Bradley’s call. It’s his house - what?”

Pete cut you off with a look. “Come on, by now you know it’s your house as much as Bradley’s…”

Oh, gosh. You hoped so - one day, at least. The two of you barely spent a night apart, baring whenever one of you was away for work. You barely considered your apartment your home anymore. Instead, it was on the couch in Bradley’s living room, watching TV. Or cooking breakfast together on the weekends and watching Sunday Morning at the kitchen table. Laying beside him in bed at night, his big arms wrapped around you, as you whispered how much you loved each other. You had never felt this way before Bradley, like another person was home. 

And you wanted to be home all the time. 

You could feel the heat creep up your neck, the warmth only amplified by Bradley’s soothing voice singing Let It Snow. 

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Pete apologized, “I just wanted you to know that I can see how much you guys care about each other. And he’s my kid - at the end of the day, I just want him to be happy.” He laid a reassuring hand on your shoulder and you ducked your head before nodding.

Back when you had first met him, you had imagined that gaining Pete’s approval was how you would have felt had Bradley’s parents been alive to give it to you. You thought about them often - more often than you’d ever let Bradley think - and especially as of late. Would they have liked you? Would they have gotten along with your parents? From what you’d been told, they would have made amazing grandparents. Maybe Bradley would even have had more siblings? Maybe, maybe, maybe.

“He makes me really happy, too,” you whispered. Pete pulled you in for a hug and then the two of you just watched Bradley playing for a few moments while the party continued around you two. 

“I’m gonna get another beer, you want anything?” Pete asked. 

You just shook your head. “Nah, I’m good for now, but thanks again for coming. It means a lot to both of us.”

“Wouldn’t miss it, just make sure the kid doesn’t drink too much. He always gets a little chatty…” And then Pete set off towards the kitchen, leaving you alone, but only for a moment until you heard Max’s voice in the hallway.

“Caro, darling, will you help me with something outside…” You crept over towards him, curious to see what he was up to and why he needed Caro’s help.

Caroline didn’t even look up from her phone. “I’m not giving you a handjob, darling.”

“Oh, please don’t,” you drawled, alerting them both to your presence, “Mr. Harrington already thinks we’re delinquents, can’t have him thinking we associate with them, too,” you said referring to your - no, Bradley’s neighbor. 

Mr. Harrington hadn’t exactly called you and Bradley delinquents - rather, he had called you a fresh young lady after you had unknowingly flipped him off at an intersection in another neighborhood, only to find out that he was the crotchety old man that lived next door to Bradley. He had been waiting for you in the driveway when you’d gotten home a few minutes later, demanding to talk to Bradley about you. But the old man hadn’t stood a chance with you and Bradley had just stood on the porch with a proud smile on his face as you gave him a piece of your mind. Since then, he’d just pass silent judgment whenever he saw you outside.

Max held up two fingers. “I’ll be on my best behavior, Scout’s honor.”

“It’s three fingers, dumbass.”

He breezed past you and started towards the door, gesturing for Caroline to follow him. “Good thing I was never a Boy Scout then…”

“Please, Max. Just tell me if you’re going to -”

“- Secrets, secrets are only fun unless you don’t share with anyone -”

“- That’s not even how it goes!” 

Max shrugged and grabbed Caroline’s hand, pulling her close to his side. “It’ll be fun, we promise! Plus, maybe Max won’t even come back to the party…”

Oh, he was definitely doing the Santa thing. But at this point, maybe it would be fun and memorable? And maybe you were just drunk enough to let it happen. 

“Fine, fine. As long as Max doesn’t come back to the party, you can do whatever you have planned -” 

Max cut you off with a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, love. Now, Caro! Your assistance, please!”

You waved them off towards the front door and made your way back to the sitting room where Bradley was taking requests for his next song. 

His eyes were scanning the room for whom you realized was you and a great, big smile spread across his face. “Nah, I got one already. Just needed my girl in here for this.” You chuckled and walked over towards the piano. “Figured we had to end on a high note, plus I heard a rumor Santa’s coming…”

There were hoots and hollers throughout the room, which didn’t let up even as Bradley played the first notes of the song he apparently needed you for assistance. 

“I’ll sing the first few lines, but then you gotta take over, alright, sweetheart?”

You sat next to him on the narrow bench and giggled, not quite knowing what he had up his sleeve, but more than ready to go along for the ride. “You got it, rocketman.”

Bradley pecked you on the lips and then turned to the room as he played. 

“I really can’t stay…baby, it’s cold outside…I’ve got to go ‘way…baby, it’s cold outside…”

Oh god. 

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

Hours later, after all your guests had left, fuller and far drunker than they’d been when they’d arrived, you and Bradley were tidying up the living room. The dishwasher was rumbling in the kitchen, the first of many loads you’d have to do tonight and tomorrow, but it was drowned out by the music still playing on the Sonos, while the extra food had been put away in the fridge.

From your spot across the room where you were fluffing the couch cushions, you glanced over towards Bradley. He sat, leaning against the chaise lounge, and idly sipped from a bottle of champagne that he kept putting down on the floor - though on a coaster, mind you. His hair was perfectly tousled and messy and he had a pleased smile on his face as he stared at the Christmas tree in front of him. His right hand was absentmindedly running up and down his thigh, just begging for you to ride it.

You joined him on the floor and he wordlessly passed the bottle of champagne to you before throwing his arm around your shoulders. 

“You did good, kid,” he said suddenly. 

A smile lit up your face. “Really?” Brady chuckled at your earnestness. “You’re not just saying that because this is like the first halfway decent party you’ve ever -”

“- Hey! I’ve been to plenty of decent parties! But I think - I think that this might be the best one yet.”

As a reward for his sweetness, you gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You think everyone got along? I only overheard one argument between Caro and Jake.” And it had been over the latest cryptocurrency scandal of all things. 

“Yeah, but to be fair, I think trauma bonding over your singing really brought everyone together.”

You were not as bad as Bradley had said - at the very least, you could carry a tune. Granted, you wouldn’t be on the Voice anytime soon, but if you were an SNL cast member and needed to sing for a sketch, you might be okay. And no one really focused on the actual singing during Baby It’s Cold Outside - it wasn’t exactly the paragon of Christmas songs or social norms. 

But it was just about the perfect duet, in that it was a crowd pleaser, a little slutty, and campy as hell. And as it so happened, you had been feeling a little slutty with all the champagne you had drunk throughout the evening. Plus, with Bradley on the keys and no one else sober enough to make fun of your less than stellar singing skills, you had been a glutton for attention. You had used your champagne coupe as a microphone and had only spilled a couple drops - at first.

“- But baby, it's cold outside -”

“ - This welcome has been -”

“ - How lucky that you dropped in -”

“ - So nice and warm -”

“ - Look out the window at that storm -”

“ - My sister will be suspicious -”

“ - Gosh, your lips look delicious -” Bradley kissed your proffered hand and you shimmied around the piano bench, eventually draping yourself over his shoulders while he continued playing.

Would you regret it in the morning? Probably. Did the song have a weird history? Yes. But it was your goddamn Christmas party! And you had wanted to have fun and fawn over your boyfriend. It had also been a good distraction from what you had correctly assumed was Max planning to crash the party as Santa with a sleigh full of presents for everyone. But Max was richer than Croesus; he could afford it.

“Come on, Bradshaw. How’s she been this year? Naughty or nice?”

You shot Bradley a glance, curious as to what his answer would be. But he just smiled wryly and toasted Max with his drink before taking a sip.

You closed the distance between the two of you and whispered in his ear, “Clever boy…”

He grabbed your ass, thankfully out of sight of your guests. “My smart girl…”

“Is that what you want me to be tonight?”

Frankly, you had been shocked Bradley hadn’t kicked everyone out then and there. 

But now you were cozy and tired in all the best ways and had Bradley to yourself for the rest of the evening. You burrowed your face into his chest and pressed a couple kisses to the column of his neck, suddenly desperate to touch him. It seemed Bradley was of the same mindset and carefully settled you on his lap. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling you closer and you shifted your attention to his lips. 

Somehow, the two of you wound up laying on the floor at the edge of the Christmas tree. The soft lights made Bradley’s brown eyes appear like pools of chocolate and you flushed. He groaned as you rolled your hips against his lap, already feeling the bulge forming in his jeans. Shit - were you going to fuck underneath the Christmas tree? Like properly fuck on the floor underneath the Christmas tree.

You started grinding against him, desperate to be closer, and then kissed along his neck in the hopes of leaving a reminder of this night for him. You peered up at the Christmas tree, lost in the beauty of the moment, when you suddenly noticed something. 

The presents.

The presents under the tree.

The three presents under the tree. 

Except…

There were only supposed to be two presents under the tree. One from each of you. You had been very clear about that right after Thanksgiving. Had even set a price limit.

Fuck. Oh, no. No, no, no. You pulled back and Bradley chased your lips with his own.

“Bubs! We said one present each!” 

He shrugged underneath you and kept rubbing his hands in soothing circles on your hips. “It’s nothing - well, it’s not nothing. But it’s just something I’ve been thinking about for a while and I figured this would be a good time.”

“But - but I only got you one!” 

Oh god - oh god. You ruined it. You ruined Bradley’s Christmas. You knew you should’ve gotten him that Otis Redding vinyl, too. But a Theragun? What had you been thinking? That was such a dumb gift. So impersonal, so boring, so basic. It was on three different gift guides from the Strategist for fuck’s sake. You figured it would be good for his back while he was deployed, you knew it had been giving him a lot of trouble lately. But now that Bradley had given you two gifts? In two separate boxes? 

You didn’t think the ornament you’d gotten him counted as a separate gift. Tacking it onto the box was just something your family had always done.

Clearly noticing the panic on your face, Bradley sat up slightly. “Hey, hey. It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s -”

“- I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to ruin everything. I knew I should’ve had a back up present for you-”

He said your name firmly and you looked up at him. “- You didn’t ruin anything, alright? Hey, why don’t you open it first and then we can talk about it, okay?”

“Okay…”

You reached out for the present like it was going to explode, barely even taking notice of how nicely it had been wrapped. (Granted, you were still you, so you did actually notice, but probably would have fawned over the quaint wrapping paper and grosgrain ribbon a bit more had you not already been wigging out.) Next to you, Bradley bit his lip as he watched you peel through the paper. Why was he so nervous? He always gave you the best presents.

At first, there was nothing but a small gift box. It wasn’t terribly heavy. And it definitely wasn’t jewelry. Mainly because any of the jewelry you actually would have liked was definitely not within the spending limit, which Bradley knew. But also, it just didn’t feel like jewelry. It couldn’t have been an ornament, he wouldn’t have been this nervous.

So, what the fuck was it?

You slid your finger underneath the flap of the box and popped the lid open. But then there was the tissue paper. Goddamnit, Bradley! Why was he so good at wrapping presents! You glanced up at him only to see that he was blushing. Properly blushing. Like pink neck, pink cheeks - hell, even the tips of his ears were pink - blushing. 

Unable to take the suspense a moment longer, you dove into the tissue paper to find -

“- A key?” Your fingers gently picked up the offending object, only belatedly noticing that the key fob matched your favorite work tote bag. 

Bradley nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been wanting to ask you to move in with me for ages, it’s just we had so much time until it would become an issue, but then I got deployed and I know your lease will just about be up by the time I get back in the spring. So, I figured now would be a good time to ask if you wanted to move in with me? But if you think it’s too soon, I can totally wait. However long it takes for you to be comfortable with it is fine with me - I just want to have my life with you.”

“Bubs…” your voice was thick. “I uhh -”

“- I always want to come home to you - if you’ll have me?”

Oh god, oh god, oh god. You let out a disbelieving laugh. You would have Bradley Bradshaw in any way you could get him. He was your home.

You wiped away a wayward tear. “Bradley, this is - this is so unbelievably perfect. Yes, yes, I will move with you.”

He surged forward to kiss you and you temporarily forgot all your previous worries because Bradley wanted to move in with you. He wanted to share furniture and go grocery shopping for food that would go in the same fridge. He wanted to wake up beside you every single morning and come home to you every single evening and go to sleep beside you every single night. He wanted everything. And that’s what you wanted to give him.

“God, I love you so much.”

You never got tired of hearing him say that. “I love you, too. Sorry I made such a big deal about the presents…”

“No, I’m sorry. I should’ve just put it in with the other gift, I get how it could have thrown you off.”

He was being nice and not pushing it for the moment, which you really appreciated. “Say, why don’t you open your gift from me and then I’ll open your other one?”

You crawled over towards the other two presents under the tree and gave the one that said to; rocketman to Bradley, while you took the other one with your name on it. It was decently sized and relatively light. The thing with Bradley that always made you nervous was that he gave the best presents.

For your birthday, he had not only organized a trip for the two of you out to Catalina Island, but he had also learned how to fucking sail Penny’s boat, so he could be the one to take you there himself. He had been so excited and had looked so cute in his white linen pants and navy blue button down and you swore you had never been more attracted to him. 

And then, for your six month anniversary, he had somehow gotten you two into Addison out in Carmel Valley for dinner and then followed that up with a trip to the drive-in to see a special showing of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Though to be fair, neither of you had paid as much attention to the movie as you had been too busy necking each other in the backseat of the Bronco.

In short, he was a prince among men. Well, except when he wasn’t. But that wasn’t often. So, you were excited, but wary to open his gift, knowing nothing could possibly top the house key.

You tore through the wrapping paper to find another box similar to the one from earlier, except this one was heavier. Beneath the tissue paper laid a thick white envelope and an apron in a Liberty pattern. Your smile grew as you opened the envelope and saw that Bradley had gifted you cooking lessons for the next three months.

“Bubs.” You nudged his shoulder. “This is perfect, thank you. The apron is super cute, too.”

Bradley chuckled. “Now you can stop wearing mine and hopefully stop burning risotto -”

“- It was one time!” 

“Yeah and you almost burned down your apartment.” You made a face and he made one right back before turning serious. “But I thought it would be nice, something for you to do while I’m gone.”

You kissed his cheek. “I’m excited and I’m gonna make you the best dinner you’ve ever had when you come home to me, alright?”

“It’s a date.” 

“Perfect, now open yours!” You pushed the present towards him. 

Bradley was one of those people that opened presents like they were going to save the wrapping paper, which meant he did it slowly and purposefully. This normally didn’t bother you, but you were already a little on edge from earlier and had to sit on your hands to stop you from ripping the paper off yourself.

First, he took off the little ornament you had affixed to the package. Harkening back to your first date, you had gotten him a Saturn V Rocket ornament to add to the tree, giving your rocketman something to aspire to.

He shook his head. “I’ll get there one day, sweetheart…” he said fondly. “Now let’s see what we have here.”

The nerves settled in your stomach again and you barely let him unwrap the present before you jumped on him with an explanation.

“Wait, is this one of those -”

“ - It’s a Theragun. I know I make fun of you for having a sore back and being old a lot, but I thought this could help when you’re deployed and I’m not around to tend to your every need,” you teased.

Bradley conceded a nod. “You do give good back massages…” You preened. “But I get these ads on my Instagram all the time, so this is perfect, thank you.”

“I figured it wasn’t something you’d buy for yourself and it’ll come in hand -”

“- I bet it’s a wicked strong vibrator - owww!”

“Bradley!” You giggled. Holy shit, you hadn’t even thought of that. There were like five different speeds on that thing and six different attachments. Fuck. “In that case, maybe I should keep it…”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He slid the box behind his back and you crawled over to steal it away from him.

But before you could wrap your arms around him, Bradley pulled you into his lap and eventually the Theragun was pushed away and the two of you were sprawled out on the floor making out like a bunch of horny teenagers again.

Goddamn - you really were gonna fuck underneath the Christmas tree, weren’t you? Now that would be the perfect memory for Bradley to take with him. Festive and fun and spontaneous.

His hands felt sinful as they crept up your thighs. It was like he was mapping out the slowest route to his destination, especially as they cupped your ass and ground your body against his. Suddenly, you let out a hiss as your elbow hit the hardwood floor, but quickly reassured Bradley that you were okay once he stopped to check in with you.

He whispered your name. “I need you so badly.”

“- Fuck, me too. Want you to take me right here -”

“- Owww,” Bradley let out a groan against your lips.

You immediately pulled back, concern lacing your features. “Shit, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just - I don’t think we should do this on the floor?”

“But it’s very spur of the moment?” You glanced around the living room, past the Christmas tree and the wrapping paper from your respective presents. “What about the couch?”

“We just got it dry-cleaned - again.”

You sat further back on his lap and Bradley propped himself up on his elbows. Your wrap dress draped prettily over your bare thighs. “We can put a towel down?”

“Isn’t it upstairs?”

You made a face. “I could go get it? Or we could break out a new one?”

“Then I might as well come upstairs with you -”

“- But I want it to be spontaneous!”

He rolled his hips and you sighed. “We can be spontaneous upstairs…”

“Yeah, but…” You could feel the tears starting to form and your throat closing up.

Bradley tried to get in your line of sight after you ducked your head. “Hey, what is it? It’s alright.”

You sniffled. “I just want you to have some good memories before you leave and be spontaneous - especially since during the party I was pretty stressed and uptight -” The last word came out bitterly, but Bradley didn’t let you finish your sentence. 

“- Hey, none of that, alright? I knew you were a little stressed, but just chalked it up to the party. What’s really going on, sweetheart?”

You wanted to tell him. That you were going to miss him and wanted him to be able to think of the two of you doing all these fun and exciting and wonderful things before he left. That you didn’t want him to think of you crying and puffy eyed and sad. That you didn’t want him to think of you having sex in your bed, like any other night, but how you couldn’t even make it upstairs because you needed each other so much, so desperately and had to make due with the living room floor. 

Just say you were tired. Just say you were tired. 

But when Bradley took your hand and threaded your fingers together and started drawing circles across your palm, the tears came. And came and came and didn’t stop. You rubbed at your eyes with your free hand and repositioned yourself to lay beside him. 

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, come here.” Bradley wrapped his arm around your shoulders and let you rest your head on his chest. “Shh, shh, it’s okay, honey.” 

Once the tears slightly abated, you took in a deep breath to ground yourself. “I wanted everything to be perfect for you since you’re not going to be home for Christmas and all this stuff went wrong -”

“- Sweetheart, baby, no, no. It didn’t go wrong, everything went really really right.”

“Really?” you whispered.

Bradley chuckled. “Yeah, best Christmas I’ve had since - fuck, I can’t remember when. Come here.” He wrapped his arms around you.

“I know it was dumb to be worried about it - and to let myself get upset over it - but I think I was just so focused on the party and the presents and making everything perfect because I don’t want to think too much about you leaving.” You sniffled. “And I feel like that makes me seem childish or like I can’t handle this - your job, I mean. But I’m really just going to miss you, so fucking much. And I’ve never felt like this before.”

The look in Bradley’s eyes after you unloaded all that made you feel ten times lighter and you regretted not saying anything earlier. 

“Sweetheart…” He tucked your hair behind your ear. “It’s definitely not dumb to be worried about stuff like that and I know you can handle all of this - I’m not worried in that respect. I just want you to know how much I appreciated every single thing you’ve done for me these last couple weeks trying to make sure I had a good Christmas. And I know it’s cliche to say, but it’s the goddamn truth - I don’t care what we do for Christmas as long as I get to spend it at home with you, alright?”

Your heart soared and you felt the tears forming again at his words. I don’t care what we do for Christmas as long as I get to spend it at home with you. Because in the end, that was all that really mattered. You just kept your reply simple. “Alright, rocketman.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You kissed him again. “I love you so much, bubs.”

“Even though I’m old and don’t think we should fuck on the living room floor?” 

You chuckled at his attempt to bring some levity into an otherwise heavy conversation. “Yes, Bradley. I love you even though you wouldn’t let me fuck you on the living room floor…”

This time, Bradley pulled you closer, so your body was spread out on top of him and kissed you, licking your bottom lip before opening your mouth up to him. His hands snuck underneath the skirt of your silk dress, skirting the edge of your panties. You sighed. His hands were calloused and a little rough, but they still touched you like you were the most precious thing in the world. 

“Hold up, I never said I wouldn’t let you, I just said I don’t think - hey!” Bradley tried to fend off your tickle attack, but could only get a few words out between his giggles. “Stop, you know I’m old!”

Your ridiculously handsome, thirty-six year old, naval aviator boyfriend was giggling on the floor of your house because your were tickling his sides. If only you could show this version of Bradley to the Navy - maybe then they wouldn’t take him away from you at Christmas. Stupid US Military Industrial Complex. Fucking Lockheed Martin. 

“Also, are you still upset that I got you two presents? Because if you are, can I just make you come once tonight? Level the field.”

You giggled. “Shut up.” Your kiss cut off any reply he had been about to give and you licked his bottom lip, coaxing open his mouth. 

“Uh, uh, uh.” You paused and tilted your head slightly to look Bradley in the eye. “Now, what did Santa ask earlier, huh? You been naughty or nice this year?”

There were two ways in which this could play out - with two different, though ultimately satisfying results. One would play out relatively quickly - and the other would ensure you were occupied all night. 

“Nice?” 

Bradley clicked his tongue. “Don’t know about that…”

“Why not? Haven’t I been good?” You pouted, completely exaggerated, which Bradley picked up on in an instant.

“Good girls don’t typically have to ask if they’ve been good…”

“Maybe I don’t want to be good tonight…”

Bradley sucked in a breath as you snuck your hand underneath his shirt and teased the waistband of his jeans. His skin was hot to the touch beneath your fingers as you unbuttoned his shirt. You leaned forward to press little butterfly kisses to his neck and gradually made your way down past the little tufts of hair on his chest. 

“Please touch me, sweetheart. Please.” 

There was a carnal need inside you to mark his skin. To give him proof of your love and need for him, so that he could look at the marks in the mirror until they faded. A kiss across his neck, a soft bite on his shoulder, another on his bicep by his tattoo. You’re mine. Mine, mine, mine. And I want everyone to know. 

“God, Bradley. You’re so beautiful,” you whispered against his skin. “So beautiful and all mine.”

Bradley let out a whine as your teeth grazed against the sensitive flesh on his neck. “Fuck, I love you.”

His hands inched up your thighs, getting closer to the throbbing heat between your legs. Maybe it was the festive spirit, the fact that Bradley had asked you to move in with him, or that he was shipping out in 28 hours for three months, but you were pathetically wet already. Desperate and needy and as naughty as he had joked earlier. 

“I can feel the heat pouring off you, sweetheart.” 

“Can we go - ahhh - can we go upstairs, please?”

He pulled back slightly. “What happened to fucking on the living room floor?” he teased. 

“Don’t want to fuck up your old man back anymore - Bradley!” you cried out as he smacked your ass. 

“Old man, huh?” His smile was sinful and you were putty in his hands.

You widened your eyes, trying to appear contrite. “Sorry, sir. It won’t happen - Bradley!” He cut you off again, but this time because he was tickling your sides and your giggles made it impossible to speak. “Ta-take me upstairs, bubs - please. Don’t - don’t want you to hold back.”

“Now how could I refuse that?”

Gradually, the two of you made your way upstairs to the bedroom, though with a couple of breaks in between for Bradley to press you up against the walls and on the staircase. You’d have bruises tomorrow, you were sure. But you wanted them to last - to be something to remember this night by for the weeks and months to come. 

You landed heavily on the bed, bouncing slightly, and peered up at Bradley. His bare chest was rising and falling steadily with each breath he took as he looked you over, like he was trying to memorize you. 

Without breaking eye contact, you rose to your knees and pulled at the pretty little bow tying your wrap dress. Hours ago, you’d felt self conscious about your body in front of everyone else, but at that moment you felt like the most beautiful girl in the world. Bradley’s eyes widened as he took in the way you slowly pushed the silk dress off your shoulders, leaving you only in your burgundy bra and panties. It wasn’t exactly a matching set, but the colors matched and that was enough for the two of you that night. 

“God, you’re gorgeous.”

Bradley lunged forward, causing you to fall back against the pillows and you wrapped your legs around his hips with a gleeful cry, which he promptly cut off with his lips. 

After spending ample time just kissing you and running his hands up and down your body, Bradley lavished attention on your breasts, licking and biting and sucking on them like a man possessed. Your nipples were peaked to attention, thanks to the slight chill in the bedroom and his thorough ministrations. With one hand, he paid special attention to the skin just below your nipple, rubbing his middle finger along the tender flesh while thumbing at the raised bud. Meanwhile, his other hand kept trekking downward towards your clit. 

“Oh god!” you cried out against his lips as he slid his fingers inside you and crooked them just right. 

“So fucking wet, sweetheart.”

Fuck. You could feel yourself clenching around him, desperate for something more. You were needy for him that night. Needy to have your boyfriend all to yourself. To give yourself to him completely. Your orgasm was well and truly building up inside you, but you wanted to come on his cock first. There would be plenty more opportunities that night to come apart in other ways. 

You’d work him all through the night if you had to just to get your fix before he left. The thought made you desperate. 

“Bu-bubs, please. I need more - need your cock inside me.” You pulled him closer, grazing your thighs against his throbbing cock. 

Bradley groaned. “Such a needy fucking thing, bucking against my fingers like that, huh?” You whined. “But I’m gonna fuck you nice and slow, yeah. Make sure you savor it.”

It sounded fucking sinful the way your cunt was sucking in Bradley’s fingers. He’d begun scissoring them inside you so as to not have to remove them just yet. 

More. More. More. You chanted the words mindlessly in your head. Mine. Mine. Mine. 

Finally, he pulled out his fingers and shamelessly dried them off on your breasts. “You ready?” You nodded frantically. “Don’t think either of us is gonna last long.”

No, you didn’t think so either. But you didn’t want to prolong this. You needed to be close to him and to know he was real and good and yours. At least for tonight. 

Knowing each other as you did, you raised your hips slightly, letting Bradley to slip inside you. You both moaned, you loving the stretch and him loving the tight warmth. You wrapped your arm around his neck, bringing his lips closer to yours, but not daring to lean in those final few centimeters to touch, and instead just breathed against each other. 

“Fuck,” you rasped against his lips, “I love you.”

“Love you so much.” He snapped his hips against yours and you cried out. “Gonna miss you.”

You ducked your head to swipe your lips across the scar on his neck. “Can’t wait for you to come home to me.”

Home. Home. Home. Bradley wouldn’t just be coming back to San Diego in three months: he would be coming home - to you. And to this great, big, beautiful house he wanted to share with you. And to the life he wanted to share with you. 

He groaned your name. “I’ve wanted this for so long. Can’t believe it’s happening.”

Tears pricked your eyes and you bridged the gap to kiss him. “Bubs, I’m so close, please.”

“Tell me how to get you there? I wanna wait for you.” 

If he kept saying things like that, you wouldn’t be too far behind. Without breaking eye contact, you brought Bradley’s hand down to your clit and he played with the sensitive nub. You keened against his hand, which was coupled with a particularly deep thrust of his cock. You felt that coil in your belly finally unraveling.

“‘M close, feels so good. Again…”

He repeated the action again and again, telling you how gorgeous you were as you took his cock and how much he loved you and needed you and you felt like the luckiest girl in the world. Because for tonight you were.

With a strangled cry of his name, you came and true to his word, Bradley followed shortly after. Fuck. He felt so good. He made you feel so good, so full, so loved. 

“Good girl, such a good girl for me.” He peppered kisses up and down your neck and across your cheeks, before settling on your lips. The two of you sat there like that for a few moments, trying to even out your breathing and be as close together as possible. 

But eventually Bradley had to pull out and you whimpered at the loss. He settled you back against the pillows and then started cleaning you up with the towel in his nightstand. Before he got to your still leaking cunt, he scooped up some of your cum with his fingers and brought it to your lips. 

“Open.” You did so without a second thought and cleaned off his fingers, getting high off the taste of the two of you mixed together. “Good girl.”

Then you let yourself get settled underneath the covers. You could go to the bathroom in a few minutes because right now you wanted to be with Bradley. Your bodies were both hot and sticky underneath the white sheets, but you couldn’t think of anywhere else you wanted to be than in his arms. 

“I’m gonna miss you so much, bubs.” You cupped his cheek tenderly, like he would disappear at any moment. A nagging little voice at the back of your mind said that he would, in fact, do just that - on Monday morning. But that night he was yours. 

Bradley nuzzled your hand, eventually pressing a kiss to your palm. “It’s not too long, just three months.”

“Three months without you.” Kiss. “Without your singing.” Kiss. “Your cooking.” Kiss. “Your smile and your silly little mustache.” Kiss. Kiss. “Three months without you, rocketman.” 

Your eyes were swimming with tears, but they were properly dripping down Bradley’s cheeks. 

“But we still have tonight.”

You still had tonight. And you’d be in each other’s arms till the morning light. 

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

Two weeks later, as you sat in your childhood bedroom on Christmas Eve, you were at once hit with a startling realization: it wasn’t your home anymore. It hadn’t been in years, really. Not since you’d officially moved out after college. But that fact had never been so apparent until you were waiting for the Facetime call to connect to Bradley. 

Your home was in San Diego with your friends and your job. Your home was with your boyfriend, snuggled up on the couch watching TV, perusing the aisles of the farmer’s market, watching him surf, and cooking dinner together. Your home was with Bradley. 

And you just wanted to be home - you just wanted Bradley. 

You had put on a brave face during Christmas Eve celebrations with your family - at least with your extended family. You had sung carols at church, helped Mary and your dad prep and lay out all the traditional Christmas Eve dishes, organized the Yankee Swap with your brother and Lauren, and had a few too many cocktails with your cousins. But as the last of your grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins had left and your dad had turned on NBC for the end of It’s a Wonderful Life, you had lost it. 

Properly, honestly, well and truly lost it. As in fat tears streaming down your face, snot clogging your nose, remnants of your mascara rimmed around your eyes lost it.

Goddamn Harry Bailey got to come home in time for Christmas! Harry got to toast to his “big brother George: the richest man in town.” Granted, George had basically just tried to kill himself, so the comparison wasn’t perfect - but still! Congressional Medal of Honor winner, Navy pilot Harry Bailey got to be home for Christmas! Why couldn’t Bradley? Fucking Navy. Fucking stupid US Military Industrial Complex. Fucking Lockheed Martin. 

At the sight of your tears, Mary had just opened up her blanket and let you burrow against her side as she rubbed your back like she used to when you were a kid, while your dad had gotten you a cup of Sleepytime Tea. Eventually, once you had calmed down enough and they had said all the right words to soothe your heartache, you had kissed your dad and Mary goodnight  - Mary had hugged you a bit tighter than usual - and they both had told you to give Bradley their best during your Facetime call. 

They liked Bradley - a lot, actually. Of course, they’d given him a tough time when they first talked on the phone all those months ago, but by the time Bradley officially met them at Thanksgiving, it was like he’d known them for years. He just fit. 

He loved to talk to Mary about her history classes at Berkeley and how her students were doing. He had the same sense of humor as your dad and also loved the Patriots despite their recent offensive coordinator troubles. 

He just made you lighter and made things lighter. He fit. 

And you could only hope that one year he’d be able to come up to Berkeley with you to celebrate for the holidays instead of being all alone on an aircraft carrier somewhere in the Pacific. Fucking Navy. Fucking stupid US Military Industrial Complex. Fucking Lockheed Martin.

Shit! The call was finally connecting. You felt tears in your eyes as you finally got to see your beautiful boy again. Though the picture was a little grainy, Bradley was sitting in what looked like one of the quiet rooms in your office, clad in his green flight suit. And he had the most wonderful smile on his face at the sight of you.

“Hey, sweetheart. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, bubs,” you said, hoping your voice didn’t come out as thickly over Facetime as it did in your room.

For what felt like the longest time, but was probably only a few seconds, you stared at each other, just drinking in the other’s face. Bradley already looked tired. This was your first Facetime since he’d left two weeks ago. Normally, you talked over email - which was actually kind of fun. 

Early on in your relationship during a one week special detachment, you had unironically sent him a pretty formal email to check in:

Bradley,

Hope you’re settling in well. Let me know when it would be a good time to connect via FaceTime. I can put some time on my calendar whenever you’re free. I’m heading to an off-site in Raleigh on Thursday, so I’ll be on East Coast time. 

Miss you and stay safe,

x

It had even been from your PwC email address, which he never let you forget. But soon quasi-formal emails became your thing. They probably set off a bunch of red flags to the censor team and you had never sent one from your work email again, but it was fun. You’d even thought of a couple code words and phrases to use.

“You have a good night? How’s your dad and Mary? Tell them thanks again for the package.”

Your parents had had the idea to send everything they normally would have put in Bradley’s Christmas stocking to him on the carrier. He had emailed the three of you a picture of the package, received in perfect condition, on his bunk yesterday. You two had decided that he would open it while you were on your FaceTime call. It wasn’t anything particularly special, except for two small gifts you’d snuck in before bringing it to the post office, but you were excited and could tell Bradley was too.

You held your breath as he parsed through the Dr.Jart sheet masks, Churchill cigars, various Christmas themed candies, new electric toothbrush heads, and scratch cards until he got to the bottom of the stack where your two special presents were hidden.

“Now, what’s this?” He shot you a teasing glance as he opened the envelope. 

You remained tight lipped, just glad it hadn’t been opened by Naval mail security. Bradley slid the object out of the envelope and you could see his eyes widen, even over Facetime, as he realized what it was before he promptly turned it over and glanced around even though there was no one else in the room with him. 

“Shit - how’d you - how’d you take this?” He leaned back in his chair and stared at it, clearly a little in awe.

You felt your cheeks heating up. “Well, I know you have a couple on your phone, but figured an old fashioned one might be nice too - especially if you’re in a tech blackout or whatever it’s called. But do you really like it - seriously, you don’t have -”

“- No, I love it. You’re not getting this back from me.” You giggled. “But you gotta tell me how you managed to get the Polaroid in the shower with you and still get the soapy titties in the picture?”

“Can’t tell you everything, now can I?”

(Caroline had taken them for you. It truly had been a bonding experience and was honestly not half as sexy as Bradley was probably thinking. But you just smiled - more than content to keep that a secret from him.) 

“Well, it is very much appreciated. So, thank you, I love it, seriously.”

You tried to peer into the box from halfway across the world. “There should be one more thing in there from me - and you don’t have to use it, but I know something similar always makes me feel like you’re right next to me…”

Bradley gingerly unwrapped the final tissue paper package only to reveal a travel sized bottle of your perfume. You giggled, watching him spritz his wrist and breathe in the scent.

“Fuck…I’ve missed that.” 

You rested your cheek against your fist and just watched him. For a minute, it felt like he was right in front of you. It made you want to do something terribly cliche like hold your palm up against the screen and imagine you could feel the heat from his hand as he did the same thing back.

But instead Bradley just smiled at you and asked you all about your Christmas Eve activities.

So, you told him about sneaking outside to smoke with your cousins, drinking too much champagne, eating too much food made from your grandma’s recipes from the old country, getting an actually good gift in the Yankee Swap, and crying over Harry Bailey. And he just listened and smiled and asked questions at all the right parts and kept telling you how much he would have loved to do all that beside you next year. 

And then with your remaining five minutes of calltime, Bradley told you all the goings on aboard the ship and how he and Bob and Reuben were doing and about the fancy dinner and breakfast planned for tomorrow.

But then the dreaded countdown clock on the side of the screen popped up, signaling you had thirty seconds left. By then, both of you had tears in your eyes as you tried to say goodbye until your next call.

“So, we’ll talk in two weeks, okay? Should be just after New Year’s, but keep emailing me. I love reading them when I get the chance.”

You wiped a stray tear from your eye. “Of course, I’ll give you a full Christmas morning breakdown.”

Bradley chuckled, but seemed to glance at the countdown clock and sobered up. “I love you, I love you so much and I’m so happy I get to come home to you, sweetheart.”

“I love you, too. Merry Christmas, bubs. Please come home.”

-----------

a/n: sorry it took me so fucking long to write again, but a girl can only be so self indulgent! merry christmas, this taglist is shit sorry!

Taglist: @sunderlust @seasonsbloom @ticklish-leafy-plant @lass-that-is-gone @katcoquette @daniellef89x @double-j @bradshawswife @hufflepuffprincesse @cloudycluster @sithbelova @mavencalorers @fav-rooster-fics @thebeautifullydamnedone @unordinare @callsignvalley @pricklepearbloom @browneyedboys @cherrycola27 @whatblogisthis216 @agentofkrypton @lcahwriter @kyliesalvatore @noellreadfiction @coyotesamachado @heartsofminds @jocsrecs @notroosterbradshaw @roosterforme @iblogtopassthetime @karateperson @nessrin @frenchtoastix @piceous21 @princessphilly @spideyngwen @mrsjobarnes @calmpunker @softspiderling @feralforfrank @fivsecondsflat @sexualparkour @greenorangevioletgrass @sexygaypalpatine @moonyscardigans @carousallie @liveholland @supernaturaldawning @melancholyy-hill @currentlybradshaw @summ3rlotus @seesaw-jk @roostereads @milestomaverick @some-lovely-day​ @steadfastconviction​ ​​@sometimesanalice @jupitercomet @rae-gar-targaryen @oncasette @whisperofsong @call-sign-jinx @howdysebby

[goldenseresinretriever]

Snitches Get Stitches: Chapter 5

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: Jake Seresin, golden boy of the NHL and Captain of the Dallas Stars makes headlines when he unexpectedly signs with newly-formed San Diego Dogfighters. When your future seems at the verge of crashing down, you receive the opportunity of a lifetime to become the team physician for the Dogfighters. You never expected to be working directly with your favorite hockey player. Jake has a secret and you have a job to do. Will he be able to trust you enough to help and will you be able to trust him with your heart?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, violence, sports violence, medical stuff, blood probably, angst, fluff, (eventual) smut, forbidden romance, sexual harassment, suggestive language, medical inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: This is a repost of my completed series, Snitches Get Stitches. It was originally posted in October-November 2023, and was lost when my blog was deleted.

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

You glance at the GPS on the screen of your car again as you scan the street ahead of you. It’s situated on a quieter side of town and half the homes have beach access. Not at all where you’d pictured a single star-athlete in his early thirties to be living. It’s not like you expected a seedy bachelor pad riddled with used condoms and syphilis, but this was a neighborhood for the settled. Cookie cutter families walk along the sidewalks pushing strollers and chatting amongst each other. Kids ride their bikes unattended, safe in their suburban utopia. You and the well-loved car that you’ve had since you were sixteen are feeling slightly out of place in this picture-perfect neighborhood as if you’re a hopeless puppy tracking mud on a freshly cleaned kitchen floor.

The GPS chimes, alerting you that you’ve reached your destination. The house on your right looks a lot like the others on the street, a cozy suburban beach house. The driveway is empty so Jake’s truck must be parked in the garage. You pull into the free space, sighing as you scan the home for any clues about its owner. There’s none to be found. Curtains shield the inside of the house from view, and there’s no furniture or decoration on the porch. The only evidence of the house even being lived in is the freshly mowed lawn. You frown hoping that Jake hired someone to do that. The idea of him pushing a mower with his knee in its current state fills you with irritation. The idea of Jake, shirtless and sweaty pushing the mower fills you with more irritation. You shake your head to clear away the image, before getting out of the car, and heading up the short path to the door. You hesitate before knocking, wondering if you should have just stayed in the car and texted him to come out. You decide against it since he has his leg to worry about plus wrangling a dog. Speaking of Pudding, you’re saved the trouble of deciding to knock as a chorus of barking alerts her owner to your presence at the door. You hear a muffled voice amongst the barks as the door swings open to reveal Jake wrestling with the collar of a Tibetan mastiff with a glassy caramel coat who’s doing her best to get away from her owner so she can give you a proper welcome.

“Pud, come on, you need to settle down. Come on girl.” He urges the giant fluffball of joy. You drop to squat in front of her.

“Hey girl, it’s nice to finally meet you.” You reach out a hand for her to sniff only to have her instantly soak it with slobber as she gives it an enthusiastic lick that lets you know that you’ve long since passed the friendship test. You laugh and fish into your purse, pulling out a ziploc bag with a dog treat in it. At the sight of the treat, Pudding begins wagging her tail so hard she almost takes out her owner. You extend it to her and her giant tongue sweeps it up easily, and you watch it disappear into her gaping maw and she looks at you expectantly, her tongue lolling. “Sorry sweet girl, I don’t have anymore.” You say with a chuckle, reaching out to ruffle the fur on her head affectionately. She noses at your hand as if to say that all is forgiven. Finally, you turn to her owner who’s been watching the two of you fondly from where he’s casually leaning on the doorframe. “Hey.” You offer him.

“Hey, Bugs, you sure clean up something pretty.” You can’t help the flush that paints your cheeks at the compliment. You’re not wearing anything fancy by any means but you suppose the t-shirt and dress shorts are a far cry from the scrubs you wear at work.

“Thanks, you too.” He’s wearing a short-sleeve button-down and shorts of his own. The brace on his knee is clearly visible and you like how honesty looks in him.

“I’m glad you like it, I picked this shirt just for you. It really makes my great tits pop, don’t you think?” He puffs out his chest for emphasis and you want to die from mortification.

“Please forget I ever said that.” You plead.

Jake looks at you incredulously. “Of course not, Bugs. I don’t think I’m ever going to forget that.” He’s wearing a shit-eating grin. You scowl.

“Come on, Lola, let’s get going or we’re going to be late.” He laughs behind you as you turn to start heading to the car.

“Hey!” You don’t turn. “Bugs, where are you going?” You turn to see him still standing in the doorway, a confused look on his face.”

“To my car? Since I’m driving us?”

“Bunny you can’t possibly think we’re all gonna fit in there with my leg and Pudding.”

You glance from the pair in the house to your car and frown as you realize he’s right. Jake and Pudding join you and Jake nods at your car. “Pull out and I’ll open the garage and you can park in there. We’ll take the truck.” You look at him, absolutely flabbergasted.

“Jake, I can’t drive your truck!” He arches an eyebrow.

“And why not?”

“Are you kidding? It’s HUGE!” He chuckles, waggling his eyebrows at you.

“I’m sure you can handle it, sweetheart.” You feel your face flush at the innuendo.

“But you told me to remind you…” You try once more even as you feel your resolve slipping and start accepting the reality that you’re going to have to drive Jake’s behemoth of a truck.

He arches an eyebrow. “Remind me of what, Bunny?”

“You told me to remind you to never let me drive your truck.” You grumble as you unlock your car, getting ready to move it into the garage. He laughs at that and you try not to preen at the sound.

“That’s my Bunny, always so responsible.” He teases, patting your head gently. “Well now you’ve reminded me but my mind’s still made up, so hop to it, Bunny, and I’ll grab my keys. He ambles back into the house as you pull back out of the driveway, idling as the garage opens and you pull into the free space next to the truck.

Jake’s waiting for you, and he extends his hand to you, holding his keys. You hide your smile at the faded hockey stick keychain as you take them from him. Then you turn to face the beast, swallowing hard. Jake places a gentle hand between your shoulder blades, guiding you to the driver’s side. He pulls open the door for you and you gape at the distance from the ground to the driver’s seat. You’re about to make a fool of yourself but at least you aren’t wearing a dress. Before you can even attempt the climb, though, Jake puts his hands on your hips and lifts you into the driver’s seat effortlessly. “Oh.” It’s all you can manage as his hands disappear as quickly as they appeared. He helps you adjust your seat and the mirrors and while you still feel overwhelmed by the size of the truck compared to your little car, you start to feel slightly at ease, but that could be the warm smell of leather and the cologne you’ve come to recognize as Jake’s. Jake makes his way around the truck, opening the back door so Pudding can jump in, before getting in himself. You’ve started the car and are familiarizing yourself with the controls. You take a deep breath, sitting back for a second, your hand resting on the gear shift, ready to move it into reverse. Jake’s hand covers yours, squeezing gently.

“You’ve got this, Bunny. I trust you.” It’s those words that give you the courage to shift into reverse and back out of Jake’s driveway as he leans over to hit the garage door control above your head.

***

Thirty minutes later you’re making your way through another suburban neighborhood on the other side of town. While Jake’s neighborhood looked unassumingly middle class, however, this one is clearly home to families in a significantly higher tax bracket. It makes sense, given the fact that Maverick is a multimillionaire but it’s not like he rolls up to work in a limousine every day. Instead, he drives a beat-up Kawasaki and you’re pretty sure you’ve never seen the man wear a tie.

“Are Mav and Penny married?” Jake asks, his knees bouncing into the bottle of wine he has clutched in his left hand. You’d made a pit stop on your way, a tasteful and way too expensive flower bouquet in his other hand.

“No idea.” You say as you continue shamelessly ogling the real estate. “I don’t think I’ve seen a wedding ring, but I’ve never really looked.”

“Google doesn’t say he is.” You peek over to see the bouquet abandoned in Jake’s lap as he types into his phone, brows tight in concentration. “Have you met Penny?”

You shake your head before realizing he’s still looking at this phone. “No, I had planned to meet with her after the physicals were over to draw up individual nutrition plans for each of you. I haven’t run into her at the arena so the opportunity just hasn’t presented itself yet.” Jake nods absently, still scrolling.

“I didn’t even know we had a nutritionist.” He mutters.

“Holy shit.” He finally looks up as you murmur the words. The house ahead of you is gorgeous. It sits on top of a hill, nestled into a private culdesac. A massive yard wraps around the circular street, dotted with trees. A wide driveway leads up to what has to be a four-car garage. The house itself is a sprawling modern Victorian style complete with a circular pointed tower. It’s a house that looks both like it’s been transplanted from the northeast and right at home in Southern California. You’re both awestruck as you pull the car up the driveway and shift into park. You suddenly feel extremely underdressed as you take the bouquet from Jake’s lap and follow him up the pristinely paved walkway. As you climb up to the excessively large porch, you feel yourself relax. Up close the house is well-loved, with chipping paint and mud streaks far too old to scrub out. You smile softly at the thought of all the memories it must hold as Jake rings the doorbell.

A beautiful brunette woman answers the door, a big smile wide on her face. “Hey there! You must be Bugs and Jake. I’m Penny, it’s so nice to meet you both!” You go to shake her hand but she opts for a hug instead and she smells warm and homey in a way you can’t place. She leads the two of you through the house, taking the wine and flowers from each of you. The kitchen is a myriad of bright dishes and rich smells and you catch sight of Mav manning a grill through gorgeous wide windows overlooking a sprawling deck.

“Is there anything I can help with?” You ask as you watch Jake beeline for the back door to offer the same assistance to Maverick. Penny waves you off.

“No no, I’m pretty much done here, just getting things to the table. It’s so good to finally get to meet you, Bugs. I’ve been busy helping Ice with the administrative side of things so I haven’t been at the arena since you started. I look forward to working together.” She flashes you a motherly smile and you’re reminded of home.

“I’ve been meaning to reach out and introduce myself since I was hoping we could collaborate on getting the boys set up with individual nutrition plans but I figured it would be better to get their initial physicals out of the way so we had the most up to date information to work with. As a physician, I’m strongly against restrictive diets, especially for athletes, but so I think a more general nutrition plan would be a better approach.” Penny nods.

“Pete mentioned you’re extremely dedicated to your patients.” She gives you a conspiratorial smile as she directs her gaze out the window to where Jake and Mav are and you feel yourself flush even as your heart aches as your eyes latch on the knee brace.

“My first priority as a physician is always my patients and making sure they get the best possible care. The fact that there are physicians out there who put their own selfishness ahead of their patients kills me. Jake’s been hurt in a way that the Hippocratic oath should never have allowed.” You shake your head, your hands clenching on the chair you’re holding onto. “He put his trust in the people hired to prioritize his care and they betrayed him. I refuse to let that happen again.” Penny sets a gentle hand on your clenched one.

“He’s in good hands now.” You try to believe her, but the events from Cyclone’s office yesterday make that hard. A wet nose nudges against your hand and Pudding gazes up at you with worry in her eyes and you stroke her head softly. You’re saved from responding by Jake and Mav coming into the kitchen, arms laden with plates of meat. You dash to help them, taking a plate from Jake and giving him your best scolding look.

“SIT.” You pull out a chair, setting your hands on your hips. A thump across the room draws both your attention as Pudding sits. You snort a laugh before going back to glaring at Jake who’s still standing. “Pudding has been kind enough to prepare a visual aid, now if you don’t mind.” Jake rolls his eyes but sits all the same. “No unnecessary strain until we have a treatment plan in place, mister.” You give him a sympathetic look. You know how hard it is for athletes to give up control, this isn’t your first rodeo. “You’ll be back up and running in no time.” You say gently. “Baby steps, right?” He nods and you notice a softness in his eyes that you try not to think about any longer than you have to. You head back out with Mav to grab the last of the plates, while Jake chats with Penny as she brings dishes from the kitchen to the table.

As you’re all getting settled and starting to eat, Jake pipes up. “So how long have you two been married?” You fight the urge to snack him with the rib you’re holding. After the conversation in the car, you thought it had been evident that Penny and Mav are NOT married.

Maverick chokes on his wine and Penny laughs. “Oh, we’re not married.” Jake looks genuinely confused and you wonder if he’s maybe missing a screw.

“But all the family pictures in the hallway…” He trails off sheepishly. You’d barely been in the hallway for a minute or two, how did he notice family pictures, and get enough time to stare at them to conclude that Mav and Penny were married?

“Oh, that’s my daughter, Amelia, she’s from my first marriage,” Penny says with a chuckle. “We divorced a long while ago, before Pete and I got together.”

“And you two never got married?” Jake pushes and you wonder why he’s so curious.

“Well, that’s because, technically speaking, I’m still married.” Mav joins the conversation and Jake’s jaw drops so hard you’re surprised it doesn’t hit the table.

“You’re MARRIED?”

Maverick chuckles at Jake’s reaction. “Yup, a long time ago and we separated on good terms, but never finalized the divorce. There was never a reason to, so yeah I guess I’m still married.” He rubs the back of his neck, sheepishly.

“Who is she?” The question is out of your mouth before you can stop it. “Sorry, that was so intrusive you don’t have to answer that.”

Mav waves you off. “You probably know of her, actually. She’s an NHL coach too.” The pieces fall into place all too quickly and you find yourself blurting out.

“Dare Mitchell is your WIFE?” It’s not rocket science. There are hardly any female coaches in the NHL, and there’s only one with the last name, Mitchell.

It’s Jake’s turn to choke on his wine. “Dare Mitchell? You’re married to THE Dare Mitchell?” His eyes are wide.

Maverick chuckles.“The one and only.”

“Holy SHIT.” Jake sits back in his chair, shocked into silence. You don’t blame him. Dare Mitchell is the best of the best. She’s been coaching for the Pittsburgh Penguins for the last 30-some years and is responsible for leading them to nothing short of five Stanley Cup wins. Her nickname, Dare, stands for Definitive Authority on Rink Education, or Referee Ejection depending on who you ask. She’s a force to be reckoned with and one of your personal heroes. Sure you were a Stars fan but every self-respecting hockey feminist worshiped the ground she walked on. She’d been the first female NHL coach when she started as an assistant coach for the Philadelphia Flyers and she’d not only broken the glass ceiling but now even the most misogynistic cynic puts respect on her name.

It shouldn’t have been such a shock that she was married to Pete Mitchell. Their careers had overlapped during his brief time with the Flyers before transferring to Anaheim but most people tended to forget that part of Maverick’s career. With the exception of the event that led to his move to Anaheim in the first place. If anything had ever been public about his relationship with or marriage to his coach, that had probably been buried by the tragedy that occurred shortly after. And now they were separated apparently. You wonder when that happened. Dare Mitchell was infamous for the lack of information on her personal life. Plenty of men had jumped to labeling her as undesirable and “impossible to deal with” due to her lack of a partner and seemingly single status. When asked about it in interviews, while she typically ignored such blatantly sexist questions, she occasionally responded along the lines of placing her career first, but now you know otherwise.

“I can’t believe Dare Mitchell is your WIFE.” Jake has come back to the conversation. Mav looks mildly uncomfortable at all the attention and you feel the need to change the subject for his sake.

“So, Maverick you mentioned wanting to talk about our game plan going forward?”

“Right, yes.” He claps his hands, sitting forward and you all return to your food. “Bugs, first I want your personal assessment of Jake’s condition. I know you mentioned some of that in Cyclone’s office earlier, but I think we should go over it with Jake present.” You nod in agreement, wiping your mouth and taking a sip of wine to clear your throat.

“Jake, we talked about this briefly this morning but you need to stay off your leg as much as possible at least until we’ve gotten all the necessary scans and tests done. I’m in the process of contacting some colleagues to get those scheduled as soon as I can.” You had a sneaking suspicion of how well that was going to go but you didn’t have much time to dwell on it now, there was a bigger issue at hand. You hesitate, wondering if now is the best time to bring this up. “I wanted to ask whether you’d be comfortable with me reaching out to your former physician on the Stars to get your initial test results. I just want to see them so we can compare them and get a better picture of your situation and how it's progressed. I don’t expect them to be particularly compliant, but I’m planning to ask Zam for guidance on getting the files without having to get lawyers involved. That’s only if you’re comfortable with me doing that.” You swallow. You know Jake’s had a long day and you can’t imagine how tired he must be, you know how exhausted you feel.

He nods slowly. “Do whatever you need to do, Bugs. Like I said, I’m in your hands now. If you think it’s necessary, do it.” You give him a small smile as your heart squeezes at the faith he’s putting in you.

“Are you actually planning to sue your former physician and coach?” Mav interrupts.

“WHAT?” This is news to you.

Mav puts his hands up in surrender. “He mentioned it in Cyclone’s office when he threatened to sue you for negligence.” Jake makes a low noise that sounds like a growl at the reminder of the events earlier in the day and you flush slightly at the memory.

“Honestly, I think I kind of checked out during all that…” you say, averting your eyes to your hands where they're fiddling with a rib bone on your plate. Jake’s hand comes into view as he takes one of yours and gives it a gentle squeeze and your eyes almost pop out of your head as your brain short circuits. You’re frozen, mortified at his audacity to do that in front of two of your colleagues let alone HIS COACH. You pull your hand from his grip, in what you hope is at least a slightly dignified way, depositing both hands in your lap, clasping them tightly.

“I don’t know.” He admits. “I think it’s definitely something to consider. It depends on how much of a case I have. We’ll probably have to get that comparison between my records to know for sure. Legal stuff isn’t really my strong suit.” He shrugs.

“You should talk to Zam about it, she’ll be the best person to ask,” Mav suggests, a fond smile crossing his face at the mention of the team’s PR rep. Jake nods in agreement. “Bugs you were saying?”

“Oh right, well that means no practice for Jake. You can do upper body work but no leg stuff period. I also think we could talk to Cyclone about hiring you a driver for the foreseeable future-“

“Or you could just drive me.” Jake interrupts nonchalantly.

“What?”

He shrugs. “You drove me here tonight, why not? I don’t want you having to deal with Cyclone any more than you have to, and suggesting hiring another employee will probably piss him off.”

“What doesn’t?” Maverick mutters under his breath. “It’s not such a bad idea, though. You’ll both be working together almost exclusively since Jake can’t practice so this way you’ll always get in at the same time.” You consider throwing the rib bone at Maverick.

“See, Bugs, we’ve got Coach’s blessing, what do you say? I’ll throw in breakfast on me.” He waggles his eyebrows like he’s just made an irrefutable offer. You sigh, realizing this isn’t really up for debate anymore, and Mav has a point.

“As long as you’re ready on time. Three strikes and you’re out.” You give him a pointed look. Jake breaks into a huge grin, offering you a mock salute.

“Aye aye, cap’n.” You roll your eyes.

***

The sun has long since disappeared from the sky as you, Jake, and Pudding make your way back to the truck. You’re walking slightly behind him so you can observe his movement as he awkwardly shuffle-hops with the brace keeping his knee stiff. You have a good feeling about his scans. For an untreated grade three tear, he doesn’t seem to have too much of a problem getting around. Today was an overall success but it’s created a brand new problem. Jake may trust you now but now he’s crossing professionalism lines left and right and you can’t help the way your anxiety threatens to choke you at the idea of Cyclone getting the wrong idea. Not to mention the fact that your body seemed to have a mind of its own when it came to him. You’ve been out of the game for too long. So much so that your body reacts naturally to his touch. You’d thought you’d have no problem avoiding his advances given the precarious nature of your situation but here you were being betrayed by your own body and mind. And now he had talked you into spending even more one-on-one time together OUTSIDE of work. You needed to lay down some ground rules.

You approach the truck where Jake’s patiently waiting by the driver’s side door, holding it open for you. Your cheeks flush as he scoops you up and deposits you in the seat without a moment’s hesitation before handing you the keys and hobbling around the other side of the truck and letting Pudding into the back while you start the engine. You swallow hard, drumming your fingers on the wheel nervously as you back out of the driveway. The two of you wave to Maverick and Penny on the porch as you drive away. Not even five minutes pass when Jake breaks the silence.

“What is it?”

“What’s what?” You don’t take your eyes off the road, your fingers drumming harder.

“You’re nervous.” You finally turn to glance at him and he gives a pointed glance in the direction of your drumming fingers. You stop the motion immediately, hesitating before you say.

“We need to talk.” He nods, encouraging you to continue. “I appreciate you trusting me, Jake, I really do, but if we’re going to be spending this much time together especially with me driving you now, I need to set some ground rules.”

“What kind of rules, Bugs?” His expression is guarded when you glance at him. You sigh.

“Jake I realize things are going to be complicated because we’re simultaneously coworkers and you’re also my patient, but like I’ve told you, my first duty is always to my patients. That being said, I need you to understand that you’re my patient first and my coworker second. That relationship takes precedence for me, at least while you’re injured.”

“And what about our friendship?”

“What?” You’re caught off guard by his question.

“Where does our friendship fall into your list of priorities? I’m your coworker, I’m your patient, and I was starting to think I was your friend too.” He pauses. “Or was that an incorrect assumption?” Your heart skips and your breath catches.

“No, uh, I mean yes Jake I would say we’re friends… or at least on our way there.” You trip over your words as you struggle to focus on the road and Jake’s brazen words. “I want to be your friend.” The words escape against your better judgment and you see the faint smile that ghosts Jake’s lips. “But that’s going to have to be strictly outside of work. Look, I’m pretty sure Cyclone thinks we’re dating or halfway there because he’s kind of a paranoid control freak in case you haven’t noticed.” You give a nervous laugh. He doesn’t know the half of it. “And if he's convinced? That breaks my oath as a doctor, Jake. I won’t just lose my job, I could lose my license.” You swallow hard. “So if you could just…” you trail off, not knowing how to phrase it.

“Keep my distance.” He finishes.

“More like just keep things professional.” He chuckles at that.

“Bugs, all my previous physicians were old men. That’s never been a problem before.”

“Then pretend I’m an old man.” He barks a surprised laugh.

“Bugs.”

“Lola.” You turn to look at him as he grins and winks.

“You’re one smoking hot old man.” Your face flushes beet red and you whip your head back to the road, unable to look at him.

“Relax, Bunny, you did say you thought I had great tits this morning so I figured I’d even up the score before we go full professional mode.” You can hear his grin. You roll your eyes, your face still blazing.

You’re quiet for a while before you interrupt the silence “Thank you, Jake.” He waits so long to answer you start to wonder if he heard you.

“For what, Bunny?”

“For all of it.” You pause. “Especially for respecting my boundaries.”

“You heard me earlier. We’re a team. If you go, I go, so I can’t let you leave that easily, Bunny.” He pauses. “After all, I’m a fighter.” You smile at that.

“Yeah? Me too.” You give him a shy look and he returns it with one of pure warmth and the silence is comfortable as you drive him home.

[tropes-and-tales]

The gentle prompts are back! 🤗

Can I request for Lieutenant Bob Floyd the knuckles brushing against each other and person a getting shy? I think this with him is just perfect!

It’s Bob Floyd’s party:  just a low-key get-together at his small house near the beach.  The Daggers usually just meet up at the Hard Deck, but they take turns hosting these parties from time to time.  It helps build the rapport of their found family, though each and every one of them would scoff and deny it if it was put that way to them.

The parties are never just Dagger-exclusive.  Others flit in and out.  Rooster’s sometimes-girlfriend.  Nat’s best friend from college.  Harvard’s brother.  

Hangman’s cousin.

You come through San Diego often, and you always visit Jake.  Hangman is completely different when you’re around—downright gentlemanly, polite.  Almost human.

Bob can’t wonder too much at the change in Jake when you’re around.  Bob is usually too worried about the change in himself when you’re around.

It’s all confusing.  Baffling.  He’s never had a crush like this before, all these incongruent feelings.  Bob Floyd is naturally an introvert, yet when he knows you’re coming to visit, he feels a strange surge of excitement, of energy to see you again.  He feels nervous and brave at the same time.  Sick to his stomach and giddy to be near you.  The sight of you, the sound of your laughter—he wants to avoid you in case he says something stupid.  He wants to run to you.  Both in equal measure at the same time.

There’s no time to overthink it tonight.  It’s his party at his house, so he’s been in host mode:  refreshing ice, keeping an eye on the grill, making sure everyone is enjoying themselves.  He only gets to talk to you for a moment before Harvard is griping about being unable to find the game on Bob’s T.V….and when he returns moments later to resume his chat with you, he finds you gone.

Those incongruent feelings:  the unreality of seeing you in his home, sitting on his couch, eating off of his dishes….juxtaposed against how at home you look here.  Like you could live here.

He only catches sight of you here and there.  You tell the Daggers an embarrassing story about Jake and his awkward pre-teen years, and you’re rewarded by Jake putting you in a headlock and ruffling your hair until you shriek and plead for mercy.  You spend a long stretch of time chatting with Nat, the only two girls at this gathering, heads bent close as you keep your voices low. 

But then?  As the night winds down?

He thinks you’re gone.  Jake is nowhere to be found, but that’s typical—you usually rent a car when you’re in town on a visit, not wanting to be beholden to your cousin’s schedule or whims.  Rooster and Nat are gone, and Harvard and Yale are slowly making their way out the door too.  Bob sighs—the relief of an introvert whose social reserves are nearly spent.  And part of that sigh is frustration at having missed spending time with you.

Yet when he gathers up an armful of empty plates and takes them to the kitchen, he nearly drops them:  you’re standing at his sink, elbows deep in sudsy water as you wash up.

“Hey!” you say when you catch sight of him.  You turn your head and offer him a bright smile.  “Thought I’d help you clean up.”

Incongruous feelings:  shame at having a guest clean up at his party.  Delight to see you.  

Fear to be alone with you.  Happiness to be alone with you.

Bob splits the difference.  He makes quick strides over to the sink, stops short of easing the sponge out of your soapy hands.

“You’re a guest,” he chides softly.  “You shouldn’t be doing dishes.”

You elbow him, playful.  “Or if I help, it’ll take you half as long to clean up.”

“You’re a g-guest,” he repeats, stammers, but you ignore him and turn back to the sink of dirty dishes.

“I wash, you dry,” you tell him.  “It won’t take any time at all.”

Bob has seen Hangman plenty at the Hard Deck—he knows the man’s ego, big as a damned aircraft carrier.  He’s seen him turn on his charm, seen him turn the force of his good looks on unsuspecting women.  It must be something with the Seresin family, Bob thinks, like how near-sightedness runs through the Floyd’s.  Because you have something of the same sort of assured charm that Jake has, though you’re not so obnoxious about it.  

You’re just confident.  Sweetly dominant, and paired with your kindness, your thoughtfulness, Bob has no chance at all.

“Okay,” he replies.  He picks up a dish towel and stands beside you at the counter.

You wash, he dries.  He can’t think of a single interesting thing to say, but you don’t seem to mind.  You hum as you scrape the plates, then plunge them into the soapy water.  It’s weirdly intimate, this domestic task split between the two of you.  Bob has never done dishes with a woman, he realizes.  He could almost imagine you living here and doing this together every night—

Your knuckles brush against his as you hand him a rinsed-off plate, and Bob jerks away like he’s been burned.  You turn your head and glance at him, eyebrows lifted in a question, but you don’t say anything.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, and he curses the way he flushes, how his face turns bright red.  

“You’re fine,” you reply, just as soft, and you hand him another plate.  Your fingers brush again, and at least this time he doesn’t flinch away.

Over and over:  you work through the stack of dirty dishes, pass them off to Bob to dry.  Your fingers brush against his so many times he starts to wonder if it’s intentional.  But it can’t be, right?  You certainly aren’t drunk, and you’ve never seemed clumsy before.  

The moment stretches on and on.  The moment ends too soon.

You pull the stopper out of the sink and drain it, then you reach out and swipe the dish towel from where it hangs over his shoulder.  You smile at him as you dry your hands, your gentler Seresin charm on full display.

“See?  Took no time at all to clean up.  Now you don’t have to wake up to a sink full of dirty dishes.”

“I appreciate it, but my momma is gonna tan my hide when she finds out I let a guest clean up.”  It just slips out, the slight accent that usually embarrasses him, but your smile widens like it always does when the country slides into his voice.

“You tell your momma that you had no choice in the matter,” you say.  

He opens his mouth to tell you that Momma Floyd will still give him hell either way, but he never gets the words out.  In the span of a few seconds, you’re stepping closer to him, giving him a friendly hug—one of those embraces where you touch but not really, just a moment of standing in his space, one arm around his shoulders, the pat of your hand on his back.

It’s more touch then he’s ever gotten from you.  It’s not nearly enough.

“Good party, Bobby,” you say when you release him.  “Thanks for inviting me.”

And then you’re walking out of his kitchen, walking through his living room towards his front door.  He trails you like a love-sick puppy, and you turn back to face him as you stand in his doorway.

“I probably won’t see you before I leave, but I’ll be back in a few weeks,” you tell him.  “See you then?”

He nods, offers you a weak smile.  A few weeks?

A few weeks is an eternity.  A few weeks is no time at all.

Either way, he can hardly wait.

[weekendmaids]

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[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Starrrrr, my babe! Congrats on your 100 followers, that is amazing! You are amazing! IT'S ALL SO AMAZING! Happy squirrel and fellow CCS here. My request---Bradley (because DUH, it's me!), and a fluffy “You’re beautiful, you know that right?” moment because I'm feral over the idea of this man speaking these words to me. <3

Meer, my darling! Here's the fluffy Bradley Bradshaw fic you requested! Enjoy! This "You’re beautiful, you know that right?" moment is brought to you by the 1966 Ford Bronco MT drove in his first TG:M scene! 🥰 😘

The Mechanic

Cars. You love them. You also hate that you love them as much as you do. You’d taken over your grandfather’s small auto repair shop three years ago when the stress was too much for his body. Since then, you’ve been finding grease in places grease definitely should not be while slowly building your reputation amongst the car collectors in the greater San Diego area. You’re half under a mint-green Chevrolet Bel Air when you hear a car roll up into the shop’s lot. The engine sounds pretty good and you can hear the faint strands of music pouring out of the cab before it stops. Whoever it is will talk to your Grandad first.

Despite his ailing bones, and his trust in your abilities, your Grandad had still wanted to be involved with the shop. So the two of you had compromised. You’d do the work while your Grandad ran the front of the house. That way he could still talk to your customers about their vehicles without stressing himself out by trying to move heavy car parts. And, your grandma had shared in secret a few weeks after the arrangement started, that it got him out of the house and out of her hair!

It helped too, that your Grandad still had all of his contacts in the collectible car community. They were a godsend when you were looking for rare parts. The Bel Air, for instance that you’re under? You’d needed to source and build the entire engine from scratch and restore the exterior. The beautiful car had been rusting away in an old barn for years before the owners unearthed it and decided it needed to be restored. It was finally nearly complete and the engine purred like a kitten now that you’ve gotten it all hooked up. You are completing your final checks on the undercarriage when you feel a knock against your work boot. 

You roll out from under the truck to see your Grandad and what has to be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

“Hey, kiddo. This here is Bradley Bradshaw. He’s got a 1966 Ford Bronco which he’d like to get fully restored. Bradley, this is my granddaughter. She does the actual hard work around this place.”

Your eyes widen as you look at him. He’s wearing a garish Hawaiian print shirt over a white singlet, slim-fitting jeans and boots. He’s got a pair of aviators hanging from the neck and his arms are crossed against his chest, biceps bulging alluringly. He’s so clean that it has you reaching for the rag scrunched into your pocket so you can wipe as much grease from your hands as possible. 

You proffer your slightly cleaner hand at him with a sigh, introducing yourself by name this time.

“It’s nice to meet you. A ‘66 Bronco?” You whistle through your teeth at the thought. “Do you have it here with you? I’d love to take a look under the hood first. Then we can discuss what you’d like restored and how.”

“Sure. I drove it here today.” His voice is smooth and a little raspy. If you weren’t covered in grease and other unmentionable vehicle fluids you’d have swooned into his arms.

“Great! Bring it to the lift to the right. And we’ll get her hooked and take a look.” You’re smiling your best customer service smile and trying your best to hide the way you’re drooling at the sight of his ass when your Grandad elbows you.

“Kiddo. Keep your eyes on the prize. He’s a good man. But only once you’ve fixed the car. You know the first rule.” His voice is gruff and chiding as he squeezes your fingers.

“Yeah, gramps, don’t get distracted by the clients.” Your voice in turn is dismayed and small at the admonishment.

Neither of you can calm your joy when he pulls the car up to the lift, though. It’s a gorgeous machine, cobalt blue paint glistening in the late afternoon sun. 

“She’s beautiful, kiddo. Have fun!” Waving over his head, your grandfather retreats to the air conditioned office again.

“He’s right.” Your voice is reverent as you trace the sleek curves of the car. “Can I pop the hood, Bradshaw?”

At his nod, you prop the hood open, and take a look at the engine. It’s in way better repair than you would have expected. There are a few parts here and there which don’t look like originals, but on the whole, your auditory assessment from earlier holds up. This is a well taken care of car.

“Not bad, Bradshaw. Most of this engine is original?” You’re completely in mechanic mode as you grab a clipboard and start jotting down notes.

“Yeah, this car was my dad’s. He bought it before I was born and kept it in mint condition until he died. My mom took over at that point and then when I could drive, I did the same. Obviously she’s needed a couple of replacements and ‘66 Bronco parts in good condition are hard to find.” His face is soft and sad as he looks down at the engine. This car is important to him. You’re already resolved to track down as many parts as you can. And that’s what you and Bradley Bradshaw agree to; you’ll restore the Bronco and track down as many original parts as you can.

It takes you upwards of a year to finish the project. You’ve never felt so connected to a vehicle or its history. It’s become normal for Bradley Bradshaw to pop into the shop on his days off and to just hang out by the Bronco chatting with you as you and your staff work away. It’s harder and harder for you to keep your Grandad’s first rule. But you’re not distracted. You’re falling head over heels for the gorgeous, sweet, bear of a man with such an attachment to an old truck. 

Things boil to a fever pitch the day you finally fit in the final part of the car. Bradley Bradshaw has been on a ship for the better part of the past 3 months. Your chats about the Bronco have been taking place over video call and you’re not expecting to see him for two weeks. You’re just about to close the hood and start her up when you hear a voice that makes your heart skip a beat.

“That’s one beautiful car, doll.” You can feel the heat in your face at the endearment as you whip around. Sure enough, it’s Bradley Bradshaw clad in his khaki uniform.

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it? Want to start her up?” Your smile is soft as you see the joy in his face as you toss him the keys. He’s grinning boyish and sweetly at you as he hefts his body into the front seat and turns the key. Your breath is bated as you hear the engine turn over before it finally catches. Your gasp of relief at the purring motor is shadowed only by the whoop of pure glee that pours from his mouth.

“Doll! You did it! My dad’s car! It’s perfect!” You’re smiling too when he bounces up to you and holds his hand out. You can sense an unbridled energy coursing through his veins at the thought of taking the car for a spin. But things are quiet between you as he settles the bill in the office and you go about freeing the car from your work area. It’s not until he’s pulled out into the parking lot that you hear his voice again.

“Hey, doll! Now that I’m no longer a client, I need to tell you something.” His eyes glimmer in the sunlight as he looks at you. “You’re beautiful, you know that right? Let me take you out to dinner?”

“I’m covered in grease right now, Bradshaw! If you think I’m beautiful now, let me know what you think when I’m all cleaned up!” Your voice is teasing as he winks at you.

“I’ll think you’re absolutely beautiful no matter what. The Bronco and I will pick you up on Friday at 6 pm. No grease included. Bye, doll!”

Your smile is giddy and disbelieving as you watch the most gorgeous car you've ever worked on and its owner drive off into the sunset. Friday night is going to be a lot of fun.  

Want to request something for my 100 Follower Celebration? The guidelines are here! Please leave me a request in my inbox with your ask!

- XOXO Star

[roosterforme]

Airplane Mode Part 1 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley finds himself on a commercial flight with the cutest flight attendant in the world, he can't keep himself from flirting with you.

Warnings: Fluff, adult banter, swearing

Length: 4400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This is part 1 of 2! Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun!

Bradley was on his fourth deployment of the year, and it was only September. As he packed his flight suits and uniforms, he checked his boarding pass for the flight from San Diego International to Tokyo. His flight left in just three hours, so he needed to move.

The only way Bradley took commercial flights was begrudgingly. He much preferred his own Super Hornet, with his name emblazoned on the side, or his vintage Bronco. Nothing else felt as comfortable, as personal. But really, nothing was worse than a commercial airline.

He would probably have to sit next to someone who wanted to chat for the twelve hour flight. Or worse, get assigned the middle seat. But there wasn't really any other way to get him out into the western Pacific and onto the deck of the USS Nimitz in time for his surprise assignment. 

"God bless America," he muttered, rolling his eyes as he stuffed some clean underwear and his toothbrush into his bag. Then he locked up his house, unsure about when he would be back, and headed out in the Bronco.

Thankfully, his military credentials got him through the long security lines quickly, because he did not leave himself with very much time. He checked in with the airline and narrowed his eyes skeptically at the man working behind the desk.

"You've been upgraded to first class," the man told him.

"That seems suspicious," Bradley replied, earning a chuckle. "No, really. The Navy usually gives me the middle seat in the last row, right behind a screaming child. What gives?"

"Hmm, well, this flight is only at half capacity since it's a brand new itinerary. So we upgraded you, another military officer, and an elderly customer."

"And the screaming child?"

"Not upgraded that I know of, sir." 

"Thanks," Bradley replied with a nod as he scanned his boarding pass and made his way to first class. He had the window seat in the front row, so he stowed his carry-on bag and made himself comfortable while the other passengers took their seats. 

He could hear soft laughter coming from the curtained off area next to the cockpit, and a second later he was looking at a beautiful woman. 

"Welcome aboard, sir," you told him with a smile. "Can I get you anything before we take off?" 

Bradley swallowed hard and tried his best not to stare. "Uh, I'm fine," he managed to tell you. "Just....fine." 

"Right. Well, let me know if you need anything." 

You turned to greet another passenger, and Bradley found himself sitting up straighter as he blurted out, "Your name?"

You turned back to him and leaned his way. "Pardon?"

He met your eyes, and he grinned. "I need your name. You know, just in case I think of something you can get for me."

Your smile was more of a smirk this time, but you licked your perfect lips and told him what he wanted to know. Bradley tested your name out, and your smirk grew. "Yep. That's a good name."

You shook your head a bit. "You should get buckled in. I'll go over the exit row safety procedures with you in a few minutes."

"I can't wait," Bradley replied, and this time, when you turned away from him, he couldn't help himself. He looked at your body for a few seconds until he forced himself to face the front of the aircraft. He closed his eyes and counted to ten. This was going to be a long flight. 

He was lonely. It had been ages since he had dated anyone and quite awhile since he'd met a woman he even wanted to sleep with. That had to be why he was sweating a little bit right now.

Bradley buckled his seatbelt and tried not to watch you out of the corner of his eye. The sway of your hips when you walked was mesmerizing, as was the soft lilt of your voice. He listened to you charm every single person seated in first class, and he was already craving your attention again. 

When you came to a stop in front of him a moment later, he let his eyes travel from your sensible shoes up your bare legs, over your cute uniform dress, and up to your face. "Ready for your safety briefing?"

"Oh, absolutely," he said, his voice ridiculously needy to his own ears. 

You just smiled and gestured toward the handle to Bradley's right. "You are seated in my exit row. Can you verbally confirm for me that you are able and willing to help me in the event of an emergency?" 

"Definitely. I'd be happy to help you."

"Can you push, pull or lift at least fifty pounds?" you asked, your eyes taking in the bulge of his biceps and his broad chest. 

Bradley smirked and watched you lick your lips. "Sure can."

You pressed your lips together and eyed him briefly. "I don't know... are you sure you're strong enough to open the door?" Your voice was teasing, and Bradley swallowed hard as you shifted your weight from one leg to the other. 

"I'm strong enough to do anything you might want or need."

Bradley's grin grew as he watched your face light up, and the cutest giggle escaped your lips. "I'll keep that in mind," you told him with a nod before turning and disappearing behind that damned curtain. 

He rubbed his hands over his face before putting his phone into airplane mode. Flirting with you was pointless. He really shouldn't be doing it. But where the hell were the women who looked and sounded like you when he wanted to go on a date? Apparently they were thirty six thousand feet in the air, wearing tight navy blue dresses and ugly loafers. 

Bradley would do anything to be able to run into you at the Hard Deck. You probably didn't even live in San Diego though. And odds were good you were married or something. So he just settled back in his seat and watched the setting sun through the open window sash. Pretty soon he would be landing in Tokyo, he'd never see you again, and you would forget all about the guy who asked for your name and looked at your loafers.

Then, as if conjured by his imagination, you were standing in front of him again. This time you were folding down the seat that was used by flight attendants during takeoffs and landings. Bradley watched every move you made as you sat down facing him, your knees brushing against his as you settled into the seat.

"Sorry," you told him softly. Your perfect lips parted again before you added, "You must be tall. I don't usually have this problem." You were trying to scoot yourself back further in your uncomfortable looking seat, keeping yourself from touching him again as you buckled in. 

"I don't mind," he replied softly, repositioning his legs so that both of your knees were between his. 

Your eyes went a little wide as you whispered, "Okay," before clearing your throat. Bradley saw you glance at his thighs as he stretched his legs out a bit more comfortably, and then you immediately turned to look out the window as the pilot started to taxi toward the runway. 

The warm San Diego sunset had your skin bathed in orange light, making you look impossibly pretty, and Bradley was instantly regretting not bringing a book with him. No way he'd make it twelve hours in close proximity to you without embarrassing himself. 

"How tall are you?" you suddenly asked him.

He shrugged. "About six foot one inch, I guess."

"I'm sorry, I should have had you move to the aisle seat since it's empty. It's too late now, since we're about to take off, but you can move over later so we don't have this problem all night long."

Bradley shrugged again. "I wouldn't call it a problem. More like an added perk. I thought perhaps getting to sit by you was part of the upgrade to first class."

You kept eye contact with him but narrowed your eyes, and Bradley squirmed a bit in his seat. "You're flirting with me."

He chuckled. "Well, I'm trying. Based on your response, I must be doing a shitty job."

After examining his face for a few seconds, you sighed and looked out the window again. "No, you're doing alright. But I'm not allowed to flirt back. Whatever your name is."

"Bradley," he told you, holding out his hand. After you shook it, he said, "How about I do all the flirting, and you just pretend you're completely immune to me. Meanwhile, inside, you're totally falling head over heels."

You tried to hide your smile as the plane left the ground, and the jolt of excitement in Bradley's belly rivaled even the force of gravity. 

You didn't answer him, and you didn't look at him again, but Bradley felt your right knee bump against his leg as the plane gained altitude, and he heard you sigh. 

"Can you at least tell me if you'd flirt with me if I met you at a bar or something?" he asked after a while. 

You finally met his eyes just as the fasten seatbelt light was turned off, and you started to unbuckle your harness. 

"I'm afraid the answer to that question might sound as if I'm flirting with you." 

Bradley leaned forward as you stood and started turning away from him. "So is that a yes?"

You turned and looked at him over your shoulder, and you nodded. 

Bradley gaped at you, and he had to fight the urge to follow you behind the curtain this time.

"Fuck." He was absolutely squirming in his seat now. He could hear you and see your shoes, but you didn't emerge again for a while. And you didn't look at him as you took the dinner orders for everyone else in first class, leaving him for last.

Bradley told you what he wanted to eat, speaking slowly so he had time to look at you looking at him. 

"And would you like a drink? Maybe a cocktail or a beer? A glass of wine?"

As Bradley was just about to respond, you smirked at him. "You don't drink wine, do you?" you asked him.

"No, actually." He gave you a puzzled look.

You smiled at him. "I can guess what people are going to order with a scary level of accuracy. You like beer, specifically European imports. Stella? Maybe Heineken? And I think you also enjoy an occasional glass of scotch, neat. But you're also quite fond of "girly" cocktails, and you're not afraid to order them when you go out." 

"Holy. Shit."

You laughed at his response, and Bradley wanted to pull you down against him, listen to that laughter even closer. 

"Want me to make you a cosmopolitan?" you asked with a grin that had him practically stuttering. 

"Please." He managed to say that one word without too much trouble. You just nodded and strolled away from him again.

Bradley sat, impatiently waiting for you to reappear as he messed with his hair. He was really wishing he had taken more time getting ready. He was wearing faded jeans and a black tee shirt, cursing himself for looking like he dressed with no effort at all. 

He was absolutely going to try to get your number or give you his, and if he was going to get shot down, he liked to know he had at least put his best foot forward. 

You reemerged with a drink tray, and you took his breath away. He watched while you served everyone else, bringing him his martini glass filled with pink liquid last. 

"And a cosmo for you." 

Bradley took the drink and set it down on his tray table after taking a sip. "Delicious. Even better than my friend Natasha makes, and hers are great." 

You tucked your hands behind your back and asked, "Is she your girlfriend?"

"No. I am one hundred percent single," he told you immediately. "Maybe even more than that." 

The grin returned to your face, and Bradley was feeling ridiculously excited. 

"I'll bring your dinner out shortly."

"Wait, are you?" he asked, trying to keep your attention before you vanished again. "Are you single?"

You ignored him completely now, but you were still smiling. And you dropped off his dinner tray with nothing more than, "Enjoy your meal." So he ate his food and then you collected his tray and then he waited. 

He was pretty sure you'd have to return to your little fold down seat at some point during the evening. He was also pretty sure you'd have to stay awake all night. His plan was to wait you out. Beyond that he had no clue what he should do. 

But it was getting late now, and you were still somewhere up behind that curtain. He'd long ago finished his drink, and he had the brilliant idea to ask you for another one. He pressed the button to call for you, and then you were there.

"What can I do for you?"

He smiled so hard. "Are you telling me that anytime I push that little white button, you'll appear?" 

You had to hide your laughter behind your hand. "Yes. That's literally my job."

He shook his head slowly. "You've given me too much power. Will you make me another cosmopolitan?"

"Of course."

And when you brought him a second pink drink a few minutes later, he asked, "Are you allowed to sit with me again? In your little fold down seat?"

You chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, pretty soon I'll be sitting down for a while. You can move to the aisle seat whenever you want." 

But Bradley didn't move. He wanted to be as close to you as he possibly could. He just didn't realize that you might find that creepy or annoying until you were headed for your folding seat. 

"You're not moving?" you asked softly, just as the captain dimmed the overhead lights.

"I'm sorry, I can move so you have more room," he said, scrambling to unbuckle his safety belt. God, now he looked like a fucking creep. 

But you just shrugged at him. "You can stay in the window seat if you want. If you don't mind me bumping you."

Then you folded the seat down once more and took a seat before he could move. So he buckled himself in again, and let you get settled so that your knees were tucked neatly between his long legs. 

Just as you were starting to buckle your harness, the captain flew through some turbulence, and Bradley felt your hands come to rest on his thighs as you were bumped out of your seat. 

"I'm so sorry," you whispered, pulling your hands away like you had been burned. "I didn't mean to."

Bradley certainly didn't mind. He'd be more than happy to have your hands all over him. But of course he wasn't about to voice that idea.

"It's okay," he promised, meeting your eyes in the dim light. Another turbulent patch had you reaching for him again, but once you had your harness clasped closed, you wouldn't even look at him again.

"Sorry it's so turbulent," you managed to say, looking across the aisle at another passenger who had fallen asleep. "Usually I have someone losing their mind when it gets like this. But you seem very relaxed."

Bradley shifted in his seat, and his leg bumped yours. "I should hope so. I'm a pilot."

Your eyes snapped back to meet his. "Really? Which airline?"

Bradley just chuckled. "US Naval aviator. Top Gun."

"Oh," you said with a soft laugh. "I should have known. All you guys have a certain look."

Bradley licked his lips and crossed his arms. "What kind of look?"

You cradled your face in your palms. "Pretend I never mentioned it."

He shook his head. "I don't like pretending."

Sighing, you told him, "Aviators are always... big... strong looking. And overly confident."

"Huh," Bradley grunted. He supposed if you flew a San Diego route, you must see your fair share of aviators. You must also get hit on by most of them. God, you were beautiful.

"You're not like most of them, though," you added quickly. "Occasionally I have to excuse myself if they get crude."

Bradley's brow furrowed. "Crude?"

You shrugged again, checking to see if anyone had pushed their call button. "Yeah... it happens sometimes." 

"I don't like the sound of that," Bradley growled. 

But you just laughed lightly. "What are you planning to do about it? Follow me back and forth between San Diego and Tokyo and flex your muscles every time someone calls me baby or touches my butt?"

"Shit," Bradley whispered. "That really happens?" This information was swirling around his mind, and it made him feel sick. You were just doing your job; you didn't deserve to be harassed by aviators or anyone else. 

"You'd be surprised." Another bump of turbulence had your leg rubbing against his. 

Eventually Bradley whispered, "I would, you know."

You just looked at him for a few seconds. "You would what?"

Bradley smiled at you, and your lips curled into an involuntary smile as well. "Fly back and forth. Between San Diego and Tokyo. Flex my muscles and tell the assholes to leave you alone."

As you bit your knuckle to try to stifle your laughter, Bradley could practically feel how good it would be to have your teeth grazing his flesh. But the idea that you sometimes had guys giving you unwelcome touches had him ready to go through the roof. 

Then his mind shifted back to something you said. You flew from San Diego to Tokyo all the time. 

"Do you live in San Diego?" he asked quickly, and you bit your lip a little nervously, like you didn't want to answer him. 

But you searched his face in the darkness and finally said, "Yeah. I do."

Bradley's heart was thudding in his chest. He didn't want to press his luck. 

"What has you flying commercial to Tokyo? You must hate this! Are you being deployed?" you asked, drawing his attention to your words.

"Yeah. Hopefully a very short one. It's a special assignment."

Your smirk was back, even though he could barely see it in the dark. "Top Gun. Special assignment. First class upgrade. Sounds very exciting."

Bradley chuckled. "Listen, the best part of this whole thing was getting to sit with you between my legs.... Oh, God. Oh, no! I didn't mean it like that!" 

What the fuck had he just said?!

Bradley was frozen in panic with his hands halfway to his face, but you were laughing hysterically now. He watched you press your lips together to try to keep quiet as you shook with laughter. 

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to say that! I just...I'm really enjoying sitting here with you, that's all!" 

You waved your hand in the air and managed to say, "It's okay, Bradley. Oh, you look completely mortified!"

"I am completely mortified. You'll never let me have your phone number now!"

Then you smiled at him, but your eyes looked sad. "I can't go giving my phone number out to all you Top Gun guys."

Bradley ran his fingers through his hair. "Shit."

You sighed and tapped his knee with your fingers until he was looking at you again. Bradley let his hand settle just above his knee, and he wanted to unbuckle himself and reach for you when your fingers touched his.

"When do you fly back?" you asked quietly

"Unsure," he replied. "No return ticket yet."

"Hm," you hummed softly. You ran your fingertips along his, and he'd had just about as much as he could handle.

"Please, tell me your schedule. Something. Anything. I need to see you again."

You were quiet for so long, Bradley let the back of his head hit the headrest. You'd withdrawn your hand from his body, and he was so disappointed. 

"I usually fly overnights on the way back to San Diego as well."

He leaned closer to you again. "Which days?"

"It varies," you said, glancing across the aisle and undoing your harness. "But I'd like it if you were on my flight again." You stood to take care of a different passenger, and Bradley's eyes tracked you in the darkness. 

He was done for. Over the next several hours, he got to feel your body bump his every time you got in or out of your seat. He could smell your perfume or shampoo whenever you glided past him. He strained to hear every word that you spoke, whether to him or another passenger. But when you were seated in your seat, you and he exchanged little stories and flirtations. 

One time he even reached across and folded the seat down for you to sit. "Handsome and mannerly," you muttered as you buckled in. 

"I thought you told me you weren't allowed to flirt back," he commented as the sky was starting to lighten outside his window. 

You met his eyes and grinned. "A girl can only take so much."

"Are you single? You never told me. Please don't devastate me right now," his voice took on a teasing, pleading tone that made you laugh again.

"Yeah. I'm single. It's impossible to date with this job, honestly."

Bradley's heart soared like the airplane he was sitting in. You lived in San Diego. You were single. You were sexy and appealing. 

"Guys always think I'm going to cheat on them. But you want to know what I actually do in my hotel room on my overnights in Tokyo?" 

"Tell me."

"I eat the best sushi in the world and watch this one Japanese soap opera with the subtitles on. I am completely addicted to it."

"Jesus. I can get behind that one hundred percent. When I'm deployed on land, all I end up doing is eating the local foods. And I love sushi. Would be nice to have someone to call and talk to about it. I'd even be willing to get caught up with this Japanese soap opera so we could discuss it." There he said it. He was too afraid to be more explicit than that. 

You eyed him up and down, your body still except for the rise and fall of your chest and shoulders as you breathed. "I think-"

Your words were cut off by the sound of the fasten seatbelt light being turned off. Immediately you were unbuckling again and folding the seat up. "I think I need to start the breakfast service."

Now you looked flustered as you vanished behind the curtain. Bradley waited and waited for you to return. He could smell fresh coffee brewing, and his stomach started growling. The sun rose over the Pacific Ocean outside his window, and he could see islands in the distance, but he did not want this flight to end yet. He hadn't slept all night, but he would gladly stay up another twelve hours talking to you if you'd let him.

"What would you like for breakfast?" you asked him as you started taking orders. 

"Black coffee and a muffin."

"That's it?"

"Yeah," he replied. "I'm planning on finding some sushi as soon as we land. You could join me?"

You bit your lip and shook your head. "Sounds appealing...but I'm working a turnaround."

"Right," Bradley rasped. So he watched you work, serving everyone with a smile, helping with whatever was needed. He ate his muffin and drank his coffee quietly. And when the captain announced the final descent into Tokyo, you took your seat across from him one last time. 

You were both silent, just looking at each other until one of you inevitably let their gaze fall to the other's lips. Then you would both look away until drawn back in to let it happen over again. 

As the wheels touched down on the runway, and the sound of the wings dampening the air flow took over the small space, Bradley leaned forward. "Can I give you my phone number? Just in case you ever want to watch Japanese soap operas or eat subpar San Diego sushi with me?"

You smirked, but after a few seconds you nodded slightly. "Just don't hold your breath that I'll use it, okay? I'm basically never home. I can't even get a cat, let alone go on a date. And you would get tired of my schedule. I can guarantee that."

Bradley listened to your words, although he didn't agree with them. But he pulled a pen out of his backpack and wrote his first name and his phone number on the beverage napkin he still had. When he handed it to you, he watched you look at it before folding it in half and tucking it into your pocket. 

And then you were up, helping all of the passengers unload from the aircraft. He watched you pull luggage down for the first class passengers before sending them on their way, but he didn't move yet. He sat for nearly a half an hour, until everyone else had unloaded and the captain and co-captain had exited the cockpit and came to stand amongst the flight attendants. But you had looked at him as often as he had been looking at you. 

Now that he was the last one onboard, he stood, watching you examine his height and entire body for the first time. 

"Fly safely," you told him with a smile. 

"You, too," Bradley replied. "I'm going to be hoping I manage to get on one of your return flights. Hoping so hard." Bradley's heart was pounding again as you gave him a little nod before he walked out of the plane and made his way onto Japanese soil. 

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

Thank you for reading this one! Please leave some love and stay tuned for the conclusion! And thanks to @bradshawsbitch for sharing her knowledge of life as a flight attendant!

PART 2

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[books-are-escapes]

you in a honky tonk - j. s.

word count: 3.5k

A/N: hey y’all! thank you SO SO MUCH for all the love on my last little story. it means the world 🥹 i literally read and reread this one probably 10 times, i wanted it to be good. this song is one of my favorites. i hope y’all love this one because two-stepping and dancing is my favorite thing ever 😌

“come on sweet girl! i'm ready to go find me a man!” my best friend, emma, yells at me from across the house. i laugh lightly, holding my mascara wand away from my lashes. “yeah, yeah, one second dear.”

i add a swipe of gloss before checking myself over and adjusting my shirt. my jeans hugging my butt just right, my hair curled away from my face, i felt good and i looked good.

our boots thumped on the concrete as we walked into the hard deck. we may not have been dressed “properly” for san diego but it’s who we were, boot-stompin’, jean-wearin’, country gals.

heads turned the minute my friend and i walked in. i think they all looked at her, she’s quite the sight with her long legs and pretty blonde hair.

we both walked to the bar and were greeted by an older woman. she had the sweetest eyes and the most genuine smile. she introduced herself to us as penny.

emma and i picked out a table and simply sat, she and i chatted about things happening in our lives.

as she was telling me about her cosmetology school adventures, i was actively glancing around. i caught sight of a fine looking man. he wore a t-shirt tucked into jeans and boots. his hair swept backwards in a clean swoop. as he talked to his friends and shot pool, his arms drove me crazy, the way his biceps bulged and flexed with every move he made. he was good-looking and he knew it too.

my friend hit my arm, knocking me out of my trance. “go talk to him, for the love.” i blushed, “he’d be more into you.” she rolled her eyes, “you know i'm not into pilots. go get him. i think he’d be more into you.” i made a bit of an odd expression, my teeth gritted, my eyebrows furrowed and i let out a little ‘tsssss’ of air through my teeth. “i don’t know…” “y/n, he’s fiiine! go!” “will you come with me?” she laughed, “sure.”

i ran through in my mind how i could casually sneak into their conversation. right as we arrived to the pool table, the attractive one i came for locked eyes with me. man, he was better looking the closer you got. “care to play honey?” a couple of his buddies snickered, i didn’t like it already but i sure liked him. “i’ll have a go dear. though i don’t know that i'm very good.” he smiled, why was it so straight? and why was it whiter than the sun? “that’s alright darlin’, i can show you a thing or two.” i know he was being an ass just because. my red flag radar was beeping but i didn’t care at this moment. his bright, sage green eyes and swan white smile kept me in place at this bar in front of this man and his friends. i felt the need to knock him down a few.

i was handed a pool cue by the only other female in the bunch, she had kind eyes and still had her uniform on. it read, ‘trace’. “don’t let him get to you, he’s got a big head.” i laughed lightly as the handsome stranger gestured with his arm, “ladies first.” i nodded once, before lining up my shot. i sunk one in right off the break, i made three more into the pockets. mr. good-lookin’ looked a little nervous. he bent over the table, lining up a shot, i saw the wrangler logo on his jeans and my breath caught a little. a man of good taste, i’d hate to make him lose. oh well!

he missed his shot. i bit my lip to hide my smile.

i ended up beating the not-so-cool casanova, he put up a good fight, he only had two balls left on the table. after i won, he shook my hand. “good game darlin’. the name’s jake seresin and i usually don’t lose.” i raised one eyebrow, still shaking his hand. “well my name’s y/n y/l/n and i usually don’t lose either.” he chuckled, “alright y/n, care for a rematch?” “i’d love to beat you again mr. seresin.”

i heard the girl named trace say, “someone as sassy and as cocky as hangman? i can hear the bells already.”

i beat jake again, smiling proudly at my efforts. “well thanks for letting me kick your butt jake, i’ll see you around?” i looked up at him, he was looking at me too. “yes ma’am. you sure will.” his smile seemed to never leave his face. my heart fluttered.

emma and i had decided to call it a night, mostly because we wanted margaritas, chips and queso before going home. we giggled about the cute aviators and i kept thinking about jake. not just his butt in those jeans, but the way he eyed me and the way his smile took over his whole face.

the next night we went back out, i was hoping jake would be there. my friend and i had gone to the bar. as i was getting out my cash, “i got this one sweetheart.” i felt a large body to my side, i turned and saw jake. “figured i should give you something to pay you for kicking my butt last night.” i smiled at him. “thank you dear.”

my best friend and i sat at the same booth, i had a perfect view of the pool table again so i got to watch jake… again. he kept looking up and over at me but by then i’d have already looked away. it had been probably an hour, my friend and i had gone out and danced a few times and were taking a break for right now.

“hey y/n/n?” “yes dear?” “that one guy… jake?” “yeah?” “he’s walking over.” i took a drink right as he got to our table. “can i take you for a spin miss y/n?” i felt my cheeks get real warm. “why not?” i slipped off the chair and jake led me to the floor. his right hand rested on my hip, while his left held my hand.

“can i just say? this neon light is making you look even more gorgeous tonight.” “is that right mr. seresin?” he laughed. “just call me jake, sweetheart.” “alright jake.” with every shuffle we made around the dance floor, his hand would slide further around my back, pushing me closer to him, not that i minded. his cologne wrapped me up in a sweet tornado.

we two-stepped for a couple songs before he called it to take a short break. he came and got me again for a few more songs. we warmed up more and more to each other. his laugh became the new song i wanted to keep on repeat and he certainly was not as arrogant or off-putting as he seemed to be last night. at the end of the night, our bodies were practically molded together because we danced so close.

“let me walk you two out.” jake had said, referring to emma and me. we happily agreed. his hand was on my back the whole way to the car. emma shot me a quick wink before getting in and closing her door.

jake smiled at me, “what do you say i take you on a date?” i slid my hands into my pockets and pressed my lips together, looking away before locking eyes with his pretty green ones. the wind blew a bit, messing up my hair and pushing it into my face. something about a summer breeze to make you fall in love. a smile spread across my cheeks, “i say it sounds like a fine idea lieutenant.” “good, i like the sound of that. since you’re such a wonderful dance partner, how about we get dinner and then i'll take you to an actual country bar and i can show you how a real man should dance a woman.” his smirk was more of a smolder, not arrogant but he knew i’d say yes. “that sounds lovely jake.”

his smirk changed to a grin. his hand moved to his pocket to take out his phone and ask for my number. after making sure we could text one another, he leaned in close. “i can’t wait to see you in a honky tonk sweetheart.” his voice was even better when it was low, my heart was racing. i wanted to kiss him so bad but i never kiss until after a first date.

he had placed one hand on my waist which sent my stomach on a roller coaster. his lips were awfully close. i set my hands on his chest, his strong one, mind you. “i don’t kiss until after the first date honey bunch.” an almost evil grin bloomed across his face. “a woman with boundaries, that gets me excited. i'll pick you up at 6:30.” his face was still close and i could smell his minty, beer laden breath. my heart was itching to go for a run. he gave my waist a small squeeze. “until tomorrow, miss y/n.” he gave me a soft kiss to the cheek before he smiled, winked and walked away. i let out a breath i had been holding before getting into the car. i slid the key in and turned on the air conditioner, not just because it was summer. emma turned down the radio so she could listen to everything i told her. we squealed at the exciting bits.

we rode back to the apartment, a giddy daze filled the air as we sang along to the music blasting on the speakers. i wanted it to be tomorrow night. emma was more excited than me, she’d already been through my closet by the time i got my shoes off. “i’d rather spend tomorrow doing this.” i groaned, wanting to just lay down and read my book. she rolled her eyes, clicking her tongue, “but like… you’ll have more time to make yourself up if you pick your outfit now.” she rolled her wrists around for emphasis. i sighed in defeat, when she wanted something, she got it.

the rest of the night and the next day went by like molasses in december, i couldn’t contain my excitement. i was ready to see jake again. i sat in front of my mirror, applying gentle makeup on my face. emma was curling my hair, insisting she knew the best way to do it. after thirty minutes she was done and i was too. i stood in front of my full length mirror, checking myself out. i'd put on some bell bottom jeans, i had my cutest pair of square-toe boots on and i had one of my nicer, more flowy shirts on. 6:30 came and our doorbell rang. emma let out a short squeak, “he’s hereeee! want me to get the door?” i laughed. “no, i got it. thank you though.”

he did not disappoint me tonight. he was wearing a pearl snap shirt, tucked neatly into his jeans, he had a cowboy hat on and the best part, he brought me a bunch of flowers. i pouted, “jake.” i drug out his name with endearment. “why did you get me flowers?” his tone was so darn sweet, “a beautiful date deserves beautiful flowers.” his overconfident demeanor had been tucked away, replaced by this country gentleman and i loved it. “let me get these in a vase real quick. follow me dear.” he stepped inside and slipped his hat off as he followed me to the kitchen.

he took a seat on one of our barstools as i trimmed the stems and put the powder in the water. “so lieutenant, where are you taking me this evening?” he smirked, “that, darlin’, is a surprise.” i grinned, “okay, fine.”

after i finished trimming the flowers, i'd slid the vase to the middle of the counter, “shall we?” he smiled his toothpaste-advertisement-perfect smile, “after you m’lady.” i giggled, yelling out a goodbye to emma.

he led me to his silver ford f-150. he even got my door. this man is earning so many brownie points right now.

he set his hat on the dash, “are you alright with the windows up? i know you did your hair all pretty for tonight.” i felt my heart jump, “as long as you don’t mind.” he backed out of my driveway, “gotta keep our hair beautiful somehow.” his hand rested on the gear shift, how badly i wanted to take his hand and feel the veins that run along his arms or rest my elbow on the console and wrap my hands around his biceps.

he drove us to a fairly fancy steakhouse and my mouth fell open. “jake… this is too much.” “sweetheart, it’s a first date. i wanna take you to this nice place.” i blushed and clasped my hands together. he slid out of his truck, grabbed his hat, while slipping it on his head he walked around to get my door. he offered a hand and the moment our fingers touched i knew i was going to die and go to heaven tonight. his hand found its way to my back as we walked into the restaurant. jake gave them his name and we were led to our table.

dinner was fantastic, jake could actually focus on something other than himself which i greatly appreciated. considering all i saw of him the night we first met was “the jake show”. our conversation flowed smoother than a river. he even insisted on paying. "you’re doing so much, let me.” i complained. “no ma’am. it’s not your job to pay on a date with me.” he assured me with his winning smile. i felt my knees grow weak, had i been standing i may have stumbled. my heart had officially been won over by this naval aviator whom i met only two days ago.

“shall we my dear?” he asked. "let’s go!” i responded, maybe a little too ecstatically. jake was perfect, all around, all over, just perfect. from his smile, to the way he talked, to the way he carried conversation, to the way he stared at me like i was the most interesting and important thing in the world and simply how kind he was.

he’d told me, during dinner, how he had gotten his callsign. i understand why that could cause some tension with his team, but the man in front of me tonight had slipped off his callsign and that part of him. this side of jake is one that everyone should get to know.

he drove us to the bar. i'd gotten a bit brave by reaching for his hand as he drove. he didn’t say anything, his smile said it all. i loved how heavy his hand felt in mine. i placed my other hand over the top of his and held our locked hands on my lap for the rest of the drive there.

we got in through the door of the dance hall and jake asked if i would like a drink, "maybe later.” jake smiled before leading us to a table. we sat through the current song and conveniently enough, the next song was a slower one. "time to show ‘em what we’re made of.” his grin was so smooth and sweet. i took his outstretched hand and he led us to the floor. his hand rested on my waist while my hand wrapped around his shoulder. i laid my cheek on my hand, trusting he wouldn’t run us into anyone. his hand slid around, keeping my body close to his. he squeezed his fingers on my waist which sent tingles along my back. his head dropped a little and rested against mine. "this is really nice.” i commented. he let out a small chuckle. "nicer than i’ve had in a really long time y/n.” i smiled. my heart was racing, i knew it was quite early but i couldn’t help myself, “i really like you jake.” his head lifted off of mine and, for a moment, i feared i said the wrong thing. i gave him a side glance since my head still rested on my hand, his smile was so big. before laying his head on mine he kissed my cheek. “i really like you too y/n.”

as the song finished, he made me do a slow twirl, before bringing me in for a deep dip. his hand grabbed under my knee and his arm held me up. he looked so good in this moment, staring down at me with his sweet eyes. i looked at his hat, "may i?” “someone’s gotta know you’re mine. but i ain’t taking you to bed until i marry you and i do not fight women.” i giggled, slipping his hat off of his head and onto mine. “i'm glad i can be an exception.” he brought me back to a standing position and we waited a brief moment for the next song.

jake and i literally danced the night away. he was really, really good. he flipped, dipped and spun me so much i thought my body might be all out of line.

we got into the truck once more and he drove me home. he initiated holding my hand this time and i felt my stomach drop a bit. i rubbed my thumb on his as i laid my head on his bicep. my free arm reached across and i wrapped my fingers around the crook of his elbow. i took in a deep breath, savoring the car freshener scent that enveloped the space.

jake pulled into my driveway and shifted his truck into park. he looked over at me with a smile. “i had a really good time tonight jake, thank you.” “well thank you for keeping up with me.” i laughed lightly, that man would not stop dancing.

i opened my door and hopped down, i heard his door close as well. "now just what do you think you’re doing?” i was really confused, "what?” “get back in the truck.” i picked up, considering he’d been doing it all night. i opened the door, climbed in, situated myself and pulled the door shut. jake made a dramatic step and opened the door for me. "that’s better.” i giggled and his smile shone in the night.

“let me get you to the door too.” “you don’t need to.” “yes i do.” i think i actually swooned. we took a few steps before getting to my front door. there was a near-awkward pause. "thanks again jake, i'd love to do it again.” he smiled and said the same.

he stepped closer to me and i knew exactly what was happening. i didn’t want it to stop. his minty fresh breath mixed with a little beer fanned gently over my face.

“now that it’s the end of our first date,” his voice was so quiet and gentle, "can i kiss you?” i wanted to melt into a puddle right there. "yes, please lieutenant.” his big hands held my face, his lips were right there, then the door swung open and emma squeals. "how’d it g– oh!” i jumped out of his grip. jake sighed, i blushed and whined, “emmaaa” “shit! sorry!” she closed the door. i laughed and jake did too.

i turned to look from the door to him, "where was i?” one hand held my cheek again, tilting my face up towards his. the other was secure on my waist. i had my hands on his waist as well. time felt antagonizingly slow in the period between my eyes closing, our noses touching and finally his lips brushing mine. it was that gentle touch, then i moved my hands to his chest and kissed him. i kissed him like it was my first time. his kiss would melt chocolate, it felt so good.

he pulled away and i followed briefly. he chuckled at my action. "already wanting more, huh?” i giggled. "shut up and kiss me again.” one hand slid from my waist into my back pocket before his lips pressed to mine once more. i wrapped my arms around his neck and he leaned in so far that i had to lean back.

he let go and our faces separated, just barely within focus of each other. i licked my lip, eyeballing his some more. “i better get home. maybe i can take you dancing again next weekend.” “or… we could make dinner here tomorrow night and dance a little all over the kitchen, because i don’t think i can wait that long before getting to kiss you again.” “i would love that darlin’.” we stood upright before he gave me a short peck.

i didn’t want him to leave. i opened my door, turned, and said bye. "goodbye y/n.” he smiled once more before turning and walking back to his truck, getting inside and going home.

A/N: i hope you all liked it!! one thing you guys should know is i love writing little stories based off of songs and i love love love country music. love you all! ☺️

also, 1,000% think that jake would drive a 2018 silver ford f-150 😌

[bobgasm]

present day | the chest [01/04]

pairing: robert “bob” floyd x reader word count: 2062 warnings: loss, grieving, backstory,

summary: in which you find some old letters while cleaning

author’s note: sorry this took so long, i wrote a 15k oneshot that consumed my life momentarily

the chest | sincerely, | the namesake

The house was quiet when you arrived just before nine. Thankfully, it didn’t stay quiet for long. You set up your speaker, played the top 100, and got to work.

You’d always hated cleaning, but found it calming and therapeutic when you were stressed. Your mum had always sounded crazy when she said it was therapeutic, but now you were a firm believer in her method to madness.

Your dad and his siblings had been busy over the last couple of weeks trying to pack up the house. They’d gone room by room sorting and organizing your grandpa Michael’s belongings. Getting rid of old bedding or donating old clothes and furniture. The house was now bare, aside from the last few pieces of furniture that your dad would be taking to your place in the coming days.

Great-grandma June had been a spitfire of a woman. Growing up, she’d told you stories of her childhood. How her family had immigrated from Ireland in the early 1930’s. How she’d met her husband not long before he got drafted to fight in the war. How they relocated from Boston to San Diego when she was pregnant with your grandfather, Michael. 

She’d been your best friend when you were younger. You always loved going to her place to bake cookies or help her in the garden. She’d never seemed old to you. Always keeping up with you and your siblings whenever you went around to visit. 

When she passed away in early 2016, it had been a shock to everyone. Her son, your grandpa Michael, had moved in with her in her final days, and once she passed, he had to reason to leave. He missed his mum. 

Now he was being moved into a care home not too far away, and the house was being stripped and cleaned for auction. He needed the money from the house to pay for his stay at the care home, and while this house held memories you’d cherish forever, you knew you’d still have them. Even if you didn’t have the house.

You started cleaning in the kitchen and slowly made your way through the rest of the house. Making sure every room was spotless before heading up to the attic to make sure nothing else had been left there.

There were a few boxes of board games and a chest with old toys. You took them back downstairs and put them in your car, figuring you’d ask your dad what you should do with them later. Just wanting to get them out of the house for the time being, since the agents would go through tomorrow to take pictures for the listing. 

You gave the attic one final sweep after dusting and found a small chest tucked away near the overhang of the roof. You almost missed it, but it looked out of place. Carefully, you pulled it from its spot and opened it, sitting on the floor as you pulled the stack of letters from inside.

The papers were frail and wilting around the edges. Some of the writing was illegible, but from the few you could read, you wondered who Bob and Evelyn Floyd were. Were they friends of Michael’s, or of June?

The first letter was dated 1944, from Bob Floyd to his darling Evelyn. He expressed his fears, his sorrow at the loss of his brother, and his elation for their expected baby. 

You swiped at your eyes after finishing the first letter, and was already picking up the next. You felt weird for reading their private letters, but why were they in the attic of your family’s home?

The next letter was one that Evelyn had written back. Her words were sweet and expressed just as much sorrow and elation. Asking Bob if they could name their child after his brother if the baby was a boy, or if he liked the name Louise if they were a girl.

Your heart felt heavy as you opened the next letter, almost laughing as Bob told Evelyn the story of how he got his call sign, Pirate. Because he was nursing a little bird back to health and it sat perched on his shoulder while he taught. But then the tears were back as he pondered if he’d be a good father, before professing he couldn’t think of any better names for their baby then their own. Evie Louise, or Robert Lonnie Floyd.

By the time you reached for the next letter, the tears rolled down your cheeks with no intervention from you. Even if you wanted to stop them, stop reading the letters, you couldn’t.

It was when Evelyn wrote about your great-grandma June that you sobbed. Placing a hand over your mouth as you read how Evelyn watched Amelia while June was in hospital giving birth to Michael. 

They’d become friends. June and Evelyn were friends, and that was why the letters had been in the attic.

Had Evelyn asked June to give them to her baby? Why hadn’t she?

The next letter was from Bob telling Evelyn he’d be home soon. That he had a mission to complete before he’d be home, but he’d tell her more when he knew.

You couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in your stomach. Dear god, please let Bob come home safely. He has a new baby, for crying out loud!

You wipe at your tears and try to get a hold of yourself before starting on the next letter, but your attempts and gaining control of your emotions are futile. Evelyn is asking whether Bob received her last letter, and that she’s worried because she hasn’t heard from him in a while. 

She gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Robert Lonnie Floyd. Evelyn and June are planning a joint Christmas for their kids, and she’s hoping that they’ll all be together if Bob and June’s husband can’t make it. She hopes they do make it, though. 

The letter is signed by Evelyn and Robbie, and your tears fall faster. Your heart aches, because you can see the next letter in the chest. It’s typed out, rather than handwritten like the rest, and you know. You know what’s coming, but you still torture yourself by reading it.

It’s from Fleet Admiral Blair, and he’s telling Evelyn that her husband, Robert Floyd was killed in action only a few days after she sent her last letter.

You wished things had ended differently for them. You wished Bob got to meet his son, and that Evelyn never had to live through the pain of losing her husband. You wished you knew why June had their letters. 

Carefully, you put the letters back into the chest and closed it. You dried your face with the hem of your shirt and tried to calm your breathing. 

You didn’t know what to do. Did you call your dad and ask if he knew about the letters? Did you go and see your grandpa and ask if he knew about them, or if he knew where Evelyn and Robbie were? Since he was born about a month before Robbie, surely they were close? That they had grown up together?

Rising to your feet, you tucked the small chest under your arm and climbed back down the stairs. Tucking them back up before grabbing the last of your things and locking up before climbing into your car. The chest of letters sat on the passenger seat as you drove to the local watering hole, The Hard Deck, and pulled into a free park. 

The first thing you wanted to do was have a drink for Bob and Evelyn, and their son wherever he may be. Then, you planned on enjoying a burger before you decided what to do next. With the time being a little before eight, it was too late to bother your grandpa Michael. It could wait another day. The letters had already been sitting in the attic collecting dust for a good seventy years. Another day wouldn’t seem like much in the grand scheme of things.

The Hard Deck was a hotspot for the local Navy men and women. It wasn’t your first choice, but since Bob had been in the Navy, you felt like having a drink somewhere he might’ve frequented. Especially after a long day of cleaning.

You’d been here a few times before, when you were home for college break and wanted to see if any of the Navy guys looked good enough to let them buy you a drink. Sure, there were some strikingly attractive men, but their egos were on a whole other planet. Each time they proved to you why you should stay away, and you’d heeded their warning. 

Today, you were here to celebrate Bob and Evelyn Floyd. Today, you were grieving their love, their lives. 

You ordered a drink. Just a beer since you still had to drive home. Picking at the label as the moisture softened it until all the edges were loose. 

“Rough day?” The bartender asked you.

You looked up at her and gave her a weak smile, hoping you didn’t look as rough as you felt.

“Something like that,” you admitted. “I found some old letters in my grandfather’s attic while cleaning today. They’re from World War Two.”

“Love letters?”

“Yeah,” you replied, taking a sip of beer. “It seemed like my grandfather’s mom was looking after them for her friend, possibly to pass them on to her son. I don’t know if she forgot, or the son moved away, or why they were still sitting there after seventy-odd years.”

“Wow, that’s, wow,” she said.

You chuckled out a small laugh. “Yeah, I feel kind of bad for reading them. Like they weren’t meant for me. But my great grandfather fought in the war, too. I thought maybe they were theirs. Now I feel bad for invading their privacy, but also for their loss. He died, the husband. After the wife had just given birth to a little boy.”

“Oh, that’s heartbreaking.” She placed a hand over her chest as you swiped at your eyes.

“I felt like I needed to have a drink for them, you know? In case the world forgot about them.”

She smiled at you and handed you a napkin from nearby. “That’s sweet,” she said. “You sit tight, I’ll be right back.”

You dabbed at your eyes with the napkin, willing yourself to stop crying. You gulped down more of your drink, letting your eyes fall back to the bar. Reading the sign that was hung up and barely able to crack a smile. Remembering the first time you saw the sign and had witnessed a few Naval officers carrying out a patron because of it. 

You looked up when the bartender came back, placing another beer in front of you.

“Courtesy of the man in the glasses,” she told you.

Your eyes quickly found the man in the glasses slowly turning away. Dressed in a neatly pressed khaki uniform. Barely a strand of hair out of place. A solemn nod in your direction, all the acknowledgement he needed that you’d received his gift. 

“Oh, that was nice of him,” you told her.

“I thanked him for you,” she continued, offering you a smile. “He’s not expecting anything in return, either. Wanted me to make sure you knew that.”

“Huh? That’s new,” you replied, finishing the last of your first beer before toying with the new one. “Usually they all want something.”

She chuckled at your reaction. “Normally I’d agree, so trust me when I say it’s all good. Can I get you anything else, hon?”

“I’m good, thank you.” You replied with a smile. “How much for the first beer?”

“He took care of that, too.”

“Cute bastard. Thank him again for me, will you?”

She laughed. “Of course. Hope you feel better, hon.”

She left you to enjoy the next beer, and you savoured it. Unlike the first where you couldn’t drink it fast enough, you took your time with this one. Hoping the cute guy with the glasses would come back to the bar so you could strike up a conversation and thank him yourself. 

The kindness of a stranger was always something you found weird. But there was something about this stranger that had you finding it endearing. 

[ohtobeleah]

ToE

Jake Seresin drives an old 1992 Holden Rodeo when he’s in Aus with Amilia. It barely starts, it rattles like fuck and the gears get stuck more often than not when he shifts from first to second.

There a huntsman the size of his palm that lives in the passenger side sun visor but he knows well enough by now to leave it alone. He’s not hurting anyone. He doesn’t tell you it’s there.

The cab is rusted and the floor needs a good clean from the red clay that’s been stomped into the rubber floor mats but again he’s not fussed.

“Do you even know how to drive this thing!?” It may be the last thing you ever do, agreeing to go on a beer run to the local bottlo. Jake’s grinning ear to ear as he watched you clutch onto the roof handle for dear life as he swings around the roundabout. “Jake—!”

“Relax Fe, she’ll be right.” He can afford a better ute, but he doesn’t want one. It sits in the shed for three month stints when he’s back in San Diego.

“I can see why Amilia gave me that look of horror when I said I’d come with you—you drive like a maniac.” Jake chuckled at that, out of the two of them it’s Amilia who can’t drive to save herself. Jake usually drives when they’re together—he values his life and the life of others on the road.

“Took me a while to get the hang of the right side steering too.” You can’t help but to role your eyes as Jake pulls into the car park of the liquor land. “Alright we need a case of Great Northern, a six pack of Corona for Roo and a bottle of Gin for Oz.”

Jake Seresin is just so different when he’s in Australia than he is when he’s back in the states. It doesn’t matter where he is in the world though so long as his wife is by his side—so long as Amilia is around Jake is home. Home is where his heart is.

“Hey mate, how are ya?” You can hear the slight Aussie twang in his voice as he asked the eighteen year old kid staking shelves how he’s going. He loves Australia, he loves the culture and the laid back nature.

“Good man—this the sister you were talking about the other day?” Jake nods, watching as Sam stands from where he’d been crouched stacking the bottom shelf. “Nice to meet you, you’re brother here’s become a little bit of a local.” You shake the kids hands. “I’m Sam.”

“It’s nice to meet you Sam.” You smile softly. “And so I’ve heard.” You heard it from the older guys at the pub on Friday night. You’d heard it from the sweet old lady at the newsagents and the guy at the bakery who wouldn’t shut up about how Jake was just the best guy around. “I’m glad he’s made a home here for himself.”

“How’d you go in the rust bucket?” Sam asked with an all-knowing smirk smeared across his face as he looked over your shoulder and saw Jakes Rodeo in the car park. “That things held together by hopes and dreams.”

“And a few rolls of duct tape.” Jake adds as he rounds the corner with the slab of Great Northern on his shoulder. “She’s a walk in rego mate, as long as it still starts I’m gonna keep it around.” Sam scoffs in response and Jake tussles his hair. “You’re mother know you’re working late?”

“Sure does—“ Sam lived next door the the Fisher-Seresin household. He was a good kid. He confided in Jake a lot about things in life.

“She change your diper before you left the house too?”

“Yeah and your wife was there to kiss my ass when I didn’t kick up a fuss.” You couldn’t help but to laugh at the interaction, Jake would’ve been a good dad. The thought was forever in the back of your mind. He should have been a dad. Amilia should have been a mum.

“Speaking of my lovely wife, get me a bottle of Gordon’s and we’ll be outta here.”

You and Jake don’t stick around for much longer, he pays and tells Sam if he does end up needed a lift to call. Back in the car you can’t help but to ask.

“How come you and Amilia never ended up going through with that adoption?” Jakes too focused on shifting from first the second without grinding the gears as he drives with his knee and clips his seatbelt in to answer right away. But he answers. “You would’ve been a really good dad.”

“We didn’t get approved—“ It’s a hard topic but it’s the truth. “Fly in fly out work didn’t meet the criteria for stable living conditions.” Jake just kept driving, kept looking straight ahead. “But we’re fine with it, we weren’t meant to be parents Fe.” He shakes his head to will the idea from his mind. “Besides, we’ve got two beautiful nieces and two feral nephews that we’d die for.”

You leave it at that and decide that the suns far too bright for your liking. Jake can’t get the words out fast enough to stop you reaching up and out for the sun visor.

“Y/n Don’t—“ You feel your soul leave your body at the sight of it. It’s the biggest spider you’ve ever seen.

“Pull over before I jump out—“

***~***~***~***~***~***

Jakes Rodeo

[mitchipedia]

Trust Between Southeastern San Diego Flood Survivors and Local Government Is Dead

Flooded residents of the Southcrest, Shelltown and Mountain View neighborhoods of San Diego say they’ve been abandoned by the city and county and some say politicians are trying to drive them out to inflate real estate prices.

Will Huntsberry at the Voice of San Diego:

The flood waters have receded, but in these southeastern San Diego neighborhoods a crisis of trust is now ripping through the streets. From block to block the narrative is the same: City officials knew for years the flood canals were clogged and did nothing to clean them. After the floods, city leaders didn’t jump into action to provide relief; it was neighbors and homegrown nonprofits.

The residents of these historically Black and Latino neighborhoods can draw but two conclusions. At best, city leaders don’t care if they are forced from their homes. At worst, city leaders want them gone.

…

In other words, city leaders purposefully allowed Shelltown, Southcrest and Mountain View to flood, so that other people could take the land.

City officials, of course, have offered many explanations for why they never cleaned Chollas Creek. The amount of money for stormwater improvement is dangerously low. Certain environmental regulations were hard to get around. They have also said the amount of rain was so severe that cleaning the canals would not have stopped the floods. But none of this has resonated with the flood survivors. Would so many calls for a channel to be cleaned have gone unanswered in La Jolla they wonder?

Now, they are all forced to watch as the fabric of their community is torn apart.

Jessica Calix adored her neighbors in Southcrest. She rented a two-bedroom for $1,650 per month — unheard of in today’s rental market. Now, she’s stuck in a motel, searching for a new place. She can barely find a studio apartment in the same price range.

That’s bad for her and other renters, Calix said. But it’s good for landlords.

“Landlords will clean their places up and rent them for an extra thousand dollars or more now,” Calix said.

Roughly 70 percent of people in Shelltown, Southcrest and Mountain View are renters, according to US Census data.

And it’s not just renters being pushed out, according to the rumors going around. Stories of cheap cash offers for waterlogged houses are also making the rounds.

Rain and possible flooding is forecast to start again in a few hours and continue two days.

[wwenhlimagines]

Stuck In The Middle - Part 8

Hook x Y/N x Ricky Starks

Part 7

A few days go by, and the pictures have stopped popping up, but the rumors are still flying. How will Y/N move on from this debacle?

Ruby and Willow tried their best to distract me from the pictures and rumors swirling around online during our girl's day, but every time I checked the time on my phone, I got wucked back in. Eventually, Ruby and I switched phones, and the 3 of us were able to relax and somewhat forget the outside world.

Ruby and I switched phones back when I left for the airport, but not before she got rid of any notifications she deemed as unnecessary. I had a few texts from family members, and that was about it. By then, the pictures weren't popping up every second on Instagram and Twitter, so I was able to scroll through and catch up with whatever I missed fairly well. I flew back home and got settled in at my house before starting my weekly chores.

Later that night, I was playing a game on my phone when I got a text notification. It was Ricky, so I hesitated but eventually clicked on it.

Hey, just checking in on you. Wanted to make sure you made it home safe.

I smiled to myself before replying to him

Yep, just doing laundry and cleaning up for now. Thanks for checking!

I go back to my game for a bit before a hear the notification again.

Great! I have been thinking about your publicity issue, and I think if we go out in a group next week, it could help negate those rumors flying about.

I hummed to myself as I thought about it.

Who all would go and where?

You, me, Hook, Garcia, Skye, Ruby, Dante, Darius, Willow, etc. Whoever you want to invite. We could go out to a bar or dinner, depending on how we are feeling.

I shrug before looking into the places around the arena and hotel we are booked for next week.

I found a nice Italian restaurant a couple blocks from our hotel and a club a few blocks in the other direction. We can figure it out next week. Thanks for thinking of me, Ricky!

I go back to playing my games until I get ready for bed and fall asleep after cleaning all day.

Ricky's POV

I groan as I read Y/N's last text to me. I know she doesn't want to date anyone right now, but I can't help but let my feelings develop for her. I know this is going to be a tricky task as I am going to want to sit next to her and talk to her, but so will Hook.

I see Garcia's face pop up on my screen, and I answer his FaceTime.

"Hey Ricky, what's up, man? You look a little down."

I groan and rub my hand over my face. "Daniel, I think I'm actually falling for her."

Garcia snickers a bit. "You say that every time you meet a new woman. What makes her different from the others?"

"I can't explain it. I just want to do anything to make her happy."

Garcia stares at me for a few seconds before sighing. "Damn, Ricky might actually be falling in love. Never thought I would see the day."

"Oh fuck off Daniel... you know I'm bound to settle down sooner or later, but she makes me want to settle down now."

Garcia's eyes grow wide at my confession. "You barely even know her, Ricky. You sat together on a plane and had a couple of run-ins at work. She could be psychotic for all we know!"

I rolled my eyes and told him about my idea of a group hangout next week.

"Well, you better not get too close, or else the rumors might start up about the two of you next!"

I smirked at him through the phone screen before replying, "Same better go for Hook, though. If she said she doesn't want to date anyone, then he needs to back off as well. Let her make her own decisions."

Daniel smirks watching me get all riled up about this before we change the subject and stay on FaceTime for about an hour talking about our upcoming matches and whatnot.

Y/N's POV - Monday

Over the past few days, I have spoken to Ruby, Willow, and Skye about the group outing idea, and they all agreed to join. We decided it might be fun to go to the zoo in the morning since we will be in San Diego. Then we will get ready at our hotels and go out for dinner or whatever the boys want to do. Ruby and I are rooming together this trip, and we are both heading to the airport soon. I finish up packing before locking up my house and heading to the airport.

The flights to San Diego were decent, but unfortunately, my luggage seems to have e gotten lost. I groan as I watch the carousel stop signaling all of the bags that have been dispersed. I hear a light chuckle behind me and slowly turn around to see a man in a black hoodie eating chips.

"Hook, this isn't funny. I don't have my luggage, that means no clothes, no toiletries, no chargers!"

He hides his smirk behind the chip bag before eating another one and nodding towards me. "That's why I stick with a carry-on."

I roll my eyes at him, "I have too much shit for a carry-on. You probably have a couple of outfits, ring gear, chips, and a few toiletries. I have extra shoes, makeup, hair products, and jewelry, too."

He shakes his head slightly, "You don't need makeup. The Glam Squad can get you camera-ready, but you don't need it off camera at all. Also, I have hair products as well. How else do you expect me to create this masterpiece?"

I reach up and ruffle his hair, making him squirm away. "Well, if you are going to be that way, I guess I will let someone else who lost their luggage borrow my extra hoodie."

I reach back up to help him fix his hair as I see bright green hair out of the corner of my eye. "Ruby, thank goodness you are here! They lost my luggage, so I have nothing now."

Ruby skeptically looked between Hook and I before shaking her head. "It's happened to me a couple of times. Let's go to the store and get you some necessities."

I nod and turn to leave before realizing I haven't invited Hook to Thursdays activities. "Hey Hook, if you aren't busy on Thursday, a few of us are going to the zoo in the morning and then going out that evening. You are more than welcome to join us!"

He nods as he thinks about it. "Sounds like it could be fun. So it will be you two and who else?"

"Well, right now, it is us, Willow, and Skye, but we are going to invite Ricky, Garcia, and Eddie as well. You can bring the lads if you would like!"

I can see his jaw clench when I mention Ricky, but he quickly redirects himself and smiles as he pulls out his phone. "I'll text them now and ask. See you ladies later!"

We walk in opposite directions as Ruby and I go towards the Uber station. "Well, well, well. Not looking for a relationship, huh?"

I look at her confused before she continues. "You are lucky there were no fans to take pictures of you intimately fixing his hair."

I try to smack her jokingly, but she jogs ahead and jumps the Uber. This will definitely be an interesting trip.

Tags: @thesupreme316 @gethooked @730hook @baybay-boom @hookedonhook @louisianalady @hooks-martin @imswitchbabemox @plentyoffandoms @legit9thlunaticwarrior @hookswifeeyy @hookhausen @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @lghockey @thenerdybaker523