#like man you be living in san diego how can i even

[speakeasier]

MAN, SMOKES. yo, this is the reason why sometimes i just don't give my number to my cousins or fam. i am just losing my mind.

[sometimesanalice]

Sun Stroke

Summary: It’s been a few months since you’ve broken up with your boyfriend and moved to San Diego. And when Rooster and his teammates introduce you to Dogfight football, you know you’ll never be the same again. Hard pressed and out of sorts, you take matters into your own hands.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw/Female Reader

Length: 8k

Warnings: smut, mentions of masturbation, an ode to the jorts.

(author's note: this is a prequel to the 'Like I Can' series, however it can be read on it's own!)

Bradley Bradshaw was a dead man.

The hangover you’d woken up with was 100% his fault for pressing that final Blue Moon into your hand last night at the Hard Deck.

It had been a couple years since the last time the two of you had seen each other in person and even longer since you’d both lived in the same city, but he knew you. And he without a doubt knew better than to order you another drink when you were already fighting back the giggles.

But what were you going to do, not drink a free beer paid for by your longtime best friend? Not to mention the way he’d teasingly called you a lightweight in a way that sounded a little too much like a dare.

You’d only moved to San Diego a little over a month and a half ago, and maybe if you were going to own up to the role you played in earning this headache, you probably should have known better than to try and keep up with the group of aviators. But since he’d been the one to drive and you were having a good time, you’d thrown caution into the wind and cheers-ed his glass with your own with a grin.

Bad choices shouldn’t taste so good.

It was a citrus-kissed mistake you were paying for now with your head pounding as you rushed around your apartment in a frenzy trying to throw your things together to get out the door to meet everyone at the beach. It’s a feat that would have been so much more manageable if you hadn’t been surrounded by a sea of cardboard boxes, all in various stages of unpacked disarray. It’s an inconvenient maze made by your own procrastination.

Those pain relievers you’d popped not too long ago couldn’t kick in quick enough.

You were running late. You hate being late.

And the way your phone keeps pinging is stressing you out even further. You know it’s Bradley and you’ve been ignoring it in favor of trying to get your act together. It goes off again, barely a minute since the last text had come through, but this time you pause your rummaging to check it.

🔴 Rooster, 11:10 AM: where are you??

🔴 Rooster, 11:17 AM: on a scale from 1-10 how bad is your hangover?

🔴 Rooster, 11:22 AM: tick tock, kid.

🔴 Rooster, 11:23 AM: bring me a coffee?

You roll your eyes at the nerve of that last one. He was going to have to beg Jimmy to make him a tar-like pot from the Hard Deck’s ancient coffee maker if he wanted any. If you were suffering through a hangover, he could suffer through being undercaffeinated.

It didn’t help that you were feeling more high strung than usual. Your vibrator had died before you could finish last night and you’d meant to buffer in time for a quick orgasm this morning, but then you’d slept through your alarm.

You hadn’t had sex since you’d broken up with your ex almost three months ago. While you were doing just fine on your own, you were getting tired of the feel of your own hands and fingers.

When your boss had mentioned the promotion that he wanted to put you forward for, you were elated until he mentioned it would involve relocating to the West Coast office. You’d been on the fence, it was the next step towards your dream job, but you were content with your life in Boston. That night when you had casually mentioned the possibility of it to your boyfriend at the time, it seemed clear to you that it would be an either-or situation.

Either you’d stay in Boston with him or you’d move to San Diego on your own.

Not wanting to rock the boat, you didn’t mention it again. Even though you were still weighing the choice in your mind. It wasn’t until a phone call with Bradley, that you’d finally settled on the right choice for you. After breaking it off with your ex, the two of you had essentially lived like roommates until you’d left without a look back.

At the time, you thought it had been a brilliant idea to use some of your less worn clothes as packing protection for your things. But now as you desperately dig through your third box labeled Bedroom looking for the sporty black and white one piece with the zipper that you know you have but can’t seem to find, you’re starting to think you might be the biggest idiot on the West Coast.

The only beach appropriate thing you’d been able to find in your frantic searching was the bright red scalloped bikini you’d bought a few years ago for a bachelorette party in Tulum wrapped around a set of pretty glass candle holders. And while it made your boobs look great, it was much sexier and revealing than what you were going for to meet up with the Daggers on their home turf.

When your phone dings yet again, you finally admit defeat and give up on your search. In a huff, you put on the bikini, giving the bow behind your neck a good tug before pulling up your denim shorts with a couple jumps, trying to speed things along.

Earlier, you’d found the sticky note that said “FRIDGE!!!” underlined a few times by a heavy hand on top of the beach bag you vaguely remember packing for yourself the night before. The soft cooler bag covered with cheerful palm leaves had been haphazardly shoved onto the top shelf and was now sitting by the front door with the rest of your things, including the low sitting pink and white striped beach chair that Bradley had given to you as a ‘Welcome to San Diego’ gift.

You take one more passing glance around your apartment you look for any stray item that might have been missed- not that you’d be able to spot anything anyways through the cardboard battleground that is your apartment- and then you’re shoving your feet into your sandals and flying out the door in a flurry.

Pulling into the private lot of the Hard Deck, you park in the open spot next to your best friend’s blue Bronco. The bar wouldn’t be open until later, but Penny had given the group of aviators’ carte blanche parking perks. It was something you were especially thankful for as you slung the heavy bags over your shoulder.

The warm coastal breeze and briny salt air were clearing the cobwebs from your head.

Even though the feel of it drifting over your bare skin reminded you of just how exposed you were in just your skimpy bikini top and frayed denim shorts, you’d only realized when you were halfway to the beach that you’d forgotten to put a shirt on in your haste to get out the door. But you were sure you’d packed an oversized linen shirt to cover up with if the sun got to be too hot.

As you pass by the well maintained, but sun-bleached patio, you see Penny sitting at one of the picnic tables with her laptop. She waves when she sees you and you raise the iced latte you’d stopped for up to her in greeting, as much as you can without having the beach chair slip off your shoulder.

Further down the beach, you see the group of energetic aviators. Nat looked a bit like an orchestral conductor the way she is directing the finishing touches on the set up. You weren’t too late, just fashionably so, but you were already planning to buy them all a round of drinks later anyways. Even though it’s just a casual hang out, you still want to make a good impression with Bradley’s friends.

It was been one of the things you’d been most worried about moving here. Rooster had opened the door for you to get to know his friends, but you didn’t want to be just an extension of your best friend in the way it felt like you had been in high school. You really liked these people and wanted to make your own friendships with them too.

You’re more than regretting the choice to try and bring everything in one go, with the way the sand is shifting under your feet and how your beach bag and chair keep bumping against each other with every step you take. And just as you’re contemplating ditching them for the moment to circle back for after you get rid of the cooler bag that’s weighing you down, you see Fritz nudge Bradley, pulling his attention away from his phone and pointing in your direction.

The wide grin that appears on his face is immediate and you feel the corners of your own mouth pulling up. California looked good on him. He seemed happier and lighter here, more like the boy you knew from back home. The one he’d been before he lost his mom and the man who’d helped raise him. You hope that one day it’ll look just as good on you. He gives the other man a quick pat on the back before he’s setting off towards you in an easy jog.

“Hey, where’s mine, kid?” Bradley asks, nodding to your drink with its ice cubes now more than half melted before effortlessly taking the heavy bag from you.

You’re so grateful for his help- now that you can feel your arm again- that you almost forget that you’re supposed to be annoyed at him.

“You know what you did, Br-adshaw,” you retort, catching on his name and hoping he could feel your attempt at a glare from behind your dark sunglasses.

It was a change you were still getting used to. You’ve known him since you were eight, he’s always been Bradley to you. But you’d caught on very quickly that everyone else here only ever seemed to call him ‘Rooster’ or ‘Bradshaw’. And he’d grinned so widely the first time you’d called him by his callsign that it seemed like a confirmation to the question you’d been too apprehensive to ask.

The man didn’t even have the courtesy to look guilty, the all too knowing smirk on his face confirmed everything you already knew, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Mhmm, sure,” you say, flatly pressing your lips together in an unamused line. You’re tempted to flip him off now that you have a free hand, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

He tugs his sunglasses down his nose with a finger to look at you from over the top of them, more serious now, “But you had fun, right?”

And it’s too hard to keep up with the façade of being mad at him when he is looking at you so earnestly. When you were younger you had a higher tolerance against those big brown eyes, his ‘cow eyes’ as Carole had called them. Now that you lived here maybe you’d have a fighting chance against them again, but you felt yourself giving into them.

You were still getting use to the fact that you got to be around him all the time again, and sometimes it felt like you were relearning him as an adult. Your friendship with him felt just as familiar as it always had, but you could admit it was also different now.

“A little too much,” you say with a light laugh at your own expense, “But yes, I had fun, Rooster. I really like your friends.”

He smiles, pleased. “Ok, good.”

Bradley slings an arm over your shoulder and the two of you start walking towards the rest of the group. You hold your drink up for him to take a sip as a sign of truce.

He grimaces at the taste, “Why does it taste like I just licked some of that potpourri shit my Grandma Rose used to keep in her house?”

“Maybe because it’s a lavender latte,” you say, taking a smug sip of your own now that the two of you were even. The coffee shop you’d stopped at has become your favorite in the area. It was a little thing, but you liked having a go-to spot when so much still felt so new to you.

“You’ve only been here a few weeks and they’ve already got you drinking the California Kool-Aid? Coffee should taste like coffee, not a damn flower,” he gripes.

“You sound like you’re seventy. Next, you’ll be yelling at kids to get off your grass,” you tease, nudging his ribs with your elbow. “And I’ll have you know I liked these before I moved here. It was just an extra selling point getting one this morning because I know you aren’t going to drink it all when my back is turned.”

He barks a laugh, “Now that I know there were ulterior motives involved, I might just have to help you finish it.”

You stop and push your sunglasses onto the top of your head, giving him a firm look, “You’re still on friendship probation, tread carefully where my coffee is involved.”

Bradley playfully reaches out for your coffee, “You don’t scare me, kid.”  You attempt to push him away, but he doesn’t budge an inch.

The two of you had basically reached the rest of the group. The gentle crash of the waves was mingling with the sounds of Fleetwood Mac playing from a speaker and the bursts of easy laughter of his friends. Jake is a few feet from the two of you at the edge of the set up as he works to cover himself with sunscreen, the mist sparkling on the fine hairs on his forearms before he rubs it in. 

“You might have those curls figured out now, but I bet my mom still has photos of you with that terrible middle part from when you were thirteen. Don’t mess with me, Bradshaw.”

His head snaps towards you, “Your potpourri coffee is safe, I promise.” You can’t help but laugh at the panic in his voice and the way he warily eyes Jake, clearly not wanting the other man to get his hands on any potential blackmail material.

The sound of a low, exaggerated whistle pulls your attention over to Hangman. “Lookin’ good, kid,” Jake drawls, a pair of dimples punctuating his lazy grin on either cheek, “Red is definitely your color.” His pecs and abs are gleaming in the sun. He’s not your usual type, but it’s working for you more than it should.

God, you really needed to get laid. Or at least get a more reliable vibrator.

“Nah, I’m not having any of that,” Bradley warns, pointing a finger at him, “You cut that shit out right now, Seresin.”

Jake puts his hands up in surrender, but that sharp smile gets even wider, “Just givin’ the lady a compliment, Rooster, don’t get your feathers in a ruffle.” He sends you a wink and you think you hear Bradley grumble something under his breath.

The blonde with all his pretty boy looks was absolutely a shark when it came to finding ways to get under Rooster’s skin. You’d heard your best friend complain about him for years. And even after learning about their truce, you hadn’t been too sure about meeting him in person. But ultimately his easy charm had won you over pretty quickly. You could admit that now you had a lot of fun teaming up with Jake and riling Bradley up.

“Thank you, Jacob,” you sing, tugging on Rooster’s arm towards the spot that had been left open for you in between his things and what you recognized as Natasha’s oversized beach towel.

You gingerly balance your coffee on the arm of his deep green beach chair before dropping the rest of your things into the sand and take in the carefully curated beach arrangement.

Fritz and Harvard are off to the side casually tossing a frisbee back and forth between them. Callie and Nat were facing off against Coyote and Payback in a game of cornhole laughing as they shit talk. Yale looks like he is napping, but you spot the AirPods in his ears, probably trying to listen to the audiobook he’d recommend to you last night in peace. Next to him is Fanboy, who looks pretty engrossed in the comic book he’s reading. And Bob was making his way back up the beach towards the group from where he’d been down by the water.

“I’m going to go offload that and say ‘hi’ to people,” you tell Rooster. Taking the heavy cooler bag back from him, you set off towards the designated grazing area in the middle of the ocean-facing semicircle Nat had corralled people into, greeting his friends as you pass by.

You were more than a little curious about tipsy you had packed for the day. Unzipping the bag, the first thing you spot is the last thing you ever would have expected to find for a day at the beach.

“What the fuck?” you mutter to yourself, hesitating for a moment, unsure whether or not to add it to the rest of the things in the cooler.

“Are those pickles?” You turn to see Mickey standing behind you.

You hold the jar up for his inspection, “I can’t tell you what I was thinking by bringing them. Do you think I should put them in?”

He surprises you when he whoops and takes the jar from you, holding it above his head like a championship belt, “Yo, Payback! Look! The kid brought pickles!”

“Which kind?” Reuben calls back, taking a pause from the game with a beanbag still clutched in his hand.

“Claussen! The whole kind!”

“Oh, hell yeah!” he hoots, sending you a thumbs up. “Grab me one too, Fanboy.”

Mickey twists open the lid with a satisfying pop and fishes one out. “These are the best, thanks!” he says before excitedly hustling off towards Reuben to share, the cornhole game now on an indefinite pause.

You hadn’t been too sure what tipsy you had been thinking, but apparently the beach pickles were destined to be a hit. Either that or you weren’t the only one trying to shake off the tail end of a hangover this morning.

Bob swings by to grab a soda, but stops to help you unload the rest of the things from your bag. As the two of you work together, he tells you about the crab he’d found near the patio of the Hard Deck that he’d just released back into the ocean. 

Both of the large coolers were pretty packed, so no one would be going hungry or thirsty today. You make a note to shop around for one of your own and maybe a beach umbrella since no one else seems to have one. You were more of a sand, sea, shade type of girl.

Once everything is all put away, you grab a couple bottles of water and make your way back to your friend. You catch him taking another curious sip of your coffee, this time he nods like the taste might be growing on him. You let it slide because you see that while you’ve been away he’s set up your chair for you.

“Are you feeling peckish, Rooster?” you ask, plopping the water in his cup holder, eyeing the pilfered bag of trail mix he must have pulled out of your tote bag in his hands.

“What?” Bradley shrugs, unapologetically. You roll your eyes at him affectionately as he helps himself to another handful. “God, I’ve missed this. Japan has so much good food, but one of the perks of being back stateside after a year and a half is all the snacks. I’ve been going to Trader Joe’s like twice a week since I’ve been back.”

You still didn’t know anything about the mission that had brought him back to Top Gun. That phone call you’d had with him the night before he’d shipped off had played in your mind on repeat until he’d texted you that he was back safely in San Diego. The only thing you had been able to glean is that not everything went according to plan, based on his newest additions to his collection of scars. They were the first thing you’d noticed when he’d picked you up at the airport. Still shiny, pink, and fresh.

“Well, with that Hawaiian shirt collection of yours, you’d certainly fit in.”

He chuckles at that as he takes a moment to sort through the collection of various nuts and fruit and chocolate bits, he plucks out the raisins and drops them back in the bag. You bite back a smile because some things never change. He’s always pulled out the raisins, usually to replace them with more chocolate chips. Back when you were teens, his infamous ‘Bradshaw Mix’ was basically a 3-1 ratio of chocolate chips to anything else.

“Wait a second. Hold up, ‘peckish’?” His hand pauses halfway to his mouth, “Was that a joke at the expense of my callsign, kid?”

You point at yourself like who me? blinking innocently at him, “I would never.” Then grabbing a few of the nuts from his open hand you pop them into your mouth, shooting him a sunny grin.

Now that everything was all situated you felt like you could finally relax. You were like this when you traveled too, never at ease until you were through security with your bag stowed above your head. That tightness in your chest only releases after you’re buckled into your seat with all your in-flight necessities tucked away in the seat pocket in front of you.

Maybe that’s why it took you so long to notice the shirt that he was wearing. Well, mostly wearing. The sleeves had been cut off with an overenthusiastic hand and neared nip slip territory with the amount of Rooster’s golden skin that was on display.

“The Hooters shirt, really? Of all the things you could have held onto from your glory days, you chose that? How gauche.” You slide your sunglasses back on your face with your pinky exaggeratedly pointed up to the sky for dramatic flair.

He clutches his chest, “She’s got that fancy degree and been living in a big city and now she thinks she’s too good for Hooters? My, my how times have changed.” Bradley whips his tank off and tosses at you the same way he had done hundreds of times when the two of you were growing up.  Except the overpowering smell of teen spirit and axe body spray was replaced with a subtle, rich woodsy smell.

Rooster laughs when you succumb to the urge and throw him your middle finger. 

“Your motley crew of teenaged horndogs only went there because you all had a crush on Danielle Batula’s older sister,” you shoot back, folding up his shirt and putting it on top of your things.

“Hey now, we also went for the Lots-a-Tots. I’ve always been a feminist, kid, if a woman feels empowered wearing those spandex shorts then I’m going to support her,” he says with a wink, “Far be it from me to tell a woman what to wear.” You reach up to flick his nose and he bats at your hand, grinning even wider.

“And what’s the excuse for the reason you’re wearing jorts at the beach?”

Not that any man should be able to pull them off, but he wore them well. You were pretty sure he could pull off most anything with the body he’d worked for over the years, but the fact of the matter was that denim had no place mixing with sand.

“These are my beach jeans,” he says like it’s the most logical thing in the world, as he strikes a pose with his hip cocked out.

“I can see that, Rooster. But why?”

“It’s because they get him laid,” Javy cuts in with a booming laugh, slapping Bradley on the back as he passes by on his way towards the coolers, “Isn’t that right, Bradshaw? How many numbers did you score the last time we all did this? Like five?”

He runs his against the back of his neck, looking more sheepish than you’ve ever known him to be, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. She doesn’t need to hear about all that.”

“Oh.” It sounds just as stupid coming out of your mouth as you feel, not entirely sure how to respond or what to do with yourself.

Objectively speaking, you know your best friend is attractive. Tall, broad, and tan. You’d seen him get hit on more than a few times at the Hard Deck in the short time you’ve been here. But Rooster’s sex life wasn’t something you really wanted to hear about- or think about- especially when yours is nonexistent at the moment. 

However, it was one thing to generally know Bradley had no problem finding someone to take home and a different thing to hear just how easy it was for him. 

But you couldn’t say it surprised you though. During your first night out with everyone, you’d overheard a girl in the bathroom talking to her friend about him in more detail than you ever wanted to know, right down to confirming there had been more to the story he’d told you about how he’d earned his callsign.

You pointedly ignore the turn in conversation in favor of digging through your woven beach bag. You hadn’t had the time to apply sunscreen with all your rushing around to get here, and knowing Rooster he most likely hadn’t put any on either. His shoulders aren’t pink yet, but they undoubtedly will be by the end of the day. Even with the SPF 65 you’d purchased with him in mind.

Grabbing the bottle, you smoothly lob it to him, “Here, put that on. ‘Lobster’ isn’t nearly as cool of a callsign, Rooster.” You have to turn away from the chaotically haphazard way he rubs it all over his face. 

Leaving him to his own devices, you pull out a battered paperback book and toss it into your chair, only slightly mortified to see that tipsy you had been in a grocery store bodice ripper mood. If only you had noticed it earlier, you would have swapped it out for something less incriminating.

How you’d taken the time to unpack your books, and not all your clothes was beyond you.

You’re about to step around to the front of your pink and white striped chair when you feel a firm tug on the belt loop of your shorts, making you stop to turn back towards your best friend.

“Woah, get back here. We can’t have you frying, kid.” He squeezes some sunscreen into his hand, “Turn around and I’ll get your back for you.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” you say, adamantly shaking your head, “I trust you with a lot of things, but I am not trusting you to put the SPF on me. You haven’t even rubbed it all the way in on your face yet.” You thumb at the smear of white on his cheek to further emphasize the point.

“Hey, these hands handle a multimillion-dollar fighter jet, I’m more than capable of covering your back with sunscreen,” Rooster huffs, “Now, c’mere.”

Natasha laughs beside you as you dart out of his reach and around your chair to stand by her instead. She must have just walked up, because the last time you’d seen her she had been over on the other side of the group talking to Callie. But you had every confidence she would back you up with this since her friendship with Bradley was one that spanned years, and she’s undoubtedly seen him fried to a crisp before too.

“She makes a good point,” she says with a smirk, pinning him with a sharp raise of her eyebrow, “The last time I asked one of you guys, I ended up with the worst tan lines.”

The look of betrayal on his face is comical, “And here I thought we were friends.”

“I’ve decided to upgrade,” she says pointing to you. You beam in victory towards him and he just shakes his head at you before looking down at the large blob so sunscreen in the center of his large palm like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

You take Natasha up on her offer to help you cover the spots you can’t reach. All the while, you can hear him grumbling to himself as he works on rubbing in the dollop that had been meant for you over his shoulders and chest. After she’s done with your back, you shimmy out of your shorts and work on getting your arms and legs covered.

As Nat pulls up her thick, shiny hair onto the top of her head- the reason she must have come over here in the first place- and reminds Rooster about the plan to play ‘Dogfight’ football a little later before setting off again. You’d heard of flag football, but that name was new for you. You’d seen enough football with your ex and you were suddenly very grateful you’d brought a book to keep yourself occupied, even if it was a bodice ripper. 

You double check your set up, ready to hunker down, when you feel Rooster’s eyes trained on you, “What?”

“Just looking for evidence of this tattoo you allegedly have,” he says, doubtfully, “Considering that I only found out about last night. Since when do we keep secrets?”

“I told you it’s not for the viewing public, so it’s none of your business. Now, stop hovering and go play with your friends. You’re annoying me,” you say without heat, shooing him away.

“Are you bossing me around, kid?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yep,” you say breezily, getting comfortable in your chair and opening your book, “You’d think you’d be used to it by now.”

“You’d think,” Rooster agrees with a laugh. He squeezes your shoulder before strutting off to go join where Coyote, Harvard, and Fanboy are already tossing a football back and forth not too far away.

Now that you’re on your own, you lose yourself in the words printed on the cheap paper of your smutty bargain book. You’re too engrossed in the tension and build-up of the story you’re reading to pay attention to anything else. And you’re reminded why this particular book has never made it into a donation box when you do your spring cleaning, it’s got the best combination of all your favorite tropes. By the fourth chapter you’re completely immersed in the story, and all the chatter happening around you becomes white noise.

The only signal of time passing is marked by the melted ice in your empty coffee cup, by the crinkle of swiftly turning of pages, and by the sun as it rises higher and higher in the sky.

What minimal marine layer there had been when you’d first arrived is long gone. You’re probably due for another layer of sunscreen by now, but you can’t be bothered when you’re in the middle of possibly one of the hottest sex scenes you’ve ever read.

It’s so well written, so incredibly vivid that you can almost feel greedy hands and wandering mouths along every inch of you. The blood thrumming in your ears has drowned out the sound of crashing waves. You’re so hyperaware of your body. It’s as if you can feel every individual grain of sand on your skin. Tucked between your fingers, on your shin, in the nook of your ankle bone. The high heat of the day has your hair sticking to the back of your neck and sweat collecting in the hollow of your collarbone. You’re too keenly aware of the prickling sensation on your shoulders and the tops of your thighs.

You thought living vicariously through the main character might help take the edge off. Instead, all it’s done is given fresh life to the ruined orgasm from the night before, like an echo of need reverberating throughout your whole body. A reminder of how untouched you’ve been over the last few months. You can’t help the way you’re shifting in your chair, trying to relieve the way your clit is throbbing in time with your heartbeat. The moment your cunt clenches around nothing, you close your book with a sharp snap. Not even bothering to mark the page you left off at.

You feel fidgety and keyed up. 

Needing something to do, you grab your tote looking for the lightweight linen coverup you assumed was packed. But digging around all you can find is Rooster’s Hooters shirt from earlier.

You’re more than a little irritated at yourself for not double-checking you had everything before you left for the day, and because your tipsy self had clearly fucked you over. You don’t know anyone else as well as you know Bradley to rummage through their things to look for some other form of sun protection, so with a huff you pull it on over your head. The cotton is soft and warm to the touch. You’re grateful for the way it covers your shoulders, but you’re already mentally preparing yourself for how smug he’ll be when he sees you in it, especially after all the shit you gave him earlier.

Still needing to keep yourself occupied from wanting to crawl out of your skin, you crack open the water bottle you’d grabbed earlier and swallow down a few large gulps. You’d heard when Natasha had rallied the group for their game, but you hadn’t taken a moment to find out what ‘Dogfight’ Football actually was.

You’re not even the slightest bit prepared for what you see playing out in front of you down by the water. You’d figured watching some of their football game would help your act together, but now you feel even more spun out of control than before at the sight of so much skin.

Fuck.

The sun is bouncing off of their hard, athletic bodies. Under the shiny sheen of sunscreen and sweat, their muscles look bigger and the divots and ridges more pronounced. You knew these were some of the best and brightest the Navy had to offer, but seeing them in action was something else entirely. The power of their legs was impressive as they ran and spun around their opponents. The precision of their aim as they threw the football to a teammate. Every single one of them was in peak shape. Those weren’t vanity muscles, those were earned and honed by hard work.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from any of it.

The lithe line of Natasha’s toned thighs. The full, defined pecs on Jake’s massive chest. The way Bob’s large hands easily wrapped around most of the curved football he’d just caught. The skin over the wide expanse of Javy’s back was pulled taut, his muscles flexing as he twists and bends. The way Mickey was breathing hard made his chiseled abs stand out even more than they already did.

It was a lot. Especially for someone who couldn’t remember the last time they’d been good and truly fucked.

And then there was Rooster.

There had been a few moments since moving here where you’d been struck by this version of him. It was almost like your brain couldn’t connect the tall, broad man in front of you racing across the beach with the long-limbed, gangly boy you’d known with the red and black braces. Or the one in the teal shirt who’d scooped ice cream for his first job. Or the one who’d helped you pass Algebra 2 when the math teacher cared more about coaching the basketball team than he did trying to make sure his students understood the material.

Seeing him now, like this? This version of him was new to you.

Rooster’s chest and face were flushed pink, those curls of his are an absolute riot. The sweat he’d worked up made it look like his golden skin was gleaming in the bright afternoon sun, even with the patches of gritty sand that were sticking to him. Power and control radiated off every inch of him, the embodiment of physical strength and agility. Every movement he made was purposeful and precise, like he knew exactly what he was capable of.

You knew he was built, but the casual perfection of his body still takes you by surprise.

The broadness of his shoulders, the definition of his biceps and arms, the jutting v-shaped muscle that ran diagonally from his hipbones towards the trail of fine hair below his belly button. The long tendon that ran along the side of his neck was on full display as he throws his head back to laugh at something one of his teammates says. It was impossible to miss the unapologetic confidence in his swagger or the way those ridiculous jorts were clinging to his thick thighs. They were absolutely soaked through, the light wash darkened by the Pacific, and the denim was molded to him in a way that left nothing to the imagination. 

When did Bradley get an ass like that?

The startling intrusive thought about your best friend has you shooting up from your chair in a flash, your book tumbling off your lap and into the warm sand.

Jesus Christ, you needed to get a grip.

Shade. You needed shade and to get out of the heat. And you definitely needed to get away from the overwhelming display of sunkissed sweaty skin and peak physical prowess playing out before you.

And then you’re off like a shot towards the Hard Deck.

The burst of cool air you’re hit with as soon as you’re pushing through the patio door that Penny left unlocked for the group is more than welcomed against your overheated skin, even as it makes goosebumps erupt along your body.

You sigh in relief once you flip the lock to the worn wooden door of the bathroom closed. Leaning against the cool surface that’s littered with faded stickers from all around the world, you squeeze your eyes shut, willing your racing heartbeat to slow down. You’re breathing hard like you’ve run a marathon, your lungs uncooperative to the point where you don’t feel like you can take a full breath. You’ve never felt this antsy before, it’s like there’s a live wire under your skin.

In the mirror, you catch a glimpse of yourself. You’re more than a little windblown, but it’s the wild gleam in your eyes that surprises you the most, it’s a look on yourself that you’ve never seen before. Your thighs rub together as you shift your weight on your feet and it makes the pulsing of your clit impossible to ignore.

You weren’t. You shouldn’t.

But you have no idea how you’re going to make it through the rest of the afternoon and evening if you didn’t with how on edge you are.

Bringing your hand up to your chest, you press it there and let your thumb soothingly skim the side of your neck, trying to use whatever techniques you’d learned in those overpriced yoga classes you’d started taking before you’d left Boston to calm yourself down. But your fluttery pulse won’t be pacified.

Every part of you feels hypersensitive, you can feel every thread of Rooster’s shirt against your too tight skin. The desire to be touched is overwhelming. Your breasts feel heavy and you’re all too aware of your peaked nipples against the cups of your swimsuit. You’re craving hands other than your own.

It’s been so long since someone else has made you come. Even longer since you’ve had a back-arching, toe-curling, steal-your-breath kind of orgasm. You want to be pressed into the door, you want a firm, solid body fitted against yours. You want to be kissed and touched and fucked.

You keep telling yourself that you aren’t going to, even as your hand trails down the soft cotton between the valley of your breasts and over your stomach down even further. Your fingers sneak easily beneath the top of your bikini bottoms since you’d left without pulling your denim shorts back on. There are no thoughts left in your head, only the ringing in your ears. You need, you need.

There’s a small whimper that escapes you at the first touch of your fingertips against your slippery clit. The sensation has your hips jerking forward on their own, seeing out more. You’re so wet already.

There’s no finesse or slow build up. No gentle teasing or trying to draw this out. Your fingers are making quick, tight circles on that pulsing part of you. In the quiet of the bathroom, the rhythmic slick sounds you’re creating feel almost too loud.

You already know it’s not going to take you long to get there, but you still can’t help but let your mind wander. You think of big hands with thick fingers, ones that are calloused and rougher than your own touching you in just the way you like. The thought of a thick thigh pressed in between your own, on you could rock and grind against, has you rolling your hips harder against your fingertips. You can almost feel the ghosting of hot lips, a wet mouth, and a teasing tongue along your neck. All you want is a raspy voice in your ear whispering filthy words and murmuring pretty praise.

Couldn’t even wait until you got home. C’mon then, dirty girl, show me how you touch yourself when you’re alone and no one’s watching.

Go on, give that needy clit the attention it deserves. Spread your thighs open further- yes, just like that- I want to see how wet you are for me.

Jesus, look how hard you’re working for it. You’re going to make yourself come, and then I’m going to fuck you so hard that everyone will know what we did in here. They’ll all know how desperate you were for this cock.

A soft whine makes its way out of you, and with your free hand you pull up the collar of the shirt you’re wearing over your mouth to try and muffle your sounds as you tremble all over.

You’re hit with the scent of clean laundry and the warm, woodsy scent of expensive cologne. It’s rich and cozy, it reminds you of the trees that grow everywhere in your hometown. And underneath that, there’s a smell that you’d know anywhere, one you’ve always been familiar with. It smells like Br--

You come open-mouthed with stars blooming behind your eyelids, the force of it hitting you so hard that your knees nearly give out beneath you. The hand that had been covering your mouth slaps against the door for support. Your hips writhe against your fingertips as you chase those last shimmery moments of your release.

In your post-orgasm satisfaction, you feel like you can finally breathe again, now that all your antsy, unsettled energy has been freed from your body.

When you can feel your legs again, you go wash your hands once and then again for good measure. Like somehow it’ll erase the last few minutes from the Hard Deck’s history books, even though you’re sure it’s seen much worse. You chance a peek at yourself in the mirror, you look more relaxed than you did when you’d arrived.

Unlocking the door, you leave the sanctuary of the quiet bathroom. The only thing on your mind is the glass of ice water that’s calling your name. You’re about to round the corner out of the hallway when you collide into someone’s chest. A firm, sweaty, shirtless chest.

“Oh hey, there you are,” Rooster says, his big hand steadying you at the waist. “You ok? You look overheated, kid.”

Your face heats up immediately. You’re too flustered by what just occurred barely five minutes ago to look him in the eye. You feel embarrassment trying to bubble its way to the surface, but you push it back down in the name of self-care. Plus, you could always blame it on sunstroke if you had to, not that you were ever planning on telling anyone about it.

“Probably just dehydrated,” you ramble, trying to sound unaffected. Your eyes are trained on a spot just under his ear. “But you’re one to talk. You’re fried, Rooster.” With a finger you press lightly on his bright pink shoulder. His hisses and knocks your hand away.

“Nah, I’m just working on my base tan.” You don’t see as much as you feel the moment he notices what you’re wearing. Smugness rolling off of him in waves, “Not too good for Hooters now, are you?”

“Shut up,” you mumble.

“C’mon, let’s get you some water.” Tucking you under his arm as he steers you back towards the bar. “So what did you think of Dogfight football? Did you catch any of it or did your highbrow literary choice have your full, undivided attention?”

Your mind starts to whirl, unable to think of a reply. Thankfully you’re spared giving him an answer as the rest of the clamorous team spills in through the open patio door. The commotion is a godsend, because it’s almost like he forgot he even asked the question in the first place in the all the activity. The real answer will forever be a secret between you and the Hard Deck.

The late afternoon melts into evening like hand-churned ice cream, smooth and silky.

Eventually, the beach set up is packed away into trunks of cars as the party moves inside the bar. You end up back in your denim shorts, the Hooters shirt is the crowning glory to your ensemble for the rest of the night. You don’t even feel guilty getting people to call Rooster ‘Flamingo’ after the third time someone asks you about being out of uniform regulation. But he isn’t faring much better in the too-tight shirt he was borrowing, since it turns out that out of everyone in the group only Bob had been the one with enough common sense to pack a spare one.

As predicted, the pink hue of Rooster’s skin deepens with every passing hour until he’s bribing you into leaving early with the promise of burgers and milkshakes in exchange for putting on aloe for him back at his place.

He’s sprawled face down on his couch in a pair of loose sweatpants with his eyes closed, contentedly humming as you work on applying a second coat of the cool, soothing gel to his hot-to-the-touch skin. One of the movies the two of you use to watch all the time plays on in the background, the crumpled wrappers and empty cups of your dinner sitting out still on his coffee table. Every time you come here you can’t help but seek out any little touches that look like him, but much like yours, his condo seems to be a work in progress.

“It’s nice having you around, kid,” Rooster says with a sigh. “I’ve missed you.”

“You don’t have to butter me up, Bradshaw, I’ll put one more layer on for you before I leave,” you tease, as your hand follows the freckles along his back.

He squeezes your knee, “No, seriously. I don’t know if I’ve said it yet, but I’m really happy you’re here.” And you know that if you were to look in his brown eyes, you’d see nothing but fondness reflected in them.

You give him a soft smile, “I’m happy I’m here too.”

It’s late by the time you get back to your place.

It seems pointless with the cardboard boxes still scattered around your apartment, but you still go through the motion of putting all your things away. Like wiping out your cooler bag and throwing your clothes in the washing machine, including the well-worn Hooters shirt. You’ve already decided to spend the rest of your weekend trying to unpack your things, you’re ready to make your space feel more like your home.

It’s a slow sinking feeling that settles over you as you wash the sand and sea salt from your skin in the shower. Your day has been so filled with chatter and laughter, that it feels uncomfortably quiet. It was different from the peaceful quiet you’d had at Rooster’s place, this was the empty kind of quiet. 

You turn the tv on in your room and crawl into bed, savoring the way the cool cotton of your sheets feels against your legs. Checking your phone, you see that Nat has sent you some pictures that she must have taken during the day. Scrolling through them you like the windblown, carefree girl you see in them.

For as good as the day you’ve had, you can’t quite shake off how lonely you’re feeling now. You can’t help but think about how nice it would be to come home and have someone here to laugh and relax with. Someone just to be with.

You pull your lower lip in between your teeth as you click into the app store feature on your phone. Taking a few moments to skim the options, you download the dating app with the highest rating and best reviews, deciding that it can’t hurt to try.

Not everyone got to have a fresh start in a new city, and you wanted to make the most of it. A new city with new places to go and new people to meet.

And you are ready to embrace every bit of it with open arms and a hopeful heart.

California was going to look good on you.

Bradley Bradshaw, you liked that lavender latte and you're not fooling any of us!

Many thanks to @gretagerwigsmuse and @callsignspark for being the best babes to swoon over pretty pilots with!

If you want to see what happens next for these two, click here!

You can read more of my stories here!

taglist:

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[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 44 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley swallows his pride and seeks out a conversation with Admiral Simpson, but he's surprised by the response he gets. You keep everyone on their toes, and you do it so effortlessly, Bradley knows it's time to go shopping. And he uses Skittles as the perfect cover.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, smut, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4000 words

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

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

When Bradley parked at work a little early on Monday, he sat in the Bronco for a few extra minutes. He had just witnessed you and Noah making breakfast together, and it was making it really hard to be away from you right now. When he walked into the kitchen, you were brewing coffee and singing the dinosaur song with his son while the two of you spread that weird avocado stuff that you liked so much on some toast. He had started to love it, too, and Noah would eat anything you made. 

He removed his aviators and pinched the bridge of his nose. There was so much he wanted to get done this week, including looking at a few engagement rings, but he knew better than to make any sort of excuses to get some time alone. That had nearly backfired on him when he went to get Skittles. He was going to have to get creative somehow.

When he pulled out his phone to call the animal shelter about getting Skittles' cast removed, he froze. Across the parking lot, Nat and Javy were both getting out of his car. "Interesting," he muttered to himself as he watched his best friend groping their coworker, and he grimaced. He'd already seen too much. 

"Hello, this is the San Diego shelter. How can I help you?"

Bradley nearly dropped his phone; he'd forgotten he was making the call. "Yeah, hi. I need to schedule an appointment to have my dog's cast removed?"

"Oh! Are you talking about the Yorkie?"

He smiled as he climbed out onto the already hot pavement. "Yeah. Skittles. I'm hoping she has sufficiently healed."

"Why don't you stop in on Wednesday and we can check her out."

"Sounds good, thanks," he replied, following Nat and Javy at a very conservative distance. But apparently he wasn't cautious enough. 

"So," Nat sighed once Bradley joined her in the hangar, "you saw Javy and I in the parking lot." It wasn't a question, so he decided to just nod and roll his eyes in response. "Oh, come on, Rooster. I'm just having some fun."

"Look at him," Bradley muttered, glancing to where the man in question was smiling at Nat. "Are you serious right now? You want to make him cry or something?"

Now she was the one rolling her eyes. "I'm not taking advice from you. You're historically terrible at dating."

"I'm doing a pretty good job now," he said, smiling as he thought about you.

"You can't even get Cyclone off your girl."

Bradley covered his face with one big palm. "You noticed that?"

Nat laughed. "Everyone at the botanic gardens on Saturday night noticed that."

"Fuck," he groaned. "If she wasn't so young and so fucking hot, I wouldn't be about to embarrass myself by trying to get him to let me fly in the air show."

She just shook her head as she reached for her helmet and muttered, "Oh, cry me a river."

"Hey." Bradley turned just in time to see Javy greeting the two of them like a puppy looking for Nat's attention. He was honestly worse than Skittles at the moment. "The guys are talking about a beach day this weekend. You know, since the summer is ending."

"We don't need to do another beach day. We live in San Diego," Nat replied as she sipped the coffee she wasn't supposed to have inside the hangar. "It's the same season all year round."

Javy laughed like she was a comedian, and Bradley looked back and forth between the two of them, completely baffled by this dynamic. There's no way you and he made a couple this wild. 

"Yeah, but it's still the end of August," Javy said, now smiling at Nat as if she was the most adorable thing in the world. "Rooster, you can bring your girl and your kid. It'll be fun."

"You know what," he replied, "I think I'll go if Nat goes."

Then Bradley strolled away as they started arguing, because he saw Admiral Simpson on his way to the tower. He just needed to get Cyclone alone for a few minutes, swallow his pride, and try to head Jake off for the air show. The opportunity arose after lunch when Bradley caught him checking his phone outside the rec room door.

"Admiral Simpson, sir," he greeted before grinding his back teeth while he thought about you. "May I have a word?"

Cyclone glanced up before pocketing his phone, a look of vague amusement on his face. "Lieutenant. What can I do for you?"

"It's about the upcoming air show. Sir. I was hoping you could tell me if you'd made selections regarding who would be flying in it."

His look of amusement grew. "I have not. I believe that was on my agenda for today or tomorrow." He paused before adding, "I've been meaning to thank you for that glass of bourbon on Saturday night. Woodford Reserve is one of my favorites."

Bradley remained unflinching. Although he had no idea what Admiral Simpson was talking about, he thought it better to simply agree with him. "Yes. The Woodford Reserve." 

He nearly took a step backwards when the other man started laughing. "You'll have to thank your girlfriend for me, too. And I'm assuming the reason you're here is because you want to fly in the air show?"

"Yes...sir," Bradley replied slowly, feeling very off balance now that Cyclone was being so agreeable. 

Still chuckling, he said, "I'll see what I can do," before turning and walking away. 

Once he was out of earshot, Bradley pushed through the door to the rec room as he muttered, "What the fuck was that?"

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

It was almost fun for you to pick Noah up from daycare now. Not that you would ever admit that out loud. But the enjoyment you found in the way Casey pouted at you was a bit of a guilty pleasure, and besides, you got to have Noah greet you like you were the most exciting and interesting person in the world.

"Mommy!" he called out as he ran across the lobby and into your arms. "Guess what my craft is!"

"A dinosaur?" you asked as you shot an extremely fake smile at Casey before heading outside.

"Nope."

"A... dog? Did you make Skittles?" you asked as you put him in your car.

"Nope."

"The solar system?"

"Nope."

"Hmm. Will you give me a hint?" you asked, brushing his soft curls away from his forehead and giving him a kiss. But he was already unzipping his bag and pulling out his newest painting. There was a big, light blue shape that looked like it could have been Bradley's Bronco along with a man who appeared to be sporting a mustache. "Is that Daddy?"

"Yes!"

Then you noticed a little brown blob. "Is that Skittles?"

"Yes! She's his best friend!"

You laughed, because Noah wasn't wrong. Skittles seemed to love Bradley the most, and as much as he tried to fight it, the dog won him over. "She is," you agreed before buckling him in. "She's his best friend besides Aunt Natasha."

Noah shook his head. "She doesn't count, because she's an Aunt."

"Right, right," you said, not wanting to fight his childhood logic when Skittles wasn't even a human. "You're completely right. Should we go home?"

You started singing the dinosaur song as you drove, and because of a detour, you had to drive past the park where Meredith had chased you down. A shiver rippled through your body as you remembered falling and scraping up your arm in your haste to get Noah safely in your car. You hated coming home this way. There was a reason you never did it.

"Mommy, why did you stop singing?"

You glanced in the mirror at Noah's face. "Sorry! Where were we? The part about how the dinosaur stomp, stomp, stomps?"

Bradley was already home when you pulled into the driveway, and you found him dozed off on the couch with Skittles curled up on his chest. Two seconds later, he was jolting awake with the dog in his hand as Noah ran for him. "Daddy! I made you! Out of paint!"

"Cool," Bradley told him, pulling Noah onto his broad chest as well. "And how's Mommy?" he asked, his voice a little raspier just for you. "How was your day, Princess?"

You shook off the last remaining thoughts of Casey and Meredith as you leaned down to kiss him. "Pretty good." He chased your lips for more, but his arms were too full of Noah and Skittles for him to be able to reach for you. "Looks like you're still tired from the weekend," you said with a wink.

"I had a nice conversation with Cyclone today." 

"Oh? About what?" you asked as you started to head to the kitchen to make dinner. 

His expression remained completely neutral as he told you, "Bourbon. Woodford Reserve, to be specific." When you said nothing, he added, "We can chat about it later."

So you made spaghetti, knowing you'd been found out. You had been tipsy on Saturday night at the retirement party, but you were pretty sure you remembered what you did. Probably. You hoped Bradley wasn't mad at you over it, but he seemed to be in a good mood as he ate dinner and offered to give Noah a bath while you walked Skittles. 

She was stubborn for you at first, plopping down on the front porch and whimpering for Bradley while you tugged gently on her leash. "Come on. You're making me look bad! You were my idea. Mine and Noah's." When she remained in her spot, you had to reach into your pocket and say, "Treat?" That did the trick, and you got her to take a slow lap around the block with you while you broke a milkbone into little bites and gave it to her. 

When you returned home, Skittles bounded into the house to get to Bradley where he was sitting on the bathroom floor, looking comically enormous with Noah's rubber duck in his hand. You stood in the doorway and watched him automatically reach down to pet the little pup, taking caution with her casted leg while he rinsed the shampoo out of Noah's hair. 

"You want to go to the beach this weekend, Bub?" he asked softly. "With Aunt Natasha?"

"Can Skittles come?" Noah asked, and you watched Bradley place a soft kiss on his wet forehead that left you reeling. Suddenly you couldn't wait for Noah to be in bed so you could have him all to yourself. 

"Maybe. If she gets her cast off on Wednesday," he replied softly as the dog fully plopped down with her head on his thigh. 

"Daddy?" you asked from your spot in the doorway. It was almost a whine, and when he looked up at you, you were certain he knew what you were thinking about by the little smirk on his lips.

He reached into the tub to drain the water as he asked, "Do you need some attention?"

You just nodded, still in your scrubs from work, but you felt too warm now as you pressed your thighs together. "Yes."

"Fifteen minutes, and then you can have it," he replied with an edge to his voice. "Can you wait that long?"

"I can try," you murmured before you turned to go into Noah's room and get his dinosaur pajamas ready. Anything to expedite bedtime. You listened while Bradley took his time reading three stories, and then you kissed Noah's forehead before you tried to pull Bradley toward the hallway.

He chuckled and whispered, "I'll meet you on the couch."

"Oooh, the couch," you said before running from the room. Before you could even decide what you wanted to do, Bradley was behind you wrapping his arms around your waist and tickling your neck with his mustache.

"I kind of miss those nights when I would help you study."

You moaned softly. "Anatomy really is your specialty."

You felt him pull his right hand away from your body, but before you could complain, it reappeared in front of you with a bag of Skittles on his palm. When you spun in his arms and kissed him, you whispered, "You're so sweet."

Bradley lifted you up and took you the few steps to the couch where you settled in straddling his lap while you opened your candy. "If you're this excited about something I picked up at the gas station, I wonder what you'll do if I buy you something a little more expensive."

You met his soft eyes and leaned in to kiss him. "How much more expensive are we talking?" you asked, treating him to the orange Skittle you pulled out of the bag. He parted his lips and you slipped it between them, watching his jaw work as he chewed it up. 

"A lot more expensive," he replied as you ate three candies. "Hey, this is a 50/50 relationship here, Princess."

You shoved a small handful into his mouth and kissed his cheeks as he sputtered and chewed. "I'll share everything I have with you. Too bad I don't have much."

Bradley swallowed down the treat and reached for your free hand. "You give me everything I need. Everything I want, too."

You basked in the warmth of his words as your eyes closed, and a welcome heat crept into your cheeks. "I love you."

"Then I think you'll love what I'm planning on buying for you," he whispered as his mustache grazed your chin and jaw. 

You grinned, hoping you already knew what he was talking about, but too afraid to say it out loud. So you pushed the thought from your mind and scooted a little closer toward him on his lap. "What's this I'm hearing about a beach day? And Skittles getting her cast off? This is all news to me."

He didn't miss a beat as he wrapped his big hands around your hips and said, "What's this I'm hearing about some bourbon at the retirement party? It's all news to me."

"Oh," you whispered softly before eating more Skittles, buying yourself a little time to think. "Well, you see... I wasn't exactly sober."

"You're joking," he deadpanned. 

You rolled your eyes and shoved more candy into his mouth. "I may have had a glass of bourbon sent over to Admiral Simpson, courtesy of Lieutenant Bradshaw and his girlfriend..."

After a few quiet blinks, Bradley's head tipped back in laughter so loud that Skittles the pup came running into the room. "You didn't!" Bradley said. "I have to work with that man!" 

"Somebody had to make the big move, Daddy! It cleared the tension!"

He met your eyes, still shaking his head and smirking. "It also made you look like Daddy's good little girl."

Your heart skipped around in your chest at his words, and you set your candy aside in favor of wrapping your arms around his neck. "Am I not? Daddy's good little girl?"

"Oh, you absolutely are," he replied as he lifted your top inch by inch. "I just never thought my boss's boss would see it that way." 

You raised your hands up in the air, eager to lose your shirt, but he took his sweet time about it. "Daddy."

"You can be patient," he whispered, smiling when he saw your purple bra. "Pretty." Your top dropped to the floor as he cupped you through the lace, finding your nipples right away. "You feel like going to the beach on Saturday?"

Bradley's lips found the tops of your breasts, and you could no longer formulate real words. You just hummed in response already knowing he was going to take expert care of you right now and on Saturday as well.

"You could wear your purple bikini and tell all the other guys to fuck off," he said as he ran his nose softly along your skin while he unhooked your bra and let it fall next to your top. 

"Would you like that?" you asked as your fingers tangled up in his hair. He answered you by nodding as he took your nipple between his lips. Bradley was all big hands on your bare skin and just the perfect amount of roughness. "Oh god," you whined. 

And then he had you on your back in the middle of the area rug with his body over yours. His thigh was rubbing you through your thin pants, and you bucked up gently against him as his heavy weight pressed deliciously against your body. "I love you," he grunted as you tugged at his hair. 

"I love you so much, Daddy," you gasped as he yanked your pants and underwear down and off, leaving you in only your socks. He fumbled with the front of his pants for just a few seconds before pulling his length free, and you spread your legs wide for him.

His lips and tongue were wet on your neck as you held him close, lost in the domesticity of having sex here now. Just like your first time with him. Right next to the snag in the rug. But this time you could hear Skittles' claws tapping across the kitchen floor, and you could see some of Noah's crayons that had rolled under the couch while Bradley fucked you. You could smell the lingering scent of the pasta sauce from the dinner you made. You could taste Bradley's now familiar tongue as it met yours. And you could feel his rough hands on your hips and belly where he'd now touched you hundreds of times. 

You fell in love with the flood of familiarity he brought to your senses, and it left you smiling up at him when he broke the kiss. "Jesus," he grunted, cupping one cheek in his hand. You kissed the side of his thumb as he stroked your skin, and you watched him slowly come undone for you. "I'll get you there," he promised, changing his angle so he rubbed your clit with each movement.

Just like the first time, he filled you up as soon as you came, and your name was all over his lips as you smiled at the lost crayons before closing your eyes. Bradley collected you against his body as he eased himself down onto his side, and you sighed contentedly. You held onto his wrist as he ran his hand along your hair and kissed you. In that moment you would have agreed to anything he said. 

"Baby, I'll be a little late on Wednesday night. I have to take Skittles to get her cast off, and then I need to stop at the store."

You hummed softly in response, pressing your lips to his. "Sounds good."

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

The only time Bradley heard from you on Wednesday was when you told him that one of your patients came in with an emergency, and you wanted to let him know you'd be helping Dr. Kelly with a minor surgical procedure. He was excited for you, but he didn't want to bother you. Even though he had good news.

"Congrats," Jake drawled in the locker room after a very long day of flying. "Don't know how you managed to pull this one off, but I heard you're flying in the air show."

Bradley ran his towel over his chest before tossing it into his locker. "Thanks," he grunted, trying not to smile. He'd be able to take you on the tour of the hospital with him, and then you and Noah could watch him fly. His son had never seen him in the air before, and it gave Bradley goosebumps knowing that the two of you would be able to do that together. 

Jake gave him one last appraising look before he got dressed. Honestly, it was probably the fact that you upped the ante with Cyclone that Bradley was chosen over the others. Perhaps now things could be called even. You managed to keep everyone on their toes in the best way, and it made him smile even now. 

You were in rare form this week, luring him in for living room floor sex when there was a perfectly new bed in the bedroom. And then last night, you got him to watch a Disney princess movie with you, even after Noah was in bed, and Bradley had begrudgingly enjoyed it. You were laying across his lap on your back when the end credits rolled, and you said, "If you're a good boy, I'll make you beignets just like Princess Tiana."

Bradley had smirked. "Do those have cream filling?"

"No," you whispered as he eased your shirt up so his palm was flat on your belly. 

"Do you want some?" 

He had been thinking about getting you pregnant as he made you bury your face in the couch pillows to keep you quiet.

And that was just one of the many reasons he was about to leave work and head home to grab Skittles before stopping at the jewelry store across town. If Casey managed to bump into there and ruin this surprise as well, he would probably lose his mind. But the jeweler near the animal shelter was one of the best in the city, so that was where he would go. 

Bradley awkwardly held Skittles while he drove, and eventually she curled up with her head on his thigh while he sat in traffic. She seemed to be doing great, so he hoped that was a good sign that the cast could come off. You and Noah were delighted with her, and she somehow made Bradley fall in love, too. 

"Yeah, you're sweet," he told her, scratching her behind the ears while he drove. He parallel parked the Bronco with one hand while he continued to pet her, and when he took her inside the shelter, he held onto her a little tighter. It was hard to believe she'd been here just a few weeks ago, completely unwanted. 

Bradley pressed kisses to the top of her head as he waited for the receptionist to finish her phone call. When she hung up, she asked, "And who do we have here?"

"Skittles Bradshaw," he replied, nuzzling his nose against her fur and wondering how on earth he had gotten so attached to this little pup. "Hopefully she can get her cast off today."

He only had to wait a few minutes, and then he watched as they examined her before cutting into the cast plaster. Once she was free, Skittles took a few tentative steps across the exam table, and then she jumped right back into Bradley's arms. 

After he paid the monstrous bill for such a small creature, he carried her down the sidewalk, enjoying the cooling temperature as the sun set. When he checked his phone, he saw that you'd finally texted him again.

My Princess: Noah and I are going to play at the park near the beach. Leftovers when you get home?

He typed out a quick message letting you know that sounded perfect. Thoughts of you and Noah together filled his mind as he entered the jewelry store, and two women looked up at him and Skittles. "Is it okay if I have her in here?" he asked, but they both immediately rushed over, practically screeching about how cute his dog was. Honestly, the pet would have probably worked out better than the dating app had for him.

"What are you looking for?" the first woman asked as she petted Skittles on her head. 

A soft smile made its way to his lips as he said, "An engagement ring."

"Oh! Of course, let's just head over here to see what you like best. Do you have anything specific in mind?"

Bradley followed behind her as he nodded and said, "A princess cut diamond."

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

A princess for a Princess. Also, there is no way Skittles wouldn't be a magnet for all the ladies. A big man with a small dog... just fuck. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 45

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[ramirezmindset]

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭?

*+:｡.｡　mickey garcia x reader　｡.｡:+*

→ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: you've been married to mickey for nearly three years now, but things can only stay secret for so long, especially when a certain Jake discovers you two on a coffee date...

→ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: adult language, but mainly fluff and a few sexual innuendos (no smut) :P definite naval inaccuracies, mickey and y/n are both around twenty-eight years old during this. ↳ wc: 3050

→ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: first post on this blog also first time writing in maybe 4 (??) years eeeek!!! hope it lives up to the hype, feelin funky fresh - requests are open!

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seven years ago

You were a fresh spring chicken. A graduate, an adult, a taxpayer, looking on towards the horizon at your fresh and gleaming new life, the excitement was palpable. You and your best girlfriend, Cara, had moved into your new San Diego apartment a mere seven months ago, both of you having job offers out the door. Maybe being grown up wasn't so bad.

There was one thing missing from your life, you thought, as you looked out the window of the café you and Cara settled on for coffee. You didn't have anyone.

"Hey, what am I? Chopped liver?" Cara exclaimed, a slight smirk on her face. You didn't realise you said that out loud. She knew exactly what you meant by 'anyone', she just loved to tease you. You rolled your eyes at her and chuckled.

"C, you know exactly what I mean. You have Sophie, who, by the way, might as well start paying rent considering she's at our apartment every. Single. Night." Now it was Cara's turn to roll her eyes.

You had always been the shy guy out of your friends, much preferring comics and solo nights in to crazy nights on the trot. It's not that you were against an alcohol fuelled 'gals about the town' evening with all your best friends, but nothing beat the comfort of laying on the couch doing absolutely nothing all by yourself.

And you complain you don't have anyone. The hypocrisy is almost laughable as you take a sip of your coffee. You were just never the type to attract anyone, it's not that you were bad looking, or lacked the social skills to keep someone engaged in conversation, it's just that you never liked the people who approached you. They were always too this, or too that, and despite all of your friends telling you that "his favourite spiderman suit will not affect the sex", you just couldn't do it.

"Yeah, about that" Cara trailed off, running the tip of her finger over the rim of her mug. "Sophie and I have been together for a while now..."

"Six months, three weeks, and five days" You replied, closing your eyes in disbelief at the fact you even know that let alone said it out loud.

"Yes, however long that is" Cara waved her hand at you. "Anyway, Sophie mentioned that her and I get our own place together." She squinted her eyes at you, trying to gage how you were feeling, but you stayed silent, lips pursed.

"Ok" You sighed. "I don't blame you. Do it!"

"Really? You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad?" You giggled before reaching across the table to hold her hand. "You're my best friend, and I'm so glad that you and Sophie found each other, and I want you to go and be happy and live life and have sex and not have to worry about waking me up 'cos the walls in our apartment are so thin!"

Cara chuckled and shook her head. "Yeah, that is a perk, actually. But now, you'll have an empty apartment, go rent the spare room out to a hot guy or bring someone home and fuck them as loud as you want and-" Her jaw falls slack. "Don't look now, but look now, is that not the most delicious man you've ever seen!"

You turn your head to look in the same direction as her, and sure enough, the most attractive man you've ever seen in your life is approaching the barista just a mere few metres away from you.

"Holy shit" slips off your tongue before you can even think, and you can't stop yourself from staring at him.

He was standing there, looking around nervously, his hands thrust into the pockets of his loose-fitting jeans. A mop of inky curls sat upon his head, just leaving his chocolate brown eyes in your view as they darted around the room. His T-Shirt hugged his biceps almost too well, as if it was made for him, and you could feel your mouth practically watering at the sight of him.

"Cara, kill me right now. Just fucking kill me immediately" You pulled your eyes away from him to see Cara sinking into her chair, her hand covering her mouth as she was nearly crying from laughter. "What is so funny?"

"Nothing, I've just- I've never seen you like this before" She takes a deep breath and rubs her eyes. "Go talk to him! If you don't fuck him, I will, and I'm gay!"

"No! Cara, no, I can barely talk to ugly guys, and he is-" You close your eyes and swallow. "And he is actually raw sex appeal"

Before you know it, Cara is kicking your shins underneath the table, using her feet to twist your knees to the side and practically force you to stand up.

"At least go order another drink whilst he's there! Just smell him, I know you want to!" She laughs as you nervously approach the space at the register next to him.

He makes eye contact with you as you walk past, whipping his head to follow your body as you make your way to the counter. You're internally cursing yourself for wearing a stupid Spiderman sweater for coffee, I look like such a freak, you think.

"1984, Secret Wars" someone says from beside you. You whip your head towards him, eyes wide and confused. "Your sweater. The first black Spiderman suit, 1984, Secret Wars" He smiles awkwardly.

"How did you-" You shake your head. "Yeah, yeah it is" You glance over his shoulder at Cara, who is sat there with her mouth agape at your absolutely horrendous attempt at chat. "Um, it's nice to meet someone who knows this stuff. I felt like a total dork in this sweater five seconds ago"

"You shouldn't" He grins at you, a big, gleaming, shit-eating grin. "I love Spiderman, and I think you're cute as fuck" His hand instinctively comes up to nervously scratch at the back of his neck as a blush rises up your face.

"Thank you" You say, grabbing the coffee you forgot you even ordered because you were too busy tripping over your thoughts when you walked over. "I'm Y/N, by the way"

"Mickey" He replies. "I'm Mickey, and I'd love to take you out"

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present day

It had been seven years to the day since you first met Mickey in the café in San Diego, and here you were, in the exact same spot, with the exact same man, ordering the exact same coffee's, except this time with rings adorning your fingers.

The last seven years had been a whirlwind, Cara did end up finding her own place with Sophie, the two of which were still together, and you did end up bringing a hot guy home and fucking him as loud as you wanted to, just as she said on that fateful day, and instead of renting out Cara's old room, you invited Mickey into yours, turning the now empty second bedroom into your comic shrine just two months after your first meeting.

It turns out, yourself and Mickey had more in common than you could've ever imagined, and for the first time in your life, you didn't feel like a total misfit. When you learnt he was a naval aviator, it was a surprise, but something you were willing to work with, there was no way in hell you were going to let a guy this perfect slip from your grasp. Plus, you knew it would all work itself out in the end, evident in the fact he's now working in the city you both live.

You look down at the wedding bands sitting delicately on your finger, thinking about the life you've shared with Mickey, the love, the laughter.

"Cara, I don't think I'm ready for this" Your maid of honour fanned your face with her hand, her eyebrows furrowed together as you paced around the bridal suite of the beautiful wedding venue.

"Pull yourself together, for Christ's sake!" She replied through gritted teeth, grabbing your shoulder's and twisting you round to look at her. "It is your wedding day! I'm the one that's meant to be stressed out, I practically planned this whole thing. You're walking down that aisle, I will drag you down it by your hair if I have to!"

You closed your eyes, Cara's grip on your shoulders feeling like a tonne. Slowly, you sink to sit down on the floor, probably crumpling the skirt of your perfectly steamed white gown.

"I just-" you sigh "What if he runs? What if he realises I'm not what he wants?"

"Are you crazy?" Cara joins you on the floor, holding your clammy hand in hers. "He's probably just as nervous as you are, and I know that sounds bad considering what just came out your mouth, but that man loves you. He practically kisses the ground you walk on!" You let out a small chuckle at this, you know she's right.

"I'm serious!" Your friend continues. "For the last three years, that man has been hellbent on making you smile. He's like a man possessed, he has been ever since he saw you wearing that horrible Spiderman sweater in the café!"

That part was true. Almost immediately after Cara overheard Mickey say he'd loved to take you out, she stalked over, blurting out a quick "she's free tonight!" before grabbing the coffee out your hand and scuttling out the door.

"That works perfect" Mickey blushed shyly. "If you'll let me?" You remember blushing, and bashfully nodding. You were all jelly legs and a puddle of nerves when your doorbell rang at seven on the dot, looking up to see Mickey's vague silhouette through the fogged window of your front door. Since that day, he's never left your side. You've never opened a car door for yourself, never refilled your own water bottle at night, never spent a dime on a pair of shoes, because, no matter what, he's always two steps ahead, reading you like a book.

"Now come on" Cara said, heaving you up and smoothing out the tulle of your dress. "Let's go get you a husband!"

You were enjoying the peace and quiet of the café, hearing the nearby waves crash and fall through the open windows, and the delicious smell of pastries and espresso wafting around the room, the feeling of your husbands protective arm around your shoulder. He looked at you as if he had the stars and the moon in the palm of his hand, the universe glimmering in his eyes as he opened his mouth to say, what you already knew was, 'I love you'. That was, until, the bell above the door behind you rang and, quite frankly, the loudest gasp you've ever heard rings across the place, louder than the gasp Cara gave you when you showed her the huge rock on your finger when Mickey proposed.

"Fanboy?!" Mickey's eyes go wide next to you, and you can practically see the cogs turning in his head. There was no specific reason Mickey kept his marriage a secret from his pilot friends, though he prefers the word 'private'. Not only did it spare him a whole lot of hassle at work, but it kept you free from the pressure of having to actually have to talk to new people. He knew your distaste for meeting new people, the whole 'What's your name? What's your favourite colour? What do you do for a living?" causing actual bile to rise in your throat at the thought of such boring conversation. So when you nervously requested that he not tell his co-workers about your marriage because, in your own words, "I'll have to meet them and then I wont be able to go out and do what I want", a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

"Fanboy, that is you!" The voice repeated. "And...a girl, oooh!" Mickey turned around to see, who you had learned prior to be 'Hangman', Jake Seresin.

"He's nice" Mickey would say. "But he tries to fuck anything that is female, human, and has a pulse, so he's not going anywhere near you!"

"Hi, Hangman!" Mickey forces out, through gritted teeth. "What are you doing here?" His arm falls off your shoulders as he disappears a few steps behind you to greet his friend.

"Getting coffee and a sweet treat, what else?" He laughs, and you can feel his eyes burning into your back. "And who is this?"

You were hoping he had forgotten you were there as you slowly shuffled further and further down the counter, pretending to peruse the pastries as to avoid any social interaction. Mickey and Jake appear next to you, a look in your husband's eyes that can only be interpretated as 'I'm sorry.'

"Uh- Jake, this is Y/N" Mickey says, holding his arm out in an almost jazz-hand manor, presenting you as if you were a finger painting a child was showing their mom.

Jake makes eye contact with the gold band on Mickey's finger before he makes eye contact with you, his eyebrows furrowing. He grabs your left hand, faster than light, inspecting the matching wedding band, the gold glimmering in the afternoon sun that beat through the window. He grabs Mickey's left wrist, holding your hands up next to each other as his eyes flick between them. Suddenly he drops them both as his eyes go wide and another yelp leaves his lips.

"Garcia, you're married?!" He looks like a proud dad.

"Hangman, please-" Mickey's practically starts begging, his hand instinctively reaching for yours, but is cut off by a boyish slap on the shoulder.

"I cannot believe this!" Jake laughs, throwing his head back, his free hand clutching his stomach. "How did I not realise this? What the actual fuck, have I died? Have I died and gone to hell? A world where Fanboy, of all people, has a girlfr- no, not girlfriend, a wife?!?"

Mickey chuckles with him, shaking his head and blushing. He pulls you into him. "Hangman, we keep this private for a reason, so please can we just keep this between us? As in, my wife and I go about as normal and you keep quiet?"

"Keep quiet? About this? No way, I can't, I've never kept a secret in my life!" Jake is practically squealing, who knew a grown man would be this thrilled over someone else's marriage. "I'm sorry, I haven't even introduced myself, I'm Hangman, my friends call me Jake, or daddy, depending on which friend's you're talkin' to, if ya catch my drift"

You shook his hand politely, a nervous smile on your face. "I'm Y/N, uh, nice to meet you"

"So this is why you didn't want anyone to know" Jake looks at Mickey knowingly, crossing his arms and squinting. Mickey raises an eyebrow and cocks his head in confusion. "What, dude, your wife's hot. Better keep her away from Rooster, don't worry, bud, your secrets safe with me."

And with that, Jake retreats out the café, not even ordering his coffee, or sweet treat.

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Your secret was not safe with him.

Later that evening, you were sat at The Hard Deck bar, where you and your husband were frequent flyers, no pun intended. Cara and yourself sat in the corner, nursing a drink each, catching up on the past few weeks, mainly talking about her upcoming wedding. Mickey was on the other side of the bar, pool cue in hand as he made eye contact with you, stealing a sly wink before turning back to his aviator friends.

"Earth to Y/N!" Cara says, waving a hand in front of your face. "God, I wander what would've happened if I never pointed him out to you at that café!"

You were interrupted by a thundering yell by the front door. "Guys!" Oh Christ. "Guys, Fanboy has a wife!"

"That wouldn't have happened, I can tell you that for certain" You rested your head in your hands, avoiding Jake's gaze like the plague before he inevitably would pull you over to the group. You sank further and further into your seat, practically merging with the chair as to avoid being spotted. As per usual, Cara was sat there with a hand slapped over her mouth, muffled laughter escaping through her palm.

"Fanboy has a what?!" The group yell back, almost in sync, as you make eye contact with Mickey who has his head down chuckling. He squeezed his eyes shut, nervously clamping his bottom lip with his teeth, desperately trying to drown out the thousands of questions being hurled his way.

"Since when?"

"Who is she?"

"Do we know her?"

"Is she here?"

"Guys, I think we should all give Mick his privacy, I mean, there's obviously a reason he hasn't said anything-"

"Shut it, Bob!"

"Tell us everything!"

With a nod of his head, you're rolling your eyes and dragging Cara along with you towards him. Your hand is clamped to Cara's, who's still regurgitating laughter behind you. Micky extends an arm as you get closer, putting the pool cue down to reach under his shirt and pull out his dog tags, a gold ring sitting on the chain.

"Jake!" You call out, playfully furrowing your brows at him. "That was supposed to be our little secret" Mickey's arm finds it's way behind your waist as he places a kiss to your temple, you're more than aware that his friends are looking at you, shock plastered across their faces.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry Y/N" Jake said, theatrically wiping sweat off of his forehead, giving you a quick side hug as a greeting, despite only meeting him a mere four hours ago. "I just couldn't keep it in. Our little Fanboy has a wife!"

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[callsign-muffin]

Heal Together: Chapter 5

(Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw fic)

I did it. I made the masterlist and started my playlist as well. They'll be linked at the beginning of every chapter, I'll add them to the old ones as well.

Masterlist + Playlist

Word Count: 1.9k+

You knew that you were good at your job but hearing someone not only tell you that but how you made them feel… your heart was soaring. You studied Bradley’s handsome face. You loved everything you saw, his puppy dog brown eyes, faded scars on his cheek, and a perfectly groomed mustache.

“I don’t know if you quite understand how much that means to me,” You inhaled slowly, “I see a lot of people who don’t get better.”

He squeezed your hand gently, stroking his thumb along the back, “I cannot even imagine what it’s like.”

“I don’t…” You stuttered, “... nevermind. Whatever, it’s not important.”

Bradley sat up quickly, “It is important. What you have to say is important.”

You signed, “I’m just burnt out. I thought that travel nursing, having a change of scenery every contract and the larger paychecks, would help with the feelings of overwhelming exhaustion… from caring for people who will never get better. But it hasn’t.”

“How long is your contract here?” He asked.

“Four more weeks but I’ve already been asked if I want to extend, they’re so understaffed… And I really love San Diego,” You explained, “So I’ll probably do it. But… I just don’t know how much longer I can do it.”

He nodded, selfishly so pleased that she wanted to stay here. “What about another unit? Another kind of nursing?”

You smiled weakly, “I’ve thought about it, I’ve thought maybe now would be the time to pivot towards the kind of nursing I actually want to do.”

“Which is?” He asked, tugging a little at the hand that was still in his, just beckoning for you to scoot closer.

You obliged but couldn’t look him in the eyes, “I wanna deliver babies.”

Bradley’s eyes lit up, “You would be incredible.”

Usually when you told people about your aspirations to go into labor and delivery, they’d say something like, “Isn’t that too big of a 180 from what you’re used to doing?” or “Good luck getting into that specialty.” Nobody ever unquestionably validated your desires.

“Yeah but those jobs are so hard to come by,” You shrugged, “They’ll never hire me.”

“So you’re telling me… that you… the nurse who had me extubated and breathing on my own before noon on the first day she met me, couldn’t get her dream job? Fucking nonsense.” He placed his hands on your shoulders and shook you gently.

You laughed nervously, mostly because you liked the feeling of having both his hands on you. “I mean…”

“Get up and get your laptop.” He demanded, “We’re looking for jobs.”

You blinked at him in disbelief.

He smirked, “It’s an order, Y/N.”

Bradley came back to your couch with another bottle of wine in hand, “Some liquid courage.”

You slid your glass across the coffee table towards him, “No applications are being sent under the influence, just looking.”

He sat down next to you, uncorking the bottle with ease and filled your glass, “Fine but I’m gonna be checking back in with you.”

“How?” You asked sassily, “You don’t even have my number, Bradshaw.”

“Well… I do know where you live but I’d rather be less of a fucking creep and just have you put your number in my phone.”

You held out your hand, “Cough it up, Chicken man.”

He rolled his eyes and handed you his phone, “It’s Rooster, Sassy pants.”

You started putting your information in his phone, “Should I put myself in as ‘Nurse Y/N?” 

Bradley laughed, “I mean you can, but I think we’re past the point of you just being my nurse.”

You raised your eyebrow, “Is that so?” 

“I mean… have you ever invited a patient into your apartment for a bottle of wine?” He asked. 

“I guess not,” you shifted in your seat and finished entering your info with just your name.

Bradley studied it when he took back his phone, “You might want to add a little heart in there… for good measure.” He handed the phone back and winked. Good god, he was so bold. It was so hot.

Your cheeks flushed but you did as you were told, adding a pink heart emoji next to your name.

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

“Bradley…” Y/N said softly after they had polished off their second bottle of wine.

“What’s got you worried?” Rooster asked, he could hear the concern in her voice.

“I…” she searched carefully for her words, “I’m not sure that you should drive home…”

He chuckled, “Trying to get me in bed already?”

Her cheeks flushed again, bright red. It was the cutest thing he’d ever seen in his life. “That’s not what I was getting at, Bradshaw! Get your mind outta the gutter!”

“Uh huh, sureeeeeeee!” He teased.

“If you have to know,” she explained, “I don’t think you should drive home because we’ve been drinking a lot. And the last thing I want is your ass back in my ICU.”

Bradley loved that she cared so much and was still a little silly about it, “I don’t drink and drive. I promise you that.”

She nodded, “Good because I’d respect you a hell of a lot less.”

“Let’s do this,” he proposed, “I’ll grab an Uber home, sleep off this wine, and then when I come to get my car in the morning, I’ll take you to brunch?”

A smile spread across her face, “I really like that idea.”

Rooster had never been so excited for a hungover Sunday morning in his life. He rarely drank wine, so he woke up with quite the headache but didn’t even care. Leaving Y/N’s apartment was uneventful, in all honesty. He didn't want to kiss her until she made it clear that she desperately wanted it. Yes, they were clearly into each other. But this wasn’t the type of girl he wanted to push too far too quickly, no matter how badly he wanted to taste her sweet lips. 

After showering off the hangover and making sure he smelled fresh, he changed into his usual civilian uniform. Jeans, a white undershirt, a Hawaiian shirt on top, and a pair of aviator sunglasses. Before leaving his bungalow, he checked himself in the mirror at least 15 times. Did he have anything in his teeth? Did his hair look stupid cuz it was still a little wet?

“Get it together, Bradshaw!” He muttered to himself.

He ordered his Uber and directs it right to the parking spot where he left his car in the back of your building. He quickly got in and headed towards the front. Deciding on music felt too time consuming, he just wanted to get to Y/N’s as soon as possible. When he pulled up to the front, he saw Y/N patiently waiting on a bench. Her legs were crossed, she intently stared at her phone, but looked up as soon as she heard the purr of Rooster’s car. A bright smile spread across her face as she stood up, Bradley’s mouth went dry seeing her in a floral sundress. Holy shit.

“Long time no see!” She chirped and tucked her phone into her purse.

Bradley climbed out of his car and met her at the passenger side door, opening it like the gentleman he is, “You look… wonderful.”

“Awww thanks, Bradshaw!” She buckled herself in, “Another Hawaiian shirt, I see.”

He jogged back around the car and hopped into the driver’s seat, “You’ve seen two of the many in my collection.”

When he turned the car on, Scar Tissue by Red Hot Chili Peppers started playing through the speakers.

“I love this song!” Y/N reached over and turned up the volume.

Despite having to drive, Rooster couldn’t help but intermittently look over and admire the woman sitting next to him, singing along quietly, with the wind whipping through her hair.

“Ugh!” She cried out over the music, “It’s so beautiful!”

Before he could stop himself from saying something so cheesy, he replied, “So are you.”

Y/N smiled sheepishly and didn’t know how to answer, so she started singing along with the Chili Peppers, “Blood loss in a bathroom stall, southern girl with a scarlet drawl…”

Rooster just smirked to himself and kept sneaking peeks at her, he loved leaving someone who always knew what to say speechless.

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █ 

You nervously stirred your iced latte a little too intently in its very aesthetic mason jar, trying to figure out how to tell him your news.

“What’s on your mind, Y/N?” He asked, resting his chin on his fists.

You smiled, “I sent in a couple job applications this morning.”

Bradley’s face lit up like a Christmas tree, “That’s amazing! Where abouts?”

“Naval Medical Center, obviously… UCSD, Scripps, Sharp…” You listed off the names.

“All in San Diego?” He asked.

You nodded, “I really really like it here, there’s nothing better than being able to walk to the beach on my day off.”

“I try to start most of my days off with a run on the beach, I don’t even need headphones sometimes… It’s nice to just listen to the waves.” He mused.

The cute server that took your drink orders popped back to your table asking about food orders.

Your eyes widened with embarrassment, you hadn’t even looked at the menu.

Bradley took one look at you and asked for the server to come back in a few minutes.

“I hadn’t even looked at the menu…” You giggled.

“It’s okay, I always get the same thing so I wasn’t looking either.” He said.

You looked down and scanned the menu, “How stereotypically California of me would it be if I ordered avocado toast?”

He chuckled, “Almost as stereotypically California as me, always ordering the breakfast burrito.”

“Are you from here?” You asked, since this was kind of a date, now would be a good time to ask these introductory questions.

“Kinda… My dad was a naval aviator too and he spent some time here before he died. But I grew up mostly in Virginia since that’s where my mom’s family is. But she died when I was sixteen. After college, I commissioned as an officer and haven’t really had a homebase since. I just go where the navy needs me” He explained.

You reached across the table and held out your hand, “I’m so sorry, Bradley. I can’t imagine that kind of loss.”

He sighed and placed his hand on top of yours, “Some days are easier than others, most days are, actually. I don’t remember much of my dad, I get upset with myself for it if I think about it too much.”

“How old were you when he died?” You asked.

At this point, Bradley was struggling to make eye contact with you. You could tell this was a really hard topic for him, “Four.”

“You were just a little guy… basically a toddler.” You tried to comfort him and stroke the back of his hand with your thumb, just like he did to you last night, “It’s not your fault that the memories are hazy.”

He nodded, “Yeah, I guess I never really realized just how young I was when he died.”

You desperately wanted to dig deeper and to learn more about the man in front of you and the people who raised him, but it didn’t feel like the right time. “This feels like a… sacred topic of conversation. Maybe we should put a pin in it and have it another time, maybe somewhere more quiet and private… when you’re ready.”

He squeezed your hand, “I would really, really love that, Y/N.”

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[vivwritesfics]

Hey!!! This is my first time requesting on your page. I was wondering if I could request a fic with Bob from Top Gun Maverick?

IRL I live pretty close to Miramar (like… a less than five minute drive, it’s that close lol), so maybe a fic where Bob meets reader when he’s out exploring San Diego or something else along those lines? Maybe at a bar or some other event/attraction.

Sorry if this request doesn’t make sense, I’m new to this sort of thing haha

A perfect request love! Sorry it took me so long to complete it

His truck broke down just outside of the café. He couldn't be mad, it was a wonder she (the truck) had even made it to Miramar in the first place.

Bob patted the steering wheel as he climbed out. "Sorry, old girl," he said and pulled out his phone.

It was cliché, the way his phone immediately died. He let out a groan and slipped the useless device back into his pocket. Desperately, he looked around for some sort help.

The café to his left looked inviting enough.

***

She'd never seen a man look so much like Squirtle before. It was a fleeting thought, though. He may have looked like Squirtle, but he was definitely handsome.

He looked almost shy as he approached the counter. "How can I help you today?" She asked him, a smile lighting up her face.

He pushed his glasses up his nose. "Sorry to bother you, ma'am," he began. Ma'am, it was enough to have anybody swooning. "But, uh, my truck broke down right outside and my phone died on me."

"Oh!" She said suddenly, and Bob nearly jumped. "I can call the mechanic for you!" She rushed to the back of the café, grabbed the phone from it's stand and walked back towards him. "Can I get you anything while you wait?"

Bob ordered himself a coffee while she called for the mechanic to come and pick up his truck. It wasn't lost on him that he was the only person in the café.

"Is it normally this empty in here?" He asked as she made his coffee.

She couldn't stop herself from looking shy. "Uh, I'm normally closed at this time," she mumbled, brandishing the broom to begin sweeping the floors.

Bob couldn't quite believe it. "You stayed open for me?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I couldn't just leave you outside with your broken truck," she said quietly, almost as if she was shy. It wasn't shyness, it was embarrassment. But she couldn't admit that she'd kept her café open because she found this man so damn attractive.

She kept him talking, kept him entertained until the tow truck turned up. When it did, it was almost disappointing. He left his coffee cup on the counter and turned towards her. "Thank you so much for all your help," he said. "I don't know how I'm ever gonna repay you."

Her smile was wide. "Well, you could always stop in tomorrow, repay me with your company," she said as she held the door for him.

"I'd like that."

Her tongue poked out from between her teeth for just a moment. "I'll see you tomorrow, Robert."

[beyondthesefourwalls]

This Love Came Back to Me (12)

Summary: You and Bradley hadn’t ended on bad terms; really, you stopped before the two of you could even truly begin. Still, in the last seven months, you had never completely left his mind. So when you suddenly appeared in front of him at the bar, asking for a favor and pulling him into a kiss, he thought maybe it was the perfect opportunity to see if this time, things could be different. But what neither of you realized was that there’s more going on than just rekindling a lost romance, and it might not be as easy as simply just wanting it. 

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: second chance romance, language, smut and allusions of smut, stalking, breaking and entering, unhealthy obsessions, delusions of feelings, unwanted attention.

Part Twelve Word Count: 6K

Part Eleven :: Series Masterlist

----

----

You felt almost hungover waking up on Monday morning, but you supposed that was to be expected after a week away. The relaxation you felt in the mountains was slowly but surely coiling back up to a thick cord of tension, made only easier by the man beside you. You were meeting Sadie for coffee near her office that morning, and he held your hand in his the entire drive, singing along to his 80’s playlist softly under his breath. 

The tall, dark haired woman greeted you both warmly with a vibrant pink folder in her hand. You tried not to be annoyed at how your name was written on the label. Your whole life and this whole situation was shrunk down to what would fit on a few pieces of 8.5 x 11 inch paper. It was a strange, unsettling feeling. 

Bradley let you do most of the talking, a supportive hand on your knee. The woman his best friend was besotted with read through the texts he had saved and all that had come in yesterday with a critical eye. 

“Well,” she said, a touch of sarcasm etched in her tone, “he’s certainly not doing himself any favors, is he?” Sadie flipped through the folder, pausing to jot down notes on one of the blank forms. She set her pen down when she was done, leaning back in her chair and sipping on her coffee. "If we can prove that he's been harassing you, I think we have a shot at the restraining order. I know it was disappointing not to get the emergency order, but that doesn’t mean you won’t get it when we go to court, okay?" 

You nodded slowly, trying to grasp onto the hope she was dangling in front of you. “Do we know when that is?” 

“We should hear something this week about a date, and he’ll be served the papers once a date is set.” 

Your breath hitched slightly at the thought of that happening, and Bradley must have caught it, because he squeezed your knee in reassurance before he started talking. “So what does she do between now and then?”

From across the table, Sadie shrugged and gave you a smile you knew was meant to be reassuring. She addressed you directly in her answer. “If he continues to reach out to you, document it all, but don’t respond to him. If you see him, try not to engage. Don’t give him a reason to think any of it is consensual or that you’re encouraging it. And I know it may be hard, but other than that…just try and live your life as normally as you can. I’ll handle the legal stuff. You focus on you.” 

You snapped the hair tie on your wrist once you were back in the passenger seat of the Bronco. You stared out the window as Bradley drove through mid-morning San Diego traffic toward one of the retail districts nearby, mulling over everything Sadie had said. She had been so insistent that this wasn’t your fault, and that you had a solid case, despite the judge’s first glance at your application not being enough. It felt good knowing you had someone in your corner like her, who knew the ins and outs of this kind of process. 

But your eyebrows furrowed as you thought about what she said about documenting every time he reached out to you and how it could ultimately help. You glanced down at the phone sitting in the cupholder. You had blocked every number Paul had contacted you from. You had even taken the initiative in blocking his email account, too. You were en route to get a new phone number. Now, though, you were wondering if you had jumped the gun in all of that. 

You liked to believe that getting a brand new number would mean that Paul wouldn’t be able to reach you. But if him reaching you could ultimately help you, to provide you with something tangible to use to take action against him….

You took a deep breath. You couldn’t believe it had gotten to the point where you were really considering letting this happen. 

Bradley reached across the seat to squeeze your hand, startling you. You were so lost in thought that you hardly noticed that he had pulled into a parking space in front of the cell phone carrier store. He must have clocked the change in your expression when you turned to look at him by the way his changed, too. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. You tried to figure out how to articulate what it was that you were feeling without making it seem like you had lost it completely. 

“Is this the best idea?” you finally settled on, and when your boyfriend asked you what you meant, you pushed forward. “Sadie said that anything he does can be used against him, to help prove he’s been…” you cut yourself off as the word popped in your head. It had been said earlier, and you knew deep down that’s exactly what it was. But saying that S word made it that much realer to you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to do it just yet. “To help prove he’s been doing everything he has. And if..If I disconnect my number, isn’t that almost like, I don’t know, getting rid of an opportunity?” 

He didn’t respond right away, but his grip on your hand tightened just the tiniest bit, and the thumb on his other hand tapped a quick rhythm against the steering wheel he was still holding. Those thick eyebrows of his that you loved so much furrowed together as he processed your jumbled explanation of feelings. Finally, he let go of your hand and reached to take the keys out of the ignition, killing the engine. He nodded toward the store in front of you.

“Let’s go inside. I have an idea.” 

He was out of the Bronco before you could protest, and you hurried after him, confused. He held his hand out to you from the sidewalk. 

“Bradley, what are we doing?” you asked, tugging him to a stop before you could get to the door of the store. He looked at you with what you could only describe as a determined look, touched with something close to desperation. 

“Just trust me, okay? And please don’t say no.”

His words left you even more confused, but there was something about his eyes and the feeling he was emanating that you couldn’t help but nod. 

He held the door open for you and you were approached by a salesman almost immediately, and before you could say anything when he asked if there was something he could help you with, Bradley was speaking up. 

“I was hoping to add a new phone and number to my plan.” 

“Of course. What’d you have in mind?”

He looked down to you with that same determined look on his face, but it was softer now. His smile was small but reassuring, and he squeezed the hand still held in his. 

“Pick out what you want.”

“B….”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you could hear the words he spoke into your hair, only for you. “This way you can keep the other one on but not have to worry about dealing with it. Because you’re right, it could be useful. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you put up with the stress of seeing it everyday. Please, Bug. Let me do this for you.” 

You knew how much Bradley cared for you, but this was a big gesture. You had never been one to accept help easily, especially not financially, and part of you felt that getting a new phone on his plan would be too much. It took you a moment, but eventually, you swallowed the protest that was ready on your lips. When you nodded, you both felt and heard the sigh of relief that he let out. 

You knew how supportive of your independence he was, but you wondered if sometimes what he needed was for you to let him do things like this. 

Picking something out was fairly simple, just going with an upgraded version of what you already had. You stood together at the counter as everything was set up and added, Bradley signing the necessary paperwork. You wrapped both your arms around one of his, pressing a kiss into his clothed bicep. You let your eyes flutter closed and breathed in the scent of him. He always had a way of calming your nerves and making you feel safe, even in the midst of chaos. You weren’t really sure what you did to deserve him, but you wanted to hold onto him forever.  

____

Sadie called you on Thursday, about an hour before you were scheduled for a phone interview for the job you were crossing your fingers for, to let you know that your court date had been set for 3 weeks out. You spent the next thirty minutes trying to breathe through the panic that settled on your chest like a semi-truck. Tears stung in your eyes, wondering how the hell your life had gotten to this point. Then your phone buzzed with a text from Bradley, and you couldn’t help the watery laugh that escaped you. 

Bradley🐓✈️❤️: You got this, baby! Proud of you. Have a great interview.

He always had a way of knowing exactly when you needed him, even if he didn’t realize it. You wanted to tell him about the court date, to seek that additional comfort that you knew he would provide you without question. But you remembered what both he and Sadie had told you earlier in the week, about living as normally as possible, and you knew they were right. You couldn’t let this ruin the possibilities in front of you. You wouldn’t. 

You typed out a response as you forced some of the anxiety out, taking exaggerated breaths to combat it until eventually, it worked. 

I love you, B.  

Bradley🐓✈️❤️: Love you, Bug. Go get ‘em. 

Despite the feelings that had threatened to overwhelm you right before the interview, you did go get ‘em, just like Bradley had said. You got an email about coming in for an in person interview less than two hours after you had hung up the phone, and it was the following Friday that found you sitting on the couch, waiting for Bradley to get home. You were practically vibrating with excitement by the time he finally walked through the door. He didn’t even get a chance to take his keys out of the lock before you were jumping up. 

“I got the job!” you blurted out. 

Bradley looked startled for a second, no doubt at how sudden and loud you spoke, and his forehead crinkled like he wondered what you were talking about before it clicked. His dark eyes widened and a grin started making its way onto his face as he dropped his bag and hurried to where you were standing in the living room of the apartment. “You got it?” 

You nodded rapidly, your giddy smile so large that it was making your cheeks hurt. “I got it.” 

Bradley yelled your name in excitement right before he swept you off your feet. You giggled as he spun you around, feeling weightless in his strong arms. “I knew you could do it!” Eventually, he set you down, but he didn’t let you go far. He pulled you flush against him in a tight embrace. 

"I'm so proud of you, Bug," he said, his voice conveying just how truthful he was being. “You deserve this.” 

You leaned into him, feeling safe and loved and happy in his arms. "Thank you,” you murmured, accepting the kiss that he placed on your lips. 

“We should celebrate,” he said. “Order in something delicious? Open another bottle of wine we got in San Bernardino?” 

That sounded lovely, and you absolutely wanted to do that. But aside from the meeting with Sadie almost two weeks ago and the in person interview that you had two days prior, you hadn’t left Bradley’s apartment since you got back from the cabin. You were hiding away, whether you admitted it or not. You didn’t want to do that anymore. 

“Let’s go out.” 

If Bradley was surprised, he didn’t show it. He didn’t ask if you were sure, or if you thought it was a good idea. He searched your eyes for nothing more than a moment before he was squeezing your hip and nodding. 

He trusted you enough to know that if you said it’s what you wanted, you meant it. And that meant more than you could ever say. 

You enjoyed dinner out at one of your favorite Mexican restaurants, sipping a margarita and eating your weight in chips and queso and spicy tacos. Bradley sat close to you in the booth, finishing off your plate when you couldn’t eat anymore, and you spent the entire meal laughing and flirting with one another like a regular date should be. And when you were done, you made your way to the Hard Deck. You had shot off a text to some of your friends while Bradley did the same to his before dinner, and you were ecstatic when you spotted Anna already amongst the rest of the aviators. You met her with a hug, and when she introduced you to her boyfriend, you were pleasantly surprised when Bradley already seemed to know him. 

“We’ve been deployed together before. He’s a good guy,” he told you once the two had made their way over to the bar for refills, and you couldn’t help the smile on your face at how things seemed to be falling into place. 

You greeted the rest of Bradley’s friends with the same enthusiasm, genuinely glad to see them.You hugged Jake and Javy a little harder, whispering a soft thank you to them. You had never gotten the opportunity to do so after they had went and got your car out of that parking lot all those weeks ago, but both of them just shrugged it off like it was nothing. You knew that everyone probably was aware of what was going on with you, at least to a certain extent, but you appreciated so much how they didn’t seem to look or treat you any differently than they had before. 

Bradley slipped a drink into your hand as you mingled with both of your friends. He was a warm presence at your back, his arm wrapped around you with one of his fingers hooked into the belt loop at the front of your jeans. You tilted your head back to look at him with a smile, and he clinked the rim of his beer bottle against the side of your glass. “Here’s to you, baby,” he murmured into your ear, and you couldn’t stop the shiver that went through your body. When Jake and Bob roped him into a game of pool at the tables not too far away a few minutes later, he pressed a kiss to the side of your head before walking off. 

You spent some time with Anna and her boyfriend, and talked with Mickey about the latest true crime documentary that you both had watched. It was after your dart had literally embedded itself into the wall when you were playing with Javy that you said you needed a break. There were tears in your eyes from how hard you were laughing, and your cheeks were starting to hurt from the permanent smile that had been on your face all night. Bradley was still enthralled at the pool table, so with a look in his direction, you headed to the bar by yourself for another refill. It wasn’t long before a shoulder was bumping into yours. When you looked over, you smiled in recognition at the dark haired woman beside you. You had greeted her earlier, but hadn’t really had the time for conversation before you were both pulled in opposite directions. 

“How are you?” Sadie asked. You thought about your day for a moment, how light and at ease you felt. 

“I’m good,” you answered honestly, “It’s been a really great day.” 

“I heard Bradley tell Natasha that you got that new job you were vying for - congratulations! You deserve it.” 

You felt the excitement hit you all over again at her words, and you knew your smile must look ridiculous at this point as you thanked her. 

“I’m glad to finally have something else, you know? This new place genuinely seems great, and it comes with a lot of opportunity.”

“Better than the toxic mess you’re at now?” 

You snorted, and it said a lot that not even the mention of your current job brought down your mood. Instead you tilted the freshly refilled glass in your hand in her direction. She set a hand on your wrist for a moment, and you could sense by the look in her eye that she was going to bring up something else about that situation before she even spoke. 

“Paul was successfully served his papers about you petitioning for a restraining order,” she told you, and you felt your breath hitch. She heard it too and shook her head. “This is a good thing. It means we’re one step closer to stopping him for good. That’s something to celebrate, too.”

You considered her words for a moment, and you weren’t sure if it was the drinks or just the energy of the night, but you found that part of you actually agreed with her. The mention of his name didn’t immediately make you feel like you were going to spiral, or stir up the same helpless feelings it normally did. Surprisingly, you didn’t feel much of anything at all. You were indifferent in a way that you hadn’t been before. So when Penny slid Sadie her own new drink, you raised your glass to hers, and you toasted to getting this whole thing over with. 

Not too much later, you wandered out through the side doors. It was getting hot inside the bar, and the cool night air was blissfully refreshing against your skin. It was surprisingly empty out on the deck, and you appreciated the solitude as you leant against the railing, looking out at the ocean. It was dark, but you could see the dark water and hear it crashing in the distance. You could still hear all the chatter and the juke box from inside the bar floating out, but it was muted, a reminder of where you were while still allowing you the peace and quiet. 

The door opened behind you a minute later, and a smile tugged at your lips as Bradley’s deep, raspy voice filled your ears, alerting you to his presence.

“Hey, you. What are you doing out here?” he asked, wrapping his arms around you from behind once he made it to where you were standing. A content noise escaped your throat as you settled back into his chest and laid your own hands over his at your waist. “You doin’ okay?” 

“I’m good,” you promised, “Just wanted some air. Was getting hot in there with all of those people.” 

You knew he’d know enough to guess that meant it was both the physical temperature, as well as your tendency to need a break from large crowds. It got too much for you sometimes, and on occasion, you just needed a few minutes by yourself to recenter and finish out the night. He hummed in response, and you knew he understood. 

You stood there together for a few long moments, not saying anything. You weren’t sure if it was a conscious movement, but he swayed your bodies slightly to the music floating out from inside the bar, some oldies tune that you weren’t sure the name of but you thought you had heard before - probably with him, no doubt. You relished just being in his arms like this. Eventually, though, he broke the peaceful silence. 

“Sadie told me something earlier,” he said, and you could hear the hesitancy in his voice, like he wasn’t sure if he should have brought it up before. You made a hum of recognition, nodding your head without looking at him. 

“Yeah, she told me too. About the papers.” 

Bradley paused as he seemed to gather what it was he wanted to say, so you continued on before he stressed over it too much, squeezing his forearm. “It’s okay. Surprisingly, I felt nothing when she told me. She said it’s something to celebrate because we’re one step closer to getting all of this over with, and I think I agree with her. That has to count as progress, right?” 

There was a beat of quiet as your words hung in the air before Bradley murmured your name softly. “Look at me?” he asked. 

At his request, you turned to face him. Your arms wrapped around his neck and toyed with the hair on the back of his head like you loved to do. He looked at you with a soft smile, his eyes shining.

“I’m really proud of you, you know that?” he spoke gently, tucking some of your hair behind your ear and trailing his finger down your face. You could feel the heat of affection creep up at his words. You weren’t really sure how to respond. His pride meant a lot to you. Truthfully, everything he did meant a lot. He had always been there for you, even that first night when he had no idea what was going on. He was unwavering in his support and you knew you would be in a completely different situation right now if he wasn’t by your side. You needed him, more than you ever thought possible. 

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol lowering your inhibitions or the emotions hitting you all of a sudden, or maybe a combination of both, but you found yourself feeling bold, craving him in a way that made your heart race.

"Bradley," you whispered, almost like you wanted to share a secret with him. "Can I tell you something?" 

"You can tell me anything," he replied, one hand slipping down your back and into the back pocket of your jeans as the other stayed on your face, his thumb rubbing your cheek softly. 

"I love you so much," you said, feeling the words spill out of your mouth without thinking.

Bradley's smile grew wider, pink dusting his cheeks.  "I love you too, Bug. More than anything."

Feeling emboldened by his words, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. The kiss was soft at first, but quickly became more passionate as the heat between you intensified. You couldn't get enough of him, and it seemed like he felt the same way. His hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer before he backed the both of you up into the railing behind you. You moaned into his mouth, feeling your body react. It was like your nerve endings were on fire. 

He pulled away, his breaths coming out in ragged pants as he looked down at you. His brown eyes were darkened with what was so blatantly desire, and you loved that he didn’t try to shy away from it. 

“Bug…” 

“I think I’d like to go home now,” you told him, your mind already made up. You pressed kisses into his jaw and down his neck as he groaned into the open night air. 

“Yeah,” he rasped, squeezing your butt through your pants before lifting you into his arms. You squealed as your legs wrapped around his waist and he started toward the parking lot. You didn’t even think about needing to go and say goodbye to all of your friends. “Home sounds like a good idea.” 

___

You weren’t slated to start at your new job until the following month, but Bradley convinced you that it wasn’t worth having any ties to the company that had caused all of the strife currently in your life for any longer. Your PTO was going to run out in the middle of the following week, and it was decided that you wouldn’t be going back at all. Not submitting a full two week notice was normally something that would make you feel guilty, but after the way they all treated you, you found you didn’t care all that much about how they would react. They were lucky you were going to do it in person to begin with. 

“I still think you should just send an email,” Bradley told you, his voice ringing through your car’s bluetooth as you drove toward your soon to be old office. It was late on a Wednesday afternoon, so traffic was light. 

“Dropping off my laptop and badge in person means I cut ties quicker,” you rebutted, just like you had done since you told him your plan. You had logged onto your work email last night just to put a meeting on Gretchen’s calendar for this afternoon, for the sole purpose of handing in your things and telling her you quit in person. You got a shot of amusement at imagining what her face was going to look like when you did. 

Bradley had wanted to accompany you for all of it, had hated the idea of you going to the office without him, in fact, but he hadn’t been able to slip away from his own work. He had tried to get you to wait until the next day, but you were stubborn. You wanted to get this over with. 

Bradley sighed on the other end, and you knew that was his concession. “Call me when you’re done?” 

“Of course, B.” 

Nerves twisted in your stomach as you made your way inside the building and pressed the button for the correct floor in the elevator. You took a deep, slow breath when the doors shut, trying to calm your beating heart. You weren’t sure why you were so nervous, but you supposed it was normal. 

“You can do this,” you whispered to yourself. You cracked your neck and pushed your shoulders back when the elevator doors slid open, revealing the lobby you had become familiar with for the last year. You walked down the hallway with purpose, and you could feel stares as you did. You knew the majority of your team - Paul included - were in a meeting right now, based on the shared calendars you had taken a look at. But that didn’t mean others wouldn’t look just as hard. You knocked on Gretchen’s door with a firm fist, and she had barely started saying “come in” when you were twisting the knob and opening the door. 

She sat behind her desk, her blonde hair as pinstraight as always, and a perfectly manicured nail tapped against her crossed arms. A single eyebrow was raised, and her face just screamed condescension. Any guilt you may have harbored left you as soon as you saw her, and you set your laptop and your badge on her desk with a clank. 

“I quit.” 

The unpleasant, sour look that Gretchen’s face twisted into stayed with you as you made your way from her office and over to HR, and then all the way back to the elevator, too. You were practically floating at how satisfied you felt. You were so proud of yourself, and so damn relieved for finally being done with this place. You had said your peace and then some, and now you were done. It was a long overdue feeling. 

You pulled your phone out once you were in the elevator, and your grin was so persistently large that you thought it’d get stuck there. Bradley picked up almost immediately, and you were sure he had been waiting for your call. 

“How’d it go?” 

“Gretchen looked like a Warhead got stuck in her throat, and I have never felt so satisfied about causing those feelings in someone.” 

Your boyfriend barked out a laugh on the other end, and the sound just made you smile wider. “She deserves it. I’m proud of you, baby.” 

You didn’t think you would ever get tired of hearing his praise. It caused a warmth to spread through your whole entire body, and you were already ready to be back in his presence again. You got your keys out of your bag as you walked out of the building and into the parking lot. “Thanks, B. Are you still meeting me at the house?” 

That had been the other part of your plan today. You were going to kill two birds with one stone and go to the house and pack up more of your stuff, as the end of your lease was rapidly approaching. Since he hadn’t been able to come with you, instead, you had agreed that he would meet you at the house after you left the office to help. You knew, also, that he didn’t like the idea of you being there on your own. Truthfully, you didn’t either, so you were glad for his insistence. 

“I’m packing up to leave and head in that direction in the next five minutes.” 

“Alright. I’m going to go to the store and grab some boxes and tape and stuff, and then I’ll head that way. You might beat me there.” 

“That’s fine,” he assured you, and with how quick he said it, you were sure that was actually his preference. You felt yourself soften a little bit. You knew he hated not being with you right now.

“I’ll text you when I leave the store,” you promised him as you unlocked your car. “Hey, B?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I love you.” 

You pulled out of the parking lot once you had hung up with him, and you were so focused on the elation you had been feeling and what you needed to do that night, that you hadn’t even seen who else had been in the parking lot with you. 

___

You didn’t spend any more time than necessary in the store, simply running in and grabbing what you needed. Your trunk and backseat were full of boxes and packing supplies, and you shot a text off to Bradley as you had promised once you slid into the front seat. He called you when you were pulling into the neighborhood. 

“There was an accident or something on the freeway,” he told you, and you could hear the frustration in his voice. “Traffic’s backed up, so I’m still like 15 minutes out.” 

“No worries,” you reassured him, “I’m almost there. I can get started.” 

There was a pause on the other end of the phone, and Bradley sounded hesitant when he finally spoke again. “Bug…wait for me to go inside, please.” 

“B…” 

He must have heard the argument in your voice, because he was quick to continue, the words rushing out. “I know I’m probably just being paranoid and overprotective. But humor me, please? Just wait for me. I should be there soon.” 

You pulled into the driveway that wouldn’t be yours for much longer and put the car in park. You knew where he was coming from. Truly, you did. You knew that he had every right to feel that way, and you felt warm at him wanting to protect you. 

Bradley let out a sigh of relief when you finally murmured your agreement to stay put. “Thank you, baby. I’ll be there soon okay? I love you.” 

“I love you too. See you in a few.” 

You hung up the phone and rested your head back against the seat, figuring you might as well get comfortable. You scrolled through your social media aimlessly for a few minutes, but the longer you sat there, the more restless you became. You were eager to get inside and start packing. The quicker you did that, the quicker you would be able to get out of this place for good. A quick glance at your clock said that it was nearing 5pm now, and you knew that there was always a team meeting at this time that Paul would be in. There was no chance. 

From when you hung up with him, you figured Bradley would be there in five, ten minutes, tops. 

It would be fine. 

With that in mind, you grabbed your keys and got out of the car. You grabbed some of the boxes from the trunk and made your way to the front door. You felt the familiar anxiety settle over you as you fumbled with the lock, but you figured it was normal - expected, really, all things considered. 

It would be fine. 

It was quiet when you walked inside. The air felt almost stale inside, stifling, and there was a weird smell that made your nose scrunch. The eerie quiet sent a shiver down your spine. The first order of business would be hooking your phone up to the bluetooth speaker to surround you with noise instead of this, and maybe lighting a candle. 

You dropped your keys into the bowl at the door and set the boxes down against the back of the couch. You had only taken a few steps in when you stopped in your tracks. 

Your eyebrows furrowed, and it felt like your heart stopped before it started beating again at a rapid pace. 

Your kitchen counter was littered with flowers. Many of them were dead, stems bent and empty, the petals having wilted and fallen from them, the water inside of the vases murky and old. Some were in a weird inbetween stage, a few petals missing but hanging onto some color. And there, front and center, was the biggest vase out of the bunch. The followers were clearly fresh, so much so that you could almost smell them, if it weren’t for the sour odor of the old ones. Your brain itched with recognition, and you let out a shaky breath when you realized this bouquet was identical to the ones Bradley had delivered to your office months ago, when you first got back together. Identical to the ones that Paul had then gotten you the next day. 

There was a folded piece of paper leaning against that vase with your name scrawled across it. Alarm bells were ringing in your head, but you swallowed thickly and took slow, tentative steps.  When you got close enough, you could see how there were insects crawling amongst the dead arrangements covering your counter. Your hands were shaking as you reached for the note. 

You let out a sound that you could only describe as horrified when you read the words. 

Welcome home - I’ve been waiting for you. 

You stumbled over your own feet as you took startled steps back.Your vision blurred with tears and panic was settled so heavily on your chest that you couldn’t breathe. You needed to leave. You needed to go back out the door you just came through and wait for Bradley. You had to get away. You needed to get out. 

You whipped around, ready to run for the front door, but you didn’t even get a step in before a scream ripped from your throat. 

“You’re finally here.” 

Paul was standing right there in front of you, between you and the front door.  

You were hit with a gut wrenching, terrifying, twisted and sinking realization that you were alone with him. 

You were alone with him, and you had nowhere to go. 

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

Part Thirteen :: Series Masterlist :: Main Masterlist

Notes: YIKES, BUG!! WHY'D YOU HAVE TO GO INSIDE?! Sorry for the wait on this one, and for being so delayed with responses to the previous part! Life is lifeing, folks. We're almost at the end! Likes/comments/reblogs are the best encouragement for posting more🖤

Thank you to Mak and Em for all of your help making this story come to life. And thanks to Mak for the AMAZING banner!

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[garfield-mug]

Can I request a Bob blurb? Maybe he has a really hot girlfriend and nobody believes him until they meet her? You can do whatever you want with this!

A/N: for the purposes of this story, the daggers are permanently stationed in san diego. idk if this really fits the request, but i look at bob and immediately think that man can dance, so....

also, the squad gives bob a bit of a hard time in this one, but i promise they love each other lmao and the length of this may have gotten away from me, but i had fun, so it's okay lol and this isn't proofread bc i'm tired so excuse any spelling errors (i'll stop talking now byeee!)

(p.s. see if you can spot the movie reference, 10 bonus points to whoever points it out)

Word Count: 2.2k

Content Warnings: none unless you don't like dancing ;)

Cheek to Cheek

Bob knew he wasn't really a "ladies' man." He was rather quiet and reserved, keeping to himself most of the time. He wasn't cocksure and forward, like Jake. He wasn't a goofy, shameless flirt, like Bradley. He didn't consider himself shy; he wasn't afraid to engage in conversation or make friends. Bob just preferred to sit back and observe. He liked to watch and listen, getting a good read of every room he walked into. Watching and listening was how he noticed you.

You were a sight to behold. Bob reasoned that you had to be new to the club because he would've noticed you before.

Bob doesn't get much downtime, but when he does, he likes to spend it at the San Diego Swing Dance Club. Since he was little, Bob loved to dance. He remembers his mother teaching him a basic waltz when he was about seven. Gliding and twirling around the living room on top of his ma's feet are some of his fondest memories. He started ballroom classes when he was around twelve (he wanted to impress his date to his very first dance) and fell even more in love with the art. His repertoire grew and grew, having meticulously memorized different styles (paso doble was his favorite). He still loved dancing as he grew older, able to turn on the charm as easy as he knew the moves. He loved the way dancing made him feel. Bob never felt more free than when he was drifting about the dancefloor, leading his partner. He thought it was the closest you could get to flying while staying on the ground.

That's why, when he noticed you, he knew he had to have a dance. Thankfully, his regular partner, Julie, understood and agreed to the switch for the night (she was a great wingwoman). For as often as he was in his head, Bob usually never got nervous. He was nervous approaching you. He remembers it like it was yesterday. It was Lindy Hop night and you were wearing grey striped slacks, a white blouse with the sleeves rolled up to your elbows, and an old, beat up pair of white slip-on vans. He was in his usual button down and slacks. One look at you and he knew he was a goner. You looked a bit disheveled, hair haphazardly put up and out of your face, making small talk with a few other members of the group. He thought you looked ever so slightly out of place and that it was so, so endearing.

Eventually, he worked up the courage to ask you for a dance. It did take more than a few pep talks from Julie to get him to go over to you, but she didn't have to literally drag him there, so it was a success. He asked for a dance, holding out his hand. You said yes.

One dance turned into two, then three, and eventually you'd danced the whole night away. You'd exchanged numbers before going home and then you weren't just meeting once a week at the dance club. You were making time to see each other whenever possible. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. It had now been six months since you and Bob made it official and you couldn't be happier.

Now, it made sense with his job and his general personality why the rest of the Dagger Squad hadn't known about you. They'd had conversations about their love lives often, but Bob had never really volunteered much information. You two had a good thing going and he liked to keep good things to himself for a while. Plus, the conversation rarely ever got turned his way. Bob was... very unassuming. The rest of the squad, except for Nat, never really inquired much about Bob's love life. It's not like Bob was purposely keeping you from his friends— it just never really came up. Nat was the only one who knew Bob was seeing someone and she was keeping it close to her chest out of respect for her friend and WSO, but also in the event that it spawned a bet. A bet she would surely win.

Eventually, one evening at the Hard Deck, the Daggers were all discussing their love lives once again. Mickey turned to Bob and asked if he was seeing anyone.

"I am, actually." Bob felt 5 more pairs of eyes snap to him, a collective "what?!" buzzing in the air at their inquisitive looks.

"You're seeing someone?" Jake asked, partially stunned. Bob wasn't offended, he knew he presented as a bit of a wallflower, and he was okay with that.

"What, you jealous, Bagman?" Bradley couldn't help himself. Jake's gaze snapped to the other aviator, challenging. Despite them both being on... better terms after the uranium mission, they still liked to jab at each other. Jake was usually better at it— slow, persistent needling while keeping a calm and collected facade. Bradley was more direct, favoring an immediate reaction over slow buildup.

Before Jake could respond, Bob cut in, turning the focus back to him.

"Matter of fact, I am," He sat a little straighter, dusting his pants of remnants of the peanuts he was snacking on. Natasha took a swig from her beer to hide the sly grin that was threatening to break across her face.

"Romantically? You're seeing someone romantically?" Reuben questioned.

"Sure am." Bob pushed his glasses further up his nose. He was thinking about you and how he wished you'd been able to come out tonight. You had talked to Bob about coming by to meet his friends, but scheduling conflicts always arose.

"What's her name?" Mickey asked.

"What's she look like?" Nat played into it, ignoring the pointed look Bob shot her way. He was still thinking of you, particularly about how darling you looked when you writhed underneath him, but they didn't need to know about that. Instead, Bob refocused, a dreamy smile taking over his features and a rosy blush creeping up his neck, landing on his cheeks. He couldn't help but look at the ground for a few moments, then he relayed your name. It felt so natural falling from his lips. The squad was eager for more information.

"She's just... perfect. She's smart and funny and so, so beautiful. She's got these eyes that just... and her smile?" Bob sighs, he actually sighs.

"I don't buy it." Jake is the first to burst the bubble. "I mean, we ask you what she looks like and all you give us is "oh, her eyes, her smile"? No way," Jake throws back the rest of his drink. Mickey and Reuben nod, signaling their agreement. Natasha smiles devilishly to no one but herself.

"C'mon, Bagman, he's clearly telling the truth. I mean, look at him. He's actually lovesick." Bradley chimes in. He knows what a man in love looks like.

"Yeah, it's kind of disgusting," Javy pipes up, firmly siding with Bradley.

"Well boys," Nat claps Bob on the shoulder. "Looks like we have a bet on our hands." She watches the men around the high-top table, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Hundred dollars in the pot says Bob's mystery girl is real. You in?"

Nat pulls out five twenty dollar bills, placing them in the middle of the table. Bob watches in amusement.

"Steep price, Natty, but I'll bite." Jake throws his wager in as well.

Eventually, everyone put some money in the pot, much to Nat's satisfaction, even if she would have to split the prize money.

"Alright, alright... When and where can we meet your lovely lady?" Jake asks Bob, who is glancing down at his watch.

"Uhh, this Thursday at the San Diego Swing Dance Club. Seven-thirty, sharp. Wear something nice, but comfortable." With that, Bob was throwing on his jacket and out the door, headed home to see you. He wouldn't have left so abruptly, but you'd sent him a text and he wasn't going to keep you waiting.

The Daggers were even more perplexed. Well, all except for Nat, but the rest didn't need to know about it.

"San Diego Swing Dance Club?" Reuben was taken aback. Jake was thoroughly amused.

"Oh I have got to see this now."

-

The week flew by, and eventually it was Thursday evening. You were excited to finally meet Bob's friends, he talked about them so often. You'd be lying if you said you weren't a bit nervous, fretting over your outfit and hair more than usual, not to mention your makeup.

"Babydoll, you'll look beautiful no matter what you choose." Bob had been sitting on your bed for the better part of an hour now, as you agonized over your outfit choice.

You sighed, coming to sit next to him. "I just want to make a good first impression." You rest your head on his shoulder.

"I promise they'll like you no matter what you wear." Bob presses a kiss to your temple. You take a deep breath and close your eyes.

"I'll go with the plaid pants then."

Bob huffs out a laugh, "Alright, baby."

-

The Daggers arrived at seven-thirty, sharp. Just like Bob had told them. Nat sent Bob a text, letting him know that they'd arrived. He excused himself from the group to collect the rest of his friends. He was excited, happy to share one of his passions with the people he called friends. He was also happy to finally introduce his girl to the rest of his friends. Bob made his way over to the rest of the squad, clustered awkwardly by the main entrance of the dance hall.

"Glad you could make it!" Bob pulls Natasha in for a hug and greets the rest of the guys in a similar fashion.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Bobby." Jake says, eyes sweeping the room for a lady to take home for the night. Bradley and Javy were doing the same. Mickey and Reuben had brought partners for the evening— a double date.

The group fell into their usual rhythm, easy conversation and a few friendly jabs here and there. Almost forgetting the reason why they were there. Almost. Jake was just about to bring up the fact that they still had yet to meet Bob's mystery girl, when the intro to Thurston Harris' Little Bitty Pretty One started playing from the bandstand. It was jive night, which just so happened to be your favorite. Scanning the crowd, your eyes found Bob talking with his friends. 'Well, it's now or never,' you thought, and you were beelining towards your boyfriend so you could make it onto the floor for the first dance. Bob was just telling Nat about this new recipe he tried out for dinner when he felt a tug on his arm. He turned to look at you and smiled.

"Bobby c'mon, can't miss the first dance!"

He looked back at his friends, "Be right back," and Bob was off to the dancefloor with you. The Daggers watched as he whisked you away, stepping into a seamless jive. You felt like you were positively flying, floating through the air, feet touching every cloud. The way you and Bob danced together was something special. You could read each other in a way most dance partners wished they could. Feeling the music, keeping in time with the rhythm, anticipating and adapting to every move the other made. Improvisation was the purest form of art, the amount of trust placed in your partner is unlike anything else. You and Bob had something special, there was no denying that, especially as you were twirling across the floor.

"Who knew he could move like that?" Javy had to pick his jaw up off the floor.

"They make it look so effortless," Reuben looked utterly amazed.

Jake had to admit, he was impressed. Game recognizes game and damn it, Bob Floyd had game. It really was always the quiet ones. You were pretty, and you seemed fun. You seemed like you'd be good for Bob, even though they hadn't technically met you yet. Jake couldn't even be mad that he'd lost the bet. What he needed now was to learn how to dance like Bob because apparently, that was a great way to meet a lady. You and Bob were out of breath when you rejoined the group, introductions going a smooth as ever. You like the squad and the squad liked you. By the end of the night, you and Bob had shown everyone how to do a basic jive. Reuben, Mickey, and Javy caught on quickly, feeling comfortable enough to join the people out on the main floor. Bradley and Jake needed... help. Nat was managing, wanting a bit more time to figure the steps out before trying them on the floor.

Before everyone knew it, it was ten o'clock and the band was saying goodnight. You and Bob were saying your goodbyes, ready to head home. Once you and him were out the door, Natasha turned to Bradley and Javy.

"Alright, we split this three ways and make sure to absolutely rub it in Jake's face." Nat divvies up the cash and Bradley and Javy take their cuts. Javy gives a curt nod and a smile before walking to his car.

Bradley turns to Natasha. "Can I walk you to your car?" He offers his arm.

"Sure," Nat smiles and accepts.

[bussyslayer333]

Heart Out

summary: your boyfriend proves his love for you on the beach, so you prove yours in the hard deck bathroom.

pairing: jake seresin x penny’s niece!reader

word count: 2.8k

warnings: smut at the end once again,, but it’s jakes turn this time :0, some swearing, and mentions of dilfs/daddy issues LOL,, MDNI 18+

ps this is my lil continuation of jake x penny’s niece!reader bc i love them <3

((it can be read separately ofc !!))

requests are open as always !!!

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿

Today had been dreadfully boring. Your aunt Penny was out all day at the Hard Deck working on accounts and you couldn’t even pester your little cousin Amelia because she had also been out all day with friends. You’d thought about visiting Jake at work but you weren’t sure whether you were at that stage of your relationship yet. So instead, the best option seemed to be lounging around in your underwear watching Desperate Housewives reruns in the living room. As you flopped over onto your front trying to escape the San Diego heat that you still weren’t accustomed to, a notification popped up onto your phone.

cowboy ❤️

come join me at the beach?

photo

You opened the message to a selfie from Jake in what appeared to be the Hard Deck bathrooms. He was stood shirtless flexing his arms into the mirror doing a little pouty face staring down the camera. You giggled at his stupidly handsome face that somehow manages to look good no matter what he was doing.

You

are you not at work? ❤️

cowboy ❤️

annual dogfight football baby

With that message accompanied a picture Jake had taken over his shoulder of Rooster and Mav shirtless and covered in sand. Suddenly it clicked why your aunt had travelled to the bar to complete tasks which definitely could have been finished at home. Deciding to wind Jake up you replied to the second picture he sent, ignoring his first selfie

You

how does mav still look so good? talk about dilf 🤤

Giggling as you sent the message you put your phone down and decided to finally peel yourself away from the couch to start getting ready for the beach.

Flipping through the variety of swimsuits you had bought with you, you wondered which one Jake would like best. Although Jake would like to call himself a man of taste, when it came to his girl his taste in her clothing was sparse to say the least. Settling on a blue two piece with strings that tied it all together, you moved to pick up Jake’s button up that you had kept since one fateful night in his truck. It was light blue and quite fitted on him but it hung nicely on you and could work as a cover up if the sea breeze became too strong.

You span around to look at yourself in the floor length mirror in the corner of your room. Jake was going to love this. You plucked your sunglasses from the bedside table and placed them on your head so you could finally make your way back downstairs to your phone and tote bag.

Picking up you phone you smirked at Jake’s many replies.

cowboy ❤️

shut up

you’re not being serious right?

because i don’t know the ins and outs of your relationship with your father for that to be a funny text

that emoji makes it seem like a joke

i mean yeah ig he keeps it tight for a guy who gets senior discounts

You interrupted his next text by gracing him with a response.

you

shush jake obv im joking

….we will talk later tho

You then sent a photo of yourself in the mirror near the front door, chest pushed slightly out. You knew your audience.

cowboy ❤️

ur such a tease

you

see u soon flyboy <3

The drive down to the Hard Deck is brisk, not much traffic for a midweek afternoon in Miramar. As you pull into the Hard Deck’s parking lot you recognise a few of the pilots cars and you pull in next to Rooster’s bronco, scoffing at the fuzzy dice hanging from his rear view mirror. That boy was seriously stuck in the 70s.

Moving out of your car, you walk down to where you can see your aunt ‘working’ on one of the benches outside of the Hard Deck that faces the beach front. She slowly averts her gaze from Mav and smiles up at you,

“Hi darling, I wasn’t expecting to see you here?” You giggle as her attention slips from you again when Mav throws the ball particularly well over to Payback.

“Yeah, Jake text me asking if I wanted to join.” She giggles at your dreamy smile and pulls you down onto the bench next to her. Once you’re sat and your belongings have been placed down next to Penny’s you scour the group of pilots to find your boyfriend.

However, as you rake over the group you come to the realisation that he isn’t stood with them. That put an odd feeling in your stomach, Jake was never ever one to miss out on a competition. As you were about to question you aunt, you saw Bob approach with an uneasy look on his face.

“Hey, are you looking for Jake?”

You nod, spurring him on.

“He’s a little further down the beach, with um.. those two girls,”

Your gut twinges again as you look to where Bob is facing, lo and behold Jake is stood pointing something out to two tall slim girls. You weren’t jealous per se, you had no real reason to be. He wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary, as annoying as it was, girls always seemed to flock to Jake. You weren’t jealous because Jake was the one to express his interest in you first, he knew what he wanted and it was you. Still your gut twinged. You looked to Bob, then stood up abruptly.

“Pen, do you mind looking after my stuff?” You turned to ask your aunt and she hummed absentmindedly, still entranced by her boyfriend. You took the hum as a yes and kicked your slides off ready to go find your boyfriend.

Bob took this as a sign to take off back to the group still playing football and watched your figure retreat to where Jake was standing with the two girls, smiling as they laughed at something he had said.

One of the girls smacked Jake’s chest lightly as she laughed far too hard for what Jake had said. This was when you began to feel slightly angry, you knew that type of laugh. You’d used it before. On Jake nonetheless. No man was ever that funny, especially Jake.

As you came into Jake’s view, his smile widened which made you falter slightly, in what was quite a stompy walk. Reminded of the fact that you were wearing his shirt and his favourite bikini you tried to style out your march into more of a cool girl saunter.

Jake lifted his sunglasses once you were stood in front of him and sucked in a breath as he took in your attire. He lifted his hand from his side and started to play with the hem of his shirt which hung from your frame.

“Wow..”

“Hey baby,” you smiled at him then turned to the two girls who appeared slightly confused by what was occurring in front of them.

“And you guys are…” okay maybe you were slightly snappy, but did these girls still have to hang around when they now clearly knew Jake was taken.

The brunette one of the two spoke up, “Jake, are you not gonna introduce us?”

Jake looked up and scoffed slightly at the girls audacity, he shared a look with you that had you holding in a giggle.

“…right, Brianna, Stace, this is my beautiful girlfriend.” At his statement you smiled up at him, bashful at his compliment and at the thought that you had previously had in which he completely ignored you in favour of his two new friends.

“Hi..” you smiled at the girls with more pep in your step.

The red head (Brianna?) then spoke up, “Oh.. this is your girlfriend?” With distaste on her tongue which made Jake seethe.

“What I just said.” He spoke shortly back to her.

Her friend clearly sensed the tension bubbling and tried to smoothen out the situation, “I think she just means we weren’t expecting to meet her,” she smiled apologetically at you.

You smiled back appreciatively and spoke up, “Well we should really be getting going, I have a game of football i need to see my boyfriend win, it was nice meeting you girls!”

Jake had already began to move away, dragging you along with him as you waved at the two girls when Brianna (?) spoke again,

“Wait Jake! Didn’t you want my number?”

You both turned back to see her friend look confusedly at her and Jake scoffed once again,

“Yeah, no thanks pal.”

You struggled to hold your giggle in again at Jake’s passive aggressive word choice and continued your walk back towards the rest of the pilots who were now taking a break from their game.

“God can you believe them?” Jake asked you exasperatedly, “you look so unbelievably hot right now by the way doll, is that my shirt?”

“They weren’t tooooo bad..” you giggled and nodded at Jake. He continued on,

“I mean they dragged me from the group asking where the closest place was to get food that wasn’t made behind a bar but then when I tried to point places out they just kept going on and on and on and on and-”

“Jake shut up would you?” You said as you finally reached the group sat outside the Hard Deck.

“Hey!” He said and smacked your ass lightly to emphasise his annoyance. You turned and stuck your tongue out at him as Rooster spoke up,

“Finally able to shake you two new best friends then ?”

Phoenix snorted and turned to you, “Babe you should have seen the way they were eyeing Jake up before they finally went in for the kill.” You giggled along next to her at her interesting choice of analysis for the two girls.

Jake had started his own conversation with Coyote and Bob when you finally turned back to look at him and finally realised you hadn’t got the chance to admire how handsome he looked right now. You suddenly couldn’t feel it in you to be angry at the girls and their failed attempts at flirting. The late afternoon sun was warm against your skin and made the remnants of sea water on Jake’s chest glimmer. His dark navy swim shorts hung dangerously low on his hips and his ray bans were sat just slightly too far down on his nose so he had to bring a hand up to push them back upwards, afterwards he raked said hand through his windswept hair and you embarrassingly felt you stomach flutter at the action.

You laced your fingers through his other hand which was still resting low on your hip and squeezed. He turned his head slightly indicating that you had his attention whilst he still managed to listen to Coyote’s ramblings. Standing on your tip toes you whispered into his ear,

“I’m going to go into the bathroom in the Hard Deck in a second and your going to follow in after me in about two minutes, okay?”

Jake looked down at you and smirked at your playful expression, he tipped his head up slightly in a showing of understanding and he dropped his hand from your hips to let you excuse yourself.

Jake watched your retreating form with his eyes trained on the sway of your hips and a smile plastered on his face. He pulled his phone from the pocked of his shorts and checked the time. 16:43. Two minutes and he could follow in after you.

Those last two minutes of Jake’s life seemed to be the longest he’d ever lived through.

He followed your previous path towards the bathroom at the back of the Hard Deck and knocked on the locked door. You open the door to a smiling Jake Seresin.

“Hi doll,” he smirks down at you. You pull him into the bathroom and lock the door behind him, wary of your surroundings.

He has one hand placed on the side of your face with the other groping your ass making you whine out at the contact. Jake leans down and kisses you slowly and sweetly, he goes to slip his tongue into your mouth but before he can you’re pulling away to shed yourself of his shirt and pull your hair up using the spare hair tie on your wrist.

Jake watches with his mouth hanging slightly open as you drop to your knees in front of him smiling sweetly.

“Not that I’m complaining sweetheart but what on earth did I do to deserve this ?”

Tugging at the drawstring holding his shorts up you stare up at him, “you defended my honour in front of those two wenches, oh valiant solider!”

Jake rolls his eyes at your dramatics, but he can see that you truly are grateful for his actions. The thing with you and Jake is that he always understands what you truly mean, even if you mask it behind layers of dry humour, built up for your protection.

You finally undo the knot holding Jake’s shorts so low on his waist (and make a mental note to tease him later on for his navy level drawstring knot) and look up to Jake for conformation.

“Please baby,” he almost whimpers down at you .

You smile at his whiny tone and pull his shorts down enough to release his cock and kitten lick against his leaking tip, making him shudder slightly in pleasure. You grasp him with you right hand and start slowly stroking, watching carefully at what movements make Jake react the most.

He begins to fiddle with the tie at the back of your neck which holds your bikini top together to try and distract him from letting out a groan too loud which could alert anyone outside of your whereabouts.

You lean down again and spit onto his tip, using you tongue to spread the wetness of your saliva and his precum along the length of his cock.

After spending your first night with Jake you realised he had enough of a reason to be so cocky. He was big. (not that you felt the need to tell him and boost his ego even further).

Sinking your mouth down onto him you breathed carefully through your nose and let him hit the back of your throat. Jake released a throaty groan in response to the action and moved his hand into your hair to pull at it lightly causing you to moan onto his shaft. The vibrations make Jake whine even louder into his fist. Spurred on by his noises you continue to move up and down on him sloppily, clenching your thighs at the sounds being pulled from his throat.

The final straw for Jake was when you looked up at him through you long wet lashes as you pulled off of him, with a long string of spit connecting your lips to the tip of his cock.

“Fuck baby, I’m so close.” Jake whimpered.

You take him back into you mouth and trace the vein on the underside of his cock with your tongue. You sloppily continue to suck as Jake’s whines reach a crescendo and he spills into your mouth with a deep grunt. His grip on your hair loosens and you pull your mouth away, careful to keep his cum inside of your mouth. Some slips out the sides of your lips as you swallow and you allow it to drip down in between the valley of your breasts for Jake to admire.

“You are too fucking good to me doll,” Jake speaks breathlessly, helping you up onto unsteady feet.

You giggle up at him, “You can repay the favour later cowboy don’t worry.”

He smirks down at you and rights his shorts swiftly. As he looks back up he uses his fingers to collect his seed that collected in between you breasts and pushes them into your mouth for you to suck clean. Once you finish he pulls you into a searing kiss and licks his tongue around your mouth, moaning at the taste of himself on your tongue.

You pull away, slightly light headed and turn to the mirror to right yourself. Jake stands behind you in the mirror and pulls his button down onto you, smiling at your reflection. You turn around and peck him quickly and reach for the door to let yourselves out.

Walking into the main area of the Hard Deck with Jake behind you, you notice your aunt looking at you with her signature smirk on her face and you blush under her gaze. She wonders when you and Jake will finally stop defiling her property.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿

a/n: i love these two, jake is much less suckier than he is in my first fic bc i think he is actually so boyfriend !!!!

hopefully you all enjoy this!!! and thank you so much for all the notes on my other two pieces !! i promise i will get to any requests as soon as :)

pls reblog and comment and tell me what you think <333

- honey :0

[mynameismckenziemae]

In Case You Didn’t Know

Part 8

(previous part here, next part here)

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x OFC

Summary: Bradley greets you at the airport and you find something interesting while packing up Jake’s apartment.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, this one gets a bit kinkier 😏🥴smut, mutual masturbation, toy use, ass play

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

“How much stuff do you have in San Diego?” You ask as you towel-dry your hair.

“Not much, mostly just clothes. The apartment came with furniture and never felt like getting my own. Guess even my subconscious knew I wasn’t planning on staying there long-term. I asked because I really just want you to come with me and meet the crew.”

“Good, your clothes should fit here, unless you have more than me. I wasn’t sure how we’d fit furniture though. And of course, I’ll come,” you smile. You’ve seen pictures but were excited to meet the people you’ve heard so much about.

He’s stuck on the first part of your reply. “You want me to move in?”

You nod. “I do, if you want to. I love waking up to you every morning. Even if you do hog the covers.”

“Do not,” he argues, snapping you with his wet towel.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Jake: I told her about the job and moving back home. She asked me to move in…like fully move in since I’m already basically living here.

🐓: Nice! Is she coming with you to get things settled here?

Jake: Yes. I ordered the ring today, it should be here by Tuesday. Are you sure you don’t mind recording? My ma will kill me if she doesn’t see it. She’s already mad she won’t be there. 🙄

🐓: I’m sure. I love your mom already.

🐓: Almost as much as your sister 🥵🤤

Jake: 🖕🏻

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Jake brings you a beautiful bouquet of flowers on Wednesday, the day before you leave when he comes for his last appointment to be cleared with Dr. Hayes.

“Oh they’re beautiful, thank you,” you say, kissing him on the cheek, smiling at the blush that spreads over his face.

“Beautiful flowers for my beautiful girl,” he replies. You roll your eyes but smile.

“I think Hayes is ready for you,” you say, leading Jake to his office.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

“Everything looks great, Jake. You’re cleared to get back to it,” Hayes tells him as he signs the forms. “Char told me you’re moving back though?”

“Yeah, after I get everything taken care of in San Diego. I took a position as an instructor in Kingsville, so I should be home most nights, other than short trips for training. The accident not only scared me but made me realize what’s really important,” Jake answers as he puts his shoe back on.

“I’ve never seen her happier. She hasn’t been herself since her mom got sick and then passed away. It’s so good to see her smile again.”

“Yeah, I agree. Can you keep a secret?” Jake asks as he gets off the exam table to sit in the chair by the desk.

“Yes, unless it’s something bad. My loyalty lies with Charlie,” Hayes says seriously as he continues working on the endless forms, but his lip quirks.

“It’s not. I’m gonna ask her to marry me when we’re in California,” Jake smiles.

Hayes drops his pen. “Oh man, that’s great! Congratulations!” He grins, clapping Jake on the back.

“She hasn’t said yes yet, but thanks,” Jake laughs.

“She will.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

The flight to San Diego is uneventful and the first thing you see by the baggage is the uniformed man with a mustache that you’ve heard so much about holding a bright pink sign that reads, ‘Welcome Home from Rehab Jake! Your Sex Addiction Doesn’t Define You!’

“For fucks sake, Bradshaw,” Jake mutters when he’s close enough to read it.

You laugh and meet Bradley in a hug. “I’m Bradley or Rooster. Nice to finally meet you, Charlie.”

“Nice to meet you too, thanks for helping him get to me,” you reply. “I love the sign.”

“Yeah. Real funny. Did you manage to think of that one yourself?” Jake says, cracking into a smile before he hugs him too.

“Nah, good ol’ Google helped me with it,” he grins.

Bradley drives the two of you to Jake’s apartment, helps get your bags inside, and opens the windows to air out the stale space while Jake changes.

“He looks so much better than when I dropped him off at the airport. Not just the injuries, he looked haunted almost. I would’ve flown with him had I known the idiot was going to take an Uber to your house,” Bradley says with a sigh.

“He sure does, I’ve never seen him look the way he did when he showed up on my doorstep. It’s not your fault, thanks for getting him as far as you did,” you smile.

“So tell me about Emma. Jake won’t give me anything, I think he’s just trying to be a protective big brother, but-“

“He’s not. He’s protecting you,” you laugh. “Emma is an amazing woman, but she’ll eat you alive. She’s a large animal vet. She’s wild, fun, incredibly smart, and a fiercely loyal friend but has no interest in relationships,” you smile sadly, remembering how gutted Emma was after her breakup with her high-school sweetheart. Something more had happened but she never would talk about it.

“Hmmm,” Bradley hums as if he’s undeterred.

“I’m good to go, you’ll be okay here for a bit? I’ll ride with Bradshaw but my truck’s in the garage if you want to go anywhere,” Jake says entering the living room.

“No problem, I can start packing for you…” you trail off as your mouth goes dry when you see him in his service khakis.

He smirks when he watches you look him over, eyes lingering where his biceps strain against his sleeves.

“I’ll uh, meet you outside. Not to be a cockblock but Cyclone’s expecting us in 20 minutes. See ya later, Charlie!” Bradley says as he shuts the door, noticing the heat in your gazes.

Jake grips the back of your neck and drags you to him in a rough kiss. “You looking at me like that does things to me, Charlie,” he murmurs against your lips.

“Like what?” You smile at his growl.

“This,” he groans as he brings your hand to palm his erection.

“Mmmm, I’ll take care of this later, I promise. You better go though, don’t want to leave on a bad note,” you say, pulling back from his lips and giving him a final stroke of your palm.

“Yeah, you’re right. Fuck,” he sighs, combing a hand through his hair before adjusting himself and heading to the door. “Love you.”

“Love you too!”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

It doesn’t take you long to get his belongings into boxes before you move to the bedroom to pack his clothes. You smile, even though he’s been gone for several weeks, it still smells of his cologne and a hint of leather.

After you have his clothes put away, you check the drawer of his nightstand. You laugh (and blush) at what you find; a half-empty bottle of lube, tissues, expired condoms, a stroker toy, and a picture of you. It’s from a few summers ago when you went with your mom and his family up north fishing. You’re standing with your back to him at the edge of the dock, in a cheeky bikini, laughing at something he said.

It’s a cute picture, but the crinkled corner and the fact that it was hidden with those other items tell you exactly what he was doing while looking at it.

You take a picture of it, along with the other things you found, and send him a text.

Charlie: Found this picture of me hidden in your nightstand with some other interesting items. Did you use a PG-13 picture of me to jerk off? You do know PornHub is free, right? 😂

Jake: …no comment.

Charlie: I want to watch you use the toy. Like right when you get home.

Jake: Jesus. Okay. How do you even know what that is? From your sex books?

Charlie: You do know PornHub is free, right? 😏

Jake: Thanks for that visual. I’m hard now.

Charlie: 😘

Jake: We should be wrapping up here shortly, see you soon.

Charlie: I’ll be here waiting on your bed, touching myself.

Jake: Fuck. Don’t you dare stop before I get there.

Charlie:🫡

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

Jake bursts through the front door exactly 23 minutes later, and you’re nearing your second orgasm as he enters his bedroom, nearly tripping when he tries to get out of his pants.

“Don’t break your other leg,” you smile, sighing when you circle your clit faster, bringing yourself to the edge again quickly as you feel his eyes on you.

“Fuck!” You cry, arching your back as he leans forward, pushing your hands out of the way to lick your arousal, flicking his tongue over your clit. That’s all it takes for you to come apart with a drawn-out moan.

You have to stop him from going back for more. “I want to watch you now.”

His eyes close with a shudder. “Okay.”

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

“You are so fucking hot, Jake,” you breathe as you watch.

His eyes fall shut with a grunt at your words. His back is against the headboard, his hand fisting his cock. You’re kneeling between his legs, running your fingers over his thick, muscular thighs.

You lean forward like you’re going to kiss him but duck your head right before his lips touch yours to flick your tongue over his nipple. You smile at his frustrated sigh.

You tease his nipples, alternating between them with your fingers and mouth; pinching, biting, twisting, sucking. You commit to memory what elicits the best sounds before pulling back to hand him the lube and the toy.

“Do you want to see my collection when we get back? I haven’t needed any of my toys since we’ve gotten together but I think it’s only fair since I get to watch you.”

“Hell yeah I do,” he pants before he pushes into the lube-slicked toy with a groan

“Feel good?” You ask, biting your lip.

“Not even close as good as you, but yeah.”

Excess lube slides down his shaft, giving you an idea as you collect some on your finger.

“Can I try something?”

“Anything your kinky heart desires, sweetheart,” he replies.

You encourage him to scoot down further and bend his knees. Your left hand cups his sack as your right brushes the sensitive skin below and he jolts when your lubed finger finds his hole.

“This okay?” You ask when you lightly circle the tight ring of muscle.

“Mhmm, just surprised me,” he chuckles, but it turns into a moan when you lightly press.

You continue for a few minutes, circling and pressing, circling and pressing. “Still okay?” You ask as you push your finger in, letting him get used to the feeling.

“Yeah, still-holy shit!” He gasps, gripping the base of his cock to stave off his orgasm. “Wait-just…give me a second and do it again.”

“Found your prostate,” you smile, kissing his knee and rolling his balls in your left hand again until he relaxes.

His back arches when you press brush over it a second time, “Fuck! Please, again?” He rasps, tears are beginning to leak from his eyes.

His head drops back against the headboard as he jerks himself faster, the toy making lewd squelching sounds when you press gently once more. You whimper as you watch him cum with a broken sob.

•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•

A/N: no comment 🥴

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

Tagging:

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@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

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@mrsevans90

[topguncortez]

Hii👋

Maybe some ❛ here we are, home sweet home. ❜ with Jake Seresin for 3 k

Thank u

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Shy!Reader (not wifey yet) warnings: it's so damn fluffy you might shed a tear. Opposites Attract Masterlist | Hangman Masterlist Main Masterlist | 3 fucking K celebration

Jake was ready to take the next step. It might've been a bit too soon- hell, it was a bit too soon. But four months was long enough to know when you met the right person, right? Jake knew it was absolutely insane that he was planning out how he was going to propose to Y/N in his head, but he didn't want to send another second apart from her.

The two of them had been spending almost every night at each others houses. The first time Y/N had stayed over at Jake's was completely by accident. They went out mini-golfing and ended the night at his place watching the Legally Blonde movies (which Y/N pointed out that Jake and Elle Woods were the same person). Sometime during the movie, Y/N fell asleep on Jake's chest and he didn't have the heart to wake her up and let her drive home. So instead, Jake asked Y/N if she wanted to stay, and he even offered up his room and he'd sleep on the couch. It took both of them by surprise when Y/N said that they can share the bed.

The night was a little over three months ago, and in that time each others belongings had been scattered among the two homes. Early mornings were spent driving home after spending the night wrapped in the warmth of each other. Jake didn't like watching you leave, knowing you were going home to your house alone. It wasn't that you couldn't handle your own, it was that Jake worried about you going home late or arriving home by yourself. There were too many weirdos in the world for Jake to sleep comfortably about.

"What has you all wired up, Bagman?" Javy asked, leaning on Jake's desk, "This about the girl?"

"Yeah," Jake sighed, running a hand down his face, "Do you think I'm moving too fast?"

"You wanted to tell her that you loved her on the third date. . ."

Jake rolled his eyes, "That's true," He sighed, "I'm thinking about asking her to move in."

"Shit, already?" Javy said, straightening up a bit, "You really care about her?"

"I would propose her tomorrow if I could," Jake said, "I've been looking at rings and everything."

"I don't think I have ever seen you this crazy about a girl, Seresin."

"She's the one for me. I see her and I see my whole future. I see a house in San Diego, near her parents, maybe get to be an instructor or some hotshot pilot, I see us having like four or five little ones. I can't see my life without her and I don't want to live one either."

Javy smiled, knowing that it was the exact way that he felt about his girlfriend Valerie. He clapped his friend on the back, "Ask her. And do it soon, before she figures out that you snore and talk in your sleep."

"I do not snore."

"Keep telling yourself that buddy," Javy patted his shoulder before walking back to his desk.

--- --- ---

Y/N looked through the curtains of the big bay window, waiting for Jake to arrive. She had been at work when Jake texted and asked if she was down for dinner, and she agreed. She had a mountain of second grade math homework to look through, but she wasn't going to miss a chance to get dinner with her favorite guy.

A smile rose to her face as Jake's familiar ford f-150 pulled up into the driveway. On the very first date, Y/N made a joke about how you can take the man out of Texas but not Texas out of the man. Y/N met Jake out on the front porch, giving her that megawatt smile and pink carnations in his hand.

"For you," He said, and kissed her hand, "I missed you."

"I missed you too," Y/N blushed furiously.

Jake knew that she wasn't about to lean in and kiss him, not when Mrs. Lockheart next door was as nosy as she was. The small cottage house that Y/N rented was right next to a retirement community, and she had made friends with a lot of them. It made Jake smile seeing her spend so much time caring and talking to her elderly neighbors. He made mental note to take Y/N home to Texas to meet his nana someday.

"I'll go put these inside," Y/N said and Jake nodded. Quickly, Y/N put the carnations in the same vase as the other ones from the week before were. Anytime Jake took her on a date, he always showed up with pink carnations. Partly a nod to the first song that they had listened to on their first date.

"Ready?" Jake asked and Y/N nodded. He grabbed her hand and led her to the truck. He helped her in his lifted pick-up and made sure she was all buckled before shutting the door and jogging to the drivers side.

Jake made a reservation at their favorite seafood restaurant down by the pier. Y/N loved their fish and chips, and Jake always got some sushi that made Y/N crinkle her nose. They talked about each other’s days and how work went. Y/N hardly understood a word of what Jake was talking about but she was always so intrigued. It’s what made Jake love her so much, that she was actually interested in what he did and asked questions about it. They once again argued about who was going to pay for the meal (Jake had already slipped the waiter his card when Y/N was in the bathroom). After they ate, they decided to get ice cream from their favorite place and walk down the pier. 

That’s when Jake’s nerves really started setting in. 

He had a spare key made after his conversation with Javy, and it was currently burning a hole into his jeans. He was terrified of what she was going to say. Of course the worst she could say was “no” but Jake wasn’t sure how he was going to be able to handle that. Everything had been so perfect between the two of them so far and Jake was starting to think maybe he was reading this all wrong. Y/N had noticed him become distant, his hand not gripping hers as tightly anymore. 

“Are you okay?” Y/N asked, looking up at him. Jake snapped out of his thoughts and looked down at her. 

‘Now or Never, Bagman’ 

Jake didn’t say anything as he set his ice cream dish on a nearby bench, and got down on one knee. Y/N sucked in a breath, her eyes going wide. 

‘Is he proposing? Oh my god! I didn’t even wear my good white shoes!’ 

“I’m not proposing,” Jake said. 

“Oh thank god,” Y/N sighed in relief, “I mean, not like that.” 

Jake chuckled, “I will one day. Just not today, but I want to ask you to move in.” He held up the brass key that was in his pocket, “I don’t like going to bed without you. And it doesn’t have to be everything. It can be like a drawer, or a toothbrush. But . . I can’t sleep another night without you in my house.” 

Y/N bit her lip, as a blush came across her cheeks. She set her own ice cream dish down, and reached into her purse, retrieving a very similar brass key out. 

“I had one made for you,” Y/N whispered, “I was going to ask you, but I was too scared.” 

Jake shook his head and stood up from his kneeling position, “Only us would do this.” Y/N giggled, and Jake pulled her in for a hug, “So you’ll move in? Like to my house?” 

“Unless you want to be woken up by Mrs. Stone’s bingo parties. They can get pretty rowdy.” 

“Damn, I’m not sure if I can move away knowing I’ll miss Thursday night bingo,” Jake frowned and Y/N giggled, burying her head into his chest. 

“But yes, I will move into your house with you, Jake.” 

Jake wrapped his arms tightly around her as he spun her in a circle. A shriek came from her lips followed by continuous laughter. Jake set her down, and kissed her quickly, knowing that she probably felt the eyes of onlookers on her. 

“Well, we better get going. I got packing to do!” 

— — — 

Three days later, Y/N was carrying a box in her hands up the sidewalk to her new home with Jake. He had a cute little two story house that was right between the base and the school. He walked a bit ahead of her, also carrying a box of her things. He set the box down, and reached into his pocket grabbing his keys to unlock the door. Y/N went to open the door but Jake stopped her. 

“Wait!” Jake said, and then covered her eyes with his hands, “Close your eyes.” 

“Jake, I have seen your house before.” 

“Yes, but it is no longer just my house, it's your house. . . Our house,” Jake said and Y/N broke out into a large smile, “So close your eyes for me.” 

“Only for you,” Y/N said and closed her eyes. Jake removed one hand to open the door, and then carefully guided her through the front door of his house. 

Her nose was filled with the familiar scent of his house; sage and the hint of jet fuel. She could feel the warmth of the home, and it felt so inviting. She never felt like a stranger in Jake’s house, and she felt even more at home than ever before. Jake kicked the door closed with his foot, and continued to guide her into the living room. 

“Alright, Here we are,” Jake said and took his hands off her eyes. Y/N opened her eyes slowly and looked around at the living room that was now partially her’s. Not a single thing physically had changed since the last time she was here two days ago, but everything had changed emotionally, “Home sweet home.” Jake kissed her cheek and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on top of her head. 

There was a moment of silence as the two of them just soaked up being in each others embrace in their home.

"What do you think, sweets?" Jake asked.

Y/N sucked in a breath before answering, "I think we need throw pillows." She looked up at Jake, who had a bright smile on his face.

"You're lucky I love you."

[goldenseresinretriever]

False Confidence: Chapter 1

Pairing: Javy “Coyote” Machado x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: The Athletic named Javy Machado the fifth sluttiest player in the NHL last year. He’s a known playboy who leaves every game with a different girl. As far as he’s concerned he’s living the dream, playing his dream job with the dream lifestyle. Unfortunately his friends and bosses don’t agree. At 33, they think it’s time for him to settle down. You’re a kindergarten teacher at an esteemed private school. You don't expect much when you finally accept your colleague’s invitation to attend her husband’s hockey game but when you accidentally get separated in the post-game rush, you find yourself in a compromising situation with the last person you’d ever expected to meet. When his PR rep suggests a mutually beneficial agreement, your hands are tied. How long will you have to keep up the act? And how long will you be able to?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, angst, fluff, fake relationship, suggestive language, mentions of sexual harassment, anxiety, school system inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 4k

A/N: This is a repost from my series, False Confidence. It was originally posted in March 2023, and was lost when my blog was deleted.

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

Your brain short circuits. He’s kissing you. This complete stranger is kissing you. It’s been years since someone kissed you. You let out a squeak of surprise and he takes advantage of your open mouth to slide his tongue in. You’re dumbfounded now. You’ve definitely never been kissed like this. You’ve seen it before, of course, in movies, and on TV. You even walked in on Jeremy and one of the first-grade teachers in the copy room by accident once. But you never imagined that you’d ever get kissed like this. It’s all hunger and you feel like you’re being devoured, every rational thought fleeing your head as you’re overwhelmed by the new sensations. You’re not kissing him back, but frankly, that’s because you have no idea how. You barely know how to kiss normally but this? This is completely new territory. You’re stiff as a board as his hands go to your waist, squeezing and kneading the flesh there. You’re dizzy from all the new sensations and you think you might combust.

“JAVY MACHADO, GET AWAY FROM HER!” Josie’s voice breaks through the haze and the man pulls away. You watch a string of saliva connect your mouths before snapping like the tension between you. Your senses flood back and you stumble away from the man, Javy, shoving at his shoulders in the process, a mortified squeak escaping your lips. He doesn’t move an inch and you’re acutely aware of how much pure muscle he’s made of.

You hear the crack before you register that Josie’s crossed the short distance between you and slapped Javy across the face. Your eyes widen in horror at the brazen act of violence as you take in the fierce protectiveness in Josie’s eyes. To his credit, Javy looks surprised too, raising a hand to touch the warming skin of his cheek.

“Jo, what’s going on!” Reuben is jogging down the hallway behind her, shock on his face as he takes in the scene unfolding before him.

“This pig just assaulted Roadie!” She exclaims and you’re still frozen where you stand but you can feel the strange feeling of your kiss-swollen lips. Reuben turns to you and takes in your mortified expression before rounding on Javy.

“Javy, what the fuck man? What’s going on?” You’ve never seen Reuben genuinely angry. Usually, he’s pretty easygoing and you’re surprised by the thunderous expression on his face. Javy looks equally surprised as the older man glares down at him.

“I didn’t know who she was!” Javy protests, but Josie just levels a glare at him as she moves to place a protective arm around your trembling shoulders.

“What’s going on?” A hard voice interrupts Javy’s pleas and you all turn to see a blonde man striding down the hall. He’s classically handsome but right now his eyebrows are pinched together as he surveys the scene in front of him. He crosses his muscular arms across his chest as he levels a hard stare at Javy who meets it with one of his own. The two are locked in a silent battle until the click of high heels on the concrete floor sounds and a woman dressed in a suit rounds the corner, her lips pinched in a thin line. She walks up to the blonde and regards the two men locked in silent conversation before turning to Reuben, Josie, and you.

“Alright, someone needs to tell me what’s going on right now.”

Javy takes a deep breath but doesn’t break eye contact with the blonde as he answers, “I kissed her.” The woman’s eyebrows furrow as she scans the crowd and lights on you at last. You see her eyes widen slightly with surprise, moving to Josie’s arm around your shoulder before tearing her gaze back to Javy.

“You kissed her?”

“Kissed her, my ass. Your tongue was halfway down her throat when I found you.” Josie scoffs from beside you and you flinch instinctively in embarrassment as you’re reminded of the way Javy kissed you. The woman’s eyes snap to you at the movement and you watch her eyebrows furrow in concern.

“Consensually?” She asks, directed at you but you can’t find your voice. There are too many people here. You know Josie and Reuben but there are three complete strangers all fixing their attention on you and you feel your throat dry out. Swallowing doesn’t help and your heartbeat quickens at the realization that they're waiting for you. Your whole body is still in fight-or-flight and your brain is screaming at you to just answer while the rest of you refuses to comply. Josie catches onto the change in your breathing as you start to hyperventilate shallowly. The hand on your shoulder squeezes gently, trying to ground you but you’re losing control quickly. You faintly hear Reuben call your name but the sound is far away as you retreat into yourself. You’re shutting down even as you’re trying to fight it, to keep yourself together until you have some privacy. There are voices speaking but you’re not paying attention, trying your best to focus on the sound of your breathing as you struggle to get it under control. You’re losing the battle with your mind when there’s a comforting hand on your arm, gently leading you away and while you don’t catch the accompanying words, you follow willingly, happy to escape the nightmare.

***

The next morning you’re feeling better. You’ve pushed the memory of last night into a dark corner of your mind, eager to get back to your regular life. You never have to see him again. You have an out from future hockey games and events involving the players. For now, you’re just trying to move forward, putting last night’s events in your past, out of sight and out of mind. You’re only thinking of the future when you arrive at work this morning. You decide to duck into the teacher’s lounge in search of coffee before your students start arriving and while you had planned for your detour to be quick and unnoticeable like they usually are, your entrance is heralded by a wolf whistle from Jeremy who’s leaning against the counter by the coffee maker. You freeze on the spot, just barely through the doorway, pinned by a pair of hazel eyes that dance with dangerous amusement.

“Damn, Roadie, I honestly didn’t think you had it in you.” His thin lips curl into a smirk that sends shivers running down your spine as confusion clouds your face. “After Dan’s little announcement yesterday, I’ll admit, I was worried about you, but you managed to surprise even me.” Your brow furrows in confusion and he examines your expression, cocking his head to the side. H you’re not sure what he finds in your expression but his smirk widens and then he turns to his phone, swiping at the screen a few times before he spins it around so you can see its contents and your stomach drops to the floor.

You can’t breathe. You’re pretty sure your heart has stopped breathing as you take in the image on his screen. You’re looking at yourself and dread fills your veins like ice as you take in the image of you and Javy from last night. In your panic, you hadn’t realized the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the San Diego night and you’d definitely not spotted the sneaky photographer that had managed to capture the intimate moment between you and Javy. His hands are squeezing your hips in the photo and you feel the ghost of their pressure on them now as the memory you’d struggled to bury in the back of your mind shoots back to the front. From the angle, it’s not possible to tell that you’re ramrod straight and not kissing him back. It’s the perfect picture of a clandestine tryst and you feel your stomach lurch, threatening to empty its meager contents onto the floor of the teacher’s lounge.

Jeremy’s smirk widens at the blatant look of horror on your face. You’re speechless but saved from responding when a firm hand snatches up Jeremy’s phone. “Where’d you get this, Jeremy?” Josie’s voice is surprisingly calm as she examines the trans wreck on his screen while you struggle to find a way to make the world stop crumbling around you. Josie’s voice sounds like it’s underwater as she tears into Jeremy, demanding the details but you’re drowning in the loudness of your mind. It’s all white noise that’s getting louder and louder.

You don’t register when Josie grabs your arm, steering you out of the teacher’s lounge, only coming back to the present when her hands are on your cheeks. You blink as her brown eyes bore into yours. “I said, are you okay, Roadie?” You start to nod until she gives you a disbelieving look and then switch to shaking your head. She nods, keeping her hands on your face, grounding you. “Can you teach? Because you’re going to have twenty-four kids that need you to be present in about fifteen minutes.” You swallow, then. The reminder of your kids grounding you better than anything else.

“Yes.” You say firmly and she nods, releasing your face. Determination fills your body and chases away the blind panic and anxiety. No matter what’s going on in your personal life, for the next seven hours your kids need you so you’ll be there. It’s one thing you refuse to give ground on. As a teacher, you’re responsible for your twenty-four students and you’re fiercely protective of them. School is a place that should be safe and nurturing for them, and they deserve to have as much stability as possible here. That means that you bring the best version of yourself every day, rain or shine. You glance back at the teacher’s lounge mournfully. “So much for grabbing coffee,” you mutter and Josie squeezes your shoulder gently.

“You go get set up, I’ll get you the coffee.” You give her a tired smile as she shoos you back towards your classroom.

“Thank you, Josie.” You call back to her as she heads back towards the lion’s den that is the teachers’ lounge. No doubt, Jeremy’s not the only one to have seen the photo and even if he was, he’s definitely busy showing it to anyone with eyes.

“That’s what friends are for, Roadie.” She reminds you with a kind smile.

***

“What the FUCK did you think you were doing?” Javy winces at the harsh tone of Zam, his PR rep who looks ready to dive over the desk separating them to strangle him. It’s been a long morning. Ever since the paparazzi photos from last night came out, Zam has been doing everything within her power to play damage control. Of course, he feels guilty. She’s one of his best friends. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t think she’s overreacting. It’s not the first time a photo of him and a woman has gotten out. They're a dime a dozen at this point. If it’s not the paparazzi leaking them, it’s the girls themselves, proud of their one-night-stand with an NHL player. It’s not like he tries to hide from the cameras, he doesn’t really mind them. Why else would his meet-up spot with puck bunnies be a hallway with floor-to-ceiling windows?

“I told you already, I didn’t know who she was! I thought she was a puck bunny! Look, I said I was sorry, why are you making such a big deal about this?!” Zam lets out an astounded laugh at that and he gets an unexpected smack to the back of the head. Yelping in surprise, he turns to glare at his best friend, and captain of the Dogfighters, Jake Seresin where he’s leaning against the wall behind Javy. Jake’s face is stormy as he glares at Javy. “What the fuck, man!” Javy snaps and Jake’s hands clench into fists.

“What the fuck? What the fuck is that you’re not taking this even remotely seriously.” He snaps, anger lacing his words.

“Why should I! It’s just some pictures! That happens almost every night, why is it suddenly intervention-worthy? I didn’t even sleep with her, it’s just a kiss.” Zam scoffs behind him and he turns to face her again and her face is a mask of quiet rage.

“I’d love to see how that holds up in court if she sues for sexual assault.” Javy’s blood runs cold.

“What? She wouldn’t.” Suddenly not even he believes the shaky words.

“You kissed her, initiated physical contact, and groped her non-consensually. Not to mention there’s photographic evidence.” Zam’s voice is cold and bitter as she glares at him. “And if you say ‘it’s just a kiss’ one more fucking time I’m going to bring Bugs in here so you can say it to her face.”

Javy feels like he’s had a bucket of ice water dumped on him as shame spreads through his body. He looks down at his hands, unable to meet Zam’s eyes. Bugs, the team physician and Jake’s girlfriend, had been forcibly kissed by one of her superiors at her previous job and the ramifications of that assault had almost ruined her career. He loves Bugs, she’s his friend, his best friend’s girl, and one hell of a doctor. The reminder of the pain she’s been through is like a knife to his heart and the fact that he’d just hurt another girl the way she’d been hurt is a harsh wake-up call.

“I-I didn’t mean to hurt her.” He murmurs, knowing the words don’t even begin to right the wrong he’s caused but he can’t stay silent.

“Well, you can explain that to her when she gets here,” Zam says and he can hear the exhaustion in her voice as his head shoots back up. You’re coming here? Zam must see the question in his eyes since she offers up the answer without him having to ask. “I asked her to come here so we can try to settle this without getting lawyers involved and blowing this up any bigger than it already is. She pauses before adding, “Josie called this morning and said she’s not doing great.” Zam grimaces in solidarity with the girl that Javy realizes he doesn’t even know the name of. Guilt twists the knife even tighter in his chest.

“They’re just in here,” a familiar voice says on the other side of the door to Zam’s office, and after knocking, Nat walks in followed by you and Josie Fitch. Natasha is one of the equipment managers for the Dogfighters and she and Javy have been friends since high school. They played for the boys and girls hockey teams respectively but became close when they took junior English together. She’s one of his oldest friends and the tired look she gives him makes him want to sink through his chair and the floor. Josie directs you to sit in the chair next to Javy and he shifts to give you space, wanting you to feel comfortable. One glance at your posture, however, tells him that’s not happening anytime soon. Your shoulders are tense and your hands are trembling as you clasp them in your lap. In that moment, staring at you as just a girl, not a puck bunny, he sees how terrified you are, and protectiveness battles with guilt in his heart. He’s sickly reminded of his youngest sister as he watches you pick at the bright blue fabric of your dress where it falls over your knees.

***

You’re nervous. It’s to be expected. You didn’t expect to come back to Hard Deck arena ever again, and definitely not so soon. Even then, you never expected to see Javy Machado again, at least not without glass separating you from the hockey rink. He’s dressed in simple athletic wear and doesn’t seem so scary without all the extra hockey padding. He has his hands casually resting on the desk of the woman you recognize from last night. She has a worried look on her face as she offers you a gentle smile.

“Hi there,” she addresses you by your name, introducing herself as Zam, the Dogfighters’s PR rep, before clasping her hands on the table and you catch sight of her perfectly manicured nails. “I want to apologize profusely for last night and all the ensuing chaos. I called you here today so that we can make sure we’re on the same page. I also wanted to see if we could settle any potential legal concerns amidst ourselves before getting any lawyers involved.” Your eyes widen in surprise.

“Legal concerns?” Your stomach is a mess of nerves at the idea of getting sued.

“You’re well within your rights to sue for sexual assault, Roadie,” Josie speaks up and you turn to look at her, surprise on your face. Her expression is hard and you look back to Zam. She looks tired but you see the understanding and solidarity in her eyes even as she tries to do her job, even if it goes against her personal feelings onthe matter.

“What? No, I wouldn’t even consider that!” You burst out, still taken by surprise at the mere suggestion. Zam’s eyes widen in surprise as she takes in your words.

“Why not?” Josie pipes up and you shake your head.

“Plenty of reasons, starting with the fact that I can’t afford a lawyer.” You wince at the idea of how much legal representation would begin to cost compared to your meager teaching salary.

“Bullshit, we’ll pay for the lawyer if that’s what you want,” Josie says, protectiveness flaring up in her eyes.

“It’s not.” You say, voice still trembling slightly even as you force the hard edge into it. You turn back to face Zam. “I’m not suing, so you don’t have to worry about that.” You feel eyes burning into the side of your head and you turn to see Javy watching you with equal parts curiosity and apprehension.

“Hi,” he offers when he realizes he has your attention. “I’m Javy,” he extends a hand for you to shake before thinking twice about it and pulls it back. “I just wanted to say how sorry I am about what happened last night.” You think you see actual guilt flit through his eyes and you can tell he’s having trouble not averting his gaze. “I thought you were someone else and while that doesn’t make up for it, I really am sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” the brunette woman who led you to Zam’s office, Nat you think her name was, speaks up from where she’s leaning against the wall next to the blonde man. She glares at Javy and you almost feel bad for him as he grimaces.

“So, Roadie?” The blonde man from last night leaving against the wall says, eyebrow quirking curiously. You turn to him, surprised that he’s addressing you. “What’s that about?” Your face heats at the change in topic but you clear your throat to answer him.

“It’s a nickname from work,” you explain. “It’s short for Roadrunner like the Looney Tunes character because apparently I dash around a lot.”

“You do,” Josie says and you suppress the urge to roll your eyes.

“Well Roadie, I wish we’d met under better circumstances and I’m sorry about all this but it’s good to meet you, I’m Jake, Captain of the Dogfighters.” He holds out a hand that you take and shake, tentatively. His genial smile puts you at ease and you relax a little in your chair.

“Well, with that out of the way, let’s talk about how we’re going to move forward,” Zam says, taking back command of the room. “I’ve taken steps to protect your identity as much as possible, Roadie. If you still feel unsafe we can talk about a security detail or something more casual like having someone watch you from afar. I’ve also spoken to the principal of Acacia Academy about keeping things under wraps in case the press do find out where you work.” You nod cautiously, trying to process the influx of information. “Unfortunately I can’t make the photos go away but the paparazzi are fickle, they’ll move onto the next story as soon as they realize we’re not giving them anything.”

“But what if we did?” Josie speaks up then and all the attention turns to her. She’s got her thinking face on and you feel premature dread in your stomach as a thoughtful smile crosses her face.

“What do you mean?” Zam looks confused and it’s clear she’s as in the dark as everyone else.

“Well, you said it yourself, they’ll lose interest if we don’t give them anything. So why don’t we give them something? We have a golden opportunity that could be mutually beneficial.” Josie says, tilting her head in Javy’s direction. “Reuben tells me you’ve been trying to get this guy to settle down for months now. And Roadie,” she turns to you and you give her a confused look. “You need a solution to Dan’s new rule.” Your eyes widen in shock and horror as it dawns on you exactly what Josie’s suggesting.

“Wait, what rule?” Zam speaks up, her brow furrowed in confusion even as you can see the gears in her brain turning. “Who’s Dan?”

“Dan Jackson, the principal of Acacia. He’s trying to crack down on inter-departmental hookups so he said he’ll be looking at relationship status as one of the criteria for contract renewals for next year.”

“He can’t do that, that’s illegal,” Javy speaks up and you turn to him even as you grimace.

“It’s a private school and it’s not an official rule, just a ‘friendly suggestion,’” you sigh, defeatedly.

“You said you’re worried about the rule, Roadie? Now you have a golden opportunity to circumvent it.”

“What exactly are you suggesting?” Zam asks but even you can tell she understands exactly what Josie’s leading to.

“Break the story that Roadie and Javy are dating,” Josie says with a shrug like she’s just talking about the weather. “The playboy of the Dogfighters gets to settle down. The hermit crab gets a boyfriend.” You glare at her even as she winks at you. “Both parties benefit and it’s easier than the alternative.”

“This is ridiculous,” Javy scoffs with a laugh of incredulity. “Right, Zam?” He turns to her but she’s lost in thought.

“It could work.” She says finally and his jaw drops.

“You’re not serious.” He demands, eyes widening. She glares at him before turning to look at you, tentatively.

“Roadie is that something you would want?” You’re still in shock that this is up for debate at all.

“What about Javy? Doesn’t he get a say?” You stammer, trying to buy yourself some time. Zam rolls her eyes before giving Javy a firm look.

“He’s lucky he’s not getting sued right now, I think that’s enough of a say, don’t you?” You swallow, hard, looking to Javy who looks gobsmacked.

“Zam you can’t be serious,” he says, finally finding his voice again. He turns to Jake. “Tell her she’s crazy.”

Jake shrugs. “I think as long as Roadie is comfortable with it and it’s something she wants, it’s a pretty good plan. Zam’s been hounding you to clean up your act for months and you keep ignoring her. And I think you’ll keep ignoring her unless we do something and this is as good a something as anything. Plus,” he adds with a playful smirk, “waiting for a girl to fall out of the sky who’d actually be willing to date you could take years.” Josie and Nat both snort at that. You swallow hard at that. “Who knows, maybe a fake girlfriend will teach you how to have a real one.” A fake girlfriend. You feel your chest squeeze at that. A bitter voice in the back of your mind wonders how you’ve managed to find yourself in this situation yet again. At least this time you’re in on the joke. You shake off the pain that squeezes your heart and realize all eyes are on you.

“What? Sorry,” you stammer as you look from expectant face to expectant face.

Zam grins at you conspiratorially, you can see the curious excitement in her eyes. “What do you think, Roadie? Are you in?”

[roosterforme]

A Love You Don't Find Everyday Part 24 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: With just a few short days left in Hawaii, you and Bradley talk about a lot of important things and make some important plans. And when Bradley asks you what else you have in your special suitcase, you both end up getting more than you bargained for. 

Warnings: Fluff, smut, and swearing

Length: 5000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

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Bradley woke up with you straddling his face. 

"Roo, please," you whined, pulling at his hair as your pussy skimmed along his rough chin. As soon as his lips parted and you felt the swipe of his tongue, you moaned in delight. 

Without a word, Bradley wrapped his hands around your hips and stroked your tattoo while you rode his face. His dick got harder as he looked up at you, brow scrunched up in determination as you bumped against his nose. He alternated between sucking on your clit and letting you grind against him as you got nice and loud.

"Are you gonna fuck me, Roo?" you asked, and even if you didn't mean it to sound dirty, it did. It really did. Your grunts paired with that filthy sentence had him determined to get you off like this. So instead of answering you immediately, he made you cum, and you gently squeezed around his tongue as your fingers relaxed in his hair.

"Yeah," he growled. "I'm gonna fuck you." He rolled you onto your belly and watched as the early dawn sunlight illuminated the villa. With your ass in the air and your cheek pinned to the bedding with his hand around the back of your neck, he filled you up.

You collapsed into a boneless heap as if you were ready to go back to sleep. "No, Baby Girl. It's time to get dressed. We have our boat outing this morning."

You whined and complained and didn't move from the bed while Bradley got dressed. "I changed my mind about riding the boat. I just want to ride your cock."

Bradley snorted as he scooped you out of bed and helped you get cleaned up. "Well, I need a little break."

Your eyes went wide with mischief. "You're such an old man."

"Listen," he growled as you got ready to go. "I can keep up just fine." But Bradley was honestly feeling all thirty six years old at the moment. You wanted him at least three times a day. He was currently living for those afternoon naps on the deck where you just wanted to snuggle up on his chest and relax. 

"Okay, old man Roo," you whispered, taking his hand and leading him outside. "I'll spend the afternoon feeding you fruit next to our pool and giving you a back rub. How does that sound?"

He laughed and helped you into the golf cart. "Sounds ideal."

After the two hour long boat tour, during which you snuggled up on Bradley's lap and played with his hair, you picked a restaurant for a late breakfast. Bradley ate with his arm around your shoulders as you told him in great detail how much you loved Hawaii and thought they should move here.

"The beaches, Bradley. So much better than San Diego. We could get stationed in Pearl Harbor. We could move into the villa."

He kissed your cheek. "If you thought the villa was expensive for ten days, let's stick with our craftsman."

"You need to let me start helping you pay the mortgage and the rest of our bills," you said, and when he opened his mouth, you smashed your palm against it. "I don't even want to hear you argue with me about this."

"Fine," he murmured, kissing your palm when you removed it. He thought he could hear his credit cards sigh in relief. 

"I have so much money saved since I stopped paying rent," you told him. "Definitely enough to redo one of the bedrooms into a nursery when the time comes."

He perked right up. "Airplane themed," he whispered, kissing your nose. "That's all I ask."

You laughed but agreed with him. "Airplane themed."

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

Bradley laid out the lounge chair cushions right on the deck and dozed off and on while you swam for the afternoon. Any time he woke up, you swam over to the edge of the pool and fed him a bite of food, just like you had promised you would. And then after he thanked you, he dozed off again. 

After a few hours, you climbed out of the pool to join him, and he wordlessly welcomed you as you curled up all wet on his chest. This was perfect. Ten days of this was not going to be enough. You were surprised you weren't missing work. But with 24/7 access to your husband, everything else seemed to pale in comparison. 

"Baby Girl?" Bradley asked after you heard his stomach growling. "What else is in that suitcase of yours?" he asked groggily. 

"I thought you'd never ask!" you said, popping up from his chest and giving him a kiss. Then you proceeded to stand up and remove your bathing suit, draping both pieces over a chair so they could finish drying in the late afternoon sunlight. "Come look."

Bradley followed your every movement as you strolled completely nude into the villa, and then he was stripping out of his shorts and rushing inside after you. "Show me," he whispered, letting his hands settle on your hips as he rested his chin on your shoulder. 

You turned to kiss his mustache as you procured a purple silicone toy from inside your lingerie filled suitcase and held it up. "Should I add this to my outfit when I get dressed for dinner?"

Bradley groaned and started kissing along your neck. "A vibrator? You're going to wear a vibrator to dinner?" His voice was laced with need and disbelief, and you giggled in response. 

"Yes. And you can control it on your phone."

"Fuck," he grunted, and you could feel his hard cock at your lower back.

"Get your phone, so we can download the app."

Bradley had never released your body from his grasp so quickly before, nearly sprinting away to get it. Within minutes, he had set up the app and was testing out your toy in his hand. And with a look of delight as the "U" shaped vibrator danced in his hand, he mused out loud, "I wonder if I can control this thing from the wifi on an aircraft carrier."

Your jaw dropped as you looked at him. "I would be more than willing to help you find out," you told him. "But let's see how well it works with the resort wifi first."

Bradley groaned, and you ran your fingers along his hardening cock. When he reached for you again, you deftly slipped away from him and grabbed your clothes. "Come back, Baby Girl," he rasped.

"Save it for dinner," you replied, heading for the bathroom to shower and get dressed. Once you were all made up and ready to go, you collected Bradley from the deck. He must have used the shower outside, because his hair was still damp and he smelled like the delicious hibiscus soap. 

He ran his fingers along the hem of your dress before he stood. "You look pretty," he whispered, letting his hand trail underneath your dress and up along your thigh as he pressed his body to yours. "How's that sweet pussy that I love so much? All dressed up for dinner as well?"

You hummed next to his ear as his fingers met the toy that was tucked inside you and touching your clit as well. "I'm ready to be teased."

"Well that's good, because my phone is at one hundred percent battery, and I love teasing you," he replied, leading you out to the golf cart with a noticeable erection in his white pants. You didn't even fucking care, and clearly neither did he. 

The toy was actually providing you with pleasure as you walked. It seemed to be rubbing a sweet spot inside of you while simultaneously gliding across your clit as your hips moved. "Bradley?" Your voice was breathy and needy, and the look he gave you was sinful as he held your hand while you climbed into the cart.

"Yes, my love?"

You reached up and ran your fingers along his scars before you kissed him. "You're the best."

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

With a hard dick and a fully charged phone, Bradley walked with you positioned in front of him as you were led across the soft sand to a table on the beach for dinner. The table was small with a bench on one side, and Bradley slid in next to you. When the waiter handed you both menus and then turned away, you pressed your lips to Bradley's ears and whined. "It's not even on yet, and I'm already going to lose my mind."

Coming to dinner was probably a poor decision. Room service would have been the way to go. But the way you were rubbing yourself against Bradley was making him lose his mind a little bit too. And now he was opening the app and holding up his phone for you to see him select the lowest setting, tapping it one time with his thumb.

"Oh, fuck!" you said quickly, squirming around next to him while the waiter returned with a bottle of wine. Bradley listened to you order dinner, each syllable coming out in a shaky, needy voice while you uncrossed and recrossed your legs. The waiter eyed you a little cautiously when you bit down on the tip of your index finger, but he didn't say anything else. 

"Make it two," Bradley said, unsure about what you had actually ordered, but happy to eat anything while you were softly moaning next to him with a look of aroused panic on your face. 

"Roo," you gasped. "This feels so good."

He kissed you hard in the twilight darkness while soft music played nearby. You kept moaning the word good in between kisses, and Bradley wanted to take you back to the villa so badly. But he also wanted to edge the hell out of you until you were practically in tears for him. 

As soon as he released your lips, he could feel your hand on his cock underneath the tablecloth. "What are you doing, Sweetheart?" he grunted as you unzipped his pants. 

"Making you feel good, too."

Bradley glanced around and relaxed a little as the beach grew darker, and he let himself enjoy this completely depraved dinner. He buttered some bread and poured himself a little more wine while you stroked your hand languidly up and down his length. Then he hand fed you while you moaned, nibbling on the bread with wide eyes. 

When you reached down to cup his balls and squeeze him gently, he kissed you. "I think you're ready for the moderate setting."

Bradley had to cut up your food and feed it to you while you rocked your hips slowly forward and backward. He was working hard to deny his own orgasm as you made soft, pornographic noises. You made it halfway through your dinner, still teasing his cock with your hand, when you whispered, "I'm going to cum."

"No," Bradley replied, shutting the vibrator off as you keened in displeasure. "Not yet."

"Roo!" you gasped, and he had to kiss you to keep you quiet as the waiter strolled back over.

"Behave," Bradley warned you. Luckily the handjob he was getting was hidden by the tablecloth, but his overstimulated wife was right out in the open, moaning about which dessert she wanted. Bradley grinned, because really, in the grand scheme of things, he was living a very charmed life when it came to you.

So he ordered his dessert as well as yours and asked the waiter to pack them to go. Then he turned to you, set the vibrator back to low, and said, "We can eat dessert back at the villa."

"Okay, Daddy!" you moaned so loudly, your hips rocking gently again as your nipples strained against your dress. And without any warning, you started jerking him off harder. 

"Shit," he groaned, because now you had him too close. He had convinced himself he could hold off until returning to the villa. He had been wrong. As you whined his name, he knew it was over, so he pulled his pants up over himself the best he could. 

And then Bradley was cumming in his pants like a teenager with his first girlfriend. And it felt so fucking good, too. Your hand was cum soaked and gliding over his skin while you started to grind on his thigh. He needed to get you out of here before you both got kicked out of the resort. 

"Where are we going?" you asked, making it really difficult for him to zip his pants while you sat in his lap and licked cum off your hand. 

"God damn it," he growled, shoving his tongue between your lips to taste himself there, and then he hoisted you up in his arms and carried you to the golf cart. "I'm taking you back to the villa. We can order dessert later. After I'm done with your pussy."

You were grinding against his abs, that vibrator still doing god's work, prepping you so well for him. Once he got you out on the secluded trail, Bradley pushed you up against a palm tree and sucked on your tits through your dress until you were really loud. Your sticky hand was wrapped around his neck, and he thought he was going to have to fuck you on the seat of the golf cart. Because by some miracle he was already hard again, and he fucking needed you.

"I need you to fuck me," you said abruptly. 

"It's literally the only thing I can think about, let me assure you."

"God, Roo! This toy is evil!" you squealed as he got you situated in the golf cart, turned the headlights on and started to drive. Bradley watched you grip the dashboard with both hands as your head tipped back in pleasure.

"Do not cum yet!" he scolded as he drove a little faster. 

You turned and glared at him in the dim light. "You're as evil as the toy!"

He laughed at you. He couldn't help it. "I'm about to treat you real sweet if you can just hold off a little longer, Baby Girl."

"Fine!" you shouted, pouting at him while he jerked the steering wheel around the last turn before the villa, lit up but lanterns on the porch, came into view. And then Bradley carried you inside, vibrating pussy and all.

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

You were lost somewhere close to euphoria as Bradley laid you gently on the bed and pushed your dress up to your waist. He spread your legs wide as you tried desperately to keep them together. You were ready to cum. This obscene little toy would be your undoing. 

"It's so pretty," Bradley whispered, running his thumb along the vibrator as he held you open wide with his body between your legs. "What a gorgeous pussy, soaking wet and filled up."

You were about to beg him to remove the toy when he pulled his phone from his pocket and took some pictures of you. "Please?"

He smirked at you. "Only because you asked so nicely." And then he cranked the app up to the high setting, and your hips shot right off the bed. "Bradley! No!" It was too much. You had been on the edge for too long, receiving pleasure both inside and against your clit. 

You wanted the familiar, loving feel of Bradley in and on you. He must have read it on your face or in your voice as he gently removed the vibrator and buried his face in your pussy. The feeling of relief was almost instantaneous. Stubble rubbed your sensitive parts as you wound your fingers in his hair. You felt your body going limp even before your orgasm fully hit. And somehow you just knew what was going to happen before it did.

You propped yourself up slightly, as well as you could, and you watched Bradley work his lips on your overstimulated pussy. And then when you came, you gushed all over his mustache and lips, a sound like a dying animal on your lips. Bradley went harder, lapping up every bit of the squirting mess you made. 

Your eyes closed and opened a few times, feeling numb now as you drew your legs together. "I made a mess," you whispered, slurring your words a bit as Bradley eased his body fully on top of yours. He kissed and positively worshipped you with his lips and wet mustache. He smelled like you. The whole room did. 

"You squirted, Baby Girl. Not a mess. Perfection. I love it," he whispered, stroking your neck with his thumb and pressing on your pulse point while your eyes closed again. You could feel how hard he was again. 

"Bradley?" you whispered, turning your head to the side as he sucked hard on your neck. He was grinding against your body, but you couldn't figure out what to do for him. You just wanted to make him feel good. 

"Please?" he rasped, his breath hot on your ear and your neck. "I wanna fuck you."

Silently you spread your legs open for him, and Bradley was thrusting his cock inside you with one hard snap after the next, fucking you into the bed. His lips were harsh on your nipples, and you could only manage to stroke your fingers through his hair softly. 

"You feel so good, you feel so fucking good," he grunted, voice shaking as he somehow got you to squeeze gently around his cock while you moaned softly. 

When he came, he filled you up, but you were almost asleep by the time he withdrew. "Sweetheart?" he asked, stroking your cheek and kissing your lips. "Are you okay?"

"I'm good," you promised, and he carefully scooped you up against his chest and cradled you in his arms. As you dozed against his chest, you could hear him pick up the phone and say, "Hi, this is the Bradshaws. We're going to need a piece of cheesecake and some clean bedding."

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

After Bradley drew a bath and got you situated in the tub with a bottle of water, he kissed you and pulled on some shorts. When the housekeeper arrived, he closed the bathroom door so you had some privacy. You'd never looked quite this spent before. 

You weren't wrong. That toy needed to be handled with caution. You had instructed him to wash it, put it back in its case, and send it to the bottom of your sinful suitcase. And now Bradley wasn't sure how soon he would see it again. 

Once the bedding was replaced and you were dried off, Bradley led you outside to the deck in your fluffy bathrobe. "Time for dessert," he whispered, and you sat on his thigh with your head on his shoulder. He fed you a bite of cheesecake every time you parted your lips, and when you were chewing, he took one for himself. "You did so good," he promised, kissing your hair and rubbing your thigh. "So so good. Squirted for me and let me cum in your pussy."

You parted your lips again, taking another bite of dessert from the fork as Bradley softly sang your praises with the sound of the waves breaking on the shore as a soundtrack.

When you fell asleep in bed, you were out cold until the morning. 

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

You only had two days left in Hawaii with Bradley. Your husband. Everything had been perfect. You only wanted to be around him nonstop, have him touching you and talking to you. You didn't know how you were going to be able to fall back into your previous routine when you had to return to San Diego. Because when you had to return to work in a few days, you wouldn't get to have sex every eight hours, and have Bradley feed you dessert, and walk around naked.

You sighed against his cheek. He was sound asleep on the lounge chair, and you carefully extracted your body from his, nearly falling into the pool in the process. With a grin on your face, you tied up your red bikini bottoms and adjusted your top. 

The other day, you had slept for twelve hours after Bradley had overstimulated you during dinner. Now it was his turn. He earned this nap. You'd kept him hard for an hour before finally letting him cum inside you. He was almost entirely unwilling to cum anywhere else at the moment, even when you mentioned your face as an example of a lovely place to do that.

You bent and kissed his cheek, and then you slid the deck partition open and took off toward the water. You walked up and down the long stretch of sand, occasionally stopping to wade in the ocean up to your knees. 

The north end of the resort where your villa was located was much quieter. You only ran into a handful of people as you searched for shells, which was fine with you. Somehow you hadn't thought to feel self conscious around Bradley during your honeymoon. You'd been strutting around naked or barely clothed and letting him touch you everywhere all the time. But truthfully, you had never really felt shy about your looks around him at all. He was always so excited to tell you what he thought about you physically, and it had always been very flattering. 

But now that you were out on the beach instead of just the private patio in your tiny red bathing suit, you were wishing you'd grabbed his floral print shirt from the deck chair. 

You washed off the collection of colorful shells you found in the calm, pristine water, and then turned back toward the villa. 

"You dropped this one."

You turned back toward the water and saw a guy holding out one of the larger shells you had found. "Thanks," you told him, holding out your hand for it. But with a grin on his face, he shook your hand instead.

"I'm Aaron," he told you, holding your hand expectantly. 

You laughed and told him your first name. "I was actually reaching out for the shell."

"I know," he told you with a nod and a laugh. "But the opportunity was too good to pass up."

Now you were holding out a grabby hand which made him laugh more, but he handed you the shell. "I like your tattoo. It's unique," he told you, his eyes dipping down your body. You froze immediately. This was the first time you could recall anyone other than Bradley or your friend Caleb laying eyes on your dainty rooster. 

"Thanks," you said, and the word sounded long and drawn out even to your own ears. "It's kind of new," you told him, still in a bit of a daze.

"It's some sort of bird?" he asked, grinning and taking a small step closer. "Are you a bird enthusiast?"

You almost snorted. "Well, I like roosters."

He was rambling on about birds now as his eyes were glued to your tattoo, and you were trying to find a good break in what he was saying to let him know you had to get back to your husband. And that's when you heard Bradley's voice.

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

Bradley mumbled your name as he woke up, but when he moved his left arm, you weren't there. The sun was warm on his skin now, and he felt like he had slept for days. You were a handful. You'd spent the last week continuously luring him to bed with you. Not that it was a difficult sell for him at all. He just really needed that nap.

He could hear the music still playing through his phone as he stretched and stood with a groan. It had to be close to dinnertime, and he was starving. But after calling your name and glancing around the villa, he decided to go in search of you before making any decisions about what to eat. 

He knelt next to the pool and splashed a little water on his face and ran his fingers through his hair. He really needed to shave, but you kept telling him you were enjoying the rough feel of his facial hair. Maybe he wouldn't shave for the few days both of you had off over the upcoming holidays. Maybe he could even stretch it to your birthday. 

How on Earth did he feel so needy for you at the moment? Probably because he'd been with you nonstop for days and days, and he was so used to the feeling of contentment that came when you were close by. He wanted you, so he set off to find you. 

Slipping through the open partition, Bradley started to stroll between palm trees and flowering plants and made his way toward the water. And when he glanced to his left, he spotted you right away. It would be impossible to miss you in that sinful little bikini. You told him you bought it in red because it's his favorite color, and that made him feel so smug.

But now some other random asshole was looking at you. In your red bikini. The one you bought to show off how good you looked and make Bradley hard. What the fuck?

Bradley started heading toward you. Now this guy was touching you, and now Bradley was getting pissed. He squinted to get a better look as he got closer, but he could tell his guy was eyeing you up.

"Jesus Christ," Bradley muttered, walking a little faster. He was pointing at your pussy, and Bradley saw him mouth the word 'tattoo' while he did so. 

That was for Bradley to look at. Only Bradley. Your husband.

"Oh no you don't," Bradley announced as he strolled up behind you. "This one is mine."

You spun to face him with a bright smile. "You're awake!"

But now this guy was looking at your ass as you wrapped your arms around Bradley's waist.

"Hey," Bradley barked, and the other man's eyes snapped up to meet his. "Give it a rest, man. She's got my rings on her finger, my tattoo by her pussy, and she's still full of my cum from earlier." 

"Bradley!" you said with a startled laugh, looking up at him with a thoroughly shocked expression. "Did you wake up on the wrong side of the lounge chair?"

"I did. The side where my wife wasn't there. Let's go."

You muttered an apology to that asshole, saying, "Sorry, he gets a little cranky. He probably needs to be fed."

"Wrong, Baby Girl," he growled, palming your ass and tossing you over his shoulder while you laughed and screeched. "I need to be fucked by my wife."

"Okay, Daddy," you muttered as he carried you back to the villa, stroking his fingers along your thighs. "I can take care of that for you."

Three minutes later, Bradley was splayed back on the lounge chair naked, and you were untying your bikini bottoms again. His hard cock jumped against his abs as the red fabric fell to the deck at your feet.

"Come here," he demanded softly, and you straddled his thighs so he could feel your wet pussy on his balls. "This is mine," he whispered, skimming his fingers along your tattoo as you nodded hungrily at him. "And this is mine." He ran his fingers through your pussy as you cried out in need. "And this is mine, too." He stroked your cheek with his wet fingers and then let you lick yourself from his hand. 

You were grinding against his cock, and he couldn't get himself inside you fast enough. "Roo!" you sang so prettily as you rode him. He gripped your hips, guiding you exactly where he wanted you as he covered your tattoo in your own wetness. 

"I love you so much," he promised, sliding your bathing suit top to expose both of your tits. He stroked your nipples softly as you bounced on him, then he pulled you closer to get his mouth on you. 

He sucked on your tits hard enough to leave bruises that you would feel the next day. And when you came on his cock, whining Daddy loud enough for anyone on the beach to hear, Bradley couldn't stop himself. With your nipple in his mouth, he bucked up into you until he filled you with even more of his cum. 

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

When you finally caught your breath, you were draped across Bradley with his dick still inside you and your lips on his neck. "Were you a little jealous of that guy on the beach, Roo?" you asked softly. 

He gently stroked his hand along your arm until he reached your hand. "He was looking at your tattoo. I was feeling a little territorial."

You laughed, your sticky body rubbing his. "I was feeling a little self conscious. I don't think this bathing suit was made for public consumption."

Bradley kissed your fingers. "It's definitely made for private consumption, Sweetheart. But you look so fucking hot in this tiny scrap of fabric, I can't even be mad that someone else was looking at you."

"You always make me feel good about myself," you whispered, and Bradley wrapped his arms around you. 

"Will you wear this in my next calendar?" he asked, and you started laughing again. 

"What makes you think you're getting another calendar?"

"I thought I was getting one every year for my birthday!" He'd been thinking about you in another set of calendar photos with a pregnant belly. It was almost too much. Then he'd have two versions of you to jerk off to.

"Mmm," you hummed. "If that's what you really want, I'll see what I can do. Come shower with me."

Bradley carefully washed your body, letting his hands enjoy the feel of all of your curves while you washed his hair. He was nearly panting with his eyes closed as your fingers worked into his scalp. It was just like the first night he ever spent with you. Bradley had known even then that he wanted to end up here with you today. 

"I love you, Baby Girl. More than anything."

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

Thanks so much for reading! The next chapter will be the end of this series as they return to San Diego. I have loved every minute it this adventure, and I hope you'll keep reading along with Roo and Baby Girl on their next adventure! Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 25

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[averagewriter-inthedark]

It’s A Long Way To The Top 🎸 | Pete Maverick Mitchell / Top Gun Maverick Imagine

Takes place after the events of TGM

Top Gun Maverick Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x 80s Rockstar!reader (romantic), Bradley Bradshaw x reader (mother/son-type relationship), Dagger Squad (platonic) Hondo (platonic)

Content warnings: Fluff, slight profanity, flirtatious banter, light suggestive content, mentions of past drug use. | Female!reader (she/her) | wc: 13.5k

Social Media matching HC

Premise: The Dagger Squad didn’t know much about their former instructor turned friend, Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell. Only Rooster had insight on all there was when it came to the famous pilot, and his love life certainly fell into that. When the squad shows up unannounced to Maverick’s San Diego home for his birthday weekend, they are greeted with the shock of the lifetime when it’s revealed Maverick’s lady once ruled the radio of the decade they were born in. And what better way for them to properly meet one of the greatest rockstars to ever exist than by attending the bands reunion concert that night.

Note: So TC was born in 1962 and that what it also says for Maverick (although with his rank I doubt it lines up but Imma just go with it), so for this imagine you were born in 1964 and were the front woman of a famous 80s rock band who Mav meets after the events of Top Gun. I love rock music and have been listening to it nonstop the past week and this inspired me. At first I was gonna do this with Rooster or Phoenix with a modern day rockstar, but then I thought Mav was better suited for what I had planned.

Also in my research I found that the Staples Center (which is going to mentioned a lot) opened in 1999 and is now called Crypto.com Arena, but for this just imagine it opened in the 80s and is still called the Staples Center. Personally I will always refer to it as that even though it got a new name. Last thing, my favorite band is AC/DC and i use two of their songs as ‘your’ songs verbally said. The album/era names are ones I thought of off the bat, and feel free to imagine your friends as your bandmates, I just gave them names to make it easier when writing. And the photo on the collage is to show the outfit reference—I don’t write with any indication of race/ethnicity/etc unless it’s for an OC. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

————————————

“Are you guys sure about not warning Rooster we’re coming?” Bob voiced from the passenger side of Nat’s car. In the backseat were Mickey and Payback while Hondo drove the car behind them containing Hangman and Coyote.

“Bradshaw will spoil the surprise,” Fanboy reminds him, “And the whole point of this is to surprise Mav. We haven’t seen him in months and this is the first time we’re all together again.”

“I know,” Bob sighs, leaning back into his seat before glancing at Nat, “How did you even get his address, Nat?”

She doesn’t stray her eyes from the road as she responds, “I may have convinced Admiral Simpson to give it to me, saying we all wanted to send Mav a birthday gift but didn’t have his permanent residence. I know he’s often in the Mojave desert during his vacation, but Cyclone gave me his San Diego home address.”

“Hondo didn’t even have Mav’s address?” Mickey says more to himself, surprised the man did not. He was Mav’s closest friend and had been with him since the Darkstar project.

“Hondo only had his Mojave camp—which isn’t really an address when you think about it. It’s quite literally on an old airstrip that’s not even used by the Navy anymore,” Nat tells him, “Mav lived there during their assignment so it makes sense why he only had that one.”

“So what I’m hearing is you deceived Admiral Simpson so we can show up on Mav’s doorstep like ‘surprise! We’re here!’ And Cyclone just gave it to you with no questions asked?” Payback raises a brow, catching her eyes in the rear view mirror.

“Not entirely,” she defends, “I mean we are sending him a birthday gift…..it’s just we are the birthday gift.” At the laughs from the men Nat rolls her eyes, “Y’all are in this too, so I don’t know why you’re laughing. We’re almost there. GPS says ten minutes.”

The Pacific Ocean was to their right, the sun high in the sky as the time reached one o’clock. They noticed as they traveled down the road that the houses were becoming more distant and eye-catching. “Damn,” Fanboy whistled under his breath at one point.

When they got to the turn to enter the neighborhood, they were greeted with a closed gate and security. Nat mentally cursed, not anticipating Mav lived in a gated community.

Now the jig was up and they were gonna have to call Rooster.

While Nat spoke with one of the security guards Bob was already dialing Bradley, who answered with a confused, “Hey, Bob. What’s up?”

“Rooster, hey, I’m sorry to bother you but the squad and I were planning to surprise Maverick for his birthday tonight and well….we’re kinda at the entrance to his neighborhood. We didn’t think it would be gated and needed confirmation from the resident to get in.”

“Ah damn,” Bradley said with a laugh and Bob could hear him fiddling with his keys. “I wish y’all would’ve told me, but then again I know I probably would’ve ruined it.” It was the truth, Rooster could not keep a secret if his life depended on it. Last year he unintentionally spoiled Nat’s surprise party when she got promoted. Soon it became a running joke amongst the group. “Just hang tight, I’ll be right there.”

“Wait, are you at Mav’s house?” All eyes in the car turned to Bob, the WSO catching the sound of Rooster’s Bronco starting up.

“Yeah, I’m on the list and can get y’all in. Hang on, imma tell him I’m running out to get beers.” There was a pause on the receiver before a car door shuts and Rooster says, “I’ll be there in two minutes.” Bob stayed on the line before hanging up when they caught sight of the bright blue vehicle approaching from the other side of the gate. Rooster pulled off to the side, exited the car and approached the security hut where another officer met him in the middle. The team watched as they exchanged words before the guard Nat spoke with was called over.

When he returned seconds later he said, “we’re gonna open the gate and if you could please pull off to where my buddy directs you and step out. We have to check the cars.”

“Sure thing,” Nat says with a wave as he goes to relay the same to Hondo. Passing the gate, she parks the car where the guard instructs and all four step out from the vehicle. Hondo pulls up seconds later with Hangman and Coyote coming over to stand with the group as Rooster approaches.

“Well this sure is some special treatment,” Hangman jokes when an officer comes up with a metal detector to begin scanning the squad while the two search their cars. He notices one of the officers writing down the car information, including the license plate number. “Never seen this before when I’ve been to a gated neighborhood.”

“It’s just precaution since it’s your first time” Rooster says, dabbing up the guys when they are finished being scanned. “It’s good to see you guys.”

“It’s good to see you too, Bradshaw,” Nat gives him a hug and appears apologetic. “Sorry we didn’t let you know in advance.”

“Ah it’s all good. Like I told Bob I probably would’ve ruined it.” They all laugh, some muttering sounds of agreement. It was all in good heart though, Bradley wasn’t offended. He was just happy to see his friends again and celebrate Mav’s 60th with them.

The only thing….they were in for their own surprise when they got to the house.

“Does the governor of California live here or something?” Javy jokes, but judging by the way Rooster reacts he’s certain there is some truth to it.

“All clear!” The main guard shouts, nodding to Rooster. “Y’all are free to go, just make sure to call in if you leave the area and return later on.”

“Will do,” Rooster salutes, shaking his hand afterwards. “Thanks again, Frank.” Telling his friends to follow behind him, they all got into their respective vehicles and headed down the road leading to the neighborhood.

“Sheeeesh,” Mickey says in awe at some of the houses they passed. They looked to be a million bucks. Literally. They were distanced quite a bit like something you see in Calabasas and had long entrances. “Mav should be on MTV’s cribs. How the hell does a naval Captain get something like this?”

“Probably by saving for that perfect retirement home,” Nat comments, eyes lingering on one house that caught her eyes.

“Nah,” Payback shakes his head, “I’ve seen Admirals with places not even to this extent. No offense to Mav, but I don’t see how an O-6 could afford a place like this.” About a minute passed before they were turning into a long driveway, all four jaws dropping at the sight of the home.

Yeah they needed to know Pete’s secret.

It was a gorgeous two-story mediterranean style home with an iron gate surrounding the perimeter. The exterior was beautiful, with flowers and various plants on the grounds. A front enclosed patio was the first thing they could see connecting to a foyer where the front door was located. Only one word could describe the home: marvelous.

The driveway was crescent shaped and could fit at least four cars with a side entrance leading to the garage. Rooster pulled up to the furthest spot allowing Nat and Hondo to pull up behind him. “Holy shit,” Fanboy says in awe, hopping out of the car and shutting the door behind him.

Shutting his own door, Hangman whistles, “If this is what retirement looks like, I can’t wait.”

“C’mon,” Rooster chuckles, nodding his head to the entrance. “Mav’s in the garage working on his bike.” The squad all rushes to get the gifts, beer, and food they had brought for the pilot, following behind Rooster while trying to not make it look like they were gawking at the home. They hadn’t even seen the inside yet but could already tell it was going to be as incredible as the outside.

Putting a finger to his lips, the group remains quiet at Rooster’s command as they ease their way into the garage. It was very similar to the one at his camp hangar in the desert. Pictures hung on a wall with several plaques. Motorcycles lined up and sitting in the corner was a gorgeous 1966 Dodge Charger. Coyote had to put a hand to his mouth to keep from making a sound when he saw it.

“That you, Bradley?” Mav said with his back to the group, unaware his practically surrogate son was not alone. He was dressed in a greased up white tee with some old light washed jeans and boots. Playing on the radio was the 80s on 8 channel from SiriusXM.

“Yeah it’s me,” Rooster places a case of beers the squad brought on the counter near the fridge. “I brought some strays too while I was at it.”

“Strays? What—?” Mav laughs, moving to turn around which resulted in his mouth dropping and wrench clinking to the floor.

“Surprise!” Everyone shouted, grinning widely at their former instructor who was completely speechless. “Happy Birthday, Mav!”

“Wha-oh my gosh!” The pilot's feet moved before he could stop them, embracing Phoenix first since she was closest before doing the same to the others. As he pulls away from Hondo, patting his back Mav goes, “What’re you doing here?”

“Surprising you for your birthday, old man,” Hangman lightly punches his shoulder. “You’re turning the big six-zero, there was no way we were missing it.”

“Aww thanks guys,” the man blushes, grinning when they bombard him with gifts. “It’s so good to see you all—I-I wish I would’ve known you were coming.”

“Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise, Cap,” Fanboy points to him with a knowing look.

“True,” Mav laughs, directing the crew to put the bags and all on the counter in the garage where the sink was located. “Thank you all so much, you really didn’t have to do all this.”

“It’s been a long time since we’ve seen ya, Mav,” Phoenix tells him, accepting the beer Rooster offers her that was already in the fridge. He passes them out to the crew, except Bob and Mav who kindly decline. Phoenix waves a hand, “Quite the place you got. Rooster had to come save us at the gate.”

Mav raises a brow at Rooster, “You didn’t know about this?”

“Nope,” he pops the ‘p’, “I’m sure you can guess why.” It takes Mav a moment, but then he chuckles, thinking back to the many times Bradley did ruin a surprise. Nat’s promotion party, Hondo’s birthday dinner, and the tickets the group got Mickey to attend SDCC’s Star Wars reunion panel.

“We hope we didn’t catch you at a bad time,” Bob says. “Dropping in unannounced. We weren’t sure if you had anything planned this weekend, but we all took a few days off—got rooms in TLF back at Fightertown, so we would love to take you out for dinner or something this weekend.”

Mav glances at Rooster, who gives a knowing look to the pilot while sipping his beer. The two share a silent exchange of words before he scratches the back of his neck….a few catch the reflective metal of a gold on his left ring finger. Phoenix and Bob’s eyes widen, looking around to see if anyone else spotted what they did.

“Um, well we did have plans tonight—but I can make a call and figure something out. Tomorrow for sure I’m free all day so whatever you guys want to do I’m game.”

“What kind of plans?” Coyote asks before Payback and Hondo nudges him for being nosy. “Owwww.”

Hesitant to reply, Mav gives Rooster another look before nodding his head to the door, “why don’t you guys come inside. Make yourself comfortable while I make a quick call.”

“Are you not going to—,” Mav is quick to cut Bradley off with a wink. Confused, the entire squad look at each other with the same expression before following behind Mav while Rooster is the last to enter and shut the garage door.

Pete doesn’t have to turn around to know they were all gawking at the interior of the home. The first rooms closest to the garage were the laundry room, open kitchen and dining room. Sounds of approaching steps alerted the group and several audibly reacted to the adult Dalmatian, white husky, and golden retriever puppy racing after them.

“Oh my gosh,” Javy kneeled down to pet the Goldie pawing at his legs. “Your dogs are adorable.” The husky was licking at Jake’s face while Phoenix and Bob were occupied with the Dalmatian before each dog inspected each of the guests. “What are their names?”

“That’s Ice,” he pointed to the husky first then the Dalmatian, “Bella.” Lastly he pointed at the puppy, who was kissing up on Mickey, “and Goose.” They spend a good three minutes right there in the kitchen allowing the dogs to receive attention from the squad before Mav directs them to the living room.

And that’s when they pass the cabinet.

A cabinet that was just one of many.

“Uh, Mav,” Payback stops, causing those behind him to do the same, gaze locked on the floor to ceiling glass cabinet—if you could call it that, it was more like a shrine.

Dedicated to one of the world's most renowned rock bands.

“Yeah?” Mav already knew what they were looking at. And that was only scratching the surface compared to the others in the house.

“Say, uh—,” Payback tilts his head, pointing to the cabinet, “Are you like, obsessed with ‘Y/n & the Romantics’,” several eyes trailed along the various shelves lined with actual Grammy awards for ‘Best Rock Performance by a Duo/Group’, ‘Best Rock Album’, ‘Best Rock Song’, ‘Record of the Year,’ & ‘Album of the Year,’ going back as 1980 to 2021 as the most recent. Other awards included almost a dozen in MTV Moonmen, Billboard Music Awards, American Music Awards, and an Oscar for ‘Best Original Song’. Framed photographs of the band hung on the walls and perched on the shelves. Some included them with famed music legends like Cher, Prince, Micheal Jackson, Cyndi Lauper, Lionel Richie, Def Leppard, and Duran Duran….those of which the squad could make out the signature on the photograph itself. An eye catcher was the USA for Africa signed photograph of every artist, including the Romantics, featured in Michael Jackson’s “We Are The World.”

One shelf pretty much was reserved for all the times they were the musical guests on SNL. Four times to be exact. Another shelf, that had their eyes boggling, was dedicated to their 1999 Super Bowl Halftime performance with a football signed by the band and head coaches of the teams that played that year.

Fanboy nearly shit his pants when he saw the guitars mounted on the wall. Not only were they signed by absolute icons, including Elvis fucking Preseley, but one of which was the iconic checkered neon pink Fender Stratocaster frontwoman Y/n L/n played in the 80s.

Y/n L/n. Dubbed the ‘daughter of Rock ‘n’ Roll’ with a voice that had people say she was what an angel would sound like if they rebelled from God to become a rockstar. Together with some of her best friends from high school, formed the group ‘Y/n & the Romantics,’ signing with a small label in Atlanta, Georgia in 1978 at aged 14 after being discovered on the corner of a street playing covers of Elvis, The Beatles, and Billie Holiday. What had the producer write up a contract right there was when he heard Y/n’s rendition of ‘Crybaby,’ by Janis Joplin. It was as though Janis had been reincarnated. Her voice was unlike anything he’d ever heard.

They released their first single on New Year’s Day of 1979. That first single that had RCA Records knocking on their door and shot them into becoming one of the best selling rock bands of all time. When MTV launched on August 1, 1981, their music video for their Grammy Award winning single was the third to be played after ‘Video Killed The Radio Star,’ by the Buggles, and ‘You Better Run’ by Pat Benatar. Y/n & the Romantics became teen sensations, dominating the 1980s and 90s before going on hiatus in the early 2000s. Y/n was not only known for her recognizable, unique voice but also her split dye hair, leather outfits, stage presence, and signature pink guitar she named, ‘Dirty Shirley.’

And it was in Maverick’s house.

“Holy shit,” Phoenix breathed out, patting Payback to look to the left. That’s when he noticed the wedding picture hung on the wall not too far from where they were standing. The bride, kissing Maverick in the photo, was the same woman holding a Grammy with her bandmates.

Eyes bulging out, Payback whistled and asked what they were all thinking, “Or…. you got something to tell us?”

August 15, 1989. Los Angeles, California. Club Electic Idol

“Tell me, Pete—or do you prefer Maverick?” The blue light shining above her in the bar had the glitter on her face reflect. She was dazzling. Unlike any woman he’d ever met. And Pete met a lot in his career, though they never captivated him like she was now. He wanted to dance with her forever

Arms around his neck, their bodies pressed together as they swayed to the beat of ‘When Doves Cry,’ by Prince. The leather adorning her body was smooth against his fingertips. Completely ignorant of the flashing of cameras from the side and envious gazes of both men and women around them. Never did the pilot think when he, Ice, and Slider agreed on coming to that bar after the concert that he would end up with the frontwoman in his arms. They were just looking for a place to grab a quick drink, maybe dance with a girl or two, and chill before heading back to their hotel.

Guess Y/n & the Romantics were looking to do the same. Fate seemed to bring them together.

“Either is fine, sweetheart.” She smirked at the nickname, finding it amusing. God, even her smirk was sexy. Everything about her was.

“You do that little show of yours each time you see a pretty lady? Or am I just special?”

Damn she caught him.

Truth be told it scared the shit out of him to even think about doing it. Had it not been for the light buzz from drinking a couple beers and encouragement from Ice saying, “You’re the only bloke in this bar who could probably get her into bed if you tried, Mitchell. I saw her eyeing you when you went to pick a song on the jukebox.”

At first he refused. It was Y/n fucking L/n of all people. And there were plenty of people, men and women, who were taking a shot at swooning the rockstar. Left and right they were offering her drinks and asking her to dance. Mav would only go up to her if Ice and Slider sang with him. There was no way in hell he would embarrass just himself. Especially if it didn’t turn out the way he wanted.

The fact it actually did work had the pilot thank his guardian angel, who no doubt had to have been Goose.

“I’ve only done it a few times. The first crashed and burned. Second time actually got me a date,” his lips curled up, “Now I’m hoping the third time’s a charm.”

“I see,” she hummed, never taking her eyes off him. The silence that indicated she was deep in thought. “What are you hoping to get out of it?”

“Honestly, maybe a kiss when the night comes to an end if you’d allow me the honor. But if not I would want you to never forget me. Just like I won’t ever forget you.”

“After a performance like that, Lieutenant, I’ll remember you till the end of time. And about that kiss….” She brings her mouth closer to his, but still enough distance to keep them apart. Pete felt his heart skip at the proximity, the perfume she wore filling his nostrils. “Keep impressing me and it just might come true.”

Present Day

“Wait-wait-wait,” Phoenix laughed with the guys as Maverick finished telling the story of when he went with Slider and Iceman to see Y/n & the Romantics perform at the Staples center in 1989. They were all seated in the living room—which had more framed photos of not just Y/n and her band but also of her and Maverick over the years and Rooster as a child.

Jake took photos of that on his phone to hold for blackmail. Now it made sense why Rooster was always singing their songs on the piano when they would go out.

After giving a quick tour of the first floor of the home, they all settled in the living room with his dogs as Mav sent a text to his lady to call him after soundcheck. Beers were brought out and some snacks, the crew still processing the news as they took it all in. Eventually after a quick explanation, Pete answered the many questions they had, including just how the hell he managed to pull one of the greatest rockstars to ever exist.

Whose band literally had a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame and were being inducted into the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame in just a few months.

“So from what I’m gathering,” Nat points to her forehead, as though she were deep in thought, “If my brain is right on track here….you were, to put it lightly…a groupie?”

“Now hold on—.” Mav tried to say but was cut off by the obnoxious laughter that was Javy, Mickey, and Jake while Bob and Hondo just shook their heads, although they were grinning wide at the insinuation. Rooster was smirking like, ‘told you so.’ Mav sighed, but he was smiling as the laughter died down. “I was not a groupie. Okay—yeah I had the hope I would meet her after the show, but I didn’t go out of my way to make that happen. They just happened to come to the same bar that night—I swear!”

“That literally sounds like what a groupie is, Mav,” Hondo pats his back. “You just got lucky it went in your favor.”

Blushing, Mav coughed lightly as he laughed with the group before adding, “I’d like to point out that nothing … you know, happened, alright? We simply had some drinks, danced…I may have tried serenading her with my rendition of ‘You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling,’” the laughter got louder, making his blush deepen, “and then we exchanged addresses to send each other letters—because that’s what you did back in the day or call on the landline. It was history from there.”

“Don’t forget, Mav,” Rooster points at him. “You guys made out and then you exchanged addresses before leaving.” Mav has to cover his face to hide his blush when the group hollar and cheer.

“So how long y’all been together?” Rueben asks, finishing off his beer.

“Since 1990. But we didn’t get married until 2002 after the band went on hiatus.”

“How come?” Phoenix tilted her head curiously.

Though Phoenix and most of the guys were not die hard fans of Y/n & the Romantics, they were familiar with their music of course. As one of the most influential rock bands of all time everyone had heard of them in some way, shape, or form. Their parents often played their records, or they’d hear them on the radio and in movies. The squad were all born in the 1980s & early 90s so by the time they got into their teenage years the band had already stopped releasing music. It wasn’t until late 2020 they announced a reunion with the release of their latest album and were currently on tour across North America. During the hiatus however, Y/n still wrote songs for other artists and even released a few solo records. Some of the Grammy’s in the case belonged to only her and not just with the band.

Personal lives of the band members were not something they knew too well. The only people in the group who had knowledge of some details were Mickey, who was a big fan growing up, and Hondo. Bob was also a fan, having played the drums as a teenager and cited them to be a big influence. On google information showed that the group consisted of Y/n, the lead vocalist who also played guitar, Maya the bass player, Evan the lead guitarist, Danny the drummer, and Ronnie on keys. All of them provided backup vocals on tracks.

Maya and Evan ended up falling in love, confirming long time rumors they were together in 1987 and had three kids over the course of the 90s. Danny married a famous actress in 2000 with whom he had a son. Lastly Ronnie was once married to the lead singer of another rock group before divorcing and finding love with a movie producer from when she landed a role in a tv drama, the two adopted a son and daughter in the early 2000s.

Y/n’s information did actually include the fact she and Maverick met in 1989 when they played at the Staples center, that he was a Captain in the Navy being the only man to shoot down five enemy planes in the last 40 years, and were together for over a decade before finally getting married. They did not have kids and the text read how they liked to keep their personal lives private.

Rooster of course knew everything. The first time he met Y/n was in 1991 when he was 7 years old and looked at her like a second mother growing up. She taught him piano and guitar, let him attend shows when the group were on tour in Virginia, and was always a phone call away even after he and Maverick were at odds. Since she didn’t have kids, Bradley was the closest to what it was like having a son. There was no way she was going to let them drift apart after vowing to Carole she would take care of him. They spoke almost weekly with Rooster updating Y/n on his career and asking when she was getting the band back together, knowing she missed going on the road and performing.

“Soon,” she would tell him with a laugh, “I’m working on some songs in the meantime. We all agreed once the kids are older that we’ll come back.” That was in 2012. Now it was 2022 and finally Y/n & the Romantics were on stage performing for a sold out crowd full of people from all ages. They were all in their late 50s but still knew how to rock n’ roll like the good ole days. Y/n never lost her stage presence, the audience thrived on it. Over the years she took care of her voice so she would sound exactly like she did in the 80s. It was her staple after all.

Answering Nat’s question, Mav gave a light shrug, “It just sorta happened that way honestly. We were happy with how things were—marriage was not for us until then. I should say legally married actually, because here in California the relationship was viewed as common law marriage since we had been together for so many years,” Mav explained before taking a sip of water, “Around the time they disbanded the others had young or were starting to have children so they decided to take a break until the kids were grown up.”

“I think that was the first time I saw my mother cry,” Bob chuckled, fixing his glasses as all eyes turned to him. “My mom was—is a huge fan. Anytime we went on road trips she’d play one of their albums. I think she even saw them live when she was in college—said it was one of the best nights of her life. She had a crush on Danny if I’m not mistaken.” Mav smiles, not surprised it was Danny. In the 80s the man was quite the heartthrob.

“How come you never told us?” Mickey cut in. It was a question all were curious to know. Hondo knew Mav was married, but not to whom. He and Penny had history and were friendly at the Hard Deck so they assumed they were together or possibly going to. Finding out he’s been in a long time relationship with Y/n L/n was the shock of their life.

“We like our privacy. It’s why we waited to get married also, because of how big they were in the 80s and 90s. I got followed by paparazzi in the beginning—which was causing problems with my job. We actually pretended to break up in the late 90s to get them off my back,” Mav shrugs again, “I also don’t like the idea of bragging that my wife is Y/n L/n. I love and respect her so much. Yeah I was a fan of her music, but what made me fall in love with her was getting to know her for who she was. Not Y/n the rockstar, but Y/n the girl who replays her favorite songs if someone talks during it. Who can quote every single line from ‘Dirty Dancing’. Who will scold me for leaving seven half filled water bottles on my nightstand.” Laughs rang out at that. “We personally enjoy letting people discover it on their own, rather than telling them upfront.”

“I still can’t wrap it around my head,” Jake waves a hand to emphasize his point. “That you pulled pretty much the woman all our dads, maybe even moms, had a crush on. Your game is on another level. Like please tell me your secrets, pops.” Phoenix playfully slaps Hangman on the shoulder.

Before he could answer the pilot, Maverick’s phone rings causing him to jolt from the couch. “Give me a moment guys,” excusing himself he goes around the corner into the hallway before answering, “Hey, honey.”

“Hey, is everything good? Your message sounded urgent.”

Mav heard sounds in the background, possibly the crew setting up the stage for the night’s show. “Everything is great….uhh-say is tonight’s show sold out?”

“Yessss,” he could hear the confusion laced in her tone. “At least that was what I was told by Hank. Why? Did Bradley want to bring a friend? I’m sure I can get a pass.” Mav let out a sigh, scratching his chin.

“If it’s too much to ask then don’t worry about it, I know you gotta get back to soundcheck and have a few hours until the concert starts. But my former students from a few years ago surprised me today to celebrate my birthday. They’re here at the house—Bradley didn’t even know they were coming, honey.”

Y/n laughed, “I wouldn’t have bet money on him to know,” they laughed together, Y/n following with, “But that’s so sweet of them! I know how much you’ve missed them since you retired last year. How long are they in town?”

“Just for the weekend. They all got rooms on base and were hoping to take me out either tonight or possibly tomorrow. I told them I had plans tonight….”

“But you didn’t tell them what plans, huh?” Mav could picture the smirk on her face. “Do they know?”

“About us? I just finished telling them why I never mentioned anything. They seem to understand and were apologetic for dropping in unannounced. But…..I have not told them that the last stop in your tour is tonight at the Staples Center and Bradley and I were going to be leaving in a few hours.”

“Who all is it?”

“My buddy Hondo from when I did the Darkstar project—I think I’ve told you about him, the two foxtrot teams I did the uranium mission with and two of my reserves. So seven total.”

“I see,” Y/n humed, finding her husband’s situation amusing. He let out a groan, apologizing but she just laughed and said, “Well since it is your birthday and I’ve been wanting to meet your little dagger ducklings forever now,” he smiled at the nickname Y/n had given the pilots. They really were his ducklings. “Let me talk with Hank and the venue manager. Show doesn’t start till seven so there’s plenty of time. Just hang tight and I’ll call you back, okay? I know you're probably losing your mind because you don’t want to miss tonight’s show knowing it’s the last of the tour, but you also want to spend time with them while they're in town. Imma make sure you get both, pretty boy…..and maybe a little something more when the night comes to a close.”

Fuck that got Mav blushing, knowing exactly what she was implying. “Y/n…”

“Love you, Pete. Wait for my call.” Telling her the same, Mav hangs up the phone and reenters the living room. Rooster immediately meets his eye, lifting a thumbs up to which Mav returns with a gesture to signify he was working on it. For the next thirty minutes the squad makes small talk until his phone rings again. “Hey.”

“Would it be okay if you put me on speaker?”

A smile forms on his lips, “Sure thing,” he looks at the group to catch their attention, “Someone wants to say hi,” they all, minus Rooster who’s smirking, watch with confused expressions as Mav hits the speaker button and places the phone on the table. “What have you got for us, honey?” The second the pet name leaves his lips, Mav sees Fanboy drop his now empty cup of water, Phoenix slap a hand over her mouth, Javy pushing Jake and vice versa muttering ‘holy shit.’ Everyone else pretty much does something similar when Y/n’s voice echoes through the receiver, “Hello hello, aviators.”

“Oh my God.”

“Yo this ain’t happening right now.”

“Guys, guys, shut up—holy shit.”

Y/n laughed at the reactions. “It’s so nice to finally—even if it’s over the phone at the moment—meet you guys! Pete talks about you all everyday.”

“I-I wish we could say the same about you, ma’am,” Payback nervously laughs. “We didn’t even know the man was hitched until an hour ago. Also we apologize for the fanboying-fangirling, it’s an honor to speak to such a legend. You’re an icon.”

“Oh you’re too kind,” she awes, “thank you so much. I hope you guys can forgive him for not saying anything—he meant well.”

“We understand,” Phoenix says on their behalf. “We’d also like to say sorry for showing up to your house uninvited—your home is beautiful by the way. We-we just wanted to surprise Captain Mitchell since it’s been so long since we were all together and he’s done so much for us.”

“I think that’s so amazing you guys did that! I wish I could’ve been home to greet you guys and see the look on his face. Did he cry by any chance?”

“Honey please…” Mav pleaded, causing everyone to laugh.

“I’m sorry, babe. Anyways, Pete tells me you guys are in town for the weekend and well……tonight the Romantics and I are playing our last show in L.A at seven. Bradley and Pete were set to leave San Diego around four to make it on time and if y’all are up for the short drive…..I have seven passes reserved with your names on them.”

The reaction of the dagger squad could only be described with a singular word: chaos.

First it was more of denial, but then they saw Maverick and Rooster’s face and realized Y/n was in fact serious. She was inviting them to her concert. The final show in her band’s reunion tour. The soon to be Rock n Roll Hall of Famers.

Yeah, they about lost their minds.

“I gotta call my mom—she’s gonna flip!”

“How the hell am I supposed to continue living life after this?”

“This is your birthday Mav!” Phoenix pointed at him while Bob had his hands in his face, expression unreadable. “You’re not supposed to be giving us anything, it's the other way around!”

“Nat, I would love nothing more than to spend my birthday with you guys at the concert tonight.” That just about made her tear up.

“Yo so this is legit?” Coyote held up a hand, trying to calm his excitement. “We’re actually going?”

“Hell yeah!” Jake said, Rooster and Payback agreeing with a high-five. “What the birthday boy wants, the birthday boy gets.”

“Y/n, thank you so much,” Hondo said on their behalf. “I’m sorry if you can’t hear over these clowns in the background, but I’ll speak for everyone when I say that we are so grateful for you to invite us to experience your show together and celebrate Mav’s birthday. I don’t think we’ll stop thanking you so be warned.”

After a few more minutes of mainly the squad bombarding the rockstar with words of gratitude and thanks, Y/n informs Pete of where to go when they get to the venue and she’ll meet them backstage to give them the passes. When they say their goodbyes and hang up, Coyote goes, “Okay so I don’t know about y’all…but I cannot walk into a rock concert dressed like this,” he gestures to his gray Navy t-shirt and torn jeans, “How much time we got, Cap?” The question has Pete check his watch.

“If we wanna get there before the doors open, I’d say we should leave in about two hours. It’s gonna take at least two hours to get to L.A, and we gotta consider traffic.” Mav thinks for a moment before saying, “I may have something that can help. Follow me.”

In one of the many closets used as a storage place, Pete removed a box from the self and opened it to reveal a bunch of vintage t-shirts of Y/n & the Romantics.

“Oh my gosh this is so cool,” Fanboy awed. Some of the shirts were literally from the 80s and 90s but looked to be in new condition, meaning they must have been extras Y/n kept for safekeeping. Nowadays it was hard for someone to get their hands on anything with the classic logo of Y/n & the Romantics unless it was from Etsy or a private seller. Stores like Hot Topic, Spencers, and those dedicated to the 80s or retro-like were the only places to buy the new style of merchandise. But these in the box, they were classic.

“Look through and see if you can find anything. There’s several sizes and styles—most of these were from their ‘Heartbreaker’ era but you may find some from ‘Love is the Eighth Deadly Sin,’ or ‘Rock ‘n’ Rolling to Heaven.’ We have some leather jackets I’d be happy to lend you guys—and Nat, Y/n wanted me to tell you that you’re more than welcome to borrow anything you’d like.” Her eyes go wide.

“Oh I couldn’t possibly—.”

Rooster claps his hands excitedly, cutting Nat off much to her annoyance, “Time to turn you guys into rockstars. Fuck yeah! This is gonna be the best night ever!”

So that’s how the famed naval aviators ended up in their vehicles on a two hour journey to Los Angeles. It was far from what they expected when they set out to surprise Pete Mitchell, but in Maverick fashion things take a different turn when one least expects it. The couple’s dog sitter was called to tend to their animals since it was likely they would not be coming home till the next day. Just after 3:30pm the squad, now dressed like they were straight from the 80s by cutting holes in their jeans and wearing leather jackets and chains Maverick provided, gathered in the cars and hit the road. Maverick and Rooster ended up driving, with Hondo, Coyote, Hangman and Payback in Mav’s SUV and Fanboy, Bob, and Phoenix with Rooster in the Bronco.

Upon instance from Y/n after chatting briefly with her on the phone to make sure it was okay, Nat relented on wearing the red leather Prada two piece set the rockstar wore at the 1994 MTV video awards. It fit like a glove on the pilot, jaw dropping when she looked at herself in the mirror, “Damn.” While in the car she applied some black eye pencil and smudged it out to give her that 80s grunge appearance, to which she made Fanboy and Bob do the same, “Bradshaw, I expect you to rock this too.” At a red light he applied it like a pro, like he’d done it many times before not even needing to fix it.

The entire way both vehicles played Y/n & the Romantics decades worth of music. It surprised a lot of the crew when they recognized some songs from movies and tv shows they had no idea were by them. “This was in Stranger Things!” Coyote shouted over the sound, head banging his head along to the beat. Another song had Bob go, “Wasn’t this in the Guardians of The Galaxy?”

By the time they got to L.A the city life was at its prime. Traffic was insane as usual but thankfully they made it to the Staples Center just before six o’clock. The sign outside the venue glowed bright with ‘Y/n & The Romantics—Rockin’ Down Memory Lane Reunion Tour. TONIGHT ONLY—SOLD OUT.’ Pete pulled in front of Rooster to speak to the guard when they got to the back gate. After speaking through a radio for confirmation they allowed the two cars to enter and directed them on where to go.

When they get in the building it’s buzzing all around them. Crew members of both the band and the venue run past and speak into radios. They could barely make out the words combined with the faint rumble of the crowd inside. Before a security guard could ask why they were there, Y/n’s managers, Hank and Tasha Robinson noticed them and rushed over. “Pete! Great to see ya!” The pilot exchanged hugs with the couple. They then greet Bradley, who they’ve known since he was a child, and the squad, “You guys must be the pilots! It’s nice to meet you all—are you excited for the show?”

“Absolutely.” “Can’t wait!” “We’re so excited.” “Thank you for allowing us to come on such short notice.”

“You all look great!” Tasha grinned, gasping when she saw Nat’s outfit, “Oh my goodness. Hank, look! You recognize this?” Blushing immensely, Nat didn’t know how to react besides laughing nervously as they complimented her. “You look fabulous, darling.”

“Thank you. It’s an honor to wear it—I-I hope I did it justice.”

At that moment Y/n came around the corner, a slight skip in her step until she was lifted into Pete’s arms causing her to break into giggles. They hadn’t seen each other in almost two weeks while she was touring the west coast cities. It filled the squad with warmth seeing their mentor/friend so happy. Nerves filled them, they were about to meet one the greatest voices of rock music.

Mav spun Y/n around before setting her back down, the two sharing a sweet kiss. “Missed you, baby.”

“I missed you too,” he says against her lips, kissing them once more before guiding her to the group. Bradley is the first to hug Y/n, who squeals in delight since it had been months since they last saw each other.

“Hey sugar, look at you! It seems like every time I see you, you got a new look going on,” she fluffs his hair which was now lighter in tone after he got some highlights. “You look good, Roo. Is this a new shirt?” she gestures to the Hawaiian shirt beneath the leather jacket Bradley was wearing.

“Had to pull it out for the special occasion,” he gives her a sweet kiss to the cheek while handing her the bouquet of flowers he and Mav got. Thanking him, Y/n grins at the sight of the group standing behind him.

“And you fellas must be the famous dagger squad I’ve heard all about!” They were literally speechless as they stared back at the singer. She literally was what one would envision when they thought of a rockstar. Smudged eyeliner with sparkly eyeshadow framed her eyes, dark red lipstick and her outfit was black leather that showed a bit of skin due to some cutouts, but was still modest. Where the skin showed they could make out intricate tattoos and both her arms had half sleeves of ink. She had on a harness with silver chains, thigh high boots with studs along the sides.

She was THE rockstar.

Though in her late 50s, Y/n was still breathtakingly beautiful. Yeah there was some grayness to her otherwise shiny, healthy hair, and some age lines around her eyes and mouth that poked through the makeup, but Y/n could literally pass for mid to late 40s. Same with Pete who just turned 60 and looked amazing for his age. Standing next to each other, they were one hot ass couple.

“It’s so wonderful to finally meet you guys—in person now! Ah I’ve been buzzing with excitement since we got off the phone earlier,” she clapped her hands, moving to Fanboy who was internally losing it like his namesake.

“I-I hi, w-wow. I’m Mickey Garcia—or talk about irony, you may call me Fanboy. It’s an honor to meet you, Mrs. L/n—Mitchell uh-I’m sorry. I’m a big fan.”

Y/n giggled, shaking his outstretched hand before bringing him into a friendly hug. “Oh honey, I don’t even know what to call myself sometimes. But, please call me Y/n. You guys are family now.” She goes down the line to meet each pilot, shaking their hand and hugging while saying their name back to instill it in her memory. Of course she knew their names and faces from photos, but meeting them in person was completely different and Y/n wanted to make sure she would remember who was who. When she gets to Natasha’s she can’t help but shriek, “Yay you wore it! You look amazing-oh my gosh!”

“Thank you so much,” Nat blushes again, this time because the owner of said outfit she wore was gushing over her. “Thank you for letting me wear it—I will do my best to not let anything happen to it.” Y/n assures her to not worry about it and the two have the band photographer take a couple photos of them. The guys video the whole thing causing Phoenix to flip them off at times which has the married couple laugh. Soon the band comes out, causing Fanboy, Bob, and Coyote to almost lose it and before they know it everyone is conversing like it was an ordinary Friday night. Hondo, Mav, Y/n, Phoenix and Payback are off to the side with Maya, Evan, and their kids while the others are chatting with other members and their families who came to the show.

“It’s unreal to think this year marks forty-four years,” Evan said, sitting on one of the chairs with his hand on Maya’s lower back who stood beside him.

“Yeah,” she agreed with a smile, “just a group of kids we were then. With a dream only the effects of good ole weed could give us the confidence to have our asses out at that park and hope someone would hear us.”

Y/n drops her head laughing, aware of the somewhat surprised looks of the aviators and Hondo. “Wait-really?” Y/n was known for her exhilarating stage presence. She was like Elvis, Janis Joplin, and Micheal Jackson, always captivating the crowd and keeping them hype. When watching the performances it was like Y/n was in her own little world and thrived on the energy.

“It was the 70s,” she shrugged, still smiling which made her eyes crinkle. “Believe it or not we all used to have stage fright—especially in the beginning when we first started performing. We were….gosh fourteen when we signed, fifteen when we performed on Johnny Carson. Good Lord I was shaking in my boots in the dressing room,” she gave a mock shake of the shoulders, reliving the memory, “The only way I could get up there and sing was if I had smoked. Took the edge off.” Maya and Evan nodded in agreement, Y/n leaning into Maverick’s arms as he stood behind her chair. “I think it was after we toured in ‘85 for ‘Love Is The Eighth Deadly Sin,’ that I could perform without anything. Though I still did it at times,” her smile fell into more of a sad expression, adding, “and unfortunately being in the industry at that time, and being so young, we were exposed to other things.”

She didn't have to explain to the aviators, for it was public knowledge when they read up on the band during their drive that Y/n, Ronnie and Danny had admitted to experimenting in the 80s with cocaine. It was common in that era, with many artists and actors in Hollywood able to get their hands on it easily. For Y/n, it was the frontman of another rock group she’d been romantically linked to who introduced her to the drug. Thankfully nothing ever happened that caused a big scandal or had the members needing professional help. They had their family, the support of their crew and each other so they never let anyone fall too deep to where they couldn’t get back up.

“But we survived,” Maya emphasizes, beaming at her husband, “and it sure has been one hell of a ride since. I can’t wait for November—I think I’m more excited for the induction ceremony than I was for the Super Bowl.” Evan goes on to playfully reject the claim, insisting his wife was way more excited about getting that call over 20 years ago than the news just last month about the Hall of Fame.

Y/n just shakes her head with fondness, leaning more into Maverick, who kisses the top of her head.

“Brings back memories, huh? Here at the Staples Center again after so many years.”

“Yeah,” he says softly, his friends chatting with the guitarist and bassist. “I just wish Ice and Slider were here. Then it would really be a blast from the past.”

“I saw Slider when we played in Florida. He brought the whole family—it was amazing.”

“Yeah he called me afterwards. Said you guys put on the best show of the year,” his lips curled up, leaning more towards her ear, “he also told me you threw in a song in the set I was going to get a kick out of.”

Y/n mirrored his smile, eyes full of mischief, “Oh you will, but I ain’t saying nothing, hot stuff. You’ll have to wait for when it comes up.”

“Can’t wait,” he chuckles, kissing her cheek lovingly.

Roughly ten minutes later the stage manager was rushing over, “We’re down to t-minus twenty till showtime people—we gotta start clearing!” Immediately the band are hurrying to say their goodbyes. Y/n practically runs to find the person needed to take the group to their seats. When she does, they hand out the passes to each person, “Julius is going to take you all up to the room. It’s gonna be one of the VIP boxes, the closest to the stage I believe, and it should have sodas, water, alcohol, and food. But if you need anything then just run it by him.”

They all spit out words of gratitude, blown away by the special treatment they were receiving. Y/n takes her time to hug each one of the pilots, who wish her good luck and thank her again for everything. Rooster lets his hug linger a bit longer, as does Maverick who brings the woman into a passionate kiss. “Thank you for doing this, baby. I owe you.”

“It’s your birthday, Pete. You know I would do anything to make you happy,” she lowers her voice into his ear, kissing the area just below, “Sorry it couldn’t be like the good ole days when I would sneak you into my dressing for some fun.” His hands squeeze her hips, sighing at the memories as she giggled.

“There’s still the after party,” he warns her, tone thick with something she knew all too well.

“I’m well aware, hot stuff.”

They share another kiss. And another. And another before Y/n pushes him away at the teasing shouts of everyone around them, Pete bidding good luck to her and the band before he sets off with the group. Rooster nudges him, smirking at the retired pilot, “well that kiss sure would motivate anyone about to go on stage.”

“Don’t start, Bradley.”

By the time they reached the room, they could literally feel the rumble of the crowd when the lights in the arena shut off. “Holy shit,” Mickey said, the first to open the balcony door of the room where they would view the show. Inside were couches, chairs, tvs, and refreshments. Coyote had his phone out, videoing the scene for his instagram story as they all grabbed beers and water before taking spots on the balcony.

The sight was surreal. The stage was to their left and extended out, splitting the floor in half. Approximately 20,000 people could fit in the Staples Center, and from the looks of it 20,000 people were in attendance. It was a sold out show after all. People from all age groups were there. Hell Bob swore he saw some young kids on the shoulders of their parents. The most were obviously the older crowd who likely grew up in the 80s, but there were definitely college kids and Millennials.

It got louder and louder when the two minute countdown appeared on the Jumbotron, along with a video montage of the band. Some clips showed them when they were first starting out up to them preparing for the reunion tour. As it drew closer to zero, the video showed a pre-taped montage of each member taking their place on stage. Maya wrapping the strap of her bass around her shoulder, Evan with his guitar. Ronnie taking place in front of the keyboard and Danny sitting at his drums. Lastly Y/n strutted up to the microphone, the clock hitting zero the moment her hand raises in the air and the arena goes black.

Not even a second passes before Evan’s opening guitar riff sends the crowd roaring. It was the opening to, ‘Thunderstruck,’ a song that literally was in almost every modern day action movie known to man. It was hilarious to see the guys and Phoenix lose their shit, recognizing the iconic song. There was a black curtain keeping the actual stage hidden from everyone's view, but chills came onto everyone’s arms when Y/n’s voice filled their ears

“I was caught in the middle of a railroad track.” The crowd echoed the ‘Thunder,’ with the band. “I looked ‘round and I knew there was no turning back.”

“THUNDER!” The squad shouted, fist pumping and beginning to dance. Already they knew it was going to be the best night of their lives.

When the curtain gave way as Y/n hit the chorus of the song, the audience literally exploded, increasing in volume when she shouted into the mic, “Los Angeles let me hear you!!!!” The camera’s were glued to her as she strutted down the middle of the stage where it split the floor. Her voice carried with each lyric, living up to the hype and sounding as though it was still 1985.

Nat—scratch that all of the guys, especially Maverick, were in awe. Jaws dropped, except Rooster who was living his best life having experienced a Y/n & the Romantics show as a teenager. Now as an adult man the aviator was overjoyed seeing his second mom performing on stage again with her best friends.

“Cap, your wife is the coolest person on earth!” Hangman shouted against the loud music. Maverick simply beamed, eyes never leaving his wife, “I know.”

When the song came to an end, Y/n sighed lovingly, “Ahhh it’s good to be back. We’ve missed you all dearly. Did you miss us?” She paused, screams igniting before adding, “That’s what I’m talking about, baby. It’s been twenty years since we last performed here at the Staples Center in Los Angeles, and we’d like to thank you all immensely for welcoming us back. We’ve worked hard the past two years putting this show together for you, the fans. For all of you regardless if you’re just discovering us, or have been rockin since 1979.”

The energy was off the charts the entire concert. Y/n was feeding off of it on stage, and in turn her presence was feeding the crowd. In between sets she interacted with her friends/bandmates, often coming close to those on the floor to ask how they were.

“You having fun tonight?” Everyone nodded frantically, a woman close to the stage shouting, “So much fun! We love you!”

“We love you too, doll. Don’t worry the night is just getting started.” After the first couple songs Y/n informs the crowd, “I hope you all don’t mind, but as you know this is the ‘Rockin’ Down Memory Lane’ tour,” cheers erupted from every angle, “so as a treat for you fine folks this evening, we won’t just be rockin down our own memory lane. We wanna give some shoutouts to some of the greats rock music has ever seen, and some of the friends we made being a part of this world thanks to all of you. And what better way to start than by kicking it off with the song that got us discovered in the first place.”

The audience was going crazy, die hard fans knowing damn well what song the rockstar was referring to. “Whoooo!!!” Coyote felt the chills when Y/n belted out the opening of ‘Cry Baby’ by Janis Joplin. “Damn girl, sing it!” One of the hardest songs to sing, Y/n had so much emotion it nearly brought a tear to some of their eyes. Rooster brought his finger to his mouth to whistle when the song finished.

The band would do three more of their songs or a medley before covering another artist/group. “Y’all may have heard the rumor…..of the special club we’re being invited to join this fall,” Y/n smirked, hand on her hip next to Maya. Cheering indicated the crowd were aware of the news. “We’re not the only ones. Some friends of ours were also invited. You may have heard of them….Duran Duran?” She pauses to let them scream, the woman chuckling before bringing the mic back to her lips. “They just played recently at the Garden and gave a special rendition of our ‘Highway To Hell,’….so we thought to return the favor,” pausing again, Y/n nods to her band where they begin their cover of ‘Hungry Like The Wolf,’ sending the audience into a frenzy.

“I fucking love this song!!” Nat screams excitedly, passing her beer to Rooster so she could freely dance without worrying about spilling it. The outfit she wore likely cost more than her college tuition. She’d be damned if she let anything happen to it.

“Darken the city, night is a wire,” The smile never left Y/n’s face, “Steam in the subway, earth is afire.” Chills happened along her arms when the entire stadium echoed, “do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do.”

She couldn’t wait to see how the guys of Duran Duran, who she and the Romantics were lucky to call friends, react to them singing their song. On Twitter she hinted at wanting to do another collaboration after seeing the video of the band perform their ‘Highway To Hell’. In 1988 the two groups released a single together, topping the Billboard charts for nearly 30 weeks. Plus both were being inducted in November to the Rock ‘N’ Roll Hall of Fame. Surely it would the collab of the century if they did.

Halfway through the show they took an intermission. During that time everyone had a bathroom break, ate some of the food provided and grabbed more drinks. Thankfully Mav did inform them Y/n’s managers got them hotel rooms not too far from the venue so they didn’t have to worry about driving back to San Diego late. When the band returned on stage for the second half of the show it appeared they had changed outfits. Y/n now sported black leather shorts that ended midthigh with fishnets tucked into her leather knee-high boots and a cropped Def Leppard shirt. The sides were cut out showing off her lace bodysuit beneath it. They went straight into songs from their ‘Love & Thunder’ era that took place in the early 90s.

Not too long after she was flagged down by the stage manager, Rick, who was in front of the floor barricade. “What do we have here?” She hummed curiously, taking the two evelopes from him. Rick shouted that it was from the couple directly behind him, who were waving frantically at the singer. The envelop on top said ‘read first.’ Confirming she could read it aloud, Y/n brought the audience to a low tone so everyone could hear.

“Dear Y/n, Maya, Evan, Ronnie, and Danny,” she read off into the mic, glancing to her friends who appeared just as curious as her. “Our names are Damien and Alana Michaels, we’re both 31 years old and met six years ago because of our shared love for your music,” Y/n awed, beaming at the couple then laughed when the letter followed, “We met at a record store and practically fought over the last copy of your limited edition vinyl of ‘Rock n Rollin to Heaven’. We were over the moon when you announced the reunion tour and feel we’ve come full circle tonight seeing as that we fell in love because your music has been an influencial part of our lives. Alana is five months pregnant with our first child,” cheering erupted, causing Y/n to speak louder into the microphone with a giant grin, “Would you do us the honor in revealing the gender of our baby?”

Y/n let the crowd scream for a moment before calming them down again, settling her gaze on the couple, “This envelope right here,” she holds up the unopened document, “has the gender of your baby?”

“Yes!” Alana shouts in glee while Damien nods, mirroring his wife’s expression.

“Give me one moment, honey—don’t go anywhere.” The stadium watches the rockstar rush to her friends, calling them over away from the mics to have a quick chat. Opening the envelope, the camera catches their reaction for the screen and they all talk for a moment before taking back their respective places.Y/n runs over to the couple again, a little out of breath, “Alright! Alana, Damien, congratulations are in store. You are bringing a new life into the world, and the Romantics and I think the best way for you to welcome them is by singing this song when they arrive,” she then looks to the crows, “To anyone who knows the words, feel free to sing along. On three guys,” she points to her friends and counts off, “One…two…three!”

“Isn’t she lovely?” Alana visibly broke into tears while Damien jumps up and down in joy. The band where harmonizing with the frontwoman, the stadium so loud it was hard to hear at times, but thankfully the speakers were at full amp to hear them sing. The couple embraced each other, consumed with happiness at the news. “Isn’t she wonderful?”

“Isn’t she precious?” Staples Center practically echoed with 20,000 people singing Stevie Wonder’s song. Y/n grinned, loving ever second of the coordinated tune. “Less than one minute old.”

“I never thought,” Y/n belted out, “through love we’d be.”

“Making one as lovely as she.”

“But isn’t she lovely, made from love,” Drawing out the ‘love’ Y/n finished the verse by shouting against the screams, “IT’S A GIRL!” Handing back the envelope with the gender to Rick, Y/n asked if she could keep the letter to which the couple agreed. Pocketing it in her shorts, Y/n says, “Congratulations Alana and Damien! Thank you for allowing us to be a part of this exiting moment. On behalf of the Romantics and everyone in attendance, we wish you the absolute best on bringing your daughter into the world and may she be blessed with joy all her life….and maybe unleash her inner rockstar from time to time,” laughter erupted, “give it up for Alana, Damien, and Baby girl Michaels!!”

Fifteen more minutes pass of the band performing their songs before taking a five minute break to set up for their next cover.

“Alright,” Y/n takes a breath, walking down the end of the extended stage. “This next trip down memory lane, has me want to ask you all a question. Ready to hear it?” When they respond with an echo, ‘yes!!’ Y/n allows the smirk to appear, “Do you guys have that one song…that you would call, your stripper song?” A laugh escapes her by the increase in volume from the sold out arena. She could just picture what looks her husband received from his former students. “You know that one song that has you thinking, ‘Gosh give me a pole and I will work it better than anyone has before,’ that kind of song?” Y/n stops halfway through the long stretch of platform, glancing around to the various sections of people.

“I would like to sing for you my stripper song—o-oh okaaaay that’s a nice reaction,” she chuckled, winking at a few spectators on the floor who were like, ‘Hell yeah!’ Pointing a finger out to a random direction, she says with a knowing look, “Now if this happens to be your stripper song too, don’t you get naked—this ain’t that kind of show,” laughter fills her ears, “Plus there's children here tonight, so technically this is a family show. So I would like to apologize now to the parents, but then again, this is a fucking rock show,” the cheers escalated, agreeing with the woman on what she was about to say, “So if you didn’t want them to see us in our element, you should’ve left them at home. But please, for the love of God, keep your clothes on if this song happens to get you in the same mood it gets me. Ready guys!”

“We're ready, babe!” Maya shouts with Evan, Danny and Ronnie giving a thumbs up.

“Step inside!” Y/n yells into the mic.

“Walk this way!” They shout into their own.

“You and me babe!”

“Hey! Hey!”

unworldly, was the way best to describe the Staples Center when the opening chords of Def Leppard’s ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me,’ sounded through the speakers. No wonder she wore the band’s shirt, hinting they were going to cover one of their songs at some point. Fans went crazy when Y/n did some of her iconic moves like crawling on the floor, flipping her hair back and forth and even usuing the mic stand as though it was a pole. She was in her element, the stage was truly where she shined.

Some of the guys were hollaring, patting Maverick on the back with knowing looks. The older man was blushing mad when they realized something was on his mind with the way he was staring at his wife. It didn’t help Y/n was biting her lip, running her hands along her body during the ‘Sugar me sweet,’ line. The camera was glued to her the entire performance.

“I know that look!” Hangman pointed out the Captain’s expression.

“Yeah, Mav, if you plan to sneak off to the dressing room after the show, don’t worry we won’t say anything.”

The band went straight into ‘Hollywood Nights,’ by Bob Seger as way to pay homage to the fact they were performing in Los Angeles, Hollywood not too far away. Jake was a big fan of the song and Rooster videoed the pilot dancing his heart out, spinning Nat around at times as they belted the lyrics.

Coming down to the final 30 minutes of the show, Y/n called the crowds attention, “This next song….is dedicated to someone very special in the audience. He’s turning 60 tomorrow and I’m celebrating twenty years of marriage with him in October.” Her smile became wider at the cheers, walking to the side of the stage closest to where Pete and the gang were.

“That’s you, my man!” Rooster playfully shakes Mav, the squad cheering when the camera pans to him. Giving a little wave, Pete blows a kiss to Y/n, who pretends to catch it.

“Captain Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell everyone,” she pauses lightly, “With him tonight is someone who is practically our son—Lord knows I treat him like one,” Rooster does a little dance, the camera zooming out from Mav to capture the aviator next to him. “And some of his former students, the Navy’s finest fighter pilots, who I like to call his, ‘Dagger ducklings.’” The squad awed at the nickname, Fanboy and Coyote hugging up on the man.

“Does this mean you’re our papa duck, Mav?”

“Imma let y’all in on a little secret,” Y/n leans into the mic with a whisper, “That whole thing about us breaking up in the 90s? Yeah, it didn’t happen.” Laughing, Y/n stands back straight, “Right now I’m feeling a little sentimental. Pete and I actually met at a bar about two blocks away after we played here in 1989. It was there he….to put it lightly, swooned me like nobody had ever done before.” Dropping his head onto the railing, Pete’s shoulders shook as he laughed, the memory of that night replaying in his mind. “Maya knows what I’m talking about.”

“Sure do,” the bassist replied. “I think he put on better show than we did.”

“Oh God,” Maverick put a hand to his mouth to cover his grin. So many emotions were flooding him. Mostly warmth, but a tad of embarrassment.

If only Ice and Goose were here to see this.

“He sure did. And tonight I wanna take him and I down memory lane. So ladies and gentlemen, this is for anyone who’s lost that lovin’ feeling.”

Words couldn’t describe what Pete felt listening to Y/n sing, ‘You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling.’ Maya and Ronnie provided the back up vocals, harmonizing with Y/n during the chorus. The entire time she sang Y/n was swaying and keeping her body faced to the section Pete was at. The two connected eyes at times, lost in each other’s gaze causing the two to feel the love radiate one another.

She sounded so beautiful. Of course it was well known Y/n was very versatile with her music and voice. She could take it high and low, mellowing out for a slow tune. There was a lot of soul in her and the band, which is not surprising since they starting in Atlanta. They grew up on blues, jazz, and classic rock. Inspired by the greats like Billie Holiday, B.B King, Janis Joplin, Elvis, Little Richard, and the Mama’s & Papas.

Pete cheered the loudest in their group when the song came to end, whistling along with Rooster. Y/n blew him a kiss, “Never lose that lovin’ feeling with me, honey.”

Not too long after it came time for the final number. “Imma need ‘Dirty Diana’ for this one,” Y/n announced, moving to the middle of the stage where the mic stand was. A crew member appeared from the side, handing over a neon green Fender Stratocaster. She pulled the strap over her shoulder, “Los Angeles, as we come to tonight’s closing I want you to know you all have, without a doubt, been the best crowd ever. L.A, you know how to bring the energy and we can’t thank you enough for what a blast it’s been playing for you all. What a way to end our tour—can’t believe it’s already over, but fear not…we’re not going anywhere anytime soon.”

Evan, Maya, Ronnie, and Danny all say a few words, then they all thank their managers, crew, friends, and family for allowing them to put on a great show. Lastly they thank the fans in an tearfelt speach, finishing it off telling everyone to have a safe journey back home and to keep rockin n rolling. Y/n closes it out with, “Los Angeles sing this last one with us. It’s been a long way to the top,” the screams got louder, “but worth every damn second.”

Staples Center erupted, Y/n letting her hands work magic on the guitar as she played the opening riff of ‘It’s A Long Way To The To (If You Wanna Rock ‘N’ Roll) .’ Then Evan came in his riffs followed by Danny’s drums. Maya and Y/n banged their head together, leaning toward one as they feed off each other’s energy.

“Oh shit!” Payback whistled, shaking his shoulder along to the beat. This was a song he used to dance to in college with his buddies. It brought back memories for the pilot, nostalgia filling him just like it was to many in the crowd.

“Ridin’ down the highway. Goin’ to a show. Stop in all the byways. Playin’ rock ‘n’ roll.”

“Gettin’ robber, gettin’ stoned, gettin’ beat up. Broken-boned. Gettin’ had, gettin’ took. I’ll tell you, folks, it’s harder than it looks.”

Pretty much everyone shouted the lyrics in the chorus, one of the most recognizable ones in music history.

“It’s a long way to the top if you wanna rock ‘n’ roll!”

“It’s a long way to the top if you wanna rock ‘n’ roll!”

It went crazy during Y/n’s solo that had all the pilot’s, minus Mav & Rooster, jaws drop. The entire show she hadn’t played the guitar much save for maybe two songs, but it was not to the absolute greatness she was displaying now. Evan guitar solos were off the chain, as were Danny’s drums. Then they had Ronnie tearing it up on the keys with Maya crowning herself the queen of the bass. The voice of the band, Y/n showed she was as talented with the instrument as she was putting lyrics to paper and belting them out for her heart’s desire.

They truly were one of the greatest rock bands to exist.

Even after the song ended they were going hard on the instruments, finishing the show with a literally bang. Lights were flashing, every single person on their feet, Danny and Evan hitting one last solo and instilling the moment as one for the history books.

“Thank you, Los Angeles!! We’ll see you next time! Good night and keep on rockin’!!”

11:58 pm, two blocks away at Melvin’s Planet Enterprise Bar

“Feels like deja vu,” Y/n laughed, dancing with Pete to the tune of ‘When Doves Cry’ in the familiar bar. Though it had a new name and owner, it still gave the same effect as it did in 1989. This time, however, there were posters of Y/n & the Romantics, one of which was signed and framed just above the jukebox playing classic hits and even some of theirs.

Y/n had changed out of her clothes again, wearing black jeans and tank top with a blue leather jacket that had studs and chains attached to the sides. Her makeup had been touched up, hair pulled in a ponytail. It was almost comical how the scene was just like that night in ‘89 with blue strobe lights shining down on them, making her look illuminated.

The dagger squad were in their own little world, dancing and drinking with each other and the band’s crew members. Jake was getting along quite well with someone from Y/n’s glam team, Nat chatting with a member of the security. Then there was Coyote dancing with the oldest daughter of Maya and Evan. They had rented out the place after the show, everyone hauling ass to celebrate the end of the tour. All grown up, the children of the Romantics could enjoy the night as well, not having to worry about being underage now that the youngest of the bunch had turned 21 the previous month.

When they arrived the party was in full blast, Rooster pulling Y/n to the dance floor to share a dance. Then they duetted ‘Great Balls of Fire,’ with him on the piano. Everyone sang at the top of their lungs. Pete held Y/n, head banging with her at the ‘Mine! Mine! Mine!’ bit and sneaking kisses during, ‘kiss me, baby!’

When her feet started to hurt from standing, Y/n sat in Pete’s lap and nursed a cocktail while they chatted with Hondo and Ronnie’s wife. Over in a corner Bob was on the phone with his family after his sister saw Phoenix’s instagram story, “You saw Y/n & the Romantics tonight!?! How the hell did you manage to get tickets—they were sold out!”

“Uhh….you remember my instructor from that mission awhile back? Turns out he’s marrried to Y/n L/n.”

“WHAT!?! Pete Mitchell was your instructor!?” Bob swore his mother about went into cardiac arrest, screaming when Y/n appeared on screeen after he politely asked if she would mind saying hello to his mother. The rockstar of course said yes, she loved interacting and meeting supporters. They were the reason she got to live her dream. Bob nearly cried seeing his mother in tears, overcome with emotion at the fact she was meeting her favorite singer of all time. After the call ended Y/n gave the WSO a tour program she had all the members sign, “give this to your momma for me. Tell her I hope to see her on the next tour.”

The dagger squad were literally becoming Y/n’s adoptive children by the second. Mickey couldn’t believe he got her to do a tiktok with him, then she had a shot of tequila with Reuben. As Nat danced the woman hyped her up with Maya and she had a semi dance off with Javy. Throughout the night stories were told about meeting Princess Diana in 1995, playing in New York on New Year’s Eve of 1999, the Super Bowl, and their iconic performance at the first MTV video music awards in 1984. They were like children gathered by the Christmas tree listening to her read a book. All they could think was how cool she was and the fact the band had truly changed the world of music over their spand of 40 years.

Prince’s iconic ‘When Doves Cry’ started to play just before midnight and it was like slow motion for the rockstar, moving to her husband who was already staring at her with the same expression. Now they really were back in 1989.

“It does,” Mav beamed at his wife, the song hitting it’s second verse. “Only thing missing are the cameras flashing, Ice and Slider sending me a thumbs up, and jealous looks from patrons.” His words make her giggle, throwing her head back slightly.

“Ice is definitely giving you a thumbs up with Goose,” her voice turns soft, stroking the side of his neck, “Bradley’s got his phone out. No doubt videoing us as I speak. He knows how significant this song is.”

“Remind me to have him send me it,” he tells her, dipping her suddenly causing her to squeal. Lips press to her cheek when he pulls her back up.

“Wanna know something though, hot stuff?”

“What?”

The light hitting her eyes shows off the mischief matching her smirk, “This time ‘round, you won’t just be getting a kiss goodnight. You actually get to take me home.” Thank god the lighting hid the color of his face, otherwise she would get a good look at how red it was.

It didn’t stop her from seeing the smile however, Mav shaking his head playfully. He didn’t have to reply for her to know what he was thinking. Just his laugh was enough.

As the clock stuck midnight, Y/n brought him into a sweet kiss, “Happy Birthday, Pete. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, baby. Thank you.”

The rest of the night was filled with celebration, not just for the epic end of the tour and impending induction as Rock ‘N’ Roll hall of famers, but also the life of the Navy’s most famous pilot. Until it came time to leave, not a single minute was wasted in having the best night of their lives.

All of which happened because two souls decided to go to the same bar after a concert. One a spectator, the other the performer. Both who made names of themselves in their own right, embedding their legacy forever for generations to come. It took a hell of a time to do it, but as one knows….it’s a long way to the top you wanna rock ‘n’ roll.

……………………

TGM tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan, @caitsymichelle13, @poppyalice2001, @cutelittlepotatofry

[roosterbruiser]

Going back home with Bob and him showing you his hometown and meeting his family 🫶

(lt-natrace on main❤️)

𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲, 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲

𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐛 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐝 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞

When you met Bob for the first time, he was achingly perfect. You were at the farmer's market, which you frequented when the weather was nice enough, and happened to stop by the same local honey booth at the same time.

You noticed him immediately: the hunk in the old Temple University sweatshirt with the muscular legs straining against the cool blue denim shorts he was wearing. His hair was soft, but well-kept and his face was cleanly shaven. You knew, just from looking at him, that he took good care of himself. You liked that in an adult man and had found out, the hard way, that it was not a very common trait in the pointless circle of men you sometimes dated.

The two of you reached for the last jar of lavender-infused honey at the same time. His fingers pressing down on the back of your hand elicited a strange sort of physical response from you--usually, you'd jolt away after touching a strange man. But you wanted to lean into that touch, even if it was minuscule, even if it was minute.

But he retracted, eyes wide behind his wire frames.

"Oh, excuse me, ma'am! I apologize," he said instantly, cheeks pink.

You smiled at him, biting your lip.

"What are you sorry for?" You asked, letting your fingers slip off the jar of honey.

The wind was billowing softly, pulling the scent of the peonies from the next stand over to your nose and parted lips. Bob was blushing something fierce, squinting down at you beneath the harsh gaze of the sun, stammering softly.

"Well, I suppose I was making an attempt at that honey of yours," he says, laughing softly.

It makes you laugh--the two of you reached the honey at the same time, fair and square. The only thing he was guilty of was not bringing a hat or sunglasses out and about on a Saturday morning in San Diego. But he was so endearing, already willing to give you the last jar of honey despite your stranger-status.

He was smiling down at you, too tall for his own good, thin lips pink and soft. His eyes were the color of the sky just above him, so deep and so clear that you felt like you could suspend yourself in them. Honestly, you were having a hard time breathing as he gazed down at you, but in a delicious manner.

"You can have it," you say softly, smiling up at him. "I like the vanilla honey just as much."

Honestly, you don't like the vanilla honey just as much. In fact, the lavender honey was the highlight of your week. You kept having to purchase it every week because you ate it in copious amounts. You couldn't help yourself--it was that good.

But this guy's cute. And he tried to give you the honey already. His face is sweet and his smile is giving you heart palpitations. You think, without even really knowing why or how, that he deserves the honey. It's just an innate feeling that's sitting in your chest heavily.

"You're sure?" He asked softly, perching a brow questioningly.

You nodded, smiling up at him.

"Aren't I always?" You tease like you're old friends.

He grins, chuckling. And then he reaches for the honey and gives you a nod.

"Thanks for this," he says, gesturing to the honey. "I don't think I caught your name?"

You say your name, your heart fluttering when it falls off his lips.

"I'm Bob," he introduces, nodding politely again.

"Pleasure to have my honey stolen by you, Bob," you teased, wrinkling your nose adorably.

He laughed--it was a good sound, one that sounded natural among the calling seagulls and chattering people and live music playing down the street. It just sounded like it belonged there.

"Trust me, the pleasure's been all mine," he grinned at you.

Then you laughed--and Bob nearly doubled over at the sudden bout of butterflies in his belly. Remain calm, Bob. You literally don't even know her.

A soft lull fell over the two of you, both of you trying hard not to let your eyes wash over each other's faces. But there was a distinct longing to continue being in each other's presences, one that you both felt was suddenly intrinsic to you.

But Bob finally cleared his throat and nodded.

"Hope to see you around."

When he said your name again, the skin on the back of your neck prickled. It just sounded right falling out of his mouth.

"Yeah, I hope so, too."

You were a little disappointed that he didn't ask for your number before he wandered up to the register. Logically, you know it's silly. You literally don't even know the guy. But he was so cute and his cheeks were so pink and his lips were so soft looking that your heart felt a little swollen as you continued about the farmer's market, no honey in hand.

You did see each other around: ten minutes later at your favorite pickle stand. Bob fell in step beside you as you inspected a jar of half-sours, humming quietly to yourself.

You were startled, but grinning. He smiled down at you, cheeks pinker than they were before, breaths coming out in short puffs like he'd been hustling to find you (which he had).

"Hey," he breathed, shaking his head softly.

"Hey," you smiled softly. "Fancy seeing you here."

He laughed. God, you were funny. He liked that so much. He liked you so much. You in your pretty dress with your sunglasses on and your hair soft and sweet-smelling. He was an idiot for not asking for your number at the honey stand and had decided, not a moment after paying for the jar of honey you let him have, that he needed to step up and get your information. But you had been gone when he turned around--and not one jar of the vanilla honey had been taken. So, truth be told, he had hustled around trying to find you. And find you he did, your eyebrows furrowed as you inspected a jar of pickles, lips pursed.

And God, you looked fucking beautiful. He knew you were beautiful already. He had also noted you as soon as you'd wandered to the same booth. You had a faint smile on your lips and a little hum in your throat as you moved around wistfully, your hair billowing in the soft breeze. And just after your hands touched for the first time, he swore to God that he smelled flowers. Like some sort of weird fated thing. And to Bob, you looked just as beautiful looking at a jar of pickles than you did reaching for a jar of honey.

"Well, this isn't entirely serendipitous," he admitted, flushing again. He ran a hand through his hair, composing himself, trying to ignore how fucking perfect the color of your dress looked against your skin. "Had to track you down because you forgot..." Bob reaches into his tote bag and retrieves the fateful jar of lavender honey. "This," he finishes with a grin.

He put it in your hands before you even have a chance to tell him that it was his, he paid for it.

"I want you to have it," he told you with a sweet shrug. "But I was hoping that maybe I could buy you some lunch or something. You know, for all the trouble."

You were dithered entirely. God, he was fucking cute. And he had chased you down strictly to give you honey that he paid for and to offer to buy you food. A man after your own heart.

You're not sure what possessed you to do it. But you couldn't help yourself, watching him squint at the sun, his poor blue eyes straining against the brightness. You plucked your spare pair of sunglasses from your tote and slipped them over his eyes. And he's not sure what possessed him to let you, but he did. He didn't even mind that your sunglasses were ultra-feminine and layered on top of his prescription lenses.

And it softened the both of you entirely.

You grinned at each other.

"I could eat," you tell him, sinking your teeth into your lip.

And the rest was pretty much history.

Everything was easy with Bob. Like, really, everything was mind-numbingly easy. Everything clicked into place like it was a magnetized puzzle. You and Bob were a couple that prided themselves on their ability to successfully navigate stressful situations: moving houses, adopting an orphaned rabbit, deployments, IKEA.

What makes it so easy between the two of you is a deep and mutual love for each other. As crazy as you are about Bob, he's crazier for you tenfold. You just thoroughly and completely love each other.

So it's strange that you feel so entirely out of your element right now. You know deep down that everything is going to be just fine, but you're nervous to meet Bob's parents. I mean, the two of you have been together for nearly four years and between deployments and work and all the other shit in adult life, he hasn't found the time to take you back to his hometown.

It's something he's been meaning to do since the moment he asked you to be his girlfriend. He loved his family and considered them to be the most important people in his life, right up there beside you and Pook (your rabbit, obviously).

Bob couldn't be happier right now. His Suzuki is finally getting some dust on it as he drives down the familiar gravel roads leading to his family's farm, the sun is shining, you're sitting in his front seat, and he has an entire week off of work. This is Bob's version of bliss.

Your nerves are getting the best of you. You're usually calmed by Bob's presence alone and usually, you'd be totally open and honest about your nerves. But he's so happy right now--grinning and singing along to the radio, pointing out old stomping grounds, eyes sparkling with nostalgia. You don't want to put a damper on his mood.

So you sit quietly, fiddling with the hem of your dress, rolling the silky material between your fingers. There's a rapid pacing to your pulse right now and you're starting to sweat a little bit--but you're determined to suffer in silence.

You force yourself to take deep breaths when Bob turns down the long, winding drive that leads to the humble little farm house on the hill where he was brought up.

"Home sweet home," Bob sighs, squeezing your hand. He hasn't seemed to notice how clammy your palms are. "Can't wait for you to see my childhood bedroom, honey. It's basically a Star Wars museum."

Any other time, you would laugh. You would tease him. But you just barely manage to smile weakly. This Bob takes notice off immediately.

He squeezes your hand again, suddenly realizing the cold sweat slicking your fingers.

"What's going on, honey?"

You swallow hard, starting to shake your head, but he's peering at you with those earnest blue eyes and fuck--you've never been able to lie to him before. It's not going to start today.

"Just nervous is all," you say quietly, shrugging like it's no big deal.

But he knows you better than that. Of course he does--he's spent every single day of the last four years loving you better than anyone ever has in your life.

He nods, brows furrowing. He feels just a little bit like an asshole now, all giddy and carefree while you're sitting in the passenger seat in a cold sweat.

"I get that," he says earnestly, slowing the car down so you two have more time together, "but I promise that they're gonna love you. Like my mama is gonna be obsessed with you, honey. Promise."

Bob is just someone you always believe. He's never steered you wrong and you doubt he would start right now. You know that his family is going to be good people--how could Bob be such a well-rounded and perfect individual if he had not been raised by the cream of the crop? And Bob loves you so much that you're certain they're gonna have to love you at least a little bit.

"If you say so, Lieutenant," you sigh, sinking further into your seat.

He kisses your knuckles softly, letting his lips linger there as the car rolls to a stop in the driveway.

Your nerves boil over the moment you step over the threshold of his family home. You're overwhelmed for many reasons, the first being that Bob is carrying the luggage and has insisted that you walk into the house ahead of him (damn that gentleman). But you're also overwhelmed with affection and awe just looking at the sweet little farmhouse he grew up in, the one that still seems to stain all his laundry with that sugar-cookie scent.

"Mama, we're home!" Bob calls.

Your heart constricts as Bob lays the luggage down in the entryway and laces his arms around your waist.

And before you even really know what's happening, Bob's mom comes racing from the kitchen with a flowery apron on and flour in her hair, grinning the same grin as her son. And she's hugging you to her tightly like you're old friends, petting your hair, laughing and crying at the same time.

"Oh, sweetheart! It is so good to finally meet you! Bob's been talking our ears off about you for years! You're so beautiful! Can I get you anything? Water? Ice tea? A cookie? I think I have some leftover chicken and dumplings if you're hungry, honey! How as the drive?"

She's holding your biceps as she questions you, not taking a breath or pausing for you to answer even one of her questions. And that is oddly the moment that you know you're going to be okay. She hasn't seen her son in four years and she hugged you first--doing her damndest to make sure you're comfortable in her home.

"Breathe, mama," Bob chuckles, patting her shoulder. "Gonna give yourself an asthma attack!"

Bob's mama, who looks strikingly like Bob with her wavy hair and bright blue eyes and thin lips, just grins at Bob before pulling him into a hug, too.

And just seeing them hold each other, watching a mother love on her son that's been gone for far too long, it makes you feel warm and safe.

"We're so happy you're home," his mother tells him, shaking her head tearfully. "We've missed you so much!"

The rest of the night goes perfectly.

Every minute that you're there, you get more and more comfortable. Bob's mom could talk to a brick wall--she never runs out of questions to ask you and positively drinks in all your answers. She's pleasantly surprised and thoroughly impressed when you help her with the peach cobbler. Even Bob's dad, who is a quieter and meeker man, grows comfortable enough around you by dinnertime to play the harmonica for you around the bonfire.

Bob really comes alive when he's around his parents. No longer is he the shy and reserved man that nurses glasses of water in the corner of the bar--he's the light of their lives and he knows it. You've never seen him treated this way by anyone except you. There's a deep, deep comfort in knowing that you share this with his parents: Bob is your world and everything in it.

"You two love each other," his mother had remarked from across the fire, grinning widely.

Bob had blushed, teasingly rolling his eyes as he held your hand in his, your head resting on his shoulder.

"What gave it away?" You tease.

"Oh, I just like you so much, honey," his mother had said then, laughing. "You gotta come around more often!"

By the end of the first night there, just after two in the morning, you and Bob trudge up the creaky steps with smoke staining your hair and wine sloshing in your bellies.

"So?" Bob asks softly as he closes his bedroom door behind him, smiling as you take in all the endless Star Wars posters lining the walls. "What do you think?"

You're happy--the kind of happy that makes your cheeks ache. You're almost sad that you're only here for a week. This is the kind of place that you could stay forever, you think. All the old pictures and worn furniture and home-cooking--you love it. Being here feels like being the closest to Bob you've ever been and you want to stay in that feeling.

As you trace your fingers across a model of something called the Imperial Class Star Destroyer, you smile. There's not even a speck of dust on it--his mama cares enough to take care of the things he treasures.

"Mmm," you start, sitting on the edge of his twin bed with a tired smile. "I think I'm in love with your parents."

Bob laughs, coming forward to gently cup your cheeks. You lean into him, pressing your face into his smoky shirt, basking in the comfort his fingers invoke in your being as he carefully strokes your hair.

"And they love you right back," he whispers. "Knew they would, honey."

You hum, eyes fluttering shut.

"Let's stay forever," you yawn, cheeks flushed.

Bob's heart is so big right now that he thinks it might explode out of his body. He never thought this would happen ever--the girl of his dreams sitting in his nerdy bedroom and letting her fingernails gently graze the soft skin of his thighs as he holds her close. Quite frankly, he feels like the past four years have been an absolute daydream. But this--this is just perfect.

He says your name softly and you just hum in response, half-asleep sitting up.

"I'm so glad I stole that honey from you," he whispers.

You laugh. He holds you tighter.

"And I'm so glad you found me at the pickle stand."

here is my tag list!!

𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧, 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬! 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲, 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐛!

[bidisasterevankinard]

Fuck it friday

tagged by @tizniz @jesuisici33 @daffi-990 @diazsdimples @wikiangela thank you<333 I missed my crossover fic so I wrote a little today. he is Jake and Buck's dynamic I can't wait to explore more cause I already love it way to much

“Jake, I don’t know about it,” but before Buck can continue to think of the reason why he can’t come to San-Diego, Jake already speaks.

“Listen here, Buckley. We have tried to get together for the last four years after I was in LA for three days to congratulate you on ending your probation year. I literally now live in the city in 3 hours drive from LA. And you died six months ago before it happened,” Jake is silent for a second, but Buck hears how he takes deep breath to take himself back together. Hearing how his death affected even his friends out of LA make him bite his lip so as not to cry. Painful reminder he should keep trying harder on therapy, should try to get better to help his family heal too. “So I’m not asking. You are bringing your pretty ass to San-Diego. I might even help to heal your heart after the recent break up with what is her name?” 

“Natalia. And there’s nothing to heal,” Buck for a second considers if he should tell Jake the whole truth about the break up or not, but really he needs a friend and there is no one better to talk about Eddie because Jake is Buck’s only friend. Not Eddie’s found family too. “I broke up with her because I understood I’m in love with…” Buck takes a deep breath getting ready to say it for the first time to someone who is not Dr. Copeland, but Jake does it first.

“Eddie.” 

The way the name of his best friend so easily slips from Jake’s mouth leaves Buck speechless with just one question which he almost scream.

“H-HOW?!”

“You talk about the guy all the time. You raise his, no, not his, his and yours  son together. You talk about him like he put the sun, moon and stars in the sky. It was so easy,”Buck hears how Jake rolls his beautiful green eyes and he hopes the man feels how he shows him finger. “Do not show me finger, sweetheart. You know I’m right. I’m more shocked no one called you on this definitely not little crush on your hot bestie before me. And they see you two together.” 

“Like no one calls you on your homoerotic comments about Rooster? Or how now do you want dick measure with the man not in figurative but real meaning?” Buck smirks when he hears how Jake tries to say something to deny it, but fails.

“How?”

Grinning, Buck takes a deep breath and perfectly repeating Jack's intonation begins to quote.

“Oh, Buck, Rooster is so cocky I hate his guts. Oh, Buck, this man irritates me so much I want to send him on fire. Buck, I saved this asshole today and we shook hands and I think we are going to be friends soon. Sweetheart, you will not believe who asked me about beer in Hard Deck without the team. Fuck, Buck Rooster abs somehow better than mine and it’s… irritates me so much,” Buck laughs remembering how the last part was said more like I-want-to-fuck-him and not this-guy-is-hotter-than-me-and-I'm-jealous. Buck knows the difference too well. He was friends with it for a moment. “I always feel like you would jump his bones the next time you see the man.”

“Said you”

“Touche.”

tagging @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @exhuastedpigeon @eddiescowboy @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @evanbegins @rainbow-nerdss @rogerzsteven @the-likesofus @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @transboybuckley @underwater-ninja-13 @puppyboybuckley @paranoidbean @anakinfallen @spaceprincessem @spotsandsocks @spagheddiediaz @devirnis @fortheloveofbuddie @gaydiaz @giddyupbuck @heartshapedvows @hoodie-buck @jeeyuns @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @caroandcats @cowboybuckleys @bigfootsmom @bekkachaos @buddierights @mandzuking17 @monsterrae1 @malewifediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @hippolotamus and anyone who wants