#bradley home furnishings

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Handle With Care - Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: Reader and Aaron meet for the first time before she starts as a full-time nanny for Jack.

Notes: Hopefully will be at least 5 parts! I'm excited to be writing again :)

Word Count: 4.6K

I always believed in new beginnings, but as I stood on Aaron’s doorstep, rolling a suitcase in one hand and a Vera Bradley duffel bag in the other, I was tempted to question my resolute thinking. It had yet to fail me. Not when I was hardly eighteen and living on the other side of the country, vying for my spot at the esteemed culinary arts program. And not when I’m twenty-four with a stint as the private chef

Professional chef turned nanny–for my father’s beloved mentee, no less. My parents, ever supportive and ever loving, practically held an intervention when I showed up on their suburban door step a fractured shell of the bubbly daughter they dropped off at the airport. 

Five years later, I’m sleeping in the same bed. I had nightmares about leaving once again. And yesterday I gave up that bed for a full-time position as Aaron Hotchner’s live-in nanny. Aaron, who I never even met, is my father’s protege. He knew him as a whip-smart, young lawyer from a family Law dynasty at Quantico. My father took him under his wing and even after his early retirement from the BAU they would get together for an annual work lunch. 

I was nearly finished with my final year of the Los Angeles Culinary Arts Program when my fathers called to say that Aaron’s wife was murdered. I remembered thinking how lucky Dad was and how brave Daddy had to be. With one day off saving the world and the other left to hold down the fort with an awfully anxious only child daughter. 

One year later, I was unemployed and completely blacklisted from the culinary entertainment industry for reasons beyond my control and without my fault. I gripped the suitcase, my chipped fingernails so jagged they punctured my skin. 

Aaron had a nice house with a manicured front lawn, a big wrap around porch, and a fully furnished backyard. Clearly, he was a man with a lot of education and a lot of smarts to top it off. He worked hard. It showed, these neighborhoods of Arlington, Virginia weren’t cheap. No wonder my dads were dying to relocate to Georgia. 

The door swung open before I could work up the courage to ring the bell or knock on the dark cherry wood. Aaron answered. He wore a dark green men’s quarter zip that was pushed up, showing off his forearms. His dark, charcoal gray watch shone as he let me into his foyer. 

He had a foyer.

And a house that smelt like warm cinnamon and musk. 

“Y/N,” Aaron said, nodding to me with a smile, “Please give me your bags. And we’ll go sit and chat before Jack comes. His grandma is still in town and brought him to the zoo.” 

I complied. There wasn’t a need for me to protest. And clearly, by the looks of those forearms, he would have no problem handling my bags. I only brought a single suitcase, a duffel, and five boxes of books. Aaron’s mother-in-law, Lorriane, had been staying with them since Haley died a year and a half ago. But her husband broke his hip. Apparently, Aaron had added a mother-in-law suite for Lorriane and judging by the looks of his home, the suite I’d be living in for the foreseeable future was twice the size of my studio in LA. 

“Thanks.” I said, grabbing a seat on the brown fabric sofa, “My dad said I had to say hello to you for him. He still raves about you. Like all the time.” I chuckle, watching as Aaron hands me a glass of iced tea. 

“Marty’s a good man. He and Gideon built the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Our team is in constant debt to him.” Aaron spoke so formally, gesturing for enthusiasm with his hands. 

“Yeah, well. He’s always just been dad to me.” I smiled, the man I knew showed up to my field hockey games even if it meant holding office hours there. He was the most there dad I could ask for– maybe it was neck in neck for the both of them. 

“So Jack?” I said, breaking the silence. “How–how’s he been?” I couldn’t help but wonder. My dads had a close friend who helped them with their surrogacy journey, so while I didn’t have a mother in the traditional sense, the woman who I’ m half of  was still alive and in my life. Debra was more like an aunt to me, fun and spirited and eternally youthful. But I still had her. 

Unlike Jack, who’s Earthly ties to his mother were shredded in an horribly violent way. 

My dad hardly ever cried, but when he called and told me that Aaron’s wife died I could hear it in his raw voice. Aaron’s a man cut from the same cloth a Dad; stoic and responsible. He was a wall of somber trepidation, but somewhere deep inside I could make out the man that wasn’t cataclysmically destroyed. 

“Jack is…he’s a strong kid. I put him in therapy after it happened. He still goes once a week. Laura, she’s his therapist. She’s wonderful. Truly has helped Jack work through all this.”

“That’s good. That’s really good, Mr. Hotchner. It seems as though Jack has a solid foundation here.” I say, unsure what to say exactly. I can make an omelet six different ways, yet it’s lost on me to know what to say to a widower with a little boy. If I had to bear even a fraction of their grief, I’m sure it would break me. I would crumble. But these two boys? They’re a good man in the storm. And I know in my bones, it’s entirely Aaron’s doing. If that man is anything, he’s steady. 

“It’s Aaron. Please, Mr. Hotchner reminds me of my father.” He cringes, the lines on his eyes creasing, “Your dad said you’re a professionally trained chef? Unfortunately, Jack’s still squarely in the dinosaur shaped chicken nugget and baked tater tots phase. It’s been a struggle to get him to try anything new…for…for awhile now, if I’m being honest.” 

I nod, thinking that Jack’s food discouragement might stem from losing his mom. “Well, the way I see it, Jack lost his mom at how old? Four and half? That’s when we’re starting to really know what we like and don’t like to eat. His life was turned upside down and shaken all around when you lost her. So maybe he needed some consistency in a world of chaos. Not that your home is chaotic, it’s lovely and clean and happy. It’s just…loss…”

“Losing your mother as a toddler really fucks up your life.” Aaron says. He speaks so definitely, as if he means everything so ardently you could cast it into stone. 

“Yeah.” I add, somberly. “But I think we can get him to branch out. Make it a game. I’d love to cook with him. I can get him kid-safe tools so he can be involved in food preparation and cooking. Oh! Maybe Jack and I can have a garden. I’m sure that will get him eating vegetables and fruits.” 

Aaron’s neutral expression slowly transitions to a soft smile. He thumps his fingers on the wooden table, as he looks out through the deck. I could feel him glance back at me and then to the yard again. 

“I think that a garden would be lovely over on the side. It’s far enough away from the pool and patio.” Aaron offers, sipping his tea. It’s sweet tea, too sweet for me. Working in kitchens throughout my program has trained me to not only tolerate black coffee, but to actively seek it out. He smiles, his grin defining his face. “Good idea.” 

I feel heat at his praise. I like doing well, who doesn't? But after a series of mishaps and bad luck, an 'atta' girl is my Hail Mary of the month. I simply nod. “Simple things to start so he can see some quick results. I’ll get him super involved in it. Make him feel like he’s a part of a team.” 

“I work a lot. My team flies across the nation, as you know. It takes me away from here for days on end. It was getting too much for Lorriane. And how her husband broke his hip.” Aaron shakes his head, “Honestly, you couldn’t have shown up here at a better time.” 

He runs his pointer finger over the water rung pooled on the coasters. “Jack’s a very easy kid. Reasonable. But shy. He was shy even before Haley…even before last year. I’ve brought him to the pediatrician because he stopped talking for a while, but she said that we’ve all survived an immense trauma and our brains simply process and live through that trauma differently.”

Sitting there, I couldn’t help but think how lucky this little boy is. His dad was running up the hill; pushing that boulder up and up and up for an eternity. It must be an awfully lot to carry, without anyone to share the load. 

“Yeah. I’m sure it is? Is he going into Kindergarten after the summer?” I ask, wondering if Jack went to Kindergarten on time or if Aaron and his grandma kept him home when they lost Haley. 

“Lori, Haley’s mother, taught preschool for thirty-five years. She told me to keep him home for a year, let him be a little bit older and get the help he needs to heal and then send him. So I listened. I think that was one of the only decisions I made as a team this year.” 

Sympathy must have colored my face because Aaron’s demeanor shifted quickly. He sat up, sipping his iced tea and wiping his hands on his jeans. “So basically your weekdays are around 8am-7:30pm. And occasionally on the weekends when the team does have to be on location But recently, I’ve been trying to transition to a more leadership position at headquarters. Hopefully, that’ll mean less traveling.” 

I quickly journaled the hours down in my notebook. Live-in nannying hours are not for those looking for a job to allow them the life of leisure. Naturally that couldn’t possibly be true for a position whose main coworker is a five and a half year old boy. 

“Alright. So that’s summer hours. We’ll need to brainstorm lots of stuff to do all day. Maybe the library?” I write a small note to get ideas and have them approved by Aaron.

He nodded, “Yes, summer hours are a lot, but Jack will be going to a couple camps that his therapist recommended. So you can get a couple hours each day to yourself. I am ready to compensate accordingly. Between my new role at the BAU and other personal investments, we live comfortably. How’s $2,500 to start and then we’ll discuss a raise in the future. And naturally your room and anything you may want to eat or have will be covered by me.” Aaron says it again in a way that leaves no room for argument. He must’ve been a great lawyer; no wonder dad adores him. 

“That’s quite a lot of money.” I’m shocked and my face does a horrible job of hiding it. “I’m not a professional nanny. I’m good with kids. Really good. But I don’t do this for a living. This is you doing me a favor because if it wasn’t for you, I’d be a waitress at my dads’ country clubs” I cringed, my mind instantly filtering in an image of me serving one-time sorority sisters bottomless mimosas for an Easter Brunch. 

“I apologize if you though that it was up for discussion, Y/N. Your first month’s pay will be $2,500 each week. And then it will increase to $3,250 each week. If I’m asking you to work 13 hour days plus one weekend a month? I better be paying you that much. And you’re still on Marty’s health insurance?” 

I rolled my eyes, of course dad mentioned that to Aaron and of course Aaron double checked. Aaron just might have Marty, JD beat when it comes to thoroughness. “Yeah, till I’m 26. And that’s like…a year and change away.” I say, implying that it’s not up to me, or Aaron even, to know how long I’ll be with him. I wasn’t sure if I would ever venture out to LA again; not after what happened that sent me back here for good.

But the thing about food is that everyone wants good food, no matter where they live. And right now, the ones that wanted something good in their lives, lived in a lovely Colonial home on Moss Avenue. 

“I guess there’s no arguing with you, prosecutor.” I say, my voice increasing just so that it balances the line between teasing and something else…something else I should be too ashamed to admit. 

It elicited a smile from him and all of the sudden it was completely worth it. Aaron finishes his tea, and places it into the sink after dumping the remaining ice chips down the drain. 

“Non-negotiable. It’s in your contract. Along with a health insurance package should you need to go off Marty’s name. Plus all that tax information that I’ll get you someone to walk you through it.” Aaron explained. 

“Thank you.” I replied, grateful that it was both all above the table and that I would be given the resources to help me figure it out. Looking at the pile of paperwork in my lap, I was sure that if Aaron didn’t offer legal literacy assistance I would be way in over my head. “That’s wonderful. Really.” 

“I just…I just want my son to be a good kid with a good childhood. That’s all. I want to be there for him and if I’m not there, I want the next best thing there. You know?” Aaron said and I’m not sure if it’s a plea or statement. Or if it was stuck somewhere in the middle; lost at sea like Aaron was himself. An island unto himself, drifting as the tide rolled in. 

I break the silence. “What was Haley’s favorite meal?” 

Aaron smiled. His eyes, crinkling again. “She had chicken piccata on our first date. And we ate it at our wedding. And when she found out she was pregnant with Jack she made it for me.” I nodded, understanding the important link between food and memories. 

“Let’s make it. For Jack and you and Lorianne to share tonight before she leaves. It’s going to be a big transition for him to go from having grandma all the time to me, someone very new.” I expressed, hoping that I didn’t sound bossy or as if I wanted to parent Jack myself. 

“That’s a lovely idea, Y/N.” Aaron sighed. “But I never was much of a chef. I wouldn’t know the first place to start.” 

He leaned his hands against the table, a slight smile breaking the formidable since that had fallen between us in the moments before. I smiled back, standing from the table to reach my tote bag. 

I pulled out an apron, the kind that criss crossed over my back. It was denim blue with a canvas front and large pockets. 

“Move over,” I said, tying my apron, “It might be your kitchen, Aaron, but for tonight you’re kicked out” 

The chicken ended up being more chicken piccata adjacent than a true representation of the dish. I mixed a seasoned blend of flour and spices for the dredging. Then, butterflied and pounded the chicken breasts into thin pieces. 

Aaron’s kitchen was spacious and airy. There was a large island with barstools on one side and lots of pantry and cupboard space on the other. I stood at the island, dredging the chicken in seasoned flour before placing it nearly on paper towel lined trays. The chicken, thinned and butterflied, didn’t take long to cook in the oil and butter. 

I let the skillet heat up till the oil, butter, garlic, and capers produced a mouthwatering aroma. Aaron gave me a bottle of white wine, imperative to make the sauce taste even better. I added freshly squeezed lemon juice and lemon slices to the pan sauce, letting the brown bits cook a little bit more. I scraped the edges of the skillet, incorporating the sauce even more. 

I placed the chicken back into the pan, letting it absorb the lemony, garlicky flavor of the sauce. The sauce thickened, forming something that was similar enough to chicken piccata. I added a bit more butter to the pan, along with some lemon. I figured that it would stretch a little bit more for some sauce for the pasta on the side. 

The chicken was simmering in the pan and the pasta water nearly boiling, when Jack came home. He looked like his father, but must have gotten his lighter colored hair and eyes from his mother. 

Aaron walked into the kitchen with Jack, his hands resting on Jack’s shoulders protectively. Jack’s shy demeanor was evident as he peered over at me. I smiled and waved as I finished the pasta. 

“Jackie, this is Ms. Y/N.” Aaron introduced me to the young boy, who stood shyly by his father. “We talked about how Grandma Lorraine needs to go back home. And we’re gonna have a friend come and live here.” 

Jack nodded, his little mind clearly spinning and spinning to make sense of all this. He was clearly well adjusted, even for losing his mother at such a young age. 

“Hey, there Jack!” I smiled. “I made a good dinner for you and your dad. I heard you went to the zoo with Grandma. I love the zoo. Especially the tigers.” 

Jack nodded, eagerly walking around the kitchen island to talk about the zoo. “Yeah,” he said, “I liked the monkeys. They were funny. The babies were learning to climb and jump.” 

I nodded, plating up some food for Jack. “Super cool. They’re kinda like little people. The way they act and play.” I placed the plate on the counter. “I used the Cars plate. It was way too cool not to.” I crouched down and whispered to Jack, “Just make sure your dad doesn’t swipe it. Between you and me I can see him eying it from here.” 

Aaron chuckled, reaching high to grab not one, but two plates. He handed one to me before telling Jack to go sit for dinner. “You’re joining us. It’ll be good for us to get to know one another.” 

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“Nothing you do would be an intrusion. And it’s good for Jack to see that we’re friends. He’ll be more trusting of you.” 

I nodded, understanding that it was very important for Jack to become used to me. Especially considering Aaron’s job could take him away for days at a time. 

“Alright.” 

Aaron nodded. “Sit. I’ll get your plate.” 

There was an understanding that washed over me. An understanding that Aaron was the kind of man that didn’t ask for things. He was simply used to things he wanted being carried out. I envied that security. Maybe if I had even an ounce of it I would still be hacking it out in LA. Or maybe I wouldn’t have needed to figure it out because I would’ve figured it out already. 

Jack and Aaron went back and forth, swapping facts about dinosaurs. Jack was squarely in the dinosaur phase. Five minutes in, and I already had promised to help him find a dinosaur coloring book, with dinosaurs besides just the “cool ones”. 

“Uncle Spencer says that some dinosaurs had heads as big as a car!” Jack said, practically shrieking with excitement as he recounted all the facts a certain Uncle Spencer had told him. 

“Uncle Spencer’s so smart. And he’s a kid!” Several of Jack’s stories started with the aforementioned Uncle Spencer and I couldn’t help but wonder where the connection lay. Especially if, like Jack claimed, Spencer was a child. Sometimes some cousins are so far apart in age they’re more like an aunt or an uncle. Perhaps this was the case.

“Spencer is on my team.” My face must have shown my confusion. I always wore my emotions and thoughts on my sleeves, something that failed me several times over. Most notably when my friends in LA would get hit on by men at bars in the most vile of ways. One of the blessings of being deemed unapproachable by men was being left alone, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t burdened by their lack of tact in seducing women. “And he’s 28…yes about 28 now, and has been on the team since he was 23. He’s brilliant. Jason Gideon, who worked with Martin, scouted him when he was hardly 21. His mind works in ways that are simply unexplainable.” 

“Which means he must have some pretty sick dino facts?” I ask, my question causing a prickly smile to appear on Aaron’s face. Jack giggles, he must enjoy seeing his father smile. It seems that even though the boys find themselves moving alone, smiles are few and far between. Especially from the elder Hotchner. 

“And three phDs.” Aaron cut the rest of Jack’s chicken, sliding his plate over and reminding him to at least try the vegetables. “It’s like these kids are getting younger as fast as they are getting smarter. Sometimes I just look at Spencer and my knees hurt. Then again, I’m pretty sure I would beat him in anything athletic. Even though he’s much younger.” 

I raised my brow instinctively, smiling. “Was that a joke?” I deadpanned. “My dad said you made two jokes the entire time he knew you. And the first was…”

I stopped myself short. But it was far too late. Aaron, like myself and my father, knew when the first joke he made to my father was. His wedding day. My father had long retired, and moved his mind and soul far, far away from the BAU. He trusted Aaron and Gideon to handle it. Instead he decided to live as himself, freely with his husband and their daughter in the suburbs.

If there was one thing that I shouldn’t have done the first night working with a nanny family consisting of a widower and his son, it was to bring up the marriage of the widower. 

When Aaron married his late wife, Haley. My fathers attended, but I didn’t even remember. It must’ve been one of those times that Nana would sleepover. I remembered it was painting nails, ordering Chinese, and watching Walker, Texas Ranger and Family Feud. I remembered it as falling asleep to my Nana’s snoring as Home Shopping Club glowed on her ancient TV set and waking up to her chocolate chip pancakes. My father remembers it was the first time his young protege made a joke. And Aaron remembers it was the day he married the love of his life. 

“Daddy?” Jack said, cutting through the silence, “I don’t like veggies. They’re too mushy.” 

“Don’t eat them, bud.” Aaron, murmured, his voice laced with a guard that I hadn’t noticed till now. It was careful, like he crafted each tone and cadence before he spoke. “We’ll figure it out, Jack. Come on, let’s show Ms. Y/N her room. Where she’ll be staying.” 

Each sentence is clipped and calculated. I nod, smiling as Jack stands next to his father. 

“I’ll clean up.” 

Aaron nodded, thanking me as he took Jack up to get ready for bed. Minutes later, the kitchen was back to normal and a couple extra meals were packed away for leftovers. I left a note on the counter for Aaron in the morning. 

Lunch is in the fridge.

I always like to make extras! 

Have a nice day

Y/N

Aaron returned, without Jack. “You didn’t have to do the whole kitchen. I don’t expect that. This isn’t a housekeeping job, it’s taking care of Jack.” 

“I don’t mind. Being a chef…or I was a chef, as much as a pain in the ass cleaning and dishes can be sometimes it’s a good way to finish it all. I don’t know…I don’t make sense.” I chuckled, trailing off in a rambly way that fully gave away my nerves. My previous blunder had shaken me, especially since Aaron seemed completely unnerved, even though I knew it stung.

“I suppose, sometimes I used to stay late to do all the paperwork, even though the interns usually will do it for us.” Aaron wipped his hands on his pants.“Anyway, let me show you to the room. I had it cleaned over the weekend and put Lorianne up at a hotel for a couple nights so there wouldn’t be any issues or crossover.”

Aaron led me through the rest of the house. It was neat and tidy and I didn’t expect anything else from someone like Aaron, even though he does have a young, energetic son. There was just something meticulous about him. Something so put together and careful. And then there was me. Messy and complicated and unsure and terrified. Anyone would be that after having the carpet pulled out from under them. And I couldn’t name a bigger carpet than having to bury your life. 

There was a locked door that led to what Aaron explained as my private area. “Jack and I won’t come over here. From the time that I get home in the evenings, or frankly, some days, till I leave in the mornings is your own. This is your spot in the house, but my housekeepers that come twice a month will clean in here, if you’d like.” 

I nodded, grateful for that added bonus. The small attachment was the size of a studio apartment. There was a kitchenette with a nook tucked into the corner with the windows. The furniture matched the rest of the house, clearly Aaron had spared no expense to add this attachment. The queen sized bed was pushed up against the wall and nestled into the corner. Next to it was a nightstand with a lamp. And, as I turned the corner, was the crowning jewel. 

“Are those built–ins?” I asked, staring in disbelief. “Those are so gorgeous. I have like, easy, a ton, of books. God! Can I use them?” I turned, practically jumping from joy as Aaron chuckled reluctantly. 

“Of course. This room’s yours.” Aaron must’ve carried my bags into the bedroom while I was cooking because all of my belongings sat on the floor near the set of love seats and armchair. “I’ll leave you to get settled. 8:30 okay for tomorrow?” 

I nodded, stunned beyond belief as I opened my boxes of books. Aaron handed me a set of keys, one to the house, the shed, and the other to my area of the house. 

“You’re the only one that has a copy. If you want others made, I’ll cover the expense.” Aaron explained. “Have a good night, Y/N.” 

“Good night,” I replied, hooking the keys onto my set. “And thank you for this room. It’s nicer than my apartment in LA.” 

Aaron leaned against the doorframe, “Of course, I think Jack'll be very happy. It’s been hard to trust others. With him, honestly…Jack’s all I got left.” I had known Aaron for about three hours, heard stories of his skill and professionalism and talent for years, but he wasn’t someone that I had known, let alone even met. But in those three hours, I could count several times where I saw a sliver of emotions.

“I’ll leave you to it.” 

“Night.” 

“And Y/N?” Aaron said, stopping me as I reach down to start shelving books, “Food does hold memories. You’re right. I needed it. We did. Jack and I. He needs to remember her.” 

“Food has memories.” I said, shrugging, “You’re gonna have to learn I know more than you think I do.”

Taglist

@reidsbookclub @boldlyvoid @pear-1206 @this-is-calm-and-its-anne @little-jana @pastelpinkflowerlife @sarcasm-and-stiles @ilovefictionalmennn

[roosterforme]

Batting Practice Part 27 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Moving in with you and Everett was the most natural thing Bradley could have done. He felt loved and comfortable, and he hoped the two of you felt the same. But it took a night out drinking at the Hard Deck for you to mention some things that Bradley would have preferred you told him when you were sober.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst and swearing

Length: 4900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

"Do you even own anything?" you asked, looking around Bradley's beige apartment. There was a stack of about ten moving boxes, two tubs of baseball cards, and some laundry baskets of clothing. "This is alarming. I'm marrying a man who doesn't own anything."

Bradley rolled his eyes at you. "I tried to tell you we didn't need Molly and Bob to come help. I could have done this with Everett." He had explained to you that his apartment came fully furnished and he had claimed that he didn't own much. But this was next level.

"Listen, Kitten," he added, wrapping his arms around you while Everett tossed Bradley's baseball caps into one of the laundry baskets. "I haven't really had a home since I was in high school. Barracks and fully furnished apartments were it." Your heart melted as he added, "Thanks for inviting me to live in your home."

"It's about to become yours, too. You can do whatever will make you happy and comfortable."

Just then Molly and Bob showed up, and Bradley's eyes lit up. "Everett!" he shouted. "We're getting a Phillies room!"

"What?" you sputtered, laughing at his excitement. "I didn't say-"

"A Phillies room!" Ev chanted, pumping his fists in the air.

"Shit," you whispered as Molly came up behind you and gave you a hug.

"This is it?" Bob asked, looking around at Bradley's stuff. "You needed my truck for five boxes?"

Bradley shrugged. "I tried to tell her not to bother calling you. Actually," he said, turning toward the refrigerator, "can you help me finish these beers?" He opened four bottles and handed two of them to Bob.

"Ladies?" Bob asked, but you both shook your heads. 

You and Molly dropped down onto the couch together while the three boys messed around in the kitchen, talking about this theoretical Phillies room. She looked a little worried, and you didn't like the way she had been chewing on her fingernails. "What's wrong?" you asked her softly. 

"Nothing," she replied immediately with a smile so fake, you were shocked she even tried it on you.

"Maybe Bob still believes that smile is genuine, but I know better. Tell me what's up."

She sighed and stretched out on your lap. "I'm so tired from work. I don't like the one douchebag doctor who works day shifts. He keeps giving me a hard time."

Your skin started to prickle. "What did he do? Did you tell Bob?"

"Yeah," she groaned, closing her eyes as you rubbed her shoulder. "I told Bob. The doctor just hates me and acts like I'm incompetent. No biggie. I know I do a good job."

It was a fight to calm your breathing down. "You actually save people's lives before the doctor even shows up in the room."

"See? You get it," she mumbled, and then she fell asleep while the guys loaded the Bronco and Bob's truck with Bradley's meager belongings. 

She slept until it was time for Bradley to lock his door one last time, and then she stood to use the bathroom. You popped up and pulled Bob into the completely empty bedroom, but before you could say anything, he was talking.

"Is Molly mad at me?" he asked softly, his eyes sad and searching yours. 

"Oh, Bob," you gasped, reaching for his hand. "I don't think so. But she seems a little stressed out, doesn't she?"

He shrugged helplessly. "She keeps telling me it's because of work, but... I'm afraid she's been so quiet because she's tired of me."

You gasped. "No!" you whispered in a harsh voice. "She loves you!"

But he just looked at the floor and held tight to your hand until Bradley walked in and asked, "Ready to go?" If Bradley thought it was strange that you and Bob were holding hands and that you hugged him so tight he groaned, he didn't say anything.

"You'll tell me if she says anything to you?" Bob asked quietly as you and he followed Bradley out to the living room.

"Of course," you replied. But when Molly came out of the bathroom, she went right for Bob's arms, and they both looked immediately happier. They were fine. They had to be fine.

"Mommy? Can I ride in Bob's truck?" Everett asked, and Bradley looked scandalized.

"I thought you liked the Bronco!" he said, tossing his hands in the air in exasperation. 

"I do, Dad! But I wanted to see the truck, too!" You pressed your lips together as Bradley scooped Everett into his arms and kissed him.

"Okay, but you can't end up liking it as much as the Bronco, alright?" he asked, ushering everyone out of the apartment.

"I won't," Everett promised, and Bradley carried him down the stairs and out to the parking lot. Then he switched Everett's booster seat to the second row of Bob's pickup truck and helped him get buckled. 

When you and he were finally alone in the Bronco, you asked, "Going for dad of the year?"

He looked smug as he kissed you and said, "I'm already Coach of the year and fiancé of the year. I'm going for broke. Plus Bob drives like an elderly person. Ev will be so bored."

You laughed as he pulled out onto the main road and headed toward your house. His house too, now. "I was thinking about... changing my last name when we get married," you told him as he changed lanes.

"Yeah?" he asked, glancing at you with eager eyes as he drove. "Really?"

You groaned. "I still have Danny's last name, so I think I'd like to change it to Bradshaw if that's okay with you."

He reached for your hand immediately. "Hell yes! It's more than okay with me, Kitten! I just didn't want you to think I'd be upset if you didn't."

You wanted to say something about Everett. You really wanted to tell him about Danny and the child support and the fact that the papers had been served. But you just couldn't. Not right now. Because he was parking a little crookedly in the driveway and reaching for you, and you were in his arms and his lips were on yours.

You were moaning with his hand up your shirt and underneath your bra when you heard Bob's truck.

"Told you he drives slow," Bradley grunted. "Could have fucked you real quick before they got here."

You burst into laughter as you climbed out of the Bronco and went to get Everett. When he bounded toward Bradley, you heard him whisper, "It was fun, but not as fun as the Bronco."

Bradley tousled his hair and said, "I knew you wouldn't let me down."

Then you and Molly sat on the porch steps with some cookies while the guys did all the work. 

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

A few days later, Bradley was waiting next to Bob in their matching Navy Waves uniforms. The first game of their season was about to start, but none of their promised spectators were there yet. "Did Molly get hung up at work?" Bradley asked him, checking the time again on his phone. 

Bob sighed and tipped his head back. "I don't know, Rooster." He looked miserable. "I guess. Maybe."

"Well, did you text her?"

"Yeah. She didn't respond."

Bradley paused for a moment. "Is everything okay?"

"I don't know," Bob sighed, running his hand over his mouth. But then Bradley saw you and Molly running from the parking lot with Everett leading the way.

"There they are!" Bradley said, lightly hitting Bob's arm before he headed toward Everett.

"Bradley! We got stuck in traffic!" Everett said, running into his hug. Bradley, Coach, Dad... he liked it when Everett called him any of those things. 

"We were missing you," Bradley replied, kissing the top of his head as you hustled up next. 

"Good luck!" you told him, kissing him softly as you were out of breath. Then Bradley realized that all three of you were wearing matching white and navy blue shirts. He looked at the back of Molly's as she headed toward Bob, and he noticed that it said Floyd along with the number 30 on it.

When he spun Everett around in his arms, he laughed. "Bradshaw shirts? I love it!" Then you turned for him as well, and he got such a lovely view of your ass in your denim shorts along with his name on your back. He'd be taking all of that clothing off you later.

"Go," you told him, turning back around and pushing him toward the dugout. "The game is about to start!"

Bradley collected Bob from Molly and dragged him down to the field for the game against the Army Rockets. Bob seemed to have perked up a bit, and after the national anthem was played, Bradley took to the pitcher's mound. 

After he struck out the first three batters in a row, he stood there, shocked. "Hell yeah, Bradshaw!" the left fielder said, as they switched to offense. Bradley batted fifth, and the Navy Waves managed to score one run. 

And the whole time, Bradley could hear Everett shouting for him. When he looked up into the stands, you waved to him. Every single time. He could even see the light catch your ring. "Fuck," he groaned, trying to stay focused on the game. But he was so in love with you now. He loved living at your house and using all your cool body washes in the shower. He loved the way you woke him up with kisses in the morning. He loved tucking Everett in at night. He loved making pancakes in your kitchen.

You were the best kind of distraction. As the game progressed, he kept pitching pretty well. By the last inning, The Waves were up by five runs, and even though Bradley was tired, he told the coaches he'd be able to finish the game. 

When he struck out the last batter in the ninth inning, Bradley heard Everett screaming over the rest of the fans. And he made sure to collect one of the game balls to take home.

"Good game!" Bob told him, gathering up his gear as he kept glancing over his shoulder at Molly like he was afraid she was going to vanish. 

"You too. Nice double play," Bradley replied, following him up into the bleachers. 

"I've never felt more patriotic than I do right now," Molly said with a laugh. "A military themed baseball game. Americana at its finest."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Bradley replied with a laugh as he handed the baseball to Everertt. 

Molly rolled her eyes so hard, Bradley feared for her vision. "Really, Bradley? You're the most patriotic thing here." Then she cleared her throat and puffed out her chest and tried to imitate Bradley in a deeper voice. "Hi, I'm Bradley Bradshaw. And I'm in the Navy. And my dad was in the Navy, too." Bradley couldn't contain his laughter, and neither could you and Bob as she continued. "And my mom was red, white and blue striped. And I'm so patriotic, I could only propose on Independence Day. And I'm going to rename my son Everett the Bald Eagle."

Bradley was doubled over in laughter. "You're obnoxious," he told Molly, but she just smirked at him.

"Where's the lie?" she asked, snuggled up against Bob as he laughed too.

Bradley sighed and shook his head. "I'm not going to change Everett's name. At least not to that," he mumbled, following everyone as they made their way to the parking lot. When you wrapped your arm around Bradley's waist, he groaned. "I'm so sore."

"Poor thing," you crooned. "You want a backrub when we get home?"

Home. Bradley was going to drive home. Where he lived with his family.

"Are you offering?" he asked with a grin, but all he got in response was a sassy shrug. He loaded Everett and all of his gear into the Bronco and followed your car home. 

And it's not like he ever meant to take over your job of parenting your son, but Bradley absolutely loved helping with Everett's bedtime routine. So he told you to go relax while he got the bathtub ready. Bradley sat on the bathroom floor against the wall, chatting with Everett about baseball and summer camp. He let Everett ask him a million questions and promised to teach him how to keep baseball statistics.

"You should teach my mom, too," he said. "Since she's really good at math."

"We should get her a stats binder for her birthday."

"We should get her a lot more baseball stuff, because she doesn't really have any."

"Yeah," Bradley agreed. "We wouldn't want her to look ridiculous when we're all decked out in Phillies gear and she's not."

Everett started to drain the tub while Bradley handed him a towel. "Do you think she'll let us paint the extra bedroom red when we make it a Phillies room?"

Bradley winced. "I don't know, kiddo. Let me discuss that one with her."

Bradley followed him into his room and got out some pajamas, but once Everett was changed and tucked in bed, he gasped. "Dad! I left the baseball from your game in my booster seat!"

"I'll go get it," Bradley replied, heart swelling.

"Can you autograph it for me, too?"

A strange emotion took over Bradley's entire body, just like it always did in these moments. He felt like laughing and crying at the same time. "Sure, Ev."

By the time Bradley retrieved the baseball, signed it and came back upstairs, Everett was sound asleep. So he left the ball on the dresser and kissed his forehead.

And then he walked into your bedroom. Well, the one that he shared with you now. And you were sitting in the middle of the bed wearing one of his oversized tee shirts. You had removed your makeup, but you still looked beautiful as you reached for him.

"Pulled out a big win today, Coach. Let me rub your back."

"Somehow I keep winning," he muttered, quickly undressing and tossing his baseball uniform into the hamper. You coaxed him into bed, on his stomach, and Bradley groaned softly as you straddled his lower back and sat on his butt. "Feels good, Kitten."

Your soft laughter filled the room. "I didn't even do anything yet." But your lips met the back of his neck as your hands worked at his stiff right shoulder, and Bradley was melting into the soft bedding.

"Fuck," he grunted as you worked at a knot with your elbow. 

"Does it hurt?" you whispered, taking a break and kissing that spot.

"No," he replied. "Keep going." But you kept going with your kisses instead of your massage. You gently grabbed his biceps and kissed along his spine and back up again until he was panting. "Kitten."

"Hmm?" you hummed against his shoulder blade. Then you licked his salty skin, and Bradley let you pin his wrists in place on either side of his head. You whispered something filthy in his ear. "You're getting me worked up, and you're not even the one doing the touching, Coach. I'm gonna need you to fuck me."

But when he tried to move, you were firm with your hands, so he stayed put, feeling the throb of his erection against the mattress. You licked along his neck and behind his ear, and Bradley had to keep from bucking for relief. He was gritting his teeth against the sensation of your mouth brushing the shell of his ear as you said, "Your back is sexy. How is your back sexy?"

"Baby, please let me fuck you," he begged before you climbed off of him and stayed on all fours. Bradley slipped himself inside you with one quick thrust that had you moaning, and he slipped his fingers around your necklace chain. Very gently, he pulled you closer to him, careful not to harm your little paw print charm. Your back was arched deliciously, and he pushed the tee shirt up to your neck and caressed your tits.

"Bradley," you whined, but he didn't go any faster. Just languid thrusts, his cock brushing every sensitive spot inside you. He watched your pretty pussy take him as he yanked a little more on your necklace. With one hand on your ass, he guided you through a slow buildup to an orgasm that had you moaning his name for a solid two minutes. 

"Oh hell," he growled, spilling himself inside you, eyes closed and head tipped back. He released your necklace, and let you collapse onto your belly. You squealed as he pressed himself on top of you and kissed your upper back. "You're sexy here too, Kitten."

You giggled as he ended up giving you a back massage instead. "Ugh...your hands are so big."

"I pitched a full game, and I only got a two minute massage," he complained.

"Your fault for getting a boner," you replied, clearly enjoying the way he was touching you. 

Eventually Bradley took a shower and pulled on some clean underwear. You were nearly asleep when he climbed into bed, but you said, "I've been thinking about our wedding."

"Go on," he replied, kissing your scrunched up nose. "I'd love to hear more."

You yawned and whispered, "I think you'll like my idea." And then you told Bradley what you wanted to do. And then you said you wanted to do it in the next month or two. And he had you on your back, smothering your face in kisses while you giggled. 

"Wait," he said, pausing his kisses to look at you. "Is that even possible? Can we actually do that?"

You nodded. "I think so. If you know the right people. You wanna do it?"

"Yes, Baby. One hundred percent."

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

Thunderstorms had rolled in overnight, and you woke up to find Everett in your bed with you and Bradley. It had been quite a while since a storm had sent him into your room, but this one was particularly loud. Everett was curled up in the middle of the bed with Bradley's arm wrapped around him and his head on Bradley's shoulder. They were both sound asleep.

You gasped at how sweet they looked and grabbed your phone to take a picture. And then you checked under the covers to make sure Bradley was wearing underwear. Okay, great. You'd have to remind him to keep doing that. 

As you swiped through a bunch of texts from Molly, you cringed. She had sent them at three in the morning. She wasn't getting enough sleep, trying to transition from overnights to daytime shifts. You knew she needed to take better care of herself. "Oh, Molly," you sighed, climbing out of bed, leaving the boys to sleep a little longer. 

Bob and I are going to that Navy bar tonight. You and my future turd-in-law wanna come?

You snorted as you turned on the coffee maker. Maybe Everett could hang out with Maverick tonight? You'd have to see if that would work. You also needed to make a ton of phone calls at work today. When Bradley and Everett never surfaced, you had to go back upstairs and wake them up for work and summer camp respectively. And then you had to listen to them both bug you about turning the extra bedroom into a Phillies room. 

You just shook your head until they were both starting to whine. "I don't care!" you finally said with a laugh. "Do what you want, but you need to keep the spare bed in there."

Then they rushed out to the Bronco together with just enough time for Bradley to drop Everett off and still make it to North Island on time. You were being outnumbered. You were being overruled. They were teaming up against you. But honestly, you didn't even mind. They could have a Phillies room. Because now that Bradley was living with you, your life already felt less hectic. You felt like you could breathe with the way he did things like take control of bedtime and breakfasts. 

You practically floated into work. You even waved to Frank, with your left hand so hopefully he'd see your ring. Then you got settled at your desk and made a few phone calls. And it turns out, you can have the wedding you want if you just drop the right names. And it was a good thing you saved Jake Seresin's number in your phone. 

While you were desperately trying to finish up one of your projects that was precariously close to becoming overdue, Molly started texting you again. 

ARE YOU GOING TO ANSWER ME?! Bar tonight?

"Chill," you whispered, texting Bradley instead to try to find out if Ev could play with Maverick for a little bit at his hangar. When you left work that afternoon with the reassurance that Bradley would take Everett to hang out with Mav, you went home to get ready to go to the bar. 

It was amazing how you had the time to do your makeup and hair. You even tried on several outfits before settling on your black bodysuit and some denim shorts with sandals. Bradley was definitely going to like this. You just had to make sure he enjoyed it later and not right now, because you could hear his key in the door as you ran down the stairs. 

"I told Molly we'd meet them at the bar in twenty minutes. There's a plate of leftovers in the fridge for you. And I planned our wedding."

Bradley was in his flight suit, frozen just inside the front door with his keys hanging from his hand. "You planned our wedding? And you're wearing your kitten bodysuit?" he asked with a small smile. 

"Mmhmm," you hummed, kissing his cheek and unzipping his flight suit as you pulled him toward the kitchen. "We have a wedding date."

His smile grew. "You gonna tell me when that might be, Kitten?"

"September third."

"Sounds perfect. And you gonna let me play with you and your kitten costume?"

You bit your lip. "You're really just going to be okay with getting married in a few weeks?"

"Of course," he rasped, kissing your neck. "I'm ready."

"Okay, Coach. And if you're really good, I'll put on my ears and whiskers after we get home later. Now eat your dinner."

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

Bradley had seen you drink before. But he had never seen you drunk before. It was highly entertaining. You and Molly were truly a sight to behold, both wearing skin tight tops and giggling. Even Bob looked like he was enjoying himself more than he had the past couple days as Molly clung to his side and kept tucking her hand up the hem of his shirt. 

"Those sailors keep buying me drinks," you whispered so loudly, Bradley had to laugh. Sure enough, there were some guys at the bar who were buying drinks for all the women, hoping one of them would stick. "I've had like four whiskey sours," you said, holding up three fingers.

"You're so fucking good at math, Kitten," he replied, placing a kiss on the swell of your breast as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

When you giggled next to his ear, Bradley briefly considered taking you to the bathroom for a quickie. But to his dismay, he saw that Molly and Bob seemed to be on their way back there already. 

"Well scratch that idea," Bradley murmured as you tangled your fingers in his hair. 

"Rooster! Come play pool!" Nat called, and you started to push him toward the pool table. 

"Go play with your friends," you insisted. "I'm going to get another drink and then look for Molly."

"Yeah, I wouldn't do that just yet," Bradley said with a grimace that he was sure just went right over your head. "And don't flirt with too many sailors, Kitten."

"I'm not, Coach," you insisted, patting his abs through his shirt. "But they are just so friendly. They won't let me pay for anything."

Bradley shook his head as you weaved your way back to the bar. He kept an eye on you as Penny served you another whiskey sour, and then he saw Molly and Bob stumbling back as he took a shot at the pool table. Bob's cheeks were flushed, and his hair and glasses were a mess. Bradley had never seen him look happier. Molly kissed Bob and then made a beeline for you, and Bob definitely wasn't the only one watching her walk away.

Bradley was laughing as Bob made his way to the pool table. "They're okay over there with those guys, right?" Bob asked, jerking his finger over his shoulder.

"You afraid Molly's going to ditch you or something?"

"I mean..." he started, adjusting his glasses and fixing his hair. "I didn't give her a ring yet. You're a step ahead of me. So honestly, I'm always a little afraid something like that's gonna happen."

"Bob. Get real, man," Bradley said, chuckling as he watched Nat obliterate him at pool. "She just rocked your world in the bathroom."

He stuttered for quite a while before he managed to say, "Yeah, but look at her. She's gorgeous."

"Give it up, Bob. You're stuck with her now."

"Hi," you said, wrapping your arms around Bradley's waist from behind. You managed to make that one word sound like it had about seven syllables while you laughed. 

"You having fun?" he asked. "Not getting into trouble?"

You were swaying on your feet and laughing. Even Molly wasn't this bad, nursing her glass of wine and whispering something to Bob that was making him blush again. 

"I'm being so good," you promised. "Jake bought me a drink."

"Of course he did," Bradley replied when Jake handed you a beer. "I'm going to have to keep a close eye on you whenever I bring you here. And you might not be allowed to wear this next time." He ran his knuckles along your bodysuit that fit you like a second skin, and you sighed. "The sailors can look, and they can spend their money on you, but they can't touch my Kitten."

"That feels good," you gasped, and Bradley kissed your nose.

"You'll feel even better when I get you home later."

You handed your beer to Bradley and sunk your fingers into his hair, leaving him standing awkwardly with the bottle in one hand and his pool cue in the other. 

"I wish you were Ev's dad," you whispered against his lips. 

He set the cue against a stool and wrapped his arm around you. "Me too, Kitten." Truly, he would love that. But he didn't need it. He already had the two of you which was more than enough. More family than he ever thought he'd get. 

"You'd never force my hand like Danny is," you added softly, looking up at him with unfocused eyes and a soft smile. "Never."

He could feel the goosebumps on his arms as he asked, "What do you mean, Baby?"

"You know," you sighed, rubbing yourself against him. "I'm paying for a lawyer, and what good is it going to do? I can't get Danny's name off Everett's birth certificate. I can't get full custody and parental rights. I can't have anything except child support, which I don't even want, because he's going to be a complete jerk and contest it until I'm ready to scream. And I'll have wasted 

thousands of dollars on nothing when we could have taken a vacation or something."

Bradley was stunned. This was way more information than you'd given him about what was going on. "Kitten, if you want to go on vacation, I'll take you and Ev anywhere you want to go. Or I can pay for your lawyer."

"You sound just like Molly!" you complained, booping him on the nose and squishing his lips together. 

Bradley tried not to laugh as Molly looked up from kissing Bob. "Did you call me?" she asked, and you started laughing hysterically. 

Bradley checked the time and shook his head. As the designated driver, he should probably round the three of you up and get everyone home and pick up Everett on the way. But now you and Molly were both over by the jukebox, dancing with Bob to whatever song was playing, and Bradley just didn't have the heart to break it up yet.

But thirty minutes later, he was carrying you out to the parking lot while Bob and Molly stumbled along as well. And now he was mentally planning a family vacation. Maybe to the mountains over Everett's winter break? Disney World in the spring? He didn't know what the two of you would want to do, but he'd make it happen. Hell, he could even take you and Everett up to Los Angeles for a weekend. Whatever it ended up being, it would be perfect. 

And Bradley would let you know when you were sober that you were by no means finished with the conversation about Danny. 

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

Coach Daddy Bradley has moved in. And the boys are getting a Phillies room. And they have a wedding date! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32

PART 28

Don't forget to check out Bob and Molly in The Curveball!

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[angeladdict]

i asked for a hotel room from multiple people after being thrown in jail by a man who framed me and wanted me to die named mark bradley. he worked with charlene to push me over the edge. they set me up for failure and when i ask for money to stay somewhere i got insulted and shamed by my ex who pretends he is broke. thats embarrassing. why would he pretend hes broke. thats embarrassing. i paid for months of his rent, i furnished his entire home. its over . i paid 1 grand to ship his car across the country when he moved. its disgusting. his mother instructed me to not buy real estate. its literally fucking disgusting . its DISGUSTING. their family cursed my life up and down. they are fucking disgusting . his mother yvette blowers instructed me to not buy a house and to waste my money until i was broke. i almost died . a cop tried to kill me irl and my ex sam rockwell INSULTED me when i asked for help. thats FUNNY! people are demons. thats truth.

hes gonna read this too you tweaker cunt. i blocked you. fuck you heartless financial rapist. youre disgusting. you are fucking worthless to me. fuck your entire family too. fuck you. i MOVED no thanks to you. its fucking disgusting

[skankinator]

Complications Ch. 1

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x FemReader

Author’s note: This is my first fanfic ever written. I hope you like it!

You grew up near a Navy base in San Diego and always dreamed of flying those jets you saw so often. You joined the military as soon as you turned eighteen. That was ten years and many stations ago. You’ve finally established yourself as a missions specialist after having to repeatedly prove yourself. Each mission you plan and execute takes you to a new destination. This one brought you back home.

The missions you specialize in are air operations. From the beginning of your career you made certain that you were the top in your class for everything, especially aviation. This quickly got you promoted to Top Gun where you spent a few years as an elite aviator. Your job has brought you to complete a mission with Top Gun’s Dagger Squadron.

You had files on each member of the squadron to study before arriving. You briefly looked over them on the flight over, only taking note of any information useful to the mission. You would have to teach them every aspect of your plan and train them to execute it perfectly, so you didn’t pay attention to little details.

You had a pre-furnished apartment ready for the time you would be posted in San Diego. You have little belongings from moving so frequently. You could fit your whole life into a couple of boxes. Traveling so frequently also made it difficult to maintain relationships, except your friendship with Stacie.

You texted your closest friend from high school that still lives in the area telling her that you had arrived. You didn’t expect an answer from her for a while. She works third shift at the 24/7 pharmacy, so she wouldn’t be awake for a few hours.

After arriving at the airport, you gathered your suitcases and took a taxi to the apartment. It wasn’t much. Just a one bedroom apartment with a small kitchen and living area. The furniture was rather plain and there were no decorations aside from a bowl on the coffee table full of potpourri.

You left your luggage unpacked and decided to leave your drab apartment. You got dinner at your favorite food truck, unsurprised that they are still in business. Best. Tacos. Ever. Feeling nostalgic, you decide to go to the bar in which you and your squadron spent most of your time.

The Hard Deck had not changed a bit. When you arrived the place was already swarming with people from the base. You made your way over to the bar where you were greeted by a familiar face.

“Y/N! I haven’t seen you in ages, what brings you back,” Penny said with a bright smile. One that reminded you of home.

“I’ve got a mission for a Top Gun squadron. How bad are they these days?” You question knowing Penny was the best person to ask about the cocky pilots.

“Not as bad as your class,” she said with a knowing look that brought a tinge of red to your cheeks. To be fair, you were once a hot shot pilot looking down on others from the high horse called Top Gun.

You spent many nights causing trouble at the Hard Deck. Penny had kicked your squad out on several occasions that ended with you sleeping in the sand. Some say your squad let a pelican into the bar and ordered it a beer. This cannot be confirmed nor denied by anyone. Alcohol conveniently has a way of messing with your memory.

“We had some good times,” you said to Penny as she handed you a beer and went to take orders from the very crowded bar. You sat and relaxed sipping on your beer while silently people watching. This was one of your favorite past times.

You saw people mingling with their cliques. Some in uniform some not, either way you could tell who was military or civilian. You end up focusing on a pool game happening across the bar. The group of friends/colleagues? were dressed in their khaki uniforms.

After a while, another joined the group. He wore a Hawaiian shirt that hugged his biceps and a pair of sunglasses that hid his eyes. His skin was kissed by the sun and damp with sweat. San Diego was hot this time of year. You opted for a white tank top and denim shorts that left just enough to the imagination.

You couldn’t help but stare at this stranger. You hadn’t noticed he was the center of your attention until he disappeared. You found yourself looking for him around the bar. Somewhere within the loud jumble of noise from the crowded bar came music. This wasn’t music from the jukebox, it was a piano.

You looked over and saw your mystery man sitting there beginning to play his heart out. Everyone around joined in singing and dancing to the song he played. You payed little attention to the music distracted by his strong arms expertly moving to the music. His long fingers delicately touching the keys. His neck muscles straining as he sang.

Oh shit. You’re really turned on by a really hot stranger. You haven’t exactly had your needs fulfilled since you broke up with your ex. Since then you busied yourself with work and left little time for dating. Of course, you don’t have to date a guy to have your needs met.

You didn’t notice the song end, but you had noticed a presence next to you. Your jaw nearly dropped when you saw the sexy stranger standing next to you. He was rather close thanks to the crowd. Penny and the other bar tenders were trying to get to everyone as quickly as they could, but you would rather them take their time. The stranger stood waiting to order another round.

“I haven’t seen you here before,” he said out of the blue. It took a moment for you to realize he was talking to you.

“I-I just flew in today,” you said cursing yourself. Really, that’s all you could muster up. It is hard to think of anything witty to say when you are lost in his smile.

“What brings you to San Diego? I hope it’s not a boyfriend,” he says deepening his voice for the second half. Oh my god is he flirting with me?!

“No boyfriend, just work. I am a… um new teacher. My first day is Monday,” you say putting on a flirtatious look. Technically you are not lying. But are here to teach fighter pilots, not school kids. In the past you have found that men can be run off by your high position in the military.

“Let me buy you a drink to start your school year out right,” we both laugh and look to the still very busy bartenders. We look back to each other. I wish he would take off those silly sunglasses. There is a short lull in the conversation before you pipe up.

“What about you?” You blurt out, just realizing he has been lead in the whole conversation. “What do you do?” His answer is not surprising. His look totally fits the part.

“I’m a pilot,” the way he says it doesn’t sound like a brag at all. He isn’t trying to show boat, instead he states it as fact nothing more.

“Lucky for you I quite like pilots,” your buzz from the three beers have finally taken over. You place your hand on his chest creeping up to his shoulder. He closes what little space is available and places a large hand respectfully low on your thigh.

You can tell he is waiting for you to make the first move. You lean up from your barstool and pull him down into a kiss. His lips are soft contrasting his prickly mustache.

The kiss doesn’t last as long as you would like. When you separate it is like time is frozen. There are no words between the two of you. You are both brought back to earth by a perfectly timed question.

“Can I get you anything?” Penny questions and you snap back to reality a bit flustered.

“I think we would like to close our tabs,” he says after clearing his throat. It’s like he read your mind. Penny looks to you and gives an approving smile and wink before turning to close the tabs.

Once everything is settled, you are making your way through the crowd with a warm hand on your lower back guiding you to the exit.

[vegaspam]

until next time / part two / raven to bradley

this is not a full fic! this is the text-post version of the letter photos from my fic over on my main blog @vivalas-vega that you can read here

Bradley,

I wish I had more to update you on - things have been pretty boring around here. I did have a drunken facetime with Nat and I feel better about everything. Still processing, but I’ll be fine. I have been channeling it into my writing - between these letters and all the journaling my hand is cramping like no other.

My trip home was as to be expected - my parents send their best and you unfortunately have a very ugly blanket my mom knitted for you awaiting your return. Your parents’ headstones were completely overgrown and I absolutely didn’t yell at the groundskeeper but we did have a chat about maintaining the grave of an American hero. I know they wouldn’t care about weeds, but I don’t know where else to put my love so just let me wig out about the landscaping. I had a good talk with Goose and after talking with your mom the biggest gust of wind kicked up. It was probably a coincidence but I like to believe it was her way of giving me a hug - it felt the same. 

I’ve been thinking about your offer - San Diego does sound really great right now but I don’t know how feasible it is to actually go. I made the mistake of mentioning it to Natasha and now it’s all she’s texting me about. It somehow feels like the right and wrong time to get out of the city… but, I’ll bring it up with Miranda in our meeting this week and see what she says. I know I should be more spontaneous and just go for it but you know that’s never been my strong suit. I’m incredibly surprised your guest room still isn’t set up, I helped you furnish it over facetime months ago. Has it all just been sitting there in boxes this whole time? Very unlike you, Mr. Bradshaw.

I don’t know if Jake told you but my last letter wound up on his pillow and he wrote me to apologize for reading it. I know you have your opinions about him but I found it kind of endearing and I’m going to write him back. Figured I’d warn you in case you see my handwriting on an envelope that isn’t addressed to you. It seems I’m adopting another naval aviator and I’m contemplating opening a business - I’m sure there’s a market for lonely military personnel, however the more I think about it the more I realize it could get really gross, really fast.

Did you like the book? Natasha read it too so maybe we could get a book club going. I’ll start workshopping some names - I’m not sure how to incorporate Dagger Squad and literature but I’ll figure it out. I wish you hadn’t referred to it as free porn but you’re welcome. I’m not sure why you’re disturbed I’m considering those needs as well as your snack and fresh sock needs. I'm sure there are people on that ship that would love to have such a considerate friend on the outside. That made it sound like you’re in prison, but the lack of contact and these letters kind of makes it feel that way on my end. I’m only doing my part because frankly I don’t know how any of you survive on those ships so long, I think I’d lose my mind. Are there any cute girls you’ve noticed around? Could be a nice story to fall in love on deployment. Could also be my next big book idea, so get to it so I have some real world inspiration.

I promise I really will think about San Diego - it would be nice to be able to welcome you home. These letters don’t do a lot for the whole missing you thing. The more I mull it over the more I realize I really need to get out of the city for a while.

Miss and love you lots (also, I’m not using that paper anymore. It’s awful, I donated it to my friends classroom),

Raven

[sometimesanalice]

Bradley’s Room from Give Me Your Hand {Here Is My Heart}: updated with headcanons

This is the before, and here’s the after! 

Bradley is practical. If it’s in good condition then he isn’t going to throw it out, not if it serves the purpose he needs it to. He knows he’s not the best at decorating, but he does his best.

More headcanons below!

Bed: His bed and the wall print are his newest additions to his room. This was his first time picking out his own bed. (his dorm came with one, his semi-furnished apartment had one, and the the Navy always provided him with one) was a bit overwhelmed by the options when he first settled on getting a new one. So he went to IKEA and picked one out in the show room and called it a day. Then the print caught his eye on the way to the check out. All the people and all the choices had stressed him out, so when he got home the first thing he did was got to his fridge for a beer. Which turned into a few, and then putting the bed together seemed like a piece of cake, so he definitely half-assed a couple steps. He’s a fairly light sleeper, so sometimes that squeak does wake him up when he rolls over.

Other furniture: Some of the things he has, like his bookcase and desk lamp, are things from his college years that he took care of. His taste has always been pretty classic (except for his affinity for Hawaiian print shirts), so when his graduating friends would offer him things they were trying to offload, he would only take what he thought he’d get good use out of. Things that could sit in storage for a long while, but he would still like years later.

He doesn’t care much for the aesthetics, but he does try to match woods or get things that are complimentary. (Like he was excited about finding his nightstand because it tied in well with the desk he had.)

Other things like his tall standing lamp and desk were handed off to him by Navy friends who had their own places and were upgrading to nicer things (usually at their partner’s insistence). He’s never thought much of it, but realizing that his stuff is really just other people’s cast offs that he’s accumulated really hits him when she’s in his bedroom for the first time. And probably because it wasn’t an intentional choice to source things secondhand, but a byproduct of necessity and being survival mode for so long.

Bookcase: His book case is mostly NATOP manuals. But he has his childhood collection of the Hardy Boy series, the copy of ‘Why Men Love Bitches’ that Phoenix gave him as a “congrats-on-your-break-up” gift, ‘A Promised Land’ by Barack Obama and some other political biographies. He also definitely has a copy of 'Infinite Jest’, that he touted as his favorite book in college until someone called him out for having the taste of an “elite fuckboy���. While he does enjoy a good mystery novel, he doesn’t have the time to read them. He’ll try and start them to decompress from the, but usually ends up falling asleep because he’s drained. So some of those novels have some noticeable creases from accidentally rolling over on them in his sleep.

Model Fighter Jet: Displayed on his bookcase, there is a model F-14 Tomcat that was his favorite toy when he was a kid. His mom had it mounted on a stand and gave it to him as a gift for his 16th birthday. (the same birthday that Mav gave him the blue Montero and spent the summer helping him fix it up) So he didn’t have an appreciation for it back then, but it’s come to be one of his most prized possessions.

After he redecorates his room (with that canopy bed and expensive dresser), SG moves the model downstairs to a place of honor on his fireplace mantle, so that he can enjoy it more. And in the winter on the rare occasion that they turn on the fireplace, she moves it to his side table with the framed picture of his parents. Just as a precaution, since she doesn’t want the heat to do anything to it.

Framed Sheet Music: The framed sheet music is from a book of music that SG gave him for his 12th birthday. She was so excited when her mom agreed to take her to the music shop and she found one that had “Great Balls of Fire” in it after she had heard him saying it was his favorite song. She spent a long time doing her fireball art on it because she thought it would make it more fun to learn if there was something to look at. (her mom thought it was a *choice* but didn’t say anything about it) But at his birthday party when she gave it to him, he laughed along with the other tween boys who thought playing the piano was for nerds. So she faked a stomach ache and had her mom take her home early. It’s kind of bittersweet, because it really was Bradley’s favorite song, but he wasn’t the nicest about receiving it. (he definitely still feels guilty about it sometimes) This was before they had really formed their own friendship outside of their moms, but for his next birthday he asked that they go to the retro diner that had giant milkshakes. So he keeps it with him because it reminds him of her, but also of home.

And when they move into their perfectly charming 1930′s tutor house, they hang it on the wall by the entry, so it’s the first thing you see when you walk in.

[ash5monster01]

Lessons of You Part 7

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, mentions of depression, mentions of smut, broken reader, 18+

Summary: Blake Parker was used to running. When life got hard, she’d run. The idea of sticking around to end up broken was scarier then she’d like to admit. So she hid away, cut all ties, and lived contently on her own. She was done running because no one could find her there. That is until a Navy Pilot runs into her life, and she learns allowing yourself to love can be scary, but hiding from it can be even worse.

a/n: I’m soooo sorry it’s been so long. I dropped that smutty chapter and literally dipped. The Fourth of July is the busiest time of the year for me so I was preoccupied with that but here is the newest chapter. sadly our story is coming to a close, I have a feeling the next chapter will be the last. thank you so much for coming on this journey with me and reading along xx

word count: 1,871

Intro, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Final

Masterlist

It had been two days since Blake had heard from Bradley. She tried not to worry but it was hard. Going from a week of Bradley texting her every chance he got to being in her bed the night before he left, it was hard to go to complete radio silence. She tried to remind herself she knew nothing about the mission. Bradley never once mentioned how long it would be, how many days it could take, how far away it was, nothing. She prayed that it just meant he was still busy and serving his country. She had no other way to contact anyone to make sure he was alive. She kind of knew Phoenix but she didn’t have her number, and she could go back to the Hard Deck but if they had lost someone why would they have any need to be celebrating at a bar? So she waited and prayed that if she ever did recieve word it would be good news.

After her night with Bradley she had texted her Mom informing her she was ready to move back. Her Mom had already found an apartment, searching before Blake had even decided. It was a perfect little place and it reminded her very much of the one she was in now. The minute she gave her Mom the go ahead they got it all worked out, her Dad already fixing things in the apartment that it needed. So now Blake's life consisted of boxes, not many considering she didn't have much, but there was still stuff to be packed and taken with her on her self discovery journey. The idea of being home was exciting and nerve wracking all at the same time. She just hoped that when it was time for her to go Bradley will have returned.

"Almost done packing as we speak" Blake told her Mom over the phone as she looked at the living room stuffed with boxes. Her apartment had come completely furnished so majority of the boxes was clothes, bedding, and some dishware. Considering she did the same thing every day and didn't socialize much that wasn't even a lot either. Majority of the boxes were filled with books. Once she had finished she was surprised to realize what a small mark of hers she had left on San Diego, it was as if she took up no space at all.

"Are you excited, we can't wait to see you" her Mom cheered on the phone and Blake smiled, because she was excited but nerves twinged in her stomach over Bradley.

"Yeah, I can't wait" but her Mom heard it in her voice, and she knew something was wrong. She prayed she wasn't changing her mind.

"It doesn’t sound like it" Blake sighed and pressed a hand to her head.

"I am Mom, I promise. It's just I haven't heard from Bradley and last I knew he was picked for some dangerous mission. I will be more enthusiastic once I know he is safe" her parents knew of Bradley, considering he was the only thing to happen in her life recently that was worth talking about. The attractive Navy pilot with a heart of gold who brought their daughter back to them. They would be forever indebted to him for that.

"I'm sure he's fine sweetheart, he's trained for these type of things and they wouldn't of chosen him if they didnt think there would be a chance of him not coming back home" Blake nodded because she knew her Mom was right, she just needed to hear his voice. One last goodbye with the guy who made her whole again. He was a life lesson she needed, the one she was waiting for. The thing about life lessons though was usually after you learn them you don't need it anymore. That thought terrified her, because Bradley is the only reason she had felt something for the first time in years.

"I know, I just worry that maybe something did happen and not a single soul knows to contact me. Maybe he didn't make it and I would never know and have to come back home wondering whatever happened to the Navy Pilot I kind of fell for" this was Blake's first time admitting to any feelings at all, but Bradley was the first person to make her heart start beating in a long time and she couldn't just leave without knowing if he was okay.

"Blake honey, people are meant to be in our lives for a reason. Whether it's forever or only for one reason. Bradley met you for a reason and maybe you weren't meant to see him again, but it you are you'll know. Now don't worry so much, he is a professional after all" Blake sighed as she said this before nodding despite the fact her mother couldn’t see her.

"I'm gonna finish packing, I'll call you later Mom" Blake told her, not wanting to cry because she knew her Mom was right. Her Mom was trying to not break her heart if Bradley did never return. She would just have to remember him as something good that helped her through a rough patch of her life.

"Okay, be safe" her Mom responded and Blake ended the call uninterested in hearing anymore of letting Bradley go. She just wasn’t quite ready to pretend that the short time spent with Bradley was just that. A small shared moment between two broken people who helped each other learn that life goes on and it is as good as you make it.

It didn't take long to finish packing. She didn't have a lot and once she shut the last box she realized that there was nothing more to occupy her time then worry about Bradley. So even though she had told the publishing company she needed a few days she grabbed her latest shelf read and made her way to the porch to try and finish it. The sound of waves crashing, seagulls cawing, and kids screams from the beach was able to drown out her thoughts as she escaped into a different world. That was until she noticed the male lead in the book was an awful lot like Bradley. Dark and mysterious yet so full of love.

"Here I was thinking you'd be waiting at the door for me, worry all over you face, and instead I find you out here reading. Typical" Blake dropped the book in her hands, whipping around to see the beautiful mustached man standing in her doorway. She must've not heard the front door.

"Bradshaw!" without even realizing tears fell down her cheeks as she rushed towards him, him instantly engulfing her in a hug. "I was so worried, I didn't know what to think or who to call"

"It's okay, I'm here now" he comforted her, a hand running down her back and he instantly felt guilty knowing what had just happened on his mission.

"Was everything successful?" she asked, now backing away and holding his face in her hands.

"Yes, of course there were a few hiccups but we didn't lose any lives" he told her, afraid to tell her the hiccup was him pretty much sacrficing himself. Yet Blake saw all the guilt all over his face, her eyebrows instantly drawing together.

"You almost didn't make it?" she whispered, a thumb pressing out the crease in his forehead.

"Uncle Pete, Maverick took a hit for me and his plane went down. I couldn't just leave him so I went down after him" Blake gasped just slightly, possibilities running through her head like wildfire.

“You could have died” Blake fought the tears that threatened to run down her face, she didn’t want to be upset because he was here now. Right in front of her.

“I know, I know. I wasn’t thinking, just I saw him get hit for me. I thought I was a goner, and then I realized that when he went down for me that was the last family I had and if I didn’t do something I’d never forgive myself” Bradley told her, hands gripping her wrists as he tried to tell her everything was okay.

“Is he okay?” she asked and a smile cracked across his face.

“Yeah, lucky bastard and a little help from Hangman later but we both made it” he grinned at her and she chuckled, just knowing Hangman would hold that over him forever.

“I thought if you died I’d never know, I had no one to contact. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself while you were gone” Blake finally admitted and a tear rolled down his cheek at her confession.

“I gave Phoenix your number, she had specific instructions to call if I didn’t make it and give you any information you needed” Blake drew her eyebrows together in confusion.

“But you went down, they thought you and Pete were dead. She never called” Bradley chuckled through his tears, smile on his face.

“She knew I was still out there, I’m a tough asshole” Blake chuckled and shook her head as she pulled him back into another hug.

“Okay enough death talk, I’m just glad you’re here” she told him and he nodded on top of her head, arms wrapped around her waist.

“I saw the boxes in the living room” he said, immediately noticing the house was emptier than before when he arrived.

“Yeah. I um, found an apartment back home” she said pulling back, her eyes searching his face for a reaction.

“When do you leave?” he asked and Blake sighed, knowing it was too fast, that they only had such little time together.

“Tuesday” Two days. That was it. Two days and then she would be halfway across the country.

“Wow” was all he could bring himself to say, letting the information sink in despite the fact he wanted to pretend she’d be here forever.

“I know we only got a short time together but you taught me that you can lose people at any moment, life is full of regrets, and one of them shouldn’t be staying away from loved ones when you still have a chance to love them” Bradley smiled, happy he was able to give her that. Even if they knew each other for a small period of time, they still learned so much from one another.

“I’m happy I could show you that, you helped me too you know. I probably never would’ve allowed my Uncle back into my life if it wasn’t for you. So now when you leave I still have someone here for me” Blake smiled and hugged the boy tight again, knowing that this conversation felt final. Knowing that despite how hard they try, being across the country from each other wouldn’t keep them together.

“So, what’re you doing for the next two days?” Blake asked, her voice vibrating against his chest and Bradley chuckled, a wide smile spread across his face.

“Spending them with you, if you’ll let me” he told her and Blake smiled, her head tilting up to look at him.

“You don’t have to ask for permission anymore big B”

Taglist: @emma8895eb @aemondssiut

comment if you want to be added to the tag list :))

[thekeyofreason]

Found in "Murder is Served" by Frances and Richard Lockridge. Published by Avon, 1951.

Found in "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man" by James Joyce. Published by Time Life books, 1964.

Found in "Black Widow" by Patrick Quentin. Dell Book #759, 1952.

Found in "Handel and the Famous Sword Swallower of Halle" by Bryna Stevens. Published by Philomel Books, 1990.

Found in "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" by Douglas Adams. Published by Harmony Books, 1979.

Found in "Shining Hours" published by Bobbs-Merrill, 1960.

Found in "Little Women" by Louisa May Alcott. Published by World Publishing, circa 1934.

Found in "Mystery of the East Wind" by Dwight Marfield. Published by E.P. Dutton, 1930.

Found in "The Hearthstone; or, Life at Home. A Household Manual Containing Hints & Help for Home Making; Home Furnishing, Decorations, Amusements, Health Directions, The Sick Room; The Nursery, the Library, the Laundry, etc., Together with A Complete Cookery Book" by Laura C. Holloway. Published by Bradley, Garretson and Co., 1883.

Found in "Castaways of the Flying Dutchman" by Brian Jacques. Published by Philomel Books, 2001.

Forgotten Bookmarks found in books (x)

[localadvancedhomerepairsllc]

Lighthouse Christian Gifts for Your Home

Whether you’re looking for something to give as a gift or to spruce up your own living space, you’re sure to find something perfect among the selection at Willow Tree, Vera Bradley, and Lighthouse Christian Gifts.

[bradleyfurnishings]

Having a neat and organized home is essential for creating a peaceful and stress-free environment. But when you don’t have a lot of space, it can be challenging to keep things tidy and maximize the space you do have. 

Fortunately, there are plenty of creative space-saving hacks that can help you turn your cluttered and cramped living space into a tidy and organized paradise. From furniture that doubles as storage to clever hanging solutions, these five space-saving hacks can help you make the most of your home and create a calm and inviting atmosphere.

[sunlightmurdock]

Ceasefire | 0.1 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Prologue | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Synopsis: Bradley Bradshaw is in San Diego, summoned to Top Gun for the first time. Commander “Hyde” Simpson is his flight instructor, and she doesn’t have time for schoolboy crushes.

Warnings: ex-husband!beausimpson, divorce, age gap (rooster is somewhere between 26-28, reader is 38), power imbalance between instructor and student aviator, swearing, angst, smut, pinv, oral (f&m)

…

You move out on the fourth week of class. A year ago, you could have never imagined finding four weeks of sleeping under the same roof as your husband to be so difficult. Everyone in the house was walking on eggshells around Beau.

He never lost his temper with you, and especially not around his children, but he made it clear that he wasn’t happy. He spent most of the time in his office.

You were actively looking at properties the entire time, but the urgency came in the third week. You were packing lunches for the kids whilst Beau was standing to your left, making a coffee. One of the rare times he had let himself be alone in a room with you since you told him you were leaving him.

“Where’s your ring?”

You had paused, halfway through cutting the crusts off of Taylor’s sandwich. Your eyes had fallen down to your ring finger. To Beau, it looked exceptionally bare. To you, it looked exactly the way it had for over a week by that point.

“I stopped wearing it.” You answered softly, without turning to look at him. There’s a heavy silence between the two of you. He sets his mug down on the island, leaving his half-made coffee to go cold.

He passes by you without a word, sulking off back to his office.

You know that Taylor is finding it difficult to grasp. She knows what divorce is — she has friends with mommies and daddies that don’t live together anymore. She just doesn’t understand that situations change. In her head — divorced parents were divorced parents and together parents were together parents.

Dylan doesn’t want to talk about it. He told you on the way to school drop off that he was happy if you were happy. That isn’t as true as he would like you to believe, you know him well enough to know that for certain.

Beau barely acknowledges you telling him that you’re moving out — beside the initial custody argument.

You offered fifty-fifty. He’s hurting. He wants full.

You got the keys for your new place on Wednesday. Dropped the kids off at your mother’s house on Friday night — giving you Saturday and Sunday morning before your mom drops the kids home, to make your new house a home.

It’s nowhere near as big as the place you shared with Beau, but it’s nice. Two storey [ ] with a yard, still close enough that they can stay in the same school and see their dad as often as they would like.

You set up your bed on Friday night just so that you don’t have to spend a second in that big, old house with Beau, alone. You just can’t stand the way that he looks at you these days.

You move all of the furnishings in first. You let yourself think that you’re doing a great job bringing everything in from the u-haul and finding a new place for it in the house.

Until it comes to putting the kids’ rooms together.

You growl in frustration, dropping the screwdriver to the hardwood.

Whoever decided to make the instructions for furniture picture only was going to have to fight you one day soon. Words would help. Words would make this entire situation infinitely easier. You’re in your own head about it more than anything. If you splinter a piece of wood on one of these bed frames, your kids will show up in a strange place with no place to sleep.

You’ve already uprooted a huge part of their life. There’s no way in hell you’re letting them turn up here without somewhere to call their own. You check your watch. It’s already 2pm. You still have half a truckload of stuff to unpack, and two bedrooms full of furniture to build.

You should’ve been able to do this. When you had told Beau you were leaving him, it hadn’t once occurred to you that the hardest part of divorce would be conquering flat-pack furniture. You’re strong, and smart and you’ve always been so independent. Flat-pack furniture should not be your downfall.

And yet, here you are.

Surrounded by pieces one through fifteen, and bunches of screws A through H - with no idea how they’re supposed to fit together.

You could call Beau. He’s only twenty minutes away. You know he’s sitting in that big, empty house, all by himself. He’s probably waiting for you to call him. Probably just waiting to know that you can’t do it without him.

You won’t give him the satisfaction.

You pick up your glass and take a sip of the mediocre wine your mom had given you as a housewarming present. The liquid swishes around your mouth as you pass it from cheek to cheek. You stare at the unassembled furniture. You make a mental note to buy yourself something a little stronger as a real housewarming present once you’re done with this crap. You’re reminded of playing Lego Star Wars with Dylan. If only assembling things in real life was as easy as it was on that game.

That’s when it clicks. The number in your phone from two Fridays ago. Bradley. Sweet, willing, eager Bradley. ‘Call me for anything’ Bradley. He did say anything.

It’s been easy enough to ignore him so far.

You purse your lips and consider whether it’s an abuse of your power to have one of your students do your dirty work for you. It does seem kind of like you would be taking advantage of the fact that this boy clearly has feelings for you. But - it’s not your fault that men will do anything for a chance to get in your pants. You could do with the help.

You wish you could say that you debated it for longer than a minute. Even more than that, you wish he didn’t pick up as quickly as he did.

“Hello?” He pants. Your brows scrunch. He’s really out of breath.

“Hey, it’s Hyde… are you… in the middle of something?” You ask tenderly. He’s breathing on the other end of the line like he just got done running a marathon. He quickly reassures you that he isn’t busy. “Okay. Um… I need a favour. If I texted you my address, do you think you could help me with something?”

He agrees. So quickly. Quick enough that you regret asking him before the call is even over. You sit back against the wooden floor and stare at the disassembled furniture for a moment. This is a mistake.

You make as much progress as you can before he arrives, so that he doesn’t have to be here for as long. You’re about halfway through building Taylor’s big-girl-bed when the doorbell rings.

You push yourself up and walk to the front door. Regret fills you for not tidying the place before he got here - there are boxes everywhere. You correct yourself. Your intention isn’t to impress him. Maybe this will be the thing to finally put him off. Hopefully after he’s done what you need him to do.

“Hi,” You pull open the front door and look him up and down. He’s standing there in jean shorts, flip flops and an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt with a tank top under it. He grins at you and pushes his sunglasses up onto his head.

His cheeks are flushed and a little red. Those stupid puppy dog eyes are looking at you like you’re the best thing they’ve ever seen. Not to mention, he’s quite literally glistening. It’s a hot day. You can tell he’s been out in the sun, his chest is a little too red.

Your smile falters slightly, “You’re… really sweaty.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry,” Rooster chuckles, wiping his forehead with the back of his palm. “I was playing football down at the beach with a couple of the guys.”

You swallow. Nod your head. Remind yourself to breathe.

“Of course you were.” You mutter under your breath as you step out of his way and motion for him to come inside. Of course he was. You can picture it now. You bet every woman on the beach couldn’t take their eyes off of him. The tank top is thin and exceptionally dry for how warm his cheeks look. Meaning he was most likely playing shirtless.

You don’t want or need to think about that right now. It’s already been a long day.

“Sorry?” Rooster didn’t quite catch what you said. Thank god.

“Nothing, um - this way.” You walk off ahead of him. He happily trails along behind you. He’s never seen you out of your work clothes before. You’re just wearing a simple sundress, nothing special, and your hair is claw clipped up out of the way. His eyes are on the back of your neck as you walk up ahead of him.

He imagines what it would be like to touch. To run his fingertips along the length of your spine. In lieu of that, he trails the same distance with his eyes. They linger on the curve of your ass, the way the material hugs it. The way he could surge forwards and press you into any wall in this house and just push that fabric up out of his way.

Rooster takes a deep breath. He swallows, then turns his focus to the architecture.

“Beautiful home, Commander Simpson.” He remarks politely.

You feel bad for having him come all the way out here, taking him away from his friends in the middle of summer to have him build furniture.

“Thank you, Bradley, that’s very sweet of you.” You stop outside of the kitchen, figuring that the least you could do is supply him with free alcohol for his troubles. “Can I get you something to drink? I have beer, wine, or lemonade.”

“Beer’s fine.” He smiles and leans against the kitchen doorframe as you step into the kitchen to get him his drink. It’s as you’re pulling a can from the fridge that you notice just how big he is. His head isn’t that far from the top of the door frame, that door frame’s at least six and a half feet tall. He’s broad too.

Your eyes are on him for a second too long, the fridge door hanging open as you stare at him.

“Did you want a glass? Ice?” You ask as you set the can on the kitchen island. Rooster shakes his head and steps forward to take it.

“No thanks, this is perfect.” He smiles once more. Isn’t it? Inviting him here was a bad idea. You know that now. Now that the only thing stopping you from tackling him to the ground and putting your mouth on every inch of that tanned, muscled skin is this kitchen island between the two of you.

“So, what did you need my help with?” He taps the top of the can for make sure it won’t fizz too much when he opens it, then pulls back the tab. You watch the way the material of that ugly shirt tightens around his bicep as his arm bends to bring the beer to his mouth. His lips cover the edge of the can. Then his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he takes a sip.

You watch the condensation drip from the bottom of the can onto the reddened skin of his chest, the droplet sliding below the fabric of his tank top.

Badideabadideabadidea. This was a bad idea.

This is going to make a funny story for your friends to hear. You inviting over one of your students, who you know has a crush on you, making him do your dirty work and then checking him out whilst he works. This is a HR nightmare. It might make a funny story someday, but right now, alarm bells are going off in your head.

You close your mouth. Find the neurological function to make yourself nod. Lift your hand and tap the counter to remind yourself to move.

“Right,” You’re back in the room. You’re Commander Simpson. He’s a Lieutenant. That’s all. Rooster doesn’t seem to have noticed your temporary mindlessness, “Um… I was trying to figure out how to build some furniture, and the instructions are all pictures - and I thought back to how you said you were a visual learner, and um…”

He watches you, lips quirking as he waits for you to finish your sentence. This is ridiculous. You should not be getting this hot and bothered over someone who was in high school when you were pregnant for the first time. You collect yourself.

“I was just wondering if you might be able to help me figure it out.” You finalise calmly.

“Sure, I’m great at this kinda thing,” Rooster agrees, “I love building stuff.”

He does. Genuinely. But truthfully, you could’ve asked him to clean the gutters and he would’ve done so with a smile on his face.

You’ll never know how hard it was for him to try to control his expression as he left the beach twenty minutes earlier. The urge to grin as big as possible was truly difficult to combat.

“Okay, great. I’ll show you what we’re working with.” You step out from behind the kitchen island and nod for him to follow you. He trails behind, looking around at the place as you lead him. It’s nice. Much nicer than his apartment near the beach with Jake and Javy. That’s kind of a man cave. He imagines you wouldn’t like it too much.

His presence behind you is heavy as you lead him upstairs. He hopes you’re headed to the master bedroom. His eyes are still on your ass as you walk up ahead of him. Bradley’s brain is working in overdrive right now, trying to figure out how to make a move without freaking you out. Without overstepping.

You stop at the end of the hall. Point to Taylor’s room on the left, then Dylan’s room on the right.

“You have two kids?” He knows this. He saw the picture on your desk. They’re cute kids. You hope that this puts him off.

“Uh-huh. Taylor’s five, Dylan’s eleven.” You tell him. His face doesn’t change, his expression remains calm and positive. You fight back a scowl.

“Wow. I can’t believe you have an eleven year old.” He tells you.

You stare at him, expressionless. Maybe for a second too long. You stop once he shifts uncomfortably and scrunches his brows slightly, worried that he has said the wrong thing.

“I just mean, because-“

“Rooster.” You interrupt, raising your palm to stop him. He shuts up. You shake your head slightly. “I didn’t ask you to come over so that you could flirt with me. I’m flattered, but this is not going to happen. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” He agrees. The look in his eye lets you know that he doesn’t actually agree. He passes his beer into his other hand, “But I can’t promise not to tell you how pretty you look, Mrs. Simpson.”

“Commander.” You know he knows that. He’s testing you to see how committed you are to the identity of being a married woman. “And easy on the Simpson. I’m still debating getting rid of it.” - and you just played right into his hands.

Bradley smiles with his back to you as he steps into Taylor’s room and looks around, then composes himself before he looks at you over his shoulder. “What’s your maiden name?”

You pause, leaning against the doorframe. You debate not telling him. It would set a principle, but would but ultimately pointless. He could just check in work on Monday. Your maiden name is clear as day in your Top Gun class portrait. So, you lean your head against the doorframe and you tell him.

He nods. Then, he says your full name. Your first name and your maiden name together.

“I like it. Doesn’t sound as scary as Commander Simpson.” He decides. He crouches down and grabs the sheet of instructions from the floor, mulling over the pictures. You watch him. Beer in one hand, instructions in the other. Sunglasses on his head. Gold cross necklace dangling between his collarbones. Your gaze lingers there.

You wouldn’t have pegged him as a man of faith.

“Maybe I’ll stick with Commander Simpson, then.” You answer. He looks up at you through his lashes and smiles.

He shrugs his broad shoulders slightly. “Hyde works too.”

You chuckle. Then nod towards the pieces of wood on the floor. Time to get this conversation back on track. “The beds are the most important thing, because they’ll be here tomorrow and obviously they’re going to need somewhere to sleep.”

“Sure, makes sense.” Rooster agrees. He shrugs the Hawaiian shirt off of his shoulders and drops it to the floor. The way his eyes meet yours as the fabric falls to the ground tells you that that was an extremely tactical move. Your lip quirks. He might as well be flexing for how much he’s trying to impress you right now. “Got it.”

You nod your head, pushing yourself off of the doorframe as he settles down to sit on the floor of your daughter’s new room. He grabs the base of the bed and pulls it up to rest on his knees, then examines the bags of screws. Right to it. He makes quick work of figuring out which pieces are which and which screws he needs.

You watch for a moment. It’s clear from this glimpse of him at work that you’ve been neglecting your more personal needs these last few weeks. That’s all that this is. That’s the only rational explanation for this. You haven’t slept with Beau in two months now, and you’ve been so busy, and you just haven’t felt like taking care of yourself. Clearly, after Bradley leaves, you need to spend some time alone to tend to those needs. That’ll clear your head.

Once you have made this decision, you bring yourself to stop staring at the way the muscles in his arms move as he begins to put the bed together.

“Should I stay and help?” You ask. Is it wrong to treat him like a handyman? - Probably. But you really can’t stay and watch much more of this. It’s regressive, honestly, what seeing a man at work does to you.

“No, this won’t take me long. If you’ve got other stuff you need to be doing, I’ve got this handled.” Rooster looks up at you, big brown eyes and all, and answers you with a smile. You nod your head.

“Alright. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.” You tell him. You turn and head downstairs.

Without the added pressure of wanting to physically assault furniture, you actually manage to make a good amount of progress. You empty the remainder of the truck, even if that means filling your garage with boxes for later. They’re all things that can wait. After that, you finish getting the living room unpacked and decluttered. It actually looks worthy of being seen by the time you’re done.

About an hour after you originally left him, you decide to check on Rooster. You grab him another cold beer from the fridge and pad barefoot through the house. A dangerous game when there are loose screws around. As you walk up the stairs, your brows furrow. The hallway is suspiciously tidy. There aren’t screws on the floor anymore.

Only, Bradley isn’t where you left him. Your lips part in surprise as you step into Taylor’s room. Not only is her bed built, but so is everything else. The wardrobe, the dresser, her colouring desk. Her curtains are even up. Granted, this is all flatpack furniture. It’s probably pretty easy to put together if you know what you’re doing. You understand that he did this just to impress you. Well, you’re impressed.

You press a hand over your mouth. You can’t help but compare him to Beau. This would’ve taken Beau weeks to get around to. When Taylor was born, her nursery wasn’t finished until a week after her first birthday, and that was after you finished it with your dad on Labour Day weekend. Beau was just always too busy.

“Rooster?” You call out, wanting to thank him. Maybe wanting to kiss him a little bit too. You shake your head.

“In here.” He calls back. You turn and cross the hallway into Dylan’s room. Dylan’s bed is built and Bradley’s working on his desk now. Your jaw hangs open.

Your eyes fall immediately to the folded Hawaiian shirt on the floor, and the tank top that has joined it, messily discarded on top of it. Your eyes land on him. He’s on his knees, not looking at you, attaching a metal leg to the top part of the desk. The gold cross on the chain hangs loosely over his collarbones as he works. He’s leaning forwards slightly, brows furrowed as he focuses.

He knows you’re standing there. He knows what he’s doing.

You’re grateful he’s so focused, because it means he doesn’t notice the way your eyes linger on his bare chest. It isn’t your fault. The way the muscles in his arms contract each time he turns the screwdriver would have anyone staring, you’re sure of it.

Finally, he lifts his head and looks up at you through his lashes. He looks at the beer in your hand, then back at your face, “Is that for me?”

“Yeah.” You realise, letting out a breath as you extend the drink towards him. He sets the screwdriver down and stands to take it. You watch as he brings himself to his feet, standing in just jean shorts, his boxers peeking out just slightly from the waistband.

Your eyes trail up, towards the soft line of hair on his stomach, to the small patch on his chest, stopping to admire each ab on the way up. Rooster watches the way you look him over. He bites his cheek to keep from grinning. Or worse, talking and ruining this moment.

“I just wanted to say how much I appreciate you helping me today, you’re — you’re a lifesaver, really.” You breathe, folding your arms over your chest as you lean against the doorframe to your son’s room.

Rooster shrugs his shoulders like he isn’t thrilled with the praise he’s receiving, “Happy to help. Plus, like I said — I love this stuff. It’s kinda therapeutic. Some people do puzzles, I build flat-pack furniture.”

You laugh softly and this time he does grin at you, pleased with himself for making you smile. There’s a beat of silence between the two of you. He doesn’t want to speak again, he’s worried he won’t be able to stop and he’ll scare you off with word vomit.

“I’m almost finished with this room, if it’s alright?” He nods back down to the half constructed desk. You nod your head quickly and take a step back.

“Sure, of course.” You breathe out. “Um… well, I’ve got a few things left to unpack in my room. So, I’ll - I’ll be right across the hall. Okay?”

Well, now he knows where your room is. And you just invited him to head over once he’s done in here. He nods his head, chewing on his cheek for a moment, “Sure thing.”

“Okay.” You turn and walk towards your room and shake your head. This is ridiculous. You’ve never been floored by a set of abs before. You roll your eyes at your own behaviour as you push the door half shut behind you.

Rooster finishes Dylan’s room. Desk, dresser, hangs the curtains. Then, he walks the length of the hallway and nudges your door open, knocking as he opens it. You were expecting him to take longer. You’re sitting on the floor, flicking through a photo album that you came across.

“Finished already?” You ask, looking up at him in the door way. You notice that he has failed to put his shirt back on. You look him over, then look back down at the photo album and turn the page away from your wedding pictures. Rooster crosses the room without waiting for permission, and crouches beside you. He mhm’s and tilts his head to look at the pictures.

You turn your head and scrunch your brows, fighting back a smile at his sudden confidence.

“Is this your daughter?” Rooster asks as he points towards the toddler on the bottom left. You smile softly.

“My son.” You correct. Dylan was a mama’s boy growing up. Mama had longer hair, Dylan wanted longer hair. Beau had taken him for a haircut before his first day of Kindergarten. Dylan had loved his big-boy hair but you had cried for hours. He looked too grown up, too much like his dad.

“Look at those freckles.” Rooster smiles. Your eyes are on him. He chuckles softly as his attention turns to a picture of Dylan with Spider-Man face paint. Realising that you aren’t looking at the album anymore, Rooster turns his head to look at you. He’s kneeling right next to where you’re sitting. He’s far, far too close.

You look back to the album and flip the page. Rooster gasps.

“Wow, look at you!” He leans in closer, his bare shoulder brushing against yours. You look down at the vacation picture he’s staring at. It’s you with Dylan from nine years ago. You’re in Florida in this picture. You’re at the beach. You’re in a bikini, your hip is popped out and you’re laughing towards the camera.

Dylan’s almost two in the picture. You’re both down by the waves, walking back up towards the dry sand, each of you with one hand on the handle of his bucket filled with water. You remember that day so clearly. The water was to fill the moat around the sandcastle you and Beau had spent hours building, with extremely minor assistance from your toddler son.

That had been such a fun day.

“He looks just like you.” Rooster smiles. You aren’t sure yet if Rooster knows who your husband is. You’ve never hidden your relationship with Beau, but in the interest of preserving your work-life balance, you don’t exactly publicise it either. Everyone always says Dylan looks just like his dad. All he got from you was his smile.

“Can - May I?” He remembers that day in your office as his hand reaches past you for the edge of the page. You watch his hand pass by you. This can’t go on. You grab his wrist, wrapping your fingers around tanned skin.

“Rooster, I know what you’re doing.”

He looks at you, caught. Then, he smiles, a mischievous glint in his eye, “What am I doing?”

You could tackle him. Space. You need space. You push yourself to your feet, taking a few steps back to put some distance between the two of you, “You come over here all sweaty and… ugh, and then you take your shirt off and you’re so helpful and polite — and you just need to get it through your head that this is not going to happen!”

He watches you. Bradley tries not to smile. He nods seriously, like he understands. He’s not even on the same chapter, much less the same page.

“Okay? Ever!” You reiterate.

“Ever?” Rooster’s lips quirk. He tries to stop himself from smiling, but fails. The twinkle in his eye makes you want to scream.

“Ever!” You bite back. “It can’t. I’m your instructor, we have a professional relationship and it’ll never be anything more. That’s that.”

He nods. Everything about what he says next tells you that he understands what you have said. The gentle okay, the competent nodding. But it’s the look in his eye that tells you he thinks he still has a chance.

“Stop looking at me like that!”

“Like what?” He laughs, shrugging his stupid, strong, broad shoulders at you. He pushes himself up from the ground, still grinning at you.

“You know like what!”

“I just think you wouldn’t regret giving me a chance.”

“Every guy your age thinks they’re good in bed. They’re not.” You squint your eyes at him. Maybe you’re trying to convince yourself more than him. Nonetheless, he listens. Which makes it even worse. Beau would ignore you until you calmed down. Not Bradley. He wants to hear this. “Why would I put my entire reputation, everything I’ve worked for through my career, on the line for a five minute fuck with a kid who probably hasn’t made a woman cum in his entire life?”

“I’ve made women cum.” Bradley answers defensively. He holds himself back from telling you how many times. Because he knows exactly how many times.

“Every guy thinks they have.” You’re still dubious. This is still not happening.

“I have!” He insists. “Y’know, I’d be happy to show you-“

He takes a step forward, you take three steps back and point a finger at him accusingly. He raises his palms in surrender.

“Damn it, Bradley — what is the matter with you? - Why can’t you just go point those puppy-dog eyes at someone your own age?”

His lip quirks. That might not have been a compliment, but he appreciates the fact that you think he has cute eyes anyway. He licks his bottom lip, tilting his head. His eyes fall down to look you over before he finally shrugs and explains himself.

“I think you’re beautiful. I think you’re funny, you’re smart — actually, I can’t stop thinking about you.” He admits. He isn’t sheepish about it at all. He looks you in the eye as he says it. “And I think that I’m pretty good in bed. But… if I’m not, then maybe you could teach me a few things.”

This time he takes another step toward you and you stay where you are. He takes another step. Then another. A few more. Until he’s standing in front of you. He reaches out tenderly and touches your waist, stroking the curve above your hip with his thumb.

“You know I’m a fast learner.” He whispers.

You look up at him. Those soft, longing, puppy-dog eyes are staring down at you. Waiting for your answer. You do know that he’s a fast learner. He’s an excellent student. He doesn’t feel the need to say anything else. That’s good, because if he had, you might’ve combusted.

There’s silence between you as you look over his features. Bradley knows that this is make or break. He leans forwards, closes his eyes.

“Ah- stop.” He jolts and pulls back, blinking at you, afraid he’s done something wrong. Your first instinct is to shove him. The rational side of your brain wins this argument and you don’t push him, but you still need him — and his fucking perfect torso — away from you. “Sit down.”

Bradley hesitates. His brow furrowed slightly, lips parting like he might have something to say. You point at the edge of your bed sternly. Ultimately, the teacher’s pet in him takes control. He stumbles back and sits on the edge of your bed with his hands in his lap. He smiles at you.

It takes real willpower to not comment on how soft your sheets are. He wonders where you got them from. His aren’t anywhere near this nice.

You relish in the distance, like it finally gives you room to breathe. Your lungs fill and deflate a few times over, grateful for the sense of calm each breath brings you.

He’s just looking at you. Strong and tanned, a grown man, sitting on your bed and waiting for you to tell him he isn’t in trouble.

“Talk me through it.”

“What?” Bradley seems confused. There’s still such eagerness behind those eyes. He wants to do what you ask of him, he just doesn’t know what you want from him. This isn’t entirely his fault. You know you’ve been giving him somewhat mixed signals.

So, you’re as clear as you can be.

“Tell me what you’d do to me,” You watch his eyes glint with excitement. He smiles slightly. “If I let you. I’ll decide if I think it’s worth it.”

You watch him shift. He leans back on his palms, parting his knees a little as he takes a moment to unashamedly look you over. It feels good to do so. He’s tired of having to steal glances at you during class. Truthfully, last week he had a kink in his neck for two days because of how long he had spent with his head tilted, watching the way you looked bending over your desk to grab something.

“I’m not the best with words.” He admits sheepishly. You watch a gorgeous terracotta spread onto his cheeks, warming his chest.

You maintain your cool composure. You know that you’re the one with all of the power here. He’ll never know you’re bluffing. You fold your arms over your chest. “How about you try, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Rooster breathes out, clearly excited by the fact that you just pulled rank on him. Your lip twitches at this knowledge. “I-I would… alright, fuck, um… Well, I haven’t stopped thinking about tasting you since I first saw you.” He shifts but doesn’t stand, he swallows nervously. You bite your cheek, not wanting to give away your feelings about what he just said yet.

“So first,” He leans back on his palm, breathes steadily and continues, “I’d kiss you. Show you how good I am at that.” He grins, amused and half-embarrassed. He bites his lip and fiddles with the ring on his finger. “I-I’d…”

You watch.

It’s clear that his mind is in overdrive. It’s not that he doesn’t know what he wants to do to you, it’s that he doesn’t know what he wants to do first. You swallow at the realisation.

Bradley’s staring at you and trying to ignore his cock stirring in his shorts as he thinks of you naked. Under him. On top of him. In front of him. He shifts slightly. He doesn’t know whether to start thinking about something less sexy, or to keep talking.

He doesn’t have time to decide.

You rush forwards, pressing a knee into the mattress, swinging your other around his hip, grabbing the back of his neck as your ass rests against his thighs.

You grab the back of his neck, pulling him forwards until your mouth is on his. He’s been waiting for this, and he doesn’t waste a second in making sure you know you’ve made the right decision. His arm snakes around your waist, pulling you tight against him.

It’s desperate and fast as his other hand slides up into your hair, controlling the way your mouth moves against him.

Beau hated facial hair. He found it untidy and unprofessional. You loved the feeling of scruff on your cheeks and your thighs but it was a rare occasion that you experienced that with Beau. With Bradley, that stupid 80s moustache is everything you’ve been missing.

His hands skim down your sides, gliding over the curve of your ass and pulling you forward. He grinds his hips forwards against you and squeezes at your backside, groaning gently against your lips.

You relax in his arms, lips parting just enough for him to slip his tongue into your mouth, caressing it against yours.

Your fingertips skim over his muscles shoulders, down onto his back. His lips move against yours as your hands explore his torso. You rake your nails along his shoulder blades. Revel in the feeling of him holding you, kissing you.

Bradley stands and turns, placing one knee onto the mattress, holding you tighter against him as he lowers you down onto it. He settles between your legs, rolling his hips forward against your core. Your dress bunches up around your waist as he grinds against you.

“You always smell so good.” He murmurs affectionately against your mouth before lowering his head to kiss softly at your throat. He slides his hand up along the length of your neck, taking your jaw between his index finger and thumb, keeping you where he needs you. Your head lulls back willingly against the sheets, exposing your neck to him.

He works soft kisses along the length of your throat, his fingertips skimming along the soft skin of your thighs, his hips grinding forwards. It hits you like a tonne of bricks when he pulls back to look at you. Those pretty, brown eyes.

The gold cross dangles forwards off of his collarbones, grazing your lips. You open your mouth and stick your tongue out, letting the metal fall against your tongue. Bradley watches, his arms planted on either side of his head, a soft smile toying at his lips.

“Fuck,” He breathes out. His hands push up along your thighs, squeezing every inch or so until he’s at your hips. His eyes flicker downwards and linger between your legs. He swallows, “You’re so sexy.”

You lift your chin, tilting your head slightly as your eyes fall down to admire the way he looks kneeling between your legs.

His fingers reach the edge of your dress. He runs the fabric between his fingertips and looks back up at you. Asking silently for permission. You give a soft nod and lift yourself so that he can get rid of it. Bradley’s hands move knowledgeably, firm on your sides as he guides the fabric up, up, until it’s not covering you anymore.

He drops the dress down onto the floor and sits back on his knees.

You stretch your arms out above your head, extending them across the mattress behind you. His eyes glint excitedly. “Is this what you had in mind?” You breathe out.

Bradley grins as his fingertips curl around your hips. He tugs you closer to him, grabbing and squeezing at the soft skin of your thighs. He shakes his head, “So much better than I could’ve imagined.”

He moves, leaning down and pressing his lips to your collarbone. His mouth moves slowly, firmly. His tongue grazes your skin as he pulls away. Your instinct is to close your eyes, to give in to the warm feeling his mouth sends through you — but you have to see this. You can’t take your eyes off of him. Each kiss ends with his tongue grazing your skin and a soft sigh slipping your lips.

His lips work along your bare torso, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses in his path. He pauses when he reaches your breasts, squeezing them in his hands.

Bradley groans, grazing his teeth along your right breast and he kneads the left in his hand. His hips grind forwards against the mattress, searching for friction, as he takes your nipple into his mouth. You exhale softly, sliding your fingers up into his sandy curls, keeping his mouth on you.

“Mmm.” Bradley’s heart soars as the sound leaves your mouth. He’s been daydreaming for four weeks about what you would sound like, and it’s so much better than he could have ever hoped to hear it in real life. He’s spurred on, even more desperate to please you now, flicking his tongue against the sensitive bud, pinching the other between his index and thumb. He pulls away, grazing his teeth lightly over the skin - just enough to make you shiver.

Then his trail of filthy kisses continues. His nose grazes your sternum as his mouth works towards your navel. His hands are strong and capable, holding you in place by your ribs. You remind yourself that he’s one of the best fighter pilots in the world - behind you, of course he knows what to do with his hands. You’ve been underestimating him.

Perhaps on purpose to deny yourself the same luxury of daydreaming. It’s almost dismaying to know that you’ll be aching for this feeling again once it’s gone. Part of you was hoping that this would confirm to you that he’s just a boy posing as a man - a kid with no idea how to please a woman. His eyes are on you as he sticks out his tongue and trails it in a line across your stomach. From your ribs, over your bellybutton, ending with a desperate and open mouthed kiss to your bikini line.

You think that he’s going to go all the way. His hands slide down to your hips, fingertips curling into the edges of your panties on either side. He groans softly, closing his eyes. Then, his mouth works more kisses, dirty and possessive, against your hips, lips nudging at the hem of your panties. But you don’t feel like you’re kept waiting. If he told you that this was the main event, you think you would be okay with that.

It’s odd. You can feel his eagerness in his movements, his desperation to please in the way his tongue moves against your skin. It’s been a long time since someone has burned for you in the way that Bradley so clearly does.

“There’s so many things I want to do to you.” Bradley mutters against your skin.

“So, impress me.” You tell him. Your confidence is false. You just need him to think you’ve still got your sense about you, when truthfully, if you had any - you wouldn’t be in bed with one of your pilots.

Bradley lifts his head. His chin grazes the edge of your panties as he does. He smiles up at you. “Yes, ma’am.”

You chuckle softly. Rooster’s fingers pull gently at your underwear, he guides it down just an inch or so. His mouth is on your hips, leaving kisses against each one, pulling slowly at the fabric, moving his mouth with it. His eyes are on you, smooth honey and shining amber. His mouth works alone your pubic bone, soft kisses, gentle flicks of the tongue.

Then his mouth is on your clit as soon as it’s exposed to him. It isn’t rushed. It’s just what he needs, what he’s been waiting for. He groans against you, working his tongue in soft circles around the throbbing bundle of nerves. His eyes are still on you. Your eyes are closed. He doesn’t stop what he’s doing as he admires the way your tits rise and fall with each deep breath you take.

His hands trail from your hips, up and along your sides. His hands roam your skin. Move up and back down again. He revels in the feeling of you under his fingertips, on the tip of his tongue.

“S-Shit.” The realisation is all-consuming. You don’t mean to say anything until the word is already out there. This is not the last time you’re going to let this man into your bed, is it?

Rooster hums contentedly at your praise, his hands slide back down to your thighs to squeeze at the muscle. He pulls back just long enough to get your underwear the rest of the way down your legs, guiding your right leg over his shoulder as he settles back down into his previous position. His hand grabs at the back of your left thigh, he lifts it up and out of his way.

You aren’t struggling against him, but you can feel his grip on you. He’s stronger than you gave him credit for.

He’s gentle between your legs, pressing his mouth firmly against your core and working his tongue against you. His free hand slides between your legs, he dips the tip of his index finger into you, then slides it in up to the knuckle and curls. You moan softly, grabbing ahold of those beautiful umber curls, ensuring that he doesn’t get ahead of himself and lose pace with his mouth.

“That’s it.” You whisper. Rooster looks up at you. “Just like that, that’s good.”

Told you so. It’s written across his face. Luckily for you, you can’t see that. He slips his ring finger into you alongside his middle whilst his tongue works confidently along your core and back up to your clit. He lets go of your thigh and rests his forearm across your stomach, keeping you nice and still for him.

He scissors his fingers inside of you, making you gasp softly. You tug at his roots, he moans against your clit. You both shiver. Rooster’s tongue flattens as he drags it along your core. He pulls his fingers out and puts them immediately to work, taking over the pace on your clit. He buries his face between your legs, curling his tongue into you.

“O-Oh.” You can’t pretend you aren’t surprised. It’s like every single sound that slips your lips spurs him on more. Your grip in his hair tightens with the knot in your stomach. You press your heel hard into the mattress, shifting your hips against his mouth. He presses down hard on your middle, keeping your firmly in place.

You moan, head lulling back against your sheets.

“I’m almost there.” You breathe out. You can’t remember the last time you came from oral alone. Rooster groans softly, his mouth and fingers switch place again. He can’t resist looking up at you, the wound up look on your face makes his shorts grow impossibly tighter. His fingers fuck into you, curling and twisting. Youre gasping, willing yourself not to cry out his name - you figure that’ll probably send the wrong message.

This whole thing is sending the wrong message.

Fuck it. You moan his name softly, his grip on your hip tightening in response. It’s toe-curling. You’re busy trying to catch your breath during your comedown when you remind yourself to loosen your grip in his hair. He doesn’t seem to mind one bit, grinning as he peppers kisses across your thighs.

He unbuttons his shorts, kicking them off and moving back up to kiss you on the mouth. You grab hurriedly at the back of his neck. He grinds himself against your core, his straining cock grazing your soaked folds. Rooster slips his tongue into your mouth, letting you taste yourself on him. He guides one of your thighs up around his waist, then pauses to palm over his cock, trying to ease his discomfort.

“Where do you keep your condoms?” You’re half grateful that he’s smart enough to wear one. His question snaps you back to reality. Your eyes widen. He winces internally for breaking you from the moment. He feels you grow more tense against him. He strokes delicately against your waist to ease your tension.

“I don’t have condoms, I wasn’t - I don’t do this.” You motion between the two of you and sigh. Rooster holds up one finger. He stands and grabs his shorts, dipping his hand into the back pocket. You feel like this is a sign. Maybe not from god, you don’t know whether you believe in this kind of divine intervention. Maybe from your Grandmother. Some kind of horrible punishment for letting yourself fall for this.

Doubt fills you. You absolutely should not be doing this. Beau received the divorce papers yesterday, and here you are - in bed with someone else. Not only someone else, but someone in your class.

He pulls a condom from his wallet and stands upright to push his boxers down. Your mouth goes dry as he steps out of them and tears the foil. He isn’t looking at you, focused on the latex instead. You’re glad.

Every ounce of doubt that you had just left your body. When Rooster lifts his eyes again, you have moved. You’re pushing yourself towards the edge of the bed. His hand drags from the base of his cock to the tip again and back down as he watches you near him. He watches, taking his lip between his teeth as you look up at him and lean forwards.

Five weeks of daydreaming of this moment hasn’t been enough to prepare him for the sight of his cock on your tongue. He swallows, reaching out and grabbing a fistful of your hair to keep it out of your face. Your lips wrap around him, the taste of latex on your tongue as you work your mouth around his length. Your fingertips follow the line of soft, almost blonde hair from his pelvis, up onto his stomach and onto his pecs.

You’re glad he had a condom, because there’s no way you’re backing out when you’re already in this deep - and it would have been truly shameless to let him fuck you raw. You are glad. But, you can’t help but find that it was either an extremely presumptuous choice, or a signal that he is no stranger to casual hookups. Either answer displeases you.

To signal this to him, you use your nails as your hand trails back down the same path it had moved up. Rooster watches faint red lines form in the wake of your fingernails, trailing the length of his entire chest. His cock twitches on your tongue. Interesting.

“Fuck, I have to be inside of you.” He breathes out, tugging at your roots. Your eyes widen slightly at the action, you pull back and wipe the corner of your mouth. He wastes no time in grabbing your hips, lifting and dropping you more into the centre of the mattress. His lifting technique is poor, he’s going to give himself a bad back by his mid-30s.

You open your mouth to tell him this, then close it again. It’s not the time.

“Ah.” You press your foot against his thigh and he stops immediately. He’s getting a little too cocky for your liking. “Say please.”

Rooster’s brows scrunch for a fraction of a second. Your eyes bore into each other’s. His lip quirks slightly.

“Please.” He says gently.

You smirk, lifting your foot and instead resting it against his shoulder, parting your legs for him. He lets out a heavy breath, almost a groan of relief, then moves forward. He kisses your knee as he shifts closer, planting his palm beside your head, his other hand guiding his cock between your legs. His eyes are on yours as he presses the tip of his cock into you and then pulls back. You narrow your eyes at him. His lip twitches as he sinks into you, just a few inches at first.

He squeezes at your hip, rocking his hips gently back and forth to let you adjust to his size. You moan softly as his cock grazes a nerve inside of you, letting out a contented sigh.

“Fuck.” Rooster curses. His fingertips whiten against your hipbone as his pelvis presses flush against yours. His stomach presses to yours, your leg over his shoulder letting him fill you as deeply as possible. He leans his head forwards and presses his lips to yours, licking into your mouth. “Fuck.”

You arch your back, pushing your chest up against his as he fills you up. There’s a silent exchange between the two of you. Rooster takes the hint, picking up the pace, rocking his hips to fill you harder and faster.

He’s relentless, dragging against your walls as he bottoms out again and again. It’s impressive, really. You’re doing your best not to look like a completely fucked out mess under him. He’s mesmerised, his lip between his teeth as he watches your face. Even now, you’re so cool, staring up at him.

Your lips are parted and you’re moaning for him, he knows he’s making you feel good, but this is different than when he sleeps with girls his own age. You’ve still got an air of control about you. He likes it. He sits back on his knees, grabbing your hips with both hands so that he has more power to fuck you harder.

“A-Ah… oh, fuck.” You moan out, grabbing hard at his thigh for leverage.

Rooster groans, sliding his hands along your sides, cupping your breasts in his hands.

Beau wasn’t much of a moaner. You’ve been missing out. The sound of Rooster’s hoarse, deep, desperate groans would’ve been a fine form of foreplay because they’re bringing you closer and closer to coming for him just as much as his cock is. His thumb swipes across your nipple, pinching the bud gently. You swallow hard, pushing your hips against his to meet his thrusts.

He fills you over and over. You’re doing your best not to compare him to Beau. He’s doing a good job of keeping your mind off of your husband. Ex-husband. You’re going to have to get used to that.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Rooster murmurs, squeezing your tits in his hands, punctuating his declaration with a sharp thrust. You gasp, arching your back away from the mattress. “So fucking sexy.”

Your eyes close for a few seconds, focusing on the intensity of the orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. Rooster moves his hand between your legs, he pushes down gently on your pelvis, circling your clit with his thumb. His thrusts remain at the same pace - relentless - fucking you until you can barely keep your eyes open.

His name spills off of your tongue so naturally, over and over. You’re amazed - later you’ll be embarrassed - at how easy it was for your brain to accept that this is happening, and with him of all people.

Rooster watches as you near your climax. His lip between his teeth. That gold chain bouncing on his collarbones. His curls sticking to his forehead just slightly. The sun-soaked redness on his chest and shoulders has deepened now that his body temperature has risen. He’s gorgeous.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck. God, you’re fucking incredible.” He pants. His thrusts become more desperate. Hard and fast, but not rushed. Bradley’s thumb continues at the same steady pace, working your clit until you’re gasping for air. He watches, mesmerised. Your chest heaves, tits rising and falling with each breath. Your eyes are screwed shut, lips parted, moaning. You’re pressing your nails into his thigh.

He has to close his eyes. He pants hard, trying to ground himself.

Your walls clench around him, squeezing his cock. He whimpers, leaning forwards and pressing his chest firmly to yours. You grab the back of his neck to keep him against you, shivering from the unfaltering stimulation. Rooster slips an arm under your back, pulling you tight against his body. He manages a few more hard thrusts before he’s faltering, moaning against the crook of your neck as he fills the condom.

Bradley rolls off to lay at your side, breathing hard.

“Christ.” He mutters, letting out a contented sigh. He reaches out and grabs your arm, tugging hard. You hit his chest, brows furrowing as your cheek smushes up against his pec. He wraps both arms around you and rests his head on top of yours.

“Oh, um…” You’re trying to pretend you aren’t trembling. You haven’t had an orgasm like that in a while. “I don’t… I-I’m not a huge cuddler.”

Rooster lifts his head as you wriggle out of his arms. His brows furrow slightly. You can tell he’s disappointed by that revelation. You stare at him. “Huh. I love cuddling.” He explains.

You nod, pushing yourself up until you’re sitting. You look across at the person laying in your bed. He’s stretching his arms up above his head, eyes squeezed shut. He relaxes again with a sigh and turns his head to look at you.

He smiles sweetly. Like he didn’t just rail you.

You smooth down your hair a little and then move to stand up. This was a mistake.

Rooster catches his breath first. He doesn’t seem to notice your inner turmoil. He takes the condom off carefully and ties it, “Do you have a trash can?”

“There’s one in the bathroom.”

When he returns, you’re back in your dress, scraping your hair back into a makeshift ponytail. He leans against the doorframe to your bathroom, clearly not ashamed that he’s severely underdressed.

“Look, Bradley,” You reach up and scratch at the back of your neck nervously. He’s naked in front of you, watching you shift awkwardly on your feet. There’s no easy way to say this, and you’re a little out of practice. “This… was fun. But-“

He nods his head, moving his hand to cover his modesty.

“Sure. Got it. Our secret.” He agrees, nodding his head.

You nod, ready to agree with him, then pause. Your mouth opens and closes again. Then, you sigh. “Well, yes. But - also, this can’t happen again. You know that, right?”

He fights back the urge to smile. He nods his head seriously.

“Oh. Sure, that’s okay.” He has a feeling you’ll warm up to the idea, especially as you get to know him better. He swallows, then looks down pointedly. You realise his boxers are on the floor beside your foot.

You crouch and pick them up, handing them to him quickly. You watch as he steps into them and adjusts himself, then grabs his shorts to do the same. He fixes his hair, running his fingers through it and shaking to spring it back into its usual style.

“Alright. Um… I’ll see you on Monday.” Rooster decides. “I know the way out, I’ll just grab my, uh, my shirt and stuff first.”

It’s awkward already. You nod nervously. You hope that this tension doesn’t carry over into the classroom - or worse, into the air. You’re scolding yourself right up to the point that you hear the front door close behind him. What the fuck was that?

You stand alone in your room and press a hand over your mouth. Holy shit. Monday is not going to be easy.

…

Tag List:

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[thedeviltohisangel]

I Heard From The Heavens//3

He had been so proud to show her their names on the title. Had felt so proud when he carried her through the front door. Had never felt happier than he did waking up to her and coming home to her and loving her. Her father had tried to stop them from doing it. Stop Bradley from feeling the peace he had since moving here. He would never forgive him for that.

Bradley & Daphne’s Infinite Playlist: HUMBLE. by Kendrick Lamar

masterlist is my url/writing or on ao3 under the same username

based off the request for more on the beach house in Florida mentioned in chapter one. please send more!

“My dad called today,” she whispered. They were both coming down from their orgasmic highs, Bradley closing his eyes as the shapes she traced on his chest lulled him to sleep.

“Do we have to talk about your dad right now?” he groaned. He was in the alluring space between sex and sleep. The topic threatened to pull him out of it.

“We do. He’s coming to visit next week.”

“What?” That didn’t just pull him out of it, it jolted him out of it. Bradley shot up straight, startling Daphne with his quickness. “I thought we agreed-”

“Bradley-”

“No, Daph, this is bullshit.” A few months ago, once her and Bradley had settled on the house they were currently in, she had gone to her father. She knew he had kept a bank account for after her graduation from college when she would undoubtedly be looking for a foundation to start her new life. Pete had thought it would be used to furnish an apartment or buy a new wardrobe for legal internships. He hadn’t thought his only child, his precious daughter, would want it to help with a down payment for a beach cottage with her boyfriend. 

“I’m trying to forgive him,” she pleaded as Bradley stood from the bed, pulling on sweatpants with ferocity, and stormed out of their room. 

“Trying to forgive the man who pulled my papers for the academy. Trying to forgive the man who breaks your heart every fucking time you talk to him.” She followed him into the kitchen where he was splashing water from the sink onto his face. That was what bothered him more. Sure he would always be angry at Maverick for denying him the opportunity to advance in his career quicker. But when Daphne had called him in tears to say her father wouldn’t let her use the money for the house. That she didn’t have enough to cover half of the down payment, Bradley had decided the man wasn’t going to be in his life anymore. It was short sighted considering he loved his daughter and Daphne had a short memory when it came to people she loved but he couldn’t understand how he could stand in their way. 

“You’re being dramatic,” she scoffed. “He’s still my dad and I still love him.” Bradley had covered the rest of the payment from the account his mother had left him. He had been so proud to show her their names on the title. Had felt so proud when he carried her through the front door. Had never felt happier than he did waking up to her and coming home to her and loving her. Her father had tried to stop them from doing it. Stop Bradley from feeling the peace he had since moving here. He would never forgive him for that.

“He didn’t want us to have this, Daphne! This house and everything it represents for us! He tried to prevent us from being happy!” he yelled as he gestured wildly around him. “Forgive me for not being so willing to just move on from that.” A quick glance at the clock told her they were never going to solve this and get any sleep. In fact, she didn’t think they would ever solve this at all. She had convinced herself that until her father and Bradley had it out with each other and truly solved the tension simmering closer and closer to the surface, they would have this fight over and over again.

“I’d like to go to sleep now,” she spoke quietly, “I have an important meeting with my advisor in the morning.” 

“Whatever, Daph. Keep defending him and choosing him over me. We’ll see how well that works for us.” He walked past her without an ounce of emotion in his eyes and unceremoniously dropped onto the couch and pulled a blanket over himself. She took a deep breath and swallowed the words of argument back down, squared her shoulders and marched back to their bedroom. The door locked behind her and Bradley flinched at the sound. He knew if Daphne wanted her father to visit, he couldn’t stop her. He could only catch her when Pete Mitchell no doubt let her down one more time.

----

Neither of them tried to broach the topic again. Bradley was back in their bedroom the other night, the two of them talking about surface topics for a couple days before the equilibrium settled and things were back to normal. Of course it wasn’t lost on either of them that her father’s arrival date was only getting closer and closer. Bradley noticed different foods popping up in their fridge and cabinets. Noticed not a speck of dust on any surface. Noticed his girlfriend constantly fiddling with everything to make sure it was in its place. 

“Dad!” Daphne ran from the door the same way she had since she was a little girl. Whether it was in the airport after deployment or when he would pick her up every three weeks when it was his turn to see her, she had always found solace in the embrace of her father. 

“I’ve missed you, princess,” he said as she crashed into him. He held her tightly, enjoying the familiar feeling that holding her brought him, scared that seeing the house and her in it would shatter the image of the little girl he still kept in his wallet. “Where’s Bradley?” Her face fell, uncharacteristic of how she normally reacted to the mention of his name.

“Flying.” She said the word with such disdain that Pete felt it like a slap across his face. In truth, Bradley had scheduled as many hours in the jet as he would legally be allowed for the time her father would be in town. He wanted nothing to do with small talk and pretending things were okay. He wanted the days to pass by unacknowledged so he and Daphne could get back to just the two of them.

“You sound like your mother,” he teased in an attempt to lighten the mood. Clearly things were not as paradise-like as the young couple had hoped. 

“Shush. Let me give you a tour.”

----

When Bradley pulled up after sunset, he heard Carrie Underwood blaring from the house and could see a singular figure dancing through the living room window. He sat and watched for a minute, feeling stupid for purposefully avoiding her. He loved her. He really did. Sometimes he loved her so much it hurt his chest. He thinks he could find it in himself to be cordial with her father. Forgiveness wasn’t something he was ready for yet. Small steps.

“Hey, baby.” They locked eyes as soon as he opened the door, he stayed with his back against it as he waited to see what kind of mood she was in. “How was your day?” She turned down the music slightly and took a sip from the glass of wine that was on the coffee table. 

“Really good.”

“Good.” They stoically watched each other, waiting for the other to lunge for attack or wave a white flag of surrender. 

“I wish you had been here. He asked about you.” Bradley felt her disappointment wash over him and wished he could drown in it. It was the worst feeling in the world to have her upset with him. He remembers her father saying that to him when he first found out they were dating. That he would never have to threaten Bradley because to ever be the cause of Daphne Mitchell’s sadness and to have her look at you with disappointment would always be punishment enough. 

“I’m not ready to forgive him, Daph.” He spoke softer than he had to her all week. They had fought enough. He had raged enough. Had ignored the vulnerability gnawing inside of him. She deserved his best self. Truest self.

“Forgiveness can wait. I don’t need you to see him the way I do. I just want to be able to spend time with the two most important men in my life.” He had never been in the habit of denying her anything and he didn’t think he could start now. Pushing himself from the door, he settled his arms around her waist and hers naturally rested around his shoulders. 

“Can we start with one dinner?” he whispered as he dropped his forehead to hers and swayed to the music that was softly playing from the speakers.

“That sounds perfect.” She smiled and pressed onto her tiptoes so she could plant a kiss on his lips. “I’m sorry for not seeing your side. For trying to force a square peg.” He deepened their kiss in response, hands tightening on her sides and growing more desperate.

“It’s ok, baby, I was being an asshole. I deserved worse.” His hands slipped under her shirt and started to travel up when she pulled back from his embrace.

“Who said that apology earned you anything?” she chastised with a smile. 

“Oh really?” She nodded but leaned in for another kiss anyways. “I at least earned some fondling over the shirt.” Daphne laughed, amplified as he kissed the side of her neck and the beginnings of the mustache he was trying to grow tickled her skin. 

“Take me to bed, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” she breathed against his lips. He had never been in the habit of denying her.

----

That was how he found himself standing outside an Italian restaurant the next night. He had bargained for one dinner and she was holding him to it. He remembers a time when her father had felt like his one. Filling the gap left by Goose as best he could. Bradley doesn’t know where it all went wrong, when the man had decided to stand in his way instead of propelling him forward but this dinner wasn’t about the two of them. It was about the love they both had for Daphne. 

“Look who made it,” Pete remarked as Bradley came strolling in their direction. He watched as his daughter sprung from her seat to kiss him hello, the young pilot’s knuckles caressing her cheeks like she was made of porcelain. 

“Sir,” Bradley said as he turned and offered his hand. Mav grabbed and patted him on the shoulder with the other.

“It’s good to see you, Bradley. Flying suits you.” He looked so much like his best friend that he almost found eye contact difficult to maintain. Try as he might, he was destined to fly. 

“Thank you. I’ve been enjoying every minute.” He sat down, reaching for Daphne’s hand to gently kiss. “But never as much as I enjoy the time I spend with your daughter, sir.” Bradley knew it was flying that separated Pete and Charlotte Mitchell. Knew that it was Daphne’s biggest fear that it would separate the two of them as well. 

“I’ve made many mistakes in my life. Becoming a pilot was never one of them but letting it come before being a husband and father was.” Daphne swallowed as her father spoke, gripping Bradley’s hand tighter. “I’ve given into the temptation of flying just a bit further, just a bit faster instead of landing. Just don’t let yourself ever believe it’s worth more than what you have here.” She only let go of his hand to wrap her arms around her father. 

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you more,” he replied with a kiss to the top of her head. “She’s my whole world. And I didn’t support her moving here with you because even though I care for you Bradley, she will always be more important. I didn’t trust you to not make the same mistakes I did.” 

“I love her with all I’ve got, Mav. I’ll work every day to earn your trust the same way I work every day to be deserving of her love.” Pete looked at his daughter and she nodded. She loved him with all she had too. She trusted Bradley with her life. She knew in her heart that they were meant for each other. 

“Just don’t go getting married-” he paused as Bradley choked on the sip of water he had taken. “You good, Lieutenant?” 

“Yes, sir. No worries about that,” he chuckled. Daphne kicked him under the table. “Yet!” The waiter arrived with a round of drinks just in time, Maverick raising his in a toast.

“To my beautiful, intelligent daughter, to starting fresh and to the Navy.” As soon as he was done sipping, he was asking Bradley about flight training. She watched both their eyes light up at the mention of planes and G’s and maneuvers that she couldn’t keep track of. Daphne smiled contentedly at the interaction. Things were far from perfect but life was never meant to be so. The world was righted on its axis and she could breathe again. She was happy. And that was all that mattered.

[whiskeyswriting]

The Cure

Dedication: This story goes to all of those that have wished they had a true friend like Phoenix by their side. It's at your worst moments that people show their true color and show you they'll truly stand by your side or leave you.

Playlist: Spotify | Apple

⚠️warning: mentions of alcohol consumption; mentions of anxiety, depression, and panic attacks; mentions of low self-doubt; mentions of death and grief; naval inaccuracies

📝A/N1: This is a work of fiction. Please do not copy or post anywhere else. Feel free to like and reblog but do give credit. Any constructive criticism is appreciated. I do not own any of the photos included in this post. Photos used have been from Pinterest or Tumblr or Instagram. I also don’t own any of the characters mentioned.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

10 Year Ago

This was your moment. To many it wouldn’t seem like a big accomplishment but to you, it was a step towards your fully becoming an adult. Your friends had already gotten their own place, so to them this wasn’t anything new.

You had finished furnishing your apartment to style and liking a few days prior and now you were waiting for your friends to arrive for your first time hosting wine night.

It had been something you planned just the day before so you anticipated your friends to run late. What you hadn’t anticipated was for you to wait for two hours and nobody arriving or calling you.

You pack up in various to go boxes the cheeses, meats, fruits, and crackers that you had laid out. You go to your makeshift guest room and office and take out a few thank you cards.

Taping the cards to the boxes, you head outside and leave them at each door of your neighbors on your floor. You knock gently on the last door and gingerly place the box on the small table next to the door.

Heading back to your apartment, you feel the tears of rejection and abandonment surface. You leave the kitchen as is and go straight to bed.

You’re awoken 45 minutes later by knocking at your door followed by voices. You look to see who it is before opening and you vaguely recognize your neighbor from across the hall.

“Hey! I just got home and wanted to welcome you to the building. I’m Natasha,” she says as she holds out a bag for you. Candles and decorative flowers were visible from the top of the bag.

“I don’t live here but still wanted to say welcome,” the guy in a Hawaiian shirt tells you and hands you a small envelope. “Bradley.”

Your tears are renewed as you accept the gifts and introduce yourself. “Would you like to come in?” You ask and they nod and enter. You decide to give them a tour, even though the layout of the apartment across the hall is identical.

After polishing off, three bottles of wine, you listen to Natasha and Bradley tell stories of their college adventures. They had both also applied for the Naval Academy and we’re waiting to hear back if they had been accepted.

There was something calming and comforting about the two of them that made you forget for a moment that your friends had left you alone earlier.

“This is the best last minute hangout I’ve ever had. We should do it again,” Natasha tells you. You all exchange phone numbers and all social media possible before they take their leave.

Little did you know that this small gesture from them would change the course of your life.

6 Years Ago

The dictionary defines "mediator" as a person who attempts to make people involved in a conflict come to an agreement. What the dictionary, or any other book really, tells you is that friendships you thought would be there forever end when you play mediator for two friends.

 It was a dark time in your life: your parents going through a bitter divorce, secrets coming to light, your anxiety and depression starting to develop. On top of that, you had the stress of work causing panic attacks. 

 When Cassandra and Isabella came to blows over how they viewed their friendship, both came to you to vent. You already had too much on your plate emotionally, so you made it clear to both that you would not be taking sides. You assured them both of your love for each and encouraged to take time and cool down to talk again at another opportunity when emotions were not running high.

Cassandra was the only one to understand where you were coming from and did her best to not involve you.

Isabella on the other hand… She kept bringing it up every time you would meet up with her. Deep down, you had a feeling that she expected you to automatically side with her because you met her before ever being friends with Cassandra.

After the last brunch you had with her, you met up with Natasha. “I’m so exhausted Nat and I hate complaining to you but I don’t know what else to do for my sanity.”

“Want me to strap her to my F-18 on my next flight?” She asks causing your to laugh.

“You’re the best! Ugh why did you have to be so good at being a pilot? Can you sneak my into the Navy?”

“Yeah it doesn’t work lie that! But after my deployment I was called to Top Gun.”

You can’t help the shriek you emit and you hug her. “That’s amazing!! I know you’ve been working hard!”

“Rooster is also going.”

“Rooster..? You mean Bradley!? He finally is getting to go?” Your wide smile told her how happy you were for the two of them.

Then reality hits you. “We won’t have our weekly pizza nights. Ugh look at me trying to make it about me when we should be celebrating you!”

“You’ll be okay without me. You got this.”

“You’re my newest friend and the one that believes the most in me,” you say a bit sadly. “Cassandra is moving to Nebraska. She got offered a job with better pay over there.”

Nat gives you a hug. “I’m always a call away. Anytime you feel alone, look up and find me in the sky.”

You return the hug knowing she means the words. “You’re the best Phoenix. Prove all those boys are idiots at Top Gun.”

4 Years Ago

It was the call you dreaded to make to Natasha. To say that she did really get a great first impression of your fiancé, only to have him prove her right hurt after you believed he would be your future. You did your best to not break down but you only lasted three weeks until you called her for support.

You knew she was deployed in the middle of the Pacific and she really wouldn’t have any signal to hear your message. “I’m so sorry to call you like this… I just… I don’t know what else to do… where else to go… I’m okay I promise. I just… Michael had been cheating with Isabella. I have nobody Nat… I’m so lonely and I.. I hate it. I keep trusting the wrong people…?” You take a long swig from one of the bottles of whiskey you bought.

“Am I not lovable? Is there something wrong with me…? I know I’m not supermodel beautiful… I’m not even beautiful… I’m not even smart enough to know how to make a man happy…” you continue ranting to the emptiness on the other line.

Little did you know that Natasha and Bradley had just arrived at the states and both heard your voicemail. What you had forgotten was that you left her a second message of your drunken rendition of Beyoncé’s “Irreplaceable” while packing up Michael’s stuff in your apartment.

The next morning you wake with a hangover and are still too half asleep as you go to make coffee to realize the two pilots sitting in your living room.

“You got the party started without us?” Bradley asks and you scream bloody murder at the fright he gave you.

“What the hell Bradley Nicholas Bradshaw?!”

“We were going to surprise you but then we got your message,” Nat says offering you a cup of coffee with toast and aspirin.

You groan at the pounding in your head and accept the offerings. You then start crying again and tell them everything.

The entire time of their stay, they make you their priority. The three of you head out to go on hikes, go for brunch. They even take you to the shooting range for target practice.

You look at them as they pack up for their respective deployments. Their friendship has helped you through the darkest days you’ve been through. Growing up you thought you knew what friendship was, but know you live and breathe the truth of friendship.

“I was a little bit lost, but I'm not anymore... I was a little bit hurt, but I'm not anymore... I was a little left out, but I'm not anymore... 'Cause the tears fell down, but they don't anymore... I was a little messed up, but I'm not anymore... I was a little locked out, but I'm not anymore... I was a little far gone, but I'm not anymore... Yeah, it's alright now, baby, I got the cure”

The lyrics to the Little Mix song come to mind and you know that no matter the distance your friendship with Natasha would always be the cure to any issue you’re having.

1 Year Ago

After your parents' and Cassandra's deaths two years ago, you made Natasha and Bradley your emergency contacts. In return, both of them added you to their emergency contacts list.

The first call from the Naval base left you scared.

It was a training accident. A bird strike.

You took the immediate next flight out to San Diego to visit Natasha at the hospital. There you met her back-seater. It was during this visit to California, that the Dagger Squad adopted you as their honorary member and gave you your own callsign.

The second call nearly killed you.

Your own friendship with Bradley blossomed out of grief. He understood what it was to lose his parents, one to an accident and another to illness. He knew how and when to comfort you.

Natasha would often tease the two of you of making an adorable couple. Neither you or Bradley had ever broached the subject of dating or even thought to.

Even if he had, after everything you had endured with Michael you knew you needed time to learn to undo the damage with therapy.

Hearing that the plane his instructor and pseudo-dad was in got shot down and then Bradley's was also shot down, you were shaking so much that you dropped the containers with your meals for the week and food splattered all over the floor.

"No no no no! I can't lose them too!" You keep repeating as you make your way over to the base to wait for the USS Abraham Lincoln to return with your favorite people.

A few days later, you hear a knock at the door of Natasha's house. When you see Jake, you hug him so tightly. "Where are they?!" Instead of answering, he takes your hand and leads you to his truck so he can take you to them. "They're all okay. They're being kept for observation. They knew you would raise hell if they left you without saying goodbye."

You spend the night in Natasha's hospital room and take turns visiting Bradley, Bob, and Maverick. It's not until a couple days later that they are released and allowed to go home.

"Yeah, I know you've been losing the fight. You been knocked down a million times. Screaming out, you don't know what to do. That's when I'll be right next to you," Natasha says as she hands you the cup of tea that she brought over. "I know you've been doing better with therapy, but we still need our girl's pizza night. We can sit on the edge of your bed. Tell me all of the fears in your head and I'll sing you your favorite song 'til the pain and all the tears are all gone."

Now

Standing in your white gown, you wait for the doors to open. Your hold on the bouquet tightens as you take in a deep breath.

You turn to look Maverick as he offers you his arm to walk you down the aisle and give you away. "He's excited to see you walking down to him."

The smile you have can't be contained. "I can't wait to see him and be his wife."

Just as you finish speaking, you can hear the notes of the instrumental version of Begin Again can be heard playing.

The doors open and the smile on your fiancé, now soon-to-be husband, matches yours. Maverick gives your arm a small squeeze and you both start walking down the aisle.

🏷 List: @callsignscupcake @cycbaby @callsign-dragonbaron @luckyladycreator2

📝A/N2: Who is the soon-to-be husband? That’s all up to you. Your pick of who you would want to see at the end of the aisle on your wedding day.

[atlene-sims]

Y1: Summer - Martinez

Aaron Martinez (top left) and Maria Martinez (top right) were high school sweethearts who had their oldest daughter Delfina Martinez (bottom right) in their final year of high school. This didn’t stop them both from going to university and getting good degrees, however! They did wait until after graduation to have middle child Micaela Martinez (bottom left), and little Soraya Martinez (bottom middle) followed not long after. Now they’ve decided to move to Aspiration Point to have a bit more room, and are considering expanding their family even more. SimCity Housing Association was very keen to add university educated sims to the Aspiration Point community!

Aaron Martinez: Age: Adult Aspiration: Knowledge/Popularity - Become Media Magnate Sexuality: Straight Zodiac: Capricorn - 7/4/1/8/5 (Neat, Shy, Lazy, Playful) + Brown hair, green eyes - Glasses Interests: Politics, Environment, Sports, Fashion. Hobby: Unknown Traits: Commitment Issues, Coward, Star Quality, Perfectionist, Eccentric Maria Martinez: Age: Adult Aspiration: Romance/Family - Marry Off 6 Kids Sexuality: Straight Zodiac: Leo - 4/10/4/4/3 (Messy, Outgoing, Lazy, Serious, Grouchy) + Fatness, brown eyes - Red hair Interests: Politics, Environment, Fashion Hobby: Unknown Traits: Heavy Sleeper, Inappropriate, Lucky, Great Kisser, Eccentric Delfina Martinez: Age: Teen Aspiration: Family Sexuality: Straight Zodiac: Scorpio - 6/5/8/3/3 (Neat, Active, Serious, Grouchy) + Good at cleaning, blue eyes - great dancer Interests: Entertainment, Paranormal, Culture Hobby: Unknown Traits: Virtuoso, Ambitious, Excitable, Neurotic Micaela Martinez: Age: Child Aspiration: Grow Up Zodiac: Gemini - 4/7/8/3/3 (Messy, Outgoing, Active, Serious, Grouchy) Interests: School, Entertainment, Paranormal, Travel Hobby: Unknown Traits: Hot-headed, Night Owl, Rebellious. Soraya Martinez: Age: Toddler Aspiration: Grow Up Zodiac: Cancer - 6/3/6/4/6 (Neat, Shy, Active, Serious, Nice) Interests: Toys, Animals Hobby: Unknown Traits: Loner, Easily Impressed.

The Martinez Family got the Cape Cod Classic house from the Lot Bin because they needed a few bedrooms but couldn’t afford anything bigger.

Little Soraya’s nursery is on the ground floor, Aaron and Maria have the upstairs room on the left, and Delfina and Micaela share the upstairs room on the right. There house has been furnished with the basics because that was just about all they could afford.

Aaron gets right inside studying cleaning and learns a deep appreciation for Nature. Bird-watching is his favourite past time.

Meanwhile, Maria is left to potty-train Soraya, and make funny faces while she waits.

The Welcome Wagon for this household was Blair Davis (pictured) and Luc and Frank Noel. Aaron is pleased to meet the neighbours.

Maria might be even more pleased to meet the neighbours. She immediately rolled the want to flirt with Frank as soon as she met him. Romance sims....

Delfina studied cleaning and decided to follow in her father’s footsteps with a Nature hobby. She prefers to spend her time in nature hiking though, not bird watching like Aaron.

Of course the first sim Delfina brought home from school was Bradley Armstrong, her crush.

She found out that he felt the same, and they quickly fell in love.

Love didn’t stop her pelting him with a football though!

Of course, she decided she wanted to have her very first kiss and make things official with Bradley as soon as possible.

Apparently, she couldn’t keep her mind on her schoolwork because she came home with a D-. But she also came home with Bradley in tow!

Delfina made her move and she and Bradley had their first kiss.

When she asked him to Go Steady with her, Bradley said yes! Delfina’s parents were a little too excited for their daughter and her new boyfriend, and immediately rushed over to congratulate them.

True Love!

Micaela scored an A- in school, while Delfina’s grades dropped to an F and she became officially the worst student from Aspiration Point.

Aaron wanted to finally sit down and use his literature degree to write his first novel. Neither he nor Maria had jobs so he figured this might earn them some money.

Soraya manged to learn to use the potty while her sisters were out at school or with boys! Delfina and Micaela took some time to hang out with their babysister and help her learn from the charisma bunny.

With all three of their daughters busy, Aaron and Maria took the opportunity to have a date night for the first time in years.

[sometimesanalice]

You have absolutely SPOILED me with this reblog!! 💖😭

I get so GIDDY when I get to read your thoughts! It's so much fun for me!

more for you friend!

The appreciative way Bradley was looking at you made your everyday underwear feel sexier than La Perla ever could.

-- the man SMOLDERS! Like that half-lidded gaze of his?? Stick a fork in me I'm done! And the man appreciates some nice lingerie, but I think he likes it more when he knows that whoever he's with is feeling comfortable in their own skin with him. And for these two in particular, like there's been so much build up, he loves that she's finally reached that place with him.

And Bradley has the best personality. Maybe if you ask nicely he will let you help him pick out some things to make his place feel more like a home. More like him.

I just love this! It just shows their connection is such a simple but deep way-- and for her, she knows how empty it can feel when you're in a place that doesn't feel like it's yours. And with him having been in the Navy for his entire life, where he's moving around and staying in pre-furnished places, she wants him to feel like he is safe to put down those roots and have a space he enjoys being in.

He has never been the type to do anything half-heartedly. Kissing is the agenda. It is the main course. He is happy to take his time to savor the taste and feel of you. He’s not thinking about how quickly he can move on to the next thing. He kisses you like he couldn’t dream of doing anything else.

Oh, to be kissed by Bradley 🥰-- he's just so PRESENT!

He settles his hands on your hips, his thumbs skimming over the skin at right above the waistband of your panties. “We go at your speed, sweet girl. As much or as little as you want. Whatever you want is what I want too.” “And if I want everything?” “Then I’ll give you everything,” he promises, pulling you close to get his mouth on yours again. You could taste the unspoken always in his kiss.

🥰🥰🥰-- he is so swoony for so many reasons, but the way he is still trying to put her at ease. He knows it's a big moment for the two of them, and how kind of in her head she's been up until this point. But he's so genuinely patient and happy to go at whatever pace she wants to set for that new part of their relationship. He's just following her lead, which really lets her feel confident because she knows he's being sincere.

He knew that you would come around to telling him what was holding you back on your own time, he just didn’t expect it to be after you had come in his lap from rubbing yourself on him in that sinful dress of yours.

I mean what did he think would happen 🤭-- lmaoooooo! he owes a lot to that red dress of hers! haha!

And you look so perfect, so real in your nude bra and white panties in his bedroom. He likes that this wasn’t planned, that he gets to have you so authentically. He wants you just as you are.

That man is a romantic through and through-- he is SO SMITTEN it's embarrassing, lololol!! But for them in that moment, it's something they've both been looking forward to, and that kind of final big step between being friends and more. He didn't anticipate their first time together being on the agenda for the evening, so that it happened kind of spontaneously and he gets to have her in a way that feels normal without any of that superficial shine. And for as well as he knows her, there are these bits of real that only an intimate partner gets to have, and he's so greedy for all these crumbs that he's never had of her before!

That even when you’re both half naked and riled up you can still banter with each other. That he can still make you smile and you can still make him laugh all while the undercurrent of need pulses around you.

That is so special and beautiful 🥹🫶🏻-- there's something so lovely about this and the way they are so comfortable with each other! there's nerves and excitement, but that they still feel so THEM when they're about to take that big next step.

“Be serious with me right now, that is totally how you got your callsign, isn’t it?” Gesturing to his sizable cock with a wave of your hand.

😏😏😏-- SHE'S SO FUNNY FOR THIS! lololol. but also SHE'S NOT WRONG!

“I knew it!” you hoot before bursting into a fit of laughter. “I knew there had to be an X-rated reason, you dirty bird. Oh my god, Bradley! No wonder why Nat can’t keep a straight face.”

Hahah I loved to hear the real story and Nat not keeping it together makes su much sense now😅-- it's one of the questions we'll never have answered but also so much fun to speculate!! I had so much fun thinking up a cheeky reason he'd earn that callsign, especially since they're given out rather than something someone picks! But I loved Nat having the dirt and keeping his secret, especially since that's something in the past him and Sweet Girl have always kind of kept their sex lives to themselves. So he's only ever given her the PG version, but when it comes up in front of Nat I think she'd be so amused watching Bradley flounder and only give the redacted version when in the past he hasn't had those kinds of qualms before. Like you KNOW Nat is teasing him about it after the fact "like oh that's how it happened? huh, I remember something different" and he just gets all grumbly and defensive, haha!

He had told you he’d give you anything you wanted and he meant it. If you wanted the full experience then he was going to give you the best damn time of your life.

I sure want the full experience 😌-- where do I sign up for a slo-mo Bradley Bradshaw striptease?? lolol

“Can I take these off and make you come with my mouth?” He slides a finger under the elastic band. “Can I earn that five-stars?”

Abso-fucking-lutely-- oh he wants to set that bar HIGH

“Can I try?” Bradley waits until you nod your head yes, still propped up watching him. He places a kiss to your inner thigh in thanks for trusting him with this. “Tell me what makes you feel good,” he coaxes, “Tell me what you need from me.”-- I loved how comfortable he makes her in this moment, since she's a bit self conscious about admitting that to him and he knows that. And a little bit is that best of the best mentality where he wants to prove himself to her, but he also wants to be the man to show her just what she deserves to have. Especially since he now knows where her other partners have let her down in the past by not putting their best foot forward in that way. The emotional intimacy as well as just the oof that's hot of it all sends me in a tizzy every time!

“Oh my god, you’re preening! You’re so pleased with yourself right now,” you giggle, your thumbs stroking over his mustache at the wetness still there. “Damn right I am,” he rasps leaning in for another lingering kiss.

And I would let him preen after that 😌🥵-- HE'S THE 1%! HE LIVES FOR THOSE GOLD STARS! He's so smug and self satisfied that he was the first to get her there like that! He's like "Screw humble I'm about to make a bumper sticker and put it on the Bronco" lmaooo

“Never,” Bradley confirms. He brings your hand up to his chest so you can feel how fast his heart is beating.

I love love love that this makes him nervous and means so much to him and that he experiences this first time with her 🥰🥺-- he's so confident usually (that strut!!)! But some of my personal favorite moments in the movie are those moments on the carrier when we see him really in his head and anxious. We know he's a fun time, but getting to see his gravity in those big moments are so compelling to me! And sex with her and them getting to progress their relationship, and taking that next step into the forever he is hoping for with her. They both are feeling how BIG this is for them. I loved the idea in this fic of them getting to have firsts with each other. I wanted layers of the emotional intimacy woven in with the physical.

While he’s had a couple serious girlfriends in the past, one didn’t like the way the pill made her feel and the other didn’t like the mess. It was never a big deal to him as long as everyone felt good. He liked that extra layer of protection, he never liked the idea of potentially getting someone pregnant and leaving them to care for his child when his job was so unpredictable.

Not gonna lie, him just taking his part in contraception and being responsible is so fucking hot to me I can't 🤤🥵🫠-- he's feminist! his mom raised him right!! And I think Bradley is someone who in his personal life likes having as much control over a situation as he possibly have, with all of the trauma of his younger years and then how dangerous his job is. The use of condoms in addition to him taking an active role in that responsibility but also made him feel like it gave him more reassurance by taking that extra measure.

Your mind was taking snapshots of everything, you didn’t want to forget a single moment of this. All these little details of him that belonged to you. The length of his eyelashes. The flush of his cheeks. The state of his pretty wavy hair made messy by your hands. The pinch of his brow. The exact shade of his whiskey brown eyes as he stared into your eyes.

🥹🥰🥹🥰🥹-- in the first part, she tries to be so practical by not letting her mind runaway with the what-ifs of him being her last first for things, so I wanted a parallel in this second part where she embraces it instead of pushing it away. So this moment she's really leaning into not only wanting to remember every little thing of this moment because it's special, but also because deep down she knows that it's her last first time with someone because he's it for her!

Bradley has always been a big fan of mutually assured orgasms, but he had no idea sex could be this good. He has never felt so in sync or connected like this with anyone else ever.-- that man enjoys sex, but even with his relationships in the past, he's never had a connection to his partners the way he has with her. So his world is getting rocked for multiple reasons lmaoooo

“But Bradley, I need you to romantically fuck me harder.”

Girlhood in one sentence, 🥰🫶🏻🥹 but also 😮‍💨🥵🤤-- he's so funny, because he's so anthony bridgerton coded here. he's like I AM A GENTLEMAN! but she knows how he earned that callsign of his and she wants to experience the full deal!

His brown eyes are rimmed with hazel and crinkled around the edges. All the affection and happiness and familiarity evident on his flushed face.

The baby cow eyes 🥰-- LT BABY COW EYES CHECKING IN!! I think one of the things I am most soft about them in general, is how truly FOND he is of her. Like miss ma'am is cracking a joke the second she's caught her breath, and he's just like "that's my girl".

And then he smiles at you. And you know you’re wearing a matching one.

I loved this so so much 🥰🫶🏻-- oh this makes me so happy!! I'm so thrilled that you enjoyed this!! Thank you again for such a lovely reblog!!

Give Me Your Hand {Here Is My Heart}

Summary: You’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what it would be like to be in Bradley Bradshaw’s bed, and now you finally get to find out. (Spoiler: It’s even better than you could have ever imagined.)

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 8K+

Warnings: so much smut with a side of fluff (Minors DNI)

(This is a 2-Part series for the “Like I Can” Universe. However, it can be read on its own!)  Read Part 1 here!

“Well, are you coming?”

You are two lace trimmed bits of cotton away from being naked, and you can feel his heated gaze traveling over your body as you walk towards his stairs with a teasing sway of your hips.

If you had known you were going to end your night shimmying down your little red dress in front of Bradley, you might have tried to wear something a bit more underneath it, just for him.

But there was no missing the intensity and the desire that was in his eyes as he had watched you strip before him. It was more than clear that liked what he saw.

The appreciative way Bradley was looking at you made your everyday underwear feel sexier than La Perla ever could. 

You don’t get very far before your whole world tilts as you’re lifted off the ground and tossed over his broad shoulder.

“Oh my god, Bradley! Warn a girl.” The sound coming out of you part gasp, part laugh.

“Heads up, kid.” There is no missing the smug smile in his voice, as he grips you a little tighter.

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