#the rooster stache

[bradshawsbaby]

I’ll be forever mourning the Rooster Stache™️

[roosterbruiser]

VOULEZ-VOUS FINALE

Spans from December, 1978--December, 1992

Los Angeles, CA

She opens a bank account. Her bruise plays a big role in this chapter. 

Another house party with just the gang. Cherry and Hangman are pretty much high the whole time. Everyone does a little bit of coke besides Rooster. She reads everyone’s palms.

Jake plays the tape of him and Cherry for everyone and Rooster gets pissy about it. And he tries to say it’s because he never watches his own stuff so he doesn’t understand why Jake does. And Cherry has to be like…relax, man. I fuck everyone. 

Rooster sulks outside, smoking a cigar. And Cherry finally goes outside and sits on his lap and asks him what’s going on. He’s too afraid to admit that he’s in love with her. So he just says that he likes the way things have been and he doesn’t want things to change. She assures him they won’t. 

And like she can sense that he needs it, she fucks him that night. Stays with him. Except there’s a moment where he tries to slow her down, holding her hips, helping her rock. And she lets him for a second--it feels good. It feels really, really good. But then she’s awash with something that feels too big and she takes over again and goes fast.

Rooster tells her that he sleeps very deeply when she sleeps with him. It feels like he’s saying that he loves her. 

Los Angeles, CA May 29th, 1979

Jake’s guilty but unwilling to talk about things. They haven’t told anybody about what happened. They have a little get-together and watch some of the films Cherry has made and Rooster privately broods. She babies him--sits on his lap while he smokes a cigar. And then they have sex that night. It’s the first time they actually make love. 

How come she can be sweet with Jake and not make it sexual but she can’t do that with Rooster?

Her and Rooster are like achingly close to being a couple. She’s spending all her time with him, they seem to have found some sort of domestic bliss together. She’s getting more money and he helps her open a bank account. 

He is close to telling her that he loves her. But something that keeps happening is everytime they have an intimate moment together, she tries to get sexual with him. And he doesn’t know how to tell her now so he does it. 

It comes to a head when Hangman is over one night. Her and Rooster go to bed and he is just holding her, kissing her, about to say he loves her. And she tries to initiate sex. And he lets it get to her sitting naked on top of him before he stops her. They have a small warble because she feels rejected and he doesn’t know how to explain to her that she doesn’t always have to fuck him. 

So she gets out of bed and fucks Hangman. Then she sleeps in her own room. 

Los Angeles, CA June 9th, 1979

Things are a bit stilted between her and Rooster now. She’s back on her bullshit with Jake, doing coke all the time and partying. It’s like what happened to her meant nothing. It didn’t touch her deeply enough for anything to change, especially since her and Rooster are in such a weird spot right now. And Rooter is too worried about something happening to Cherry, so he’s been accompanying them. 

Cherry is feeling things for Rooster and it scares her. She is starting to get special treatment from people because they’ve seen her films. A few people ask for autographs.

Somewhere in here, Phoenix paints a portrait of Cherry.

One night at the disco, a woman approaches Rooster and she’s kind of all over him. But he’s just watching Cherry. And when Cherry comes back to the table, he says he’s ready to go and she says she wants to keep partying. The woman wants to fuck Rooster--Cherry can tell. She sees Rooster pushing her off and tells Rooster that he should just take her home.

They get into a spat about it and he ends up leaving with the woman and fucking her at home. But he can’t finish. He doesn’t know why. He lets her stay the night, but he doesn’t sleep in the bed. Really, he doesn’t sleep at all. He just paces. 

Los Angeles, CA June 23rd, 1979

Cherry films a scene with Bob--nurse and patient. Then after, her and Bob go to the pier and she takes a walk with him. They get to know each other a little bit and he tells her what he knows about Rooster and Jake. They get to know each other. They both grew up on farms so they talk about it. They don’t fuck again. They have a friendship that translates off-screen and on. People like watching them fuck. But they never do it outside. 

When she goes home, Rooster is making dinner. Things have been a bit odd between them. But she’s just overwhelmed. So she goes into the kitchen and just holds him from behind. And he melts in her touch. But then she starts kissing his neck and grabbing his cock and he just gives in because he knows that’s the only way he’s gonna feel her love. They fuck that night, but he tenderly kisses what remains of her bruise. She never takes the necklace off. 

Cape Cod, MA July 1st-3rd, 1979

Phoenix has a vacation home on Cape Cod, so they all go to the house. It’s huge and beautiful and they’re all happy together. Cherry rooms with Rooster and it really excited him. 

They kind of act like a couple for a little while there. She’s taking bumps with Jake but everyone’s taking bumps. 

They have a few good days of just shopping and sun tanning and swimming and fucking. Maybe they play spin the bottle or seven minutes in heaven. Cherry ends up fucking everyone in the group during seven minutes in heaven. 

When her and Jake are swimming together one night, she notices a scar on the back of his leg that she’s never seen before. He says it’s a piece of Gentry’s skull--embedded there forever because it was too deep. They couldn’t get it out. 

For once, at the end of the night, Cherry is too tired to have sex. She asks Rooster if it’s okay if they just sleep. He says of course it is. He’s thrilled. He feels like this means something big. 

Cape Cod, MA July 4th, 1979

They drink all day. Cherry takes a few bumps with Jake. They go out boating. It’s a good time. Everyone is beautiful, everything is beautiful. 

They stay out on the water and watch the fireworks. She sits on Rooster’s lap all night. 

When they get home, everyone is tired. They all go to bed. Her and Rooster go to bed too and they make love. Like they actually make love for the first time--she lets him. And it’s so intense and she doesn’t know what to do and she’s scared. 

And he is so happy after. She can see that it pleased him so endlessly. And that terrifies her. 

He tells her that he loves her. She pretends like she’s asleep. He falls for it. 

Los Angeles, CA July 13th, 1979 

Films a swingers scene with Rooster, Phoenix, and Hangman. She’s starting to get recognized on the street now wherever she goes. People from out of town are the only ones brave enough to ask for a picture together and she never says no.

Rooster is waiting for the perfect moment to tell her that he is in love with her. He wants to get it right. He wants to leave the business and take her with him. He has enough money for the both of them to live off of handsomely forever. 

So then the four of them hang out at Phoenix’s place. Rooster sees the portrait of Cherry that she painted and says he wants to buy it. It’s the first piece of art he’s ever bought from Phoenix. 

Jake tries to outbid Rooster. They have a weirdly tense squabble over it before Cherry intervenes and outbids both of them. She buys the portrait herself. 

Later on, when her and Rooster go home, he turns on a record and asks her to dance with him. She’s confused because he never wants to dance. But then it’s a slow record and they slow dance and it feels good. She is in love with him maybe. But she’s having so much fun just fucking around, just being by herself, just doing whatever. 

And then he says he wants to tell her something. And she asks him to make her cum first. He does--twice. And then he tells her that he’s in love with her. She is terrified but she knows that she loves him too. She feels powerless against it. So she says she loves him too. 

Los Angeles, CA July 17th, 1979

Her and Rooster decide that they’re going to try monogamy. She’s scared, but she loves him. What else is there to do? The deal is that they only fuck other people for work. That’s it. Nothing outside of that. 

They announce it to their friends while they’re all on the beach together. Everyone is happy for them. Honestly, it’s a good day. Jake isn’t an asshole--he doesn’t think it’s gonna last, but he doesn’t say that. He’s still touchy with her, which is okay for now. 

That night, she takes a bath with Rooster. They tell each other about their childhoods. 

Los Angeles, CA August 11th, 1979

She films a cuckold scene with Rooster and Bob. 

Fucking other men on set isn’t helping. She wants to keep fucking other people. But she loves Rooster--she’s devoted to him. And it isn’t that he isn’t fulfilling her, it’s just that she’s a genuine nymphomaniac. 

Cute moments with her and Rooster--maybe them swimming. Maybe them shopping. You know. Cute stuff. You can do it!

Monterey, CA August 17th-August 20th, 1979

Rooster takes Cherry on a road trip. They go up the coast and stay in a little cottage on the water. It’s nice. It’s just them. He loves that it feels so domestic. She just loves him. She’s insatiable, though. She always wants it--she always wants to be fucked. 

Cherry wants to be with him but she’s afraid it won’t be enough. She’s trying so hard for it to be enough. For him. For Rooster. He tells her about his mom getting sick. 

Los Angeles, CA September 1979

Films a domination scene with Rooster.

Cherry and Rooster are in love. But she wants to be fucked all the time. 

There’s a scene where she tries to initiate sex and he doesn’t want to have sex. So she’s just frustrated. She has to touch herself and it just isn’t the same. 

She grabs a drink with Jake and they end up going back to his house. They do too much coke and end up sleeping together. They both feel terrible about it. 

She tells Rooster as soon as she gets home. And he forgives her and Jake immediately--I mean, it’s like handing a lighter to a pyromaniac. He gets it. He says that she can sleep with whoever she wants, as long as she comes home and is in bed with him every night. 

Los Angeles, CA October, 1979 

Films a Western thing with the full cast. 

She fucks someone else one night and then comes home. Her and Rooster eat dinner. They got to bed. He initiates sex and in the heat of the moment, while he’s being rough with her, he tells her that he’s fucking someone else’s cum into her. He calls her a whore. 

They stop. They’re both upset. They agree that it isn’t working. He asks her, as a last ditch effort, to quit porn and just be with him. She says no. They hold each other. In the morning, they agree to only fuck on set. 

Los Angeles, CA November, 1979

Summer camp with the full cast. When her and Rooster fuck, it’s very much them longing for each other. It’s heartbreaking, really. They kiss a lot. He still makes her cum. She misses him so much. Just a long hug after the shoot. 

She starts getting super into doing coke with Jake again. They’re hanging out all the time together. She’s still living with Rooster. But they’re achingly just friends--which is very hard for them. 

She’s kind of in a tailspin. She fucks everyone. She misses Rooster. 

Los Angeles, CA Late November, 1979

Her and Jake are hanging out, doing coke one night. They are talking and they start arguing. He says she doesn’t know the difference between sex and love. And they’re both high and they really get into it but then all of the sudden, he starts seizing. 

She rides with him in the ambulance. The paramedics recognize her and one of them asks for her autograph. Rooster meets her at the hospital. He and Cherry comfort each other. She’s very distraught. Jake is okay--they get to go in and see him after a few hours. They stay in the hospital with him for a while. 

When Rooster goes home to get him and Cherry some clothes, Jake tells her that he has something that he only wants to tell Cherry and she can’t tell anyone. She agrees. It’s very soft. She’s stroking his hair, they’re both crying. He said he met God and he licked his wounds. It was Gentry.

Los Angeles, CA December, 1979 

Cherry is still reeling from seeing Jake overdose. She asks Dennis if she can push the shoot back. He says no. Rooster and him get into it. 

Cherry shows up on set and Rooster and Dennis are arguing. Rooster tells Cherry that this is his last scene--ever. He’s leaving the business after this. This means several things: Cherry knows everyone will start to leave after him, they won’t fuck anymore, and she will miss him severely. 

It’s a make-me-a-star scene. Very sad.

Dennis insults Rooster and Cherry decks Dennis in the face. She busts his lip open good and wide.

Los Angeles, CA Late December, 1979

It’s just her and Rooster over Christmas. It’s her first one away from her folks. She signs another contract with Goldman Homevideos. Dennis forgives her--so he can keep making money from her.

The prologue ties in here. It is Dennis. He drugged her. 

She goes into Rooster’s room. He throws Dennis out. He cleans her up. It’s all very tender. She says she wishes that she could be what he wants her to be. He says that isn’t the issue here--the issue is that she can’t give herself to him fully. They hold each other. She still has the gold chain. She says that she thinks they’re soulmates. He says he’s always known it.

Los Angeles, CA November, 1980

It’s Cherry’s 23rd birthday. She celebrates with the whole crew. It’s a good party. 

Afterwards, Rooster gives her another gift. It’s when they’re alone together. He gives her two thick, fat gold rings. One has a C engraved on it and the other has an A engraved on it. He says that the next time Dennis acts up, she can scar him up real good. So that everyone knows he fucked with Cherry Arsan. 

Rooster finished Emmanuelle. He reads some out loud to her as they nurse their final cocktails of the night. They just go to sleep there on the couch together. They don’t have sex. 

Cape Cod, MA July, 1981 

They’re all at Phoenix’s house for the 4th again. Rooster, Payback, and Phoenix aren’t in the industry anymore. That leaves Cherry, Hangman, Coyote, and Fanboy. 

They swim and eat and all just love each other. It’s a good time. Cherry and Hangman aren’t officially a couple, but they may as well be. Cherry lives with him now and they’re fuck buddies, even though they fuck other people. 

But monogamy isn’t a thing. So she sleeps in Rooster’s bed because she misses him. And he misses her, too. They end up having sex and afterwards, Rooster is upset. He wants her. So he tells her that they can’t have sex again. It makes him miserable. 

Los Angeles, CA April, 1982

Phoenix is getting married. Everyone attends the wedding. They dance--except Rooster, who just watches. But when a slow song comes on, her and Rooster dance together. They dance to the song Something On Your Mind by Karen Dalton. 

He asks her if she ever wants to get married. They talk about it. She doesn’t know what she wants. She says that if she ever does get married, she hopes it’s him. But she doesn’t feel ready. He says he’ll wait for her. 

Only Hangman and Cherry are in the industry still.  

Los Angeles, CA December, 1983

It’s Christmas. It’s just Rooster and Cherry. 

Hangman is starting to spend Christmas with Gentry’s family. 

They’ve been doing this for a few years now. They reminisce all the years they’ve known each other and the way things have changed. She gets him very expensive cigars and a new gold chain since she still wears his. It’s very nice. He gets her a pair of shoes--nice, leather Mary Janes. And a pair of bell-bottoms. 

They don’t have sex, but she sleeps in his bed. He says it’s the only time he sleeps through the night. She kisses his forehead. 

Los Angeles, CA

June, 1984

It’s Rooster’s birthday now. They all celebrate with a big party at Rooster’s house. It takes place after, as she’s helping clean the place. Hangman quit the business. Cherry is getting her own place. 

On the off-hand, Cherry asks Rooster to grab her purse. He sees that there’s a gun in it. She says the world isn’t what it used to be. He begs her to leave and just be with him. Just love him. Isn’t he enough? It’s sad. 

This is when she also breaks the news to Rooster. Her and Hangman, during a coked up excursion in Las Vegas, got married. And when they came down, they decided they were gonna give things a go. Maybe not entirely monogamous, but devoted to each other. Rooster asks her if she regrets it. She says she doesn’t know yet, but she likes how warm he is in bed. Rooster is heartbroken, but also wise. He knows what they have isn’t going to last. They love each other the way an addict loves their next fix. There’s no longevity. What he and her have? That’s forever. He knows. He knows it. 

Los Angeles, CA October, 1985

Cherry is on the cover of Playboy in September. Her mother sends her a letter. She lets Rooster read it. It’s very, very sad. She’s upset about it. 

Rooster asks if she wants to go dancing to cheer her up. Bell Bottoms closed. So they just go for a swim. He skinny dips, just to cheer her up. She does, too. They almost have sex. Almost. But they stop in time. 

Her and Jake aren’t doing very well in their marriage. Their relationship is tumultuous and immature. They fight over everything…their next fix, their marriage, their cars, their jobs. They’ve lost their friendship.  

Los Angeles, CA January 1987

Cherry’s parents both die in a car accident. She finds out that they were in an immense amount of debt when they died, but they never asked her for help. She thinks that is sad and funny. Cherry would’ve given them money if she knew, but she didn’t. Her, Hangman, and Rooster go home to help with the house. She sees old people she’s fucked. Everyone ogles at her because they recognize her. The women give her hateful looks.

Her brother is terrible to her. Her parents left her nothing in their will--just what was in her childhood bedroom. She sees it--the way she left it when she was 21. Nothing is touched. They basically just boarded it up. 

It’s melancholy. 

Her, Rooster, and Hangman all squeeze into her childhood bed and sleep there together. It’s the worst sleep of her life. Between her husband and her soulmate. 

Los Angeles, CA February 1988

Rooster introduces Cherry to his fiance. Her name is Samantha. She’s an accountant. Samantha is older. Like maybe close to forty. She’s beautiful. They all have dinner together. Samantha very obviously doesn’t like Cherry, but she’s very cordial towards her. Cherry is becoming very insecure as she ages. She liked being the pretty young thing on the scene, liked that everyone was always calling her a baby. But she’s not so super young anymore. 

Jake, Cherry, and Bradley all go to dinner together to meet Samantha. Samantha and Bradley haven’t been together for very long. Cherry just got back from Italy and she’s talking a lot about herself. But she’s also coming to terms with the fact that she has an expiration date and it’s approaching. She’s struggling. Maybe she even talks about getting plastic surgery (which Samantha is super against). 

She kind of fishes for compliments, very vain, always checking her makeup. Samantha is a very forward-thinking woman who can hold her own. But she has very rigid standards of what she considers feminist and what she doesn’t. 

Samantha doesn’t like Cherry. Cherry is kind of being a bit off-putting and being touchy with Rooster and Jake. 

They get into a discussion about porn.

Samantha says Rooster regrets doing porn. And Cherry is asking him but he’s on the spot. He talks about how it was predatory and how Dennis used them, but her whole perspective is like sure, maybe it was predatory, but look at the fucking house we’re sitting in. Look at the fucking gold chain you’re wearing. Look at the fucking steak we’re eating right now, with the perfect marble. And Jake and Rooster say that Cherry got the worst of it and she’s like yeah, I did. But what do I have to complain about when I’m sitting here in a Chanel dress, wearing a string of saltwater pearls? 

So then Samantha brings up how when her and Rooster have kids, and if they have sons, they don’t want them to watch porn. Porn has such a negative effect on youth and it makes men violent. Cherry takes that as a personal offense. She says she doesn’t make men violent by having violent sex on camera--she has to have violent sex on camera because that’s what men want. 

Her and Hangman hang around after dinner, when Samantha goes home. Her and Rooster don’t live together yet. They all talk about the years that have passed and how times have changed.

They talk about children. What they all want in life. And Cherry and Hangman tell Rooster that they’re getting a divorce--a very amicable one. As soon as they decided to divorce, they became friends again. They tell Rooster, while laughing, about the last fight that they had. Cherry called Jake a cokehead loser who couldn’t get over his dead gay boyfriend. Jake called Cherry an orphaned sell-out with too-big tits. Rooster doesn’t think any of this is funny. 

Los Angeles, CA November-December, 1988

Cherry has an ectopic pregnancy. She has one egg drop and it ends up detaching in the wrong spot. She was a whole conversation with Rooster about it. Rooster comes to her in the hospital and won’t leave until she finishes eating. She’s very obviously struggling, even if she’s trying to still be fun and flirty and sexy. He asks whose it was. She says maybe Jake’s, but it’s anyone’s guess. 

He leaves but waits outside the door. He hears Cherry sobbing. When he walks back in, she’s curled into herself and facing away from him. He just crawls into bed behind her and holds her tight. 

The next month, Rooster invites Cherry over for dinner. Samantha is there. Samantha and Rooster are looking into fertility treatment because they want to start a family. And Cherry tries to talk to Samantha about it, but Samantha implies that her issues are different from Cherry’s and that she’s always known she was gonna have a hard time conceiving. 

So first of all, Cherry asks Rooster if he wants kids. And he says that maybe he does. And she says you’ve never told me that. And Samantha is like why would he? And Cherry says that they were together. And Samantha has hit the ceiling at this point. So she’s like yeah, he told me about it. You couldn’t stop fucking other men. 

Rooster stands up for Cherry. And Cherry and Rooster have an argument. Cherry is trying to be everybody’s baby and Rooster is upset by all this. She’s smoking a cigarette in his house and he tells her to take it outside. And she’s surprised bc he always bends the rules for her. And she won’t let Samantha take that. 

But then he says that they’re engaged. She isn’t the woman in his life. 

She leaves before she starts crying. 

Los Angeles, CA July 1989

It’s the night before the wedding. Cherry quit the industry a few months ago. Everyone’s at the hotel. It’s late. She’s sitting at the hotel bar by herself, nursing a glass of wine. Rooster ends up coming down. They talk all night. It’s a lot of reflection--all her time in the industry, what she learned about love and sex. What she learned about men and herself. And he just loves her so much. 

Cherry does not intend to ruin the wedding. She just tells Rooster that she wishes their timing had been better. She wishes she had been ready. She wishes she was his age. He tells her it’s too late for that now. That he is a good man with good intentions and there is a woman upstairs who he said he would marry. Cherry, very sadly and sweetly, says she knows he is a man of his word. She tells him that he is going to make a perfect husband and a perfect father. She squeezes his hand. 

She goes upstairs to her hotel room and feels immense grief, but relief as well. The back and forth is finally ending. There is no more will-they-won’t-they with them. He’s moving on. She is heartbroken, but genuinely very happy for him. 

There’s a knock on the door. It’s Rooster and he’s holding his suitcase. He tells her that she’s always had horrible timing. She says she’s been late to everything in her life. He leaves with Cherry.

Sonoma, CA December 1992

Cherry is 35 and Rooster is 45. They own a vineyard in Sonoma. They’re preparing things for Christmas with everyone. They make love before the fireplace. They’re lovingly getting their home ready for all their friends. They’ve got a couple dogs and some horses. Life is good--sweet. 

A few of them have kids, most everyone is married. Cherry and Rooster got married a few months after the wedding was called off. They’re happy. They’re really, really happy. They look through photo albums while they’re getting things out. All the photos Rooster took of her over the years--some of them are devastatingly sexy. But others are sexy in a quieter way--like a picture he took without her knowing, one where she’s sitting at the end of her bed and rolling lace stockings up her legs. Another where she’s sucking her finger in the reflection of the mirror to get the lipstick off her teeth. And some of the pictures aren’t sexy at all--they’re just beautiful. Cherry on their honeymoon in Maine, bundled up in a sweater with a scarf in her hair waving in the wind. Cherry behind the wheel of Rooster’s cherry-red car, grinning sweetly with her big sunglasses on. Cherry first-thing in the morning, hair messy and toothbrush hanging out of her mouth. It’s the way he’s always seen her, which is not the way most men of the world see her: as a person. As herself. As something to be loved and not just fucked.

Fin.                           

[roosterforme]

if tg3 happens be prepared to see some domestic bradley shit bc we know he'll be married or have a kid of his own in the 3rd one. they wouldn't have family be such a big topic in the last one if they werent planning on him having his own besides mav....also the return of the bradleystache?! keleigh better let him keep it this time

Don't worry, nonny. We already wrote it.

@mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls

[roosterforme]

BRRRRR

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@agreatandhonorablesoldier​ asked: Bradley + Body Parts

[nero4te]

Will. Not. Recover. From.This...Ever

[bradshawsbaby]

I miss the stache so much 🥲

[roosterbruiser]

𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐙-𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐒 — 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐘 "𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑" 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐖 𝐗 𝐘𝐎𝐔 (𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐀𝐍) 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟎𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 𝐁𝐘 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐋𝐘 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓. 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐁𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐈𝐒 𝟏𝟖+. 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐘 𝐁𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐁𝐄��𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆. 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐄𝐗, 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐂 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄, 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐆 𝐔𝐒𝐄, 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐃𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍, 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐏, 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍, 𝐒𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍, 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐔𝐄𝐒, 𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐓-𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆. 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟎𝐒. 𝐈𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑.

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃

𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐙-𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐋𝐨𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗. 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭. 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐀𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐧, 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐚. 𝐖𝐢𝐝𝐞-𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧-𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲’𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐍𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐚. 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐧, 𝐚 𝐯𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥-𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞. 𝐀𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭, 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐝-𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟-𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫, 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟. 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐨𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬. 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞, 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐬, 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨, 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐫, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬, 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫-𝐬𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐬𝐰𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲-𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐥, 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐮𝐠𝐥𝐲, 𝐦𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐮𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭. 𝐒𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐳𝐞.

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 —𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟔𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟖

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟔𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟖

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟗𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟖

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟑𝟏𝐒𝐓, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟖

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 —𝐒𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐘, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝟑𝐑𝐃, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝟏𝟑𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐅𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝟏𝟒𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝟐𝟔𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝟏𝟗𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐍 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝟐𝟑𝐑𝐃, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝟐𝟒-𝟐𝟓𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐌𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟗𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝟗𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝟐𝟑𝐑𝐃, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 —𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐃, 𝐌𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟏𝐒𝐓-𝟑𝐑𝐃, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 —𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐃, 𝐌𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟒𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟏𝟑𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟏𝟕𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝟏𝟏𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 ��𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 —𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐘, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝟏𝟕𝐓𝐇-𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝟐𝟎𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐖𝐎 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐈𝐗 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟗

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟎

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 —𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐃, 𝐌𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟏

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟐

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟑

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐄, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟒

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐖𝐎 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟓

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐅𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟖

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 —𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 —𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟗

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 —𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐌𝐀, 𝐂𝐀—𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟐

[roosterforme]

The "Stache! Stache! Stache!" reminded of a line from Ted Lasso where Sassy is talking about Ted and she goes "I just wanna grab him by the ears and ride his mustache like a jetski." And it made me cackle when applied to Bradley. But like, yeah. Absolutely.

ABSOLUTELY. RIDE IT LIKE A JET SKI. My husband tried to grow a Rooster stache for me, but he looked exactly like Ted Lasso.

[roosterforme]

Forever bewitched by the stache.

Miles Teller as Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw in Top Gun: Maverick (2022)

[bradshawsbaby]

This picture keeps popping up on Pinterest and I just think it’s the cutest. Bradley Bradshaw would definitely be kissing you like this all the time 😘

[roosterbruiser]

𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐙-𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐒 — 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: ��.𝟕𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕��𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟔𝐓𝐇, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟖

You know this is supposed to be a punishment.

Really, you know that.

You’re in trouble; you made your mama cry and your daddy won’t look at you and your brother called you a whore. But gliding down the old wood and bobbing between long-haired boys that let their eyes fall to your chest, with the warm wind billowing through your hair and the sun kissing your cheeks, you don’t feel like this is punishment at all. 

Your cousin Jenny let you borrow her bikini, a flimsy crochet thing the color of a nectarine, and your Aunt Lydia let you borrow her old roller skates so you and Jenny could roller skate down the Venice Boardwalk. Jenny painted your nails cherry-red this morning and did your hair real nice. She’s a whiny sixteen-year-old, one that doesn't have any sisters or friends, and you’re supposed to be keeping an eye on her since you’re her older cousin. 

“Wait up!” Jenny calls to you as you glide down the boardwalk with a grin. “Stop going so fast! Not fair!” 

Glancing at her over your shoulder, you stick your tongue out at her. She’s fumbling around the wood, her limbs strewn about like a newborn animal.  

“Mellow out, Jenny!” You call to her, laughing. “I’ll catch you on the flip-side!”

She whines, a pitiful and whiny noise, when you continue without her. 

The sun is sitting high up in the turquoise sky. The air is thick with salt and patchouli and you don’t feel like you’re just the visiting cousin from the chicken farm. You don’t feel like this punishment--being sent away from Nebraska all the way to California to spend Christmas with your dad’s sister--is an adequate one. This has been the best Christmas of your life, really. 

Chest heaving, you hoist yourself up on the ipe wood railing to catch your breath and give Jenny a chance at keeping up with you. You kick your legs, your feet heavy from the striped skates on your feet. 

All the sounds around you are overwhelming: the waves crashing against the sand, the reggae music floating from the buskers just down the way, the hollow sound of footfalls and wheels on old wood, all the chatter of the thousands of people bustling around you in their Daisy Dukes and halter tops and and sweatbands. It’s overwhelming because you're not just suddenly being around so many people and under the hot sun instead of knee-deep in the snow, but all the life. Life is just buzzing around you, happening all at once. And it isn't chickens with their heads cut off, either--it's real life, actual people.

Your face is tilted towards the sun and your throat is growing warmer and warmer with joy. 

The longer you’re here, the more you feel like this is the place you’re supposed to be.

Dennis Goldman had spotted you from a mile away--he always claims that he can practically smell stardom on people--and watched you from a distance as you left the whiny girl you were skating with behind, bobbing and weaving around cyclists and swimmers with your breasts bouncing in that flimsy bikini top. Dennis knows a good pair of tits when he sees them--and boy, did he see them on you. 

You’re perfect. Your hair is done up nice, not too tight and not too loose--that is to say you don't look too much like a hippie or a square. And the face your hair is framing is a good one, Hell, even a great one. There is a sprig of freckles on your hairline, dark things kissed into your flesh. Dennis knows that freckles like that aren't earned sunbathing or skating down the boardwalk. No, no--they're earned out in the pasture with sweat dripping down the delicate column of your throat.

There is a ruggedness about your beauty--one accentuated by that too-big grin and those wide eyes and long lashes. He can't see any tan lines on your shoulders, which Dennis decides is further proof that you are not native to California. Your legs go on for a mile, sculpted and marked with bruises from manual labor. Your chest, covered just by that skimpy bit of yarn, gleams beneath the sun.

When he watches you heave yourself up on the railing, kicking your feet and looking up at the sky, he decides to go in for the kill.

Dennis is a short man, shorter than you by about an inch and a half, but his personality fills all that empty space above his bald head. When he saunters up to you, a fat cigar between his pink lips, you are watching an airplane cut the sky with your head tilted back, your jaw flexed.    

“Cigarette?” Dennis asks you, pulling your eyes away from the sky and onto his broad forehead. 

He’s smiling up at you, plumes of thick smoke tickling your nostrils as he offers you a thin cigarette from a heavy-looking gold case. It looks expensive--so do his thick-framed, tinted glasses. 

“No thanks,” you smile politely, shielding your eyes from the sun above. “Don’t you smoke cigars?” 

Dennis chews on his stogie and grins--his teeth are whiter than the sand just behind you, whiter than the clouds drifting across the sky. He stuffs the gold cigarette case back into the pocket of his corduroy jacket and smiles. 

“I’m a gentleman,” he tells you, winking. And so far, he isn’t giving you any reason to believe that he isn’t a gentleman. Not that you mind rude men, anyway. “I always keep cigarettes on me for the ladies.” 

At that, you perk up. A lady. He fashions you a lady. 

“Bitchin’,” you grin, running your hand through your hair.

Dennis glances around the crowd, clocking all the thick-mustached men ogling at your tits and the way it makes you straighten your spine. Dennis knows, right away, that you’re the kind of girl that likes to be looked at. And he likes girls that like to be looked at. 

“Are you here by yourself?” He asks. 

You shake your head. 

“My kid cousin’s around here somewhere. Lost her in the crowd.”

He saw you leave her behind, sticking your tongue out at her like a brat. But he just nods, taking a long drag of his cigar. 

“Aren’t you cold?” He asks. 

It’s curious--you’re one of the only people on the Venice Boardwalk wearing a bikini top. You’re surprised that more people aren’t wearing them, the salt air a balmy seventy-three degrees. It doesn’t matter that it is just a day after Christmas--this feels like summer to you. 

“I’m hot-blooded,” you tell Dennis, kicking your legs softly. 

He glances down at your scuffed skates and lets his eyes drag all the way up the length of your legs as you watch with a bated breath. 

“You look it, babydoll,” Dennis tells you, puffing on his cigar. “I’m Dennis Goldman.” 

He puts his beefy hand in the air between you and you shake it with ease, biting down on your lower lip as your cheeks grow warm. 

“How’s it going, pops?” You ask. 

He laughs, squeezing your hand and bringing it to his lips to press a wet kiss to your knuckles. You’re still flushed, your eyebrows pulled together.

“Decent,” Dennis answers, stubbing his cigar on the railing beside you and flicking the butt into the sand below. “What’s your name, kid?”

“My name is Dennis, too,” you say with a grin. 

“Is that right?” Dennis asks, biting a smile. 

“No,” you answer, sighing. “Just haven’t decided on a fake name yet. Gonna use Dennis as a placeholder for now. You dig?” 

Dennis nods, laughing. 

“I can dig it, I can dig it. How old are you, anyway, babydoll?”

You hum. 

“Turned twenty-one in November,” you tell him.

“Is November just a placeholder, too?” 

Then you laugh, shaking your head. 

“Nope,” you answer. “It’s the real deal.” 

Dennis eyes you up and down again, making sure you’re watching his drifting gaze. Then he points at you, eyes narrowed in concentration through his purple-tinted glasses. 

“I bet you’re a Scorpio,” he says, cocking a brow. 

You shake your head, blowing a raspberry and giving him a thumbs down. 

“Ah,” he says, nodding. “A Sagatarius, then, huh?” 

“Told you I’m hot-blooded,” you tell him.  

“Where you from?” Dennis asks. 

You size him for a minute, chewing on your bottom lip. 

“Guess,” you say. 

Dennis likes you already--you like to play games. 

“East or west?” 

“Everything’s east of California,” you tell him. 

 Dennis is imagining how well you would do in front of a camera. You would keen from the attention of a man--teasing and laughing, down for anything. He can tell you’re open just from the way you’re chiding him already. 

“Somewhere cold,” Dennis starts and you nod. He sucks in a breath, raking a hand through the few wispy hairs gelled to his head. “Somewhere with lots of land.” You nod again. He narrows his eyes at you. “You a farm girl, babydoll?” 

“Chicken farm,” you tell him. He doesn’t miss the sneer. 

“Kansas,” he guesses. You shake your head. “Arkansas.” You shake your head again. “Nebraska.” 

“Ding, ding, ding! You win!” You call to him, laughing. 

He smirks. 

“What do I win, then?” 

Your lips tingle. Heat is pooling between your legs, like it always does whenever the prospect of sex wanders into any of your conversations. Dennis isn’t cute--not by your standards--but he has thick fingers, thick like ten fat stogies attached to his hands. And you don’t care much about what men look like--just what they taste like, feel like. You're more concerned about what men can do for you.

“I’ll suck your cock,” you tell him, holding his gaze. 

Dennis isn’t shocked--doesn’t blink in surprise or stumble back. He tuts, nods, and then moves to check the fat watch on his hairy wrist.

You’ve said--and done this--plenty of times. But the farmers' sons and grocery store workers and bankers back home usually blush and stutter a little bit before they submit to your seduction. The fact that Dennis isn’t shocked makes a warmth settle deep in your belly. You fucking love California.   

“Tell you what,” Dennis says, leaning against the railing. “I’ve got a meeting with a client at a quarter ‘til. What do you say you tag along, babydoll?” 

Your mouth waters.

“So, you don’t want me to suck your cock?” You ask, not wounded but close to it. 

He watches you deflate a bit. 

“Of course I do, babydoll. I’m just a man after all,” Dennis says. “But I’m not the moneymaker here. My client is. And I think your services could be put to best use on him.”

“I’m not a hooker,” you tell him, crossing your arms. 

He shakes his head, holding his hands up in defense. 

“Trust me, I know that. I can smell a hooker from a mile away,” Dennis says, grinning. He thinks very highly of his sense of smell. “You’re just a girl that likes to have fun, right?” 

“Yeah,” you say, relieved that someone understands you finally. “I do like to have fun.”

And because you like to have fun, you're not allowed back on the family farm. But you don't say that. 

“You ever been to the disco?” He asks you. 

Slowly, you shake your head. 

“No discos in Nebraska,” you answer. 

“There’s plenty of discos here. I’ll show you around some of them if you stick with me.”  

Your mama used to tell you that you had no better judgment. She used to say that you didn’t think about the after or the before and only worried about the during. She hated that you went through life head first, couldn’t stand watching you briskly float through time. As much as you didn’t think about the consequences of your choices, they never seemed to touch you anyway. 

So--what’s the worst that could happen?

Casually, you look out over the crowd. You can’t see Jenny anywhere. You’re supposed to be keeping an eye on her, you know, but she lives in California. She’ll figure it out. You don’t really care if it pisses off your aunt.  

That heat is growing between your legs--the one that can only be sequestered by cock.

“What kinda car you got?” 

Dennis lets his glasses fall down his nose as he leans in close to you, beaming. 

“‘78 DeVille.”

“White?” You ask, leaning closer to him. 

He can smell the sunscreen on your skin and the cheap body spray on your throat. 

“Powder blue.” 

You bite down hard on your lip.

“Lead the way, pops.” 

 Rooster’s already waiting in Dennis’ office. It’s too fucking hot in here and Rooster is just about burning up in his maroon turtleneck and bell-bottoms, chewing on the butt of a cigar as he impatiently taps his fingers on the arm of the leather couch he’s fairly certain that he’s stuck to. 

Dennis is running late. He’s always fucking running late. Rooster’s already almost finished with his cigar and Dennis is showing no signs of showing up. He digs the toe of his leather loafer into the ruby-colored shag carpet, wishing that Dennis would invest in some fucking air conditioning in this place.

“Fuckin’ Dennis, man,” Rooster sighs, a plume of smoke descending in the low light of the room and seeping into all the walnut wooded furniture. “Phony.”

This was a rare day off for Rooster--until he got called in for a meeting with Dennis at the office of Goldman Homevideos. Dennis hadn’t said much on the phone, just that he wanted to talk with Rooster about some fine print on his contract. Rooster would much rather be back at his house in the hills, laying out in his pool, eating caviar, and listening to the radio now that they’re not just playing Christmas music anymore.    

When the doorknob turns behind him, just as Rooster leans back into the couch and combs a hand through his curls, he sighs loudly and stubs out his cigar on the crystal ashtray beside him.

“Christ, Dennis,” Rooster calls out, checking his watch. “Take your fuckin’ time, why don’t you?” 

Dennis clears his throat. 

Rooster finally turns around, his brows blanched, and then he sees you. You’re standing beside Dennis, smiling softly, your hair kissed by the wind and your cheeks pinched by the sun. You’re in a flimsy bikini top and tiny pair of shorts, a pair of old roller skates slung over your shoulder and leaving your feet bare on the carpet. 

“Is that any way to greet a lady?” Dennis asks, crossing his arms with a small smile.

“Didn’t know there was a lady,” Rooster says apologetically, standing up and holding his hips. “Sorry about that, kid.” 

You shrug, grinning. 

“Am I a kid or a lady?” You ask Rooster. 

That’s the first time you see him smile--his lips pink and curved around white teeth, his mustache tickling his nose. He laughs, too, a short and dry thing as Dennis pats your shoulder and gestures to you. 

“She’s got a quick wit, this one,” Dennis says. You keen at his praise, burrowing your toes in the soft carpet. “Rooster, we’ll go over your contract another time. Why don’t you show our guest to her seat?” 

Rooster knows what’s going to happen. He’s done this plenty of times. Dennis will bring him in when there’s any newcomer that he wants to try out, essentially using Rooster as a human dildo to feel out if they’ve got that star quality Dennis is so sure he can sniff out. Rooster already knows that he’s going to fuck you. 

“You can sit on the sofa,” Rooster smiles softly, nodding towards the leather. “Next to me.” 

You don’t feel out of your element somehow--you didn’t in the car on your way over here despite it being the nicest vehicle you’ve ever touched, you didn’t walking into the little bungalow-style office with Dennis, and you still don’t now as you sit on the couch beside Rooster. Just being here, in this low-lit room that smells like cashmere and leather, you have that feeling in your gut that this is just somewhere you’re supposed to be.  

From what you’ve gathered, this is about sex. You aren’t entirely sure what it is about sex, but it’s something that piques your interest. You’re already wet--and you have been since you mentioned sucking Dennis’ cock--and your fingers are beginning to tremble in anticipation.

Rooster sinks into the couch beside you--he smells like vetiver and tobacco, the scent thick on his tan skin. He smooths his mustache out and sits with his legs spread; it makes your mouth water. 

“What’s your name?” Rooster asks, glancing at you. 

Dennis smirks, settling into the chair behind his desk. 

“She won’t give it up that easily,” Dennis says for you, winking. 

“Just call me kid,” you say, shrugging. “Or lady. Whichever you think fits me best.” 

Rooster nods, chuckling. 

“I can dig it,” he says. “Where you from?” 

You shrug, crossing your legs and sighing.

“Around,” you answer.

Rooster laughs. 

“I think I’ve been there before,” Rooster teases. 

Now you’re the one laughing--it’s a good sound, one that is as sweet as the lips that are parting for it to fill the office they’re sitting in. 

“She’s a farm-girl,” Dennis answers for you. “Rooster here specializes in farm-girls.” 

You raise an eyebrow at Rooster, who rolls his eyes and adjusts on the sofa.

“What’s the skinny on that?” 

Rooster’s growing hot in here again. He isn’t necessarily proud of a lot of his earlier work--and he considers the first ten years of his career to be early--and grows uncomfortable when people bring up Cockwalk; all five volumes. 

“You ever seen Cockwalk, babydoll?” 

You’ve never watched a pornographic video in your life. 

“She’s a farm-girl,” Rooster reminds Dennis, glancing at you. “Bet you haven’t seen anything more than a Playboy, huh, kid?” 

You nod--besides all the sex you’ve experienced up close, you aren’t very knowledgeable about erotica.  

“Well, Cockwalk is what really shot Rooster off--and what gave him the name Rooster. Top-grossing porn film of 1975--and 1976. We’ll show it to you sometime.”    

Dennis lights up another cigar, letting his elbow rest on the desk. 

“Babydoll here,” Dennis says, gesturing to you. “She offered to suck my cock earlier on the Venice Boardwalk. Didn’t you?” He takes a long drag and then smiles as you nod, leaning back into the sofa and crossing your legs. “I was flattered, of course. Especially since I could smell the talent on her from a mile away.”

Rooster wants to roll his eyes. He flatters all the newcomers like this--drifters, hippies, punks. He calls Rooster in to fuck them, smokes a couple cigars and unbuttons the first few buttons of his shirt, and then decides whether or not they’re good enough to bring on board.  

You’re hot--blood spreading across your chest and belly. That heat is pooling between your legs again; it’s starting to get uncomfortable. 

The air is thick with the scent of cigar smoke now. 

“But I told her to wait. So she could meet you. So--babydoll, this is Rooster. Rooster, this is babydoll. She’ll be fucking you today. You down for that?”

You swallow hard. 

“Can I ask a few questions first?” You ask. 

Dennis nods. 

“Where are we?” 

“Los Angeles, babydoll,” Dennis answers with a grin. He takes another long drag of his cigar and then exhales it through his nose. “This is my office. I own Goldman Homevideos.” 

You nod, biting your lip. 

“And Goldman Homevideos…” you start, shifting on the sofa and glancing at Rooster, who’s looking at you very softly. “What kind of homevideos do you make?” 

“Adult films,” Dennis tells you, puffing on his cigar again. “Erotic ones. Stag.”

Rooster watches a smile twitch your lips as warmth floods the tips of your ears. 

“Porn,” you say, chewing the word. It tastes good in your mouth. 

Dennis nods. 

“And you want me to be in your adult films maybe. You’re not jiving me, right?” 

“You wound me, babydoll. Rooster--I ever shit you?” 

Rooster shakes his head, resting his chin in his palm. 

“But now you want to watch me have sex with Chicken?” 

“It’s Rooster,” Rooster corrects, amusement tugging on his lips. 

You glance at him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. You lick your lips, tilt your head, and mouth sorry. But he knows that you aren’t. It makes him smile. 

He likes you--likes that you’re smart enough to ask Dennis questions and feel out the situation before going any further. It’s what he should’ve done all those years ago and what he wished other girls would do before they stripped.        

“So, Dennis Goldman, you want me to have sex with Rooster while you watch?” 

Rooster decides that he likes the way you say his name--your voice is soft and sweet, but it doesn't lack a certain gumption. 

“Bingo,” Dennis grins. “If I see what I like, I can give you a very comfortable life. Assuming you’re willing to make some movies with me.” 

You turn to Rooster now, smiling softly. 

“He just spring this on you, big boy?” 

Rooster barks out a laugh. 

“Rooster’s the best in the business,” Dennis tells you, watching your tongue poke out and coat your plump bottom lip in a sheen of saliva. “He doesn’t mind a surprise every now and then. Especially when that surprise is a sweet little thing like you, babydoll.”

“And you wanna fuck me?” You narrow your eyes at Rooster slightly, tilting your head. 

Usually, if someone asked Rooster that, he’d just respond the way he always does: I always wanna fuck everyone. That isn’t necessarily true--there are plenty of people he wouldn’t fuck if he wasn’t getting paid to do it. But looking at you--your wind-swept hair and your breasts straining against the fabric covering them, your glassy eyes, your glossy lips--he does want to fuck you. And he’s starting to feel better about coming in on his day off. 

He reaches out, brows knit, and lets his thumb drag across the highest point of your cheekbone. Your skin is plush and soft beneath his fingers. A tingle runs down your spine and settles between your legs. 

“Sure, I wanna fuck you, kid.” 

Then he turns to Dennis and nods towards the record player--that’s one thing about Rooster: he always has to have music playing when he films and fucks. Dennis, with the cigar still between his grinning lips, leans over and puts on a record. 

Too Hot To Stop by Funk starts playing--you’ve never heard this song before.  

You don’t break your gaze away from Rooster as you reach behind you and pull the strings of your bikini top. It falls in a heap on your lap and Rooster, a breath bated in his beautiful throat, smooths his mustache before grabbing the bra and setting it on the ground beside you. It almost strikes you as a soft thing to do--him taking your discarded clothing from your lap and setting it beside the two of you. Most men you’ve fucked don’t even care to not tear your blouse or smear your lipstick. 

Rooster scoots closer to you, saliva pooling on his tongue at the sight of your naked chest and the blush that’s covered it. He holds the back of your neck--not gently but certainly not roughly either--to keep you still as he ducks down and licks a hot stripe between your breasts. The sensation has your eyes fluttering already, your hands coming to rest on his thighs. 

He moves to cup your left breast, tweaking your nipple between his rough fingers, and encloses his mouth around your right nipple. He sucks harshly, humming against your skin. You taste like sunscreen and body spray, your skin almost salty from the sea breeze that tickled it earlier. He likes the taste of you--not that he’s very picky about the way things taste anymore--and the way your chest rumbles with a moan. 

This is the only moment today that you’ve felt a bit out of your element: what Rooster is doing to you feels good, like really fucking good. Hot beads of pleasure are spiking up your spine and settling between your vertebrae and your body is keening for more, more, more. Whenever you’ve fucked in the past, you’ve been in control. Meaning that you would suck an average cock and then spread your legs and get fucked. There’s been some pawing here and there, over the bra or under the blouse, but no one’s ever done this to you before. 

To Rooster, this is almost mechanical. He knows how to make women wet--it’s literally his job--and he knows what gets him going. When he lets his tongue flick your nipple, his eyes dragging up your flexed throat to your parted lips and closed eyes--you release a sweet moan and instinctively curl your fingers in his hair. 

Girl, it's something about your act / And I sure do like your style

“That’s good,” Dennis tells you. He’s still watching closely from behind the desk, his feet resting beside his notepad as he finishes up his cigar. “Rooster--take her pants off.” 

Rooster leans away from you and you almost whine at the sudden lack of his mouth on you. You lean back on the sofa, cheeks burning, and grin at Rooster as you settle your legs on either side of him. 

He hooks his fingers in your shorts and pulls them down swiftly--you’re not wearing underwear. The denim covering his crotch is growing tight now--and the cashmere wrapped around his throat. 

“Real pretty thing you are, babydoll,” Dennis says. “Show her your mouth, Rooster.” 

Sometimes Rooster feels like a puppet attached to strings, limbs flopping here and there at the command of Dennis or whoever else is behind the camera. Even when he’s having sex off camera, in his own home, sometimes he feels like he’s waiting for direction. But he listens all the same, smoothing his flat palms down your body and grabbing your hips. 

You’re looking up at him, lips parted in a pout, and your chest is heaving. You’re already so wet and just him grabbing your hips and pulling you up, pulling your cunt closer to his mouth as he settles lower on the couch--you feel like this is all building to something. 

Maybe it's the way / That you ride around 

“This alright, kid?” Rooster asks, peppering kisses along the soft skin of your inner-thighs. 

You’re squirming below him, your eyes lustful and dark. Sinking your teeth into your lower lip, you nod. 

“Do it the French way, baby,” you mutter to him. 

Dennis barks out a laugh, clapping. 

“What a line, doll!” 

Rooster secures your legs over his shoulders, cupping your ass, holding your body close to his face. Sometimes he feels like he does this so much that it’s ingrained in who he is as a person. He can just let go, think about something else, and have some broad writhing above him. But right now--he feels okay with being in his body, experiencing all of this. 

He licks a languid stripe between your folds and kisses your clit. The sounds you’re making are entirely authentic: he knows it, you know it, and Dennis knows it. Your eyes are closed tight and your fingers are woven in his hair and your thighs are quivering just from one kitten lick from Rooster. 

You taste good--you taste real. He can tell that you didn’t use perfumed douche before this and he actually thoroughly enjoys that. You taste like a human person. You taste like desire and arousal and skin and God, his pants are getting tighter and tighter. 

“Don’t worry about anyone hearing you, babydoll,” Dennis tells you. “They’re used to it by now.” 

This pleasure you’re feeling is entirely real. It’s red-hot and captures every single one of your senses. You can hardly hear anything above the sounds of your erratic heartbeat and the mewls and moans falling from your lips. Rooster is sucking at your clit, his mustache burning the delicate skin of your cunt, and this feels so fucking good. 

Girl, I'm out to get your love / And I'm too hot to stop now 

Rooster takes this opportunity to look up at you as he mercilessly sucks at your clit. You’re an undeniably pretty thing--especially when you’re naked and writhing above him. But there’s something else about you, something about the way heat covers your chest, something about the way your lashes bat against your cheeks that makes him feel like you’re different. You’re young--which isn’t different--but you don’t seem all that inexperienced. He doesn’t know what to make of that. He supposes, maybe, that he sees a bit of himself in you in that regard. 

“Go ahead and give Rooster a big head,” Dennis grins. “Tell him how good he is with his tongue.” 

“Your tongue feels fucking dynamite,” you moan out, back arching off the leather sofa. “You done this before or something?” 

Rooster almost laughs, but he’s able to just moan against your clit and have you cursing and heaving above him. Dennis does bark out a laugh, shaking his head lightly. 

“Oh, I like that mouth of yours, babydoll,” Dennis tells you. “Real sharp.” 

He watches Rooster eat you out with calmness, tapping his fingers lightly on his leather chair. You’re good looking--people would go crazy over a young, sexy thing like you. And he was right; you have great tits. But there’s also something about the way that you seem to be totally in your mind and body that makes you so appealing. You know where you are, you know what you’re doing, and you’re gonna say what’s on your mind. 

“Alright,” Dennis sighs, narrowing his eyes at Rooster’s gaze that is glued to your quivering lips. “Let’s see what else that mouth does. Take your pants off, Rooster. Babydoll, this is what you’ve been waiting for--suck his cock.” 

You’re close to cumming--which is something you’ve only done between the sheets of your own bed by yourself or in the front seat of a truck with John Duke that one time--but you don’t mind it when Rooster pulls away from you. 

Both of you meet each other’s gaze at the same time, his chin glossy with your arousal. And you bite a grin, slinking your leg off his shoulder. But before you can completely retract, Rooster brings his hand up to your calf and presses a short and wet kiss to the inside of your ankle. 

“You’re a romantic, aren’t you?” You ask him, nudging his head with your freshly-painted toes. “Bet you’re a Cancer.” 

Something tickles his belly. He is a Cancer. 

You see his brows knit, see the little surprised gap of his mouth. 

“I have a gift,” you tell him, winking. “Now, take your pants off.”

The carpet is plush beneath your knees--for a moment, you wonder if that’s why they chose it--and you’re flushed with anticipation as Rooster sits with his legs spread before you. 

This is the first time you’ve really sat back and looked at him. He is a striking man--one that looks like he was bred here in California. He’s sunkissed and muscular, his sideburns thick and his mustache neatly trimmed. He’s wearing an expensive sweater and even more expensive leather shoes and a thick gold chain rests against his broad throat. His hair is styled with gel that you mussed and his curls are thick and sandy. 

He starts to undo his own belt, his chest softening at the notion of this tension being relieved finally, but you lay your hands over his to stop him. The gesture is one that makes you dominant, especially when you smile coyly at him and reach for his belt, but your grip isn’t a harsh one. You hold him softly, but close enough that he can feel all the folds in your palms. 

You’re good with your hands--fast and dexterous--and Rooster’s got a big and pretty cock, one that springs up out of his briefs with pearls of precum shimmering in the lowlight.

“Jesus,” you mutter in awe, tracing all the thick veins that mark his cock. “You’re so big.” 

“Can you handle it?” Rooster asks, sort of in earnest. But a smirk is tugging on his lips. 

He’s teasing you--you like that. You like it whenever men can get on your level.

“Jinkies, I sure hope so Mr. Cockwalk,” you chide right back, grinning. 

Rooster laughs and Dennis claps again.  

“Beautiful,” Dennis encourages. 

He wishes he had his camera now--just this shot of you on your knees, elbows resting on Rooster’s parted knees as he leans his head back against the wall and gazes down at you with half-lidded eyes--there’s something special about this. There’s something really special about this. 

“Prove it, baby,” Rooster breathes. 

Instead of verbalizing your answer, you lean forward slightly and let all that hot saliva that’s pooled on your tongue drip out of your mouth and onto the crimson tip of his cock. He hisses at the intensity of the heat and the way your palm swiftly coaxes him, grasping him and swiftly pumping his head a few times to coat his cock in your spit. 

Instinctively, Rooster’s hips buck up and you keen at the reaction, letting your mouth come down on him. And fuck--you do know what you’re doing. Your mouth is wet and hot, supple as it wraps around his cock. 

Rooster’s gotten more blowjobs than probably half the men on this planet during his thirty-one years here. He likes them--who doesn’t like blow jobs? But there’s something about the way that you take him so well, something about the way you look up at him with your eyes squinted like you’d be smiling if your mouth wasn’t full of cock, that makes his chest tight. Even when the camera isn’t on him, Rooster knows what sounds to make--low, throaty groans--and what to do with his face--knit his brows, squint--but he feels like he’s forgetting all of that as you stare up at him. 

“How is she, Rooster?” Dennis asks. 

“Fucking great,” Rooster breathes, shuddering when you begin to bob your head and take him deeper. 

You even reach down and cup his balls, massaging them, as your other hand grips the base of his cock and keeps him in your throat. 

Rooster’s head falls back, eyes practically rolling to the back of his head. You’re taking him very deep, merciless in your tongue flicking along the sensitive skin on the underside of his cock. He’s bucking up into your mouth and you’re letting him, enjoying the flush tickling his ears. 

The realization hits Rooster like a fifty pound weight on his head--he snaps up to look at Dennis, his brows knit and his fingers digging into the leather sofa. 

“I’m about to cum,” he announces. 

He’s so used to announcing it out loud for everyone to hear that it doesn’t even strike him as strange anymore to tell the balding man behind his walnut desk that he’s about to shoot his load down your throat. 

At that, you pull back, letting your saliva seep down your chin as Rooster’s cock stands erect and red before you. 

Dennis is shocked, staring at you and Rooster with a grin. 

You look at Dennis over your shoulder, smiling softly. 

“Best in the business, huh?” 

Rooster laughs--he can take a joke. And then you glance at him, smiling yourself.

“Babydoll, why don’t you take Rooster for a ride?” 

Quickly, Rooster discards his sweater. You almost ogle at him--every single muscle in the human body is on display, gleaming in the light, adorned with curly, sandy chesthairs that settle beneath his gold chain. 

“Jesus,” you whisper to him, still on your knees. “Could you get any more California?”

Rooster beams at you, holding your hands and bringing you to your feet. 

“I can try,” he tells you, winking. Then he pats his thighs, arms parted for you to climb into when you’re ready. “Hop on. Ladies ride free.” 

The thought of Rooster fucking a man hadn’t even occurred to you--but a beautiful picture is painted in your mind for a fleeting moment. No one would ever do that back home in Nebraska, especially not admit it. But it doesn’t strike you as strange or dirty. In fact, it makes heat pool between your thighs again. 

Just before you straddle him, Rooster places a flat palm against your belly to pause you. He doesn’t look at Dennis, doesn’t care about what Dennis is going to say. 

“You wanna use a rubber, kid?” 

You shake your head. 

“I can’t have babies,” you say like it’s the most casual thing in the world. Rooster studies your face, blinking in surprise, but you don’t seem to clue him in on any upset in the matter. “I’m clean, too.” 

Rooster nods, gripping your hips and guiding you forward. 

When you’re close to Rooster, close enough that his forehead is resting against yours and his thighs are spreading your legs apart, you feel safe. Not the kind of safe you used to feel in your parents bed during a thunderstorm or in a really good hiding spot during a game of Hide N Seek with your brother. You feel safe like this guy isn’t an asshole and will probably stop whenever you want him to.

He’s holding onto your hips, his fingers dizzyingly long and digs into the meat of your legs when you sink down onto his cock. A string of curses tear through the air between the two of you and you gasp as he fills you up. 

“Christ, kid,” he mutters, “so tight.” 

That makes you clench around him and he gasps again, groaning. Fucking Christ--what are you doing to him?

When you’re fully seated, all of him inside of you, it takes everything in your power not to burst into tears. You’re so fucking relieved, that itch finally being scratched. He feels fucking perfect inside you, filling you up, pressing against something deep inside you that makes the lowest part of your belly bubble with pleasure. 

“You two look real good together,” Dennis praises.

Like Dennis’ voice snaps Rooster out of his lavender haze, he holds onto your hips and guides you up and down on his cock languidly. You hold onto his shoulders, gasping and crying out, throwing your head back in ecstasy. 

Dennis watches you carefully--you’re not acting. This is just the way you look when you have sex. You like to have sex; you like it a lot. What an asset a horny thing like you would be: all authentic pleasure, those pretty moans falling from your lips, those eyes rolling back in your head. You’ll be perfect. He’s sure of it. 

“Fuck,” you mutter to Rooster, your breath bated. “Jesus--fuck.” 

Rooster grins, letting you grind down on him and squeeze him tight. He’s not gonna last long--he knows it. Especially not when you lean forward and let your tits crash against his mouth. Hungrily, he finds your nipples and sucks relentlessly. Pulling his hair, you cry out. 

When Rooster pulls away from your chest, unable to continue sucking when you’re gripping his cock so fucking tightly, he does the only thing he can think to do--he presses his lips against yours. You kiss him back and it’s soft and sweet, very unlike what’s happening down below. And then he keeps kissing you, letting his tongue caress yours, letting your erect nipples feather across his naked chest. 

“You taste like Aperol,” you mutter against his lips, voice still drenched in pleasure. 

And then you smile against his mouth, and cry out when he delivers a particularly deep thrust. For some reason--that makes him cum. He holds you down over him and strains to get deeper and deeper inside of you. He pulses against your walls and you feel every moment of his release, resting your forehead against his. 

When it’s all said and done, when Dennis is genuinely delivering a round of applause for the two of you, you two catch your breath together. Your ears are ringing and his are, too. He’s smiling at you, a handsome and charming smile, and you’re biting your lip hard. 

“You know what you’re doing, kid,” he compliments, squeezing your hips. 

He’s still sitting deeply inside you. 

Coyly, you press some of his floppy curls from his forehead and then delicately stroke his mustache. He likes how soft you touch him--like you’re afraid to hurt him. 

“Aren’t so bad yourself,” you tell him. 

“We’ve gotta find a name for you, babydoll,” Dennis says, coming to sit down on the sofa beside you and Rooster. 

You stay where you are and Rooster doesn’t mind it one bit.

“You mean, like, I’m…?” 

Your toes are numb with excitement. 

Dennis grins at you, leaning over to pinch your cheek before patting it softly. 

“You’re gonna be a star, baby.”

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: 70S ROOSTER IS THE SUPREME ROOSTER

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

[roosterforme]

My husband grew the Rooster stache last year for my birthday (full disclosure, he looked more like Ted Lasso). Should I ask for it again?

[sometimesanalice]

“well,  i do feel a little better now that you’re here”

Bradley and SG please 👉🏼👈🏼 love your work Alexa ☺️☺️

Charlie, you gem! Thank you for always being so lovely and supportive! I hope you enjoy this one! 🥰

There You Are

Summary: It's the first time you're seeing Bradley in over 2 years. A lot of things have changed for you since the night he'd called you before that mission, but if there was one thing you knew you could count on, it was that he'd always be there for you.

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 1.5K

It had been nine days of radio silence.

Nine days since Bradley had called you in the night before he left for whatever classified mission the Navy had ordered him back to Top Gun for.

Nine days of wondering and hoping for the best. Trying to convince yourself that no news was good news.

Nine days of not tasting any of the meals you'd forced down as you waited. Not that you had much of an appetite anyways.

Nine days of tossing and turning in the bed you slept alone in, as you worked on untangling your life from your now ex boyfriend. The two of you agreeing to share the apartment like roommates until you found out about the promotion you were up for.

The one that might take you to San Diego. To the sunshine and ocean. To new opportunities. To your best friend.

You had pretty much dropped everything the moment you saw Bradley's name flash across the screen of your phone. The relief that washed over you at the sound of his voice- at his Hey, kid- nearly sent you to the floor.

While it had been another few days before you were able to get on a plane- he'd told you there were still some debriefs and paperwork that still needed to be done before him and his team could take leave- but you'd started packing your suitcase the moment the call ended.

You were antsy the entire six hour flight from Boston. You'd apologized more than once for nudging your neighbor's arm as you shifted and squirmed in your uncomfortable seat.

Hearing that final ding of the seatbelt off sign was music to your ears.

You'd called him the moment you stepped off the plane and Bradley picked up on the first ring.

"This feels familiar, doesn't it?" he rasps over the phone. You know he's thinking about the Spring Break you'd went to visit him at UVA. He'd picked you up at the airport then, just like he was doing now. "When is it my turn to be picked up at the airport, kid?"

Of course they'd dropped you off at the furthest gate in Terminal 1. You let out a huff and then set about threading your way through the throng of people standing between you and your best friend.

"Please, when's the last time you flew commercial?" you tease. "And it's not all of us can just waltz onto a Naval Base anytime we want."

"Hey, no one's stopping you from joining up. I'll even write you a letter of recommendation."

You weave around a stroller.

"Hmm, pass. But thank you for the generous offer."

And then past a couple holding hands.

He chuckles. "Guess that means I get to keep my title as designated chauffeur, huh?"

"Lucky you," you sing.

If you weren't on a mission, you'd consider stopping at the coffee shop that you're briskly gliding past for a quick cappuccino. But you had other priorities.

"Such a smart ass." You can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

You speed up your steps, the glimmer of the exit now in sight. "Why don't you say that to my face, Bradshaw."

"I'm trying to, but you're taking forever," he grouses, famously the more impatient one of the two of you. "I'm to the left of Arrivals gate, by the way."

You smile to yourself. Knowing him, he has probably been there for at least an hour keeping tabs on you with some flight tracker app he'd downloaded on his phone.

"It's a good thing you told me, I'm not sure if I'd recognize you with that bold fashion statement you're sporting on your face now."

Bradley scoffs indignantly. "You haven't even been here thirty minutes and you're already dunking on the 'stache, kid? It looks better in person, give it a chance."

You pull over just to the right of the Terminal exit, tucked next to a potted ficus, taking a moment to scan through the crowd of people waiting for their own travelers. He's not hard for you to find, standing head and shoulders above everyone else in the area.

Whole and healthy and here in front of you.

It's been a little over two years since you've last seen Bradley in person, he'd been stationed in Japan before his return to Top Gun. It was still hard to believe that the lanky boy you'd grown up with had become the well-built man standing across the way from you.

During his time in the Navy, he'd truly come into himself. The easy confidence in his posture was well earned and looked good on him. But you had to stop yourself from laughing and giving yourself away when you see him impatiently tapping his toes. Because no matter how much some things change, there are some things that will always be the same.

"I don't know about that," you muse, still taking him in because there was a moment there when you weren't sure you'd ever get to see him again. "I can see it from here and I'm still on the fence about it."

You see him look around, confused for a moment, head swiveling trying to spot you. You don't keep him waiting long, stepping out from your hiding spot and into view.

You mouth hi and give him a little wave.

"Hey, there you are." There's no missing the wide grin on his face. "You going to stand all the way over there or are you going to come see the mustache up close and personal?"

You laugh and shake your head making your way to him. "I guess I might as well considering I did fly all the way across the country to see it."

"And me, I hope."

"And you," you confirm.

You end the call, tucking your phone into your bag as you close the gap between him and you.

Those whiskey brown eyes are one you've known your whole life. His curls looked like they've seen some sun, as did the rest of him. And the soft smile he had directed at you looked like contentment.

What stops you in your tracks are the fresh cuts that mark his face, new scars to be mixed in with the ones you already knew so well. They're shade of bright pink that's impossible to miss.

"Oh my god, Bradley."

He doesn't say a word as you gently take his face in your hands, tilting his head this way and that, inspecting him for yourself. He just gazes at you, reading every emotion as they run across your face, as you try to hunt for any clues to an answer about what happened that you know you'll never get.

"I'm fine, I promise," he murmurs.

"It doesn't look fine," you press.

He grasps you wrists with his warm hands and coaxes yours down between the two of you.

Too close. Whatever it was was too damn close. The evidence is right there on his neck and behind his ear, and you hate it.

Bradley squeezes your hands reassuringly. "I'll have you know passed the concussion protocol with flying colors." He tries to play it off as a joke, but the dark circles under his eyes and the weariness you see around the corners of his eyes tells a different story.

"Does it still hurt?" you ask, trying not to let your voice wobble.

"Well, I do feel a little better now that you’re here.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. "You're so-"

Ridiculous. Frustrating. Important to me.

You don't get to finish you sentence because Bradley is tugging you into his broad chest. The arms that wrap around you are fuller now, but his hug is as just a familiar as it's always been.

Yours thread themselves around his waist instinctively, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

He holds you close, holds you tight. Bradley's always been the type to really hold on tight because he knows what it's like to have to let things go.

People come and go. There's the sound of departure and arrival announcements on the speakers overhead. Some people are saying their goodbyes, and some- like the two of you- are saying hello.

All of it happens around you and Bradley. As you hold him and he holds you. Both of you all too aware that this moment hadn't been a given.

"Thank you for not standing me up," you whisper, throat thick.

"I wouldn’t dream of it, kid," he says, taking your chin between his thumb and index finger, and gives it a little wiggle.

You blow out a breath, not wanting a raincloud of what-ifs to damper your golden afternoon.

"Hi," you say again.

"I'm happy to see you," he replies, earnestly. You just nod your head because the feeling is so, so mutual. "You just gained three hours, you up for a little adventuring?"

"I’m all yours, Bradshaw."

It didn't matter to you what you did for the four days you were in town, just that you got to spend it with him.

"Good." He drapes a heavy arm over shoulder and reaches for your suitcase. "Because I'm pretty sure I owe you a milkshake."

You let him steer you towards the exit, to where you assume the short term parking garage is located, and ask, "Can I drive the Bronco?"

Bradley pauses. "We'll see."

You grin because it's not a no.

The California sun hits you in full force as you step out the automatic doors. You reach up and tug out the sunglasses that had been haphazardly tucked into the pocket of his silly Hawaiian shirt- that you were definitely going to tease him about later- and slip them on your face.

Bradley smiles over at you.

"I think California is going to suit you, kid."

And for the first time, here with him, you think it might too.

[feralforfrank]

hey ☺️

the only thing on my mind is rooster shaving his mustache for whatever reason and gf reader is upset ! silly little blurb i luv ur writing muah

bradley bradshaw x fem!reader

ANON!!! ILY THANK YOU FOR READING MY STUFF <3333333 much love to you, MWAH! hope you enjoy this one!

You're shocked, heartbroken, in shambles, you name it. The grocery bag almost slips from your fingers when you hear the horrid sound of the electric razor from the bathroom. You place the bags on the counter before practically running inside.

You want to douse your eyes with gasoline when you see the damage. Bradley had been mentioning here and there that he wanted to shave his moustache just to see how he'd look without it. You'd forbade such talk inside the house, and he chuckled before dropping the subject.

But what seemed to be your biggest fear was becoming your new reality. With your keys clutched in one hand, the other holding on for dear life at the door frame, you watch your dear boyfriend shave the last of his moustache over the sink.

He hasn't noticed you yet. Music is playing from his phone, but you can't bring yourself to recognise the tune. This situation is way too tragic. When the buzzing sound stops emanating from the vile machine, Bradley finally turns around, having heard your panting.

"Babe, this isn't what it looks like." He speaks with hesitation and guilt.

"What did you do?" Your every word is punctuated.

Bradley opens his mouth but closes it, and you shake your head expectantly. "Well?"

"I-I was trimming it, and Din here," he looks at your cat, laying on the floor as if he's the criminal here, "came between my legs and scared me, and I moved my hand, and I shaved more than I should. It didn't look good anymore."

You scoff, pushing yourself off the doorway and turning to walk to your bedroom. Not once did you believe Bradley.

"Babe? Baby, c'mon!"

"I am not talking to you, hairless cat."

You hear him chuckle. "Hey, it's not that bad!" Bradley follows you into the bedroom.

"Never said it was." You shrug, taking your shirt off.

He's behind you in seconds, kissing your neck, his hands encircling your waist and pulling you closer. "You called me a hairless cat."

"Don't have a problem with cats. I own one." You pause, looking up. "Now, I got another one! Hm! Look at that!"

"Hey!" Bradley blows a breath where your jawline meets your ear, causing you to shiver.

You spend a few seconds like this, his hands around you, your back pressed against his smooth shirtless chest, face buried in your neck. Feels weird without the stache.

"So, you don't like it?" You realise you've spoken aloud when he questions you.

You shake your head. "I think you look attractive either way." You turn to Bradley, never escaping his grasp. 

"I'm only joking. You look like a baby. It's adorable!"

Bradley looks offended. "Well, in that case, I am letting it grow and never shaving it ever again."

You grab the back of his head, kissing where he used to have perfectly trimmed hair. The spot is soft and smooth as a baby's butt.

You can't help but smile. 

[cherrycola27]

Elementary

Summary: You are the younger sister of Natasha Trace. You've just moved to San Diego to teach 4th Grade. You never expected to fall for an older man in a Hawaiian shirt who happens to be her best friend.

Warnings: Language, Drinking. Smut, Age Gap, Daddy Kink. Minors DNI 18+

Next Part

...........................................

You'd noticed him the moment you and your friends had walked into the club. He was with a group of guys leaning up near the bar. He looked entirely out of place with his Hawiian shirt and aviators. He had a thick mustache that accentuated his almost familiar face.

He was still there when you walked up later to get a drink.

"Can I get a Titos and cran with Sprite?" You asked the bar tender. "Titos?" He commented. "Classy." He smirked before taking another sip of his beer.

You laughed before turning to him. "I'm trying not to hate myself in the morning. I spent enough time in college drinking bottom shelf shit out of a trash can in a frat house. I've done my share of hangovers. Thank you very much." You tell him.

He turns his body to face you fully. You catch the quick slip of his eyes as he scans your body.

"College? When was that? Last year?" You can't tell if he's joking or not.

"I graduated six years ago. I'm twenty-eight, not a child." You tell him. "What about you. When did you graduate Old Man? 1950?" You laugh.

"Old Man? Really? What makes you say that?" He asks you. "The 'stache and the Hawaiian shirt." You say nonchalantly.

He laughs. "Well, it's been about thirteen years since I graduated college. Didn't realize thirty-five was old." He shakes his head before finishing his drink at the same time the bartender comes back with yours. You go to hand him your card, but your new friend stops you.

"This one's on the Old Man." He winks at you.

"Thank you. You smile at him. "I'm Bradley, by the way, but everyone calls me Rooster." He puts his hand out for you to shake. You tell him your name, and then it clicks. He's one of your sisters coworkers.

She would kill you if she knew you were flirting with him, but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

"What do you do for work, Rooster?" You asked him. You knew the answer. "I'm a Naval aviator, I fly jets and stuff." He says it so casually. "Oh, that's cool. I've got a few family members in the Navy." You tell him. That's not a lie. Your sister and your soon to be brother in law were both in the Navy. You didn't want to tell him who they were, though.

"Cool. What about you? What do you do for work?" He asks you.

"I teach. Actually, I just got hired to teach fourth grade at the elementary school near the Navy base here in San Diego." You tell him.

"No shit? I know if my teachers had been as pretty as you are, I might have paid better attention. But on a side note, I've got a couple of friends I work with whose kids are going to be in fourth grade there." He tells you.

Little does he know that those kids are your niece and nephew.

"Well, maybe I'll get to see you around then." You finish off your drink and set it on the bar, just as one of your favorite songs comes on. 'Unholy,' you thought—how fitting.

You grab him by the hand. Come dance with me, Bradley.

He happily follows you to the dance floor and pulls you flush against him as your body moves against him.

His hands have a tight grip on your hips. You turn to face him and start singing along with the music. You don't miss how his fingers did into your flesh a little harder each time the word 'Daddy' leaves your mouth.

As the song finishes, you decide to push your luck. You lean up on your tip toes and whisper in his ear. "How about be get out of here, Daddy?"

You smirk as he grabs your hand to lead you to the exit.

"Did you drive?" He asks the moment you're out of the club.

"Ubered." You tell him. "I drove, fuck, follow me." He says.

Moments later, the two of you are standing by a classic blue Bronco. You don't even have time to admire it before he pushes you up against it and kisses you roughly.

It takes all of the willpower he has not to fuck you in the parking lot.

It takes him ten minutes to get back to his bungalow. He's undressing you the minute you get through the door.

Your clothes are strung haphazardly throughout his home. It's a miracle the two of you make it to the bed. But you do. Soon, he's got you laid out before him, and his face is buried between your legs.

He eats your pussy like it's his day job, all the while his hips rut into the mattress. He makes you cum twice on his tongue and fingers.

"Condom?" He asks as he prepares to fuck you.

"Clean. On the pill." You tell him.

"I'm clean too, fuck, you want me to hit it raw?" He growls.

"Yes, please, Daddy." You tell him with hooded eyes.

As he slides into you, you know exactly why they call him Rooster. He's huge in length and girth. He's splitting you open in the most delicious way.

He fucks into you hard, fast, and deep. He takes one of his large hands and presses it on your stomach. You can feel him in there.

"Fuck, you feel how deep I am?" He ask you. You nod your head. "You like feeling Daddy so deep in this tight, perfect little pussy?" He groans.

You whine out a response as he toys with your clit.

"You gonna cum again for me baby?" He asks you. "Yes, Daddy, close!" You moan out.

"Fuck, I can tell. Can feel you clenching so hard on me. That's it darlin, be a good girl and take Daddy's cock." He tells you. Soon, you're falling over the edge, screaming for him.

"Good girl, such a good girl." He praises you.

"Baby, I'm close, where do you want me to—" He asks but you cut him off before he can finish

"Cum in me! Fill me up, Daddy!" You moan out. You don't have to tell him twice. Rooster cums and fills you up with his spend.

He collapses on the bed next to you. After a few minutes, he gets a cloth to help you clean up. You try to get up to find your clothes, but he pulls you closer to him.

"Stay, I'll make pancakes in the morning." He tells you.

You know you shouldn't, but you stay anyway.

The next morning, he does make you pancakes. The two of you get to know each other all morning, and he asks to take you out on a proper date that night.

"I can't tonight. I have to babysit my niece and nephew, but I'm free tomorrow." You tell him.

He agrees. A few hours and several orgasms later, he's dropping you off at your apartment. You have just enough time to make it look like you haven't spent the day getting fuckeswithin an inch of your life before your sister shows up with her fiancée and kids.

The doorbell rings, and Catia and Cristiano run in to greet you. "Aunty Thena!" The cry as they both hug you. You laugh at the nickname. Your sister and her fiancée and almost all of their friends were aviators with callsigns. You didn't have one but were given the honorary callsign "Thena" after the goddess Athena by your future brother in law. He claimed it was because you were both wise and scary. Even though you were barely nineteen when her sneaky link turned into her baby daddy, you were still a force to be reckoned with and wise beyond your years.

But Coyote stepped up when Nat found out she was pregnant. Their casual hook ups turned into something serious. Your parents had wanted them to get married before the twins were born, but they didn't want to get married just because Natasha was pregnant.

You supported her through her pregnancy and their relationship. You had even helped him pick out the ring.

The both of you still laugh when he tells she story about why he and the kids call you Thena.

"Cat, Cris, please don't kill your aunt before she has a chance to watch you!" Coyote scolds them as he walks into your home.

"Javy, they are just excited to see her. It's been months since she last visited. Natasha tells him as she comes in.

"Hey, little sis!" She smiles as she comes to hug you. "I'm so glad you moved out here!"

"You just like that you have a free baby sitter now." You joke with her.

Coyote laughs and shrugs his shoulders.

"Now listen up terror twins." He addresses his children. You laugh at the nickname for them. It's funny because it's true. You and the twins have gotten into a few messes together. Catia, the oldest, was definitely the mastermind, while Cristiano was, more often than not, the unwilling accomplice.

"Your mom and I will be back in a few hours to pick you up. We have to finish a few wedding things. Be good for your Aunt Thena and listen to her. It will be good practice for when you start back to school and she is your teacher." Javy tells the kids.

Both of them promised to be on their best behavior. You wave goodbye to Nat and Javy. As soon as they are gone, you and the kids are ordering pizza and finding a movie to watch.

You're careful to make sure they don't see your phone and who you are texting.

.............................

You hadn't meant for it to go this far. After your first date with Rooster, you swore you were going to tell him who you were, but you liked the idea of keeping your relationship to yourself. You didn't want to hear what Nat had to say, but honestly, it wasn't any of her business. You were an adult.

The sex with Rooster was amazing, but he was a great boyfriend, too. These had been the best six weeks of your life.

You were currently lying in bed with him after a bit of afternoon delight.

"You really are the best partner that I've had Bradley. Most guys my age last like five minutes and don't even care if I cum. But not you. To be an old man, you sure can keep up." You tease him as you prop yourself up on his chest.

"I'm a Top Gun graduate, babe. The top 1% of Naval aviators in the entire fucking nation. Longevity and stamina are hard wired into me. Don't you know the reason why everyone wants a classic car now?" He asks you. You shake your head.

"Because they can keep their motor running for much longer." He smirks before rolling you onto your back for another round.

You were still in a post sex haze when you're phone went off.

"Shit!" You shouted and jumped up. "What?" Rooster asked you.

"I'm late! I'm supposed to meet my sister for some wedding stuff. I've got to go! I'll text you later!" You shout over your shoulder as you head out the door.

...........................

You and Natasha spent the evening working on some last-minute wedding plans. Once you were done, she suggested that you, her, and Coyote go out for drinks. His parents were keeping the twins for the weekend, so they wanted to take the chance to hang out without worrying about Cat and Cris.

You thought everything would be fine. You were wrong.

Everything was fine until you pulled into the Hard Deck and noticed a familiar blue Bronco. Shit. This wasn't good.

You tried your best to stay cool. You were attempting to fire off a text to Rooster, but Nat was pulling you towards the door.

She looped her arm in yours as she walked over to the group of pilots. You spotted Rooster and his Hawiian print shirt with them. His back was to you.

"Guys! This is my sister that I told you about!" Natasha announced proudly as she introduced you to the group. Everyone smiled and greeted you.

"Bradshaw! Say hi to my little sister!" Nat said, punching him in the shoulder. You didn't miss the color draining from his face when his eyes met yours.

You smirked at him as you introduced yourself.

..............................

The evening was awkward, to say the least. You didn't miss the glances Rooster kept sending you. You did your best to avoid him, but ultimately, both of you were sent on a drink run.

You walked up to the bar to order them, with him hot on your heels.

As soon as you'd ordered them, he grabbed your arm and spun you around.

"You're Nat's sister! How could you not tell me you were her sister?" Rooster whisper shouted at you, as the two of you waited for the drinks.

"It never came up and you never asked." You replied nonchalantly.

"She's going to kill me." He groaned.

"Don't worry, Daddy, I'll make sure she doesn't." You smirked at him.

"You can't call me that!" Rooster shushed you as he looked around to make sure no one was watching the two of you.

"Why not? You weren't complaining about it earlier today when I was face down and ass up and you were pulling my hair while fucking me into you mattress." You teased him. "In fact, I'm pretty sure you said 'oh baby, your tight pussy feels so good wrapped around Daddy's cock. Come on darlin cum for Daddy. Make a mess all over him.'"

Rooster turned as red as a beet. "Why didn't you tell me? We've been dating for six weeks!" Rooster stated.

"I was afraid you wouldn't like me anymore. I liked keeping you to myself. Once people know, they give their opinions, and they put their nose where it doesn't belong. Also, do you think Nat is going to be cool with this?" You tell him.

"She's going to kill me. She's going to cut my fuel lines, or she's going to use real guns during training. I'm so dead." Rooster shook his head.

Just then, Penny appeared with the tray of drinks for everyone. Rooster picked it up and turned towards you and sighed.

"Don't worry, baby, I promise we will figure this out. Just smile and nod until it's time to go home." You tell him. "Okay." He sighs.

"Now, let's go get these drinks to them before someone comes looking for us. Don't freak out, I promise I'll take extra good care of you tonight, Daddy, when I come over." You smirk at him.

Rooster shakes his head and follows you back to the group.

You were both too caught up in your conversation to notice a certain Weapons Systems Officer who had come to get more peanuts, and who had unfortunately overheard the end of your conversation.

"Well, well, well." Bob sighed. "This isn't going to be good."

Hope you guys enjoyed this first chapter!

Tag List: @dreamingathighaltitude @shanimallina87 @luckyladycreator2 @mak-32 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @rosiahills22 @thedroneranger @roosterforme @withahappyrefrain @sebsxphia @afterglowsb-tch13 @emorychase @hecate-steps-on-me @roosterscock

[bradshawsbaby]

Flawless.