#top gun maverick fanfiction

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 34 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Maverick makes time to have a conversation with Bradley, but you've already lost faith in him. Your words hurt him more than anything else could. 

Warnings: Angst, adult language, body image, DILF Roo, pregnancy, jealousy

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

When the mattress dipped and you felt the bedding shift around your legs, you opened your eyes to find Bradley climbing out of bed. The room was still dark, but his face was illuminated by his phone screen. The baby was thumping against your tender insides, making you wince, and your husband was playing around on his phone in the middle of the night. Or texting someone.

"What are you doing?" you croaked. Bradley's gaze snapped toward your face, and he leaned down to pull the covers to your shoulder.

"Uh, I need to head to base a little early," he whispered, tracing your cheek with his thumb. "To meet with Mav."

"What time is it?" you asked, rolling toward him to see his phone.

"Almost six," he replied, kissing your forehead as he tipped his screen away. "I love you. Try to get some more sleep."

You swallowed hard, rolling away from him as he started pulling his uniform from the closet. The rustle of fabric set your nerves on edge, and you squeezed your eyes shut as he got dressed. Maybe he thought you fell asleep again, because he didn't say another word before he left the room. But you were pretty sure you heard him stop in Rose's nursery before leaving the house.

Now you were wide awake and alone. Your phone told you it was 5:28 which was completely absurd. Neither you nor Bradley ever got to base before 8:00 unless you were working your ass off on a project.

He used Maverick as his excuse which seemed ridiculous. Bradley wasn't in the middle of training for a special mission which would require extra hours before daylight. And he had to know Maverick would only cover for him for so long.

You sat up and laughed miserably. Your husband was lying to you. And you thought you knew what he was lying about. Tears filled your eyes as your hand rested on your belly where your younger daughter was moving around. Why was Bradley doing this to the three of you? 

It wasn't like you couldn't tell how bad you looked at the moment. You knew it. You were bloated and chunky and broken out, but it was at least half his fault you were pregnant again in the first place. And you would make it a priority to get in shape after she was born. You would.

Your fingers were curled around the sheets, trying to keep yourself on your side of the bed, but you crawled toward Bradley's nightstand anyway. The lamp was too bright, taking your eyes a beat to adjust. You yanked the drawer open which offered almost no insight to anything except his Nugget Notebook with the pink and blue striped cover. But then you saw something underneath it.

You grabbed the second notebook, this one bright pink, and pulled it from the drawer. Only the first few pages were covered in his writing, but you soaked the words up greedily.

To my second daughter, you are the third love of my life. I realize that sounds a little unfair, like you're coming in third place, but I promise that's not that case. It's only because I met your mom and your sister first. You're not even here yet, but I already know I love you just as much as I love them. And I can't wait to meet you, too.

Before I get carried away, let me introduce myself. I'm your dad. It's my job to love you and take care of you. I'm not perfect, but I love you so much, I'll always try my best to be here for anything you need. To be honest, I never expected to have a family at all. And to be extra honest, you were a bit of a surprise. But a very good surprise. My favorite kind of surprise. I can't wait to teach you everything I know, which isn't much, but I do know how to love my three girls. 

"How?" you gasped, dropping the notebook back into the drawer. You sobbed into Bradley's pillow, unable to make sense of this. How was the man who wrote notebook passages to his children the same man who was sneaking around behind your back. With Indigo. It simply did not make sense, but both versions of him seemed to exist at the same time. And somehow you were the one who was more at odds with yourself than he was with himself.

You could feel the love he had for his daughters. It was so obvious. He was so good with Rose, and he seemed excited about having two kids.

You weren't sure if you'd be able to kick him out. You didn't know if you could leave him. If push came to shove, you didn't know if you could be that strong. You wished he wasn't making you consider it at all. 

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

"Oh, God."

Bradley was awake as soon as Maverick replied to his text at five in the morning. He'd barely been able to sleep anyway, but when Maverick told Bradley he was heading to Lemoore in a few hours for a meeting, he begged his godfather to meet with him first.

Now Bradley was sitting in his office in a silent building waiting for any help he could get. As far as he had worked out, Indigo had been devouring his extra attention for weeks for a less savory reason than he originally thought. All the times she invited him out for a drink left him shaking his head while he stared at the wedding photo perched in his desk. 

He never tried to hide the fact that he was married. He fucking flaunted it. You were perfect; why wouldn't he? If someone else thought they had a gorgeous wife? Ha, Bradley could lay it down in spades. Someone else claimed their wife was smart? Well, his was a goddamn genius. Someone wanted to brag about their kids? All he had to do was pull up a photo of Rose, and he had everyone around him swooning.

He found it easier to make small talk about his family than anything else these days, and he was sure Indigo knew he was married before he even left Texas to fly back to San Diego. It still seemed unlikely she wanted to sleep with him, but he wasn't going to deny that Nat was usually right about these things.

"Oh, God," Bradley groaned for probably the tenth time since he woke up. He wanted to rewind and go back to Texas and never select Indigo in the first place. 

But would that have been fair? To leave her behind when she was the best? When she was clearly one of the pilots who should be moving forward with new programs? It wasn't like she ever touched him. Other than persistently inviting him for drinks and showing up for all of his office hours, she never made an advance. But now he was uncomfortable. There was something about the way she always looked at him that.....yeah, Nat was right.

But if Bradley couldn't handle his first assignment in his new position, how was he supposed to prove he could do this going forward?

There was a knock on his already open door, and Maverick stood there looking perplexed. "Bradley? What did you need that couldn't wait until later this week?"

Bradley groaned again as he stood. "Can you shut the door?"

"Sure."

Maverick let it slip from his fingers, and Bradley waited until the echo of the door closing gave way to silence. He could feel his godfather's gaze on his face as his eyes closed. He swallowed hard, not wanting to waste the other man's time, but now that he was here, he felt so stupid. 

"I need your help," Bradley rasped, voice hoarse as his eyes opened. "It's work related."

"Okay," Maverick replied, voice between a statement and a question. "What can I do?"

Bradley's fingers curled around the edge of his desk as he looked down at his phone sitting there. "Uh...Mav, this is embarrassing."

When Maverick took a step closer, he reached across the desk to cuff Bradley on the shoulder. "Just hit me with it."

Bradley took a long breath and let it out slowly. "There's another officer who... well, it's been brought to my attention that she..." He let go of his desk and rubbed his fingertips against his eyes. "There's a chance my wife thinks something's going on between me and another officer on base. One who reports to me."

Maverick's expression gave nothing away, but he shifted his weight from one foot to the other before taking a step away from Bradley. "To be clear, Bradley, are you asking me to help you hide an indiscretion from your wife?"

Bradley's head tilted slightly. "Huh?" he grunted, thoughts already swirling around his mind so rapidly, it took him a few seconds to catch up. "What the fuck, Mav? No!" he gasped. "An indiscretion?" He could barely even say the word as he shook his head. "No. God, no! Nothing happened! Nothing is ever going to happen!"

He realized he was shouting when Maverick's hands flew into the air in surrender. "Okay. Alright. I hear you loud and clear. I just needed to be sure I understand what we're dealing with here. Why don't you have a seat and explain everything to me?"

Bradley was raking his fingers through his hair as he dropped down into his chair. "It's Lieutenant Jeffries. Indigo." Her intense blue eyes filled his mind as he shook his head. "Phoenix and Hangman pointed out that she..." He paused and glanced at the ceiling. "This is so embarrassing, Mav, but they said it seems like she wants to sleep with me."

"Hmm."

When Maverick hummed and went silent, Bradley said, "I know how ridiculous it sounds."

"It doesn't," his godfather replied immediately. "This sort of thing happens sometimes. You said nothing happened? You should keep your distance moving forward, and if she contacts you outside of work or does anything inappropriate, we can write it up."

Bradley groaned miserably, unlocked his phone, and pushed it across the desk with his messages open. "She did text me outside of work."

While Maverick reached for the phone, he said, "Did you give her your number?"

"No. Why would I do that?" he replied. "But honestly, it's not hard to get access to that kind of information. I didn't think much of it the first time."

Maverick shrugged. "Well, what did she text-" His eyes grew wide when he looked down at the phone, his cheeks turning pink as he was surely looking at the photo that had been in Bradley's messages for less than twelve hours.

"Yeah," Bradley croaked. "She sent that last night."

"But she texted you before that. When you never explicitly gave her your number." Maverick looked up at him, shaking his head. "Bradley, what were you thinking? She seems to have some sort of agenda. You should have come to me immediately after the first message."

Bradley stood, stomach lurching. His marriage, career, and reputation were somehow all on the line, and he hadn't even done anything. He couldn't help but think of his parents and the fact that his dad probably never put his mom through this kind of shit when she was seven months postpartum.

"An agenda?" Bradley whispered. "Shit, Mav. This is the kind of thing that happens on carriers. Not on base. I thought this was something men did way more than women when they wanted to cheat."

Maverick handed his phone back across the desk with the photo of Indigo open. Bradley swiped out of the text thread immediately, sick to his stomach. 

"You work in a high stakes field where women routinely outperform men. They are capable of anything you are."

"I know that!" Bradley snapped. "But I'm married! I'm not looking for that shit. I never let on that I was."

"Oh, you sweet summer child," Maverick sighed, checking his watch. "Literally," he added as he dug his own phone from his pocket. "If Lieutenant Jeffries is sending you photos and playing coy, she doesn't care about your wife."

Bradley winced. "Fuck."

"Yeah," Maverick grunted, taking a few steps toward the door. "And your wife is pregnant and vulnerable, and now I'm going to have to tell Admiral Simpson that I'll be late getting to Lemoore. Follow me. And bring your phone."

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

Bradley was late getting home. This was happening almost every night now, and you were hanging on by a thread as Rose screamed in your arms. She was fed, but she always seemed to prefer the way Bradley burped her over your technique.

"He's not here," you said through gritted teeth. "I don't know where he is or when he'll be back. I just need you to burp so you can go to sleep."

Your texts had gone unanswered. You weren't sure if Bradley had been in the cafeteria at lunchtime, because you hid in your office. Dinnertime had come and gone, and his cold plate of food was currently sitting on the kitchen counter.

"I don't know where he is," you repeated to your daughter while her younger sister did somersaults against your bladder. Rose's sobs finally started to taper off as you rubbed your hand firmly against her back. She finally burped, and that seemed to do the trick. Her fists curled up next to her face as she yawned. You barely had enough time to change her into a clean diaper and pajamas before her eyes were closed.

You were mentally, physically, and emotionally drained. You stood in her nursery, watching her sleep while you decided you needed to say something to your husband tonight. There was no way you could keep punishing yourself for not being enough. If he wanted someone else, you deserved to have him say it to your face.

But when you heard him open the front door thirty minutes later, your heart lurched into your stomach at the sight of him. You'd known how handsome he was since the day you met him, and he only seemed to get better looking with age. Each year added more silver to his hair and laugh lines to his face, but he was undeniably sexy.

Today, however, he looked exhausted, and your brain went wild with awful ideas. What had he gotten up to? Why was he so late? The top buttons of his uniform were undone, and his hair was mussed. He was staring down at his phone in his hand while you stood silently at the end of the hallway, terrified of what he was looking at.

Suddenly everything you'd been holding inside for weeks was bubbling up to the surface, and you were done holding it back. You cleared your throat, and his gaze snapped up to your face, phone hanging in his hand by his side.

"Hey, Sweetheart. Is Rosie already asleep?"

You nodded, taking each step slowly until you were standing right in front of him. When he reached for you, his fingers skimmed your shoulder before you pushed his hand away. Those beautiful, brown eyes you loved so much went wide, but he didn't look surprised. Not at all.

"Why are you so late?" you snapped. "And don't feed me some bullshit about office hours, because I know your schedule. Or, at least, I know what they are supposed to be."

Bradley licked his lips, gesturing between the two of you with his phone. "I had to take care of something important with Maverick."

You wanted to laugh in his face. "You're really going to use the same excuse as this morning? Another meeting with Maverick? What, one was at the crack of dawn and the other was after dinnertime? I've been texting you for hours, Bradley."

You watched his Adam's apple bob. "I didn't have my phone with me for part of the day."

"You have it now!" you laughed sardonically, pointing at his hand just in time to see his phone light up. 

It was her. You saw her name there. Indigo. She was texting your husband well after work hours, and you could already feel the tears stinging your eyes.

You grabbed his phone before he seemed to realize what was happening. Your fingers shook as you entered his passcode to find it was still your birthday. He wasn't even trying to hide this from you. He wasn't trying to take his phone back. As you braced yourself for what you were about to see, you whispered, "What the fuck is going on with her?"

His brown eyes were so sincere, and once again, you couldn't understand how this was the same man who wrote journals for his unborn children. "Nothing," he replied, voice taking on a tone of defeated exhaustion. "There's nothing going on."

Your eyes dipped down to his phone to find not one, but two flirtatious selfies. One new one, and one that was sent last night while he was working out in the garage. Indigo's eyes stared back at you from the screen, mocking you, making a fool of your family.

You were crying. You didn't want Bradley to see you cry right now, but you couldn't stop. "This doesn't look like nothing. And you didn't tell her to stop."

Now he looked panicked, eyes wide as he saw the photo on his phone in your hand. "Okay, I know this looks bad, but I reported it, I swear! I've never been alone with her behind closed doors. You can call Mav!"

Violent sobs shook your body, and when Bradley slowly let his hand settle on your arm, you shook him free. "You expect me to believe nothing is going on? When you get home late every day? When she told me that it's no wonder you prefer her since I let myself go?" you gasped, swiping at your tears.

"What?" Bradley barked as you blindly handed his offending phone back to him. "She said that to you?"

You nodded miserably, taking a step away from him. "I don't want to know if you said that to her, or if she formed her own opinion after spending time with you. And I don't want to know if you're fucking her or just considering it. But I want you out of the house."

Bradley looked like you just slapped him. His mouth was hanging open, brow creased while you sobbed. "You want me out?" he whispered, hand going up to rake his fingers through his hair.

"Yes," you squeaked, trying to stay strong not just for yourself, but for your daughters as well. Every word hurt as you forced them out of your mouth, but you had to say them. "Go. Until I can talk to my parents about canceling the sale of their house. I'll transfer to Annapolis. Take the girls with me."

Bradley closed the distance to you, tears already pooling in his eyes as he dropped to his knees. His lips found your belly, and you sobbed harder as he wrapped his hands around your hips. "No. You can't," he said so softly, you could barely hear him. When he looked up at your face, you almost believed he would never be capable of hurting you. "Baby Girl, you can't leave me. I need you. I need my girls."

When you stepped out of his grasp, his arms fell limply to his sides. You'd never seen him look so miserable before, and you had to stand firm instead of reaching for his hands.

"Find somewhere else to sleep."

The implications of your own words stung your heart, and you had to watch him slowly get to his feet. He kissed your forehead, and your eyes blurred with fresh tears when he went down the hallway to Rose's room. Less than a minute passed, but each second felt like a day. You had plenty of time to tell him the truth. That you didn't want him to leave. That you couldn't blame him for wanting someone else, and you still needed him as much as he said he needed you.

When he reappeared, you pressed your lips together even as he kissed your damp cheek. "I love you," he rasped. "I'm never going to stop loving you. I'll figure out some way to make you believe me."

You watched him retreat to the front door with his keys, shoulders sagging as he gave you one last lingering look before slipping out into the darkness.

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

Ouch. Ouch. Okay. I want BG to believe Roo beyond any doubt, and I think I know how to make that happen. Please stay tuned. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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You guyyysss! Full series available now 💛

Love To Watch You Leave: Part 1

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Warnings: Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Swearing, Fluff, Angst, Bullying, Eventual Smut, Grieving, Pining, Alcohol

—————————

18+ Only

—————————




Since you can remember, Bradley Bradshaw has been the bane of your existence.




Your earliest recollection of him is when you moved to town, just next door to him. He was a good 5 years older than you, but you immediately had a huge crush on him.




This was quickly squashed when he began to tease you, and then teasing turned to bullying, and you swore you’d spend the rest of your life hating him.




You remember seeing him playing in his garden when you were 7, hanging some toy planes in a tree and shooting them out with his slingshot.




You meandered over in your little yellow dress, hair curled and all of your best glittery bracelets on, you looked adorable and we’re confident he would think you were the bees knees.




You stood watching him destroy his toy planes, patiently waiting for him to notice you.




Eventually you spoke up, “That looks like fun, can I play?”




Bradley turned around to eye you up, the 12 year old glaring at you like he’d never seen a girl before. He then turned back around, ignoring you, and continued to shoot at his planes.




You walked closer and looked up at him.




“I’m Y/N! What’s your name?”




Bradley scowled down at you, “This game isn’t for girls, and my name is none of your business, kid, now scram.”




Your smile fell from your face, and you crossed your arms with a huff, “That’s rude. I’m gonna tell my mom if you don’t let me play with you.”




Bradley lifted his slingshot and aimed it right at you, you screamed and ducked before running back to your house.




“Mommy! Mommy!”




Bradley shot a pebble at you, but luckily his aim was still shocking and he missed.




From that day onwards, you tried to steer clear of the mean boy next door, but that was becoming increasingly difficult as your mom became friends with his mom. They spent a lot of time chatting on the steps in front of each others houses, and tried very hard to coax you and Bradley to play together.




“I don’t want to go over, can’t I just stay here?” You argued one day, your mom brushing your soft locks as she got you ready for a play date next door.




“No my love, I can’t leave you home alone. Carole has kindly made us lunch so it would be rude not to go, wouldn’t it?” She said softly. Your mom was so gentle but it was hard to argue with her reasoning.




You nodded sulkily, and a few minutes later you were being carted off to the Bradshaws, your hand in your moms and eyes red from your crocodile tears.




Carole welcomed you inside, but Bradley was nowhere to be seen, much to your relief.




You liked Carole, she was warm and friendly, much like your own mom, and you were more than happy to sit with the adults and converse about your new barbie and how school was going, but much to your dismay, Carole took your hand and guided you to her sons bedroom.




“Here you go sweetheart, Bradley’s inside, I’m sure he’ll let you play with any of his toys.” She said sweetly, pushing the door open and nudging you inside.




The bedroom was blue and covered with model airplanes and cars, very much a boys bedroom, and Bradley sat in the centre of his bed, tearing apart an old plastic truck he’d clearly damaged during one of his rather destructive play times.




You stood awkwardly at the door as Carole walked away.




Bradley glanced up at you before looking back down at his toy, tearing bits of plastic off. “If you touch any of my stuff I’ll get you with my slingshot. I’ve been practicing.”




You frowned and your arms crossed over your polka dot dress. “My mom says if a boy is mean to you, it means he likes you.” You stated confidently.




Bradley pulled a face and stuck his tongue out in disgust, “Gross, girls have cooties, and you look like you have the most cooties out of everyone. And your pigtails are stupid.”




You went red with rage, how dare he insult your hair. Angrily you balled your hands into fists and stormed over to Bradley, landing a punch against his arm. He barely winced, but he turned and shoved you so hard that you landed with an ‘ooph’ on the ground.




You burst into tears, wailing for your mom who quickly came to your aid.




“Baby what happened?” She cooed, scooping you up in her arms as Carole glared down at Bradley.




“He- he PUSHED me!” You wailed, and Bradley scowled at you.




“She punched me first!” He argued.




Unfortunately for your mom and Carole, this little spat resulted in you having to go home early, and they resorted to chatting in the garden going forward, but you were more than happy not to have to see Bradley much going forward.




You would occasionally see him playing in the front garden, but you’d just ignore him and play by yourself. Eventually you made friends and Bradley was actually nice to them, but still treated you as if you had a highly contagious disease.




Your little heart hated him to the best of its ability, and you avoided him like the plague, yet he would still throw water balloons at you when you weren’t looking, or tell his friends that you were weird. Sometimes he would call you names as he drove past on his bike, but all of that was nothing compared to when you started high school.




Bradley was in his final year as you started your first, and still as immature as the day you met him, he made your life a living hell.




You remembered your first day for all of the wrong reasons.




You met up with your friends at the front gate, all walking in for your first day of high school together, excited about what was to come and nervous at the same time. You had bought cute matching stationary and a new outfit for the first day of school, and your mom had dropped you off, as proud as a mother could be.




But all of that excitement was quickly dampened as soon as you saw Bradley in the corridor, the smile on your face dropping like melted ice cream.




He had spotted you first, staring at you menacingly from his circle of friends down the further end of the corridor.




“Who’s that, your little girlfriend?” One of his friends teased, a dorky looking guy.




“Her? Not a chance. She’s my weird neighbour. She’s been obsessed with me since we were kids.” He told his friends.




You had stopped listening to your friends chatting now, your ears straining to make out Bradley’s words as your face grew blood red.




“Her dad even had to leave the country just to get away from her, she’s a psycho. Once had to actually shove her off of me just to get her to take a hint.” You watched in horror as he lied to his friends, your heart shattering when he brought up your dad.




Your dad had moved to the UK when he divorced your mom after finding someone else. You didn’t hate him for it, but it hurt that he’d abandoned you so easily, and hearing Bradley twist the situation made you want to throw up.




You ran into the bathroom and began to sob, you contemplated even just calling your mom to pick you up, not sure you could ever show your face again, but your friends managed to calm you down and you agreed to see the day through.




You had hoped his bullying would end there, but most days you couldn’t even get to classes without either Bradley or one of his stupid friends mocking you, calling you names or spreading a rumour. Retaliating only made it worse, and his friends would argue that you were obsessed with him and we’re finding reasons to speak to him, so eventually you stopped defending yourself.




Once you even made the mistake of wearing white jeans to school, and Bradley squeezed ketchup down the back of them as he walked past you in the cafeteria, then loudly exclaiming that you’d gotten your period.




Thankfully, once Bradley had graduated high school, you barely had to deal with him anymore, and the rest of high school passed in a much lighter fashion.




Around summer time in 9th grade however, your world came crashing down suddenly, when Carole passed away. You’d come to adore her, even if her son was your worst nightmare.




You and your mom mourned her but Bradley of course was in the worst state.




Alone in his moms house, your mom would often

go over and cook dinner for him, ensuring he had anything he needed. She had asked Bradley to come and stay, but he had declined politely, saying he was able to look after himself and would rather be in his own home.




You actually felt bad for him, and despite your troubled past with him, you decided to offer your condolences.




Braving it, you walked over to his house and knocked on the door. A few minutes passed without an answer, so you knocked again.




Eventually you decided to let yourself in, so you pushed the door open and carefully stepped inside.




“Bradley?” You called out. The house felt empty and sounded even more so. You ventured further in and checked the lounge, kitchen and hallway. Nothing.




Bradley’s room was empty, so you checked Carole’s last, and to your surprise Bradley was curled up on his moms bed, fast asleep.




You thought about just leaving, which you probably should have, but something inside you urged you forward. You sat at the end of the bed and waited. You weren’t sure what you were waiting for, not sure what you could even say or do to make him feel better. You weren’t even sure why you were trying to make him feel better, but your heart ached for him.




Slowly you reached out and placed a gentle hand against his ankle, shaking him.




Bradley stirred, but didn’t seem to wake, so you shook him again.




“Bradley.” You whispered.




He suddenly shot up in bed, a look of confusion on his face as he stared at you groggily.




“What are you doing here?” He spat.




“I… I just wanted to say I’m sorry, for your loss. I can’t… can’t imagine what you’re going through, and I didn’t like the thought of you being all alone so I-“




He cut you off with a snap, “So you thought you’d just break into my house and sit here like a creep, watching me?”




You didn’t know what to say, you were surprised by his level of anger, even for Bradley.




“No, I knocked, I just-“




“What is wrong with you? Can you just get out? Leave me the fuck alone, Y/N.” He laid back down and turned his back on you, and you fought back tears as you left.




You decided that you were officially done with Bradley Bradshaw then and there, and when he joined the navy, you thought if you never saw him again, it would still be too soon.




————————————




After high school, you went on to study Meteorology in New York, and would often visit home, or your mom would come to New York to visit you, but not once did you see Bradley, despite the fact that he had not yet sold Carole’s house.




You were quite relieved, but over the years the hatred subsided slightly, although it never fully went away. As an adult you grew past it, you were the bigger person and you pitied him in the end.




In college you met someone and moved in together, life was actually looking up, but after 7 years together and with your studies now finished, your relationship quickly fell apart, and you decided to move back home.





Around a week after moving back home, you sat on the front porch reading your new book, checking your phone every half an hour, waiting to hear back about job interviews, when a familiar truck pulled up outside Carole’s house.




You looked up, squinting against the afternoon sun, and your body turned cold.




Bradley.




You hadn’t seen him in many years, thankfully, and you weren’t sure if you wanted him to notice you.




You ducked your head down and pretended to read, holding your breath as you waited for him to go inside. Unfortunately today was not your lucky day and you heard the hard ground crunch under his boots.




“Well I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”




His deep voice rang out across your garden. You groaned and looked up at him. He looked different. He was big now, muscles bulging out of every limb, taller than you’d remembered and a corny porn star moustache on his lip. He still had the same curls, but they were now tinted gold by the sun and his skin had a warmer tone.




He looked good, you couldn’t deny that.




“Bradshaw. Long time no see, sad that my record is broken.” You broke eye contact and looked back down at your book, hoping he’d take a hint and leave.




Bradley chuckled dryly, swinging his car keys around his finger.




“I hear your relationship crashed and burned. Can’t say it surprises me.” He smirked.




“Eat a dick, Bradley.” You said as you got up and went to move inside.




“Nice to see you haven’t changed.” He mumbled.




You suddenly grew hot, rage bubbling up under your skin, and you spun round to face him.




“Me?! Good to see you’re still the same ass face as you were 10 years ago.” You spat back.




“Wow, great come back, Einstein. Is that what you left to study? If so you really should go back to school.”




He was getting under your skin and he knew it, yet he stood there as cool as a cucumber.




“Fuck you!” You yelled, throwing your book at him. It hit his shoulder as he moved to block it and landed on the ground with a thump.




“Jeez, calm down, you’re so feisty now.” He bent to pick up your book and began reading an except.




“And she longed to run her hands through his soft golden locks-“




You ran down the steps and tried to grab the book, “Give that back.” But he held it out of reach.




“and dreamt of his lips on hers, but it never would be, not when he was betrothed to another.” He chuckled as he read, finding it amusing how you struggled to reach. “Wow, you really do need this book, considering it’s all the action you’re gonna get.”




You huffed as he shoved the book into your chest. “I thought you would have grown up by now, but I really shouldn’t be surprised to see you’re still the same immature child you always were.” You turned to walk into the house just as your mom came to see what all the commotion was.




She beamed as she laid eyes on Bradley and stuck out her arms for a hug, walking down the steps towards him, “Sweetheart! How are you?”




Bradley happily hugged her back and grinned over her shoulder at you. “I’m good Elsie, thank you, how are you?” As if butter wouldn’t melt.




“I’m good my love, I see you’ve been catching up with my darling daughter, don’t let me interrupt. Hope you’ll come over for dinner some time before you get deployed again!” She smiled at you both as she went back into the house.




You glared at Bradley. “Please don’t tell me you’ve started dating my mom?”

You joked.




Bradley winked at you as he turned to walk away, “Rather your mom than you.” He replied.




You knew he was joking, or at least you hoped, but it stung that Bradley hadn’t changed, and what was worse was that he seemingly knew all about your failed relationship yet you knew nothing about his life. The last thing you wanted was for him to have yet another one-up on you.




Little did you know that would be the very least of your worries that month.




———————————

- Part 2 Here -

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 39/42 WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another.

PROLOGUE/1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 (interlude) 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 (interlude) 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 (interlude) 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

CHAPTER THIRTYNINE

              The trip back to North Island passes in a blur, his check-up in the medical bay on the carrier perfunctory, declaring both him and Maverick fit enough to transport, but requiring further assessment being followed by a quick debrief. So he knows he’s going to have to head to the base hospital, and the fact that both Javy and Phoenix fall in on either side of him tell him he’s going to have an escort until he’s declared completely fit, or delivered to his accommodation and told to rest. That’s fine, he kind of needs the support right now. Maverick keeps shooting him little glances, like he’s worried about him and Jake isn’t sure what to make of it.

              He’s just sitting there, waiting for Javy to finish his own check up, to drive him back to his accommodation when he senses someone settle in the chair beside him and he glances to his left and then does a double take. Holy shit. He’s not met the man before, but it’s kind of hard to miss the face of the COMPACFLT even when he’s dressed in civvies. Leo’s Uncle Tom. Holy shit.

              “Admiral Kazansky sir.”

              He gets handed a slip of paper and Jake frowns, accepts it tentatively, worried suddenly that something has happened to Leo and unfolds it.

Lieutenant Seresin, My apologies for the hand written note however my throat is often sore due to the surgeries I’ve had. I wanted to let you know I have taken the prerogative to allow your fiancé into your base accommodation. He is listed as your next of kin so I hope this is an acceptable course of action on my part. I also wanted to meet you and welcome you to the family. I’d like to invite you around for dinner tomorrow night.

              Then there’s an address and phone number, a little note about how he prefers texting and Jake’s mind boggles because the COMPACFLT just gave him his phone number, but what he keeps circling back to is Leo Leo Leo.

              “I – what? Sorry. He’s… here? Why?”

              Admiral Kazansky raises a single eyebrow, and he’s clearly judging Jake, because of course Leo is here to see him. Does he know what’s happened? Fuck Jake hopes not, hates the idea of Leo worrying unnecessarily. He was already itching to get to bed, but now he’s looking forward to it even more, knowing that Leo is going to be there waiting for him.

              “Thank you, sir.”

              Admiral Kazansky nods and then taps the piece of paper.

              “Dinner,” he says, and his voice is rough and scratchy and Jake nods automatically.

              ��Yes sir.”

              That gets him another nod, and then Admiral Kazansky is standing and striding off down the hallway and he supposes he’s going to check in on the rest of the Daggers.

              Okay then.

              Dinner with the COMPACFLT.

…          …          …

              His body is aching despite the painkillers he has onboard, and as he slides the key into the lock and pushes the door open, has no idea what to expect on the other side. Whether Leo will be wide awake and waiting for him, or cooking out his stress and worry, or fast asleep in bed. It doesn’t matter, just the fact that he’s here is more than enough. Javy is watching him from the car, expression concerned, and he turns to wave, closes the door firmly behind him.

              Violet is sitting at the little table, fingers flying over the screen of her phone, takes one look at him and then she’s moving fast and wrapping her arms around him and he hugs her back despite the ache. Her rapid-fire Italian is too much right now, his brain officially suffering from a concussion, even if it is just a mild one. He gets the gist of the words though and he murmurs back sto bene, sto bene. I’m okay. I’m okay. Well he will be. The fact that she is so glad to see him tells him that they obviously know something bad happened. Okay then.

              “Mio Dio Jake… it’s so good to see you.”

              “Yeah. You too Vi… holy shit it’s been a few couple of weeks.”

              “Yeah. Uh… Leonardo’s passed out. Wait. Is this your uniform?”

              “Yes… you’ve seen me in it before,” Jake says, glancing down at his name plate. There isn’t anything different. He hasn’t accidentally put on someone else’s uniform.

              “I… I wasn’t paying attention. You’re Hangman?”

              “Yeah… it’s my callsign. Why?”

              “You… you?”

              “Vi… what’s wrong?”

              “I just… uh. You’re… are you kind of an asshole at work?”

              Jake huffs in amusement.

              “Only every waking moment…”

              “Oh dio… of course you are.”

              “What? You heard of me or something?”

              “Or something,” Vi mutters and Jake laughs, winces as his ribs protest the movement. “Shit. You probably want to see Bradley. Look. He… he’s had a rough couple of days.”

              “Yeah…” Jake starts, because his own days haven’t exactly been peachy but the look on Vi’s face is pinched. “How much do you know?” Jake asks, because what the actual fuck. He’s kind of angry that Leo has been made to worry unnecessarily.

              “That you were shot down and missing. He… he kind of went into shock. Collapsed. Had to drug him a little just to get him through and he’s… well. It’s still wearing off.”

              “What the fuck? You drugged him?”

              “His doctor drugged him. Just to… dampen everything I guess. He couldn’t keep food down, kind of just… shut down. Um… He’s passed out asleep in your bed. I’ve got a hotel room. I couldn’t leave him alone until you got here…”

              “Yeah. Okay. I’m here now.”

              He gets another hug, which he winces through but then she’s out the door with a concerned twist of her lips and he just stands there for a moment, lets his head rest against the door. He’s exhausted and he wants to sleep for fucking days. He looks fucking awful, cuts and bruises, bags under his eyes. He knows Leo won’t care but a little part of him wants to look good.

              As much as he wants a shower he sits on the edge of the bed and runs his fingers through Leo’s hair, leans down to press a kiss to the middle of his forehead. When he pulls back Leo is blinking at him with sleepy eyes.

              “Hi…” Jake whispers, throat tight.

              “Hi… mmm… you’re here…”

              “Yeah… I’m right here.”

              “Oh my god, you’re actually here…”

              Leo is moving then, arms wrapping around Jake and pulling him into the bed. He’s not used to Leo’s fingers being so tight and bruising, but he also supposes his body hasn’t usually withstood an ejection and crash landing in the last forty-eight hours either.

              “Just uh, little bit more gentle baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

              Leo sobs then and Jake wraps his arms around him as tight as possible and just holds him tight.

              “Can’t believe I almost lost you…” Jake murmurs against his hair and he gets a wet sniff in response before Leo is mumbling into his neck.

              “I’m not the one that got shot out of the sky Jake…”

              “For fucks sake… you shouldn’t know that…” Jake mutters, even though he knows it’s much too late and it’s not like he can have words with the COMPACFLT, even if he desperately wants to give him a piece of his mind.

              “Uh… actually, yeah. I need to tell you something. My, uh, Uncle Tom?”

              “Yeah. I know. I figured as much…”

              “What do you mean you figured as much?”

              “Admiral Kazansky. He’s your Uncle Tom.”

              “You… I mean… you already… you know?”

              “I’m not an idiot baby…”

              “Um… how long? How long have you known?”

              “Uh…” Jake starts, tries to think back. “At least a couple of years. I mean… I had my suspicions. Admiral Kerner confirmed it. I kind of went through your dad’s Top Gun class… sorry.”

              “Fuck. No. Don’t apologize. I need to apologize to you, I’ve been meaning to tell you for ages, but I kept forgetting…”

              “Forgetting?” Jake asks, because that doesn’t sound like Leo at all.

              “Well. We usually have more interesting things to talk about. Or do.”

              “Oh… I see how it is. It’s my fault for distracting you…”

              “Just…” Leo starts, but then yawns widely. “Just saying it like it is. I was so worried you’d be angry at me…”

              “Your family is complicated as fuck. I just figured you didn’t want to talk about it. Now I really need a shower. You going to let me go so I can go have one?”

              “No. Just… stay. Please.”

              “Yeah. Okay.”

…          …          …

              He did manage to strip down to almost nothing before he fell asleep last night, and it’s the very early hours of the morning, his bladder urgently reminding him he didn’t do his usual evening routine. His mouth feels disgusting as well. Leo is sacked out beside him, an arm and leg stretched out over him, pinning him and he shuffles, grins into the darkness as Leo’s fingers curl tighter around his torso.

              “Leo baby, I need the bathroom… I’ll be right back.”

              Leo does let him go, although he grumbles under his breath; Jake moves stiffly, knows he’s got a couple of days before he’s through the worst of it. He takes a piss and brushes his teeth, realizing he should probably take some more painkillers for his ribs. He still desperately wants a shower, doesn’t know if the noise would disturb Leo or he’ll sleep through it. Then his reflection appears in the dim half-light of the bathroom, eyes wide as his arms wrap around Jake from behind.

              “You… you’re still here.”

              “Yeah.”

              “I thought I dreamt you…”

              “Not this time,” Jake says, and he wonders if Leo is somehow going to come out of this worse than Jake. If he’ll have nightmares of Jake not coming back to him. Fuck he hopes not. “You want to have a shower with me?”

              Leo nods wordlessly and Jake turns the shower on. It’s going to be a tight squeeze but he’s got the distinct impression Leo isn’t going to give him any personal space for a while yet.

…          …          …

              They’re both quiet and he’s careful as he runs gentle hands over Jake’s body, can barely see the bruises in the dim light, but he can feel the swelling and he’s extra careful. Reaches for the bottle of Jake’s body wash and squeezes some into his hands to lather up and then scrunches his nose.

              “This is… did you switch body washes? This is my one… you smell like me,” Bradley says, and he shoves and his nose into the crook of Jake’s neck and inhales deeply, and even though they’re in the shower he can still smell the familiar scent of his own body wash on Jake. Peppermint-rosemary-green-tea.

              “Uh, well… I bought a couple bottles of your body wash. It’s what I use when I’m deployed. I like smelling like you when we’re apart.”

              “Oh…” Bradley says, and he doesn’t have anything sweetly romantic to say back, just presses a kiss to the curve of Jake’s shoulder and keeps washing him, savoring the closeness and intimacy of the moment. He’s got Jake’s body wash in his apartment, and their house in Texas, a citrus and mint scent which always makes him think of mojitos. He’s used it to jerk off a couple of times, when he’s really missed him; that’s not something he wants to bring up right now. Neither of them are in the right mindset, let along physically up for anything considering Jake winces every time he moves. He can tell Jake later, knows he’ll get a kick out of it and be smug about Bradley smelling like him. Can’t believe he’s never noticed how Jake must have come home smelling like Bradley before reverting to using his own bodywash.

              “I love you…”

              “Love you too. Very glad to be home.”

…          …          …

              They fall back to sleep and when he wakes later he feels infinitely better, knows the painkillers have obviously kicked in and the sleep has helped. Leo is awake, looking clear-eyed, watching Jake with a soft smile on his face and Jake tilts his head up, smiling when Leo automatically leans forward to press a kiss to his lips before pulling back, a question clearly on his mind.

              “If you already know about Ice, do you also know about Mav?”

              “Maverick?” Jake asks, and he resists pulling a face.

              “Yeah…” Leo says with a quiet sigh. “He’s my godfather.”

              “I know. I mean… I figured it out. Figured you didn’t want to talk about it.”

              “You… I. I didn’t. When we first started going out I wasn’t talking to him. But, uh, about a year ago, maybe a little bit longer, Ice got sick again and Mav called me…”

              “Your trips to California…” Jake says with dawning realization.

              “Yeah.”

              “Leo… why didn’t you just tell me?”

              “Well, I wanted to do it on person. Explain. But also, I was worried it might be a deal breaker… they’re a pretty big deal.”

              “I don’t think anything can break this deal…” Jake says, running his index finger over the ring on Leo’s finger. Inwardly though he’s really fucking glad he did in fact stick his neck out and save Maverick’s life. Although Maverick… oh. Huh. Now his behavior makes a bit more sense, with him trying to talk to Jake, and Jake shutting him down at each turn thinking he wasn’t currently talking to Leo.

              Ah well.

              He’ll have to apologize for that next time he sees him. Explain things. He suspects Maverick would have saved any pilot’s life if he could, but his anger at Jake when they’d found each other in the snow, that was all because he was meant to be safely back on the carrier and heading home to Leo. Yeah. Okay. That also explains some things.

              “That’s really good to know… it took me a while to tell them about you, but they know now obviously. Ice told me that both you and Mav got shot down…”

              “Fuck…” Jake breathes out, and he realizes now why it must have hit Leo so hard. To hear the news not only about Jake, but also the godfather who he’s recently reconciled with. No wonder Vi said it had been a rough couple of days.

              “Yeah. I want to go and see him. Just… make sure he’s alright as well.”

              “Of course. I need to ring my family as well. And I’m meant to be catching up with the squad as well,” Jake says, although seeing the squad is definitely lowest on his priority list.

              “Your family don’t know…”

              Jake lets out his breath, grateful for small mercies at least, even as he wishes he could have spared Leo the same.

              “Still, been in blackout and I want to talk to them…”

              “Yeah. Of course. Come on, let me make us some brunch while you call them. You must be starving…”

              Jake considers his stomach and yeah, he’s been feeling nauseated for a bit but right now, he could eat. Especially if it is Leo cooking.

…          …          …

              He knows Jake’s sisters aren’t stupid, the fact that Bradley is here, in California, in Jake’s base accommodation must tell them a lot without telling them anything and he meets their eyes through the tiny screen and just nods. He’s here, and he’ll take care of Jake. They’ll take care of each other. He wonders if Vi has said anything to them, because he definitely wasn’t in any fit state to talk to anyone. God, he’s lucky she was there.

              They’ve eaten, are standing side by side doing the dishes, placing soft kisses on whatever part of the body is closest and he can feel that his equilibrium has returned. He’s fully aware that that might change as soon as Jake is about to be deployed again, but he won’t worry about that right now.

              “Admiral Kazansky invited me to dinner…fucking Uncle Tom…”

              Bradley huffs a laugh, so relieved that Jake just… doesn’t care. Knew already. He turns and presses a proper kiss to his mouth before pulling back.

              “Oh. Cool. Nice. I’ll see you there then?”

              “You’re going to be there?” Jake asks, and he seems a little surprised. Bradley grins, leans into his space and gives him another kiss.

              “Of course. Pretty sure he’s expecting me to cook dinner.” Jake huffs at that and Bradley grins. “How about we go and lie down again for a bit, set an alarm just incase we fall asleep. Then you can catch up with the squad while I go and see Mav. Sound good?”

              “Yeah. Sounds like a plan.”

…          …          …

              He drops Jake off at the Hard Deck with strict instructions to not drink any alcohol. It gets him an eyeroll for his troubles, but it’s quickly followed by a kiss and murmured love you and Bradley feels like he’s on top of the world as he heads to Ice and Mav’s place. He stops in at the grocery store and picks up some supplies, even though Ice said he’d go out and get whatever Bradley needed he always prefers to have a look himself. He knocks on the door and waits.

              “Hey Ice…”

              “Bradley,” Ice says, and he’s enveloped in arms that used to be bigger and stronger, but still make him think of home. He looks around, and he can see Mav’s jacket and boots.

              “He’s in bed resting. Go check…”

              He’s grateful for the permission, wouldn’t want to ask otherwise, steps quietly down the hall and pushes the door open to see Mav passed out spreadeagled across the bed. He looks older than Bradley remembers, even though it’s only been a few months since he saw him. He supposes most of his memories are of Mav over twenty years ago and it’s going to take a while for them to all catch up with the realization that Mav is nearly sixty now. Regardless he’s also alive and safe and he’s so damned grateful about the fact. Glad he’d talked to him beforehand.

              He pulls the door back closed and heads back to Ice, finds him in his study, tapping a brown folder with a finger, which he the raises to beckon Bradley closer. He goes, looks at the folder and then at Ice, who is now holding it out to him.

              “What’s this?” Bradley asks, taking it. It’s thin, and when he opens it there is only two sheets of paper, double sided and he looks at Ice, waiting for an answer.

              “Debrief summary. Classified.”

              Bradley shakes his head, closes it and tries to pass it back, fairly certain he doesn’t want to read it. Already knows how close he came to losing both Jake and Mav.

              “Why? Do you think I need to read this? Can I just not be glad that they’re both home and safe?”

              Ice clearly looks torn, obviously having already made the decision to break the law by sharing classified information with a civilian and now having to deal with him not even wanting to read it.

              “Easier for you to read…”

              Bradley blows out a breath and resigns himself to reading it through, and he starts, reading quickly. It is very matter of fact, no embellishments and there are timestamps scattered throughout when they’re known. Then he reads the part where Jake announces he’s out of flares, and then Maverick saving him…

              “Oh my god…”

              “Keep reading.”

              He does, and he feels his eyes go wide, and suddenly he feels his temper rise and he bites his lip until he tastes blood.

              “What the fuck was Jake thinking?”

              “Keep reading.”

              Bradley knows how this ends. They’re both safe and alive but there’s this whole unbelievable journey and as he reads about Maverick commandeering a fucking Tomcat he looks up at Ice disbelievingly, and he just pulls a face and waves a hand.

              “Keep reading.”

              Bradley has no fucking clue who Billy Avalone is, but he’s just made Bradley’s list of gold-star humans that will never have to pay to eat in any of his restaurants ever again. Holy shit.

              “Holy shit…”

              “Mmm…” Ice hums and Bradley shakes his head.

              “This is… is it real?”

              Ice nods, even though the expression on his face clearly reads like he is struggling to believe it as well.

              “It’s really hard to be angry with someone when their actions saved the life of someone else you love… more than once. Fucking hell.”

              He’s angry, so angry, but he’s also so fucking grateful. They were both so lucky, although he knows they’re also very good pilots, so maybe they didn’t need that much luck. Still. Holy shit. His hands are shaking as he hands back the report and he rubs his hands over his face, trying to settle himself down again. Reaches for his phone and there’s a message there from Jake, simply a string of love hearts and he quickly sends a few back in response.

              “I really need to chop some things up. Come help me prepare dinner.”

…          …          …

              “Maverick has invited us all around for dinner…” Phoenix remarks and Jake blinks, because he hasn’t been invited. And sure, Maverick probably thinks Jake has a problem with him, and he doesn’t blame him for thinking that, but still… Then again;

              “Fuck. I’ve already got dinner plans.”

              “Someone more important than Maverick?”

              “Yeah. Admiral Kazansky.”

              He’s got several pairs of eyes staring at him and he shrugs helplessly, because what is he meant to do? Say no? He pulls the piece of paper with the note on it and shows it to them, eyebrows go up, and then there are a couple of frowns. Phoenix and Bob both go so far as to pull out their phones and he hopes they’re not all taking down the COMPACFLT’s phone number. Shit. He probably shouldn’t have shared that around. Too late now though.

[sorchathered]

Please remember your favorite writers are attention whores with a praise kink, they need validation to survive. Feed them comments and reblogs to save a life.

[moondancediner]

Love of my Life

summary: the dagger squad meets hangman's best-kept secret

jake seresin x reader

word count: 1490

warnings: no editing, fluff

a/n: this popped into my head the other night... enjoy! also this gif makes me CHOKE ohmylord

song rec: love of my life - harry styles

masterlist

It wasn’t on purpose. Nights when you and Jake ended up at the same bar were never planned, mostly because your friends from work always wanted to go somewhere downtown, and Jake’s friends from work always wanted to go to the Hard Deck so there was never a chance for the two groups to intersect. 

Tonight, however, your friends had enough of hearing about all your nights at the Hard Deck with your fighter pilot husband who drops by work every once and a while with lunch or a gorgeous bouquet of flowers. They decided to venture out to the Hard Deck tonight for your monthly get-together and you weren’t going to miss an opportunity to ogle at your husband from across the bar while he played darts and pool with his Dagger Squad friends who just so happened to be in town visiting. 

And that’s exactly where you found yourself on this lovely Friday night. Your friend walked over to your standing table with another drink for you and you thanked her with a smile. She immediately started diving into some workplace gossip, keeping her voice quiet since so many of your colleagues had managed to make it out tonight. You half-listened to her go on how bad the break room refrigerator smelled the other day but your real focus was on Jake who was playing pool with Phoenix, Fanboy, and Bob. He had Bob on his team and you were surprised to see him actually give the man a chance to play without correcting or coaching him. 

You knew all about the Dagger Squad, when Jake was first sent out here you followed him, even knowing this wouldn’t be a permanent duty station, and he talked about everyone he was competing against non stop. From the moment he came home after training you were getting a full rundown of the days happening (you were sworn to secrecy of the top secret events, of course). You learned quickly who was who, even if you never got the opportunity to meet them. 

After the mission, you were pulling out boxes and getting ready to move what little belongings you brought over to the island when Jake came home and surprised you to your core. He accepted a teaching position here on the North Island and you were staying for the foreseeable future. 

You were shocked but over the moon. Jake would be in one spot for at least a couple years and wouldn’t be off on deployments and missions so often. You could start a family and he could actually be there for all of it. 

“Hello? Anybody home?” A hand waving in front of your face brought you out of memories and a trance you hadn’t realized you were in. You laughed and smiled at your friend, but not before catching the eye of Phoenix, who totally caught you staring at Jake. 

“Sorry, sorry, got a little lost there.” You waved her hand out of your face and took another sip from your drink. 

“I’ll say,” she laughed, “I mean, I get it.” Her eyebrows wagged and you laughed heartily, throwing your head back. She was always complimenting your choice of husband and you had to agree with her, he was fine as hell. 

“Fuck, I think one of his friends just caught me staring,” you said once the laughter died down. 

“Remind me again why he doesn’t tell them about you?” 

“It started off as a joke,” you start, “he wanted to see how long it would take one of them to notice, and now it’s just an ongoing bet we have.” 

“A bet I am about to win, by the way.” Jake suddenly appears behind you and you’re happy to see him until his words sink in.

“You’re not allowed to interfere!” You point at him and he just laughs. 

“No interference, I promise.” He leans on the table you two are standing at and you almost forget about the bet for a second because his green eyes still captivate you even after all this time. 

“Well, what are you doing over here then?”

“See now, that’s where it gets interesting because someone caught you looking at me,” he tips his beer over in the direction of his friends, who scatter like chickens when you turn your head to look at them, “and they bet me $20 that I couldn’t walk over here and get your phone number.” 

“Hmmm, seems like fair play to me.” Your friend interjects, looking contemplatively between you and your cheating husband. 

A noise comes out of your mouth, somewhere between disbelief and betrayal. You only had one month left before the bet was yours and you could claim your prize and now this happens, the perfect opportunity falls right into Jake’s lap. 

“Did none of them notice the giant ring on my finger?” You hold up your wedding rings, which glint even in the dim bar lighting and Jake takes your fingers in his hand, bending them towards himself before placing a kiss on your knuckles. You swoon. It’s impossible not to. “Don’t try to distract me, you’re in trouble.” 

“Come on darlin’,” His hand fell away from yours but moved slyly around your hip, where it curled around the belt loops of your shorts, and just then, while his face was inching towards yours, your wedding song came on. 

“When did this song get added to the jukebox?” 

“I may have put in a special request.” His smile did you in. You met him halfway and when your lips met that familiar kaleidoscope of butterflies took flight. Jake pulled away just to smile at you some more before pressing a few quick kisses to your lips. When he backed away enough, you took the chance to look over his shoulder and see what his friends thought. 

The entire group was standing around, completely gobsmacked at what just occurred and you could only imagine what was running through their minds. 

“After you, Mrs. Seresin,” Jake whispered in your ear. You gave him the best glare you could but he just laughed and grabbed your hand to walk you over to the group of people you already felt like you knew. 

Jake chuckled as you got within ear shot. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet someone,” he pulled you under his arm and you automatically slid your own across his back, “this is my wife.” He said it with genuine pride, a stark contrast to his usual cocky tone everyone was used to. 

“Wife?” Rooster repeated, dumbfounded.

“Pick your jaw up off the floor, Bradshaw.”

You ignored Jake and introduced yourself to everyone with a quick wave. “It’s nice to finally meet you all.” 

There was a beat of silence while you watched everyone process what was happening, but Phoenix broke it with a laugh. “You’ve been holding out on us, Bagman!” 

“Yeah, what the hell, man!” Rooster seemed downright offended that Jake would keep such a secret from them and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“It’s not all Jake’s fault,” You come to his defense, “we had a bet going, which I just lost.” 

“What bet did you two have?” Bob asked, coming forward to introduce himself to you properly. 

You shook his outstretched hand, smiling. “We wanted to see how long it would take for someone to figure out he was married.”

“You… you don’t wear a wedding ring?” Rooster seemed to be having the hardest time with this revelation and it was cracking you up. 

Jake pulled his dog tags out from under his shirt, proudly turning them around to display his gold wedding band that perfectly matched the one around your finger. They both belonged to his grandparents and he was so proud to give you his grandmother's band on your wedding day. 

Phoenix studied the two of you for a moment, watched the way you started to sway to a song and Jake immediately joined in, watched how his attention always drifted back to you, and how his entire cocky dimenor melted away as soon as you were near. 

“So, what’s the story? How did you manage to bag Hangman?” Natasha asked, leaning her hands on the pool cue in front of her. 

Jake pretended to be offended. “I’m not that wild.” 

You roll your eyes affectionately before diving into the story of how you and Jake met. It was nothing spectacular or anything you would want to make a movie about, but it was a whirlwind romance that ended in the two of you married in the Seresin family’s backyard three summers ago. 

When you finished your story, all smiles for your husband, Rooster raised his beer in a toast. “Welcome to the family, Mrs. Seresin.” 

Jake couldn’t help but smile. It felt good to let the team in on his best-kept secret, even if he was gonna pay for her losing the bet later on tonight. 

---

thanks for reading ily

Requests are open 🫶🏻

[promisingyounglady]

four eyes. | BF x Reader

PAIRINGS: Bob Floyd x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS: asking bob to make a mess of himself on your face while you wear his glasses? absolutely.

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

WARNINGS: ahem, SMUT, established relationship, profanity, oral (m!receiving), deepthroating, facial, handjob, cum eating, dirty talk, begging, slightly sub!reader, praise, aftercare and such sweet affection from bobby, not proofread and mdni!!, reader is a minx, brief mention of term ‘slut’, size kink, awkward sweetheart w a big dick!bob,

A/N: this is the most filthiest shit I’ve ever written and if you like this ur crazy… *reblogs, comments and likes the post*

“What are you up to?” he drawls, watching carefully as you crawl over his naked midriff and through the sea of bedsheets. Post-sex endorphins were through the roof right now for Bob, a wave of happy tiredness sweeping over the pilot.

You huff, hand outstretched as you reach for Bob's glasses perched on the bedside table.

“I wanna try these on” you say to him, balancing yourself as you try to grab the frames. Bob chuckles, a hand coming to rub your ass lovingly.

You bit your lip to fight the feeling of a grin spreading on your face, the feeling of Bob's soft hands tickling you as you playfully pushed him away, all the while he simply beams at you.

The hand supporting yourself on his hard chest slips, causing you to collapse on top of your boyfriend, your naked breasts brushing over his cock and sending a shiver down his spine.

A firm hand comes to still yourself. “Careful” he says softly, hands warm.

Bob looks over, grabbing the glasses just as you were about to pick them up, and holding them out of your reach. You protest, trying to get ahold of the frames you loved so much. Bob puts them on, allowing himself to properly see his girl.

“You don’t wanna wear these, they don’t look good on anyone. Including me.” he mumbles, adjusting you on top of him.

But you're quick to swipe them off his face, ignoring Bob's laughs when you put the glasses on yourself and straddle his hips. “I like them, they’re cute,” you tell him.

“Well what d’ya know?” Bob utters softly to himself when he sees you, gazing up at his girl wearing the steel rimmed aviators and looking absolutely breathtaking.

“Hi there, four eyes” he chuckles, finding it odd saying a phrase he’s been nicknamed all his childhood. Hell, even Seresin has no problem calling him that to this day.

Bob smiles, strong but soft hands coming to rest on your hips as you sat dangerously close to where his happy trail leads to. Your brows furrowed as you viewed the world through his lenses.

“Jesus, Bob, you really are blind!” You uttered, looking down at the blurry man seated against the bedpost.

Bob’s become busy at the moment, pressing pecks to your hardended nipples. He simply nods, pretending he’s listening.

“You should go to the eye doctor, honey”

Bob peaks through, giving you a look. “That’s where I got them”

“Hm.”

The room is silent, a soft glow of the afternoon sunlight peeking through the white shutters. You feel the corners of Bob’s lips curling into a smile against your skin, a silent worship to your body.

“You’re so soft.” he murmurs.

“Honey,” you call to your boyfriend.

“Hm?” Bob replies absentmindedly, still brushing his face along your chest, hugging you closer.

You tug on his brown locks, pulling his head from your body and looking down at him.

“I wanna try something.” you grinned, a mischievous glint in your eyes mixed with a bottle of excitement. You quickly press a kiss to his lips.

Bob watches as you pull from his grasp, lips forming a small frown from the loss of contact as you shuffled down the bed so you were now kneeling on the floor by the edge.

Bob looks over at you quizzically, wondering what you were up to before you beckon towards him, ushering him to sit at the edge of the bed.

“Come sit, Robert” you directed, calling him by his birth name to get his attention.

His soft cock limps near his thighs as he adjusts himself, sitting before you in all his naked glory, hair tousled by your hands and a pink blush ghosting his cheeks. His hand comes up to play with your hair, tucking a loose strand behind your ear. You look up in seriousness and confess.

“I want you to cum on these glasses”

Bob stops all motion, hand still tucked behind your ear. The room falls silent.

“What?”

You ignore the bafflement of your crimson cheeked boyfriend, bending down to lick a long stripe up his veiny shaft. A loud moan and harsh tug against your scalp brings you to take him further, almost triggering your gag reflexes. It all happens so fast. Bob mutters incoherently from the sudden gesture, both of you going slightly insane when your nose presses against his pubic bone as tears form near your eyes.

“Baby, hold on a moment, Jesus fuck!”

You’re worried you’re going to make a mess on the floor from the way your slick almost drips from your pussy.

You’ve been thinking of this fantasy for a while if you were to be honest. Bob pulls you back, gasping for air as a proud feeling settles in your chest. It’s not everyday you hear Bob cuss like that.

He’s panting hard, watching as a bit of saliva is smeared on your lips, eyes glossy. Bob sighs in exasperation as you decide to stroke his cock with your hands.

“You gotta let me speak-“

“Please, Bobby” you beg, pressing kisses to the pink tip and relishing in the way you feel him harden in your hand. A loud groan escapes Bob's throat, feeling sensitive despite having had sex the whole afternoon with you.

“I want you to cum while I have your glasses on” you told him, kitten licks getting the best of your boyfriend. “Like in those pornos” you mumble softly, your shy giggles driving Bob insane.

“Nobody says pornos anymore” he mumbles telling you, swallowing hard when you tug on his cock tighter for not responding.

Bob clears his throat. “You, um, want me to give you a facial?” He asks softly, holding onto your hand that's stroking his cock.

You nod eagerly.

“A-Are you sure?” He says, worried that taking him like this is gonna wear you out. In all honesty, the boy can’t help but grow hard at the thought of cumming all over your innocent face, big eyes covered by his glasses milked by his seed.

You nod, excitement and horniness flowing through your body.

“Please, honey, I want you to see me painted” you sighed, thumb brushing over the thick tip, smearing precum over the slit.

Bob thinks he’s gonna cum just from this angle, but he needs you so badly he tries to regain composure. He bends down to kiss you, tasting himself on your lips and letting your face be held in his soft touch. “Let me know if it's too much baby” he addresses in concern, the tears on your cheeks worrying him.

You sniffle, nodding your head to assure him. “Want you so bad, Bobby, let me suck you”

Your last few words are incoherent from the way you let Bob’s big cock stuff your throat, making you gag but desperately hold on. Bob lets go, both hands coming to balance himself on the edge, one gripping the bed sheets.

The sensation is fucking marvellous. You feel so full, loving the way the stretch of your mouth and untouched ache of your pussy turn you cockdrunk on Bob Floyd’s dick.

You look up, desperate to see how he's taking you, wanting to see the expression of him getting the daylights sucked out of him.

Lieutenant Bob ruts his hips pathetically, trying so hard not to make a mess of your mouth and hurt you. His head is pulled back, groans falling from his soft lips as he praises you so good.

“That’s it baby, doing so well for me” he sighs, now two large hands coming to push you a little further, a groan falling from his lips as you take him fully now.

“God, I love you!” he cries out loud, an instinctive response coming from your boyfriend as he caresses your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear. You smile, aviator lenses reflecting the light as your lips are wrapped securely around his dick.

”So pretty, such a pretty girl” he says under his breath, admiring the way your tits bounce along with every stroke on his cock. You gasp, pulling away as you let your fist do the rest.

“I love you too, Bobby” you gasped, looking up to find Bob staring at you intensely, with such a fierce gaze of love, sensuality, and pure awe.

”H-How,” he begins, starting to feel a familiar feeling settle inside him. “How did I get so lucky with you?” He admits, wanting nothing more but to see his cum painting his glasses you’re wearing. He thinks he might just let you have them. Being able to see is overrated anyways.

“I think I’m gonna cum, baby” he lets out, watching as your eyes get eager, adjusting your sore knees so you can get the perfect angle.

“Please baby, give it to me” you begged, pussy so sensitive you have to make sure you hold yourself up enough so the cold wooden floors don’t brush against your folds.

Watching you rub his dick like that, mouth open and face ready is an image Bob will have ingrained in his mind forever, a hot spurt of milky liquid shooting onto your lips as Bob finally gives you what you wanted.

Incoherent mumbles fill the sweaty bedroom, letting one hand cup his balls as the other makes sure to smear the warm fluid all over your lips, glasses starting to get foggy.

“Fucking hell” Bob cries out, spilling your name from his lips like a sacred mantra.

You hum, a wave of both happiness and satisfaction washing over you as you sit in front of Bob’s glory.

You let the man come down from his high, tasting salt and your boyfriend in your mouth. Before you can even clean yourself up, Bob is ripping off the dirtied glasses framing your face, and grabbing you towards him for a passionate kiss. The action makes you dizzy, your red, sore knees almost buckling under.

It’s only a while after when he pulls away, grabbing for a box of tissues near the nightstand and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I’m sorry for the mess” he replies shyly, the image of this tall, naked, handsome, and yet totally awkward giant taking care of you making it all worthwhile.

“It’s okay” you reply, voice hoarse. You couldn’t help but feel happy, even if you didn’t cum (Bob would see to it later of course).

You feel him use the tissues to wipe your chin, face, and tits, or really, what was leftover after you sucked it all up like a slut.

“You’re crazy sometimes, you know that?” Bob mumbles, shaking his head as he smiles at you, his soft touch so rewarding.

You laugh, latching your arms around his neck and letting him hoist you up so easily. His semi-hard cock limps against your stomach, both of you standing up and lips pressing together in another soft kiss.

”Thank you for the most mind blowing head of my life.” He jokes.

”Thanks for the facial” you gleam, sucking your fingers with a pop that makes Bob weak, falling back down on the mattress and taking you with him so you’re straddling him again.

Bob reaches for the glasses, getting a tissue so he could wipe them before an idea pops in your head and you stop him.

You put on the glasses again. He looks up.

“Bobby, where’s the Polaroid camera?”

[sebsxphia]

shopping lists.

robert ‘bob’ floyd x reader.

￫ summary: you rush to the shops after work to do a quick food shop, but bob floyd was not on your shopping list.

￫ word count: 3.3K.

￫ warnings: mentions of food, supermarkets, feeling hungry and fluff, fluff, fluff.

￫ authors notes: my description of the supermarket is based off uk supermarkets, so i apologise if there’s inaccuracies to us supermarkets! this also hasn’t been proof read. my main masterlist can be found here! 💌

Bob was starving.

He cursed himself under his breath as he drove back from base. He had the driver's window in his baby blue truck rolled down and his forearm resting on the side, his fingers pushing through the sticky summer air as he drove. Air conditioning alone wouldn’t keep him cool, as he still wore his flight suit from training earlier that day. He could feel how the ring of sweat around his neck was sticking to his collar, but he simply didn’t have the time or willpower to shower and change on base.

It had just gone five o’clock in the afternoon and he had gotten off later than he expected. He would’ve already had a small meal to keep him going until dinner by now, but low and behold, when he awoke this morning, as the sun was only a crack along the horizon, he realized he had no substantial food in his fridge.

Bob was a planner. He would do his fortnightly shop routinely, but something came up at work and it had simply slipped his mind. The only thing he could do now was drive as fast as he could to the supermarket, slip in, whisk around the aisles in record time and drive back home to cook something up in under an hour. He had another early start the next morning and as always, he had a routinely early bedtime.

Being a pilot made his reactions lightening fast. This would be easy for him.

As he pulled into the car park and zoned in on a space, he noticed another car also going for the same spot.

You were inches away from the space and although he was in a hunger-fueled rush, being the ever polite gentleman that he was, he let you go for it. Through the glare of the late afternoon sun reflecting off your windshield, he couldn’t quite make out the person driving, but he saw how you politely lifted your hand off the steering wheel to motion, “Thanks!”

Bob responded in turn with his wave and warm smile. He drove a little further forward past your car to find another space and the reflecting sun moved against your windshield to reveal you in a clearer light. You had the sweetest little smile as you thanked Bob. Your lips curled up to meet the creases in the corners of your eyes and your cheeks were a sweet rosy colour.

As he drove away and around the corner of the car park, Bob chewed at the inside of his cheek, still with a small smile twitching on his lips. He had a small hope that he would see you inside, only because he wanted to let you know that he was more than happy to give you the spot.

No other reason.

He was pulled out of his thoughts about your sweet smile as he felt his stomach grumble furiously. After doing a loop around, he managed to find a spot at the opposite end of the car park. He of course cursed himself again under his breath for going shopping at peak hours after everyone had finished work on a weekday, but he only blamed himself. He didn’t blame you. You were simply there first.

The almost freezing blast of air conditioner on his face as he entered the supermarket, was a welcomed change to the ever-growing humid air outside. The tiny, blonde baby hairs on the back of his sweat-coated neck stood up momentarily, as the icy air flowed down and through his flight suit. He felt himself cool down almost instantly. He pulled up with a shopping cart and started with fruits and vegetables at the front of the store. He was desperate to move fast, but his boots were heavy and searingly hot with every step he took around the aisles. That was the only spot on his body that the air conditioning could not reach.

As he came to the end of the fruits and vegetables section, he turned to reach for the tomatoes when suddenly a flurry swooped by him. It caught his attention instantly and he whipped his head around, with his torso moving inwards towards the tomatoes to avoid bumping into whoever had just swept by him.

It was you. The same person in the car park who he had given his space to. He observed as you descended the cheese and yoghurt aisle.

A small lump got caught in his throat and he swallowed thickly, as he watched how your sundress swished around your bare calves. He couldn’t help but let his cobalt blue eyes from behind his glasses, glance over you. Bob was raised right by his mom. He was respectful and well-mannered, but the simple and undeniable fact was, that you were the prettiest person he had ever laid eyes on. Even from the glow of the cool light down the food aisle, it could not diminish your luminescence.

He reached his slender index finger up to his glasses and pushed them up his nose ever so slightly. The prior sudden movement had caused them to jolt down the bridge of his nose by a centimetre.

As you walked straight down the aisle and turned to face the cheese selection, the delicate material of your sundress moved back into place to frame your body. It rippled over each curve of your figure and Bob’s heartbeat doubled in time when he caught sight of your soft belly in your sundress. He sucked in a harsh breath between his teeth as he wondered for a fleeting second, how soft your belly would feel to hold when his face was buried between your thighs.

He registered the smile creases in the corners of your eyes. The same ones that he noticed first in the parking lot and how they narrowed to read the label in front of you. Your eyelashes fluttered against one another as you blinked against the glaring light humming above you. As you raked over your options, he watched how your teeth grazed over your bottom lip and chewed nimbly at it. The same habit he had.

He needed some cheese and yoghurt himself, so perhaps he could catch you there.

Bob meandered some meters behind you and acted as if he was choosing his yoghurt option. He already knew what he needed. The same yoghurt he’d had for the past five years, but he was drawn to you. Like a moth to the radiating flame.

He cocked his head behind him to glance in your direction and you had already moved down the aisle to assess your next grocery choice. He took his multipack of yoghurts, placed it in his cart and wheeled it around to stand by you, again acting as if he was evaluating his cheese choice. From behind his glasses, he took another sideways glance. You were performing a balancing act of holding your shopping basket’s flimsy handles, holding the cheese in your other hand and somehow holding open a small notebook and crossing out the presumed item, with a pen.

At a glance, Bob saw how inside your notebook was filled with lots of little scribbles, and crossed-out parts and as you went to close it, the front cover was decorated with sweet little stickers.

“Jesus Christ. That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.” He thought to himself.

As you went to slide the pen back into the elasticated band, it slipped from your balancing act and slid along the dotted tiles of the supermarket, straight for Bob’s direction. It hit the sole of his boots and he heard your voice for the first time.

“Ah, shit.” It was muttered under your breath with annoyance, but he thought your voice sounded like sweet honey.

Before his thought process could catch up to him, he wondered if you tasted like sweet honey.

You spoke directly to Bob this time, as you scurried over and bent down to pick up the pen by his boots. He caught a fleeting glance at the swell of your breasts, resting in your sundress.

You laughed out faintly with your apology. “I’m sorry, my mistake—”

As you moved too quickly with embarrassment to pick up your pen, your flimsy shopping basket was swinging and the cheese you were holding also fell out of your grasp.

“Ah! Fuck.” You quietly cursed again to yourself, or so you thought.

Bob had caught your second string of curses to you accidentally dropping something and he thought it was rather cute.

“Here, let me.” He chuckled to himself as he squatted down to reach for your cheese and pen.

Both now standing upright, he handed your belongings back to you and felt how the palms of your hands were as soft as butter against his fingertips. You looked at each other directly and now without the glare of your windshield, he could finally see every delicate feature that made up your beautiful face. He thought that you were so pretty.

You went to open your mouth and speak, but your words got caught on your tongue. This kind stranger was incredibly handsome. He looked smart with his clean-shaven face and his dusty blonde hair parted neatly to one side, with a thick swoop. His rounded glasses didn’t have a single smudge on them and his cheeks were round as he smiled at you, although it still didn't take away from his strong cheekbones and firm jaw.

You blinked in a flurry as you took in his build. You were accustomed to seeing pilots around here with the air base being so close to town, but it was rare to see one in what you presumed was a flight suit of some kind. It was deep forest green in colour and harmoniously blended against his striking eyes from behind his glasses. It wasn’t tightly fitted, yet still, his broad shoulders and firm biceps were flexing against the coarse material. His thighs stood strong with his heavy boots planted firmly against the tiled floor. He was tall and practically towered over you, but he respectfully kept a distance between you both.

“I’m sorry again, thank you.” You smiled bashfully at him. Your eyelashes were still fluttering against one another and your rounded cheeks were dusted pink.

Bob couldn’t help himself. He grinned as he shook his head and politely rejected your apology.

“No need to apologise, Ma’am. It’s all good.”

Suddenly your eyes widened and your eyebrows raised with them.

The glimmer from the overhead light in the supermarket made your eyes sparkle with such an inviting glow.

“Oh! You were the nice guy in the parking lot! You let me take your space!” You pointed your finger towards him. His truck was significantly higher than your car and you were only able to get a glance at his face from behind your windshield.

Bob let out a chuckle and waved his large hand in front of him, diminishing the idea. He further wanted to wave off the ever-growing flush of heat that was creeping up from his chest. It flushed over his neck and cheeks and sat right under his glasses. The blasting air conditioning had once again failed him and his chest, neck and cheeks were now flushed warm.

“Oh, hey. Not at all, it wasn’t my space. You had it, fair and square.”

You giggled in response. His respectful and polite demeanour had your stomach feeling as though a million and one butterflies were fluttering through you, making their way up through your heart and coming out of your mouth with sweet giggles.

“Alright, thanks again though, I appreciate it. I was in such a rush after work. Always the way, isn’t it?”

You laughed again and the sound flowed to Bob’s ears, making his playful smile reach the tips of his ears.

“Tell me about it.” He agreed with a grin.

You flashed a last beaming smile at Bob as the conversation between two strangers in a supermarket came to its natural end and you turned around to continue following your shopping list.

That’s what he thought.

As you turned down the aisle, you once again cursed at yourself for not being more forward, flirtatious, or whatever it would be that would land you his number. He was gorgeous. Undeniably handsome. And he was so stupidly charming and polite.

You turned on a quick heel to see if he was still there, but he had disappeared and you were left alone in the chilled aisle, with nothing to comfort you but your notebook and the static overhead lights.

Bob too mentally scolded himself for not asking such a pretty sweetheart like yourself for your number. As he watched you turn away, he chewed on his bottom lip, curled his fists tightly, released them and then walked away.

He was a gentleman. He would not harass someone if they didn’t show a sign of being interested in him. But he was sure you were. He had a sharp and watchful eye, and he saw how rosy your cheeks turned and how your chest stuttered slightly as your breath got caught in your throat. But he was pulled out of his battling thoughts but his stomach grumbly furiously at him again.

He whisked down the remaining aisles to finish his shop, still with the hope of a fleeting chance to see you again, but he couldn’t ignore what his body was telling him. As he checked out, tapped his card on the machine and wheeled his shopping cart out of the store, he still had both his trained eyes on his surroundings. Just in case there was a single chance, a perfect moment, where he could catch you. Bob had been extremely methodical about his choices in life and he only ever perused something if he was certain. He had never been so utterly and completely sure that you were the one for him.

He fished his truck keys out of his flight suit pocket and just as he was about to turn the key in the door, he remembered.

“Fuck. Tomatoes.”

Bob didn’t need a list. It was all written down mentally and he rarely forgot things, but he remembered that as he was about to reach for the tomatoes, you came by earlier in a flurry. He would’ve called it fate if he ever had a chance of seeing you again.

“Fuck! Tomatoes.”

You groaned and threw your head back in annoyance. It was on your list, sitting on the next line down under cheese and then you remembered why you forgot it in such a fluster. You slammed the boot door of your car back down, locked it shut and headed back inside to grab the final item. Your feet moved quickly along the tile floor and you turned on your heel to find the stack of plump, rosy red tomatoes in front of you.

“Hello again.”

The familiar voice made the tiny baby hairs on your neck stand up and a row of goosebumps rise on your forearms in tow. His smile radiated warmth as it crinkled up in the corners of his eyes. He stood tall over you, still in his flight suit, but again you didn’t feel intimidated in the slightest. You felt a true sense of calm and safety wash over you.

Your lips parted to gasp with happy surprise at seeing him again, before they curled up into a relieved smile, mirroring his own.

“Hello again.” You repeated back to him. “I forgot tom—”

“I forgot some tom—”

You both spoke in unison, before snorting out a quiet laugh between yourselves.

“Apologies. You go.” Bob gestured towards you and the vegetable stand.

“I’m going to make a sauce when I get back home, but I completely forgot the main ingredient.” You waved it off with another giggle, yet still, you did not attempt to reach for said important ingredient. You simply stayed facing him with a gleaming smile.

Bob’s mouth watered at the sound of your homemade tomato sauce. His stomach still growled at him from inside, but he also felt how it twisted and turned on itself with exhilaration. He pictured coming home to you after work, sitting down together at your dining table and sharing the homemade sauce. You were, without a fault, the only person he had ever truly envisioned a future with and he couldn’t repeat the same mistake as before.

He nimbly chewed at his bottom lip, failing to notice how you were also doing the same, as he mentally prepared his next statement.

“That sounds, delicious. I hope I’m not oversteppin’ here, and please tell me if I am, but I’d love to have y’ number, Ma’am. I’d love to try some of y’ homemade sauce, if that’s okay with you?”

Bob was not an overly religious man, but he swallowed thickly and prayed with every hope that the last part of his sentence didn’t come across in the wrong way. It felt longer than mere seconds to receive your response, but he breathed out a short sigh of relief when he saw how your eyes crinkled up into an animated smile to match his.

“Yes, yes! I’d love that. Please, let me get my book…” Your fingers were trembling with giddy anticipation as you worked to open your bag and reached for your notebook. “Uh…” You flipped through to find a clean page and when you landed on one, you gestured it towards him. “Here you go.” You gushed.

“Thank you.” He began. “I’m Bob, by the way. Bob Floyd.”

You mentioned your name and he felt his heart flutter at how pretty it was. By how eagerly you had accepted his proposal to exchange numbers, he could see that you were just as into him, as he was with you. And so, he let his true feelings become known.

“That’s a real pretty name, sweetheart.”

You sucked in a harsh breath between your teeth and let out a bashful, “Oh…”

The sweet name that he had just called you, made your legs nearly twitch and tremble on the supermarket floor.

His long, slender fingers curled around the pen as he scribbled down his number. Your notebook and pen looked so small in his hands.

When he offered it back to you, you wrote down your number in a flurry and tore the piece of paper out from the binder. You handed it over and he tucked it into the top pocket of his flight suit. You thought that that was the hottest thing you have ever witnessed a man doing.

Bob Floyd, as you now knew him, had seriously gotten into your head and clouded any reasonable senses.

You both exchanged some further light conversation, still with Bob shamelessly and sweetly flirting with you, before you both picked up your tomatoes, paid and left for the car park together. He insisted on walking you to the car to ensure that you got there safely, even though it was still broad daylight and when he left, he placed a soft kiss on your cheek.

You both went back to your separate homes and cooked your separate meals. As you were about to get into bed you sent Bob a text, the taste of your homemade sauce still dancing on your taste buds.

“this weekend, would you like me to show you how i make the sauce? would you like to come to mine? x”

You were caught by surprise when your phone dinged with a message notification moments after.

“I would love that, thank you for the invite, sweetheart. Can’t wait :-) x”

Bob lay in bed that night thinking about how to tell the story of how you both met at your wedding.

taglist: @beachbabey @tallrock35 @luckyladycreator2 @unmistakablyunknown @flames-thebitch @birdy-bat-writes @thedroneranger @randomfandomgirl97 @kmc1989 @swiftsgirlfriend

tagging those who may be interested: @sunblchdfly @floydsglasses @fridamoss @floydsmuse @bobfloydsbabe @laracrofted @hangmanapologist @rhettabbotts @lewmagoo @peachystenbrough @auroralightsthesky @cherrycola27 @withahappyrefrain @sugarcoated-lame @senawashere

[vivwritesfics]

"What do you mean his name is Bob?"

Your girl friends all laughed around you as they repeated your boyfriends name. "Nobody is called Bob in this day and age," said another one of your girl friends. "That's a grumpy old man's name."

You sank in your seat and sipped your drink. "Shut up," you grumbled. "His name is Bob and that's that."

"Still," they said. "I bet he calls you honey and shit like that."

He did call you honey.

And you loved it.

It was at that moment when you realised that you and your girl friends were at different stages of life. They were fucking around and having fun (honestly, as they should), and you had found someone to settle down with. Someone who made you unbelievably happy.

His name just so happened to be Bob.

"So," said another one of your girl friends. "When do we get to meet this famous Bob?" She asked.

Reluctantly, you answered. "He's picking me up later."

The evening progressed. The teasing about your sweet boyfriend's name continued, but it had lightened up significantly.

As you finished up your final drink, your phone buzzed on the table. I'm here, sweetheart xx, the text said.

Picking up you bag, you pulled your skirt down slightly. "He's here, isn't he?" One of your girl friends called, eyes lighting up. "Can we meet him?"

Releasing a sigh, you gestured for them to follow you out of the bar. Bob's truck was outside, with Bob leaning against it.

Wearing a sweater and jeans, scruff from where he hadn't been shaving while on leave, and his glasses. He looked like a dream.

"That's not him," one of your girl friends whispered in disbelief. "That hunk is not called Bob."

He looked over to you and your little group and pushed away from the truck, grinning as he approached. "Hi, honey," he said and wrapped his arms around you.

You leaned into him and his lips met the top of your head. "Bob, this is everyone. Everyone, this is Bob."

He shook each of their hands and began asking who needed a ride home.

Bob might have been a grumpy, old man's name, but your Bob was the sweetest man out there.

[startrekfangirl2233-fic-recs]

Abby!

This was everything I was expecting and more! Oh to be the woman who makes Jake Seresin bashful and sweet? What do I have to do?!

Hi Abby! I love the idea of you doing a drabble weekend!

Can I please request "I had a very nice dream that started like this." with Jake please? It's so good that when I saw this, I just had to ask!

"I had a very nice dream that started like this."

You stilled your hips, making eye contact with the man whose waist you were currently straddling.

"Really?" Raising an eyebrow at Jake Seresin wasn't unusual. The man did questionable things. Granted, it was questionable to bring him home.

He was just so.....cute.

As soon as you walked in, Jake had his eyes on you. But unlike the cocky demeanor you had been warned about, he seemed....shy.

You had your doubts at first. The way his eyes honed in on you was easily misconstrued as him finding new prey.

But then his eyes remained on you while his hands were balled into fists. You expected he’d come over to speak any minute. Except he didn’t. Jake remained with his coworkers, eyeing you as a flush of red became a seemingly permanent addition to his face.

Shy was not a word many would use to describe Jake Seresin. Cocky. Brazen. Egotistical.

But as you straddled his waist, he looked….bashful. Nearly dopey with a smile that could only be described as lovesick.

“Yeah. You’re….like a goddess.” Had anyone called you that? His green eyes were shining with sincerity.

How sweet. Seemed only right to show your appreciation. You moved down towards the edge of your bed, fingers toying with the waistband of his khaki uniform. His breath hitched as you began to unbutton, hips eager to accommodate as you pulled down his pants and boxers, revealing a dick hat backed up his cocky attitude.

At least he wasn’t overcompensating for that department.

Your touch was light as a feather, fingers trailing down his stomach, over his thighs, then finally to the base. He was hairier than you expected. Guys like him usually came to you clean shaven everywhere. The soft, dark hair was a nice surprise. There was no denying Jake was attractive.

“Pretty,” You murmured, swiping the bulbous head. The action earned a sharp inhale from Jake.

“You can make noise. I like it when guys do that,” moving back up, your hand gripped the base of his cock, your entrance hovering over it.

Apparently, Jake Seresin could follow directions when it came to getting rode. It started as a whimper, then turned into a groan as you sank down to the base.

“Y’feel, fuck, really good,” He grunted through his teeth, bringing a smile to your face.

“I know.” His cock was honestly the perfect size, just enough girth and length to cause a pleasurable stretch, but nothing painful. Just like you told him earlier, his hands remained at his sides, waiting for permission.

Raising yourself off of him, you quickly sank back down, and oh, how you would do anything to hear him moan like that again. Leaning forward, your teeth sank into his neck as your hips moved in a dizzying rhythm.

“You can touch me. Want it,” you cooed against his tanned skin. Eager to obey you, Jake’s hands found themselves gripping your plush hips. Your body was all tantalizing curves, ones Jake couldn’t stop thinking about as soon as he saw you walk into the Hard Deck. He placed his feet flat on the bed, allowing him to thrust his hips upwards.

“Good boy,” You purred and his cock definitely twitched at that praise. This was something to explore. The proclaimed greatest pilot of his generation, nearly cumming from being called a good boy.

“Don’t….fuck. I’m gonna come,” He confessed, face bright red. No doubt assuming you’d think lesser if he came quickly.

“Excellent,” you rolled your hips, “That’s what I want. You gonna be a good boy for me?”

Jake Seresin would do anything for you.

[callsigns-haze]

What ruined this Christmas so quickly? Lies.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x wife!reader

Summary: Just a few weeks before Christmas all goes downhill. You're left taking care of the kids and leaving work early and now your husbands brings up the topic of moving as soon as possible to San Diego. You're overwhelmed but he's willing to go no matter the lies he told.

Warnings: Mentions of throwing up, mentions of sickness, lies, overwhelmed reader, arguments

Word count: 8.4k

The soft hum of Bradley’s Bronco pulling into the driveway was a familiar sound, one that always made your heart skip. You glanced at the clock on the wall—6:45 PM.

He was home right on time.

The winter sun had already set, leaving the house bathed in the warm glow of lamplight. The faint scent of chicken soup wafted from the kitchen, where you'd left a pot simmering, just in case Judy's cold appetite returned.

Anna was perched on the couch, her tiny legs swinging as she clutched one of her plush animals to her chest. "Daddy's home!" she exclaimed, leaping up and running to the front door with the kind of uncontainable excitement only a four-year-old could manage.

You heard the front door creak open and then Bradley’s voice, deep and familiar, “Where’s my Anna Banana?”

Anna squealed with delight, her laughter echoing through the house as she threw herself into his waiting arms. Bradley lifted her easily, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Did you save me any trouble today, or were you full of mischief as usual?”

“Full of mischief!” Anna giggled, resting her head on his shoulder as he stepped inside and kicked the door shut with his boot.

"Of course you were," he teased with a smirk, glancing at you over her head. “Hey, hot stuff.”

“Hey,” you greeted, a soft smile spreading across your face as you leaned against the archway leading to the living room. “Dinner’s on the stove if you’re hungry.”

“Perfect. I’ll grab a bite after I check on Judy.” He set Anna down gently, ruffling her curls before heading toward the living room, where Judy was sprawled on the couch.

Your oldest was curled up under a blanket, her nose a little red and a tissue box within arm’s reach, vomit bowl to the side. Her favourite Real Madrid hoodie hung loosely on her small frame, the oversized sleeves nearly swallowing her hands. Her eyes lit up, though, when she saw her stepdad walk in.

“Hey, Jude,” Bradley said softly, kneeling beside the couch. It always warmed your heart the way he said her nickname, a perfect blend of affection and playfulness.

“Hi, Roo,” she croaked, her voice raspy from the cold. She reached up to tug on the front of his uniform shirt. “Real Madrid won today. Bellingham scored again.”

Bradley chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. “I heard. Kid’s on fire, huh?”

Judy nodded weakly but managed a small grin. “I told you he’s the best. But he still takes weird pictures sometimes.”

That made Bradley laugh, a deep, warm sound that filled the room. “Weird pictures or not, I think your dad would’ve loved hearing you talk about Real Madrid like this.”

Judy’s face softened, her smile widening slightly at the mention of her biological dad. “You think so?”

“I know so,” he said firmly. “Now, how about we make sure you’re taking care of yourself so you can get better and keep watching him score goals?”

Judy nodded, leaning into his touch as he pressed a kiss to her temple. “Deal.”

From the hallway, Anna peeked in, clearly feeling left out. “Can I sit with Judy, too?”

Bradley turned his head and grinned. “If Judy’s okay with it, sure.”

Judy nodded, patting the spot beside her, and Anna climbed up eagerly, snuggling under the blanket with her big sister. Bradley stood, stretching slightly before heading back to you.

“How’s Theo?” he asked, his voice lowering so he wouldn’t wake the baby.

“Asleep, for now,” you replied, tilting your head toward the baby monitor on the counter. “He went down about thirty minutes ago. Let’s hope it sticks.”

Bradley grinned and leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips. “You’re too good, you know that?”

You laughed softly, brushing a hand along his arm. “Sure. Now, go eat before the soup gets cold.”

As Bradley settled into his chair at the dining table, you brought him a steaming bowl of soup. He murmured a quiet thanks before picking up his spoon, glancing at you as you moved to lean against the counter.

“How was work today?” he asked between bites, his warm brown eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Everything okay with you leaving early?”

You hesitated for just a moment, your hand brushing over the edge of the counter. “It’s fine,” you said casually, offering a small shrug. “Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.”

Bradley frowned slightly, setting his spoon down for a moment. “You sure? That’s, what, the third time this week? Last week you had to take a couple of days off because of Anna, too.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Bradley, it’s no big deal. It’s not like we’re behind on anything. I had everything under control before I left.”

He tilted his head, studying you carefully. “That doesn’t mean you can't call me, you know.”

You pushed off the counter with a small laugh, brushing past him to gather up Anna’s pyjamas from a nearby basket. “I’m fine, Rooster. Seriously. It’s not like I’m doing it alone—you’ve been pulling your weight, too.”

His lips quirked up in a small, understanding smile, but he didn’t push. Instead, he returned to his meal, watching as you disappeared briefly into the living room to remind Anna about her bedtime routine.

“Annabelle,” you called, leaning over the back of the couch. “Fifteen minutes until you’re brushing your teeth. No nap today means an early bedtime, remember?”

“Okay, Mommy,” Anna replied with a sigh, snuggling closer to Judy under the blanket.

“And Judy,” you added, brushing a hand over Judy’s head, “I didn’t forget our deal—you can stay up a little later tonight, but only if you rest here for now, okay?”

Judy nodded with a tired but satisfied smile. “Thanks, Mom.”

You returned to the kitchen just as Bradley finished his bowl, pushing it aside with a satisfied sigh. “That hit the spot,” he said, standing to place the empty dish in the sink.

“Glad you liked it,” you said, leaning against the counter as he moved closer to you.

Bradley turned, placing his hands on either side of your waist, and gave you a thoughtful look. “Once all the kids are down for the night,” he said softly, his voice dipping to that warm, familiar tone he used when something was on his mind, “I’ve got something to tell you.”

Your brows knit together in curiosity. “Oh?”

He smiled, brushing a stray hair out of your face. “Yeah. Nothing bad, I promise. But… let’s get through bedtime first.”

Your lips curved up in a small smile as you leaned into him for a moment. “Alright, Bradshaw. But now you’ve got me wondering.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Patience, sweetheart.”

With that, he turned back toward the living room, his voice playful as he called out to Anna, “Alright, Bananas, let’s get those teeth brushed before your mom tells me I’m slacking.”

Anna’s giggles filled the house as she bolted from the living room, her tiny feet pattering up the stairs as Bradley’s playful growl followed closely behind.

“Anna Banana, you get back here!” he called, his boots thudding against the hardwood as he gave chase. “We’re brushing those teeth whether you like it or not!”

“You can’t catch me, Daddy!” she yelled between bursts of laughter, the sound so joyful it made you smile despite the exhaustion lingering from the day.

Shaking your head, you turned back to the kitchen and grabbed Bradley’s empty bowl from the table, rinsing it under warm water before adding it to the dishwasher. The soup pot still sat on the stove, its comforting aroma hanging in the air. You ladled the leftovers into a container, snapping the lid on before slipping it into the fridge.

Judy wouldn’t be eating any tonight—you knew her appetite was still weak from the cold. You sighed softly as you wiped down the counter, taking a moment to glance toward the baby monitor. Theo was still sound asleep, his soft snores faintly audible through the speaker. At least one of your kids was making bedtime easy tonight.

With the kitchen clean and quiet, you dried your hands and made your way to the living room, where Judy lay nestled under the blanket. Her Real Madrid hoodie was slightly bunched up, and her face was still flushed from her cold, but her eyes brightened when she saw you approaching.

“Hey, Judy bug,” you said gently, sinking down beside her. “You feeling okay?”

She nodded, scooting closer to you. “I’m just tired,” she admitted softly.

“I know,” you said, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into your side. She fit perfectly against you, her small body warm and familiar. “But remember, we made a deal. You’re allowed to stay up a little longer, as long as you take it easy.”

Judy smiled faintly, leaning her head on your shoulder. “Thanks, Mom.”

You pressed a kiss to her temple, brushing some hair away from her face. “Anytime, Judy.”

For a few minutes, the house was quiet except for the distant sound of Bradley trying to wrangle Anna into brushing her teeth. You chuckled under your breath as Judy let out a small laugh.

“Rooster’s not very good at catching Anna,” she murmured, her voice raspy but amused.

“Nope,” you agreed, squeezing her gently. “But he’s trying his best.”

Judy’s giggle was soft but heartfelt, and you cherished the moment, knowing it wouldn’t be long before all three kids were asleep and the house finally settled into peace for the night.

Judy shifted against you as you tucked the blanket tighter around her shoulders, her small hand reaching for the remote on the coffee table. The soft thud of Anna’s bedroom door closing upstairs brought a sense of relief; Bradley had clearly won the bedtime battle. You smiled to yourself, imagining how he’d probably managed to wrangle her into bed with one of his goofy voices or a quick rendition of a lullaby she insisted he sing.

From above, you heard the bathroom door open and the unmistakable sound of the shower turning on. That man earned his fifteen minutes of peace after chasing Anna around.

“What do you say we watch something before bed?” you asked, glancing down at Judy.

Her eyes lit up slightly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Can we watch The Grinch?”

“You’re still in a Christmas mood, huh?” you teased, but you didn’t mind. Judy had always loved the story, and it had become a tradition to watch it at least ten times every December.

She nodded, snuggling closer to your side as you leaned forward to grab the remote. It only took a few clicks before the familiar opening notes of The Grinch filled the room, and the glow of the television bathed the two of you in soft light.

As the movie started, you glanced down at Judy. Her eyes were focused on the screen, though you could tell she wasn’t quite as energetic as usual. Her cold was still zapping her strength, but she looked content, nestled under the blanket and leaning into you for warmth.

The two of you sat quietly, watching as the Grinch made his first grouchy appearance. Judy chuckled faintly at his antics, her laugh muffled by the blanket she’d half-pulled over her face.

Upstairs, you could still hear the shower running, the steady hum of water a comforting backdrop to the cozy moment. It was one of those rare evenings where, despite the chaos of the day, everything felt peaceful—just you and your daughter, sharing a quiet moment together while Bradley unwound upstairs.

You let out a soft sigh of contentment, wrapping your arm a little tighter around Judy. Nights like this, you thought, were what made all the hard days worth it.

As the Grinch grumbled on screen about Christmas cheer, your phone buzzed on the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a call from work. You sighed, glancing at the number. It wasn’t unusual for work to call after hours, but it still pulled you out of the cozy moment with Judy.

Judy turned her head toward you, her brows furrowing. “Mom, do you have to go?” she asked softly, her voice still scratchy from her cold.

You gave her a reassuring smile and smoothed her hair back. “No, bug, I’m not going anywhere. I just need to take this call, okay? Roo will be downstairs in a couple of minutes. Can you hold tight until then?”

She nodded, though she still looked a little disappointed. “Okay.”

You kissed her forehead before standing and grabbing your coat from the rack by the door. Wrapping it around your shoulders, you stepped onto the front porch, the cold night air biting against your skin. The faint scent of pine from the wreath on the door lingered, and you pulled your coat tighter as you tapped to accept the call.

“This is YN,” you answered, your breath puffing in the chilly air.

The person on the other end quickly launched into their reason for calling—some minor crisis involving a data set that had apparently gone haywire. You listened intently, nodding even though they couldn’t see you, while mentally sorting through solutions.

As you paced the porch, the front door opened, and Bradley stepped out, fresh from his shower. His damp hair was tousled, and he’d pulled on a well-worn hoodie and sweatpants. He glanced at you curiously, then stepped back inside, letting the door click shut behind him.

A few moments later, you wrapped up the call, offering quick instructions and assurances that you’d look at the problem first thing in the morning. You hung up and exhaled deeply, allowing the crisp night air to clear your thoughts.

When you stepped back inside, Bradley was in the living room, crouched next to Judy. He’d wrapped an arm around her, his other hand resting on the blanket tucked snugly around her. Judy looked a little brighter already, smiling up at him as she pointed something out on the screen.

Bradley looked up as you closed the door, his warm eyes meeting yours. “Everything okay?” he asked, his voice soft so as not to disturb the moment.

You nodded, offering him a tired smile. “Crisis averted. Thanks for stepping in.”

“Anytime,” he said, patting the spot next to him on the couch. “Come sit. We saved your spot.”

The warmth in his voice and the sight of your little family waiting for you melted the tension from your shoulders. You slipped off your coat, letting it fall onto the back of a chair, and joined them, ready to soak in the rest of the evening.

As the Grinch continued plotting on the screen, you noticed Judy start to rub her eyes. Her head had begun to droop a little, and not long after, she let out a soft yawn.

Bradley, ever observant, caught it instantly. A teasing grin spread across his face as he looked down at her. “Uh-oh,” he said dramatically, “sounds like someone’s ready for bed. What do you think, Judy? Time to head upstairs?”

Judy’s head shot up, her tired eyes narrowing as she frowned at him. “No, it’s not! My bedtime’s 8:30, and it’s only 8!”

“Hmm,” Bradley drawled, tapping his chin in mock contemplation. “I don’t know. That yawn says otherwise.”

“It doesn’t count!” Judy protested, sitting up straighter and fixing him with her best determined glare. “I’m not tired. I can stay up for The Grinch. You promised!”

Bradley chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. You’ve got until 8:30. But if I catch you yawning again, we might have to renegotiate.”

Judy crossed her arms, trying to look serious but failing as a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “You’re so dramatic, Rooster.”

“Me? Dramatic?” he asked, feigning offense. “I’m just concerned about your beauty sleep, Jude. I’m looking out for you.”

Judy rolled her eyes, but you could see the playful affection in her expression. “You’re such a weirdo.”

Bradley laughed, pulling her close and planting a kiss on the top of her head. “That’s me. But you love me anyway.”

She snuggled back against him with a small huff, her earlier defiance fading as she relaxed into his side. You watched the exchange with a smile, your heart full at the sight of their bond.

Bradley caught your gaze and gave you a wink, his hand resting gently on Judy’s shoulder. You could tell he was savouring the moment as much as you were.

Judy had just settled against Bradley’s side, her eyes fluttering back toward the screen, when he lightly placed his hand on her forehead. The smile on his face faded slightly, replaced by a look of concern.

“Hey, Jude,” he said softly, tilting his head to get a better look at her. “You’re feeling a little warm. Are you okay?”

Judy blinked up at him, her brows furrowing as if she hadn’t noticed it herself. “I think so,” she murmured, but then a raspy cough escaped her, and her body tensed.

You immediately perked up, your eyes scanning her face as she began coughing harder. “Judy?” you asked, worry creeping into your tone.

Before she could answer, her hand shot to her mouth, her face paling. Instinct kicked in, and you grabbed the bowl you’d left on the floor beside the couch earlier, knowing her appetite had been off all day.

“Here, sweetie,” you said gently, holding the bowl just in time as Judy leaned forward, the cough turning into a small heave.

Bradley’s arm stayed securely around her, his other hand moving to rub her back as she threw up into the bowl. His voice was soft and steady as he murmured, “It’s okay, Jude. Just breathe, baby girl. We’ve got you.”

You crouched beside them, one hand resting on Judy’s knee as you watched her closely. It didn’t last long, but her little body trembled with the effort, and when she finally leaned back, her face was flushed, and her eyes glassy with exhaustion.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered weakly, her voice barely above a rasp.

“Oh, baby, you have nothing to be sorry for,” you assured her, brushing a hand over her hair as Bradley wiped her mouth gently with the tissue you handed him.

“She’s burning up,” Bradley said quietly, concern etched into his voice as he pressed another hand to her forehead.

You nodded, already moving to grab a cool cloth from the kitchen. “Let’s get her cooled down and check her temperature again,” you said, your mind shifting into problem-solving mode.

Judy leaned heavily against Bradley’s chest, her small frame dwarfed by his protective embrace. “Daddy,” she croaked, her voice barely audible, “I don’t wanna be sick anymore.”

She rarely called him dad, but that was something else.

“I know, Jude,” Bradley said softly, his hand brushing over her hair. “I know. We’re going to take care of you, okay? Just rest for now.”

Judy’s little body eventually gave out from the exhaustion, her head lolling against Bradley’s chest as her breathing evened out into soft snores. You exchanged a quick glance with Bradley, nodding silently toward the stairs.

“I’ll grab the bucket,” you whispered, standing up and heading to the bathroom while he carefully adjusted Judy in his arms.

Bradley lifted her as if she weighed nothing, his large hands supporting her back and legs as he rose from the couch. He cradled her close, his steps slow and deliberate as he started up the stairs, making sure not to jostle her. The soft sound of her breathing mixed with the creak of the floorboards, and it tugged at your heart how small she looked in his arms.

By the time you reached Judy’s room, Bradley was gently laying her down on her bed, taking care to arrange her blankets so she was snug but not too warm. He brushed a hand over her hair, his thumb grazing her forehead again as he sighed quietly.

“She’s still a little warm,” he murmured.

You nodded, setting the bucket beside her bed within easy reach. “I’ll check her temperature again in a couple of hours, just to be sure.”

As you adjusted the bucket, Bradley glanced back at you, his brow furrowed. “She got sick last night too?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I thought it was because she decided to have hot chocolate fifteen minutes before bed. She didn’t even tell me until after she’d already made it.”

Bradley’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I didn’t hear a thing. She got sick, and I didn’t wake up?”

You smirked, placing a hand on your hip as you teased, “Roo, you’d sleep through a literal earthquake.”

He let out a soft chuckle, though there was a flicker of guilt in his expression. “Guess I need to work on that. I hate that you were dealing with this by yourself.”

You shrugged, brushing it off lightly. “It wasn’t too bad. Besides, the real fun was earlier today.”

Bradley straightened, his concern sharpening. “What happened?”

You sighed, leaning against the doorway. “She got sick at school. They called me about an hour after I got to work, so I had to come home early to pick her up. She’s been pretty out of it since. I tried feeding her soup earlier, but that didn’t go well either.”

Bradley exhaled deeply, his hands on his hips as he glanced back at Judy, who was now sound asleep, her face still slightly flushed. “Poor kid,” he murmured, running a hand through his damp hair. “She’s had a rough day.”

“Yeah,” you agreed softly, stepping closer to him. “But at least she’s getting some rest now.”

Bradley nodded, reaching out to give your arm a gentle squeeze. “You’ve been handling all of this like a champ. Seriously, YN.”

You smiled at him, leaning into his touch. “We’re a team, remember? You’ll take the next round if she wakes up again tonight.”

“Deal,” he said with a small smile, his eyes flicking back to Judy one last time before wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

As you walked back downstairs with Bradley, the weight of the evening’s events still hung in the air, but your mind wandered back to his earlier words—I have something to tell you. You gave him a curious look as you both stepped into the kitchen, where he leaned casually against the counter, though there was an unmistakable tension in his posture.

“So,” you said, crossing your arms and leaning against the opposite counter. “What’s this big thing you wanted to talk about?”

Bradley exhaled deeply, rubbing the back of his neck in a way that instantly made you wary. He was stalling. “Alright, don’t freak out,” he started, his eyes flicking to yours. “But there’s a chance we might be moving again… before the end of December.”

You stared at him, utterly floored. “You’re kidding.”

He shook his head, his lips pressing into a tight line. “I wish I was.”

“Bradley,” you said, your voice rising slightly in disbelief, “we’ve only been in this house for three months. Three months! And it’s almost Christmas! How are we supposed to pack up and leave—again?”

He winced at the exasperation in your tone, holding up his hands defensively. “I know, I know. Believe me, I’m not thrilled about the timing either. But I think this might be the last time. I mean it.”

You raised a sceptical eyebrow. “That’s what you said the last two moves. And the time before that.”

He nodded, his jaw tightening. “I know. But this is different. I got a call about going back to Top Gun—to San Diego. They need me there, and they’re offering some stability. A more permanent position, YN. I’d be working with my old crew again, the same people I did the uranium mission with.”

You blinked at him, your mind spinning. “San Diego?” you echoed, trying to process the implications. “Bradley, we’ve moved five times in the last four years because of your job. Every time, it’s been the same story—‘this is the last one, we’ll settle down here.’ How can you be sure this time?”

“I can’t be sure,” he admitted, his voice soft but steady. “But I know how much we’ve been through, and I know what I’m asking isn’t easy. But Top Gun feels like home to me. The team, the work—it’s different there. It’s something I know I can grow with long-term.”

You stared at him, still feeling blindsided. “And you think we can do this in the middle of the holidays? We’d have to uproot the kids—again. Judy’s been sick, and Anna just started getting comfortable here.”

“I know it’s asking a lot,” he said, stepping closer and placing his hands on your arms. “But I think San Diego could be a real chance for us. The base there is more stable, and I wouldn’t be deploying as much. I’d be home more—for you, for the kids.”

Your shoulders sagged as you took in his words. You wanted to believe him, but the exhaustion of endless moves, the packing, unpacking, and constant uncertainty weighed heavily on you.

“And this is all happening before the end of December?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

Bradley nodded, his expression apologetic. “There’s still a lot to figure out, but yeah. They need me soon. I just… I wanted to talk to you about it first. I wouldn’t make this decision without you.”

You let out a long breath, running a hand through your hair. “Bradley, this is a lot. I don’t even know where to start.”

He nodded again, squeezing your arms gently. “I know it is. Take some time to think about it, okay? We’ll figure it out together.”

You bit your lip, your thoughts still racing, but you couldn’t ignore the sincerity in his eyes—or the hope. Despite the upheaval it would cause, he truly believed this could be the fresh start you both needed. But whether or not you were ready to believe that too, you weren’t so sure.

You stared at Bradley, the frustration rising in your chest as the weight of his words truly sank in. Shaking your head, you stepped back from his grasp and crossed your arms tightly.

“Bradley, I’m going to say this right now—I’m not moving until after New Year’s,” you said firmly, your voice steady but resolute. “I refuse to spend Christmas in some lousy halfway spot, surrounded by boxes, trying to keep the kids from falling apart. It’s not happening.”

His brows furrowed, and he opened his mouth to respond, but you kept going, your emotions spilling out in waves.

“This constant moving isn’t just exhausting—it’s unhealthy for the kids. Anna’s finally settling in here. She’s starting to make friends, and she’s getting used to the house. Judy’s already switched schools enough for a lifetime. It’s not fair to her to have to keep doing this over and over. She’s nine, Bradley! I thought mine and her fathers job at the start would make her need to move so much but truly it didn't. She needs stability, not a new classroom every year.”

He sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly as he tried to meet your gaze. “I know it’s hard, YN—”

“No,” you interrupted, holding up a hand. “You don’t know how hard it is, Bradley. You’re not the one managing school forms, paediatricians, or trying to help Judy settle in after every single move. You’re not the one cleaning up puke when she gets so stressed she makes herself sick. And on top of that, I have my own job to think about. Do you have any idea how much of a nightmare it is to move space labs? Or how hard it is to get rehired in the same field every time we relocate? What if they don’t even take me this time?”

He frowned, guilt flickering in his expression. “I didn’t think—”

“That’s the problem, Bradley,” you said, your voice softening but still firm. “You didn’t think. You’re chasing stability for yourself, and I get that. I do. But what about us? What about the kids? What about me?”

Bradley ran a hand down his face, clearly grappling with your words. “I thought this would be a good opportunity for all of us,” he admitted quietly. “I thought… maybe it could finally be the place where we can put down roots.”

You let out a shaky breath, willing yourself to stay calm. “If you want to go, fine. Go set things up. But I’m not uprooting this family in the middle of the holidays. The kids deserve a Christmas in a real home, not in a house we haven’t even unpacked yet. And I’m not putting them—or myself—through another rushed move until we know this is going to work.”

He nodded slowly, his jaw tightening as he absorbed your words. “Okay,” he said finally, his voice low. “We’ll wait until after New Year’s. I’ll talk to them, figure out a timeline that works.”

Relief washed over you, though it was tempered by the uncertainty still lingering in the air. You reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly. “I need you to understand, Bradley. This isn’t just about you anymore. It’s all of us. And I can’t keep putting the kids—and myself—through this. And I will go insane if I'll be in another motel for weeks.”

“I get it,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I do. I just… I want to make this work. For all of us.”

You nodded, your gaze steady. “Then let’s figure it out. But after the holidays.”

Bradley’s arms stayed wrapped around you, but as you rested against him, he gently pulled back, his eyes scanning your face with quiet concern. He tilted his head slightly, his voice soft but pointed.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, his tone both curious and insistent.

You hesitated, your gaze flickering to the floor before meeting his again. You’d been holding back, trying to push through for the sake of the evening, but he clearly wasn’t going to let it slide.

“Honestly?” you said, exhaling deeply. “It’s not fine with me that you’re thinking of leaving so soon—especially after I had to miss work last week. I’ve already taken so much time off between Anna being sick, Judy needing to come home early, and everything else. I’m exhausted, Bradley. I’ve had enough.”

His brow furrowed as he stepped closer, his hands resting lightly on your arms. “Then why didn’t you just say that when I asked earlier?”

You bit your lip, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “Because I wasn’t about to argue in front of Judy and Anna,” you said sharply. “They’ve already been through enough tonight. Judy doesn’t need to hear us going back and forth on top of being sick with cruel stomach décor, and Anna’s finally getting settled. I didn’t want to add more stress.”

Bradley sighed, running a hand through his hair as he took in your words. “I get that,” he said softly. “But, YN, I need you to tell me these things. You don’t have to hold it in just to keep the peace.”

“I know,” you replied, your voice quieter now, “but I’m just… tired, Bradley. I don’t feel like moving again. Not until March at the earliest. I’m not ready to pack up, to sort through everything, to start over—again.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes softening as he processed your words. “You feel like you’ve hit your limit,” he said, more a statement than a question.

“Exactly,” you admitted, your shoulders sagging. “I’ve hit my limit. The idea of boxing up this house, pulling the kids out of their routine, and throwing myself into another round of uncertainty—it’s exhausting just thinking about it. I’m not bothered to pack up again right now. I need time.”

Bradley was quiet for a moment, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over your arm as he considered his response. “March,” he repeated, nodding slowly. “Alright. We can make that work. I’ll let them know we need more time.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, meeting his gaze.

“I’m sure,” he said firmly. “I’m not going to push you into something you’re not ready for. If March feels right, then that’s what we’ll aim for.”

Relief washed over you, though a small part of you still felt the weight of what lay ahead. “Thank you,” you murmured.

He pulled you back into his arms, holding you close. “We’ll figure this out,” he promised.

Before you could fully relax into Bradley’s embrace, your phone buzzed again on the counter, cutting through the quiet. You sighed, reluctantly pulling away to check the screen. It was another call from work.

“I should take this,” you muttered, already swiping to answer.

Bradley leaned against the counter, watching you closely as you murmured into the phone, your tone professional but clearly laced with frustration. He caught snippets—something about deadlines, a meeting you couldn’t miss, and some last-minute chaos that had you pinching the bridge of your nose.

When you finally hung up, you turned back to him, running a hand through your hair. “Looks like I’ll be driving down overnight,” you said with a resigned sigh. “I’ve got an early morning meeting anyway, and at this rate, I’ll barely get any sleep if I wait until tomorrow to leave.”

Bradley straightened, his brows knitting together. “Overnight? YN, that’s going to be rough. Are you sure that’s the best idea?”

You shrugged, already mentally planning the drive. “It’s easier this way. I’ll get there before the day starts, and I won’t have to stress about being late.”

He crossed his arms, his concern clear. “I’ve got the day off work tomorrow. I’ll stay here and take care of the kids. You focus on work.”

You blinked at him, a little surprised. “You have the day off?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, stepping closer. “I’ll handle everything here. Judy’s already home sick, so I’ll keep an eye on her and make sure Anna and Theo are good too. You don’t need to worry about anything on this end.”

The tension in your shoulders eased slightly, and you nodded, grateful for his support. “Okay,” you said softly. “Thanks, Bradley.”

He gave you a small smile, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “Just drive safe, alright? And text me when you get there.”

“I will,” you promised, leaning into his touch for a brief moment before pulling back to start gathering your things. As much as you hated the overnight drive, knowing Bradley would hold down the fort at home made it a little easier to handle.

Bradley climbed the stairs quietly, his mind still on your late-night drive and the conversation the two of you had just shared. But as he passed Judy’s room, a soft, raspy voice caught his attention.

“I don’t mind moving,” she said, her tone small but clear.

He stopped in his tracks, leaning slightly toward the open doorway. A grin tugged at the corner of his lips as he stepped inside, spotting Judy sitting up in bed, her blanket pulled up to her chest.

“Well, well,” he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “Sounds to me like someone’s been eavesdropping.”

Judy’s cheeks flushed a little, but she gave him a defiant look, crossing her arms over her blanket. “It’s not eavesdropping, Roo. It’s overhearing. There’s a difference.”

Bradley raised an eyebrow, fighting back a chuckle as he walked over to her bed. “Oh, there’s a difference, huh?” he teased, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. “Pretty sure your mom wouldn’t see it that way. She’d probably have my head if she knew you were listening.”

Judy smiled slyly, leaning back against her pillows. “Good thing she’s not here to find out.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “You’re a smart one, Jude, I’ll give you that. But seriously—what are you doing awake? You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

She shrugged, fiddling with the edge of her blanket. “I just… I heard you guys talking, and I wanted to know what was going on. Are we really moving again?”

Bradley sighed, his teasing expression softening. “It’s a possibility,” he admitted. “But nothing’s set in stone yet. Your mom and I are still figuring things out.”

Judy looked down at her hands, quiet for a moment. “I don’t mind moving,” she said again, her voice softer now. “I mean, I like it here, but… if it makes you and Mom happy, I’ll be okay.”

His heart swelled at her words, and he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair from her face. “You’re a good kid, you know that?”

She smiled shyly, her eyes still on her lap. “I try.”

Bradley leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “Now get some sleep, okay? And no more overhearing—or eavesdropping—or whatever you want to call it.”

“Fine,” she murmured, already snuggling back into her blanket. “Goodnight, Dad.”

“Goodnight, Judy,” he said softly, standing and turning off her bedside lamp before heading to the door. As he glanced back, she was already drifting off, her little body relaxed and peaceful.

Bradley stepped quietly into Theo’s room, the soft glow of the nightlight casting a warm hue over the small space. Theo was curled up in his crib, his chest rising and falling in the rhythmic breaths of deep sleep.

Bradley leaned over the crib, brushing his fingers lightly over Theo’s soft hair. Despite his hesitation, he decided it might be best to have him closer tonight, especially with you driving through the night. Carefully, he slipped his arms under Theo and lifted him, cradling the boy against his chest. Theo stirred slightly but didn’t wake, settling back into his father’s embrace with a soft sigh.

Bradley carried him down the hallway to your shared bedroom. The portable baby mattress was already set up near the bed, and he gently placed Theo down, adjusting the blankets around him. The little boy stretched briefly, then fell back into his peaceful sleep.

Bradley crouched for a moment, watching him, his expression soft with affection. He reached out, tucking the blanket a little more securely before standing.

Moving quietly, Bradley made his way to the small desk tucked into the corner of the room. He sat down heavily in the chair, his elbows resting on the desk as he ran a hand down his face. The day—and the conversations—were catching up with him.

As Bradley sat at the small desk, the quiet hum of the house surrounding him, he pulled out his phone. The group chat with the Dagger Squad lit up with unread messages, the notifications buzzing intermittently.

Payback: So, Rooster, you coming back after New Year’s or what?

Coyote: Yeah, man, don’t leave us hanging. You know Hangman’s already bragging about how he’ll outfly all of us again.

Hangman: Correction, Coyote. I will outfly you all. Don’t need Rooster to confirm that. But hey, Rooster, don’t be scared now—you coming or not?

Bob: It’d be good to have you back, Rooster.

Fanboy: Yeah, you’re part of the team, man. We’re counting on you to bring the mustache magic.

Bradley smirked, shaking his head at their banter. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, debating how to respond.

Phoenix: Give him a break, guys. He’ll let us know when he can.

He hesitated. Phoenix was the only one who knew about his life outside the Navy—his wife, his kids, the constant balancing act he’d been navigating. He hadn’t told the others, not because he didn’t trust them, but because it never felt like the right time. Now, with their texts pressing him for a commitment, the weight of his promise to you settled heavily on his shoulders.

He’d agreed to wait until after the New Year to move the family, but they didn’t need to know that. If he got sent to Top Gun temporarily for a few days, it wouldn’t disrupt the plan too much—would it? He could handle a few days away, fulfil the request, and be back before you’d even finished packing the decorations away.

But then again, keeping this from you didn’t sit right with him. His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he considered his reply.

Rooster: I’ll let you guys know soon. Still working a few things out on my end.

The responses came quickly.

Coyote: Come on, man, you know you wanna fly with the big boys again.

Hangman: “Working things out” sounds like code for chicken. You scared, Rooster?

Fanboy: Ignore him. We’re looking forward to having you back.

Bradley stared at the screen, his mind torn. He knew how much they wanted him back—and if he was honest, he missed flying with them, too. But you had made your stance clear. You didn’t want the chaos of a rushed move or the disruption to your family’s routine, and he couldn’t ignore how much you’d already sacrificed for his career.

The only one who truly understood the bind he was in was Phoenix, and as if on cue, another message from her popped up in the group chat.

Phoenix: Don’t rush it, Rooster. We’ve got time.

Bradley sighed, grateful for her subtle support. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation when the time came to tell you he’d been sent down for even a short stint. For now, though, he tucked the phone away, deciding to deal with it when—and if—it became official.

-

As you parked your car outside the lab, the faint buzz of your phone caught your attention. You glanced at the screen, seeing a text from Bradley pop up.

Rooster: Hey, just got an email—orders came through. I have to head back to Top Gun the day after New Year’s. Just for a few days to test some equipment.

You frowned, your fingers lingering over the steering wheel. He’d softened the blow, but the sting of his words remained. After all the back and forth, the long conversations, and the arguments about waiting until the New Year to avoid uprooting everything again, this felt like a sudden change. Still, you trusted him—if it was orders, there wasn’t much he could do.

A follow-up text arrived moments later.

Rooster: How was the drive? Everything okay? All the kids are down for the night. Theo didn’t even wake up when I brought him to our room. Judy’s still coughing a little but sound asleep. Let me know when you get a moment.

You sighed, the tension from the late-night drive mingling with the unresolved frustration of the past few days. Pushing it aside for now, you texted back quickly.

You: Drive was fine. Thanks for holding down the fort. I’ll call you in a minute.

Pulling your coat tighter, you stepped outside the car and dialled him. The phone rang twice before his familiar voice answered.

“Hey,” Bradley greeted, his tone warm but careful. “How’s it going? You get there okay?”

“I’m fine,” you replied, your voice steady. “Just parked. You said you got orders?”

There was a pause, just a fraction too long to go unnoticed, but he recovered quickly. “Yeah, it came through just a little while ago. Email straight from command,” he said, keeping his tone light. “It’s not a big deal, just a quick trip to test some new equipment. A few days, tops.”

You pressed your lips together, glancing up at the dimly lit lab building. “Funny how that just popped up, considering we were arguing about moving a couple of hours ago.”

He sighed, the sound crackling faintly through the line. “I know the timing sucks, but this isn’t about the move. It’s just work. You know how it is—they send orders, I follow them. It’s out of my hands.”

You leaned against the car, the cold seeping through your coat. “And it couldn’t wait until after we decided?”

“Apparently not,” he replied, his tone still soft. “They want it done now to prep for upcoming missions. It’s not permanent, YN. Just a few days, and then I’ll be back.”

Your fingers tightened around the phone. His explanation was logical, but a part of you still bristled. “It just feels sudden, that’s all,” you admitted. “After everything we talked about, it feels like the Navy’s always pulling the rug out from under us.”

“I get it,” he said gently. “I really do. But I promise I’ll make it as smooth as possible for you and the kids. And hey, once it’s done, we can refocus on everything here. I’ll help with the packing, with the kids—whatever you need.”

You exhaled slowly, the initial frustration easing slightly. “Alright,” you said finally. “If it’s orders, it’s orders. Just… don’t keep me in the dark about anything else, okay?”

“I won’t,” Bradley said quickly. “Promise.”

“Okay,” you murmured, glancing toward the building. “I should head in. Thanks for calling to let me know.”

“No problem,” he replied, his voice warm again. “Drive safe when you head back, alright? And don’t work too hard.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said with a faint smile before ending the call.

As you walked into the lab, a flicker of doubt lingered in the back of your mind, but you pushed it aside. He wouldn’t lie about something like this—or so you believed.

-

Bradley sat back in the chair at his small desk, the glow of his phone screen casting a faint light across the darkened room. The group chat with the Dagger Squad had gone quiet for now, but his mind was racing. He hated lying to you, especially after the hard conversations you’d had tonight, but what unsettled him more was the creeping realization of how deep this would go.

A soft creak at the door pulled his attention, and he looked up to see Anna standing there, her favourite blankie draped over her shoulder and her teddy bear clutched tightly in her small hands.

“Daddy?” she whispered, her voice soft and sleepy.

Bradley immediately put his phone down, his heart squeezing at the sight of her. “Hey, Anna Banana. What’s wrong, baby girl?”

She padded over to him, her bare feet barely making a sound on the floor. “I had a bad dream,” she said, her bottom lip sticking out just a little as she rubbed her eyes.

“Come here,” Bradley said gently, holding out his arms. Anna climbed onto his lap without hesitation, curling against his chest as he wrapped his arms securely around her. Her blanket and teddy got squished between them, but she didn’t seem to mind.

He swayed gently in the chair, rubbing her back. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re safe. It was just a dream.”

Anna nodded sleepily, her head resting against his shoulder. “Are you going away again, Daddy?” she asked suddenly, her voice muffled.

The question hit him like a punch to the gut. He swallowed hard, guilt twisting in his chest. “Yeah,” he said softly, his voice thick. “But only for a little while, baby. Just a few days. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Anna pulled back just enough to look at him, her big, earnest eyes shining in the dim light. “But why? I don’t like when you go away.”

Bradley forced a small smile, brushing a strand of her hair out of her face. “I know, Banana. I don’t like leaving you either. But it’s part of my job, and I promise I’ll be home really soon.”

“Promise?” she whispered, holding up her pinky.

He hesitated for only a second before linking his pinky with hers. “Promise.”

Anna seemed satisfied with that, her little hand relaxing as she tucked herself back against his chest. He held her close, guilt gnawing at him. He hated that he was lying to her, too—that he wasn’t going because of orders but because of his own decision to go back to Top Gun for reasons he hadn’t fully shared.

Her small breaths began to even out, and Bradley knew she was falling back asleep. He carried her to the bed you both kept in your room for when the kids had restless nights, tucking her in with her blankie and teddy. She didn’t stir as he pulled the covers up around her.

As he returned to his desk, he stared down at his phone, the unanswered questions and unspoken truths weighing heavily on him. For a moment, he considered calling you again—coming clean about everything—but the fear of how you’d react kept his finger from pressing the button.

Bradley sat back down at his desk, the soft glow of his phone screen illuminating his conflicted expression. He glanced over his shoulder at Anna, curled up peacefully with her blankie and teddy in the bed. Her tiny chest rose and fell in a soothing rhythm, but the weight in his own chest didn’t lift.

He turned his gaze back to the group chat with the Dagger Squad, their earlier messages still sitting there, waiting for his response. He could hear their voices in his head—Payback's good-natured ribbing, Hangman’s cocky taunts, Phoenix’s steady, knowing tone.

His thumb hovered over the keyboard, hesitation coursing through him. You trusted him. Anna trusted him. But here he was, about to step back into the world he thought he’d left behind for good.

With a deep breath, he began typing.

Rooster: I’ll be there.

The replies were immediate, the chat lighting up in a flurry of responses.

Coyote: Knew you couldn’t resist!

Payback: Finally, the squad’s back together.

Hangman: About time, Bradshaw. I was starting to think you’d gone soft.

Phoenix: Good to have you back, Rooster.

Bradley leaned back in his chair, letting their messages blur together. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt as he reread his text. He hadn’t even said it out loud yet, but sending that message felt like crossing a line he couldn’t uncross.

He locked his phone and rubbed his hands over his face, the quiet of the room pressing down on him. This decision wasn’t just about him—it was about you, the kids, the life you’d built together. And yet, here he was, making a choice that might shake the foundation of it all.

For now, he’d focus on the days ahead. He’d handle the fallout later, even if it meant confronting the disappointment in your eyes when you found out.

Part 2

A/n: Maybe this is a mini series concept....

[roosterforme]

Wild Rooster Chase | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley thinks about you more than he should, and his feelings for you run deeper than they ought to. You've never given him an indication that you want to take the teasing touches and playful flirtation to the next level, so he never pressed his luck. When you surprise him by sending a text message that could change everything, he's ready to chase you all over San Diego for some answers.

Warnings: adult language, fluff, angst, drinking

Length: 5700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Banner by @thedroneranger

"What are you ladies doing here?" Bradley asked as you walked in with Halo and Phoenix on either side of you. "Thought tonight was the bachelorette party?"

"The Hard Deck is our first stop of the evening," you informed him as you planted your palm on his chest with a smirk, and he let you push him away from the bar. "We couldn't miss out on letting you guys see how nicely we clean up."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, as if he wasn't actively ogling you in your mini dress and high heels. He'd never been one to hide it, and he'd never been one to check out the other two, either. But that didn't mean he was going to act on it, because he was absolutely convinced this was just a game for you. One that he loved participating in. One that he knew was never going to go anywhere real.

"Yeah," you verified with a laugh. "We look hot."

"An indisputable fact," he whispered as he pretended like you were actually pushing him further out of your way. He'd move wherever you wanted him to, as long as you just kept touching him.

"Shoo," you scolded, looking up at him as your knee bumped his leg. "I need to buy some drinks, and you're in my way."

He covered your hand with his big one and immediately stopped moving. "Nice try, Blaze," he said with a grin as you attempted and failed to get him to budge more. "But I'm definitely buying you all a round for Callie's big night." He tossed his credit card onto the bar and draped one arm around Halo and the other around you before leaning in close to you and whispering, "And you always look nice. Even in your flight suits."

"What can I get for you ladies? And Rooster?" Penny asked, cutting him off just as he had you rolling your eyes. "Wait... he's not going out for Halo's bachelorette night, is he?"

"Absolutely not," you told her, tilting your head to look up at him with a devilish grin that made him a little nervous. His arm was still heavy across your shoulders as you said, "He's just here to buy us three Johnnie Walkers. Blue Label. Neat." 

"What?" His voice was strangled, and his eyes were wide. "That's over a hundred bucks!"

"But it's what we want. Isn't it, ladies?" you asked Halo and Phoenix as you tried not to laugh.

"It is," Halo confirmed. "And I'm the one getting married next weekend." 

When Bradley moaned and nodded at Penny, you gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Rooster. You're the sweetest."

"You mean I'm a sucker," he said, finally releasing both of you. "So where are you headed after this?"

Halo accepted her expensive Scotch as she said, "Cowboy Star for a steak dinner."

Bradley snorted. "Don't forget to take Jake with you," he said, nodding to where the other guys were hanging out near the dart board. 

"No boys allowed," you reminded him. "Especially not since we're taking Halo to Cheetahs after dinner."

"Strippers?" he asked as you picked up your Johnnie Walker. "Looking at hot, naked chicks? Sounds fun. What else?"

"Dancing at Pleasure Town!" Phoenix said, taking the last Scotch and holding it up. You and Halo both tapped your glasses to hers.

"Thanks, Rooster!" you said before taking a sip. He just shook his head as you pressed your lips to the glass, but a few seconds later, he ran his index finger along your arm and leaned a little closer again.

"Hey, you call or text me if you need anything, okay? I'll keep my phone on all night for you girls."

A chill seemed to run through your body, and just the mere thought of you calling him in the middle of the night left his mouth dry with need.

You chewed on your lip and looked up at him. "I'll let you know if I need you."

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

I'll let you know if I need you.

Bradley couldn't stop thinking about that sentence. If you ever told him you needed or even wanted him for anything, he'd be there instantly. He wasn't afraid to admit to himself that he'd had a crush on you from the first day you arrived at Top Gun. He was sure you knew it, too. But there were some things he just didn't want to mess with. Your call sign was Blaze for a reason, after all. Too fucking hot to handle. Too damn enticing to be interested in him.

So he did what he always did on Saturday nights. Found the second cutest girl at the bar and tried his luck. 

It was two hours later and three drinks in with the redhead, and he knew he could probably get as lucky as he wanted to. Her hand was on his thigh, inching closer to the hem of his tropical print shirt, and she was all smiles.

"Let's play something on the jukebox," she told him, and he agreed as he followed after her. To his dismay, she picked your favorite song, and now he was having a bit of a hard time staying focused on the task at hand as she tucked herself against the wall and pulled him closer by his shirt.

"You like this song?" he asked, glancing at the jukebox like he expected you to be standing there. 

She shrugged and said, "Not really. I just pushed some random buttons," with a little giggle. "Now, come here."

Alright, so her lips were soft, and her tongue tasted like bourbon. She placed his hands on her hips, and he gave a little test squeeze which resulted in her tongue in his mouth. But the song was pulling up some other memories of you and him dancing together on New Year's Eve. When he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, it was almost a relief to pull away.

"Hey," she complained, reaching for him as he unlocked his phone. "I'm over here, Rooster."

"Sorry," he muttered, looking at her briefly, but he really wasn't. The text he got was from you. He held up one finger and took a step back as he opened it up. 

Blaze: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

"What the fuck?" Bradley said out loud as his eyes scanned the message again. It was a joke. It had to be. Or else he was reading it wrong? "Holy shit."

When he finally looked up, the redhead was pouting with her arms crossed. He needed another opinion, and he'd already lost interest in her anyway. He held up his phone and asked, "What does this mean?"

He watched her eyes as she read it, and a little crease appeared on her forehead. "It says get a life, jerk." She went walking off toward her friends as Bradley looked around for someone else to help him out. The guys were all playing pool and darts, but he didn't trust them as far as he could throw them anyway.

"Hey, Penny," he called out, cutting off several people who were trying to order drinks. He leaned all the way across the bar top to where she was pouring a martini. "Tell me I'm not losing my mind."

When he held up his phone, she squinted at the screen, and then her eyes went wide as she smiled at him. "I think someone overdid it and finally stated the obvious."

He was sweating now, afraid he was going to get this all wrong. "Like you think this is actually how she feels?"

She laughed and handed off the martini before pouring some wine. "Well, I don't want to speculate on someone else's behalf..."

"Bartenders are supposed to speculate," he told her, ready to climb over the bar and chase her down as she turned away from him to serve the wine. "It's your god given obligation."

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Well, then, merely speculating, I would say that the way the two of you cozy up with each other seems a little more than platonic."

He shook his head. "No, that's probably just me you're reading in the scenario." But she was shaking her head back and forth as well. "It's her, too?" Now she was nodding as she reached for a pint glass. "Like she might actually want to make something happen here?"

"Speculation," Penny told him. "But I think you should find out for sure."

He could call you. He pushed himself away from the bar, found a nice, quieter corner, and he tapped your number in his phone.

'Hi, it's me. I can't answer my phone, probably because I'm flying a seventy million dollar aircraft at the moment. Leave a message.'

"Damn it," he groaned, already thinking about how nice it would be to sling his arm around your shoulders and lean all the way in next time. Let his lips meet yours instead of hitting the brakes like he'd trained himself to do. "Wait!" he said to nobody in particular now that he'd walked away from Penny. "Cowboy Star!"

Bradley had the fortitude to keep his phone out and use the rideshare app he had downloaded. He was definitely not sober enough to do this in the Bronco, and he couldn't stop fantasizing about your song playing on the jukebox while he had your body pressed up against the wall. He needed to get to you and get some questions answered. 

He chose the closest driver in the app, and while he was waiting for Julian in his white Toyota Camry to arrive, he read your text again.

Blaze: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

"Is she so serious right now?" he asked the night air as he waited in the parking lot. "Is she so fucking serious about this? I think about it, too!  A lot!" he practically shouted as he responded to your text.

Blaze, call me back. Are you talking about a kiss on the cheek? Or something more? We need to discuss ASAP.

"Hey, are you Bradley?"

He looked up to see the white Toyota was just sitting there. You had his head so messed up at the moment, he hadn't even noticed it.

"Julian?"

"Yeah, man," the driver replied, and Bradley quickly climbed in the backseat. "You're heading to Cowboy Star?"

"Yeah," he grunted as he buckled his seatbelt.

"I love it there," he said as he pulled out onto the road that ran parallel to the beach. "My wife got me the porterhouse for my birthday."

Bradley stared at his phone screen, hoping you'd write back or call him. "I'm not actually going for dinner. I'm trying to find a girl."

Julian whistled and shook his head. "Man, you should have just stayed at that bar."

He tipped his head back and groaned. "It's a very specific girl. And she's out with some friends for a bachelorette party."

"You know dudes aren't really supposed to go to those things, right?"

Bradley rubbed his free hand across his face and said, "I know, but she sent me this text that is very thought provoking." 

"What's it say?"

He kind of felt like an idiot telling his story to his Uber driver, but he still wasn't sure he was understanding your words correctly. It just didn't make sense. 

"Julian, I am very firmly in the friend zone with this hot girl from work, and tonight she sent me this message: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time."

"Bro," Julian said as he hit the accelerator a little harder. "You're so in, man."

"Am I?" Bradley asked, squeezing his phone and wondering why you weren't calling him back. "Like, this girl is smoking hot. She's cool as hell, too. And we flirt a bit, but it never goes anywhere. And now she's not answering me."

"Just hang on." Julian went a little faster still. "I'll get you there so you can sweep her off her feet."

Bradley hung onto the door handle, not even sure he knew how to sweep you off your feet. What kinds of guys did you usually go for? He'd be lying if he said he never noticed that your last boyfriend kind of looked like him. And in general, you seemed to have a thing for guys with brown hair who were pretty tall. 

"Shit," he grunted, just torturing himself by imagining he could be the one holding your hand and making you laugh. "Are we almost there?"

"Hell yeah, dude. Next block up."

When Julian stopped at to the curb, Bradley lunged out onto the sidewalk as he shouted, "Thank you!"

"Good luck!"

The restaurant was absolutely packed, and even the line to talk to the host was long. After a few seconds, he simply walked to the front and cut everyone else off.

"Hey!" complained the woman who was now behind him as he cleared his throat and addressed the host. 

"Excuse me, but do you know if there are still three hot women here eating dinner together?" he asked the host who gave him a bland look. "They were all in tight little dresses. One was red, one was blue, and one was like a gold color. And one of them was wearing a bachelorette sash!"

"Oh," he replied with a little smirk. "Those three." Bradley didn't appreciate the way his little grin grew as he said, "Hot is certainly the right word to describe them."

"Are they still here?" he asked impatiently, trying to look past him into the dining room now.

"No. They left about an hour ago."

"Fuck," he groaned, pushing away from the podium and storming back outside into the night. He found a spot on the busy sidewalk where he could stand, and he tried to call you again. 

'Hi, it's me. I can't answer my phone, because I'm probably flying a seventy million dollar aircraft at the moment. Leave a message.'

He wanted to scream, but he calmly said, "Blaze, it's Rooster. Call me back." When he hung up, he opened the rideshare app again, and he luckily saw Julian on the map immediately and tapped on his little icon. "Come on, Julian," he muttered, already looking down the street for the trusty Toyota to make its return. "Yes!"

Bradley threw himself into the backseat once again as the driver asked, "That was quick, bro. What happened?"

"They already left for the strip club," he groaned.

"Cheetahs?" Julian asked, tapping at his own phone before he started driving again. "Not gonna pretend I've never been there before."

Bradley tried to call you again, and once again he got to hear your voice tell him you weren't available. "I just don't understand why she's telling me this now, you know? I've known her for almost two years."

"Two years in the friend zone? Bro, do you have no game?"

"Julian, do not test me right now," Bradley said with a laugh. He held up his thumb and index finger and added, "I was this close to sealing the deal with another girl at the Hard Deck when I got the text from her."

"Ohhhh. So you're in love with her. Understood, my man."

Bradley sat back against the seat and stared out the window as the city lights streaked past. In love. Was he? You always seemed too perfect to get involved with. But love? Is that why he never pushed for more? 

"Damn," he muttered. "Maybe." Was the fear of crashing and burning what was ultimately holding him back? 

That was when Julian pulled a slick u-turn and coasted into the parking lot of Cheetahs which was advertising fully nude girls. He should have been concerned that suddenly the only girl he wanted to see that way was you. "Thanks, Julian," he said as he hopped out and slammed the door closed.

"You got this!"

Well at least Julian thought he could pull off something impossible tonight.

"Whoa, I'm going to need to see some ID." 

Bradley realized that his path was suddenly blocked by an absolutely massive bouncer with a bushy beard. 

"Come on," he complained, digging his wallet out of his back pocket. "I'm thirty-five."

"No ID, no entrance."

"Yeah, yeah. Understood," he said trying to get his driver's license free as one of the strippers walked outside for a break. He craned his neck to see through the open door as the loud music filtered out before the door closed.

"Hey, Cherry," the bouncer grunted, and Bradley looked down at the stripper who was leaning against the wall wearing a pink wig, the tiniest g-string and some pasties. 

She was looking at Bradley a little skeptically as she replied, "Hey, Murph." She kicked a rock out into the parking lot as she told Bradley, "You're getting here awfully late. All of the private rooms have been reserved for the rest of the night."

"I'm not here for that. I'm just looking for some girls," he replied, waiting patiently while Murph inspected his ID.

"Yeah," she said with a laugh. "We've got plenty of those. The hottest ones in San Diego, if you believe the neon sign above your head."

"No," he told her, really not in the mood to recount his story again. "I'm looking for some women I work with."

Now Cherry looked downright unconvinced as she asked, "Are you a stripper?"

Bradley accepted his driver's license back and gave Cherry a hesitant look. "Well, no, I'm not."

"Didn't think so," she muttered, and Bradley stopped in his tracks before he even reached for the door handle.

"Excuse me?" he asked, giving her a much more scathing look. "What's that supposed to mean? I'd be a fantastic stripper."

She shook her head and adjusted her tiny underwear. "You don't have the right build for it."

Bradley burst out into sardonic laughter. "Cherry, you must be joking," he said as he tucked his wallet away and flexed his biceps. "I could totally be a stripper."

"What song would you dance to?" she asked in an accusatory tone. 

"Sweet Emotion," he told her immediately. Yeah, he'd thought about it before, and yeah, he knew he'd absolutely kill it up on stage. But she just made a face in response. "What's wrong with my song?"

"Nothing, I guess, but there's no way you'd be raking in the tip money."

Bradley pointed across the parking lot to Hard D Boys, the male club that was associated with Cheetahs, and said, "Just for that, I'm coming back for their open auditions night, because you have no idea what you're talking about." She shrugged, and he shook his head. "I don't have time for this. Have you seen three hot women? A red dress, a blue dress and a gold dress? Like short dresses?" he asked, tapping his thigh with his hand to indicate that your dress left little to his imagination. "They are like around this tall?" he added, sticking his hand in the air around your height.

"Sorry, Mr. Sweet Emotion, but I only take note of the biggest tippers."

Bradley groaned and pushed the door open, and the music was so loud, it wasn't even worth trying to ask the bartenders if they'd seen you. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he walked around the cavernous club, trying to locate you three, but it was mostly men. And then he had the disturbing thought that maybe some guys tried to pick you up.

"Why are you doing this to me, Blaze?" he whispered to himself as he walked back through every corner he could find. He even asked a woman to check if you were in the ladies' restroom. He came up empty handed again. 

"God damn it," he said once he was back outside with Murph.

"To be fair," Murph said as he lit up a cigarette, "I think you'd make an okay stripper."

"Thank you for that," Bradley told him sincerely as he tapped his rideshare app again, but then he heard a horn honking and looked up. It was Julian, hanging out his car window. He'd waited for him. 

"She's not here?"

"No, Julian. She's not here!" he said as he rushed toward the Toyota and climbed in.

"Well, where are we going next?"

Bradley closed his eyes and thought about what Phoenix had said earlier at the Hard Deck. "Pleasure Town. They were going dancing at Pleasure Town."

"On it," Julian told him and shifted into drive.

It was after midnight now. Pleasure Town wasn't too far away, but he'd be lucky to even find you in there on the weekend. But if he did, you'd be dancing like crazy with the biggest smile on your face, pretending you liked the music they were playing while you thought about your own playlists instead. You'd be drinking some neon colored cocktail and trying to talk the girls into leaving to get cookies from that place that was open all night. You'd maybe even be checking your phone and finally,��finally texting him back.

"Yeah, you're right, Julian."

"About what, my man?"

Bradley rubbed his hands over his face. "I'm in love with her."

Julian reached his arm back at a red light, and Bradley fist bumped him. "Yeah, that's what I'm talking about! I could tell right away. Don't worry. We'll find her."

But it got harder to be hopeful the longer he was in the dance club. There was barely any room to walk around, and there were dozens of women in little dresses that looked like the one you were wearing, but none of them had your face or your smile. You weren't here. 

He stood on the dance floor and read your text one more time.

Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

He wanted to know what kissing you would feel like. Now that you opened his mind to something more, he'd never be able to stop thinking about it. But this time, he let himself finally focus on the word regret in your message.You'd regret what you said in the morning. He knew you; he knew you would never go for the idea sober. But he texted you one more time anyway.

Blaze, please call me when you get this. It doesn't matter what time it is. Just call.

When he walked back out into the cool, night air, Julian was right there at the curb waiting with a hopeful look on his face. "Bro, is she here?" When Bradley didn't respond, his face melted into sadness. "Or did she say the 'just friends' shit?"

"She's not here," he replied, once again climbing in the back of the now familiar car.

"We going somewhere else now? The pursuit continues?"

Bradley grimaced and said, "I think I should just throw in the towel and regroup. Can you take me back to the Hard Deck? I'm definitely sober enough to drive home now."

But even Julian sounded disappointed now. "Of course, dude. Anything you want."

"Thanks," Bradley grunted, watching as the city lights faded a bit as they got closer to the beach. When Julian parked near the Bronco, he said, "I appreciate all your help tonight."

He gave Bradley another fist bump. "You gotta start fresh tomorrow, man. And you can't leave me hanging, okay? I need a wedding invitation."

Bradley chuckled as he climbed out for the last time. "I'm about to leave you the biggest tip."

He tapped two hundred bucks into the app as Julian drove off shouting, "Good luck!"

With nothing else he could do right now, he climbed in the Bronco, cranked the engine and started to drive himself home for the night. He was tempted to swing by your place or at least try to call you one more time, but he decided to let you get some sleep before you started to regret your message. That way he'd have a little more time with this hopeful feeling in his chest.

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

There was pounding. There was so much pounding. Maybe someone turned the music up even louder at Cheetahs? Or were you at Pleasure Town now? "Make them turn it down," you moaned, trying to cover your ears. That's when you realized you were in your bed. At home. Someone was knocking on your front door.

"Wait," you croaked as loudly as you could, your ears still buzzing from the loud music all night long. The bachelorette evening had been highly successful. Halo had a great time. But now you were hungover and not in the mood to deal with anyone. 

As you climbed out of bed, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand to check the time. The battery was almost dead, and you had a bunch of missed texts and calls, but you couldn't even focus on that until the pounding ceased.

"Please stop," you whined, flinging your door open before you even checked to see who it was. When you saw him it felt like someone poured warm caramel sauce on your heart or shoved you hard into a wall made out of soft foam: he always made you feel good and gooey and squishy in the most heart pounding, confusing way. "Rooster."

When he moved slightly, he stopped blocking the sunlight behind him and you squinted your eyes and groaned as you took a step back. "Blaze," he said in that raspy as sin voice as he blessedly closed your front door behind him. "You have a hangover."

You nodded, but even that was too much. "What gave it away?" you asked him softly, still holding your phone.

He snorted. "Well, for starters, you're still wearing your dress from last night."

"Oh." You hadn't realized that as you looked down at yourself for confirmation. "We went pretty hard. I can't even remember much after you bought us the Johnnie Walker at the Hard Deck."

He remained quiet until you looked back up at his face. "You... remember texting me?" His tone was one you'd never heard before, and it took you a few seconds to realize he was nervous. On edge. Hesitant. He was never any of those things with you, and you didn't like this at all.

"I texted you?" When you lifted your phone higher, you started to wonder why he hadn't hugged you when you opened the door. He usually always did. He swallowed hard, and you watched the scars along his neck as his Adam's apple bobbed.

"You really don't remember?"

Now he just sounded really fucking sad, and for some reason your brain was screaming at you that there was something you were definitely supposed to recall from last night. Something about Bradley. You left him at the Hard Deck after he paid for the Scotch, and then you went to dinner and drank more while you thought about him the whole time. But there was definitely something else.

"No. I really don't remember," you whispered, annoyed with yourself. You felt like it was somehow your fault that his lips were pressed in a tight line and his brow was creased.

"It's not important," he replied, all businesslike now. "Can I see your phone for a minute?"

"Yeah," you told him, handing it over and watching while he punched in your passcode. "What did you end up doing all night?"

He sighed and looked at you. "I ended up following you around to no avail."

"Why?" you asked, still clearly missing a piece of this whole puzzle as he started tapping your phone screen with his thumb. 

"That's not important either," he whispered, and you decided you didn't like any of this. 

You snatched your phone out of his hand and wrapped your arms around his neck. Almost reluctantly, he hugged you back before reaching his hand up to where you were holding your phone, trying to get it again. "What do you want my phone for so badly?"

He was acting strange, and when he said nothing in response, you lunged out of his grasp and tapped on your text thread with him. 

"Blaze," he barked out, but it was too late. You read what you'd sent him last night.

Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

"Oh my god!" you screeched. "I didn't delete that?! I hit send!" You couldn't even meet his eyes now as you tried to figure out how to get him to leave so you could cry in peace.

"Blaze, it's okay," he promised, but you knew it wasn't.

"You were going to delete that message. And the ones you sent to me after it," you accused. "Weren't you?" When he just stared at you silently, you realized he was trying to save you from being embarrassed, but it was way too late for that. He didn't want you. He was never going to want you.

"No hard feelings," he said softly. "Go ahead and delete it yourself. We can pretend this never happened."

"No hard feelings?" you practically wailed, afraid you were going to cry in front of him. "I just ruined everything. You were never supposed to know how I feel about you, Bradley."

As soon as you ducked your head away from him, his fingers were under your chin tipping your face up so you were looking him in his impossibly endearing brown eyes. "I need you to explain this to me. Okay?" He took your phone gently from your hand and held it up with the message displayed. "Please, Blaze. Did you mean it? Is that how you think about me?" When you nodded slightly, he readjusted his hand on your face so he was cupping your cheek instead. "Baby, I followed you everywhere last night. I called you and texted you and rode around in a white Toyota with Julian for hours on end."

"Who's Julian?" you ask softly as Bradley slid your phone into his jeans pocket.

"He's my new friend," he replied, which cleared up exactly nothing for you. "I went on this insane chase from Cowboy Star to Cheetahs to Pleasure Town just to try find out if there was even the slightest chance that you really meant what you said."

He closed the distance between your bodies as he stroked his thumb along your cheek. "It was supposed to be my little secret," you whispered. "I just typed it out to see how it would look. I read it in my head and imagined how you might take it. It was supposed to get deleted. You were never supposed to know."

"Is it really so bad that I do?"

His question hung in the air between you, and once again you nodded. "Yes, Bradley. Yes, because it's going to complicate everything now. Work, and our friends, and hanging out at the bar. It's all ruined. Because you'll never look at me the same way you used to."

"Blaze," he rasped. "Baby, I don't want to look at you the same way I used to. Like I was never going to measure up. Like I could never be what you wanted."

You gasped as your eyes went wide. "What are you saying?"

He groaned and pressed his lips to your forehead, and you melted against him. "I'm saying that I chased you all over the city last night hoping like hell that you meant what you said. And that you didn't regret it."

Your head was spinning, but not from the hangover as you thought about how it could feel to be with this man. "You want this?" you asked in awe as your hands eased up along his chest to slip around his neck again.

"Desperately. And if you think you want to see where it goes, we can take it slow, you know?" he asked, his brown eyes hopeful once again. "We don't have to rush into anything crazy."

But you knew you were already kind of crazy about him. You had been for a long time. So you whispered, "I think I could fall in love with you," and his lips came crashing to yours. You moaned into his mouth. His lips and his mustache were even better than all those times you'd imagined kissing him. His huge hands were bunching up the fabric of your dress at your hips. You wanted every part of your body to be touching him from now until forever.

This was how good it felt when you and he stopped pulling your punches. When you both stopped pumping the brakes. You raked your hands through his wavy hair, gasping for breath as you asked, "Did you really try to find me last night?"

"Of course," he promised as you kissed along his mustache and across his cheek. "It was enlightening. I learned a lot about myself. Hey, do you think I'd be a good stripper?"

"God, Rooster," you groaned just thinking about it. "You'd be an excellent stripper."

"I fucking knew it," he grunted, half guiding you and half carrying you to your bedroom. "Listen, we should cuddle right now, but I'm going to need you to come to Hard D Boys with me one night. I'm pretty sure it's just to prove a point, but you never know."

You really weren't positive what he was talking about now, but it didn't matter. His lips were on your neck, and his weight was pressing you down onto your bed, and he was saying the most wonderful thing.

"I know for sure I could fall in love with you."

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

He's such a simp, he would chase you anywhere. Imagine taking your brand new boyfriend to his stripper audition just because he has to prove a point. I mean, I wouldn't complain lol. Thanks for reading! And thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @thedroneranger

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[sparklypinkflightsuit]

Love To Watch You Leave: Part 7 - Final

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Warnings: Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Swearing, Fluff, Angst, Bullying, Smut, Grieving, Pining, Alcohol, Military Inaccuracies, Knife Injury’s and Attempted Murder

- Part 6 Here -

——————————

18+ Only

——————————




Bradley was only on the floor for a second, before his adrenaline went into overdrive and he stumbled back onto his feet.




When he’d kicked the door open, you were pinned up against the opposite wall, the knife being plunged over and over into your stomach. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you barely clung to consciousness, blood covering Bradley’s bed and walls.




White hot rage boiled through Bradley’s veins and he charged at Angie, knocking her hard into the back wall. The knife clattered to the floor and skidded a few feet out of reach.




Bradley and Angie both dove for the knife, fists and feet flying left and right and all sense of humanity and civility in the world now long behind them.




Bradley didn’t care that this was once someone he sort of cared about, or someone he recently felt sorry for, now she was just someone who was threatening everything he cared about in the world.




He pinned her to the ground with his knee on her back as he scrambled for the knife, but Angie threw all of her weight, which was surprising considering her size, and Bradley flew to the side, landing on his injured shoulder blade.




She grabbed the knife first and climbed on top of Bradley, straddling him with the knife pressed against his neck.




Bradley held his hands up, teeth gritting and nostrils flaring, “You might as well just do it, Angie. I’m never gonna forgive you for this.”




Angie shook her head softly, “We could still try, we could make this beautiful.” She grinned down at him, the knife nicking his already scarred skin.




Bradley carefully turned his head to look at you laying on the floor by the wall, blood covering your hands and stomach.




Tears brimmed to his eyes and he was once again overcome by rage and hatred.




“There will never be a world where me and you are together.”




Angie’s face turned from a grin to a scowl and she screamed, lifting the knife into the air, ready to plunge it into Bradley’s throat. If she couldn’t have him, no one else could.




As the knife lifted from his throat and rose up, Bradley took the split second opportunity to grab her wrist. He used what strength he had in his other arm to push her off of him and onto the floor. He quickly got up and knelt against her, pining her to the floor, the knife now pressed against her neck.




She suddenly changed her tactic and pulled out the puppy dog eyes, eyebrows pulling together, “No, I’m sorry! Im sorry! Don’t kill me, please.”

She cried, squirming for her life underneath him.




“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.” Bradley growled.




“I’m pregnant.” She blurted out.




Bradley eased up ever so slightly on the knife. “You’re lying.”




“No, I really am, I promise. It’s yours Bradley, please, please don’t do this.” She cried.




“Fuck!” He threw the knife across the room and slid off of her, propping himself up against the cold wooden floor, shock now overwhelming him.




Angie lay on the floor trying to catch her breath, “We… we could be a happy family, Brad, don’t you see that?”




“Don’t fucking move or I swear to God I will kill you with my bare hands.” He spat, crawling across the room to you.




You were shaking and awash of any colour now, blood flowing over your fingers as Bradley lifted you into his arms.


“I’m so sorry baby, I’m gonna get help, please just hold on.” He shakily kissed your forehead and lay you down carefully.




Bradley stood on wobbly feet and limped over to the knife.




Pointing it at Angie, he told her to stand and walk in front of him to the living room where he left his phone.




She did as she was told, now having nothing to defend herself with, and Bradley sat her down in front of him as he called 911.




“If she dies, Angie, you’ve ruined my life and I will not let you get away with it.”




Bradley held the knife out and Angie stared back, almost a glint in her eye, neither moved until the flashing blue lights appeared outside.




——————————




- 1 year later -




“I’m thinking either French Blue or Sage Green for the living room, what do you think?” You held up two cans of paint to the light in the hardware store.




Bob chuckled, “Either, both good choices, whatever you prefer, it’s your project anyway.”




You hummed as you considered your options, “Okay, French Blue. Maybe green for the kitchen.”




“Yes ma’am, want me to take those for you?”




“No I got it, thanks.” You grinned.




“Honey, what about these for the garden?” A voice from the next isle over called. Bradley walked around the corner of the isle holding a box of string lights, “I know you love them usually, what do you think?” He asked, stopping in front of you and Bob.




“That’s a great idea, babe. But you’ll need to ask Bob if he can help with that as well, I don’t think I’ll reach.”




Bob shrugged, “I did offer to help with renovations, so use me as you wish.”




You didn’t remember much from the day Angie attacked you, only horrible flashes that often came back to haunt you at night. The last thing you remembered was running into Bradley’s room with the full intent of jumping out of his bedroom window, only Angie was faster than she looked.




She cornered you in Bradley’s room, a dead end and you hadn’t realised that Carole had installed new locks on the windows since the last time you saw teenage Bradley sneaking out of his window at night.




You backed up against the far wall, your hands held out defensively.




“Angie, please don’t do this. It’s not worth it.” You begged.




“The moment I saw you with him I began to plan this, the only reason I didn’t get it over and done with last night is because you said it wasn’t real. If only you had kept your word, Y/N, then none of this would be happening. God, does girl code mean nothing these days?”




The next thing you remember was the hot pain of the knife in your stomach, and again and again, you felt like you’d been punched over and over, the last few feeling like nothing as adrenaline and shock began to set in, the corners of your vision darkening. Just before everything went dark you thought you saw Bradley’s beautiful face but you couldn’t be sure if you were hallucinating.




You woke up 3 weeks and several operations later in hospital, your mom on one side and Bradley on the other.




You were so relieved to see that Bradley was okay, but when he ran you through the details and told you there was a chance he was going to be a father, you were heartbroken.




For days you refused to speak to anyone as you lay in your hospital bed. You had no idea how you’d gotten yourself tied up in this, you’d always swore you’d never go out of your way for a man if it would kill you, and this time it nearly had. You certainly never thought it would be Bradley you’d fall for either.




But Bradley remained by your side, giving you the time you needed but also the support you didn’t know you required.




The surgeries had taken a toll on you and you’d lost a lot of blood, but luckily the knife somehow missed all of your major organs. The day you were finally discharged, you insisted on walking to the truck instead of being wheeled, you were eager to stretch your legs after weeks in bed.




You hadn’t taken into account how weak your legs would be, and not far down the corridor your legs gave out beneath you.




Bradley was quick to catch you, his big strong arms wrapping around you and pulling you into him as you began to sob in frustration. He sat down on the floor with you in his lap, your head nestled in his neck with his chin resting on your head.




“I’m so sorry, for everything… but I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. I’m gonna be here for you, I’m gonna help you, no matter what you need I’m there.” He kissed your head, his hand stroking your hair.




“Why? What could you possibly gain from that?” You sniffled, tilting your head to look up at him with watery eyes.




Bradley chuckled softly as he pressed a long, loving kiss against your lips. He pulled away and stroked your hair from your eyes, “Because I love you.” He stated so confidently. “And when I thought I was gonna lose you, those were the darkest weeks of my life. I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.”




You laughed a wet laugh and kissed him again, “Ditto, Bradshaw.”




A year later, and things were going much better. You’d moved in with Bradley and things were magical. Long gone was the boy that made your life hell, and instead here was the man that made your eyes roll to the back of your head almost daily, who made your heart flutter and was a real life Prince Charming.




You hadn’t realised how grown up he was until you moved in with him, and he would cook you these amazing dinners. He looked good doing it too, and you really loved watching him.




This would mostly end with you tearing his clothes off before dinner was even eaten, and he’d make love to you on the kitchen table.




You loved it when he did gardening, always in his jorts and shirtless, skin glistening in the afternoon sun and he worked away, muscles rippling and sweaty. You would lay reading on your lounger, ice tea in hand, but you would be too distracted to even notice the condensation dripping against the pages of your new book. This would almost always end with you taking his hand and dragging him into the house.




Bradley loved it, you swore he did it on purpose.




The first time you’d had sex had actually been a couple of weeks after you were discharged, Bradley had convinced your mom to let you stay with him, because your mom had to work and Bradley was still off on rest from deployment, so one day you lay on the couch as you watched him put up new shelves for your books.




He wore a tight white t-shirt which threatened to tear as his muscles flexed and bulged.




You suddenly found yourself biting your lip and clenching your thighs as you watched. You almost moaned as he turned to look at you over his shoulder, a screw between his teeth, and he winked at you.




“Brad.” You said softly.




“Hmmm?” He asked, the screwdriver twisting in his hand, the veins on his arms standing out.




“I need you. Like… right now.” You purred.




He immediately dropped the screw driver on the shelf and turned around. “Like… need me, need me?”




You nodded, biting your lip.




“Are you sure you’re ready?” He asked cautiously as he edged towards you.




“Oh you have no idea…”




The way Bradley made love to you the first time was like nothing else. He gently kissed you all the way down your body, spending extra time on your new scars. He was so careful with you but so sensual, it felt like your body was on fire and your nerves alight.




He really was big, but the stretch was just what you’d hoped for as he slowly ground into you, you had to plant your lips firmly to his neck to stop the noises he was pulling from you.




Those big hands of his made sure no part of you was left unattended for long, and his lips, those soft, full lips, they were secretly your favourite, you couldn’t get enough of them on yours and on your skin.




You were definitely fully head over heels for Bradley at this point, so just shy of 8 months later, when Angie had her baby in prison, you had decided you would support Bradley no matter what the results of the paternity test were.




You paced the living room as you waited impatiently for Bradley to get home. When he walked through the door, you stood and looked at him in silent anticipation.




“I’m… I’m not a dad.” He sighed in relief, and you exclaimed, jumping into his arms.




This meant you would never have to visit Angie in prison for the sake of their child, although you did feel badly for the new born baby boy, and what this meant for him.




“They did find the real father, he’ll be okay.” Bradley said, reading your mind.




You sighed in relief as you nodded.




You and Bradley were living together fully now, you’d moved all your things over from next door, and Bradley had said to decorate the house how you wanted, as it hadn’t been updated since he was a child.




Bob had offered some assistance, you, him and Bradley now close friends, and you’d dragged them to the hardware store that day to pick out paint colours.




You loaded the Bronco with your decoration haul and Bradley drove the three of you back, dropping Bob home to change into some overalls, he’d promised to be back later to start painting.




You excitedly hopped up the front porch, keen to drop the paints off and pop in to see how your mom was doing.




“You sure you don’t mind the colours I’ve picked?” You asked as you fiddled with the front door keys, Bradley’s arms wrapping around you from behind.




“No, you did a great job. You could paint the whole house yellow and I’d just be happy if you were happy.” He hummed, kissing the shell of your ear.




“You soppy thing, you.” You chuckled, opening the door.




A pile of post lay on the floor and you bent down to pick it up, looking through the envelopes.




“This one’s for you.” You handed him a big yellow envelope.




His face fell slightly as he took it, and his jaw visibly clenched while he opened it and read the document enclosed.




“You okay? What is it?” You stood in front of him, nervously waiting.




He looked up from the document and sighed, “They’re my deployment papers.”




“When do you leave?” Your happy mood suddenly deflating massively. You knew it was coming, he was given a good deal of leave, so it had to be any day now.




“2 weeks Thursday.”




You nodded, forcing a smile, “It’ll be okay, once you get back the house will be done and I’ll be right here waiting, promise.”




You’d keep your promise, just like you would countless other times in the future when he’d leave. You’d always be waiting excitedly when we returned, relieved he was safe.




The day came and you stood anxiously on the docks, your dress flowing in the breeze as Bradley unloaded his duffle bag from the truck.




He placed it on the floor and rounded the side of the truck to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and kissing the top of your head softly.




“Gonna miss you, kid.” He mumbled into your hair.




You pulled back slightly to look at him, your hand stroking his cheek in adoration, “I’ll be right here, just come back safely.”




Bradley nodded and pressed his lips to yours for a long moment, savouring the feeling while he could. He pulled back and rested his forehead to yours as he sighed, “I love you, you know that right?”




“Of course I do. I love you right back.” You grinned.




Bradley picked up his bag and blew you a kiss as he began to walk away. You leaned against the truck as you watched him.




“Hey Bradshaw!” You called out, and Bradley turned, a huge grin on his face as he looked at you with a full heart.




You chuckled, enjoying the cheeky look on his face once more, “I really hate to see you go… but I love to watch you leave.”




——————————

The End.

Taglist:

@dizzybee03 @cheyrenee @flowery-mess @wildxwidow @residentb1tch @championemmie @mycrofthomlesumbrella @sydneejean @milegonzalez96 @minnie-rae

[sometimesanalice]

Are You Gonna Be My Girl?

Summary: It’s been a couple of months since the two of you have started hooking up, and it’s no secret that Rooster is hung up on you. He takes the gamble and invites you to the yearly Halloween bash at the Hard Deck. The only problem is he can’t figure out what the hell you’re supposed to be. 

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 6.2K

Warnings: allusions to smut and Rooster being a simp (but what else is new 😂) (mdni)

The Black Keys’ “Howlin’ for You” playing loudly over the static-y speakers of the Hard Deck masking the sound of Rooster’s fingers as he impatiently drums them on top of the worn table, uncaring of the fact he’s out of tempo with the song.

Penny’s yearly Halloween Spooktacular has always been a fan favorite with those stationed at North Island. A name that Amelia had thrown shade at no less than five times as she worked on designing the event flier the afternoon that the Daggers had been bribed with free beers for coming in on their free time to help decorate.

There wasn’t an inch of the bar that was left untouched, and it wasn’t just that Bob had gotten carried away with the downy spider webbing. There were orange and purple string lights threaded around the circular mug racks, floating candles over the pool table, dangling bats and streamers, and an enthusiastic but poorly executed attempt at a balloon arch over the entry door.

The wispy fog covered punchbowl with a suspicious dark purple beverage bubbled away on the bartop, tendrils cascaded over the side only adding to the atmosphere. The stuff was so potent that Bradley was pretty sure it would put the jungle juice he’d thrown back in college to shame.

Rooster had been tasked with curating the playlist for tonight’s party, and if he’d been paying even a little bit of attention, he’d have known his choices were being well received by the boisterous crowd. But his attention is half split trying to listen to Hangman’s story about the Halloween prank gone wrong that left him with twelve stitches and half listening for-

Ding

He’s quick on the draw to pull out his phone from the chest pocket to check if it was his that went off.

When he’d arrived Nat, decked out in a sequined pink gown with a gun he wasn’t sure was fake or not strapped to her thigh for her Miss Congeniality costume, had given him a look of disdain and said what he was wearing was low effort even for him.

Rooster tucks his phone away with a disappointed sigh when there are zero new notifications on his lock screen.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you so whipped over a girl before, Bradshaw,” Hangman drawls, leaning into the gunslinging cowboy thing he has going on for the evening. His shirt is unbuttoned more than is strictly necessary, and is complete with a belt buckle that is larger than the state of Texas and too heavy looking to have been bought off Amazon.

Ding

Bradley fishes out his phone again from the pocket he’d put it back in only moments earlier.

You, 10:32pm: “u up?”

He grins.

“And we’ve lost him,” someone snarks, but he’s too busy punching in the password to unlock his phone to care.

Bradley Bradshaw, 10:32pm: are you ever going to let that go?

You, 10:32pm: Mmm, no. You were so bad at being a fuckboy, it was funny.

You, 10:33pm: But in a very hot way, might I add. And clearly, it worked in your favor since I let you come over and hit it a second time.

Rooster snorts in amusement.

It was the first and last time he’d taken Fanboy’s advice and you teased him about it every opportunity you got. He had been a little rusty with the ins and outs of no-strings-attached sex with someone who wasn’t in the Navy. But he’d more than made up for it that same night by eating you out until your legs were shaking and you were weakly pushing his head away as he’d coaxed you into coming just one more time against his tongue.

Bradley Bradshaw, 10:33pm: don’t remember hearing you laughing last night when your pussy was dripping all over my cock

He takes a sip of beer as he waits for your response.

You, 10:33pm: Look! You’re already so much better at sexting than you were when we met!

You, 10:34pm: “u up?” is still on the table, by the way. Not to brag, but I even have a pumpkin shaped pizza. 

You, 10:34pm: If you want to come over. 

If you want to come over. He shakes his head reading the text again.

As if he’d ever pass up on getting to spend time with you.

As if Rooster hadn’t been hooked on you since the moment he’d met you.

𝗧𝗪𝗢 𝗠𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗛𝗦 𝗔𝗚𝗢

As a general rule, Bradley hated grocery shopping.

He’s never had the patience for it, with the way that everyone is in their own world. He gets tired of always having to weave around people and the way that there always seems to be carelessly parked carts or people catching up standing between him and the items on his list.

Which is why when he noticed the parking lot was mostly empty on his way home, he decided to stop and spare himself the headache of doing it over the weekend when everyone else was out and just get it done.

He’d expected to be in and out in record time until the uniform lines of colorful cartons of ice cream caught his attention as he was tossing in a few bags of frozen chicken into his cart. Normally it was always so crowded that he never felt like he could take his time looking without being in someone’s way, that he’d skip it entirely and later try to convince himself that his Greek yogurt was just as good. But tonight since no one was around, he was taking his time.

Under the glare of the fluorescents, he stands there with the hum of the freezers competing with the too-twangy-for-his-taste country song playing over the speakers and debating his options when he feels an arm thread around his own, surprising him out of the pros and cons list he was making in his head between the healthier low-calorie choice versus the one he actually wanted.

“Hi, hello there.” Bradley glances over to see the prettiest pair of eyes looking up at him expectantly. “Do you mind playing along for a few minutes, there’s some creep who keeps trying to bother me.”

He looks over the top of your head to see some guy lingering at the end of the aisle. “The guy who looks like off-brand John Mayer?”

You scrunch your nose up. “That’d be the one.”

“How good are you at picking out ice cream flavors?” he asks, standing up straighter and pulling his shoulders back.

You blink at him in confusion before your lips tick up in a relieved smile. “Very good, as a matter of fact.”

“Great, you came to my rescue just in time.” Bradley guides you closer until you’re in front of him, lightly resting a hand on your hip the way he would if you were his girlfriend. “Is this ok?” he asks under his breath, only loud enough for you to hear.

When you nod, he feels the knot in his chest loosen. Because while he wants this to be convincing to the guy still loitering at the edge of the aisle, he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

“First things first, we need to establish a baseline.” You point at the carton covered in cartoony looking chocolate chip cookies. “What’s your opinion on cookie dough?”

“Overrated,” he answers, not missing a beat. “I’d rather just eat the stuff out of a tube instead.”

You lean back into him a bit more. “Ooh, tough crowd,” you tease, your head finding his shoulder. “Ok then, mister tempting-fate-with-salmonella, what’s your stance on the great vanilla bean vs French vanilla debate?”

Bradley takes a quick look around to make sure they’re not blocking any other late night grocery shoppers. He pretends to ponder for a moment before responding, “I like the one with flecks.”

“A dignified choice.” You say it so solemnly that he can’t help but chuckle.

The easy back and forth banter goes on for a few more minutes. Sometimes you rib him about his answers and other times agree. It shouldn’t be so fun standing there in front of the cooler filled with tubs of ice cream, but it is. It was the last thing he could have expected when he’d decided to stop in at the last minute on his way home after hitting up the Hard Deck.

When he tells you the two choices he had been contemplating before you’d come up to him, you hum contemplatively and tap a finger against your cheek, “Well this changes everything if you’re dairy free.”

“Nah, just watching my figure. The containers are smaller and I have a sweet tooth.”

“Respectfully, I don’t think that’s something you need to worry about. You fill out those khakis just fine, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“I don’t mind at all.” Rooster wonders if you can hear his self-satisfied grin. “Not every day I get a pretty girl telling me she was checking out my ass.”

You let out a small, amused scoff and all he feels is pleased with himself.

“I was not checking out your- oh.” The surprise in your voice has him leaning back enough to get a look at your face. “Wait, is he gone?” You peer around his shoulder, but don’t make a move to pull away from the gentle hold he has on you.

“He left around the time you were giving a very impassioned speech about how overlooked spumoni is. I probably should have mentioned it sooner, but you were making a pretty compelling case and I didn’t want to interrupt,” he says, trying to play it off casually and hoping that he didn’t just become the creep in this story when you tell it to your friends later.

“Oh, ok. That’s, um, that’s good.” You sound almost… disappointed? You take a step towards the case and he drops his arm back down to his side, already missing the feel of you under it. “Thank you so much for committing to the bit. Seriously, I truly appreciate it,” you say over your shoulder, opening the glass door.

He rubs the back of his neck, watching as you grab a carton out of the freezer, not sure whether to move on with the rest of his shopping or not. But when you turn back towards him, he’s hit with the full force of your smile, feeling it all the way to his toes.

“Rocky Road,” you say, setting the carton into his cart. “It has peanuts in it, which is a nutrient-dense food and an excellent plant-based source of protein. There’s collagen from the gelatin in the marshmallows. And chocolate has antioxidants in it and is known to trigger the holy trinity of happy brain chemicals. It’s basically a superfood.”

Rooster grins. “I don’t think it works like that.”

“No, unfortunately, it really doesn’t,” you agree, playfully leaning a hip against his cart. “But it’s more fun this way, don’t you think?”

He’s so fucking charmed by you and he doesn’t even know your name yet.

While he’s glad he was there at the right time and got to play a small part in deterring that guy from continuing to hassle you, he kind of wishes the two of you could have met under different circumstances, because he’d jump at the chance of being able to score a date with you. He sighs and shakes the thought out of his head.

“Would you like me to walk you to your car?” Rooster offers, ready to abandon his groceries for a few extra minutes with you.

“Oh wow.” That mischievous gleam that had been in your eyes changes to something softer. You tilt your head, taking him in with a thoughtful expression on your face. “You’re one of those rare genuinely a gentleman types, aren’t you? Like the kind who always walks closest to the curb and mows their elderly neighbor’s yard without being asked.” Bradley just lifts a shoulder. He’s used to looking out for other people, it’s just something he’s always done. “And they say chivalry is dead,” you muse, contemplatively, “I should let you know though, knock-off John Mayer is my ex.”

He feels his hackles rise up immediately and scans the area again to double check the guy isn’t still hanging around. “Is he harassing you?”

“Oh no, it was only an unfortunate fluke, I promise,” you say, patting his hand that’s gripping the handle of the shopping cart reassuringly. “He’s just a jackass who thought he could cheat on me and that I’d still take him back.” Bradley grunts at that, even more irritated than he was before. “But he was still trying to test the waters, even after I told him I was seeing someone,” you continue, with a roll of your eyes, “Which was technically true- even if I am in fact single right now- because that’s when I saw you over here gazing very intensely into the freezer case like you’d been personally victimized by Ben and Jerry.”

“You’re out of his league anyways,” he rasps. 

There’s no way in hell Bradley would fumble a girl like you.

You grin widely, clearly amused at his annoyance on your behalf. “He was a tool with an overinflated ego and a flat ass.” Rooster barks out a surprised laugh. “And you’re so much hotter than him, so I really lucked out there with you as my knight in ironed  khakis,” you say unabashedly, reaching out to straighten out his already perfectly straight name tag. “You really went above and beyond for your country there helping me win the break up.”

“I don’t think you needed me for that part. It’s pretty clear you came out on top.” His eyes dart down to your hand on the cart, like you forgot it was still resting on top of his. “But I was more than happy to help all the same.” He takes a half step closer into your space, deciding just to go for it. “I’m thinking we should keep up the ruse though, you know, just in case he is lurking by the pasta or something.”

You quirk a knowing eyebrow at him. “Is that so?”

“I could also use your professional opinion on cereal. That is if you still have some more shopping to do,” he suggests, nodding to your mostly empty handbasket.

There’s no question that he’s caught your interest, not with the way you’re looking at him. That smile you’re wearing tells a story of its own. “What a coincidence, that just happens to be my forte.”

“I had a feeling you might be the right girl for the job.” Bradley takes your basket from you and sets it in his cart and gestures for you to lead the way.

He learns your name around the same time he does about your hottake on Frosted Cheerios.

And later that night, his groceries are packed away in your fridge as the container of Rocky Road the two of you were sharing melts on your coffee table- the condensation puddling on the marble surface reflecting the credits rolling across the TV screen- as you ride him on your couch. Your hands tightly fisted in his hair and your breathy whines in his ear urging him to fuck you harder and faster until you come with his name in your mouth.

And in the morning, he gets your number over a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

The two of you have been fooling around for a couple of months now.

On the nights Rooster wasn’t fucking you, he was getting himself off to the thought of you and wishing you were in bed with him. You’ve never been to his place, so he doesn’t even have the bonus of that bright citrus scent of you lingering on his sheets on the nights he spends alone.

The sex was great. Mind-blowing. You were loud and enthusiastic and gave just as good as you got. Bradley found your confidence sexy as hell. You were the type of girl who knew exactly what she wanted and he was always up for the challenge of finding new ways to make your back arch and toes curl.

But he was just as much of a fan of the parts that came before and after getting you spasming around his cock.

He liked the way your mind worked. You were always telling him about something interesting you’d read, because you were naturally curious about the world around you. You asked him thoughtful questions about his job and his life in the Navy, but not in the way he was used to from the tag chasers that frequented the Hard Deck. There was no mistaking you were asking because you wanted to know more about him, and not fixated on the shiny sheen of his golden aviator wings.

Rooster has never laughed as much as he has with you. In those moments between catching your sighs with his mouth and waiting for the knock on the door for whatever late-night craving was being delivered, you’d have him laughing and grinning until his cheeks ached.

The closest he’s ever gotten to taking you on a proper date was that one late night drive-thru run when everything on delivery apps were closed. You’d looked like his favorite daydream sitting there under the glow of the streetlamp in the nearly empty parking lot in a shirt of his that he must have accidently left behind after a hook up.

That night was the most real it’s ever felt. And he wanted more nights just like that.

He liked the way you always seemed to have a documentary to recommend for any given topic, he has a list on his phone and has been working his way through them. He liked the way the glasses you wore sometimes seemed slightly too big for your face because it was cute the way you’d constantly push them back up your nose. He liked that you texted in full sentences with complete and proper punctuation.

Bradley could already imagine how tonight would most likely go.

He’d dip out of the party early and come to your place. Your tongue in his mouth and your greedy little hand tugging to get his belt undone before he’d even made it through the door. The two of you going at it until someone has to tap out- which he is smug in the fact that more often than not it’s usually you- now that he knows all the best ways to pull orgasm after orgasm out of you. Sometimes the two of you order in, and other nights you’ll pass a bowl of ice cream or cereal back and forth over the island in your kitchen where he gets to hear you laugh and tease him and tell him about your day. Then do it all over again and once you’re thoroughly spent, he’ll hold you as you fall asleep. And then in the morning he’ll press a kiss to your cheek and take one more look back at you before leaving through the same door he’d shown up at only hours before.

And that was fine for now, but he wanted more of you. He didn’t want to be just a casual hook up, he wanted to date you.

He wanted to be soft launched and hard launched, or whatever it was that Mickey was talking about that night he’d taken his misguided advice and sent the much teased “u up?” text. He wanted to block people in the chip aisle of the grocery store as you talked him into getting some crazy flavor, turning his least favorite chore into the highlight of his week. He wanted knockoff John Mayer to see he got the girl and knew how to treat her right.

He wanted you to be his girl.

“Aren’t you too old to be in a situationship, Bradshaw?” Jake asks, interrupting his thoughts.

“Fuck off,” Rooster grumbles, his eyebrows furrowed and his thumbs still hovering over the screen. A couple minutes have ticked by since your last text as he sits there stewing. He knocks back the remainder of his beer, it’s mostly foam, “I think I’m gonna head out.”

“No, you’re not. Bob hasn’t even performed the dance routine to “Thriller” yet,” Nat says, pinning him to his stool with a look, “Come on, Bradley, just invite her here.” She reaches overs and squeezes his shoulder. “You’ve been seeing her for a couple months now. You’re clearly into her, and you wouldn’t disappear on us as much as you do if she wasn’t into you too. This is a low stakes environment with everything going on and people off having fun doing their own thing. And the two of you can still go and do whatever you’re going to do after.”

“I don’t know, Phoenix, she might dump him when she sees what he’s wearing at a Navy bar on Halloween,” Hangman drawls, unhelpfully, grinning around that damn toothpick.

“Shut it, Bagman,” they both say simultaneously.

“Just throw it out there and see what she says.” Nat slides out of her seat, the beads on her dress scraping against the edge of the stool. “Now, we’re going to let you panic in peace for a few minutes while we get another round.”

“We’re?” Jake asks slowly, deliberately drawing out the word.

“Yep,” she confirms, the look on her face leaving no room for arguments as she tugs him off his seat. “And you’re paying, let’s go.”

Bradley scrubs a hand over his face, but not before he sees Nat punching Seresin in the arm on their way to the bar.

He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous all of a sudden, he’s never had an issue asking girls out before. Not that he’s ever had to work that hard for it, but still.

His knee bounces on the foot rest as he works out what to say. He types out the message and gives it a quick once over and hits send before he can overthink it.

Bradley Bradshaw, 10:42pm: I’d never say no to you or a pumpkin shaped pizza. But I’m actually at a Halloween party right now at the bar near base with some friends. And I’m thinking you should stop by.

Bradley Bradshaw, 10:42pm: I’m sorry it’s a last minute invite, but it’s always a good time and I think you would have fun. I’d like to see you, if “ur up” for it.

He tries not to dwell on the fact he just double texted you, a thing he didn’t know he should be worried about before Fanboy warned him about doing it.

It’s like he’s been hit by lightning the way he shoots up in his seat when he sees those little dots appear on the screen. Rooster holds his breath when they start and stop a few times, each time they disappear and come back again his heart pounds a little harder in his chest.

You, 10:44pm: I’m all in. What’s the address?

All the bubbles from the beer he’d had earlier swarm and rush to his head at once as he drops you a pin.

Nat pushes a shot of bourbon towards him across the table when they return. “Did it go well?”

He nods. “She’s on her way.”

“Good, because you know Halloween is my favorite holiday and your sulking was bringing the vibe down.”

He chuckles, there’s no way he’s beating those whipped allegations now.

She clinks her own shot with his and they throw them back together, the warmth of the expensive tasting liquor sticks behind his sternum.

The next thirty minutes are the longest of Rooster’s life. His head swings to the front door every time it opens, hoping that it’ll be you outlined by the purple, green, and orange string lights.

When he sees you come through the swiftly deflating balloon arch scanning the bar for him, he almost does a double take.

You’ve got on a black and white polka dot top, the cuffs are a flared ruffle that are tied with a bow at your wrist. Your skirt is plain black, but the way it hugs your hips leaves little to the imagination. He can’t even begin to guess what you’re dressed as because other than the night he met you, it’s the most clothes he’s ever seen you in.

Excluding those little silky matching sets you’re usually wearing when he comes over. But those don’t usually stay on too long before they end up on the floor of your living room. Or bedroom. Or kitchen.

He usually has to leave before you, so he’s usually headed out your front door while you’re still wrapped up in one of those fluffy white towels you have. He’s enjoying seeing you here in his favorite bar in that outfit and heading towards him like you’re just as happy to see him as he is to see you.

“Huh, if I'm not mistaken I’m pretty sure that’s what I sent you into work in this morning,” you say, grinning up at him and lightly tugging on the zipper of his flight suit. “Are you supposed to be a Walk of Shame?”

Bradley wraps an arm around you because he can’t help himself. “Please, we all know it’s called the Stride of Pride. It’s never a shame when I get laid.” He presses his fingertips into the swell of the top of your ass before leaning in close, his lips brushing against your ear, “Plus, I didn’t have time to go home and grab my costume because someone lured me back into bed this morning.”

He had to do 200 extra push-ups and stay behind to do paperwork as penance for being late the third time that week, but it was worth it. But by the time he was finished, the sun was already well on its way to setting. If he’d been a bit more forward thinking he would have brought the costume he had planned with him, instead of thinking he’d have time to swing by his house to change. Bradley didn’t think it was too much of a let down for you, not with the way you’re looking at him. It’s that same heated way that tells him you’re remembering your reaction to it the first time you’d ever seen him in it.

“Sounds like poor planning on your part,” you tease, your finger tracing the edge of his nametag. “I can’t believe you’re wearing your work clothes to a Halloween party, Rooster.”

“Ok, funny girl. Tell me then, what’re you supposed to be?” He takes a step back and gives you a blatant once over, taking his time admiring the shape of you from your head to your toes in some wicked looking heels and back up again.

Maybe if things went well tonight, you’d leave them on for him later when he gets you alone.

“That’s for me to know, and for you to spend the night guessing,” you smirk, the curve of your mouth promising mischief. “But I think you’ll like it once you figure it out.”

“Bradshaw, are you going to introduce us to your sexy librarian?” Hangman hollers, waving the two of you over back to the table with his hat. Bradley doesn’t hear as much as he sees the oof that comes out of the blonde when Phoenix sends an elbow into his side.

Rooster glances at you with a raise of his eyebrow and you shake your head. Not a sexy librarian then.

“I take it you know the rodeo clown?”

He tips his head back and laughs, already looking forward to telling Hangman. “I do. And Gracie Lou Freebush over there too.”

You wave over at Nat, gesturing to her costume and mouth obsessed, before turning back to him to ask, “Is that gun real?”

“I’m too afraid to ask,” he jokes, only half kidding. “C’mon let me get you a drink, I have an in with the bartender.”

“Are you trying to show off for me, Bradley?”

“Definitely.” He reaches out and toys with the end of the bow on your sleeve. “Is it working, Leslie Knope?”

You just send him that devastating smile of yours and thread your fingers through his. “I think I'm going to have so much fun with this tonight.”

“But full disclosure, you see Napoleon Bonaparte?” He points over to where Mav is behind the bar wearing tasseled shoulder pads pouring pints behind the bar next to a bedazzled Penny in a white neoclassical style dress. “That’s my godfather and his fiancée.”

You school the surprise on your face quickly. “Bradley Bradshaw, are you a nepobaby?”

“That’s a story for another time.” He chuckles, carefully winding his way around a Fred Flintstone and a Deviled Egg to the bar. “Be warned though, the Blue Slime Sipper is lethal. I had four last year and put on an a cappella performance of the Ghostbusters theme song.”

“Please tell me someone has a video of that,” you laugh.

“I called in every favor I had to get all evidence of that particular performance erased.”

At the bar, you order two Blue Slime Sippers looking the picture of innocence as you admire the giant spider affixed to the top of the bar by the till, even though he knows better.

One for him and one for you.

He briefly introduces you to Penny and Mav, trying to keep it casual. Thankfully, it’s busy enough that there’s not more time for small talk or jokes about the frosted tips he had when he was thirteen.

Their guess at a modern day I Love Lucy was also met with a no.

But he’s pretty sure Mav’s attempt to stealthily shoot him two thumbs up after you get your neon blue colored drinks fails based on the way your lips are pressed together in an attempt to smother the smile that he sees toying at the corners of your mouth.

Over the course of the night, it becomes a game that the rest of the team joins in on as he introduces them to the girl he’s been hung up on for weeks.

You help him kick Payback and Fanboy’s asses at the Eyeball Beer Pong that Penny had set up outside on the deck.

“Damn, Lawyer Barbie has an arm,” Fanboy says, the spring of the Slingy Dog costume sagging sadly between him and Payback, watching as you sink another doodled on ping-pong ball into a cup.

“I think we need a rematch,” Payback countered after their loss, “Flight Attendants have great hand-eye coordination, it’s an unfair advantage.”

Both guesses were met with a no.

When you side with Nat over Death Becomes Her as the best, but most underrated, Halloween movie, she throws her hands up in victory, “Thank you! Finally, someone with good taste… Olivia Pope?”

It’s another no, but he’s happy to see how much fun you’re having with his friends.

Between the riotous costume contest voting, and the one-man performance of “Thriller” that Bob puts on, and the pumpkin tic-tac-toe, Rooster has a lot of fun making his own guesses.

Except for the time he offers up Miss Bliss, he nearly chokes on his Cauldron Cooler when you ask him, “Is that a porn thing?”

Which in hindsight, he probably should have specified from the show Saved by the Bell, that he only knew because he’d been into Tiffani Amber Thiessen as a kid, but he doesn’t get to because you’re too busy delightedly laughing at his near spit-take.

He sticks close to your side, an arm slung over your shoulder or around your waist. There’s a moment when he gets worried he might be smothering you, but then you’d lean your head on his shoulder and he figured you were right where you wanted to be.

The two of you step outside when the Monster Mash smashburger contest starts up, the song following you to the sun-bleached wooden deck.

There are less people out here now, a few people are stationed behind the ping-pong table and others are seated on the picnic tables chatting and swapping stories. Most of his friends had stayed inside to cheer on Coyote’s attempt to hold onto his burger eating crown.

It’s the first time all night that he has you on your own, and while he appreciates how welcoming his friends are with wanting to make you feel included and slipping in more than a few jokes at his expense, he’s ready to have you to himself for a while.

But first.

“Are you ever going to tell me what you’re supposed to be?” He runs a finger along the ruffle down the front of your shirt. “I think I’ve lost count of how many failed attempts I’ve made now and It’s starting to take a toll on my ego.”

“How about this, you tell me what you were supposed to be and then I’ll tell you what my costume is,” you offer, playfully.  

You’re still toying with him like a cat does a string and he doesn’t mind a single bit.

He steps in close, winding an arm around your low back pulling you in close. “James Bond,” he says, enjoying the way your eyes light up.

“Now that’s something I would love to see,” you murmur, running your hand along his arm. “Not that the flight suit isn’t working for me.” He grins smug because he knows exactly how much this flight suit works for you.

Rooster shakes his head amused. “I’ll put it on for you later if you want.” He grins smug because he knows exactly how much this flight suit works for you, but you haven’t seen him in a tux yet. “Now, I’ve been dying to know since the moment you walked in, what are you dressed as?”

You grin, wide and bright, like you’ve been waiting for this all night.

“Your future girlfriend, I thought it was pretty obvious.”

Bradley doesn’t waste a moment bringing both of his hands to your face and getting his lips on yours. A surprised noise escapes from the back of your throat before you’re wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him even closer.

Your full lips soften under his demanding ones, the sensual slide of your lips against his has him desperate for more. His tongue chases after the sweetness of your mouth. He can’t get enough of it.

He can’t get enough of you.

“So I take it, you like my costume then?” you ask against his lips.

“I’m about to go swipe that trophy from Cousin Itt because yours is the best one here by far.” You giggle when he pulls you back in to kiss you again- or tries to. “C’mon, sweetheart, I need you to cooperate here. I’m trying to kiss my girlfriend.”

But then his teeth click against yours because now you’ve got him smiling too.

You skim another soft kiss against his mouth and lean back. “You know, I did have a back-up costume, just in case things didn’t go well.” You put a finger up and twist a little in his arms to rummage in your purse. And when you turn back towards him you’ve got a bright red clown nose on your face.

“Are you kidding me? The only clown here is Seresin.” He chuckles and gently pulls it from off your nose. “I’ve been trying to figure out how lock this down for weeks now. That tux was going to be my ace. It’s about a half size too small, but I figured it might do the trick to make things more official. It’s a good thing I’ve got a girl who knows what she wants.”

“Don’t think you’re off the hook, Bradshaw. I still want to see you in it.”

“I can make that happen. Especially since that means I get to take you home with me tonight.” He drops a kiss on your cheek. “I’ve got an idea about what we can be next year though.”

“It’s not even midnight yet, and you’re thinking about next year?”

Bradley shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m all about playing the long game. Just want to give you something to look forward to.”

“Let’s hear it then,” you say, giving him an expectant look.

“Considering how we met and all, I think contestants from Supermarket Sweep would be a solid choice for us. There’s nothing sexier than some khakis and sweatshirts.”

You look delighted and amused and like his.

“Done. You know I am a big fan of you in a pair of khakis.”

Rooster tugs you to him again needing to taste your grin. He hears a cheer go up inside of the bar, probably for whoever won the contest, but he pretends it’s for him.

After all, he’s the one who got the girl.

Happy Halloween! I'm dropping a smitten Rooster into everyone's candy bucket this year! Thank you for reading!

You can read my other stories here!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken  @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[new-fandom-scene]

Coconut Vanilla - Jake Seresin

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Summary: Staying at your place means Jake can use your "fancy" soaps.

Length: 1,578

Warnings: Fluff, Swearing, Playful Teasing, Cursing (once)

Staying at his own place was always more convenient for Jake, but it definitely does not give him the same feeling as when he stays over at yours. To Jake, there was nothing better than heading over to your place after work and opening the door to the smell of sweet bliss; and it quite literally always smelled sweet.

Jake calls you 'Sweetness' for a reason. Your apartment always held the lingering smell of fresh vanilla in the spring and summer, or warm cinnamon apple in the fall and winter. While you have been known to bake deliciously sweet treats from time to time, you were more known, at least to Jake, to always have incense out and about in each room of your apartment. Whether burning it or not, it filled your space with a layer of comfort Jake could not find anywhere else (not that he would want to anyway). You, yourself, also always smelled of such sweetness, a quality that will never stop Jake from wanting to be as close to you as possible all the time. From the coconut cream of your shampoo and conditioner, to your french vanilla body wash and lotion, there was no way Jake could ever get enough of you.

Upon reaching your front door, Jake knows you aren't home yet. You still have some loose ends to tie up before leaving work, but would make up for it by bringing home dinner for the two of you. In the meantime, Jake is welcome to hang out until you get home, something he has done a few times before. Nonetheless, there is still a smile on Jake's face when he enters the apartment and hangs his keys on the hook above the bench in your front hallway and begins to untie his shoes as the sweet vanilla scent fills his nose.

Jake makes his way down to the connecting bathroom through your bedroom and turns the shower to his "perfect level of warmth", that he always tries to convince you of. You, however, like to stick with your "hot as Satan temperature", as Jake describes it. Chuckling to himself, he undresses and tosses his clothes in the bathroom hamper before stepping into the shower. Jake stands under the water as it erases the tension of the work day and turns to his grab shampoo. You were so kind to buy Jake's usual shower essentials but, as he grasps his own shampoo, he decides to reach for yours instead. It's not like your body care items were off limits, he's just never thought about venturing out of his usuals (unless he's alone at his own place and finds himself missing you too much). He gives the shampoo a squeeze before lathering it into his sandy brown hair and enjoying the scent, your scent, filling his nose. Smelling it alone relaxes his body more than Jake thought was possible without you physically being in the shower with him.

"Shampoo twice, condition the ends," Jake reminds himself of your teaching. He's definitely come a long way from his shower routine before you came into his life. He chuckles to himself as he recalls the look of horror on your face upon finding two-in-one shampoo when you first came over to his place. After rinsing out his second shampooing, Jake conditions his tips and browses over your body care to grab your vanilla body wash and his blue loofah your bought for when he comes over. Jake decided a long time ago that he can't go too long without smelling your scent, and he especially can't go more than a day or two (two's pushing it) without having you in his reach. The second an opportune time comes to ask you to move in together, he's gonna take it. It isn't like Jake doesn't basically live at your place anyway, half of his clothes are here and he's pretty sure his dress whites are still here from when you took them to get dry cleaned last. Little old Hangman would love nothing more than to come home to your sweet, sweet self every day for the rest of his life.

When he finishes rinsing everything out and off, Jake steps out and grabs the fluffy, extra large ocean blue towels that you keep hung by the shower door. Jake drys off and wraps the towel around his hips just as he hears you enter the apartment. "Baby?" he hears your voice call out. "Are you in the shower?" Jake steps out of the bathroom, meeting you in your bedroom. Your smile grows with each step you take towards him.

"Just stepped out, Sweetness", The cocky smirk plastered on his face once he stands toe to toe with your figure. You rest your hands against his slightly damp chest.

"I can see that," you tease, fingers tracing over his toned torso. Leaning into him, you take a whiff, expecting his sandalwood scent, but instead meeting... your own? "You- you smell like me, Baby! What happened in that shower?" you tease, sniffing him all over. Jake backs up instinctively to prevent any more tickling than your sniffs have already done. Any efforts to tickle Jake are ceased when he wraps his strong arms around you and gently smushes your face into his chest, engulfing you in your own scent. "My coconut vanilla boy", you giggle against him.

"I'm a coconut vanilla man, Sweetness. Your coconut vanilla man" Your boyfriend squeezes you closer and suppresses your giggles into muffled vibrations against his chest. "We all know your stuff is nicer than mine, feel like I can treat myself to it from time to time. Plus it's Friday. S'not like anyone besides you will be commenting on it anyway. Why?" He asks in a sassy tone. "You don't like me smelling like you?" Rolling your eyes, you push yourself against him and Jake loosens his grip on you so you can turn and take some of your jewelry off and place onto your dresser. "Not the only one that can smell delicious, Sweetness. And speaking of," Jake pulls you back into him, flush chest to chest. "Am I too sweet to get a kiss?" A cocky smirk paints his face and he studies the phoney look of contemplation on yours.

"Never too sweet for a kiss, Baby," you envelope your lips between his, wrapping your arms around the nape of Jake's neck. Jake has a firm grasp on your waist, as if he thinks you would fly away from him. This is all he needs: your lips on his, you just being around him with the sureness that there is nowhere else to be other than right here with him. You pull away for air, lips slightly swollen and cheeks flushed. "All better honey?" you smirk up at him, encouraging him to steal a quick kiss.

Jake smiles down at you, licking his lips. "That'll definitely hold me over for a couple minutes, at least until we both get into some comfy clothes". He saunters over to his drawer in your dresser and pulls out a pair of boxers, pair of shorts, and two of his t-shirts. "Get changed Sweetness," Jake tosses the second shirt for you to catch. He shamelessly watches you take your work shirt off and replace it with his own.

"Did you have enough shampoo for both washes?" You ask him, tossing your discarded shirt into your bedroom hamper. "I've been meaning to restock on my shower stuff".

Jake looks down and smiles to himself, pulling his shorts on over his boxers. "No worries, Sweetness, I can just bring over your shower stuff from my place. Those bottles are still pretty full".

"That's kind of you baby", you hang your belt up. "But, if you bring them from your place, I wouldn't have anything when I'm over there. And I love you, but sandalwood isn't my vibe". Jake shakes his head and tugs his shirt down over his abdomen before slowly walking over to you.

"What if your place became our place then?" Your head shoots up, hands still holding your pants halfway down your legs. "Then it'd be alright for me to bring your shower stuff over, right?" Cheeks on fire, you shimmy out of your pants, tossing them haphazardly and meeting him in the middle of your room. Jake takes your hands in his, rubbing circles on your smooth skin.

"You wanna move in?" you ask him slowly. "With me?" Jake smirks, his hands travelling from yours, to the lower part of your back to pull you in.

"Thought you'd never ask, Sweetness", Jake smirks, but then meets your eyes with sincerity. "I've been wantin' to ask you for a while, Sweetness. I've never been so sure of someone in my entire life. I don't want to spend another day coming home after work without you on the other side of that door. I wanna come home and smell that apple cinnamon-vanilla shit and know that my coconut vanilla girl is in one of these rooms missing me as much as I'm always missing her". Your heart swells and you caress Jake's cheek before leaning it down for you to plant a kiss right on his plump lips.

"Move in with me, Jake Seresin," you declare wholeheartedly and take his face in both of your hands to meet his lips against yours in a searing kiss. "My coconut vanilla boy".

"Man, Sweetness. Your coconut vanilla man".

[b1g-biscuit]

I’ve just binged this over the course of the day and oh my goodness! I’m in love!

Season to Taste - 39/42 WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another.

PROLOGUE/1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 (interlude) 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 (interlude) 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 (interlude) 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

CHAPTER THIRTYNINE

              The trip back to North Island passes in a blur, his check-up in the medical bay on the carrier perfunctory, declaring both him and Maverick fit enough to transport, but requiring further assessment being followed by a quick debrief. So he knows he’s going to have to head to the base hospital, and the fact that both Javy and Phoenix fall in on either side of him tell him he’s going to have an escort until he’s declared completely fit, or delivered to his accommodation and told to rest. That’s fine, he kind of needs the support right now. Maverick keeps shooting him little glances, like he’s worried about him and Jake isn’t sure what to make of it.

              He’s just sitting there, waiting for Javy to finish his own check up, to drive him back to his accommodation when he senses someone settle in the chair beside him and he glances to his left and then does a double take. Holy shit. He’s not met the man before, but it’s kind of hard to miss the face of the COMPACFLT even when he’s dressed in civvies. Leo’s Uncle Tom. Holy shit.

              “Admiral Kazansky sir.”

              He gets handed a slip of paper and Jake frowns, accepts it tentatively, worried suddenly that something has happened to Leo and unfolds it.

Lieutenant Seresin, My apologies for the hand written note however my throat is often sore due to the surgeries I’ve had. I wanted to let you know I have taken the prerogative to allow your fiancé into your base accommodation. He is listed as your next of kin so I hope this is an acceptable course of action on my part. I also wanted to meet you and welcome you to the family. I’d like to invite you around for dinner tomorrow night.

              Then there’s an address and phone number, a little note about how he prefers texting and Jake’s mind boggles because the COMPACFLT just gave him his phone number, but what he keeps circling back to is Leo Leo Leo.

              “I – what? Sorry. He’s… here? Why?”

              Admiral Kazansky raises a single eyebrow, and he’s clearly judging Jake, because of course Leo is here to see him. Does he know what’s happened? Fuck Jake hopes not, hates the idea of Leo worrying unnecessarily. He was already itching to get to bed, but now he’s looking forward to it even more, knowing that Leo is going to be there waiting for him.

              “Thank you, sir.”

              Admiral Kazansky nods and then taps the piece of paper.

              “Dinner,” he says, and his voice is rough and scratchy and Jake nods automatically.

              “Yes sir.”

              That gets him another nod, and then Admiral Kazansky is standing and striding off down the hallway and he supposes he’s going to check in on the rest of the Daggers.

              Okay then.

              Dinner with the COMPACFLT.

…          …          …

              His body is aching despite the painkillers he has onboard, and as he slides the key into the lock and pushes the door open, has no idea what to expect on the other side. Whether Leo will be wide awake and waiting for him, or cooking out his stress and worry, or fast asleep in bed. It doesn’t matter, just the fact that he’s here is more than enough. Javy is watching him from the car, expression concerned, and he turns to wave, closes the door firmly behind him.

              Violet is sitting at the little table, fingers flying over the screen of her phone, takes one look at him and then she’s moving fast and wrapping her arms around him and he hugs her back despite the ache. Her rapid-fire Italian is too much right now, his brain officially suffering from a concussion, even if it is just a mild one. He gets the gist of the words though and he murmurs back sto bene, sto bene. I’m okay. I’m okay. Well he will be. The fact that she is so glad to see him tells him that they obviously know something bad happened. Okay then.

              “Mio Dio Jake… it’s so good to see you.”

              “Yeah. You too Vi… holy shit it’s been a few couple of weeks.”

              “Yeah. Uh… Leonardo’s passed out. Wait. Is this your uniform?”

              “Yes… you’ve seen me in it before,” Jake says, glancing down at his name plate. There isn’t anything different. He hasn’t accidentally put on someone else’s uniform.

              “I… I wasn’t paying attention. You’re Hangman?”

              “Yeah… it’s my callsign. Why?”

              “You… you?”

              “Vi… what’s wrong?”

              “I just… uh. You’re… are you kind of an asshole at work?”

              Jake huffs in amusement.

              “Only every waking moment…”

              “Oh dio… of course you are.”

              “What? You heard of me or something?”

              “Or something,” Vi mutters and Jake laughs, winces as his ribs protest the movement. “Shit. You probably want to see Bradley. Look. He… he’s had a rough couple of days.”

              “Yeah…” Jake starts, because his own days haven’t exactly been peachy but the look on Vi’s face is pinched. “How much do you know?” Jake asks, because what the actual fuck. He’s kind of angry that Leo has been made to worry unnecessarily.

              “That you were shot down and missing. He… he kind of went into shock. Collapsed. Had to drug him a little just to get him through and he’s… well. It’s still wearing off.”

              “What the fuck? You drugged him?”

              “His doctor drugged him. Just to… dampen everything I guess. He couldn’t keep food down, kind of just… shut down. Um… He’s passed out asleep in your bed. I’ve got a hotel room. I couldn’t leave him alone until you got here…”

              “Yeah. Okay. I’m here now.”

              He gets another hug, which he winces through but then she’s out the door with a concerned twist of her lips and he just stands there for a moment, lets his head rest against the door. He’s exhausted and he wants to sleep for fucking days. He looks fucking awful, cuts and bruises, bags under his eyes. He knows Leo won’t care but a little part of him wants to look good.

              As much as he wants a shower he sits on the edge of the bed and runs his fingers through Leo’s hair, leans down to press a kiss to the middle of his forehead. When he pulls back Leo is blinking at him with sleepy eyes.

              “Hi…” Jake whispers, throat tight.

              “Hi… mmm… you’re here…”

              “Yeah… I’m right here.”

              “Oh my god, you’re actually here…”

              Leo is moving then, arms wrapping around Jake and pulling him into the bed. He’s not used to Leo’s fingers being so tight and bruising, but he also supposes his body hasn’t usually withstood an ejection and crash landing in the last forty-eight hours either.

              “Just uh, little bit more gentle baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

              Leo sobs then and Jake wraps his arms around him as tight as possible and just holds him tight.

              “Can’t believe I almost lost you…” Jake murmurs against his hair and he gets a wet sniff in response before Leo is mumbling into his neck.

              “I’m not the one that got shot out of the sky Jake…”

              “For fucks sake… you shouldn’t know that…” Jake mutters, even though he knows it’s much too late and it’s not like he can have words with the COMPACFLT, even if he desperately wants to give him a piece of his mind.

              “Uh… actually, yeah. I need to tell you something. My, uh, Uncle Tom?”

              “Yeah. I know. I figured as much…”

              “What do you mean you figured as much?”

              “Admiral Kazansky. He’s your Uncle Tom.”

              “You… I mean… you already… you know?”

              “I’m not an idiot baby…”

              “Um… how long? How long have you known?”

              “Uh…” Jake starts, tries to think back. “At least a couple of years. I mean… I had my suspicions. Admiral Kerner confirmed it. I kind of went through your dad’s Top Gun class… sorry.”

              “Fuck. No. Don’t apologize. I need to apologize to you, I’ve been meaning to tell you for ages, but I kept forgetting…”

              “Forgetting?” Jake asks, because that doesn’t sound like Leo at all.

              “Well. We usually have more interesting things to talk about. Or do.”

              “Oh… I see how it is. It’s my fault for distracting you…”

              “Just…” Leo starts, but then yawns widely. “Just saying it like it is. I was so worried you’d be angry at me…”

              “Your family is complicated as fuck. I just figured you didn’t want to talk about it. Now I really need a shower. You going to let me go so I can go have one?”

              “No. Just… stay. Please.”

              “Yeah. Okay.”

…          …          …

              He did manage to strip down to almost nothing before he fell asleep last night, and it’s the very early hours of the morning, his bladder urgently reminding him he didn’t do his usual evening routine. His mouth feels disgusting as well. Leo is sacked out beside him, an arm and leg stretched out over him, pinning him and he shuffles, grins into the darkness as Leo’s fingers curl tighter around his torso.

              “Leo baby, I need the bathroom… I’ll be right back.”

              Leo does let him go, although he grumbles under his breath; Jake moves stiffly, knows he’s got a couple of days before he’s through the worst of it. He takes a piss and brushes his teeth, realizing he should probably take some more painkillers for his ribs. He still desperately wants a shower, doesn’t know if the noise would disturb Leo or he’ll sleep through it. Then his reflection appears in the dim half-light of the bathroom, eyes wide as his arms wrap around Jake from behind.

              “You… you’re still here.”

              “Yeah.”

              “I thought I dreamt you…”

              “Not this time,” Jake says, and he wonders if Leo is somehow going to come out of this worse than Jake. If he’ll have nightmares of Jake not coming back to him. Fuck he hopes not. “You want to have a shower with me?”

              Leo nods wordlessly and Jake turns the shower on. It’s going to be a tight squeeze but he’s got the distinct impression Leo isn’t going to give him any personal space for a while yet.

…          …          …

              They’re both quiet and he’s careful as he runs gentle hands over Jake’s body, can barely see the bruises in the dim light, but he can feel the swelling and he’s extra careful. Reaches for the bottle of Jake’s body wash and squeezes some into his hands to lather up and then scrunches his nose.

              “This is… did you switch body washes? This is my one… you smell like me,” Bradley says, and he shoves and his nose into the crook of Jake’s neck and inhales deeply, and even though they’re in the shower he can still smell the familiar scent of his own body wash on Jake. Peppermint-rosemary-green-tea.

              “Uh, well… I bought a couple bottles of your body wash. It’s what I use when I’m deployed. I like smelling like you when we’re apart.”

              “Oh…” Bradley says, and he doesn’t have anything sweetly romantic to say back, just presses a kiss to the curve of Jake’s shoulder and keeps washing him, savoring the closeness and intimacy of the moment. He’s got Jake’s body wash in his apartment, and their house in Texas, a citrus and mint scent which always makes him think of mojitos. He’s used it to jerk off a couple of times, when he’s really missed him; that’s not something he wants to bring up right now. Neither of them are in the right mindset, let along physically up for anything considering Jake winces every time he moves. He can tell Jake later, knows he’ll get a kick out of it and be smug about Bradley smelling like him. Can’t believe he’s never noticed how Jake must have come home smelling like Bradley before reverting to using his own bodywash.

              “I love you…”

              “Love you too. Very glad to be home.”

…          …          …

              They fall back to sleep and when he wakes later he feels infinitely better, knows the painkillers have obviously kicked in and the sleep has helped. Leo is awake, looking clear-eyed, watching Jake with a soft smile on his face and Jake tilts his head up, smiling when Leo automatically leans forward to press a kiss to his lips before pulling back, a question clearly on his mind.

              “If you already know about Ice, do you also know about Mav?”

              “Maverick?” Jake asks, and he resists pulling a face.

              “Yeah…” Leo says with a quiet sigh. “He’s my godfather.”

              “I know. I mean… I figured it out. Figured you didn’t want to talk about it.”

              “You… I. I didn’t. When we first started going out I wasn’t talking to him. But, uh, about a year ago, maybe a little bit longer, Ice got sick again and Mav called me…”

              “Your trips to California…” Jake says with dawning realization.

              “Yeah.”

              “Leo… why didn’t you just tell me?”

              “Well, I wanted to do it on person. Explain. But also, I was worried it might be a deal breaker… they’re a pretty big deal.”

              “I don’t think anything can break this deal…” Jake says, running his index finger over the ring on Leo’s finger. Inwardly though he’s really fucking glad he did in fact stick his neck out and save Maverick’s life. Although Maverick… oh. Huh. Now his behavior makes a bit more sense, with him trying to talk to Jake, and Jake shutting him down at each turn thinking he wasn’t currently talking to Leo.

              Ah well.

              He’ll have to apologize for that next time he sees him. Explain things. He suspects Maverick would have saved any pilot’s life if he could, but his anger at Jake when they’d found each other in the snow, that was all because he was meant to be safely back on the carrier and heading home to Leo. Yeah. Okay. That also explains some things.

              “That’s really good to know… it took me a while to tell them about you, but they know now obviously. Ice told me that both you and Mav got shot down…”

              “Fuck…” Jake breathes out, and he realizes now why it must have hit Leo so hard. To hear the news not only about Jake, but also the godfather who he’s recently reconciled with. No wonder Vi said it had been a rough couple of days.

              “Yeah. I want to go and see him. Just… make sure he’s alright as well.”

              “Of course. I need to ring my family as well. And I’m meant to be catching up with the squad as well,” Jake says, although seeing the squad is definitely lowest on his priority list.

              “Your family don’t know…”

              Jake lets out his breath, grateful for small mercies at least, even as he wishes he could have spared Leo the same.

              “Still, been in blackout and I want to talk to them…”

              “Yeah. Of course. Come on, let me make us some brunch while you call them. You must be starving…”

              Jake considers his stomach and yeah, he’s been feeling nauseated for a bit but right now, he could eat. Especially if it is Leo cooking.

…          …          …

              He knows Jake’s sisters aren’t stupid, the fact that Bradley is here, in California, in Jake’s base accommodation must tell them a lot without telling them anything and he meets their eyes through the tiny screen and just nods. He’s here, and he’ll take care of Jake. They’ll take care of each other. He wonders if Vi has said anything to them, because he definitely wasn’t in any fit state to talk to anyone. God, he’s lucky she was there.

              They’ve eaten, are standing side by side doing the dishes, placing soft kisses on whatever part of the body is closest and he can feel that his equilibrium has returned. He’s fully aware that that might change as soon as Jake is about to be deployed again, but he won’t worry about that right now.

              “Admiral Kazansky invited me to dinner…fucking Uncle Tom…”

              Bradley huffs a laugh, so relieved that Jake just… doesn’t care. Knew already. He turns and presses a proper kiss to his mouth before pulling back.

              “Oh. Cool. Nice. I’ll see you there then?”

              “You’re going to be there?” Jake asks, and he seems a little surprised. Bradley grins, leans into his space and gives him another kiss.

              “Of course. Pretty sure he’s expecting me to cook dinner.” Jake huffs at that and Bradley grins. “How about we go and lie down again for a bit, set an alarm just incase we fall asleep. Then you can catch up with the squad while I go and see Mav. Sound good?”

              “Yeah. Sounds like a plan.”

…          …          …

              He drops Jake off at the Hard Deck with strict instructions to not drink any alcohol. It gets him an eyeroll for his troubles, but it’s quickly followed by a kiss and murmured love you and Bradley feels like he’s on top of the world as he heads to Ice and Mav’s place. He stops in at the grocery store and picks up some supplies, even though Ice said he’d go out and get whatever Bradley needed he always prefers to have a look himself. He knocks on the door and waits.

              “Hey Ice…”

              “Bradley,” Ice says, and he’s enveloped in arms that used to be bigger and stronger, but still make him think of home. He looks around, and he can see Mav’s jacket and boots.

              “He’s in bed resting. Go check…”

              He’s grateful for the permission, wouldn’t want to ask otherwise, steps quietly down the hall and pushes the door open to see Mav passed out spreadeagled across the bed. He looks older than Bradley remembers, even though it’s only been a few months since he saw him. He supposes most of his memories are of Mav over twenty years ago and it’s going to take a while for them to all catch up with the realization that Mav is nearly sixty now. Regardless he’s also alive and safe and he’s so damned grateful about the fact. Glad he’d talked to him beforehand.

              He pulls the door back closed and heads back to Ice, finds him in his study, tapping a brown folder with a finger, which he the raises to beckon Bradley closer. He goes, looks at the folder and then at Ice, who is now holding it out to him.

              “What’s this?” Bradley asks, taking it. It’s thin, and when he opens it there is only two sheets of paper, double sided and he looks at Ice, waiting for an answer.

              “Debrief summary. Classified.”

              Bradley shakes his head, closes it and tries to pass it back, fairly certain he doesn’t want to read it. Already knows how close he came to losing both Jake and Mav.

              “Why? Do you think I need to read this? Can I just not be glad that they’re both home and safe?”

              Ice clearly looks torn, obviously having already made the decision to break the law by sharing classified information with a civilian and now having to deal with him not even wanting to read it.

              “Easier for you to read…”

              Bradley blows out a breath and resigns himself to reading it through, and he starts, reading quickly. It is very matter of fact, no embellishments and there are timestamps scattered throughout when they’re known. Then he reads the part where Jake announces he’s out of flares, and then Maverick saving him…

              “Oh my god…”

              “Keep reading.”

              He does, and he feels his eyes go wide, and suddenly he feels his temper rise and he bites his lip until he tastes blood.

              “What the fuck was Jake thinking?”

              “Keep reading.”

              Bradley knows how this ends. They’re both safe and alive but there’s this whole unbelievable journey and as he reads about Maverick commandeering a fucking Tomcat he looks up at Ice disbelievingly, and he just pulls a face and waves a hand.

              “Keep reading.”

              Bradley has no fucking clue who Billy Avalone is, but he’s just made Bradley’s list of gold-star humans that will never have to pay to eat in any of his restaurants ever again. Holy shit.

              “Holy shit…”

              “Mmm…” Ice hums and Bradley shakes his head.

              “This is… is it real?”

              Ice nods, even though the expression on his face clearly reads like he is struggling to believe it as well.

              “It’s really hard to be angry with someone when their actions saved the life of someone else you love… more than once. Fucking hell.”

              He’s angry, so angry, but he’s also so fucking grateful. They were both so lucky, although he knows they’re also very good pilots, so maybe they didn’t need that much luck. Still. Holy shit. His hands are shaking as he hands back the report and he rubs his hands over his face, trying to settle himself down again. Reaches for his phone and there’s a message there from Jake, simply a string of love hearts and he quickly sends a few back in response.

              “I really need to chop some things up. Come help me prepare dinner.”

…          …          …

              “Maverick has invited us all around for dinner…” Phoenix remarks and Jake blinks, because he hasn’t been invited. And sure, Maverick probably thinks Jake has a problem with him, and he doesn’t blame him for thinking that, but still… Then again;

              “Fuck. I’ve already got dinner plans.”

              “Someone more important than Maverick?”

              “Yeah. Admiral Kazansky.”

              He’s got several pairs of eyes staring at him and he shrugs helplessly, because what is he meant to do? Say no? He pulls the piece of paper with the note on it and shows it to them, eyebrows go up, and then there are a couple of frowns. Phoenix and Bob both go so far as to pull out their phones and he hopes they’re not all taking down the COMPACFLT’s phone number. Shit. He probably shouldn’t have shared that around. Too late now though.

[deakyjoe]

I Got Chills, They’re Multiplying

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x Reader (fem, she/her)

Category: sick fic, fluff

Summary: Despite being stubbornly independent, Bob won’t let you push him away in your time of need.

Warnings: sickness, sexual references and innuendos, implication of Bob having a “lieutenant” kink, just fluff mostly, reader is used to pushing people away, they’re like hella in love but won’t say it

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: Wrote this exhausted because I haven’t been able to sleep these past few days due to being sick. Enjoy!

Consider buying me a coffee :)

You stared at the last text message Bob had sent you.

Okay, get well soon!

It was unclear whether the constant pounding in your head was what was making you feel sick or if it was how quickly the text conversation had ended with your boyfriend. Well, kind-of boyfriend. You'd been on a lot of dates over the last few months but hadn't actually made it official yet.

It's not like you expected anything from him, you were used to men being pretty dismissive, and his message was actually very friendly, especially with the exclamation point at the end, but you couldn't help but feel a pang of something at him just ending the conversation like that.

To be fair to him, you had told him that you were fine, just had a cold or a minor case of the flu. It was a little worse than that but you weren't used to telling people your problems, used to keeping them bottled up inside. So you guess you couldn't really blame him for taking your word for granted and assuming that, as you'd said, you were fine. And maybe he was busy.

You sighed and tossed your phone aside, burying your face in one of the many blankets you'd dragged to your couch in an attempt to feel slightly warmer. You were being ridiculous, this is exactly what you wanted. And what you expected. At least you had peace and quiet for the day whilst you recovered.

Drifting off into a dreamless sleep came naturally with the state your body was in and you were thankful for it, hoping that the headache that had been plaguing you since you first woke up that morning would be gone by the time you woke up again.

It wasn't.

In fact, it only got worse when the rhythmic throbbing in your skull matched the timing of the person knocking on your front door. You groaned quietly to yourself and dragged yourself up off the couch, wrapping a blanket tight around your shoulders and padding to the door with only one sock on. You figured the other one must have fallen off during your nap.

You didn't even bother looking through the peephole to see who was bothering you, hoping to just snap at them to go away once you'd managed to unlock the door.

That plan was foiled when you were greeted by your favourite pair of baby blue eyes behind wire framed glasses. You immediately softened at the sight of your kind-of boyfriend.

"Oh, hi." You croaked, immediately feeling sheepish that you were about to shout at him without even thinking about the consequences.

Bob frowned at you, giving you a quick once over. "You're sick."

"Yes, I told you that." You chuckled, coughing into your elbow as soon as the words had left your mouth.

"Sicker than you let on." He clarified.

You shrugged, not knowing what to say. He was right. But that's just who you were. Keep everything to yourself, was your motto.

So you just asked him a question instead. "Why are you here? I said I was fine."

Bob smiled at that. "I think your exact words were 'yeah, I'm good' which I knew was a lie."

"Oh." That surprised you.

He went further. "You only say you're good when something's wrong."

God, were you that easy to read?

"So, I thought I'd come check on you." He stiffened suddenly. "I hope that's okay."

You didn't think it possible but somehow you softened more under his worried gaze. "Yes, that's very okay. Do you want to come in?"

You opened the door wider for him, stepping aside and grinning when he hurried in and kicked off his shoes. It was then that you noticed what he was wearing. Blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt. He looked good. Very good. If you didn't feel like you were dying then you'd definitely be jumping his bones right about now. You still kind of wanted to. You pushed the thought aside.

"Didn't realise how hot it is outside. I'm freezing." You mumbled, shuffling back towards your couch. "Do you want a drink?"

"No, thanks. But if I did then I'd make it myself. I'm here to look after you." He placed a hand on the small of your back to guide you in the direction of the blanket pile you'd previously made, smirking at the sight of it.

You shifted away from him. "You don't have to touch me. I'm sick and disgusting right now."

He huffed. "You're beautiful and lovely like always."

"Liar." You grumbled, pushing back into his hand nevertheless.

"No, just smitten and honest." He confessed, sitting you down on the couch and wrapping you in the millions of blankets. "Have you eaten today?"

You shook your head no. You didn't feel up to cooking.

"Want me to make you something?" He stood in front of you with his hands on his hips.

"No." You sighed. "It's okay."

"Yeah, I'm making you something."

You huffed. "You really don't have to-"

"I want to." He cut you off. “I don’t want you to think you can’t ask me for things. You know I care about you, right?”

You nodded slowly. “I know, I’m just used to doing stuff for myself.”

Bob smiled gently. “I know that. But now you don’t have to. I’m here for you. To help. Or whatever you need.”

You were about to respond with a fond thank you when you were interrupted by his cellphone chiming in his pocket.

“Sorry.” He grunted, pulling the device from the front of his jeans.

“It’s okay.” You coughed, curious as to why he was suddenly frowning. “Who is it?”

"Had plans with the team tonight. Was supposed to meet them for drinks." He mumbled, typing away on his phone.

"Oh, god." You rubbed your hand across your face. "Please go. You don't have to stay here. Don't let them down."

Bob suddenly looked up from his screen and gave you an amused smile. "I'm sure they'll understand that I'm looking after my sick girlfriend."

He said it so casually, as if he’d been doing it regularly. Your heart rate picked up at that. Girlfriend. His girlfriend. Bob Floyd's girlfriend. You could've squealed with glee. You stayed silent and settled for a pleased grin.

He sighed to himself once he’d replied to his team and placed his cell down on your coffee table. “Where were we? Oh! Right. Me cooking for you.”

“Like I said, you don’t need to do that.” You pulled your feet up onto the couch after a particularly violent shiver ran through you. “I’m perfectly fine.”

Bob reached out and pressed the back of his hand onto your forehead. “You have a fever. And you’re still shaking like we’re in Antarctica.”

“It’s just my immune system fighting back.” You hummed, leaning into his touch as he moved his hand down to cup your cheek.

“Exactly. And I’m sure some warm soup will just help your immune system out.” He crouched down in front of you, taking the other side of your face in his other hand. “Please let me take care of you.”

The words were so softly spoken, so tender, that you almost started crying. No one had ever sounded so sincere before, especially when it came to your well-being. If you weren’t so scared of infecting him, you would’ve leaned forward to kiss him.

So you could only reply quietly, with the smallest of nods. “Okay.”

His face burst into a dazzling smile, the kind that made you never want to stop looking at him. “Okay. You rest some more and I’ll go make that for you.”

You smiled weakly back at him, suddenly remembering something. “I don’t think I have any soup.”

Bob didn’t falter. “That’s alright. I’ll figure something out.”

You thought that maybe you were a little bit in love with him.

“Help yourself to anything.” It didn’t need to be said, he knew your kitchen pretty well at this point and you always made it clear that he was free to eat or use anything in it when he was over at your place.

He nodded, pressed a kiss to your forehead and stood up. “Try to sleep a little. This might take a while.”

You snorted, regretting it immediately as it made your throat feel all scratchy. “Yes, Lieutenant.”

Bob paused for a second, halfway to taking a step towards the kitchen, and looked back at you. “Lieutenant?”

You nodded, mouth twitching at the corners.

He seemed to think on it for a second. “Hm, we’ll come back to that.”

You giggled quietly into your blanket and settled back onto the couch, closing your eyes and thinking of Bob Floyd. Your boyfriend. Your extremely caring boyfriend. Who was in your kitchen making you soup! When did you suddenly get so lucky? The musings drifted away with you as you slipped into unconsciousness.

Some time passed before you were awoken again by Bob stroking the side of your face and softly uttering your name.

You rubbed your eyes as you sat up, slightly confused as your head cleared. “What’s going on?”

“Soup.” He replied simply, picking up your legs and sitting down before placing them across his lap. He leaned forward to grab the bowl and spoon on your coffee table and then turned to face you.

“You gonna feed me?” You teased.

Bob smiled. “I would if you wanted me to but I’m sure you’d rather I throw this soup in your face than do that.”

He was right.

“Hm, when did you get to know me so well?” You asked, half joking as you took the bowl and spoon from him. The soup was a rich green colour. What he’d found to put in it, you had no idea. “Always thought I was closed off.”

“You are.” He shrugged. “But I pay attention.”

Your eyes shot up to meet his again. He was just looking at you with a slight smile, hands smoothing up and down the lengths of your clothed legs.

You were definitely a little bit in love with him.

You defaulted to a joke. "Remind me when I'm feeling better that you're gonna get it sooo good."

Bob snorted. "I think the fever is making you delirious."

"I'm just frustrated because you, somehow, look hotter than usual and I'm too sick to do anything about it." You gestured vaguely to his outfit, using the spoon to point.

“I’m wearing jeans and a t-shirt.”

“Hot.” You insisted.

"Okay, I'll remind you." He rolled his eyes. “Now eat your soup.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.” You mumbled, dipping the spoon into the thick liquid.

He huffed out a laugh.

You weren’t surprised in the least that the soup was delicious. You were starting to believe that Bob might actually be the perfect man, some sort of miracle sent to Earth to apologise for all the wrongdoing in the world. How he’d managed to concoct a good soup out of the limited ingredients in your kitchen was beyond you. And yet, he’d done it.

“What the hell did you put in this?” You asked, frowning at him mock suspiciously. If you didn’t know him better you’d think he’d ordered it to your place while you were asleep. But Bob Floyd wasn’t that kind of guy.

“Some stuff I found laying around.” He shrugged modestly. “Didn’t follow a recipe or anything.”

You scoffed. “You’re something else.”

He just shrugged again, a pleased smile playing on the corners of his lips, and watched you practically inhale the rest of the dish. He was very glad you’d eaten it.

“How you feeling now?”

“Better.” You admitted. “But I don’t know if it’s because of the soup or because you’re here.”

Bob’s heart thudded against his rib cage at that confession. “Just happy to help.”

You hummed and stared at him fondly.

He had trouble getting his next question out, distracted by the way you were looking at him. “Do- do you- do you want to go back to sleep?”

You hesitated before answering him, mulling an idea over in your mind. “There is something I want.”

“Oh, yeah? What is it?” He was willing to do anything for you.

“Don’t want you to get sick.” You sighed.

He smiled. “I think we left that concern behind when I first got here.”

Your eyes widened. “No! Don’t make me feel guilty.”

“I’m not trying to.” Bob assured you. “But I doubt whatever you want is going to have a higher risk of getting me sick than me just sitting here next to you.”

You grumbled something underneath your breath to yourself.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind getting sick off of you.”

Maybe you were a lot in love with him.

So you let it burst out of you. “Wanna cuddle.”

Bob didn’t even respond to you, just scooped you up into his arms and maneuvered the two of you into the position he knew you liked - him on his back with you half on top of him and half next to him, one leg and one arm slung around him, your face buried his chest and head tucked under his chin, one of his hands moving to stroke up and down your arm, trace patterns across your back and comb through your hair.

He knew you so well.

You nuzzled your face against his t-shirt. “Thank you.”

He inhaled deeply. “You don’t need to thank me.”

“I want to. You didn’t have to do all of this.”

“Making you soup is nothing. It’s not like I’m giving you a kidney.” He paused. “Although I’d probably do that too.”

You chuckled against his chest. “What I mean is, most guys would’ve accepted my ‘I’m good’ text and carried on with their day. You didn’t.”

“Because I knew you were lying.” He reminded you.

“That’s my point. No one has ever known I was lying before.” You tilted your head up to look at him. “I’m glad you knew.”

“Me too.”

Bob wanted to kiss you but knew you’d kill him if he tried. So he settled for the smile he gave you that always made you look away nervously. Which you did, as predicted, and then swiftly fell asleep against him. He wondered how’d he’d gotten so lucky. Sure, he was caring for a sick person but it was the happiest he’d been in a long time. Which should sound ridiculous but to him it made more sense than anything.

He was knocked out of his thoughts when you whined lowly in your sleep and held onto him tighter. He smiled down at you and held you closer to his chest.

Bob knew then that he was a lot in love with you.

A/N: And we’re back!