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-> Epilogue: Part One [Boulevard of Broken Dreams]
Summary: You received a call you and Bradley Bradshaw have been waiting on for what felt like a decade. Jakes mother causes a scene as worry consumes you. And does Jake want the very thing that put him in the hospital in the first place?
Warnings: Jake Seresin Whump. Mentions of Religion. F!reader x Jake Seresin. Angst, Mother-in-law issues. F-18 crash. Bad Medical representation.
Word Count: 6.2k
Author Note: EEEPPPPP we're almost there. this is the chapter EVERYONE has been waiting for. Just what the hell is going on! Please don't forget to let me know what you think.
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist
December 23rd
Your genetic makeup, the genes that you inherit from your parents, determines who you are biologically. They’re your blueprint so to speak. Everything from your eye colour to your height to your laugh. Even some diseases like asthma, diabetes, and various cancers.
But who you are at the core of it all goes far beyond your genetic makeup. Who you really are is the result of many, many things: How you deal with fear. Who you surround yourself with. And how you show up when it matters most.
The sea breeze was a gentle reminder of how quickly life could change in the blink of an eye. As you walked along the sand with small, barely there waves lapping at your ankles, the sight of families running after beach umbrellas and holding down sandy towels after the sudden gust of wind came through and caused a disturbance, really made you smile. Smiles were a treasure that was few and far between. It had been for months.
The somewhat sunny day was shrouded in the unknown. Chronic winds continued to wreak havoc on unsuspecting families just trying to enjoy their weekend. A storm was brewing off the coast. But for you, something much more life-altering was wreaking havoc. Something all-encompassing and certifiably depressing was eating away at your soul.
Your boyfriend and the love of your life had been severely injured in a work accident just over two months ago. His mother is certifiably insane and clearly doesn’t like you even existing on the same planet as her son… and his best friend hasn’t left you alone in what felt like a century.
But who were you to compare tragedies on this fine, sunny day?
“There you are!” The second you heard that agitating, grading voice, you rolled your eyes so hard you could have fallen into the shallows. The flightless bird you knew as Bradley Bradshaw was racing after you, making his presence known along the shore as he ran to catch up. “God, you had me worried for a second there. I was talking to Sue for like five seconds and you were just gone.”
“Some bodyguard you are,” you huffed as Bradley finally caught up to you. It wasn’t that you didn't like Rooster, it was more about the fact he felt obligated to keep an eye on you given the circumstances. “How is Sue anyway?”
“Uh–” Bradley looked back over his shoulder hesitantly to see the woman he’d been dating for the last few weeks walking away. “I don’t think we'll be seeing Sue much anymore.” It was all the explanation you needed. And if you were to be completely honest you didn’t blame the women. Who wants to fight for attention with a man whose sole responsibility these days was to keep his best friend's unborn children safe?
“You should be paying more attention to the women you’re trying to sleep with you know,” you replied as you kept walking down the pristine beach. The place that had become a home away from home. “I’ve told you, I don’t need a babysitter. We’re good, I promise.”
It had been an unspoken understanding since meeting Jake’s wingman that Rooster would look after you if anything were ever to happen to Jake. It went both ways for the two aviators from hell. Although at times the pair couldn’t be in the same room as one another without starting World War Three, it was a given that they would always be there for the other’s loved ones. It was brotherhood in its finest and rawest form.
But it was driving you mad.
“Jake wouldn’t–” Bradley tried to explain, but you’d heard this explanation too many times by this point. So much so you could finish Rooster’s sentence for him.
“‘Jake wouldn’t forgive you if something were to happen to me’, I know I know,” you huffed again. Your right hand came down to rest across your growing bump. Two little souls were currently using your internal system as their personal development grove. Two little Seresin babies that were as unexpected as they were blessed— or at least, to you. “But you– for as much as I appreciate everything you have and will continue to do for us Rooster– are driving me insane.”
“Too bad,” couldn’t help but laugh as he pulled you into his side. His arm slung over your shoulders before you could even protest his actions. “You’re Jake’s girl and Jake’s not here so therefore I gotta do what I gotta do and that my dear Y/n–” Bradley paused for a second before he continued just like the small waves that lapped at your ankles. Fear threatened to overcome Rooster’s nervous system. Yet, fending off fight or flight mode, he continued. Playing the role you needed him to be: Caregiver brick wall extraordinaire. “---Is to be right here, by your side, until that idiot wakes up.”
They say time heals most wounds. And for the majority of people that saying is pretty spot on. But for Jake Seresin, that hadn’t been the case. Jake had been in an induced coma for weeks after his near-death accident. The experienced aviator was no match for the panic attack that took him hostage mid-training exercise. His body currently lay battered, burnt and bruised in the Miramar Base Hospital in the intensive care unit. His soul remained trapped inside the mind you sometimes hated to love and loved to hate.
And when Doctors tried to wake him from the state they’d put him into in order to heal…he didn’t wake up.
That was back in November…It was now approaching Christmas Day and still, there was no sign of Jake waking from his coma. He’d battled and fought what seemed like everything the world could throw at him: Broken bones. Third-degree burns. A swollen brain. Organ damage. Pneumonia. You name it and Jake had battled it.
He was a fighter. Someone who was going to fight until he had nothing left. Doctors assured you there was brain activity. A good indication of a recovery.
But when he would wake was entirely up to him…
“Some idiot huh?” you teased playfully at your boyfriend’s expense. But the reality of the situation was that with every passing day, with every complication or turn of events, you missed Jake more and more. “He’s coming out the other side of the phenomena though, which is a good sign.”
Bradley walked by your side as the two of you debriefed about what the day would bring. First, you needed to shower and change into something that wasn’t kissed by the salty air of the beach you liked to walk along every morning. It helped you clear your head from all the noise. Since Jake’s accident, your head hadn’t been quiet. Voices echoed all day long inside your mind about what you could be doing better, more of. What you could have done differently.
Sometimes those voices would grow louder and stronger the longer you tried to avoid them. However, averting your gaze and pretending the voices didn’t exist was a harder task than first thought…especially when the voices that escaped your mind were coming from Jake’s mother.
That self-proclaimed holier than thou mother fu—
Next, you needed to eat something. You hadn’t had much of an appetite your entire pregnancy. Bradley liked to think it was because of the additional stress Jake’s hospitalisation had caused. You knew he’d say something if you didn’t at least try to consume something of substance.
And finally, to you, the most important part of the list of to-do’s, was to get over to Miramar Base Hospital and see the man who’d captivated your entire heart. The goal every day besides growing two human lives was to be by Jake's side.
Even if at the end of the day the result of all this turmoil and trauma was a breakup you knew his mother was already actively praying for, you’d still be able to say you weren’t the one who walked away.
“Come on,” Bradley gently placed his arm around your shoulders. “Let’s get outta here. I’m sure Jake’s waiting for us.”
“His mother will be there,” you said without hesitation. There was a frustrated sadness in your voice. A longing for privacy. A declaration for peace. You knew Bradley was aware of the hostile relationship between the two of you, he'd been present for a few altercations. But you also knew he was right and Jake would want you there if you could be. And it was a could-be day. For both you and Rooster. “I was thinking maybe we could go a little later in the day, give her some time alone–”
“Y/n?”
Yeah?” You knew what was coming, it felt like the two of you had had this same exact conversation every day for the past four weeks.
“You’re the mother of Jake’s soon-to-be twins. He’d want you there more than Janise.”
“It’s Janeen, Roo,” you grinned to yourself as you looked down at your growing bump with a loving hand resting over your belly button. “And Hell would probably freeze over before she realises that.”
“I thought you weren’t a religious person?” Rooster frowned momentarily as he searched his brain for any conversational remarks he may have missed in passing that would have led him to forget your religious values. He wasn’t a God-loving man himself, but there had to be something out there, right?
“I’m not.” You had never followed a religion or its practices, but the longer the love of your life remained in a coma after sustaining life-threatening injuries, the more you were open to whatever religious being extended a helping hand first. Including but not limited to Satan. You’d sell your soul in a heartbreak to bring Jake back. “But a girl can dream, can’t she?”
Your non-religious self-awareness was the deciding factor when it came to Janeen not accepting you. Ever since Jake had brought you home to his parents one winter break back in your college days, you knew it was a battle not worth fighting.
You were the girl who got away. The rogue agent. The true crime writer with an appetite for knowledge and literature. Jake was the aspiring college football star turned Naval Aviator.
Jake broke it off in the spring before he went to basic. You wanted roots and stability he at the time couldn’t offer. He was off to see the world and the world would be his oyster. You couldn’t stand in the way of that no matter how much you believed Jake Seresin was the one for you.
You knew Jaeen was over the moon with joy and delight that her precious boy had come home to his faith and exiled the woman who was leading him down a road of treacherous sin.
Get the fuck outta here.
It wasn’t until about a year or so ago that you and Jake reconnected after he’d come back from a mission that had him staring death right in the face and questioning what he had to look back on.
All he saw was you in that library at college smiling across at him while explaining that Christmas was fake. Something his mother would have burnt him at the stake for believing.
So, Jake called. And like a love-sick loser, you came running from across the country. Rhode Island was your home, but wherever Jake Seresin was in the world was where your heart would be.
“I bet she cries herself to sleep at night more over the fact you and Hangman are having children out of wedlock than she cries over the fact he nearly died,” Bradley growled.
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” you replied as a gust of wind picked up a beach umbrella in the distance. “I’m something straight out of the book of the damned, Bradshaw. The idea of us having a child together, let alone twins, took twenty years off her life.”
“Jake would have loved to see her face when you told her,” Bradley chuckled. Then he cleared his throat and did his best to steer the conversation back on track. “We still have to go to the hospital.”
Reluctantly, you agreed. “Fine, but you’re taking me to get a muffin from Bells Bakery first,” you said all the while Rooster rolled his eyes. You knew he couldn’t say no. How do you say no to a pregnant lady who just wants a sweet little treat before spending hours in the same room as your comatose boyfriend and his overbearingly religious mother? You don’t. You don’t say no, you simply nod in agreement.
*************************
Every disease has its unique course it takes in the body when left untreated. The process begins with exposure to a root cause that sends a ripple effect throughout the body. The disease then progresses, ultimately resolving in one of three possible outcomes…
You get better, you stay chronically ill, or you die.
The weather had taken a drastic turn since you and Rooster left the beach earlier that morning. The slightly overcast and windy day brought in a nice north-easterly storm. Rain was the only thing that filled the silence as you sat waiting patiently. You caught yourself thinking of what you’d give to hear Jake’s voice before the new year.
The carefully cultivated interior design of Bradley’s Bronco was something straight out of every single bachelor’s wet dream. This car was what you expected the inside of his soul to look like. And if you were to ever become anything like Jake’s Mother, you’d think this car would be Bradley’s version of a perfect heaven.
Then, like a premonition, your phone rang, splitting the quiet like lightning through a dark sky.
"Hi, Y/n,” Doctor Hughes sounded rather cheerful as you sat in the passenger seat of Bradley’s Bronco.
“It appears that our dear friend is waking up," his voice was urgent but steady. For a moment, your mind stumbles, caught between disbelief and hope. Then you’re moving — grabbing keys, kicking on your sandals, heart pounding louder than an engine roaring to life.
“Rooster?” you whispered as you clambered out of the parked Bronco. The curb hated to see a Bradshaw coming. “I’ll be there as soon as I can!” You awkwardly spoke into your phone before hanging up without hesitation. There was no time to waste on small talk. Jake was waking up.
The world outside blurred into streaks of light and shadow as you walked as fast as you could, each passing second stretched thin by desperation. Memories flashed — hospital visits, whispered promises, tear-soaked prayers, or whatever bullshit Jake’s mother insisted on mumbling.
“Rooster!?” you yelled as panic, fear, and anxiety overcame your nervous system. “Bradshaw?” you yelled once more as you entered the small locally owned bakery..
“Hey, what’s wrong? I just ordered a coffee to go and your apple cinnamon muffin.,” Rooster could tell by the look on your face and how sickly you looked that something had happened. “Is the Bronco okay?”
The fact that was the first thing his mind jumped to angered you to no end. “Yes, the fucking Bronco is fine, you idiot,” you sighed as your belly felt heavy with two Seresin children, a nervous shit, and impending vomit. “Jake’s waking up.”
“No way, who called?” Bradley kicked into fifth gear before your eyes as he ushered you out of the cafe without his coffee or your muffin.
“Rooster, our order?” you protested as he barrelled out of the cafe with your shoulders in his hands. “Hold up!”
“We gotta go, you wanna be there when he wakes up, don’t you?” Rooster asked, thinking the answer you’d give him would be a straight-up “yes”. There shouldn’t have been any other answer. But the longer you stood still not answering, Bradley knew something was eating away at you. “Y/n, why are you being weird about this? He’s okay, everything’s gonna be alright.”
“What if he doesn’t want this?” your eyes welled with tears in the middle of the walkway. “What if he doesn’t want me? What if…what if he doesn’t want the ki–our kids?”
Surgical intervention doesn’t always work when it comes to disease. Sometimes, despite best efforts, the disease wins. It takes over our cells one-by-one…until the damage can no longer be reversed. When that happens, all you can do is take the loss and move on. But when you can change the course of someone’s disease, you can change the course of their life. It’s enough to make you want to come back for more.
“Oh, Y/n, no,” Bradley cooed as he drew you in for a much-needed hug. “Jake’s a lot of things, and he’s done a lot of stupid things, but giving you up all those years ago was his biggest mistake,” Rooster reminded you as the tears you cried stained his T-shirt. Your face was buried in his chest. A chest that had soaked up far too many of your tears these last few weeks. “I know there’s a lot of unknowns, but if there’s one thing I know for sure it’s that Jake’s never gonna let you guys go. I promise you.”
“He didn’t want the baby before he–” You couldn’t finish your sentence without breaking out into an all-out wail. Bradley held you tighter than he ever had before. He didn’t know what you hadn’t told him. And what you hadn’t told him was the whole truth…
The whole truth was that Jake’s accident had been your fault. Or so it felt like it.
“Hey, hey, you’re good,” Rooster tried his best to soothe your soul all the while the lady who’d taken his order before kindly brought it out. He was sure to thank her silently over your shoulder as she placed the muffin in its brown paper bag and his takeaway coffee on the bench. “Whatever happened before all this, I’m sure it’s gonna work out. Jake loves you so much,” Rooster beamed as he rubbed your back. “He’s not letting you or these kiddos go.”
**********************
As the Bronco sped down the rain-slick streets, tires hissing against the wet pavement, Bradley’s hands gripped the steering wheel as tight as possible. His knuckles were white with tension. You sat anxiously in the passenger seat, phone clenched tightly in your hands, replaying the call from Dr. Hughes in your mind over and over again like a broken Rolexes that held only one memory.
"It appears that our dear friend is waking up,” Jensen Hughes, Jake’s primary doctor who had been with him since the first day he was brought into the hospital, had said. The words echoed in your head, filling your mind, body, and soul with equal parts hope and fear.
"We’re almost there," Bradley muttered, more to himself than to you. His jaw was set, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. His best friend was waking up from a coma he never really thought he’d come out of. He’d been looking after you and his unborn children since the accident. Jake had missed so much and nothing all at the same time.
"He’s strong. He’s been fighting this whole time." You reached over, resting a hand on his arm. Bradley nodded in return but didn’t speak. The memories of countless nights spent at Jake’s bedside haunted you both. Each mile seemed endless, stretched by the weight of anticipation.
The hospital's glowing sign finally appeared through the rain-streaked windshield. Bradley exhaled sharply, parking the car with a jerky halt. Without another word, you both dashed toward the entrance, hearts pounding, ready to see Jake — ready to hope again.
**********************
The elevator doors opened with a subdued ding as you and Rooster stepped into the hushed hospital hallway. The dim overhead lights cast a pale glow, reflecting off the sterile white walls. Neither of you spoke as you walked toward Jake’s room. Both too anxious to say anything that could jeopardise this significant moment in Jake’s recovery.
As you approached the familiar door, you hesitated. Your breath hitched in your throat. Bradley gently squeezed your hand, grounding you in the moment. You felt like you were going to be sick. Your twins pressed on every vital organ they had shoved to whatever side they could to make room for themselves. Here you were, Jake Seresin’s pregnant girlfriend, about to see him awake for the first time in what felt like a decade. Rounding the final corner, you saw the familiar door, slightly ajar, light spilling into the hallway. For a moment, neither of you moved, overwhelmed by hope and fear intertwined.
"We’re here," Bradley whispered, his voice steady though his eyes betrayed the weight of his worry.
As you pushed the door open, you were met with the soft beeping of the heart monitor and the steady whoosh of the ventilator. Jake lay still, his face pale but peaceful, lost in the depths of his coma. His mind was a world away, carried off into the subconscious. His body was the only remaining evidence to suggest he was still with you.
Your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill as you stepped closer. Why were you expecting him to be awake and alert? Wishing thinking once again overcomplicated your usually realistic outlook on how things worked in this world. Perhaps it had been the way Doctor Hughes spoke to you on the phone. Or maybe it was the pregnancy hormones that allowed for more hopeful endings. Either way, neither explanation added up to the expectation you had set.
"Hey, Jake... it’s us," you whispered, voice trembling. Bradley pulled a chair close and ushered you to sit beside the bed.
"We’re not going anywhere," he said firmly. "You hear me? We’re right here." Resting a hand on Jake’s forearm, Rooster was quick to let his wingman know he was there. The room remained silent except for the rhythmic beeping, but neither of you moved, holding onto hope with every passing second.
“We heard what you’ve been up to while we’ve been gone, baby,” you cooed softly as you stroked Jake’s cheek gently, taking in the sight of his peacefully unaware self. “And we don’t plan on going anywhere until we get to see those beautiful eyes of yours.”
“What’s going on here?” The familiar voice made your heart sink into your stomach as you tried to get as comfortable as you could in the world’s most uncomfortable hospital chair. Janeen stood in the doorway with a fresh coffee from the cafe downstairs in her aging hand. Her nails, manicured to perfection, clutched around the paper cup so much so that you swore the scolding hot liquid would burst through the weakened structure. “Did something happen? Why the urgency to not go anywhere?”
“Did–” you paused for a second as you allowed yourself to sink a little further into your chair with a protective hand strewn across your ever-growing baby bump. “Did anyone call you?”
“Why would anyone call me when I’m already here, silly girl.” Janeen scoffed as she walked further into Jake’s room. A room that had been his for weeks. A room that your mother had helped you decorate with Christmas lights and decorations as the season approached with every passing day. A bleak, barren hospital room was no place for a soul full of such joy and fun and high-octane energy. Jake deserved more than white walls and sterile floors.
“Right, my bad for asking,” you sighed as Rooster rolled his eyes discreetly and tried to hide his disdain for his best friend’s mother. A mother he knew Jake wasn’t so fond of either. Especially when it came to you.
“Jane!” Rooster beamed as he broke the tension. “Long time no see. How long has it been?” Bradley smiled as he shot you a cheeky look of mischief. This was who Rooster was at his very core. A shit-stirring moustache-having gold star kid. The best there was. He’d been a rock for you during this whole ordeal. There had never been a moment these past few months where you hadn’t been able to cry on Rooster’s shoulder or vent to him in full confidence that everything you said would stay with him and only him.
“I saw you yesterday, son,” Janeen replied sternly, not a single hint of amusement in her tone. Yet, Rooster continued with his antics. He knew well enough by now to know if he kept going, Janeen would cut you some slack. Rooster had been an on-and-off fixture in the Seresin household for years. Ever since Jake and Bradley met in the academy. And boy did Janeen Seresin have a soft spot for the man who grew up without parents or any sort of guiding light. She saw real potential in the Bradshaw kid. If he just applied himself to God, he could be one of his finest soldiers.
“Really? I’d never forget seeing you! Are you sure it was yesterday? I heard dementia is kinda contagious in these sorts of environments,” Bradley grinned as he pulled the shorter, aging woman with that signature older mother smell into him for a hug. He was sure to send you a wink over her head.
You had to stuff the boisterous laugh that threatened to spill from your mouth right back down into the depths of your stomach before World War Three could erupt right here in Jake’s hospital room. To be perfectly honest though, you wouldn’t be opposed to that diagnosis. Perhaps then you’d have somewhat of a chance at developing some sort of relationship with the grandmother of your children. Even if each and every day brought a new personality and memory bank. Oh, a girl could dream.
“Y/n, be a dear and get me a chair will you?” If you weren’t already sitting down, you would have fallen over with shock.
“Oh, I can do that,” Bradley quickly jumped into action, not wanting you to get up. “I’ll go get you one, I’ll be right back.” He grinned at Janeen before sending you a worrying look of concern. A look that didn’t necessarily look the best on him. “Don’t–just don’t kill each other while I’m gone, alright?”
“Scouts honour,” you held your hand up as if you were swearing on the bible. Something you’d never actually do. But as Janeen looked over at where you were sitting, she nodded in agreement.
“Right, I’ll be right back,” Bradley groaned hesitantly as he left the room. Leaving an unconscious and comatose Jake to fend for himself. “Sorry pal, she’s your mother,” he mumbled to himself as he shook his head and continued out of sight. The second Rooster was gone…it was on for young and old.
“I’ve organised a paternity test for when you have the babies–” Janeen informed you like it wasn’t the worst insult you’d ever heard.
“Excuse me?” you replied rather harshly as you sat up in your chair. In what world would these not be Jake’s children? How was this happening right now? How was she doing this when Jake was slowly waking up from his endless sleep?
“You heard me,” Jeneen smirked. “I need to protect my son,” For a woman who preached about being God’s seeing eye, she really was doing the devil’s work.
“Your son should have listened in sex-ed a little more.” You knew even the mention of sex would have Janeen’s skin crawling. Sex out of wedlock! How dare you, how would you ever be cleansed of your sins? “Are you being serious right now Janeen?”
“I almost lost him once!” Jake’s mother raised her voice as she stepped closer to his bedside, taking in the sight of her grown, adult child. “I’m not losing him again and certainly not to some wannabe writer who wants to live off my son’s achievements.”
“Almost doesn’t matter because almost never happened,” you made sure to say before you went on to unleash a declaration of war against your not-so-mother-in-law. “But I can guarantee if you try and destroy this family before it has a chance to grow, so help whatever God you believe in bitch…I’ll burn your entire life to the ground and smile when I watch the millions of dollars you put into that ranch burn too.”
“You vindictive girl.” Janeen had nothing else to say from the other side of Jake’s hospital bed.
“Don’t threaten my family and I won’t threaten yours.” It was the only warning you were ever going to give.
“He’s my son!” Janeen shouted as Bradley made his wake back down the hall with a chair in hand.
“And he’s my hu–”
You couldn’t finish your sentence. With so many hormones and emotions coursing through your veins, you slipped. Jake wasn’t your husband. He wasn’t your fiance. He was your boyfriend. And for as much as you wanted to marry the man lying in that hospital bed after nearly losing his life, you knew that question was far from being asked. If it were ever to be asked. Jake Seresin had grown up watching his parents hate each other…he’d made it clear marriage was something he wasn’t interested in. Why would he be when he spent his childhood listening to his mother beg his father to fix some stupid faucet that never did get fixed?
Why would Jake ever be interested in marriage when he could remember the intervention his grandfather gave his dad at their wedding, something about it wasn’t too late to back out. Hell, why would Jake be interested in marriage when he watched his father fall out of love so hard with his mother that she never really clued him in on her battle with breast cancer? Jake grew up under the guidance of God and his almighty word…
But the way his father had treated his mother throughout Jake’s life had truly left a sour taste in his mouth. And if Jake, through biological design, was anything like his dad…he was never going to put himself in a position where he could emulate any sort of resemblance to his father.
Trauma am I right? (He’d told you so much about his childhood.)
“Honey, you’re nothing more than an incubator,” Janeen hissed with a wicked smirk plastered across her face. “He’s my son, and my son knows better than to allow himself to stoop as low as ending up with someone like you.”
“I thought I told you two not to kill each other?” Rooster tried to intervene as he placed the chair down beside where Janeen stood. He’s never seen you look so worked up. So angry. So hurt.
“Janeen.” You took a deep breath in and closed your eyes. “When I have these children, Jake’s children, if I have it my way you will never see them. You will never get to know them do you hear me? No God or religion or wackadoodle fucking beliefs you have will ever help you have a relationship with my children because if you can’t look me in the fucking eye and see what your son sees in me then I’m not entertaining any sort of relationship with you.”
“If they’re really my grandbabies then you can’t keep them from seeing their family–”
“She’s their mother, Jane, I don’t think you have much say in the matter,” Rooster sided with you as politely as he could. He wasn’t going to be the one to point out that Jake's fingers were twitching either.
“Better start praying really hard Janeen,” you chuckled, knowing that although you didn’t win this battle, you’d win the war. “Maybe Rooster will bring back a pillow for your knees,” you teased, a little out of line but it was so worth the look of horror on her face. “You’ll be on them for a hell of a long time.”
**********************
The roar of twin afterburners pierced the sky as Jake pushed his F-18 Super Hornet through a steep climb. The clear blue expanse stretched endlessly above, the ground a distant memory. This was his element—a place where skill and instinct defined survival. Still, the only thing on his mind when he should have been focusing on controlling a multimillion-dollar piece of military equipment was you. You were pregnant. Jake was going to be a father.
He should have listened to you when you said the two of you could talk about it after he got home from work. He never should have pressed you for more information. But Jake had and the second the words came out of your mouth, he heard nothing else after the words “I’m pregnant Jake–we’re gonna have a baby.”
He wasn’t ready to be a dad. A father. Being a dad was the last thing Jake thought he should ever be. He wasn’t raised to procreate. He shouldn’t be responsible for another human being. If Jake was even an ounce like his own father, that kid, that poor fetus growing inside you as he raced through the sky, was about to have one hell of a childhood. It wasn’t even just having a baby that terrified him. How was Jake meant to teach this kid right from wrong when he was still learning that himself?
“What if I told you that I wasn’t sure if I wanted kids, but I want you?” Jake knew the second that the question left his lips…that it hadn’t come out the way it should have. But the reality was he had said it, and the look in your hopeful eyes quickly shattered and was replaced with a reluctance to continue with the conversation.
Self-doubt radiated off Jake like his life force was fading. Today's training was a high-intensity combat simulation over the rugged terrain of Redstone Valley. Jake and Rooster were executing advanced dogfighting maneuvers against an elite training squadron. Every turn, every roll, every burst of speed was a calculated dance of power and precision.
"Bandit on your six!" Bradshaw’s urgent voice crackled through Jake's headset.
His wingman had questioned him earlier in the day about what had him so uptight. Jake hadn’t been himself today, he knew that much for sure. But that was because he couldn’t stop thinking about you and the very fact you were pregnant with his child. A child created out of love and endless passion. But that wasn’t enough to make Jake want to be a father after being so sure for so many of his adult years that he wasn’t supposed to be a father. “Hangman! Get your arse into gear man!”
Jake yanked the stick hard left, pulling into a sharp barrel roll. The G-forces slammed him into his seat as he broke away, narrowly avoiding the pursuing jet's simulated missile lock. His pulse raced, his adrenaline surged as his heart beat against his cheat so hard he swore he was having a heart attack…
Suddenly, the cockpit warning system blared—a mechanical shriek of impending doom. "ENGINE FAILURE—LEFT ENGINE!" flashed across the Heads-Up Display.
"Mayday, mayday, this is Viper One, experiencing critical engine failure. Attempting emergency procedures," Jake radioed, his voice steady despite the rising tension. The heart attack he swore he was having was a full-blown panic attack. Jake couldn’t catch his breath long enough to maintain focus. “Fuck, Rooster! I’m going down! Mayday–mayday!” Children’s laughter filled the cockpit as Jake spiralled out of control.
“JAKE! EJECT EJECT EJECT!” Bradley shouted frantically through the coms. He watched on in pure horror as one of the best aviators he knew plummeted to earth without much control. “HANGMAN EJECT!”
“Tell Y/n I love her–” was the last communication that Bradley received before Jake frantically gave up his battle with the controls to pull his chute.
Much like Rooster’s late father, Jake’s emergency exit hadn’t gone according to plan. The roar of the F-18's engines screamed in Jake's ears as the warning lights flashed across the cockpit. Smoke billowed from the right engine, as his aircraft trembled violently.
As Jake pulled his emergency chute, he was propelled into the sky as his F-18 was engulfed in flames so hot the heat melted his uniform into his skin. If he’d waited even one second more he would have been a goner. The emergency exit did little to stop the dramatic fall from grace Jake was experiencing. He plummeted unconscious from the sky towards the burning pile of rubble that was, just a few seconds ago, his Super Hornet.
The ground felt like solid concrete as Jake slammed into the side of the valley, bones shattered on impact as Rooster watched on in utter agony. His helmet did little to cushion the impact, although that was its intended purpose. Emergency services had already been sent out to Jake’s last known location… but there was little that could be done for Jake as he lay in a twisted pile of his emergency parachute. Blood stained his flight suit as his body began to shut down.
He was dying, but the laughter of children filled the silence like sunlight filtering through leaves—light, spontaneous, and full of love.
‘Twas the Night Before Christmas | Steve Harrington
★ Warnings: dad!steve, mom!reader, husband!steve, fem!reader, no use of y/n, established marriage, domestic fluff, mentions of parenting and child behavior, playful family banter, holiday traditions, mild chaos caused by kids, Steve being the ultimate dad, tender family moments, sweet kisses, references to Home Alone, soft nostalgia, and an abundance of Christmas warmth.
★ Summary: It’s Christmas Eve, 1995, and the Harrington family is in full holiday mode. Between their six-year-old son Ethan’s endless questions, their four-year-old daughter Sadie’s knack for causing adorable mischief, and Steve’s playful dad jokes, the night is full of warmth and laughter. 3k
★ Pairings: steve harrington x fem!reader
★ Fic Inspiration: “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” - Frank Sinatra (again)
★ Dividers: thank you to @bernardsbendystraws for the adorable divider, it’s greatly appreciated!
★ Author’s Note: husband and dad steve harrington. goodness. anyways this should be the last Christmas and overall fic of the year (be on the look out for new year’s day) unless i get inspiration again. this is horribly messy and terribly written but nonetheless enjoy!
Snow fell steadily outside the Harrington home, muffling the usual sounds of Hawkins under a thick, sparkling blanket.
The rooftops were capped in white, the snowdrifts shimmering under the glow of streetlamps. Icicles hung from the edges of the roof, catching the twinkle of the colorful Christmas lights that Steve had painstakingly strung up a week ago, with the help of 6 year old Ethan’s enthusiastic, yet, chaotic help.
Each light blinked in perfect rhythm, painting the snow below in shifting hues of red, green, and gold. Through the fogged-up windows, the warm golden light of the Christmas tree spilled onto the lawn, offering a glimpse of the cozy world within.
Inside, the kitchen was a war zone of holiday cheer. Flour clung to nearly every surface—the countertops, the floor, and even the stool where little 4 year old Sadie stood, perched like a determined little artist. It dusted the tip of her nose and her wild curls, making her look like a miniature mad scientist as she meticulously squeezed green frosting onto a gingerbread man.
Her tongue poked out in focused concentration, her small hands gripping the frosting tube as if her life depended on it. Beside her, an array of cookies lay half-finished on the counter, buried under uneven layers of sprinkles and frosting swirls. Each one was a testament to her boundless creativity, if not her precision.
“Santa loves sprinkles,” Sadie declared with absolute certainty, her little face scrunched in concentration as she scooped a generous handful of the colorful confetti-like decorations from the nearest bowl.
The sprinkles scattered across the gingerbread man with wild abandon, tumbling off the edges and onto the counter, onto the floor, and even into the air, as if they were little bursts of festive confetti.
“Santa doesn’t want to eat cookies that are all sprinkles,” Ethan countered from across the counter, his voice dripping with the kind of exasperation only a six-year-old with a perfectionist streak could muster.
He was working on a star-shaped cookie, his movements precise, deliberate. The tiny silver balls he was placing on the edges of the cookie were perfectly symmetrical, each one spaced exactly the same distance apart, as though he were an engineer and this cookie was his blueprint.
Sadie, undeterred, shot her brother a sideways glance, her lips twisting into a defiant pout. “Santa loves all cookies!” she shot back, her voice high and firm, as if daring him to challenge her further. She grabbed another handful of sprinkles, her tiny fingers clumsily but lovingly adding them to her gingerbread creation with a look of pure determination in her eyes.
Steve, who had been quietly observing the sibling exchange from his spot leaning against the fridge, let out a low chuckle, his arms crossed loosely across his chest. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he watched his children, clearly entertained by the growing battle of wills between his two little ones. “You know, Sadie,” he said, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm, “I think Ethan might have a point. That gingerbread guy looks like he just survived an explosion at a sprinkle factory.”
Sadie gasped dramatically, clutching the cookie to her chest as if Steve had just insulted her entire artistic vision. “He’s festive, Daddy!” she protested, her eyes wide with faux horror. “Santa will think he’s beautiful!”
Steve raised his hands in mock surrender, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Alright, alright. Festive, got it. You win, kiddo,” he said, backing off, but his smile never faded.
You glanced up from where you were carefully transferring a fresh batch of cookies onto the cooling rack. You’d been absorbed in your task, the warm scent of cinnamon and vanilla filling the room, but the sounds of your kids’ banter had been too amusing to ignore. You shot a smirk over at Steve, catching the tail end of his playful exchange with Sadie. “Don’t encourage them, Steve,” you said, your voice a mix of amusement and mock exasperation. “This kitchen already looks like a bomb went off in a bakery.”
Steve turned to you with that familiar, mischievous grin that always seemed to pull at your heartstrings. He pushed off the counter and sauntered over, his presence a comforting warmth that seemed to fill the space between you. As he reached you, he slipped his arms around your waist, pulling you close, his chin resting on your shoulder as he kissed the side of your neck, his lips soft against your skin.
“Oh, come on," he said, his voice a playful murmur, "It's Christmas. A little chaos is good for the soul."
The warmth of his touch and the affection in his kiss made your heart flutter, but before you could respond, you heard a chorus of groans from behind you.
"Eww, Daddy, gross!" Ethan wrinkled his nose, his six-year-old voice full of dramatic disapproval. Sadie was standing beside him, her eyes wide as she tugged at his sleeve, mimicking his disgust.
"Yeah, gross!" she added, her voice just as playful, though her face was scrunched in exaggerated annoyance. "Get a room!"
Steve pulled back slightly, his smile widening as he laughed. "Hey, you two can't appreciate true love yet," he teased, raising an eyebrow at them. "When you're older, you'll understand."
You chuckled, shaking your head as you met Ethan’s wide-eyed gaze, his expression a mix of surprise and genuine concern.
"They're right, Daddy," you teased. "We'll have to save the romance for later."
"Yeah, later!" Sadie agreed with a dramatic sigh, making a show of fanning herself with one hand, as if the display of affection had been too much to handle.
Steve gave a mock sigh of defeat, but his arms tightened around you, pulling you closer for another kiss, this time to the top of your head. "Guess we'll have to keep it PG for a little while, huh?" he murmured with a playful grin, his voice soft but full of affection.
As you hold onto his arms that wrap around you, the warmth of his embrace grounding you, you couldn't help but smile at the chaotic love that surrounded you. The kids' teasing, the laughter, and the warmth in the room-all of it felt like exactly what you needed. It was chaotic, but it was perfect.
The kitchen was, indeed, a disaster—sprinkles everywhere, frosting streaked across the table, and flour footprints leading from the counter to the floor. And yet, in the midst of the mess, there was something so perfectly Christmas about it all. You couldn’t help but shake your head fondly at the sight of your two children, Sadie with her chaotic artistic flair and Ethan with his precision, both creating their own little pieces of holiday magic in their own ways.
You let out a soft sigh, your heart swelling with a mix of warmth and contentment. This was your life now—messy, loud, and filled to the brim with joy. The kind of joy that came from every moment spent together, it was imperfect, but it was yours. And you wouldn’t change a thing.
“I suppose a little chaos is good for the soul,” you muttered, leaning into Steve’s embrace, your back resting against his torso. “But we’ll have to clean it all up before Santa comes.”
Steve’s grin widened as he kissed the top of your head. “Deal,” he said softly, his voice warm, full of affection. “But for now, let’s just enjoy it.”
And in that moment, amidst the mess, the laughter of your kids, and the hum of Christmas music playing softly in the background, you truly did. You couldn’t imagine a better way to spend Christmas Eve.
By the time the last batch of cookies had cooled, the kids had moved on to decorating with gusto. Sadie was a whirlwind of frosting and sprinkles, her hands sticky but her smile wide. Ethan’s creations, on the other hand, could have been featured in a magazine—each one neat, symmetrical, and perfect in its own way.
“Do you think Santa will like mine better?” Ethan asked as he placed a gingerbread snowman carefully on the plate.
“Santa loves everything,” you replied diplomatically, shooting Steve a look that warned him not to stir the pot.
“He’ll love Sadie’s too,” Steve added, crouching down to examine one of her creations. “Especially this one. It’s, uh… very colorful.”
Sadie beamed, clearly taking this as the highest of compliments.
Once the cookies were arranged on a plate, along with a glass of milk, the four of you moved into the living room. Ethan darted ahead to claim the best spot on the couch, while Sadie grabbed her stuffed reindeer and curled up in Steve’s lap.
Steve held up a VHS tape like it was a trophy. “Tonight’s pick: Home Alone.”
Ethan pumped a fist in the air. “Yes!”
Sadie giggled, clutching her reindeer tightly. “Kevin’s so funny!”
You settled onto the couch next to Ethan, draping a blanket over your lap as Steve popped the tape into the VCR. The kids quieted as the familiar opening music began, their eyes glued to the screen.
The living room was warm and cozy, the fire crackling softly in the hearth. The Christmas tree lights cast colorful patterns across the walls, and the faint scent of pine mingled with the sugary sweetness lingering from the kitchen.
As Kevin McCallister navigated his hijinks, Sadie giggled uncontrollably at the Wet Bandits’ antics, her laughter ringing through the room. Ethan, meanwhile, provided a running commentary.
“They’re so silly,” he said, shaking his head as Harry slipped on the icy stairs for the third time. “Why don’t they just give up?”
“That’s not the point, buddy,” Steve replied, chuckling. “They’re supposed to be silly. It’s funny.”
“Kevin’s really brave,” Sadie whispered, clutching her reindeer as Kevin faced off against the burglars. “He’s all alone, but he’s not scared.”
You smoothed her curls with a gentle hand. “He’s smart too, just like you.”
Steve caught your eye, his expression softening as he smiled at you. These moments—the quiet, ordinary ones—were the ones he cherished most.
By the time the credits rolled, Sadie was fast asleep in Steve’s lap, her tiny hand clutching the fabric of his sweater. Ethan was valiantly trying to stay awake, but his head kept nodding forward, his stubbornness no match for his exhaustion.
Steve glanced down at Sadie, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Looks like it’s bedtime for these two.”
You nodded, sharing a glance with Steve as you both made your way toward the kids. Without a word, you reached down to gently lift Ethan into your arms. He squirmed slightly, grumbling under his breath, but didn’t protest as you settled him against your chest, his head resting on your shoulder. Steve, in turn, scooped up Sadie with ease, her small body curling instinctively into his hold. She mumbled something incoherent, her voice muffled by sleep, but didn’t wake as he cradled her against him.
The two of you made your way upstairs in comfortable silence, each step echoing softly through the house. It felt like a peaceful rhythm, this simple act of carrying your kids to bed, a reminder of how much you both cherished these little moments.
You reached Ethan’s room first, carefully lowering him into his bed. He groggily shifted under the covers, his sleepy eyes flicking up at you with a mix of curiosity and exhaustion. You helped him into his pajamas, smoothing out the fabric with a practiced hand before tucking him under the covers.
“Do you think Santa’s gonna like the cookies?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep but still filled with that unmistakable childlike wonder.
Steve, who had followed you into the room, chuckled softly as he leaned against the doorframe. “He’s gonna love them. Especially that one with all the sprinkles,” he said, grinning.
Ethan let out a small giggle, his eyes already fluttering closed. “Good,” he mumbled, his face relaxing into sleep as he drifted off, his soft breathing the only sound in the room.
Meanwhile, Steve took Sadie to her room. As soon as he placed her on her bed, she curled up into her blankets, her little reindeer toy tucked under her arm. She sighed contentedly as he adjusted the covers around her, kissing her forehead gently.
“Goodnight, lovebug,” you whispered from the doorway, watching the tender moment unfold.
Sadie mumbled something sleepy and incoherent, her eyes fluttering closed as she snuggled deeper into her pillow. “Goodnight,” she whispered back, her voice already soft with sleep.
As you and Steve stood in the doorway for a moment, watching your kids drift off into peaceful slumber, a sense of quiet satisfaction settled over you both. The house was still, the Christmas lights outside casting a gentle glow through the windows. Everything felt right. You turned to Steve, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “They’re going to be so excited when they wake up tomorrow.”
He nodded, his arm naturally finding its way around your waist as you both quietly left the room. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure they’ll be up before the sun is,” he said, his voice a mixture of amusement and fondness.
You smiled up at him, leaning into his side as the two of you headed back downstairs, the soft hum of Christmas music filling the air around you. It was a quiet night, just the two of you, in the calm after the chaos. And as the two of you settled back into the warmth of the living room, the love and laughter of the night still lingering in the air, you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of contentment. Christmas was here, and your family was exactly where they belonged.
“Think they’ll notice if we eat one?” Steve asked, breaking off a corner of a gingerbread man with a playful grin. He popped it into his mouth, chewing slowly as if savoring the moment.
You looked at him over the top of the cookie jar, raising an eyebrow. “Not unless you want to explain why there are bites taken out of the cookies they spent hours decorating.”
Steve shrugged, his eyes glinting with mischief as he reached for another cookie. “Eh, they’ll never know. Besides, Santa can always come up with his own cookies.”
You smirked, swatting his hand away as you grabbed one for yourself. “I’m pretty sure Santa’s going to have a sugar high with how much we’ve put out for him.”
He laughed, popping a piece of cookie into his mouth. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. I mean, we’ve done all the hard work, haven’t we?”
You took a bite of your own cookie, sighing in contentment. “True. These are way better than store-bought.”
Steve’s grin widened as he leaned in to kiss your cheek. “I think we’ve officially earned it. We’re doing all the Christmas magic around here.”
You laughed as Steve pulled you into his arms as the fire crackled softly behind you. The glow of the Christmas tree bathed the room in warmth, and Frank Sinatra’s “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” played faintly in the background.
As you leaned against him, the quiet of the moment settled over you like a blanket.
"This is it, you know," Steve said suddenly, his voice low and serious. His eyes were soft, distant in a way, as if he were taking in the entire scene-the glowing lights, the quiet of the house, the warmth of it all.
You looked up at him, your eyebrows furrowing slightly. "What is?" you asked, curious but not entirely sure what he meant.
"This," he said again, his gaze sweeping across the room, lingering for a moment on the kids' cookies on the counter, the half-empty mugs of hot chocolate, the soft Christmas lights casting a warm glow over the space. Then, his gaze landed back on you, his expression tender.
“The kids, the house, you. Everything I ever wanted. It's right here."
The way he said it-so genuine, so full of admiration-caught you off guard. Your chest tightened with emotion, and for a moment, you couldn't find the right words.
You reached up instinctively, cupping his cheek, feeling the stubble there beneath your palm, the warmth of him as you held him close.
"You deserve it, Steve," you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. "Every bit of it." You didn't need to elaborate. You knew what he meant.
Steve's gaze softened even further, a look in his eyes you could only describe as reverent.
Slowly, he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment as if savoring the feeling of being with you in this quiet, perfect moment. When he pulled back, he looked at you, his eyes filled with something deeper, something that made your heart swell.
"I don't know how I got so lucky," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
"But I don't think I'll ever be able to thank you enough for this. For us." His hand slid down to your waist, pulling you gently against him. He didn't rush it, just held you there, his lips grazing against yours in a kiss that was soft, slow-like he was trying to memorize the feeling of being close to you.
You smiled, your chest tight with affection. "I love you.”
There was a quiet stillness between you both, a peacefulness that wrapped around you like the softest blanket. The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of Christmas music drifting from the speakers and the distant sound of snow falling outside. But in this moment, nothing else mattered.
You were together. The life you had, the love you shared-it was everything, and it was yours.
Steve's hand gently brushed the back of your neck, and he kissed you again, his lips soft, lingering. It was a kiss that said more than words ever could-more than any ‘thank you' or 'I love you' could ever express.
You had everything. And you wouldn't change a single thing.
thank you so much for reading! please like/reblog or comment if you did, it would be greatly appreciated. have a great day and a happy holidays!!
Summary: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Fe!Reader -> When Jake gets a call asking to pick you up from the hospital, it's safe to say he's confused. Especially considering neither of you were known for getting along with the other.
Disclaimer: Enemies to lovers, brother's best friend, descriptions of being ill (nothing fully specified, just fainting a lot, low blood sugar and hormones), swearing, fluff, steamy moments, he takes care of you. This has been in my w.i.p for a while now so it's kinda a long one. Not Proof Read.
It was safe to say Jake was confused to find out he was your emergency contact.
It was known to most people in the town that you and Jake weren’t exactly the best of friends. The hatred started all back when he was brought into Top Gun the first time round. Before he suddenly became the best, of the best of the best. And each year he came back, it only got worse.
Neither of you would be surprised if everyone in San Diego knew about how much you and Jake didn’t get along.
So, yeah. Getting a call from a Nurse called Emma telling him he needed to come and pick you up from the hospital…he was confused.
He’d spent most of the day training the new recruits at Top Gun. He was on base when he got the call, but twenty minutes later, he was parked outside the hospital and was being shown to your room.
“She’s to take two of these every six hours for the next three days. If she has any drastic changes; dizziness, nausea, vomiting, etc. Bring her back. But she should be okay.”
He hadn’t even been told what had happened.
Then he saw you.
On a typical day, your hair was either up or down. You typically wore bright colours since the kids in your class like to point them out and name them. And even at the end of the week when you’d walk into the Hard Deck, Penny already having your drink waiting for you, and you’d look tired and ready to go to bed, you were still…bright. Put together.
But from where he was standing, you were dressed in grey sweats and a Top-Gun hoodie. Most likely, you thought it was your brother’s. But from the worn hole around the edge of it let Jake know it was his. One your brother had never returned to him.
You looked…like you needed to be comforted.
Your hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail at the base of your skull. Any hints of make-up had been long washed away. Your nail polish was chipped, if not already peeled from your nails.
Finally slipping your shoes on, you stood slowly. You looked like you needed to sleep for a year, and maybe take another nap for eight months.
“Just sign here and here and then you’re free to go.”
Jake watched as the nurse’s words just about registered in your ears before you slowly picked the pen up from her hand and signed your name at the bottom of the paper.
Reaching to grab the rest of your stuff, Jake almost swooped forwards. “I’ve got it.”
You just nodded. “Thanks.”
Any other day, you would have told him you could do it yourself and tell him to fuck off.
He picked up your overnight bag and, with a hand at the bottom of your back, led you out of the hospital.
“This way.”
You followed him back to his car and once he knew you were safe inside the passenger seat, he rounded the car and got into his seat.
“I did tell them just to call me a cab. You can just drop me off down the road. You don’t need to-”
“I’m not letting you walk home.” He told you. “What’s your address?”
Part of Jake wished you’d fight him more about walking home. At least that way he’d know you were actually okay. He still would have driven you home, but…he wanted you back.
Typing your address into his phone, he followed the sat-nav.
By the time he pulled up outside your house, you were asleep. He waited for five minutes, letting you sleep whilst he researched and read the prescription you’d been given.
Then he looked up at your house. You had to have a spare key.
Carefully, he left his car and walked up your path. He looked in all the typical places until he found a small patch of wood from your porch coming loose. Inside was your key.
So, opening your door and carrying your things inside, he came back for you.
Unbuckling your seatbelt, he placed one of your arms around his neck before placing his own arms around your back and under your legs.
“It’s okay. Go back to sleep.”
And you did.
Shutting the door to his car with his back, he carried you into your house, shutting your front door with his foot before taking you into your bedroom and laying you on top of your sheets. Looking around, he found a basket of blankets just under your window.
However, as he covered you up, he checked your temp with the back of his hand. You seemed okay.
Then you reached for him.
It was only for a few seconds, but you held his hand before your body fell back to sleep.
Before he left your room, Jake got you a glass of water and left your window on a latch. And then he stayed.
Kicking off his boots by the door, he locked everything up around your home before laying down on top of the guest bed with a million and one questions circling around his head.
Why was he your emergency contact? What had happened? Why didn’t anyone else tell him you were in the hospital for, clearly, more than a couple of hours?
You spent the next two days in and out of consciousness. The hospital told Jake not to worry and that it was a good sign you were sleeping. He’d wake you every couple of hours and give you your tablets.
And each time, you’d wake up with the same confusion of how and why he was in your house. And then you’d remember. And apologise. And thank him. Before he’d tell you to lay back down and get some rest.
By the time you came round, you woke up to texts pinging on your phone.
How could you not tell me you were dating someone?
We SERIOUSLY need to catch up about this when you’re back in.
Your boyfriend called the school. Why is this how I’m finding out you’re sick?
Get better soon, honey xoxo
Also, don’t worry about the kids. I’ve got your class covered.
One of your fellow-teacher best friends. You and her had joined the school as teachers in the same year. She had been away on a cruise for the last two weeks.
Slowly, everything that had happened over the last two days came flooding back to you. They had called Jake. He had come to get you at the hospital. He kept waking you up. Had he stayed that whole time? Was he the one to call your school?
Pulling yourself from your bed and heading to the bathroom, you caught a look of yourself in the mirror. You looked…rough. And also the exact same as you had when you’d left the hospital. Maybe there was a little more colour in your cheeks.
And you did feel better.
The room felt still and you didn’t feel like throwing up all your insides out, despite being unable to do so.
Drying your hands on the towel, you made your way through your home. Things were…tidy. Militarily so. The last time your place, although tidy, had looked militarily tidy had been when your brother had visited you before he got deployed again.
So, either, he was here now. Jake was still here. Or you had a ghost haunting your house that just so happened to be in the Navy.
Walking down the stairs, you found a pair of boots at the bottom of your stairs. They definitely weren’t yours.
Then you heard someone in the kitchen. The smell of fresh bread and chicken noodle soup wafted through your home.
It was a minute or two before Jake spotted you. It felt like a fever dream, watching him in your kitchen, dressed normally, a towel slung over his shoulder as he slid the bread buns from the tray to a cooling rack.
“Oh, hey. You’re awake.”
You nodded. “Did you cook?”
“How are you feeling?” Jake made his way over to you, his hand coming to touch your forehead and cheeks. You swatted his hands away. You could have sworn you saw him smile after you did it.
“Get off me, I’m fine.”
Jake smiled as he watched you make your way to sit down on the opposite side of the kitchen island. You looked way better than you had done when he saw you in the hospital.
“What day is it?”
“Tuesday.” He told you, continuing to slide all but one of the bread buns onto the cooling back. The final one, he dropped onto a plate before dishing out a bowl of the soup.
“Eat up. You’re gonna need your strength.”
You looked at the food in front of you. “You made this?”
“I made it.”
You looked at him sceptically. “Is this how you plan to kill me? She was weak, your honour. I just wanted to help her.”
“Why would I take care of you for three days and then kill you? It’d be easier if I did it in three days.”
“So you did think about it.”
Jake rolled his eyes and handed you a fork. “Just eat.”
You couldn’t lie, it was one of the best meal’s you’d had in a long time. And as you ate, you looked around your home. Your books had been tidied away and back onto your shelves. All except two. One you were part way through reading and one that was…almost finished. But not by you.
You didn’t notice as Jake watched you take everything in. Your books, your pots of pens. You dish towels, your spices and other baking ingredients. Some had even been put into the jars you had been meaning to fill back up. Then you noticed the smaller things. Like how he’d put up the wooden signs in your kitchen you’d been planning to do for months, and how he’d cleaned…everything.
It looked like he’d done a complete renovation of your place whilst you’d been knocked out.
Then you noticed the pile of papers on your kitchen counter.
The English and maths tests you’d given to your class a few weeks ago. You hadn’t finished marking them.
But Jake had.
You took the top paper and looked it over.
“Did you mark these?” You flipped through the pages. Not only were they marked, but they were marked correctly. They even had a sticker on each of “well done” or “great stuff”.
You heard Jake chuckle. “I am a teacher, too, you know.”
“You’re a…Top Gun instructor. Not a third-grade teacher.”
“I do suppose I am over qualified to help but-”
You shook your head. You hadn’t meant for it to sound so insulting.
“No, I-I mean, thank you. But you didn’t have to do this. Any of this.” You gestured around your home. “You already did enough bringing me home.”
“I wanted to ask you about that. Why was it me that brought you home? Surely you have people who you actually like, to be your emergency contact?”
Tyler watched as you fell silent and searched for the words to tell him.
“You’re…not.” Taking a breath, you looked up at him. “They…they tried a couple of people. They couldn’t make it. One of the nurses knows Penny so called and asked if she had anyone’s number who I knew. I did try and tell them to just call me a cab.”
He let your words settle over him.
“Who?”
“What?”
“Who else did you call? Who didn’t pick up?”
You listed them off. Most were people in your family and a couple of friends.
“I would have fought them on it but-”
“I’m glad you called me.” Jake admitted you. And it struck you. “Give me your phone.”
You slid it over to him. And he called his number from your phone.
“If anything like that happens again, I want you to call me.”
“Jake-”
He shook his head. “You’re not fighting me on this. Fight me on everything else. Anything else. But not this. Call me.”
So you just nodded. “Okay.”
“Good. And eat up, too.”
You did. “You say that as if we’ve got some place to be.”
“We do.”
“Where?”
“You’ll see.”
Twenty minutes later he practically shoved you into your bathroom en-suit telling you to shower and get changed.
“I thought my nurse was meant to be kind.”
“I am kind!” He said. “And I’m not a nurse. And I’m a friend.”
You laughed a little at that one.
“I’ve seen the inside of your junk drawer. I’m your friend. I have to be, or else I don’t have a word for it.”
He did have a point on that. Your junk drawer…even you hadn’t seen the inside of that thing in at least a year.
So, after getting dressed, taking the last of your antibiotic and forcing some kind of health smoothie Hangman had made you with the blender he found at the back of your cupboard, you found yourself back in the passenger seat of his car.
“Where are we going?”
He said nothing, just smiled and pulled the aviators from his collar and put them on before starting his engine and for a moment you wondered if that was what he did when he got into his jet. Flash his million-dollar smile before starting his jet engine and taking off into the sky. For a moment you wondered what it would be like to watch him land and look over at you just like he did.
But then you forced yourself back to reality.
This was Jake Seresin, aka Hangman. Given that name because he hangs his team out to dry.
But he didn’t leave you.
In fact, he was the only one to show up.
And the first to stay.
You read the road signs as best as you could until you realised where he was taking you.
“You know there is a beach like ten minutes from my house.”
He nodded. “I know. But you’re there all the time. You’ve seen that patch a thousand times. This is different.”
“How? Isn’t all sand the same?”
He shrugged, still smiling. “Maybe. But they always say the beach can work a thousand miracles. Come on.”
It was a five minute walk to the bottom.
“Is it usually this empty?”
He looked around. “There’s usually a couple more people, but yeah. This is usually it. Not many people drive this far down. They think it’s not the best but to me…couldn’t be more perfect.”
“Huh.”
“What?” Jake asked, looking at you.
You continued looking out to the water. You shook your head. “No, nothing. Just…never thought you’d be the sentimental type.”
“Well…I’m not.”
You looked at him.
“To most people.”
It was at that moment you felt a small crackle. Either in your chest or your gut, something crackled. And you felt the blanket of hatred you had for Jake Seresin start to fade.
His call sign might be ‘Hangman’, but you had a strong feeling that when it came to those he cared about…he tried his best to stick around. And even if he couldn’t, he’d make a memory of them to last a lifetime.
For the rest of the day, you spent most of your time lying on the beach watching the waves or reading your book, which he had packed. And it was…one of the best days you’d had in a long time.
“Why are you doing this?”
“What?” Moving the book from his face, Jake looked at you from beneath his shades as you lay on your stomach beside him.
“This? Less than a week ago I’m pretty sure people would have made money on you and I killing each other. Why are you helping me?”
“Because you need it. And I’m pretty sure anyone else would believe you when you say that you don’t.”
“And you don’t believe me?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I know you.”
You scoffed. “What do you mean you know me?”
You watched as he smiled and tried to kill the butterflies in your stomach.
“Y/n.”
You were still getting used to the fact he was using your first name. Usually it was your last, or some sweet nickname like ‘Sweetheart’ that would grate through your entire body.
“You spend most of your time making sure everyone feels okay and is doing okay. The only time you actually let your feelings know is when you’re taking shit to me. You deserve a break. You deserve to take one before your body forces you to have one.”
Hearing his words as he spoke, you slowly sat up until your back was to the water and you were fully facing him.
“Plus, your brother asked me to look out for you. And I’d rather not suffer his wrath again.”
Okay, that had to be complete bull. Your brother’s wrath when it came to protecting you, that was true. But why ask Jake of all people given he knew your history and track record with him.
And what did he mean by again?
You barely had time to ask all of your questions before you watched him stand up, throwing his book closed to the ground. You mentally scolded yourself for letting your eyes wander all over him.
You weren’t blind to the fact Hangman looked, well, like him. A daring smile, enough charm to charm even the most sourest of people and the body to go with it. But before today, you had been immune. At least, you considered yourself immune since the blanket of hatred that you held for him seemed to block plenty out.
Worst of all, he caught you.
You knew he caught you because of the smirk on his face and the chuckle that escaped his broad chest.
“Shut up.” You groaned, forcing yourself to stand. “I’ve been in the hospital. My immune system is temporarily weakened.”
“It isn’t the first time I’ve caught you, Sweetheart.” Seresin drawled just as you looked at him both annoyed and confused. And maybe slightly offended that he thought you had, before today, purposefully checked him out.
But he just laughed. “Come on, I want to show you something.”
“But what about our stuff?”
“It’ll be safe. I know most of the people on this beach, they’ll make sure nothing happens to it.”
Taking your hand in his, he led you down the beach, under a small cove and through to the otherside where some rocks were covered in seaweed and sand.
And for a while, you and Jake explored the place. You’d never been this far down the beach so finding out it existed was a bonus. Finding seaweed to pop and watching the crabs crawl across some of the rocks was fun.
You’d never stop to take a break. Straight out of college, you’d begun teaching. It had been in your home town until your brother got accepted into Top Gun. And, with an internalised fear of losing him, you moved out to San Diego. You knew after a while he’d be stationed somewhere else, but you’d managed to find a home there. And when your brother was stationed not too far from his Top Gun base, the rest of your family moved closer.
Since then, it has been helping them get settled, tutoring their children after spending all day teaching. It was sleepless nights spent alone at home, living off the quickest food you could make because you simply didn’t have time to cook. It was running yourself so far into the ground that the one person who you never thought would even step foot into your home was the only one to show up and give you enough space to actually relax.
So watching crabs walk along the rocks was fun.
And hearing your name, and calling out his name above the waves, without hatred or malice behind it, was fun, too.
“Come and look at this.”
Carefully, you made your way over the rocks, trying your best not to slip and hit your head. And you did so, until the last rock before you joined him.
Letting out a small yell as you reached out to try and catch yourself, he threw out his hand and caught you.
“You okay?”
“Fine.”
“Can you stand?”
You lowered yourself to a lower rock, still holding onto his arms before letting go and allowing yourself to take his hand and help you up the rest of the way.
“What am I looking at?”
It was a starfish.
The rest of the day, you and Jake explored the shore, skipped rocks on the calming water, sunbathed and even took a swim in the water.
By the time the sun had set, you found yourself sitting with him on the hood of his car, a pizza box between you both, watching the planes fly from the airport.
A week ago, if anyone had told you that you would have done any of this, especially with Hangman, you would never have believed them.
“Thank you, for your help.” You blurted out as you watched another plane fly into the sky.
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“Yes, I do.” You wanted him to listen to you. “Given our track record for being nice to each other, I wouldn’t have been surprised if you didn’t turn up at the hospital to bring me home. But you did. And you made sure I didn’t fall into some kind of coma after it. And today you gave me the first day, I think, ever, where I’ve not done a thousand things for somebody else and enjoyed what I was doing. So, I do need to thank you for that.”
“Are you saying…you…like me?”
You couldn’t stop the smile on your face, but you tried to force it away. “Okay.”
“No, no. I mean, this is a miracle.”
“You’re tolerable.” You corrected him.
Smiling, he took another slice of pizza. “You like me.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You like me. I am now your friend. We are now friends.”
You shook your head, holding in a laugh. “Just shut up and eat your pizza.”
It was safe to say after that, that everyone was shocked at the dynamic between both you and Hangman.
They had all gotten so used to the insults and borderline flirty comments you’d both sling each other's way, it had become like white noise. So, when it was gone and replaced with laughter and smiling, it gave everyone a terrified feeling.
“I’m guessing they’re not here yet.”
Penny shook her head as she poured another pint. With a smile, she nodded over to the other end of the bar. “They’re over there.”
Twenty minutes later, it had become like a social study for everyone in the bar to watch you and Jake.
“Do you think they fucked? Got all that pent up energy out?”
Coyote shook his head. “No, he would have told me. How long have they been like this? Maybe they’ve been hypnotised into liking each other?”
Rooster shook his head. “The hypnotist left like three months ago. Maybe they’re…faking it. Do you think they heard us talking about them last week? About who would kill who first? Maybe they’re teaming up so nobody wins?”
Penny shook her head as she wiped down the bar. “Well, whatever it is, it’s a nice change. She looks a lot happier. They both do. Who knows, maybe next we’ll be holding a wedding here.”
“Not their wedding?” Rooster seemed shocked. “Penny, they were about three insults away from killing each other three weeks ago.”
“Love is blind, as they say.”
For the rest of the night, people watched you and Jake sat together. Seresin and Y/l/n. Hangman and Sweetheart.
And then they watched as you walked home.
Together.
It was safe to say everyone was shocked to their core. For the first time ever, there had been a night where both you and Jake had not only been in the bar at the same time but had also sat together for the whole night, and not once killed each other.
Verbally or otherwise.
“You know, you’re not as big of a dick as I thought you were Seresin. Tonight was a nice change.”
“I have been known to be kind once in a while.”
“Keep this up, you might be fit to see another day.”
“So might you.” Jake replied as he watched you climb the steps of your front porch. “I meant what I said, about taking a break. You deserve one, Y/n.”
You took in what he said with a small nod before adding. “You know, it’s still freaking me out, you even know my first name.”
“If it helps, the nurse had to tell me.” He said. “Guess I’ve called you by your last name so much, I forgot your first.”
“Is that why you keep saying it? So you don’t forget?”
He shrugged, a slight smirk on his face. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“You know, it is okay if you forget it once in a while.”
Jake smiled a little at that. “How could I forget the name of the woman who once dumped three shots of tabasco sauce into my drink?”
“Hey, you can’t prove that was me.”
“Hey, the bottle was in your hand.”
You unlocked your door. “I still plead not guilty.”
“Whatever you say, Sweetheart. Sure you’re okay on your own?”
You nodded. “I’ll be fine. Besides, don’t you have an early start in the morning?”
He nodded. “Even so. Call me.”
“Goodnight, Jake.”
“Night, Sweetheart.”
He waited for you to lock your doors before he got into his car and drove back home.
The following weeks continued the same way. If anybody who was anybody saw you and Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin together, in the same room, talking. They would stop and watch.
Never in a million years did anyone expect you and Jake to talk, never mind actually become friends.
Each Friday, you met each other at the bar. You both have a drink. You’d both sit and talk. Maybe some of your old ways were still there with each other, but there was less “25 to life” about it and more “affection” in the words you both said.
However, it nearly gave people an aneurysm when they thought you were both actually dating.
Two people who were thirty seconds away from physically fighting each other every day had gone from, well, that, to…to…to dating?
It couldn’t be…could it?
And the rumours that had been spread by one of the bar regulars, after she’d spotted both of you grocery shopping together before spotting Jake’s car leave from the top of your road hours later, were only fueled when they heard about what happened at the school.
It had been months since you fainted and you had been getting better. You felt better, you felt like you had more energy. And with Jake’s help you started to feel like a person again. A person who wasn’t wholly consumed by their work constantly, whether they were ten miles from the building or not.
Except, one morning, you woke up and felt…off.
Something wasn’t right. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but something didn’t feel right. Maybe your period was coming early. It has been doing that lately. Surprising you when you least expected or wanted it.
Just a few weeks ago, it had arrived early once again. And the pain you’d felt in the days before nearly floored you. And when you hadn’t showed up at the bar like you’d agreed to with Jake, he came looking for you. That night he’d taken a quick trip to the grocery store after you told him what happened. He looked after you. Made sure you were okay. The next day, he drove you back to the store and you stocked up on supplies and snacks.
It was also later that night when he surprised you by making dinner.
Opening up your fridge, you took one of the healthy smoothies that Jake had left you the last time he’d come round, before packing it into your bag and heading to work.
Your queasy feelings only got worse. And then…you felt it.
Sticking on a documentary for your class, you took your phone and slowly made your way towards the teachers bathroom, stopping off at the next class.
“Can you keep an eye on them for a couple of minutes?”
Your best friend nodded. “Course’ honey.” Before asking her TA to go next door.
“You okay?”
You tried your best to look okay, despite everything you were feeling inside.
“Yeah. Yeah. I will be.”
As the TA headed next door, you made your way towards the bathroom, then dialled his number.
“Hey,” Jake said as he answered. “Just about to call you. They’ve got a showing of The Wizard of Oz tonight at the theatre, if you wanted to go-”
“Jake.”
“Are you okay? What’s happened? Is everything okay? Is it your brother-”
“Every…” You swallowed thickly before carefully lowering yourself onto the floor with your back against the wall, and unlocking the door. “Everything’s okay, it’s just…”
Jake had a strong feeling he knew what was happening. “I’m on my way. Where are you?”
“School bathroom. Teacher’s.”
“Okay.” You could hear him leaving his office and getting into his car. “Is the door unlocked?”
You didn’t answer.
“Y/n.”
“I’m here.”
Jake breathed. “Y/n, Sweetheart. Is the door unlocked to the bathroom?”
“Yes.”
“Does anyone else know you’re there?”
You explained what happened as best as you could.
“Just, please get here soon?”
“I will, Sweetheart. I promise. I’m almost there.”
You didn’t know how long had passed but it wasn’t long before you heard your name being called out by Jake.
Pulling the door open a little from the floor, Jake ran towards it and peeked inside. There you were, sat with your knees close to your chest, against the wall.
He stepped inside before crouching down.
“I-I’m sorry I called. I just-”
Checking you over, Jake cupped your face. “Hey, no. No. I’m glad you called me. You can always call me. How are you feeling?”
“Dizzy. It’s better now but still like the room is spinning. And I’m not harnessed in.”
“Okay. Do you think you can stand?”
You gave a small nod. “Maybe.”
Helping you up, Jake took your hands in his and you stood up.
“Come on, we’re getting you checked out at the ER.”
You would have fought him on it but considering the last time it happened they kept you in overnight, you went willingly.
Thankfully, you didn’t pass out even when the dizziness and the nausea felt like they were getting worse.
By the time the doctor saw you, she did all of the routine checks before turning and looking at Jake and back to you.
“Is there a possibility you could be pregnant? I’ve seen a lot of couples come in here with similar symptoms and-”
Oh shit.
“Oh, no. I-I’m not. And he’s not-”
“We’re- We’re not together.”
A few more awkward moments like that filled the next couple of hours until both yourself and Jake seemed to give up on correcting people.
By the time they discharged you, they told you your blood sugar levels had dropped and your hormones were beginning to change with your cycle. Along with the advice to try and reduce stress.
Driving you home that night, Jake made a detour. Towards the diner and then towards the beach along The Hard Deck.
It was quiet for a Tuesday evening, but yourself and Jake just sat and ate dinner whilst watching the water push in and pull out constantly across the sand until eventually, laying your head on his shoulder, he placed his arm around your own.
“Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me.”
“Thank you for calling me. Are you feeling any better?”
You nodded, gratefully. “Just a little tired, that's all.”
“I’ll drop you off at home, soon, if you’d like.”
You nodded then looked at him. And before you could stop yourself, you asked him; “Would you stay with me? Tonight? If you can’t- or if you don’t want to-”
“I’ll stay.”
“A-are you…sure?”
Jake nodded, a faint smile on his lips. “I’ll stay with you.”
You didn’t know what else to say other than thank you, so pressing a light kiss to his cheek, you said as much. “Thank you.”
You could have sworn you saw him blush as he smiled and looked down. “Anytime.”
It was odd really, laying beside the man you thought you’d be telling your kids about when you were older. About how much you hated him and how much he hated you, and why neither of you could sit next to each other at the Thanksgiving table every year.
Jake had decided to stay in your guest bedroom, but the minute you heard him lay down in his bed, you felt…awake. Not wide awake. You were still tired. But you weren’t settled. Something inside of you wanted to be closer to him.
So, after an hour of laying on your back, staring at your ceiling and listening to the distant shore line, with the odd rumble of a car’s engine running up and down the road every now and again, you got up.
Jake had left his door open. If you shouted for him, or needed him, he would be able to hear you. Usually, he’d be out like a light, waking up at the smallest of noises. But this time, he couldn’t sleep.
Instead, his mind was going over the fact you had called him when you were at work. And the fact that he enjoyed it when you were with him. That he was the one you chose to lean on. And the fact that he wished he was down the hall with you at that moment, then lay alone in the dark in your guest bedroom.
Then he heard you.
From the dim, moonlit hallway, he saw you.
“Hey, everything-”
“Can I stay with you?”
Already half way up, Jake paused for a second. Then nodded. “‘Course. Come ‘ere.”
Walking over, Jake pulled the covers back and you climbed under them before feeling his arm wrap around you. And your arms came around him, one over his shoulder and round his neck, the other by his side.
Instinctively, he pulled one of your legs across him and held it there whilst his other arm remained securely around your back, holding you to him.
“Is this okay?”
He felt you nod and he nervously swallowed.
“Are you okay, Sweetheart?”
In a quiet voice, your breath against his neck, you answered. “Better now.”
Pressing a kiss to your head, you nuzzled into each other.
“Good.”
Not too long after that, you both fell asleep.
And when you both woke up, neither of you wanted to move.
If this had somehow happened six months ago, you probably would have thrown each other to the other side of the room. But it wasn’t six months ago. And you’d come to know Jake as…Jake. Who took care of his friends, and made sure everyone was okay and was kind and caring and…a lot of other things you didn’t want to think about at six o’clock in the morning.
And the way he was looking at you at that moment made you think about other things that you didn’t want to think about.
“What are you thinking about?” Jake asked after a few moments of watching you study him.
“That you need to stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you…like me.”
Jake smiled. “I do like you, Sweetheart.”
“Jake.”
Then, for a moment, everything felt…serious. His tired smile dropped a little from his lips as he looked at you.
“Do you trust me?”
You felt your heartbeat pick up in your chest and for a moment, you wondered if he could hear it.
“Yes.”
Tucking your hair behind your ear, you felt him cup your cheek. “Y/n…”
He seemed nervous.
“Can I kiss you?”
If you had let yourself think about it long enough, you never would have guessed Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, who went after whatever, and usually whoever he wanted, would ask if he could kiss. You’d always assumed that he was so confident in life and with women that he’d know. That he’d see the small signals. Or even the loud ones. And just…kiss a girl.
But no.
He asked.
And something in your gut jumped.
So you answered; “Yes.”
Nervously, he licked his lips before he leaned in. And kissing him felt…weird. Because it felt…normal. Unlike anything else you’d felt in your life.
You managed to pull him closer, until he was leaning above you. “Is this okay?”
“Yes.”
From there, the softer, searching kisses slowly faded away and turned into something more. More wanting, more needing. Feeling his hands move down your body before he gripped your hips, and pulled you closer to him and carefully slid them back up until the fabric of your t-shirt began to bunch together.
Feeling him press into your thigh, you let out a small noise that was only swallowed by his kiss. Swiftly, he pulled you across him, your legs straddling his lap before he sat up. Once more, he pushed the hair from your face and took you in, in the rising daylight.
No words were spoken out loud, but everything was said.
Leaning down, you kissed him again before letting your own hands move down his chest and towards the hem of his t-shirt. Except, just as he pulled you closer by your waist, his hips rocking into you, you both jolted at the sound of his alarm.
“Sorry.” Jake quickly turned and switched it off. You were both going to be late for work.
“If we don’t get ready now, we’re gonna be late.”
Looking at him, you didn’t know fully what to say. It had just been the hottest make out session of your life, with a guy six months ago people would have bet money on you killing. And you’d both been cock-blocked by his alarm.
“I’ll meet you here, after work?”
That made you smile. “Okay.”
Then he did, too. “Okay.” Before throwing his phone to the side and pulling you down to kiss him. But as you pulled away, he groaned, trying to pull you back to continue but you walked a good three feet away from the bed.
“Can’t be late, Hangman. You’ve got pilots to teach.”
With a coy smile, he was standing in front of you within seconds before lifting you onto the dresser behind you. This time, it was you trying to pull him back when he stopped kissing you. But he just stood back and let out a small chuckle.
“We’ve both got students to teach, Sweetheart. We stay here any longer, they’re both gonna miss us.”
One final kiss to your lips, he stood back and practically ran away before you could grab hold of him.
Twenty minutes later, he was showered and dressed for the day and had poured you a coffee to-go as well as packed you another smoothie and grabbed your lunch for you before you’d come downstairs, dressed and began loading the last of the exam papers into your bags.
He dropped you back off at work, however, when you realised he was waiting in the parking lot for you to enter, you left your bags by the pillar and walked back. With his window already being down, you leaned in and kissed him, feeling his hand cup the back of your head.
“See you tonight?”
“See you tonight.”
The day for either of you couldn’t have felt longer. And by the time Jake came walking through your back door, dropping his bag onto one of the pantry hooks, he couldn’t have been more relieved to see you.
And for a moment, he just watched you as you sat on the sofa with crossed legs, flipping through a textbook and making notes. Softly, he approached you from behind before wrapping his arms around your shoulders.
You smiled.
“Hey, Sweetheart.”
“You’re back.”
You felt him relax against you. “Finally.”
“There’s some food. I made you a plate in the oven.”
He pressed a kiss to your head before walking towards the kitchen. “I would have cooked.”
“I know, but I needed the distraction.”
Waltzing back inside holding onto the warm plate, he smirked as he popped a fork-full of veg into his mouth. You could already feel your cheeks heating and from the look on his face, he could see it clear as day.
“Distraction from what?”
“Nothing in particular.”
“Nothing, huh?”
At some point, he put down his plate and rounded back to the sofa, standing behind you before pressing soft kisses into the side of your neck.
“Jake.”
The way you said his name went straight to his dick.
As he moved your hair, you leaned to grant him more access. A satisfied smirk came to his lips as he watched your legs move to straighten out.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day, Sweetheart.”
Eventually, you felt Jake move away but he appeared again, lowering himself in front of you. Taking the textbooks and notes from you and placing them on the coffee table behind him, he leaned forward and pulled you in to kiss him.
“Have you been thinking about me?”
Feeling his hand move up your thigh and towards your shorts, you leaned in closer. “Have you, Sweetheart?”
“Yes,” your voice came out breathy.
“Is this okay?”
You nodded.
“I need words, darlin’.”
“Yes. Yes, it’s okay.”
As time passed, the small part of you that was still able to function started to ask questions. Like why you had hated him so much in the first place? And how you almost missed…him.
And by the time you woke up in the morning, Jake practically wrapped around you like a boa constrictor, you had come to a new conclusion.
You didn’t hate him anymore.
You hadn’t hated him for a long time.
All opinions you had of him, especially after a night of mindblowing sex, had been shot out of the water.
Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin was no longer the man you thought he was. The man you had come to know and lo-
The man you had come to know was a man that showed up. And stayed. He was someone that took care of the people he cared about. He was someone that would fix things in your home without you asking. He was someone that cooked meals, even if it was almost one o’clock in the morning and you were craving a grilled cheese. He was someone that, even after sex, took care of you in a way nobody had ever even thought about doing before. He was someone that you could trust and respect, and did so.
Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin was a man that had proved your theories wrong and he was a man that you realised you were falling for.
And in some ways, that scared you. And in some ways, it didn’t.
Because, for as much as he could be so sure of himself. So bold. So confident, it bordered on cocky. You were also sure of him. Sure that, if he was feeling the same things you felt, that he wouldn’t let you hurt yourself when you fell, but rather he’d catch you.
And it, surprisingly, didn’t take him very long.
By the time you woke up in the morning and headed downstairs, freshly dressed in a worn Top Gun hoodie and a pair of sleep shorts, you started making breakfast. However, as you stood at the stove, flipping the bacon, you felt a newly familiar pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind.
Dropping his chin to your shoulder, Jake pulled you close to his chest.
“Good morning.”
“Morning’.” He drawled. “Whatcha’ cookin’?”
“Bacon and eggs. There’s also toast in the toaster.”
With a smile, Jake pressed a kiss to your exposed collar which caused you to let out a small giggle before quickly turning the stove off.
“You’ve gotta be careful, Hangman. You’ll make me burn breakfast.”
He hummed a response. “I had a couple other meals in mind.”
“Oh really? Like what?”
With his hands on your hips and his lips on your neck where you suspected he’d just left another hickey, he slowly turned you around. “I can think of one.”
Finally facing him, he kissed you as you fumbled with the last temperature gauge and turned it off. Picking you up, he carried you away from the counter near the stove to the one complete opposite.
“You’re driving me insane dressed like this.” He mumbled against your kiss. “Wearing my shirt.”
“Your shirt?” You asked as his lips moved to your neck.
Looking at you for a moment, half drunk on your kiss, he nodded. “Didn’t you know, Sweetheart? This here is mine.” Pinching some of the fabric between his fingers he shook it as he told you so.
You laughed. “No it’s not.”
He nodded. “God's honest truth. Your brother stayed at mine one night after he’d gone out drinking. Lost his shirt, don’t ask me how. Stole one of my hoodies. Never got it back.”
“How do you know this is yours?”
With a smile, Jake showed you the small hole that you’d made a little bigger over the years from when you’d get nervous. “This right here. Loose thread got caught in a cabinet I was fixing in my room. Pulled at it too hard. And…”
Jake watched as your expression changed a little, hungry for more of his touches, as he pushed his hand slowly up the inside of your- his hoodie.
A slight smirk, he pulled at the side tag and showed you. And it baffled you how you’d never noticed before.
J.H.S
“See. But, I have to say, Sweetheart. It looks better on you than it ever did me.”
And as he was looking at you, he asked you something else. “Let me take you out on a date. A real one. You know, seeing you like this…I never want to see anyone else like this but you.”
“Jake…”
“I’m being serious. Sweetheart, I want you. And not just temporarily.” Then he looked away as he said the next part. “I’d get it…if you didn’t want that. God knows you and I don’t have the best history when it comes to even getting along but-”
“I want to date you.”
He looked up at you.
“I want to date you,” you repeated. “Believe me, half of the time I don’t get it myself. How we’ve gone from one extreme to the other, but I know…I know I want you around.”
“I want you around, too.”
“So, yes.”
Jake smiled. “Yes?”
You smiled back. “Yes. Take me out on a date, Jake Seresin.”
Leaning forwards, he kissed you. And before long, your hands started to feel for the hem of his shirt before pulling it over his head.
It was safe to say, when you and Jake walked into The Hard Deck in the evening after your official first date, hand in hand before he pressed a kiss to your lips, a lot of people were shocked.
And lost a lot of money.
But Penny won it all.
She knew the minute Jake saw you, and your brother scolded him, that something would happen. After all, Hangman was known for going after what he wanted. She just never expected to have to be the one to force you to be in the same room and for that room to be a hospital.
Summary: After Jensen and Jake finish their face-off, you tell Jake how it is. He practices the art of holding himself accountable for his actions, and you get a call that would send you into a downward spiral. Putting you in jeopardy right before your surgery.
Warnings: MAIN CHARACTER DEATH Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil. Mentions of religion. JEALOUS JAKE!
Word Count: 5.1k
Author Note: WOW and we’re back baby. Another year has passed us by and we are finishing this series. Strap in for the final three episodes of this roller coaster of a series. You never know where we might just end up.
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist
The triangular theory of love is a theory developed by Robert Sternberg. In the context of interpersonal relationships, the three components of love according to the triangular theory are, intimacy, passion, and a decision/commitment component. For Jake, he felt like love was more than just a triangular theory. Love is all-encompassing in every aspect of life. And if you look closely, love can be seen all around us in all different forms.
“Bradshaw, now’s not the time man,” Jake sighed as he made his way back down the hospital hallway to your room, walking with his shoulders down and his ego battered and bruised. “I gotta fix an issue and my head’s not–” Before Jake could finish his sentence, Rooster interrupted with a crucial question he needed answered now.
“How is your mother gonna react when I show up to take your kids?” The genuine concern in Bradley’s voice was clear enough for Jake to stay on the line as he walked. “Do I need to be concerned about her calling the cops?”
“Dude,” Jake groaned to himself in frustration as he walked with purpose down the hall. He could feel his rage and frustration bubbling to the surface with every step he took. Who did this Jensen guy think he was? Who did Jake think he was? You didn’t ask for any of this and you definitely didn’t deserve his tantrum before. “She’s not gonna call the cops on you, just tell her to call me if you have any issues and get Jas to help you.”
“Your mother is a terrifying woman–” Rooster added, just to rub salt into Jake’s already existing childhood wounds.
“Well, at least she’s alive.” Jake had never regretted a sentence more in his life. The second he realised what he’d said and who he was speaking to, his heart fell straight out of his arse. “Bradshaw I didn’t mean–” Before Jake had a chance to speak, before he had a chance to explain that he wasn’t talking about Carole—he was talking about you—the line went dead.
“Fuck!” Jake looked at his phone screen to see the call had indeed been ended. He felt the panic inside his chest. The guilt.
Jake had developed a pretty uncanny ability to fuck things up. He couldn’t help himself at the moment. He was having a hard time regulating his emotions. It never had been his strong suit, but now it was worse than ever. Perhaps the idea of losing you forever was the cause. Jake couldn’t accept the possibility that there was a good to fair chance you might not walk away from this fight.
But he could see the bottom of your bed again and where your feet were underneath the breathable hospital blanket that did nothing to keep you warm. With every step Jake took in the hall, he got closer and closer to where he’d left you. And with every step he took he tried to formulate an apology that would reflect his utter sorrow. His pain. His guilt. You were the first person that deserved an apology for Jake’s actions. Bradley would just have to wait.
In hospitals, people see addiction every day. It’s shocking how many kinds of addiction exist. It would be far too easy if it were just drugs, alcohol and cigarettes people were addicted to. The hardest part about kicking an addiction is wanting to kick it. I mean we get addicted for a reason, right?
Often, too often, things start as a normal part of your life and at some point, cross the line into obsessive needs, compulsive out of out-of-control desires. It’s the high people chase. The high that makes everything else…fade away. But nothing could make Jake Seresin fade away. Nothing so far had helped you kick the addiction. Not even when you left.
The harsh reality about addiction is it never ends well. Because eventually, whatever it is that was getting you that high…stops feeling good and starts to hurt. So when the very person you were addicted to walked back into your hospital room, the hurt started all over again well and truly after the high had died down.
“Okay,” Jake stopped in his tracks when he saw that look in your eyes. Although a sense of calm washed over him the second he saw you again, he knew he was probably the last person you wanted to see after the way he behaved before. “I recognised I’m in the wrong here.” It was the look he wished he’d never been on the receiving end of again. A look of disappointment mixed with anger, hatred, and, above all, sadness. “I owe you an apology.”
“No thanks,” The tone you conveyed was sinister. There was no warmth. No love. No room for compassion or empathy. “I’m not interested in another empty apology.” You didn't even look Jake’s way. You just continued on with the little word finder you had picked up in Jensen and Jake’s absence. “If you’re done swinging your dick around in the hall like a psychopath, I need to rest.”
Jake was stunned. He wasn’t sure how to respond. He knew he deserved that. He knew he’d taken things too far. He knew he’d flown over the handlebars the second Jensen stepped into your room. But it was all out of fear of losing you. Why couldn’t you see that? Jake felt as if he could stand right in front of you and you’d look straight through him.
“Honey, don’t be like that,” Jake sighed as he took a few steps towards your bedside. The bouquet Jensen had brought you was lying haphazardly on the little bedside cupboard. “I shouldn’t have acted the way I did alright, I know, and I promise you I’m trying here.” Jake sighed as he looked at the flowers another man had gone out of his way to buy you. A dying man.
A dead man walking.
“I’m glad you’re self-aware,” You replied yet again without paying any mind to Jake’s whereabouts in your room. “Never really was your strong suit.” You murmured just loud enough for Jake to hear your mild insult. You could have said it louder, hell, you should have. But regardless of Jake’s actions…he was an addictive drug. One that made it incredibly hard to kick the habit. One you knew you’d go back to. One you wished loved you the same way you loved him.
“Jensen knocked some sense into me,” Jake tried his best to explain all the while he tried to hold back the lump in his throat. The kind of lump that brought tears and panic attacks with it. “He was kind enough to set the record straight.”
“You understand how big of a piece of shit you have to be to say what you said, right?” It was the first time your tone had changed. There was something beyond painful in the way you spoke. Something Jake had tried time and time again not to be the cause of. Heartbreak. Betrayal even. “You jealous, insecure man.”
For a second, Jake absorbed the blow. He took it on the chin like a champion because nothing you were saying was wrong. He was scared of losing the love of his life in a way that wasn’t just through marriage.
“I know,” Jake replied as he picked up the bouquet and looked around. He was looking for somewhere to put them. Somewhere to display the beauty that they emulated. Beauty that reflected you. Where could he get a jug or something to put these in? “I don’t have an excuse to give you, honey,” Jake was trying his best to stick to the honesty is the best policy crap he’d been taught as a child. “I’m just, I got so worked up when he came in here knowing more about you than I did and–”
“Jensen is a friend from group therapy,” You explained yet again. “And this is the last time I’m gonna say it before I let you run off with whatever version of a warped reality you wanna believe but I swear, there isn’t anyone else.” You sat up a little straighter in your bed as you closed your find-a-word book. “I have cancer, Jake. In what world would anyone want me?”
“You love her, don’t you? You’re in love with my wife, say it.” Jake could hear himself asking the all-important question. He could see himself standing in the hall with the man who had selflessly intertwined his life with yours in order to make you feel less alone in the world.
“Maybe–” Jake vividly heard Jensens reply as he stood staring at the tears that fell down your cheeks. Tears he was the very cause of. “Maybe I love her, but I don’t get a chance to explore that, you do though.”
“Me?” It was the sincerity in Jake’s voice that broke you as he put the bouquet down where he’d originally found it and made his way to sit beside you on your bed. “I want you forever and the very idea that some guy—some guy I know is a better man than I will ever be—brought you, my wife, flowers when I didn’t? Kills me.”
“I don’t care about the flowers,” You sighed as Jake wrapped you up in his arms.
“I know, but I let my own insecurities out in a way I never should have and I’m so sorry for the things I said. You don’t deserve that, ever.” It was genuine. The apology for his actions. Jake knew he was in the wrong with how he acted out. You could very clearly see that he was truly sorry. But letting him know that now would have been too easy.
The pair of you sat in your hospital bed for the better half of five minutes silently enjoying each other’s presence and gentle touch. Until you broke.
“I hope you aren’t expecting me to say apology accepted?” You smiled softly as you nuzzled into Jake’s chest a little more. Finding a comfortable position to rest in as you sunk lower in the hospital bed that wasn’t built for two fully grown human beings.
“Nope,” Jake chuckled as he kissed the top of your head, freshly shaved and matching his own. “And I don’t think Rooster is gonna be accepting any apology I give him anytime soon, so the list is growing.”
“What happened with Rooster?” You asked cautiously. You felt the tension take over your husband’s body as he processed what you‘d just asked. Jake held you a little tighter as he once again kissed the top of your freshly shaved head. The notes of your shampoo must have seeped into your scalp. He could still vividly smell the residual fragrance of bergamot.
“Nothing that can’t be explained,” Jake sighed softly. He hated himself with a deep-rooted passion right now. The one thing he wanted to do more than anything else was take you home and pretend everything was alright for just one night. But he couldn’t do that. “Please, don’t worry about my mistakes when you have so much on your plate already. I’ll figure it out. Rooster and I always do.”
“Hmm,” You replied with hesitation as you let your eyes close. The lup-dup of Jake’s heartrate soothed your soul, a heart that begged to be loved in all the ways he deserved to be loved. “I hope so. Martha Stewart’s best and closest friend said the words that sent her to prison,” You explained all the while Jake’s fingers drew unidentifiable objects into the supple skin of your forearm, careful not to mess with any of the tubes attached to you. It was grounding. “So whatever happened between you and Bradshaw I hope you fix it before he spills all your dirty little military secrets.”
“Good thing you’re a true crime author, huh?” Jake smiled with a reluctance to give in to his biggest desire. What would be the repercussions of sneaking you out of this hospital right now?
“No way you’re ending up in one of my books anytime soon,” You giggled softly. Jake felt his heart skip a beat at the sound of your happiness. You felt it too. The moment his heart decided it needed a second to process the laughter you let out. “I love you.”
“I love you too, honey,” Although the circumstances said otherwise, for a second Jake felt like the luckiest guy on the planet. To be loved by you. To be the one you called home. To be the man you chose would forever be Jake’s greatest accomplishment in life. “I could live a thousand lifetimes and not deserve you in any of them.”
************************
“No signs of life.”
There’s a reason surgeons learn to wield scalpels. They like to pretend they’re hard, cold scientists. They like to pretend they’re fearless. But the truth is they become surgeons because somewhere, deep down, they think they can cut away that which haunts us.
Weakness, frailty, death.
It isn’t just surgeons. It’s paramedics too. First responders like to think they have a hand in what fate holds for you. They believe that if they can move a little quicker, stop the bleeding a little faster, and save you from life-threatening injuries, they can give you extra time. Even for just a day.
But the truth is, we don’t know a single person who isn’t haunted by something…or someone. And whether people try to slice the pain away with a scalpel, pull someone from a car wreck, or shove it in the back of a closet…our efforts usually fail.
So the only way we can clear out the cobwebs is to turn a new page or put an old story to rest…finally, finally…to rest.
“Do we have any information on the victim?” Ilona shook her head as her unit chief looked around the scene. A single-car accident. The mangled wreck of twisted aluminium and shattered glass really painted a telling tale of destruction. No one could have survived the magnitude of injuries that they would have sustained on impact.
“I’ll see if one of the guys picked up a phone or something, perhaps it’s still viable,” Ilona replied in a monotone voice. She was new to the horrors that her job sometimes brought with it. The hurricane forced winds that would sometimes knock her right off her feet. But she was learning how to work through the plethora of different emotions in a professional manner. “Poor guy, what do you think happened?”
The black body bag laid out on the stretcher was a not-so-gentle reminder that life was a precious gift. Paramedics carried the deceased man until they were loading him into the back of the van. No sirens would be needed for this particular patient.
“Crash investigation should have a report for us in about a week,” Taylor, the unit chief, replied as he watched the doors to the ambulance close with a thud. “We’ll need to get an ID as soon as possible to inform the family.”
“I have a phone!!” Ilona heard the explanation from one of her co-workers. She turned with a grin on her face back to her boss.
“We have a phone,” She repeated. “I’ll get right on it chef.”
************************
Lydia still felt awful. She hadn’t quite shaken the existential dread that came with her almost career-ending mistake. She sat behind the desk at the nurses station just replaying the events back in her mind. How could she just assume someone to be someone’s emergency contact?
In retrospect, Lydia now understood clear as daylight that relationships were interpersonal and held deeper value than what was on paper. Jake Seresin may not have been your emergency contact, but he sure was the love of your life.
“You want me to do her observations?” Lydia heard one of her colleagues ask with a snicker. They all knew by this point in time what she had done. But now wasn’t the time to retreat and fall back. If she wanted to get past this, she needed to put on a brave face.
“Nope,” Lydia shook her head as he rose to her feet. “I’ve got it,” She explained with a faux smile. “Is he not intimidating?”
“Mr. Seresin?” Her colleague, Rebecca, replied with a mouthful of two-minute noodles she’d been scoffing down in the small window of reprieve. “Guy’s like a labrador. I mean, that is if you didn’t fuck up his wife’s chart badly enough to call the wrong person labelled clearly as an emergency contact.”
“Ha. Ha.” Lydia barely had the time or the energy to humour her coworkers as they giggled and snickered as she made her way into your room. Jake was wide awake. He hadn’t noticed Lydia standing in the threshold of the door. But Lydia noticed how he held you with such care as you slept soundly.
“Oh,” She cooed softly as she knocked her knuckles against the door. “Sorry to interrupt Mr. Seresin but I need to take some observations for Dr. Ignati.”
“Would it be alright if she slept for even just five more minutes?” Jake was quick to advocate on your behalf. He could tell just how tired and overwhelmed with everything you’d become. Now that he was here and by your side, he was going to make sure you got the best possible treatment there was to offer.
Lydia looked around at the Christmas lights that hung around your room. They twinkled and changed colour on a whim, never staying the same colour for long. The way they hung like they’d been thrown all over the place added a joyful smile across her face.
“I’m sure I can take my time,” Lydia agreed as she approached your bedside. “How’s she been feeling?”
“As good as you’d expect to feel given the circumstances, kid,” Jake replied with a yawn. He was able to stretch his limbs a little as he did so. Although, with every move he cautiously made, Jake was careful not to disturb you. “I assume her surgery is still going ahead as planned?”
“As far as I’m aware,” Lydia confirmed as she checked over your chart and wrote down what she saw on your monitors. “Dr. Ignati should be around earlier in the morning to discuss everything once more.”
“How long have you been working here?” Jake asked. He thought some small talk would be beneficial for not only him but for Lydia too. He could tell the question struck a nerve but pressed on nevertheless. “Because if I’m being perfectly honest, it doesn’t seem like very long.”
“Eight months now,” Lydia replied with a short tone. Jake chuckled to himself as he watched her cross out what she had previously written and wrote down what she had originally intended. “Can you tell I’m also not very good at my job?”
“It doesn’t seem out of ignorance,” Jake offered up his version of advice. “I just think you’re rushing things.” The advice didn’t fall on deaf ears like Jake thought it might. Instead, Lydia stopped what she was doing and took a nice deep long breath in. “In my line of work, things can go wrong in the blink of an eye,” Jake explained as he gently rubbed small circles into the palm of your hand with his thumb. If he was careful, he could feel the throbbing of your pulse point. “Gotta learn how to trust your instincts.”
“My last instinct was that you were your wife’s emergency contact,” Lydia didn’t feel as if she needed to remind Jake of her biggest mistake of all time, but she did anyway. Jake understood what it was like to stay hung up on mistakes he couldn’t change. But he knew what he was about to say next would ease the burden Lydia was feeling.
“Honestly, that’s more on me than it is on you,” Jake sighed as you stirred in his arms. He hoped you‘d stay asleep for just a little longer. You needed it. You deserved to rest soundly.
“How so?” Lydia asked softly as went back to her duties. What Jake said to her next, however, had Lydia looking at the situation she found herself in from a different perspective. And sometimes a little perspective is all you need.
“Well, I shouldn’t have let it get to a point where I wasn’t.”
************************
Life gets easier when you realise that there’s no such thing as a wrong decision. Decisions are simply pivots. Each one you make will take you down a new road that will likely be both magic and miserable. Beautiful and ugly. That’s because life is a polarity. Easy doesn’t exist without hard. Good doesn’t exist without bad.
There is no right or wrong answer. Trust that whatever decision you make can always be followed by another decision.
“I hate this,” You mumbled as you walked to the bathroom with your IV support poll. “I already hate all of this so much.” You knew you were feeding into the depression, but you couldn’t help but feel down in the dumps about your current situation.
“I think everything you’re feeling is valid, honey,” Jake answered as he trailed behind, giving you the independence he knew you wanted to keep but also staying close by in case you needed him. “After surgery–” Jake couldn’t even finish the sentence he’d planned to speak into existence.
“Don’t mention surgery,” You interrupted as you made your way over to the shower. “I don’t even wanna think about the surgery tomorrow.”
“You do know that even if you ignore it, you still have to have surgery?” Jake asked as he frowned his brows and looked at you through the mirror. “We’re on the same page about that, right?”
“What if I told you I’m just scared and don’t want anything to happen while I’m cut open like a fish?” You sassed as you looked back at Jake through the mirror. “If something happens–”
“Hey, nothing's gonna happen,” Jake was quick to close the small gap between the two of you. He stood so close that your back pressed up against his chest. His eyes never left yours through the mirror you stood before. “I won’t let anything happen to you, or the kids for that matter.”
“You left the kids with your mother,” You reminded your husband as he pressed his lips into a tight line of regret. “That alone is gonna cause them enough trauma Mr. ‘I won’t let anything happen to the kids’”
“You wound me, sweetheart,” Jake sighed as he tilted his head back and let out a sigh. “Besides, it’s actually you she hates, not the kids,”
“Do you wanna help me shower or not?” You finally turned around to stand face-to-face with Jake. He was already smirking ear to ear. And it didn’t take long at all before his hands were dropping to your waist, slowly but surely making their slightly calloused way to the exposed skin of your ass. The hospital gown left little to the imagination. Jake wasn’t complaining.
“When have I ever passed up the opportunity to see you naked?” Jake replied with a smirk you recognised was laced with lust. You felt him squeeze softly at your arse cheek playfully. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on,”
“You can’t help yourself, can you?” You giggled as Jake made sure to count the staples on your head. He knew whatever came next would have to be soft. It would have to be gentle and full of love. Not that it ever wasn’t full of love.
“You drive me crazy, honey,” Jake explained as he caught your lips with his. You couldn’t help but to melt into his body as you kissed him back. Jake’s hands kneaded at the handfuls of arse he never wanted to let go of as he moaned into your mouth.
The feeling was electric. The moan your husband let out sent shivers down your spine. It was an animalistic attraction that you’d tried so hard to suppress in your separation. But no toy on earth could satisfy you like Jake could. Not even when they were bought with his money.
“I love you so much,” Jake cooed as he pulled back just enough to let his forehead rest against yours. “You’re gonna get through this, I promise,” He left it at that as you wrapped your arms around his waist for a much-needed hug.
When you let go, you took a moment to drink in the sight of your husband. You stared at all the perfect little imperfections that littered his skin. The bags under his eyes were more prominent than normal. That was to be expected though.
“Jake?” You cooed as you reached up to swipe the pad of your thumb across his lower lip.
“I’m right here,” Jake replied as he kept his eyes closed. If he opened them he knew the tears he was trying so desperately to keep in would fall. If he cried in front of you he'd never be able to stop himself.
“I need you to wake up for me, alright?”
“What did you say?” Jake frowned as he opened his eyes and looked at you all confused. He knew what you said. He heard it crystal clear. But he needed you to repeat it. He needed to hear you say it again, just once. The fluorescent bathroom light flickered as he stared at you. For a second…Jake stood alone in a hospital room he didn’t recognise. Only for him to find himself standing right before you again in the blink of an eye. “Honey?”
“I said I need you to get my phone for me?” You repeated calmly. “My phone is ringing and if I try to race to it I won't get there in time.” The explanation fit the response you gave him. Jake thought for a moment there he was going crazy. He needed more sleep, that was without a doubt the answer to his second of madness.
Jake silently nodded in agreement before he kissed your forehead. He was only gone for a few seconds before he returned with your phone. Still ringing.
“Who is it?” You asked as you reached out to take your phone from Jake. By the look smeared across his face, it wasn't someone he necessarily liked.
“It’s your boyfriend,” Jake teased as he handed you your phone. Based on that comment alone you knew it was Jensen.
“Careful Seresin,” You teased lovingly, hoping Jake believed what you had told him earlier. “He might be my next husband if you don't play your cards right.”
Jake knew you were kidding and if anything he deserved that comeback. He didn't like the guy, that much was true. But he could see how having someone who knew what it was like to not know your own body could be beneficial to the mind.
“You caught me at a bad time,” Jake watched as you answered the phone and held it up to your ear. “I–oh,” You paused. The immediate worry that took over the expanse of your face was enough to have the little hairs on the back of Jake's neck standing on edge.
“Jensen Huges–” The name hung heavy in the air around you as you listened to the woman on the other end of the line. According to her, there had been a small piece of paper tucked into the phone case of this particular phone at the scene of an accident. Your name. Your number. “Oh, no, no don't tell me that,” You begged.
Jake was unable to hear what was being said in the silence, but as he watched your eyes well with tears, he knew.
“Y/n, give me the phone, honey,” He whispered as he gestured to your phone. You shook your head in response as you continued to listen to the woman who had introduced herself as Ilona. A police officer with the Rhode Island police. “Sweetheart?” Jake cooed as he reached out for you. The second his fingertips grazed your shoulder…You fell. “Shit–”
“NOOOOOOO!” The guttural scream you let out scared Jake to his very core. He’d never in his life heard you sound the way you did as you crumbled on the floor in the bathroom. “NOOOOOO!”
“Baby, baby I'm here, what happened?” Jake asked softly as he cupped your face in his hands. Your phone was long forgotten. It had crashed down when you did. “Tell me what happened so I can help you, honey?”
“He–he left me,” You managed to gasp out between sobs. “And I can’t–I can’t breathe, Jake, I ca–”
“Hey, I’ve got you,” Jake promised you as he held you tightly in his arms. “It’s gonna be alright,” Jake seemed to have been in the business of making promises he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep. He had no fucking idea if things would be alright. But he needed them to be.
“I can't do this without him,” You cried out in utter anguish. “He, he was the st-strongest,” Jake could tell where this was going as you struggled to speak through your grief-stricken sobs. “If he—then I,”
“I’ve lost count of all the rooms you've been tall in Y/n,” It broke his heart to see you like this. So full of heartbreak. So full of hopelessness. “You gotta keep fighting, I don’t know what I’ll do without you,”
“I don't know how to!” You admitted to not only yourself but to your husband as well. “I don't know how!”
“I’m right here, honey,” Jake held you as tight as he could on the bathroom floor. “You don't have a choice,” He explained as you cried your heart out in a way Jake had never seen you cry before. He could hear your voice echoing in his head.
“You need to wake up,”
“You need to wake up,”
“You need to wake up,”
“Don't give up on me now Y/n, I can't lose you to this alright?” Jake felt his own tears streaming down his cheeks. The tears he no longer had the strength to fight. The way you willed yourself to wake up from this nightmare you were living broke his heart into pieces. The tears he no longer had the strength to fight. “Please, you gotta keep fighting this.”
“He was the stronger one,” You replied as you cried yourself into a ball in Jake's arms. Clutching at his arms as your nails dug into his forearms. Grief was a funny thing. “I can't–”
“You have to,” Jake cried with you. He was losing the love of his life and there was nothing he could do to stop this nightmare from happening. “I’m gonna be right here every step.”
“I just want you to wake up,” It was all you said. Jake knew he heard you that time. He heard you loud and clear… “Please, don't leave me,”
coworker!james and readers first kiss pretty pretty please? with cherry on top? i love these pining idiots in love so much!
ty for requesting <3 fem, 1.4k
“What are you doing?”
A warm voice and a warmer hand pressed to your shoulder. You hide the mug under your palm and look up, finding yourself face to face with a grinning James.
His glasses make his eyes a little smaller than they are in actuality. Closer, you can see all the different shades that surround his pupils, and his hedging of dark lashes, so dark it’s like he’s wearing makeup.
“Nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing.” His hand remains on your shoulder, a brand as the other grabs at a torn corner of a packet you’d failed to throw away. Your lips part in horror, but he can’t be stopped now. “Um, excuse me, lovely girl, but you wouldn’t know what this is off, would you?”
“Me?”
“You, yeah.”
“Um…” You squint at the packaging in mock confusion. “No, don’t think so.”
“Well, there’s one way to get to the bottom of this.”
He moves his hand, for which you’re thankful and disappointed at once. It had been close to a hug, that warmth lingering as James opens the kitchen cupboard and sorts through tens of boxes before pulling down a hastily returned cardboard box. ‘JAMES’ has been written across it in bold sharpie.
He slips out a hot chocolate sachet from the box and compares the scrap he’d found to the corner. They are, unfortunately, an exact match.
“Where do you get the audacity?” he asks plainly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“So what’s that, then?”
“It’s nothing,” you say, sliding the mug further away from you both.
There’s a silence. James puts the box back in the cupboard and peers at you where you’re curling in on yourself. He’s trying to intimidate you, at least for fun, something weighted and smiley about his gaze as he slides his arm between you and the counter. “If it’s nothing,” he says quietly, “then show it to me.”
You angle your face up to explain yourself. He’d looked sad, tired even, and you’d hoped making him a cup of hot chocolate would cheer him up. Things between you lately are clearly different, not just to you but to everyone around you. All your interactions feel watched. James’ hand curling against your waist doesn’t even feel new, it just feels firm.
A big hand, his thumb pressing into your soft stomach.
Your breath catches as he moves you out of his way.
“Is this my mug, too?” he asks, all tension draining, your relief a quick breath. (Your disappointment somewhere hidden beneath it.) “You’re the cheekiest girl alive. Shame on you.”
You give him a strange look. He can’t ignore it, you’re too obvious.
“What?” he asks, nudging the mug back toward your hand.
For a second you…
“I’m just kidding,” he says, his eyes widening the longer you remain speechless. “You don’t have to panic. I’m joking, I don’t care.”
“I was making it for you,” you say.
James’ brows relax. “You were?”
You give him the mug, and you don’t know what to do, what can you do? If you linger he’ll work out what you’re thinking, he has a detector for all your most embarrassing thoughts, you’re sure of it. You nod emphatically and weave around him without another word.
“Y/N,” he says to your back. The door handle is cold in your hand. You almost walk straight into it. “Y/N, wait a second!”
You turn around, weary of a scene. “I’m fine,” you say, startled by his reaction, “I just need a minute.”
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“I’m fine.” You summon your most convincing smile. Your heart bends against your ribs. “Really.”
You leave him standing in the kitchen, nonplussed, rushing out of the main part of the office and down the two flights of stairs. Out past the receptionists, down the concrete steps, where you stop at the bottom, and sit down hard.
What are you doing?
Where can you go? You can’t go anywhere. James is going to know exactly what it is that made you react like that, is going to realise you have feelings for him entirely outside of the common realm. And you’ll have to keep sitting at your adjacent desks pretending it’s not true.
Why would he do that to you? His hand on your waist turning you toward him, your faces much closer than they’d ever been. James must know that’s an intimate touch.
He’s messing with you.
You spend five minutes glancing out at the car park before he comes to join you. It’s awful that you know that it’s him. The wind blows in pangs against the side of your face.
“I’m really sorry,” James says, sitting on the second to last step beside you, a strange lack of space between your two bodies. “I didn’t mean to do that to you. To freak you out.”
“It’s okay.”
“I really didn’t. I know I’ve messed with you before, but you were looking at me like…”
You rub your eye, a migraine brewing behind it. “Like what?” you ask.
“I don’t know. Like that.”
“How was I looking at you?”
“I don’t know. Like I– Like I broke your heart.” He laughs ‘cos it’s stupid, but his laugh peters off strangely.
“James, you were looking at me like you were…” What’s unsaid stays heavily between you.
He looks off to the side, his hand coming up behind his hand to scratch his hair. Curls pull and plink as his fingers comb through them, he’s rough, but the lengths of his hair are shiny under what little of the sun floods through the cloud cover above. You watch him, stomach aching for an answer, some confirmation, but the more you look the less sure you are that you need it. Everything you feel for him wells to the surface. It’s hot, and urgent, and it’s getting too much for you to hold alone.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admits quietly.
“James,” you say, wanting him like a palpable wound. Wanting him to need you too. “James,” you say again, putting your hand on his thigh carefully.
He covers it instinctively. “What?” he asks.
“Please, can I…”
His eyes bore into yours, and follow your gaze when it tips down to his mouth.
The skin between his brow creases with one deep wrinkle, his full lips twisted into a heart-hurting frown as he leans in. You close your eyes before he can close his own, waiting for him, to kiss you and to get this tugging yearning dealt with, but he doesn’t kiss you. His breath warms your lips and he turns to you completely, but he doesn’t kiss you.
You want it so badly, you tip your chin up and press your lips to his. Terrified of him, because you really are in the palm of his hand now. It’s worse than when he hated you.
He has the power to be a thousand times more cruel than he ever had before as you kiss him softly.
James kisses back a second too late. He’s giving in to it and you’re pulling away, pins and needles in your hands. “Wait,” he says, his voice a shade of longing you’ve never heard, your eyes flashing open at the same time. His hand leaps for your waist. “Wait, please.”
His fingers press into the dough of your side, holding you still, butterflies alive and riveted under his hand.
You close your eyes on a whim, and he kisses you soundly. His lips part against yours to encourage a similar movement, his head tilted ever so slightly to one side and your noses smudged together. “Please,” he murmurs against your lips.
You kiss him back like he kisses you. Soft, open-mouthed.
His hand comes up to your face, pulling you forward, desperate to keep you close as he sighs against your mouth, the sound a vibration you feel at the back of your throat.
Please, he’d said, like he wouldn’t get another go.
Please. The tie on you snaps.
You kiss him like you’ve never kissed anybody, hoping it isn’t just another obvious trick.
Summary: You receive a particularly difficult patient by the name of Bradshaw and you try your best to resist his charms.
CW: tall Bradley, Mavdad, it's still goofy XD
WC: 1800+
Part 1 | Masterlist
You’re sitting at the bar with a drink in your hand, waiting for your friend to finish flirting with the bartender so you can pay your tab, when you hear a familiar voice from behind.
“Almost didn’t recognized you without the stethoscope.”
You glance over your shoulder wearily, instantly recognizing the tall aviator you met at the clinic earlier in the week. Bradshaw, was it? “Yeah, I get that a lot,” you say, giving him a polite smile before turning away.
Bradley doesn’t take the hint and plants himself on the barstool next to you. “So, are you gonna tell me your name? Or am I just gonna have to keep calling you Doc? Might get a bit awkward in bed.”
You snort into your drink as you’re taking a sip. Bradley grins, clearly pleased that he’s made you laugh. His slightly narrowed eyes sweep over your face with a quiet confidence, and you find yourself rather enjoying his attention. “Well, for the sake of making things less awkward,” you respond with a small smile, and then tell him your name.
“It’s nice to meet you,” he says, and then leans forward slightly to add, “again.”
You bite into your lip to suppress your widening grin.
“I was hoping I’d run into you, actually,” he comments, turning away to flag down the otherwise occupied bartender.
“Oh yeah?” you ask, feigning surprise.
“Yeah,” Bradley responds, tapping on his beer bottle and nodding at the bartender. He turns back to you and shrugs. “Saves me from having to fake an illness to come see you.”
You eye him somewhat reproachfully. “That would be extremely inappropriate.”
Bradley laughs. “If you think that’s inappropriate, I’m not gonna tell you what I planned on doing once I got there.”
Your eyes widen at the insinuation. “Lieutenant!” you exclaim.
Bradley continues chuckling. “Don’t worry, you’d have liked it.” He winks and then nods at the bartender who’s brought him his beer.
You stare at him because his boldness is mindboggling. “You shouldn’t be drinking with a head injury,” you point out.
He looks at you with amusement. “What head injury?”
“The one that brought you to my office?”
“You know what brought me to your office?” he says, and then points a thumb over his shoulder at a crowded table near the back of the bar. “Captain Maverick Mitchell. My self-appointed father figure,” he says in a tone that’s half-grudging, half-affectionate. “And possibly fate,” he adds as an afterthought.
You blink at him skeptically when he glances back at you. “Wow,” you say. “Pulling out the big guns.”
Bradley laughs again. “I have quite the arsenal.”
“Oh, I bet,” you say with a chuckle. “Aviator, right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bradley responds proudly. Then he nods at the glass you bring to your lips. “Looks like you need a refill.”
You shake your head. “I was about to head out actually.”
Bradley purses his lips and narrows his eyes. “But then I arrived and changed your mind, right?”
You laugh slightly. “Not quite, Lieutenant,” you respond, rising from your stool and waving at the bartender. “I’ve got an early morning.”
Bradley gets out of his seat and pulls out his wallet. “Allow me, please,” he says.
“That’s not necessary,” you reply uncomfortably. You don’t like feeling indebted to anyone.
Bradley gives you a more serious look. “It’s the least I could do for nagging you this evening.”
You can’t help the smile that spreads of its own accord. You find Bradley reasonably attractive, sure. But it’s the way he carries himself that’s really got you hooked. You can hardly pull your gaze away. “Don’t forget about the part where you were the most obnoxious patient.”
Bradley lets out a hearty laugh. “That deserves a whole pint, Doc.”
You give him a smile. “Maybe another time,” you say politely. Despite his persistence, you can’t jeopardize your position at the clinic by consorting with a patient.
But before you turn to leave, Captain Mitchell approaches the bar and, upon perceiving you, he exclaims, “Oh! It’s the doctor!” He gestures in your direction while looking at Bradley.
Bradley gives him a flat look. “No shit,” he says.
Maverick glances between the two of you and then nods in realization. “You’ve spotted her already.”
You press your lips together to conceal a smile as Bradley brings a hand to his face like he’s thoroughly embarrassed by his ‘self-appointed father figure’. “Hello again,” you say to the captain, extending your hand.
“Good to see you, Doctor,” Maverick replies with a knowing grin, shaking your hand. “Almost didn’t recognized you without the stethoscope.”
“Oh god,” Bradley groans. “That's embarrassing.”
Maverick looks over at him with a confused expression while you giggle. “I was actually planning on scheduling him in for a follow-up,” Maverick says. “Noticed some concerning behaviors.”
You raise your eyebrows while Bradley watches Maverick’s profile incredulously.
“New behaviors?” you ask, glancing back at Bradley.
“No, no.” Maverick waves a hand nonchalantly as he settles onto a barstool. “Not new.”
Bradley shakes his head. “Why are you such a shit disturber?”
Maverick laughs and claps him on the back. “You buy the lady a drink yet?”
You drop your head slightly to hide your growing smile.
“I was trying to,” Bradley declares. “Before your ass showed up.”
You look up apologetically at the two men who are now watching you expectantly. “I’m not…thirsty.”
Maverick winces while Bradley’s shoulders visibly fall. “It’s his fault, isn’t it?” Bradley says, gesturing at Maverick with his thumb again.
“How is it my fault?” Maverick exclaims.
“It’s not his fault,” you attest, glancing at the captain.
“You should talk some more about my concerning behaviors,” Bradley retorts.
Maverick snorts. “I was kidding!” he says. “She knows!” he gestures at you. “You know, right?”
You glance between the two men patiently, wondering if they realize just how much they have in common. “Neither of you is driving tonight, right?” you ask, feeling, for some strange reason, a sense of responsibility for them.
Maverick turns to face you with a jolt. “I’m sober,” he asserts.
Bradley’s eyebrows converge in a dubious expression before he looks back at you. “He’s not driving,” he confirms.
“And you?”
“This is only my second beer!” he exclaims.
You meet his gaze with a smile because you don’t want him to feel attacked. “Okay,” you respond gently. “Drive safe.”
You start to walk away when you hear Bradley say, “Can I walk you to your car, Doc?”
You turn to face him again, about halfway to the door. “You know my name now,” you say, and he grins at you.
“I do,” he agrees. “That was for old times’ sake.”
You sigh. “Sure, Lieutenant. You can walk me to my car.”
…
Out in the parking lot, Bradley muses, “I’m thinking of maybe dislocating my shoulder next week. That’s an easy fix, right?”
You look over at him sharply. “That’s not funny.”
Bradley grins. “Not even a little?”
You roll your eyes at him and continue walking.
“Come on, Doc!” he calls after you. “My sense of humor is a good thing, remember?”
You smile to yourself and slow your pace to let him catch up. “There are other ways of getting my attention besides injuring yourself,” you remark as he falls back in step with you.
“Such as?” he asks.
You approach your car and unlock the door. “I can’t give away all the answers, can I?”
Bradley presses his lips together and grins. “Does that mean I have a shot?”
You lower your gaze coyly. “I don’t know, Lieutenant.”
“That’s not a ‘no’,” he points out.
You smile, glancing back up at him. “No,” you agree. “I suppose it’s not.”
Bradley’s eyes sparkle mischievously as he holds your gaze. “Can I take you to dinner?” he asks.
“No,” you reply almost immediately. Then, after a beat, you add, “Not yet.”
Bradley licks his lips, still grinning. “I’ll take it.”
You chuckle slightly, reaching for the door to your car.
“Can I stand here with you a little longer?” he asks, his voice a little more raspy when it isn’t bursting with confidence.
You pause, your hand still on the door, shocked at how desperately you want to oblige. How delightful it would be to just say yes on a whim. Without considering the repercussions or weighing the pros and cons. Without deliberation or apprehension. Impulsively. The word itself makes you flustered. “Okay,” you say, glancing up at him as he shifts a little closer.
Bradley smiles at you and leans his back to the car. He stands quietly for a few moments, just existing beside you, which you find both endearing and infuriating. You don’t have a lot of time on your hands and simply standing around is a colossal waste of it in your books. But something about the warm evening breeze paired with the smell of the ocean and Bradley’s crisp cologne makes the experience less harrowing, and maybe even possibly pleasant.
Still, you’re restless. “So, when you said you wanted to stand here, you actually meant stand here…” you comment.
Bradley glances down at you with an amused expression. “You got something else in mind, Doc?”
You half-snort, half-chuckle. “I just thought maybe you had something else to say. I didn’t realize we’d be standing in silence.”
Bradley grins at you. “It’s called being present.”
You study him with a slight grimace, genuinely trying to keep your cynicism at bay. Being present isn’t a kind of luxury you can often afford. Most days, you don’t even get a chance to eat sitting down. “What does that accomplish?” you ask.
Bradley, who’s still watching you with a smile, replies, “Does everything you do have a purpose?”
“Of course,” you say. “Why else would I do it?”
Bradley raises his eyebrows and puts his hands into his pockets. “That’s very practical of you.”
“It’s efficient,” you point out, trying to highlight the importance of productivity.
Bradley nods patiently. “Sounds like you need a night off, Doc.”
You laugh. “I just had a night off. But it had a purpose – my friend needed help wooing the bartender.”
Bradley chuckles. “Has the purpose ever been to just have a good time?”
You make a face and shrug. “That’s not really a priority of mine.”
“Wow, Doc, you’re a hoot,” Bradley replies facetiously.
“I warned you,” you remind him, opening your car door.
Bradley leans his arm over the frame of your car as you climb inside. “You know you leave me no choice, right?” he says, ducking his head slightly to peer into the vehicle.
“What are you talking about?” you ask, glancing up at him.
“We’re going to have to rearrange your list of priorities,” he says.
You watch him for a moment, marveling at his persistence. His gaze drops briefly to your lips before flitting back up to your eyes again, and you wonder what it might feel like to be kissed by a guy like Bradley. It would probably be sexy and spontaneous. It would probably catch you off guard and possibly even offend you a little. Then again, maybe you wouldn’t mind being mildly offended if it meant kissing Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw. “I’m not sure that’s a realistic goal,” you say. Your tone might be sarcastic, but the statement is fairly accurate.
Bradley grins. “I don’t mind a challenge.”
Rooster Tag List:
I'll be putting the rest of the list in the comments shortly! Please feel free to let me know if you no longer wish to be tagged in my Rooster fics.
Summary: Bradley was drawn to you the minute you moved onto his street. You seemed to bump into one another everywhere, and each time he saw your smile or heard your laugh, he knew he had to ask you out. He wasn't expecting the answer you gave him, just as you weren't expecting to wish he could be the man for you.
Warnings: angst, fluff, adult language, mentions of accident/death, guardianship of child
Length: 3500 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
Check out my masterlist for more
Early September was brutal in southern California. Each day seemed hotter than the one before it, and even the smallest bit of yard work was enough to leave Bradley sweaty and miserable. He stood in the middle of his front yard, eyes closed, thinking about how beautiful autumn was in Virginia when he was a kid. He leaned against the handle of the rake, picturing a pumpkin patch, a corn maze and all the things he would never find in San Diego.
The sound of something bigger than a car coming down his quiet side street had him cracking his eyes open against the Saturday afternoon sun. A U-Haul lumbered to a stop in front of the house across the street and one door down. The engine settled to silence, and he craned his neck to get a better look. The property had been sitting there with a red and white SOLD sticker over the realty sign for what seemed like months, and now it would appear as though he finally had a new neighbor.
Bradley dropped the rake and had to lunge to grab the handle before it clattered against his stone pathway. The woman who climbed out of the truck, hopping down onto the street in some beat up sneakers, was beautiful. The sun seemed to illuminate her from the inside, and now Bradley was setting the rake down softly as she walked around the truck and slid the back open. It was filled with furniture and boxes, and he watched as an avalanche nearly flowed out as she tried to move one item.
"Shit," he grunted, running across the street as he wiped his dirty hands on the hem of his undershirt. "It looks like you could use a hand," he called out, hoping he wouldn't scare you when he came up behind you just in time to catch a dining chair that was teetering above your head. Then the neatly stacked boxes started to give out as well, and his left hand went to steady them.
You were ducking slightly, preparing for the worst when Bradley realized your back was pressed against his chest. If he moved, there would be a lot of broken furniture to contend with. But then you glanced at him over your shoulder as you stood to your full height, eyes wide and lips parted in surprise.
If you looked beautiful from across the street, then you looked stunning up close, trapped between his body and the truck. "Welcome to the neighborhood," he mumbled like an idiot, but he was rewarded by the smile that curled along your lips.
"Hey, you're pretty good at being neighborly," you replied, gesturing to his right hand holding the chair and his left securing the stack of boxes. His heartbeat quickened at the sound of your voice and how close you were as you told him your name and asked which house was his.
"I'm Bradley. The white cottage across the street." He nodded toward his mess of a front yard with his chin. "I moved in about six months ago."
What he didn't mention was the fact that he often still felt like a bit of an outsider in town, even though he attended all the neighborhood potlucks and still had some blond in his hair from hanging out on the local beaches all summer. At the moment, all he could do was fight the urge to tell you how pretty your eyes were.
"And you like the neighborhood?" you asked, fully facing him now with a smirk on your face.
He shrugged the best he could without moving too much. "I might like it better now."
Your eyes widened a bit before you ducked your head, looking up at him with a surprised smile like you couldn't quite believe what he'd just said. And that's when Bradley heard another vehicle pull up behind him. "That would be my friends. Here to help me unpack."
He wanted to joke that it looked like you needed all the help you could get with your furniture avalanche, but he heard several voices calling your name and rushing over to help. He was invited to stay, but when he was finally able to safely back away without anything falling, he realized four other people were there to help you out.
Your eyes were still focused on his as he started to back away. "I'll see you around?" you asked before chewing on your lip.
"I would count on it," he confirmed, turning back toward his house so you could get settled into yours.
But he did hear one of your friends ask, "Who is he?"
"Bradley," you replied, just barely loud enough for him to hear. "From the white cottage."
--------------------------------
After that first encounter, he saw you everywhere. You were pulling into the parking spot next to his Bronco when he came out of the grocery store. When he asked how you liked your new house, it sparked a conversation about hardwood versus porcelain tile flooring, and Bradley's ice cream was completely melted by the time he got home.
Then there was the day you bumped into him coming out of the salon next to his barber, and he complimented your colorful nails at the same time you told him his haircut looked nice. He blushed, and you smiled before turning toward your car, glancing back at him a little expectantly.
Then he ran into you at the farmer's market where you were buying vegetables for the upcoming neighborhood potluck. You asked him what he thought you should make.
"Well, I'm the wrong person to ask," he replied, feeling a little lightheaded as his brain begged him to ask you out on a date.
"Why's that?" you asked, placing your hand on your hip while you held up a head of cabbage. "You're a picky eater?"
He shook his head and took a step closer to you. "The exact opposite. I love food. I will eat literally anything that is edible."
Your bright laughter cascaded across his skin as your head tipped back. The expanse of your neck looked smooth and perfect, and Bradley wanted to have your permission to put his lips there. And that was a startling thought since nobody had really caught his attention like this since he was first stationed in San Diego. Nobody made him feel like he was at home in his house before you started waving to him whenever you saw him outside.
"I guess it makes sense that you love food," you told him with a smile. "You're a big boy." Your gaze drifted down along his shoulders and chest before you started to look a little embarrassed. "I... yeah... I think I'll just grab whatever looks good and take it from there. See you on Friday night?"
"Yeah," he grunted as you walked toward an eggplant display. He would see you on Friday night. And he would be prepared ahead of time to ask you out.
----------------------------
"No," you gasped. Bradley recognized your voice and turned around to face you in Mrs. Diaz's kitchen. "That's what you brought to the potluck?" You sounded appalled, but you were clearly smiling as you looked at what he was holding.
"I told you I liked to eat food, not that I knew how to cook anything."
"Bradley," you groaned, shaking your head at the bag of chips and jar of salsa in his hands. "This is bad. Next time, I'll prepare two dishes so you can pretend you made one."
His heart skipped a beat at the idea of handing you things in his kitchen and watching you make something as nice as the lasagna you were holding. "It's useless," he replied with a frown. "After six months of bringing restaurant style tortilla chips and medium salsa, nobody would believe I cooked anything."
Once again, your laughter had him ready to drop what he was holding and reach for you. He had to ask you out tonight. It had been weeks already since you moved in, and you were definitely giving him a green light. He could think of a dozen different restaurants he wanted to take you to, and maybe you'd like the artsy little movie theater.
But he watched you get swept up in conversation after conversation, and then the opportunity slipped away when you ducked away from everyone to answer a call. You had a concerned look on your face with your phone pressed to your cheek, and then you were rushing out of Mrs. Diaz's house and along her front path before you disappeared from view.
Suddenly it was well into October, and he'd barely seen you at all. There were a few mornings that felt cool enough to coax him to buy some pumpkins for his front porch. He thought about taking one over to your house as an excuse to finally ask you out, but he figured you must be pretty busy right now. Maybe work got a little crazy. He tried not to imagine that someone else had asked you out and that was the reason why you were so scarce.
"Damn," he grunted when he drove his Bronco past your house on his way to get some takeout for dinner on a Saturday night. He just couldn't stop thinking about you. Why didn't he ask you out that first day when he saved you from your dining chair? He ran his hand over his face and groaned, parking in front of the restaurant and yanking his keys from the ignition. If he'd just asked you out that day, maybe he'd be picking up twice as much food and sharing it with you tonight.
A minute later, when he turned to leave the restaurant with his bag, he could not believe his luck. You were walking inside. "Hey."
You glanced up, and for the briefest second, you smiled at him like you always used to. "Bradley." But then your smile started to fade away slowly, and he would do anything to bring it back.
His heart was pounding, and his brain was screaming at him, so he squared his shoulders and did the only thing he could do. "Hey, if you're free tomorrow night, I was thinking maybe you and I could get dinner? Or hit up the movie theater on Pomona? The seats are uncomfortable, but they show some indie stuff which could be fun. Or maybe another night might work?"
The air was silent except for the muffled sound of food being prepared in the kitchen behind him. Your eyes looked so sad as you shook your head and pressed your lips together. "No. No, I'm sorry, Bradley."
Well, fuck.
He backed away from you until he bumped into the wall, and then he focused on getting to the door. "Right," he replied after he had a few more feet between your body and his. "Well, I'll see you around the neighborhood."
For the first time since he moved to California, the air outside was too cold. There was an uncomfortable knot in his stomach as he glanced over at your car. He shivered miserably as he saw the shadow of someone waiting in your passenger seat. Then he drove home and ate alone in his kitchen before going to bed.
---------------------------------
Bradley tried his best not to think about you. One day last week, when he saw your front door swing open, he waited to step down from his porch so you wouldn't have to wave awkwardly to him. And yesterday, for lack of anything better to do, he bought more pumpkins, and he waited in his driveway to unload them until you carried all of your groceries inside your house.
Today was Halloween, and he spent over an hour carving some of the pumpkins to look like soccer balls before dressing in his usual costume. Handing candy out to the neighborhood kids and trying to guess what they were dressed as sounded like fun. He was determined to have a good night, even if he did have to angle the folding chair on his porch so he was facing slightly away from your house. He would enjoy himself no matter what.
Bradley lit the candles inside his pumpkins and dropped down into the chair with a bowl of candy as the afternoon sky turned dusky. It didn't take long until a toddler dressed as a witch made an appearance with her dad, and Bradley had a good laugh when she reached for three pieces of candy.
"Trick or treat!" shouted three kids dressed as the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
"Where's Raphael?" he asked as they collected their candy.
Leonardo laughed and said, "Nobody wants to be Raphael. He's the lamest one."
"I would have to agree," Bradley replied, about to help himself to a piece of candy as they started to run to the next house.
But then he saw you. And you weren't alone. You were dressed as a soccer player, complete with knee socks and a soccer ball, and you were accompanied by an approximately ten year old kid who looked a lot like you. He was also dressed as a soccer player, and he smiled at Bradley as he said, "Trick or treat."
Bradley stood up, still holding onto the bowl of candy so the child could make his selection while he got a better look at you. "Hey."
"Hi," you replied immediately, looking from his mustache to the whistle around his neck and back up to his visor. "Are you seriously dressed as Ted Lasso?"
"I always dress as Ted Lasso," he told you, and he was rewarded with a smile that made him want to follow you around the neighborhood like a lost puppy.
"Of course you do," you said, letting your gaze drift toward the child who was currently looking closely at the soccer ball pumpkins while holding onto a Snickers bar. "Somehow you match with us."
The boy looked up at Bradley and asked, "Did you carve these yourself? They look pretty good."
"Yeah," he replied, wishing he actually had taken the time to drop a pumpkin or two off on your porch. "I have perfected the soccer ball technique, kiddo."
The kid nodded but said, "You need to call it a football."
Bradley found himself agreeing. "You're completely right. It's only proper."
When the kid turned back to explore the rest of the pumpkin display a little more, Bradley took a step closer to you. "I didn't know you had a son," he said softly.
Your eyes were alert, scrutinizing his expression as you said, "His name is Max. He's almost ten."
"He looks like you."
You went silent for a few seconds, fiddling with the soccer ball in your hands. When you finally spoke, you were looking at Bradley's feet. "I knew you didn't know about him. I mean, you did ask me out after all." You laughed even though nothing was funny and finally looked up at his face. Then Max started to walk back the way you and he came, and you followed him.
Bradley called your name. When you turned back, he said, "To be clear, I would have still asked you out if I'd known."
And then you looked so sad again.
------------------------------
To Bradley's amazement, the weather finally cooled to the perfect temperature in November, but he found he didn't want to be outside as much. It was a shame, because if he stood in the middle of his yard and closed his eyes, he could almost imagine he was in Virginia.
One Friday after work, he cleaned the slightly rotten pumpkins from his porch and dragged his trash bin to the curb. Your front door was open, and he paused to see if you or Max happened to walk past it before heading back inside his empty house.
There was another potluck tonight, but he just didn't even feel like going. He had the usual chips and salsa on his kitchen counter, but he had no desire to socialize with the neighbors. He was about to change into gym shorts and surrender to a cold beer and a basketball game on TV when there was a knock on his door.
When he glanced through the front window, he saw that it was you, and his heart seemed to drag him toward the door. He was turning the knob before he thought better of it, and he was met with your wide eyes and a crock pot in your hands.
"Hi. Bradley."
"Hey." He swallowed hard before he said your name, and your lips turned up into a soft smile. "Is that for the potluck?"
"Yeah," you said, reaching out to hand the crock pot to him. "Well, I actually made it for you to take. Max and I will be bringing lasagna again."
Whatever Bradley was holding smelled so good, his stomach started to growl. "I can't take this. Nobody will believe I made it," he murmured, nudging at the lid with his thumb.
"It's a spicy buffalo dip," you replied, smile growing. "I literally made it with chicken from a can. I'm pretty sure you could trick them into thinking it came from your kitchen. You can even take your tortilla chips, too."
His fingers tightened on the handles when you took a small step closer to him. This was agony, being so close to you when he really wanted to touch you, but knew he couldn't. He whispered your name at the same time you looked up at him and started talking.
"Max isn't my son. He's my nephew. But I'm his legal guardian now." Bradley's lips parted, but you shook your head and quickly added. "The night of the last potluck, I got a phone call that my brother and his wife were in a car accident. They both died before they reached the hospital. I had to pick Max up from soccer practice that night, and he's been with me ever since."
Tears were welling up in your eyes as Bradley tried to shuffle your crock pot to one hand. He knew how badly this kind of thing hurt from his own childhood. "Shit. I'm really sorry the two of you are going through this. But Max is lucky he has you." When you nodded and shrugged, you looked resigned to the way things were. "I'm also pretty sure Max prefers it when you call it football. Not soccer."
You laughed, maybe in spite of yourself, but Bradley still loved how it sounded. You briefly glanced over your shoulder toward your house and swiped at your tears as you said, "He absolutely does. He also keeps asking me about Ted Lasso across the street and his football pumpkins. I told him you're nice."
Bradley's heart had him dragging his feet closer to you, holding onto the warm pot of buffalo chicken dip for dear life. "Is that so?"
You nodded and stared at Bradley's chest for a few seconds before meeting his eyes again. Your lips parted several times before you whispered his name, and he leaned in a bit closer. After a few seconds, he started to step back, but your hand settled lightly on his shoulder, stopping him. Before he could react, you closed the remaining space, pressing your lips to his in a tentative kiss.
It was over almost as quickly as it started, and Bradley was ready to drop to his knees and beg you for more. But you were rambling now, and he was trying his best to focus. "I wanted you to ask me out so badly. But then everything changed, and I had to tell you no. Max has a lot he still needs to process, and I don't really have time to date someone who just wants to mess around with me."
For the first time in many weeks, Bradley felt lighter than air. He reached out with his free hand and let his knuckles trail gently along your cheek and down to your softly parted lips. "I'm forty years old. I'm kind of over the messing around stage," he promised. And then you were kissing him again.
The three of you walked to Mrs. Diaz's house together that evening. Bradley carried the crock pot, you carried the lasagna, and Max carried the tortilla chips. The conversation was mainly focused on how badly Max wanted to learn how to carve a football pumpkin.
Almost a year later, Bradley was standing in his front yard, smiling at the SOLD sticker placed on a realty sign in front of your house. It made sense to have you and Max move into the white cottage with him, because the porch was bigger. It was the perfect size for an elaborate Halloween display.
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Thanks for reading this angsty yet fuzzy little fic. I hope your Halloween is sweeter than Bradley Bradshaw. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls and @thedroneranger
oh to be loved like a habit and not a chore. oh to be loved because loving you is their default state of being and not something they have to perform like a duty. oh to be loved because they don't want to live a life where loving you doesn't exist. oh to be loved truly.
i feel really bad for wanting love. can’t i be grateful with the life i already have? i have amazing parents, friends, no health issues, food and a roof over my head, music, books, nature, why am i so desperate.. i feel like such a bad person
Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 26 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Bradley has a plan of action, but he needs to make sure you're a little distracted before he can proceed.
Warnings: fluff, adult language, smut, 18+
Length: 3400 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader
Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist
"Today was exhausting," you whispered, pulling your legs up so you were sitting on Bradley's lap on the couch. His flight suit was a little scratchy, and you were still wearing your dress, but you yawned and nuzzled against his chest in surrender. "Please don't make me move yet."
You could feel and hear his laughter as one big hand came up to squeeze your shoulder before gliding down your side to your waist. "Make you move? I want to keep you with me forever, Gorgeous."
Did he know the extent to which his words excited you every time he said forever? You tried to play it cool, wrapping your arm around his waist, but as soon as his lips met your forehead in a gentle kiss, you whispered, "Forever sounds really good."
His posture stiffened a little bit as his fingers flexed on your waist. You could feel him fighting the urge to jump to his feet with you in his lap.
"What's wrong?" you asked, stifling another yawn.
"Nothing," he replied quickly, but you could tell he was antsy. "Just getting hungry."
"Of course you are," you murmured, letting your hand rest on his flat belly. He only took a quick lunch break earlier during Career Day before pulling off the flyover surprise that had your whole school buzzing with excitement. "I don't think you ate enough today. Let's remedy that."
"No," he insisted, pulling you back down when you tried to stand. "I can wait a bit longer. We were just getting comfortable."
"Mmm," you hummed. "Did you notice Marty and Ms. Masters earlier? I think there might be something there."
"I did notice," he whispered. "There has to be something there. He was looking at her the way I look at you."
With a smile on your lips, you felt yourself succumbing to the warmth of his body and his deep voice and his big hands.
Soon your eyes were closed, and you were drifting to sleep.
---------------------------
Bradley's growling stomach was the least of his concerns as you dozed in his arms and drooled on his Golden Warriors patch. You were clearly exhausted from how busy and emotional this week was. He'd only just returned from a mission where you and he hadn't spoken for weeks, and then you hosted Career Day at work. Hell, he was still tired, and he'd taken the week off from work.
He thought he had himself under control. He thought he would be able to bring you home and let you have a relaxing Friday night. After all, he was in no hurry. But as soon as you told him forever sounded really good, he felt his muscles coil with anticipation. His body told him to get up and prove to you that forever was what he needed. All he had to do was walk into the bathroom and get the engagement ring.
You seemed to be able to feel the energy he was trying to reel in even as you started to fall asleep. Tonight was not the night. Truly all he wanted to do was hold you until tomorrow morning and let you rest, but his foot was bouncing gently. There was always the chance you'd say no or that you weren't ready to be engaged yet, and he couldn't stop thinking about it. But previous conversations indicated otherwise, and he knew he was ready for everything.
His head tipped back against the couch in frustration. He should have told Nat that he wanted to propose sooner rather than later, but she didn't even know he actually had his mother's ring. His best friend would have riled him up more before helping him calm down.
After kissing your forehead a few times to test how asleep you were, he unzipped the side pocket of his flight suit and carefully removed his phone. You shifted a bit, and your nose twitched in the most adorable way, but you dozed on while he texted Nat to see if she could help him out tomorrow. She already told him numerous times that she liked hanging out with you.
"Bradley," you mumbled, arching your back and stretching as soon as he set his phone down on the couch. "You need dinner," you told him with a soft kiss before standing and reaching for him. He took your left hand in his right one, hoping this might be the last night that you weren't wearing the ring that would signify to everyone else that you'd be his wife someday.
"I came up with a plan while you napped," he said softly. "Dinner and then a shower together and then we'll get in bed early. You look so tired after nailing Career Day, Gorgeous. You need a little break."
His stomach growled obnoxiously. "And you need to eat," you told him with a laugh. "Come on. I'll make you something."
"Nope," he replied, gripping you tight as he stood up with you in his arms. "I'm going to take care of it."
You held on as you guided your legs around his waist. Your lips on his scarred cheek took him all the way back to the early days of those flirtatious emails. "Okay, handsome," you whispered, kissing him softly. "I'm not going to argue with you tonight. It's our first weekend with you back home, and I've been missing all of this. I'm finally off tomorrow, and we can relax all day."
When Bradley set you down on the kitchen counter with a kiss to your perfect lips, he heard your phone vibrating on the coffee table and tried not to grin as he asked, "Want me to grab that for you?"
"Please," you replied, looking beyond cute perched between the stove and the wilted bouquet in the makeshift Miller High Life vase. When he backtracked and picked up your phone, Bradley saw that the text notification was from Nat, and he knew he was going to have to take her out for another steak dinner soon as a thank you.
"Oh," you said when you tapped your screen. "Natasha texted me."
"Really?" he asked, feigning surprise as he took inventory of what the refrigerator had to offer. It was honestly a little scary how much he'd eaten since Monday.
"Yeah," you murmured, eyes skimming the message. "She thanked me for inviting her to Career Day. And," you added, giving him a cautious look, "she wants to know if I want to hang out with her tomorrow afternoon. We still have money left on the winery gift card."
"You should go," he urged, pulling everything out to make pancakes for dinner. "I love that my girl gets along with my best friend."
You were chewing your lip nervously. "Yeah?" you asked, thumbs poised like you were ready to type back. "Even though I literally just told you I can't wait to relax with you tomorrow?"
Bradley chuckled, knowing he was leading you in the direction he wanted you to go. But of course you'd be in good hands. "Gorgeous, we can still sleep in late. And as soon as you get home, I'm hoping you'll feel so in love, you'll want to cuddle with me for the rest of the night."
"I always feel so in love with you, Bradley."
He abandoned the eggs and butter as he whispered, "Say my name again?"
"Bradley."
It was another hour before the pancakes were ready.
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"I thought we were going to sleep in," you whispered, lips brushing Bradley's as his hands explored your naked body. It was around the time you usually woke up for work, and you were still tired. But his words had you pushing him onto his back.
"I missed you so much, I'm still making up for lost time."
His hands were big and rough as you took them in yours and pinned them above his head. His body was beautiful in the early light, all muscular angles and ruddy cheeks. You kissed his biceps and then his stubbled cheek and then his lips. He was already hard, you could feel him. Bradley was strong and sexy, and he was yours.
"I'm not going to lie... I love how much you missed me," you told him before kissing your way along the side of his nose. "Because that's how much I missed you, too."
Bradley's kisses were sweet, yet they lingered. Your hips moved slowly against his body, setting the pace exactly how you wanted it. Your reaction to him was always effortless. His wide pupils let you know it was the same for him.
"Baby," he whined as you tightened your hold on his wrists. He was rubbing himself up against you, looking for the friction you needed as well. Slick with arousal, your pussy welcomed the tip of him, and you rolled your hips slowly, taking him inch by inch until you were full. "Oh, fuck, Gorgeous," he rasped, lips parted as he looked up at you with those pretty brown eyes. "You feel so good."
You went slowly, and your hands eventually found their way to his shoulders. Bradley coaxed you closer until you were kissing him as you worked your hips in a steady rhythm that you knew would give you both what you wanted. You thought about every cold morning you woke up here without him while a bead of sweat rolled down along your spine. You got lost in the way he smelled and how his hair felt between your fingers. He was yours.
"I love you," he groaned. "Oh, I love you so much."
You came on his cock as your movements turned jerky, and he filled you with cum as you whimpered his name. Then you eased your body down so you were laying on top of him. "This is how I want to spend the rest of my life," Bradley whispered. "Loving you and fucking you and cuddling."
With a soft laugh, you relaxed enough to fall asleep again while he ran his fingers along your back.
The next time you woke up, it was three hours later, and Bradley wasn't in bed. He wasn't even at home. After you pulled on his sweatshirt, you found a note on top of the sandwich he made for your lunch in the refrigerator.
Out for a quick run with Nat, and then I'm stopping at Home Depot for Edith. I love you.
You enjoyed your sandwich quietly in the kitchen while taking inventory of the grocery situation. Bradley already ate everything which made you smile. It would take a few weeks, but you'd make sure he bulked up again. Maybe you could get him to go shopping with you tomorrow morning.
When you sat down on the couch with your phone, you were pleasantly reminded of how sore you still were from the past few days with Bradley back from deployment. The gentle ache brought with it the memory of how much better your orgasms were with him than alone. You really needed to start getting dressed since you were sure Nat was going to want to head to the winery after they finished their run, but you stayed sprawled out on the couch until Bradley walked back inside.
"Hey, Gorgeous," he rasped, still a little sweaty in his gym clothes and carrying a bag from the hardware store. "You got enough rest?"
"I did," you giggled as he tossed the bag onto the coffee table and straddled your waist. "Do you think we should buy a bigger couch at some point?"
"Nah. This one's more fun," he replied as your fingers threaded through his damp hair. "Means I can get nice and close."
Would this needy feeling for him ever go away? You hoped not. But just as soon as he really kissed you nice and hard, he was pulling away. Bradley smacked you lightly on your rear end where he spanked you the other night.
"You better get ready to go with Nat. And I need to fix Edith's mailbox and get my free piano lesson."
"And then when I get home, we're cuddling and watching a movie right here," you told him firmly, patting the couch cushion.
"As long as you still want to."
You rolled your eyes. Of course that's what you were going to want to do. Maybe you and he could even enjoy some more wine after you had wine with his friend. You were smiling as you thought about the plethora of wine you might be enjoying today as you got dressed in some jeans and an oversized sweater. You skipped makeup, because it was Saturday, and when Natasha arrived, you walked outside with Bradley.
"I love you. Call if you need me," he crooned, kissing you and waving before turning toward Edith's house.
You must have been watching the sexy way he walked for a little too long, because Natasha honked her horn and yelled out the window, "I want some wine!"
"Sorry!" you told her, laughing as you climbed in the passenger seat.
She was pulling away from the curb when she replied, "It's nice to see you so happy again. You seemed to have a good time at Career Day, and now you're all smiles for your boyfriend."
"I missed him so much," you said, watching Bradley get smaller in the side view mirror as she drove. "I felt instantly better when he got home from Norfolk."
"You're going to freak out later," she mumbled, making a left turn.
"What?" You weren't sure you'd heard her correctly.
"Nothing. You ready for some wine?"
"Absolutely. We can finish off the gift card," you told her. "And I found another winery for us to try next time that serves frozen wine slushies."
"That sounds like heaven. Thank god you fell in love with Bradley so we can have girls' days."
That put a permanent smile on your face. Just knowing that Natasha thought you and he were a good match really meant a lot. She'd known him for a long time.
"How was your run earlier?" you asked, settling in for the ride.
"Running in February is always better than running in July or August," she replied easily. "I might have to start bringing headphones again though, because the man will not shut up about you the whole time."
You covered your face with your hands while she laughed. "Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. It was so bad at times before he met you, I used to have to put my earbuds in and pretend I was listening to him complain about his exes. It was always the same thing. Nat, I don't know how to break up with her, but she's kind of mean to me. Nat, I can't keep taking her to the bar, because she flirts with everyone else. Nat, why is she being so selfish? Nat, I feel like she's just using me. Nat. Nat. Nat. Nat. Nat." Her voice softened as she said, "It's not like that with you at all. Now he just wants to know if I think his date ideas sound stupid or romantic. And if I think he's crazy for already having you move in."
"What did you tell him?" you asked immediately.
She grinned as she switched lanes. "Trust me when I say I've given him some solid date ideas. And I told him he would have been miserable if he waited any longer to ask you to live with him. That man is so solidly in love with you, it is disgusting."
"The feeling is mutual," you whispered as your cheeks burned.
"I know. Now let's enjoy some wine while we talk shit about him. I've been way too nice today up to this point."
------------------------------------
When Natasha dropped you off after four hours of wine and conversation, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. You were already looking forward to hanging out with her again soon.
"Want me to tell Bradley you'll run with him tomorrow morning?" you asked, leaning back in the passenger side door as you stood next to her car.
"Nope," she replied, shaking her head. "There's no way he's going to want to get up and run in the morning. Tell him I'll see him at work."
"Okay," you replied, confused by her thought process. Bradley usually liked getting his cardio workouts in with a partner rather than alone. You'd follow up with him about it in a minute. "Thanks for driving. Wine slushies next time?"
"Wine slushies next time. Enjoy your night," she said with a wink.
You waved as she drove off, the sky getting dark and the air cooling down even further around you. Edith's mailbox next door looked perfect once more, so Bradley must have finished that project. You shivered as you hustled up to your front door ready to get inside and into the warmth of his arms.
The living room was a little darker than usual when you walked in, and then you realized it was because the only light was coming from your candles which had been placed around the room. You were about to call out for Bradley and ask him why he was burning every single candle you brought with you when you moved in, but then you froze.
"Oh my god," you gasped, taking one stumbling step further into the room to get a closer look. The flickering light illuminated dozens and dozens of paper airplanes all folded up and taped to the dark blue wall above the couch. They were arranged beautifully, and you swallowed hard when you realized they spelled out a message.
MARRY ME?
It was just two words, but they took up the whole wall. Your fingers were shaking as you brought them up to your lips, and then you heard Bradley's voice.
"Hey, Gorgeous," came that familiar rasp. You turned to face him as he stood there in one of his tropical print shirts and his worn out jeans with a nervous smile on his face.
"Bradley?" You glanced at the wall and then back at his face. You weren't even sure if your words were intelligible as you muttered, "Paper planes?"
His smile widened. "It's all the letters you and your class sent to me. You know... when you were looking for a Naval aviator to write back and answer a few questions? I guess a few questions turned into a lot more than that. And a simple correspondence with a gorgeous fourth grade teacher soon made me realize that you're the woman of my dreams. My pen pals changed my whole life." He nodded toward the wall. "Your students helped me fold them up yesterday."
"They did?" you managed as he took a step closer until he was right in front of you, and then and sank down onto one knee.
"They did." He was all vulnerable brown eyes and sincerity as he looked up at you and said, "I love you. And I have something for you, Gorgeous." He swallowed hard. "It was my mom's." He held up his right hand, fingers curled in a loose fist. You watched as he carefully unfurled them, revealing a ring resting on his palm. "I want you to have it. Unless you don't like it. It's from 1984, and it's definitely vintage, so I won't be upset if you tell me you'd rather have something more modern." He was rambling, but you could barely breathe from the butterflies which were fluttering hard against your ribcage. "Maverick was holding onto her engagement ring for safekeeping. I had no idea until he heard me talking about how desperately I want to marry you."
"Bradley," you gasped, trying to hold back your tears as you sucked in shallow breaths. "Are you serious?"
You'd known him for less than a year, but you never felt this comfortable or safe around another person before. You never felt so loved. When he raised his hand a little higher like he was ready to hand you the ring along with his heart, he said, "I'm serious. You told me forever sounds good to you. It sounds good to me, too. I think we should do it. Will you marry me?"
There was really only one acceptable answer when you knew he belonged with you. When you were certain your future and his matched up perfectly. When there was no chance you could love anyone else like you loved him.
"Yes."
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Yes. Yes. Yesss! Thanks kiddos, for making it extra special. I don't think any of them will be surprised to find their teacher sporting some new jewelry at school. Bradley plus Gorgeous equals forever.
Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 25 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Career Day arrives, and you definitely have the coolest collection of adults visiting your classroom. Bradley orchestrates a surprise, hoping you don't realize it's just a cover for something even bigger.
Warnings: fluff, adult language, 18+
Length: 4200 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader
Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist
You were up before your alarm, too excited to stay in bed for a minute longer. When you tried to roll away from Bradley, his knee dug into your butt, and you groaned.
"Morning, Gorgeous," he grunted, arm wrapping around you like a boa constrictor until you were snug up against him again.
"Bradley," you whined, trying to squirm away. "I'm sore from being spanked."
You could hear his soft rumble of laughter as he released you, and you dragged yourself out of the other side of the bed. You weren't sure how you were going to make it through the day like this. You didn't even know if you'd be able to sit down. Still, you couldn't stop the smile that bloomed across your face, and soon Bradley was wearing one to match.
"Maybe we should have saved that for tonight," you whispered, gingerly rubbing your butt as you pulled your most capable looking dress from the closet you now shared with Bradley.
"We can revisit that activity tonight if you'd like." Just when you were about to argue there was no way that was going to happen again just yet, he let his hand slip down to the right side of your butt which went untouched last night. He gave you a little squeeze and whispered, "I'll get breakfast ready. I want you one hundred percent ready to go for Career Day, Baby."
The way he strutted around the house naked was highly distracting, but you had so much to do. You wanted to make sure your hair and makeup were perfect, and you wanted to get to your classroom early. So you got started, and at some point when you were in the bathroom, Bradley must have put his flight suit on. He was wearing it when he knocked on the door, and you told him to come in while you rooted around under the sink, trying to find the lotion you wanted to use.
"What are you doing?" he asked, panic lacing his voice as you glanced up at him.
"Looking for my lotion. The stuff in the blue bottle." You turned back to your task, and a second later, Bradley was in front of you, snatching up the exact thing you were looking for.
"This it?" he asked anxiously, nudging the cabinet closed with his knee as he handed it to you.
"Thanks," you muttered, wondering why he was acting strange as you smoothed the lotion all over your hands and arms.
"Let's eat breakfast before you're late for your big day."
You wanted to argue that it was his big day, too. He could do anything for his presentation, and your kids would eat it up. But for you, Career Day was always a chance for the fourth grade teachers to show off who they were able to get in their classroom. Who had the coolest adults. It was ridiculous, but you were still excited about it.
Bradley's idea of breakfast was an enormous bowl of cereal, toast, muffins and a banana. "I don't have time to finish all of this!"
"I'll eat whatever you don't eat," he promised. And he did. You watched him inhale the rest of the food as you double checked that you had everything in your bag, and then the two of you went out to his Bronco with travel mugs of coffee.
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Bradley was nervous about today. He couldn't pinpoint one reason why, because there were several. First of all, he'd spent so much time in your classroom already, maybe it wasn't the best idea to have him scheduled for last out of all the Career Day participants. The kids were bound to find him stale at some point, and Marty had just scratched the surface of his many talents. He didn't want it to be his fault if things ended on a low note for you today.
Second, he was already hoping and praying that Natasha was going to be able to distract you the way that he wanted. He needed a little bit of help from your students to make this extra special.
And third, just because he thought his mom's retro ring from the early 1980s was cool didn't mean you would. But that was really the least of his concerns. He wanted you to have it if you agreed to marry him, but he'd buy you something else if you so desired.
"You're so quiet," you mused softly, and Bradley almost forgot he was holding your hand while he drove. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he said before clearing his throat. "Just going over what I want to talk to your kids about."
"What are you going to talk about today?"
He smiled and tilted the sun visor a little bit more. "Remember that video I posted on YouTube before I left in December? When I said there would be a quiz? I'm going to quiz them on everything they've learned with me. Stuff from the video and their field trip. Things I talked about in my letters. I'm going to try to stump them."
"I don't think you'll be able to," you said, lacing your fingers with his. "They hang on your every word. Just like I do."
Oh, he wanted you to have an engagement ring on that hand in the worst way. His life had changed so much since your first letter, but he knew pretty early on that he had feelings for you. And he knew as soon as the first date that he would end up here, completely in love with you.
When he pulled into your school parking lot, Bradley drove past all of the empty spots to drop you off at the front doors. "Aren't you coming with me?" you asked him, but he shook his head.
"I don't want to be a distraction for your morning routine. I'll wait out here for Nat and Marty and come inside with everyone else at nine."
"Okay," you replied, but you were looking straight ahead now. "I'm a little nervous."
"Why?" He shifted into park and reached for you.
You sighed against him. "It's ridiculous, but I want my guests to be the coolest ones. The other fourth grade teachers all rolled their eyes at me for even writing to an aviator in the first place."
"Joke's on them. You can't even get rid of me now," Bradley murmured, making you laugh. "You've got Nat and Marty. And one of your kids' parents owns a pizza shop. You're golden, Baby. Coolest fourth grade teacher ever."
You kind of rolled your eyes at him, but you smiled and kissed him before you climbed out. "I'll see you inside."
Bradley had a while to wait for Nat and Marty to arrive, and he considered running to Starbucks for his newest addiction. Instead he grabbed the bag that was tucked underneath his seat and started to sort through all the notes inside. It was a sizable collection now. All of the letters you and your students wrote to him made a stack a few inches thick. Some of the pages were creased and worn, but they would work perfectly for what he had planned.
When Nat tapped on his window, he jolted, sending pages flying.
"Why are you so jumpy?" she asked, opening his door.
"Jesus, Nat. I already told you I was anxious about this!"
She huffed out a breath. "And I already told you that you could put in literally no effort at all, and she would say yes. You could hand her a ring and grunt, 'Marriage?' and she would start planning a wedding."
Bradley laughed as he organized the pages again. "I want it to be special. Butterflies and all that shit. She makes me feel incredible."
His best friend leaned against the door, crossing her arms over her flight suit, and asked, "You still want Marty and I to help with your distraction scheme?"
"I need you to."
"You got it."
--------------------------------
Your students were on their best behavior. The guests were all excited to be there. Bradley kept smiling at you. Your rear end was still sore, but it turns out there was no reason to be nervous at all. Even the music teacher and school librarian decided to hang out in your classroom for part of the day, because your kids talked it up so much.
Nia's mom, a pediatrician, gave a presentation about keeping your body healthy. Oliver's dad talked about designing skyscrapers and then let the kids build with Lego blocks. Now you were listening to Natasha talk about the challenges of landing a fighter jet on an aircraft carrier, and even the parents were enthralled.
"What do you think would happen if I flew in too low?" she asked, pointing at Jackie who had her hand up.
"You could like miss the deck?"
"Absolutely," Nat replied. "And what if I came in from too high?"
Jayden's hand shot up this time. "You could crash!"
"I could indeed," Nat answered seriously. Five more hands shot up in the air as she talked about velocity, and Marty, who was standing next to you at the back of the room, leaned in closer to you.
"Why are you making me go after Lieutenant Trace?" he whispered as she engaged with the kids.
You smiled at the older man in his khaki shirt and dark pants. "You can hold your own, Marty. Trust me." You knew for a fact he arrived with two tool boxes and some engine parts you couldn't even identify. You were already excited for what that meant. He would be just fine.
Suddenly the room erupted in applause as Natasha finished up, and you made your way up to the front of the classroom. "Thank you so much, Lieutenant Trace. Next we will hear from our favorite mechanic whom we met on our field trip to North Island. Marty needs a few minutes to set up, so in the meantime, Nia's mom is going to share some healthy snacks that we can enjoy."
You were going to go stand with Bradley while your classroom dissolved into the soft hum of conversation, but Nat cornered you first. "I just got a text from Maverick about something so exciting, but I need to run it past you first. Can we talk in the hallway?"
"Uh, sure."
You looked around the room before deciding on asking Ms. Masters the librarian to help you out. "Would you mind monitoring things for a couple minutes?"
"I'll take care of it," she promised with a nod, and you knew everyone was in good hands as you slipped out into the hallway with your boyfriend's best friend.
"How would you feel about a flyover today?"
You stared at Natasha, blinking silently at her words. "A flyover?"
"Yeah," she replied casually.
"Like over the school?"
"Mmhmm," she hummed, buffing her nails on her flight suit.
"Are you serious right now?"
"Yes."
You felt like she was being kind of purposely slow to give details as your mind swirled. "You're talking actual Naval aircrafts?"
"Of course," she said with a grin. "I mean, once again, it would be Hangman and Coyote flying them, but even those two can handle holding a simple formation."
Now you were really excited. "How is this actually happening?" you whispered.
"Bradley and I asked Mav about it the other day," she said with a shrug. "Any chance we can walk out to the parking lot and make sure there's enough room for everyone to stand safely?"
When you tried to peek through the rectangular window in your classroom door, Natasha slid her body in front of it. When you tried to look over her head, she seemed to grow several inches as she went up on her tiptoes.
"Yeah... we can go look at the parking lot."
You were wearing your key card on your lanyard, and Ms. Masters could probably keep your class under control for an entire day if you needed her to.
"Well then, let's go."
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As soon as you walked out of the room with Nat, Bradley jumped to action. It wasn't his intention to steamroll Nia's mom or her packs of apple slices, but he had something important he needed the kids to help him with. Marty was setting up some sort of demonstration with tool boxes on the desks in the front row, but Bradley grabbed the stack of papers he brought with him and cleared his throat.
"Do all of you think you can help your pen pal out with something for a few minutes?" Eyes went wide, backs went straight, and Oliver even saluted him as he started handing out the papers. "I brought all of the letters you kiddos sent me last year when I was deployed. There are a lot of them, and I'm going to use them for something special. A surprise for your teacher."
"What kind of surprise?" Henry asked, crunching through a piece of apple.
"I can't tell you that," Bradley replied with a wink. "It's classified."
"Are you really going to marry our teacher someday?" Violet asked as he handed her three of the handwritten notes.
Bradley froze, unsure how to answer. "If she wants to marry me, then I definitely want to marry her."
"She wants to marry you," Violet said easily. "What are we doing with all of these letters?"
"Paper airplanes," Bradley announced, holding up the last sheet of paper. Even the parents and Marty seemed amused now. "We are folding them up into the best looking paper airplanes we can make within the next six minutes or so. Watch how I fold this one, and then work on as many as you can, okay?"
He folded it up using the top of your desk when he needed to smooth the creases, and then he held it up for everyone to see. "Start folding!"
There was a flurry of activity as he walked around helping, and even the librarian and music teacher were getting involved. Bradley whipped through a few himself before walking around the room with an open trash bag.
"When you're done, drop them in here."
"But what are they for?" Oliver asked, dropping three airplanes into the bag. "Are you going to have airplane races with our teacher?"
"Not exactly. All of you are really doing me a favor here though. I promise."
"Do you love our teacher?" Jayden asked. Bradley thought maybe he should have felt silly admitting it in front of all of the adults, but he did it anyway.
"I absolutely do. I'm going to use the paper planes for a little project to show her just how much, okay?" He got several nods in response as he checked the time. You and Nat left seven minutes ago, and he knew he couldn't hope for much more than that. "Time's up! toss everything into the bag. And you can't tell her about any of this!"
You were smiling when you walked back in with Nat. He thought that things must have gone well for everyone as he tied up the bag. Marty was ready to give his presentation, and the kids all scuttled back to their seats.
Now he had everything he needed to make this the best weekend of his life.
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Marty looked a little nervous as he started out by greeting everyone and telling them a bit about himself. He told your class that he had a lot of fun the last time he saw everyone on the naval base. You already knew about his decades-long Naval career, and your students already thought he was extremely cool, but he was about to get even cooler.
"I brought three identical intake manifold pieces from jets exactly like the ones that Lieutenant Bradshaw and Lieutenant Trace fly. Does anyone know how they work?"
Several of your students raised their hands, and you watched as Marty walked around the room with the engine parts and let them answer his questions to the best of their ability before he took over.
"This is fascinating." You turned to your right where Ms. Masters was watching Marty, completely absorbed. "I can't believe you got military clearance to take your class to visit North Island," she whispered.
You were about to tell her that it was really all thanks to Lieutenant Bradshaw when you realized she was perhaps looking at Marty even more than she was paying attention to the engine parts in his rough hands. You cleared your throat softly and said, "You know, meeting Marty was probably the highlight of that whole day. And that includes touring the air traffic control tower."
"Really?" she murmured.
"Mmhmm. He put on a brilliant workshop for us. And he's just the sweetest man. Really takes the time to connect with the kids."
If you knew one thing about Ruby Masters, you knew she loved it when kids got excited about learning something new. And if you knew one thing about women in general, most of them loved a man in uniform. Right now, Marty was absolutely rocking his ensign khakis and his pins, and Ms. Masters stood up a little straighter when he turned your way with a smile on his face.
"Okay, time for some fun," Marty said as he headed back to the front of the classroom. "One manifold has been put together correctly." He held it up in the air once again. "Two are in pieces on these desks. I'm going to take this one apart and put it back together while you watch. Pay close attention, because after that, we're going to have a race."
Your kids looked absolutely delighted, and you had to ask Oliver not to sit on his desk while he watched the demonstration. Even all of the adults in the room were watching intently as Marty worked with a wrench from one of the toolboxes until he finished reassembling everything.
"Pretty simple, right?" he asked. Your kids all nodded and answered yes. "Who thinks they can race me?" You gasped in delight when a few of your students raised their hands. "What if I made it a little easier? What if I was blindfolded?"
"No way," you whispered, meeting Bradley's eyes across the room where he was holding a garbage bag for some reason. "Is he serious?" you whispered.
"He's so serious," Bradley confirmed, and sure enough, Marty pulled a handkerchief from his pocket.
"I'll let your teacher pick my opponent," Marty said as he tied the square of fabric so it was covering his eyes.
You needed to pick a child who would be a gracious winner or loser, but you were almost convinced Marty was going to be able to beat any of them. "How about... Jayden."
You set him up next to Marty, making sure he had all of the tools he needed lined up. Then you gave them a countdown and stepped away again. The room erupted in cheers as Jayden puzzled his way through the task. Marty seemed to be moving smoothly, using muscle memory to do something he'd done hundreds of times before.
"Oh," Ms. Masters said. "It seems like Marty is... really good with his hands."
Your lips parted in surprise. "I'm sure he must be," you replied, trying not to squeal as she smiled and covered her face in embarrassment.
It turns out Jayden didn't stand a chance. "Marty wins!" boomed Bradley's voice, and you watched as the older man peeked out from his blindfold with a hesitant little smile on his face.
You were still applauding his effort as you thanked him for joining your classroom today. You were almost overwhelmed by how wonderfully the day seemed to be going. Bradley was your last guest, and then there was the flyover that Nat promised.
"Our last guest really doesn't need an introduction," you said with a laugh.
"Is it Lieutenant Bradshaw?" Oliver asked, ready to climb on top of his desk again as your boyfriend strolled up to stand next to you.
"Yes, of course it's Lieutenant Bradshaw." You smiled at him and said, "Take it away, Lieutenant."
There was a little smirk on his lips as he turned away from you to address your kids. "I know you all learned a lot about aviation this year, but right now, we're going to see just how much. I hope you all remembered that I said I was going to give you a quiz."
"Not a quiz!" complained Jackie, but Bradley held up his hands in mock surrender.
"If you pass, I can promise with one hundred percent certainty that you'll love the prize."
"There's a prize?" Violet asked, perking up.
"A secret prize," Bradley confirmed.
"Alright," Oliver said, still a little skeptical. "Let's do it."
Bradley started calling out questions, letting your students deliberate as a group to come up with an answer, and you leaned against the back wall near where Marty was packing up his toolboxes.
"That was absolutely fascinating," you heard Ms. Masters tell him softly. "I'm Ruby Masters, the Mira Mesa Elementary librarian."
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Marty with pink cheeks, wiping his palm on his shirt before shaking her hand. "It's nice to meet you," he whispered while Bradley continued to try to stump your kids. "This is the first time I've ever been to a career day."
"Well, you're a natural with the kids," she replied, still holding his hand. "And obviously very smart. I'm kind of new to the topic of aviation, but always interested in learning more."
"Oh. There's an endless amount to learn," he muttered, staring at Ruby like he couldn't look away.
"If you're ever free and feel like it, maybe you could show me how you rebuilt that manifold so quickly?"
Bradley had your kids taking turns writing at the board now, but you couldn't stop eavesdropping as you witnessed Marty go silent. The crash and burn was painful as he just stood there while Ruby finally extracted her hand. You were silently begging Marty to say something. Anything. But the seconds passed, and Ruby took a step away from him toward the door.
"Okay, no worries. It was nice to meet you." She gave you a forced smile as she slipped out into the hallway, and you rounded on Marty who was standing there like someone just stole his favorite toy at recess.
"I don't mean to overstep, so please feel free to tell me to mind my own business," you whispered.
"Uh. Okay?"
"Marty... Ms. Masters is hot and single, and she was flirting with you. She wanted you to ask for her phone number."
His eyes went wide as he gaped at you. "She did? Are you sure?"
You cradled your forehead and groaned softly. "I'm positive. She can't have gone far. The library is out and to the left, and then another left."
He nodded before dashing out of the room, leaving you alone just as Bradley said, "Are you sure you're all still in fourth grade? Or is this a grad school level physics class? You win. I can't even stump you. Come see me or Lieutenant Trace to get ear plugs for the Super Hornet flyover."
Your classroom was probably louder than the jet engine would be.
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The whole school was buzzing with excitement as everyone emptied out onto the lawn and the parking lot. Something must have happened earlier, because Marty and the school librarian were standing awfully close together in all the chaos. As far as Bradley could recall, he'd never seen that man smile so much before.
"Ear plugs in! And then hands over your ears!" Natasha shouted, giving a safety demonstration. "Do it just how I do it!"
It was almost time. Bradley tried to keep the hand holding and cheek kisses to a minimum, but it was so hard when you were standing right next to him. You looked tired but happy as you put your orange, industrial ear plugs in place. With a dreamy look on your face, you leaned up and kissed him right on the lips, and that familiar roar of an F/A-18 engine approached.
Bradley put his own earplugs in before the sound of the jet wash hit. You and everyone else stared up at the sky where his colleagues were flying overhead, but he kept his eyes on you. He was in love. He had Carole's ring and the paper planes. He had all of these words that he wanted to say to you, but mostly he wanted to promise that he'd feel the same way about you forever. And he wanted to hear you say the same thing.
As soon as you had your ear plugs out again, you threw your arms around his neck with a huge smile. "Thank you, Bradley."
"For what? I barely did anything."
You laughed and shook your head. "You did everything."
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I love Career Day. Marty is the man. The oblivious man, but the man nonetheless. And our boy Bradley is ready to go! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls
Summary: Bradley is hoping a new role with the Navy will give him the opportunity to spend more time at home with his family. You offer up the ultimate gift for his birthday.
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.
"What should we do for Daddy's birthday?" you asked your daughter while she nursed. Bradley was working late again. If he didn't actually get this new position at Top Gun when the time arrived, you weren't sure how he was going to take it. He was working so hard right now to try to cut his deployments down by training younger recruits to fly missions instead of actually flying all of them himself. He wanted to be home more, and you wanted him to spend as much time with Rose as he could.
In the meantime, he always felt like a ticking time bomb. Like at any moment he would be taken away again. His most recent special mission ended months ago while you were still pregnant, and it felt surreal at times that he hadn't been called away again.
"We'll do something special," you whispered to Rose. "Daddy always makes my birthday special. He'll always make yours special, too."
Her eyes were bright and alert as she released herself from your breast to yawn while you ran the pad of your thumb gently along her cheek. She had the softest skin and most adorable features. She was going to look just like Bradley, you could already tell. And you had to agree with him when he said he thought she was whip-smart. She always looked around for Tramp and seemed to point to him when she wanted to be licked.
"You're absolutely perfect," you told her, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. Rose's yawns were coming more frequently as you changed her diaper and placed her in her crib. "I'll send Daddy in to say goodnight when he gets home," you promised. Once her sound machine was playing a lullaby, you crept out of the nursery and went to clean up the meager dinner you made for yourself.
Looking in the mirror was still currently your least favorite activity. You were tired, and it was reflected on your face. Your body still seemed to belong to Rose, and you felt a little helpless by the width of your hips and the size of your butt. Your belly was riddled with stretch marks, and every time Bradley saw you in any manner of undress, you couldn't understand how he could get turned on. When you and he had sex, it was almost like he tricked you into believing he was excited to be with you.
The front door shut and you jumped, spinning on the spot to see your husband heading your way. "What a fucking day," he groaned, boots squeaking on the floor. He was still in his flight suit, messy hair threaded with a bit of gray. "I didn't think I would be this late."
He didn't stop until you were wrapped up in his arms. "Why are you still in your boots and flight suit?"
"Wanted to get home faster," he murmured. "I missed you."
The way he ran his big hand down the middle of your back and gave your butt a little squeeze while he kissed you left you breathless. Then he knocked the air clean out of your lungs as he nibbled gently on your lips before whispering, "I'm late for my husband and daddy duties. Is the Nugget already asleep?"
"I think so," you told him, melting into his touch. He was already the best dad in the world for Rose, and his hands up the back of his ratty UVA shirt that you were wearing reminded you how good he was at those husband duties, too. "She seemed tired after I fed her."
Bradley's brown eyes flicked down toward your chest as his stomach growled.
"I can feed you, too," you said with a laugh. "All I had for dinner was some toast and jelly, but I can make you something else."
You didn't even mention the part where you were trying to cut calories so you could lose weight, because he was looking at you like he always did. And his hands were warm on your skin like they always were.
"Don't worry about me. I'll get something after I give Rose a good night kiss and we take a shower together."
You raised one eyebrow. "We're taking a shower together?"
He nodded slowly. "We are, Baby Girl. I'm so worn out, it's probably the only thing that's going to make me feel better."
His right hand strayed to your breast, and your lips parted on a soft sound as his rough fingers found your nipple beneath the shirt. You forgot to feel self conscious as you let your hands slide up his chest until your arms were draped over his shoulders. Your lips were on his like a magnet, and you whimpered at the feel of his rough mustache. Then his tongue was in your mouth, and you were ready to climb him like a tree.
Somehow, you worked him up. It didn't make any sense. He was literally touching your stretch marks now as he rutted against you and grunted your name. "Oh, fuck," he said between kisses. You felt overstimulated, and your breasts were leaking onto your shirt, but it just made his cock harder. "Go get in the shower? I need to take a little peek at Rose, and then I'll be in to do absolutely anything you want. Anything." He started to pull your shirt over your head. "Just let me taste you."
"Jesus Christ, Roo," you moaned, pushing him away. "Hurry up. I'll be in the bathroom."
--------------------------------
Bradley ducked his head inside the baby's nursery. Her music was playing softly, and she was clearly sound asleep in her crib with Tramp snoozing on the floor. He had to take a few deep breaths when he heard the shower turn on across the hallway, and he ran his hand over his face.
"Rosie, I'll be back in a little bit to check on you, okay?" he whispered. "I need Mommy for a few minutes."
He was already unzipping his flight suit and wrenching it down his arms as he walked through the bedroom and into the bathroom. It smelled like your body wash, and he could practically taste your breast milk as he watched you climb in the shower. He was tired, like actually exhausted. There was so much to learn from Maverick and the admirals. There was paperwork and guidelines and things to memorize. There was so much more going on behind the scenes than he realized, and it took all of his focus to keep up. But he wanted a job where he'd be home more and on a carrier less. That way he could see your silhouette through the foggy glass shower door every night.
"Sweetheart." His voice was deep and needy, and you turned to face him.
"What was fast." Your voice echoed beautifully in the enclosed space as he bent to undo his boot laces.
"I'll sneak back in later to see Rose," he rasped, climbing in and closing the door behind him. "I can't wait another minute for you."
He was serious, but you looked a little hesitant and maybe unconvinced as you stood with your back against the tile wall, water hitting your legs and feet. You were rounder in places now, and your body felt like heaven in the palms of his hand. When he considered whether or not an obnoxiously long, hard day of work was worth it, all he had to do was look at your face or hear your voice, and he was convinced it was. But getting to have you like this? It didn't even seem fair.
"My god, you are absolutely fucking perfect."
Maybe you were going to say something to him as you parted your lips, but he leaned in to kiss you before you could. Your warmth and your fingers in his hair could fix any problem he had, he was certain. And he always wanted to be that way for you, too. He wanted to be the reason you knew you had something better to look forward to at the end of the day.
"Bradley," you whined when his cock pressed against your soft belly. Your fingers made their way down to his biceps, and your thumb traced his new tattoo as you looked up at him with wide eyes.
The level of intimacy he felt with you was unparalleled, whether it was sex or just being around you. But he couldn't help but want everything right now when your milk was beading up on your nipples and sliding down the undersides of your tits.
"Will you let me taste you?"
The feral noise you made had him bending slightly to get his mouth on you. None of this should be wasted right now. It was too sweet. You were too fucking warm. Even the steamy air and the water hitting his calves couldn't compete with your breasts. He got down on his knees for better access.
"I'm not going to lie, Roo," you whispered, pushing his hair back from his forehead, "watching you do that is so hot."
He looked up at you as he ran his tongue lazily back and forth. "Watching you do anything is hot, Sweetheart." You whimpered, and he could feel you squeeze your thighs together. "Just be patient. I'll take care of it. I just can't let this go to waste."
You grabbed at his hair and his shoulders as he licked and sucked you dry. Your nipples were furled tight, no longer dripping with that beautiful milk before he stopped. Every time you made a noise, you were rubbing your pussy against him, and Bradley knew he made you wait long enough.
His cock was aching as he sat down and ran his nose along the length of your slit, coaxing your thighs apart with the softest touch. You didn't disappoint, letting him see and smell and taste you to his heart's content. He sucked on your clit before moving his lips to your rooster tattoo, smiling as you moaned impatiently while he kissed you there.
"Please, Bradley." Your voice took on a tone of overstimulation, nipples still tight peaks as you wiggled your hips. "I need it."
He let you have his mouth all over your pussy. Every soaking wet, silky inch if you. He worked his tongue in circles just how he knew you liked it, and he listened to every cue you gave him with your voice. The louder you got, the harder he sucked until your legs shook. Then he backed off and enjoyed the keening sound of your orgasm as you rode his face.
"Please," he begged softly, getting to his feet while you were still coming for him. But you nodded and turned to face the wall, letting him fuck you from behind with both of his hands planted on the tiles. "Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, Sweetheart!"
Barely a dozen good thrusts, and he came as he watched you kiss his hand. He was out of breath and yet still over excited as he nuzzled your neck. "My wife is actually perfect," he whispered.
Even cleaning you up was fun. Every time he ran his hand between your legs, your eyes fluttered closed, and you bit your lip. Then you washed his hair which always turned him into an even bigger mess for you. By the time you turned off the water, he was so sated and still needy for your attention, he followed you everywhere.
Bradley watched you get changed into pajamas before pulling you into bed with him. "I still need to make you dinner," you whispered as he peppered your nose with kisses.
"I can find something myself," he promised. "It's pretty late, and I want you to get enough sleep. I need to go check on the Nugget anyway." He paused when your stomach growled loudly. "What do you want? I'll make something for both of us."
"I already had dinner."
"You had toast. That's not dinner. What do you want?"
You looked up at him and whispered, "A sandwich."
"Done." He kissed your lips and climbed out of bed, pulling on clean boxer briefs. "Give me a five minute head start so I can kiss Rosie, and I'll meet you in the kitchen."
Bradley had to fight the urge to wake his daughter up just to watch her be adorable while he held her, because he felt like he missed the entire day with her. "Still better than being deployed," he whispered, making Tramp leave the nursery with him.
He sent the dog out to the backyard as he tried not to worry about when his next mission might come. Then he made two identical sandwiches and opened a bag of potato chips and a can of beer. And then you were there with him again.
"What do you want to do for your birthday on Friday?" you asked, tucking yourself against his body as you reached for one of the sandwiches. "And don't you dare say you want to spend a day with just the three of us and try to bail to get another tattoo."
He kissed your temple and said, "Nothing else is important enough for me to want to get it tattooed besides you and Rosie, so what I'm about to say is the absolute truth. As soon as we get out of work on Friday, all I want to do is spend the evening with my girls."
"Well, I was thinking...." you started, nibbling at your sandwich. "You know how for my birthday, you reserved the lounge where we went to the silent disco? But then I fell at work and kind of killed that plan?"
"How could I forget?" he replied, downing the rest of his beer. "Reenacting our first date is never going to not be fun for me. Music and hot sauce and falling the fuck in love."
You smiled up at him. "What if I call the bar and see if they'll let us have a little silent disco with Rosie on Friday night? To make up for the one we missed?"
Bradley swore his heart skipped a beat. "I would love that, Baby Girl."
"Then I'll try to make it happen."
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Bradley woke up on Friday morning with your hand wrapped around his cock and your giggling lips next to his ear. "Happy birthday, Roo," you whispered. Your breath was warm and tickled him as he opened his eyes and grunted.
"It's already pretty happy."
He pulled down the covers and watched you jerk him off while your bare breasts were mashed against him. There was a pretty droplet of your milk in his chest hair, and you were telling him all the things you wanted to do to him later. Even when you really gripped him, your fingers didn't quite reach all the way around his cock, and he tucked his arm behind his head to get a better view.
"I was thinking," you whispered, lips brushing his ear, "we could do what we did last year on your birthday. If you want."
Instantly he envisioned the way you let him fuck you in the ass, and he gasped. "Anal?" he asked softly, holding his breath for the answer as you dragged your hand up to the tip of his cock and squeezed.
"Yes."
He instantly came all over himself, white ribbons coating his abs as you kissed his neck. "Fuuuuck," he croaked, already excited for later tonight.
"Damn, Roo. You couldn't even wait until I got my mouth down there?"
He tucked his other arm behind his head as well and watched you kiss your way down his body. "You just promised me your ass, Sweetheart. I don't know what you expected." He went silent again as you ran your tongue around his belly button and started lapping up his cum. You had him on your lips, dragging your tongue through the mess when Rose started crying in her nursery. "Hang on, Nugget! Daddy's enjoying his birthday!"
You smiled up at him and kissed his hip before nudging him toward the edge of the bed. "Go get her ready, and I'll be in shortly."
He leaned down and kissed you before pulling on his underwear and heading to the nursery. He actually loved it when Rose started wailing like this, because he got to enjoy the way she immediately calmed down when he picked her up and gave her a little snuggle.
"You're loud today. Are you saying happy birthday?" he asked, tickling her tummy before changing her wet diaper. She was three months old and absolutely perfect. She could hold her head up on her own, and her eyes seemed to be a slightly different color every day. Bradley was fascinated by his daughter and would have gladly spent the entire day hanging out with her instead of going to work.
He was bouncing her gently in his arms, turning her hunger cries into little giggles when you joined them. "Is she ready for the silent disco tonight?" you asked, settling into the glider chair with your tits on display. He couldn't wait to get you in bed again later, but he was just as excited about going to Del Mar.
"I think so," he crooned, covering his daughter's face in kisses before handing her over so she could eat. "I love you both." Then he kissed her fuzzy hair and your lips before heading back down the hallway to get dressed for work.
Dropping Rose off at the daycare on base every day was still hard, but at least she was with Jeremiah. And Bradley was planning on skipping out early today to take her home and get ready to go out. Not only had you talked the rooftop bar into an hour-long private silent disco, you also made a reservation at the hot sauce restaurant. He was convinced Rose would love both places as much as he did.
As soon as he walked out onto the tarmac, he felt an arm around his shoulders. "Happy birthday, Soul Sister. I can't believe you're forty-eight."
"I'm thirty-eight, Nat."
"Whatever. Still old as fuck."
"I love you, too."
She smirked. "Are you enjoying your new job? All locked away with the admirals up in the tower like you're Rapunzel or something?"
Bradley stopped and swiped a hand along his back. "Did someone tape a sign on me that says It's my birthday, please pick on me?"
"Nah," she replied. "Doesn't need to be your birthday for that. Happy to do it any day of the year."
He followed along at her side again. "I don't actually have a new position yet," he muttered. "I'm just... I don't like being away from them now. It was bad enough before, but I think if someone gave me deployment papers today, I'd probably throw up."
"You're such a dad," his best friend replied, reaching for his hand and giving him a squeeze. "I completely understand why you want to turn into Rapunzel in the tower, Rooster. I probably would as well if I had a daughter. Speaking of, let me know when I can stop by with all the new toys and outfits I got for my goddaughter."
Bradley's imagination drifted to the bedroom activity he was looking forward to later this evening. "Uh, maybe tomorrow or Sunday? Not tonight."
"You got it."
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The ride to Del Mar was familiar now. Bradley's Motown playlist filled the interior of the blue Bronco along with his voice while he drove and played with your wedding rings. The late June sunlight was bright and warm even as it approached 6:30, and you could tell by how relaxed your husband was that he was having a good day.
"I can't believe you're thirty-eight years old."
He gave you side eye. "Listen, Sweetheart, I've still got all the moves, okay? I was just excited this morning, that's all."
You burst into laughter. "That's not what I meant!"
With a playful glare, he parallel parked in front of the hot sauce restaurant. "I feel like you're contractually obligated to be nice to me today, especially after how much Nat picked on me."
You kissed his cheek and whispered, "I'm letting you have my ass. How much nicer could I possibly get."
"Great. Now I have to get my erection under control," he groaned, killing the engine and letting his head tip back. But he was smiling. "I actually think that makes you the nicest."
Honestly, you were a bit nervous. Last year, he barely thrusted before he came, and it still felt like you were being stretched to your limit. More than anything, you wanted him to still find pleasure in your body, but you didn't want him to hurt you.
As if you'd spoken your thoughts out loud, he whispered in your ear, "I'll make it feel good for you, too." Then he was out on the sidewalk, lifting Rose in her car carrier out of the backseat like the most attentive father in the world. She was wearing a little dress covered in flowers. You were also wearing a dress with your boat shoes. "Just look at my beautiful girls," he crooned, draping his right arm over your shoulders and carrying the car seat like it was nothing.
"I can't wait until she's old enough to enjoy some hot sauce," you mused.
"Her first solid food can be a chili pepper."
You snorted. "Rose, I will not let that happen."
You spent dinner coating your food in a rainbow of different hot sauces while Bradley stole bites of your meal and offered up some of his own. Rose kept trying to reach for the bottles with all of the pretty labels, and you watched her cry until Bradley let her play with a plastic one that was brand new and still sealed up tight.
"She's your fucking kid, alright. Won't leave the restaurant without some hot sauce," he told you, signaling for the waiter to add it onto the bill at the end of the meal.
"Stop swearing in front of the baby." You were unable to contain your laughter as you added, "She picked out a good one, too. Excellent taste."
Bradley reached for your hand. "Now to determine if she has good taste in music, too."
After stopping back at the Bronco so Bradley could strap Rose in her carrier against his chest, the three of you walked at a leisurely pace along the main street toward the beachfront lounge. When you approached the pier where you spent plenty of time getting to know each other on your first date, Bradley turned so Rose could look at the setting sun.
"You see that long fishing pier, Nugget?" he murmured, smiling at you. "I took Mommy on the best date of her life, and we made out on that pier until I was on the verge of embarrassing myself."
"Accurate," you added immediately. "It was the best date of my life, but there was nothing you could have done to embarrass yourself."
"I beg to differ. I could have told you I loved you. On our first date."
His eyes were sincere. You knew he fell in love with you fast. He'd already told you as much. But hearing him say the words while he had his big hand wrapped around yours and Rose cradled to his chest left you breathless. "When you tell me now that you were already in love with me on our first date, it's just romantic, Roo."
His smile grew, and you thought all about how much had changed in the past three years as you led him toward the lounge which was lit with string lights. You rode the elevator to the rooftop with your head resting on his shoulder, face to face with your sleepy daughter. She had her little fist up next to her face, rubbing her eye.
"She's going to fall asleep, Roo."
"Nah, she'll last for a few songs. I want a picture of her wearing the headphones."
You forgot how pretty the rooftop was with all the lights and the bar. This time, instead of two sets of headphones, you were handed three, and the woman who was working made a fuss over how cute Rose was.
"I swear she looks just like my wife," Bradley said, showing her off proudly.
The other woman smiled and said, "You have an hour before we open to the public for the night. The DJ will start playing as soon as you're ready."
"Perfect," you told her, and then she was gone, and your husband was giving the DJ a thumbs up. You slid your headphones into place and turned them on to the pink channel. Once Bradley had his on, you changed his channel to match yours and laughed when one of his Motown songs came on.
"Yes," he said with a grin, lowering the volume all the way on the third pair before putting them on Rose. They were of course huge, and he had to hold them in place with one hand, but she smiled when she heard the song. "She likes it!"
"Of course she does. She's your daughter," you said over the music.
Bradley's lips landed on yours, and his free hand gently wrapped around the back of your neck. You stayed like that with Rose between you, getting kiss after kiss from your husband as you danced, occasionally changing the channel on your headphones to blue or green.
The DJ seemed to know what Bradley was going to like best, his face lighting up for almost every song like he was delighted to get to hear it. Rose, on the other hand, was asleep after ten minutes with her cheek squished against him. At least you managed to take one selfie of the three of you before her eyes closed, but now she was napping while you danced and lip synced with Bradley until the music came to a stop. The hour was too short. You wanted it to last longer.
Carefully, you removed Rose's headphones and then your own, handing them over on your way back to the elevator. "Time to go home and get your cake and birthday presents," you whispered as you were taken back down to the first level.
His hand settled on your lower back before drifting down a few inches more. His expression was completely serious as he said, "Baby Girl, I thought this cake was my birthday present."
"If you play your cards right, you can have two kinds of cake tonight."
------------------------------
Bradley is so ridiculously spoiled. Sweet Rosie already likes hot sauce. BG is struggling so much and can't quite see herself the way her husband does. Stay tuned. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls
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