(ignoring the fact that you did numbers and not dates :squint:) 34/feb 4 2023 - a sunday kind of love
and i'm on a lonely road that leads to nowhere/i need a sunday kind of love
bradley's first (and probably, if he's being honest with himself, only) memory of father is hazy. warm, dreamy, diluted, like it's been soaked in sepia. if he thinks hard enough, he remembers (or invites) his dad's curly hair, his long limbs, his boisterous laugh, all of it wrapped around his mother as they sway in the kitchen.
for a while, to him, that's what love was. holding your wife in the middle of your kitchen on sunday morning, swaying clumsily to the record playing from the living room, not caring about the pancakes getting burnt. bradley never cared that his breakfast was late and messed up; he wanted to live in that love that blanketed their whole house.
he spent a lot of his 20s chasing that feeling, that half dream, half fantasy of the perfect life. fell into and out of beds and relationships and had his heart pulverized by jake seresin.
(here is where jake would always interject. "i think we were equal opportunity pulverizers. we liked to take turns," he'd say, with a wink lascivious enough to make bradley shiver).
love, after that, became even more of a pie in the sky. just another thing out of bradley's reach. until it's not.
post-mission (pretty much immediately post, as soon as bradley walks out of medical), jake corners him against a wall and kisses the lights out of him. and then he follows bradley home when they dock, and never leaves.
bradley keeps waiting for it to be difficult. for it to fall apart like it did the first time. for jake to look at him and decide he isn't worth it, isn't worth bradley's high walls and terrible communication, worth the nightmares that predate the mission but have only gotten worse since, worth the stupid arguments they still can't stop getting into.
but no matter what, bradley wakes up every morning to see jake's sleeping face. it seeps in slowly, through early mornings and late nights, afternoon runs and evenings at the hard deck. bradley pays it no mind but all of a sudden, his life has that dreamy quality that he hasn't experienced since he was 3 years old.
"i love you," jake says first, because he was always the brave one. it's early in this new relationship, but deep into their knowing each other.
"iâ" bradley starts and stops, the words like a brick in his throat. after a pause, jake speaks again.
"i know," he says softly, "take your time."
he's spent so much time thinking that this kind of love wasn't in the cards for him. that he used it all up too early on, soaking in it like a greedy, ungrateful child. bradley had come to think of love as something that doesn't come easy.
but maybe it is easy. maybe it's letting jake try to distract him while he makes their eggs. it's listening to jake complain about the same pilot he's been complaining about for weeks, humming in commiseration and feeling at home as jake's voice blankets him. it's wrapping his arms around jake and swaying with him in the kitchen, the same etta james record his father would play every sunday on.
Mae I am so intrigued by the fact that half your titles are drink related. So I have to ask "illegal aperol spritz" and "fake basil smash"? Please tell me more! - Mo
Mo!!! Thanks so much for asking <3
I can't take credit - spotify makes a playlist called "trap mojito" so now all my music playlists (and unnamed wips) have cocktail names because i was very tickled by that. fake basil smash is fake dating (fake...smash...hehe get it...okay i'll see myself out) from bradley's pov (he's the basil, jake's is juniper idk i haven't decided which pov to go with yet), here's an excerpt:
It has nothing to do with stealing an extra few minutes of view at Hangmanâs broad, glistening shoulders, at the way his minuscule shorts tighten across his thighs as he bends over to reach into the fridge.
It canât have anything to do with that because Bradleyâs on a mission here.
âWhat do you want?â Hangman asks, cold water bottle outstretched in Bradleyâs direction.
âBesides the water?â Bradley responds, swiping the plastic and popping the top before downing half of it in one go.
Hangman snorts, leaning back against the counter next to the fridge and crossing his arms. The curl of his lip tells Bradley just how unimpressed he is at Bradleyâs presence in the doorway. âThe ruse of going on a run is over, you can come out and ask me now.â
âWhy do you think I want something?â Bradley asks when heâs done drinking, chest still heaving.
Hangman waves a hand. âYouâre making that face.â
âI donât make a face," Bradley protests. He's way better at poker than people give him credit for.
âTell me what you want, or Iâll push you back out the front door myself.â
illegal aperol spritz is de-aged sereshaw! theyâre fwb but wake up one day with Bradley de-aged and Jake is like why am I stuck taking care of baby bradley when real bradley wonât even date me. idk if i'll ever finish this one because this is basically all i have:
âNot a baby, Jake!â
Jake widens his eyes dramatically. âSorry about that, kid. Youâre right. Youâre practically bigger than me.â
âAm bigger than you,â Baby Bradley grumbles.
Jake tries not to let his hackles rise, wanting to point out theyâre nearly the same size when Bradley isnât all child-ified. He takes a deep breath, reminding himself that thereâs no logic and reasoning to be had with a five-year-old.
thank you @acetonitril & @paulmezcal for tagging me in the wip game!
RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.
IâŠprocrastinate writing by coming up with names for my wips (and playlists) that amuse no one except me and have nothing to do with the fic lol also most of these have like 2 sentences in them but theyâre in the folder so đ€·ââïž
illegal aperol spritz
all of the roads
eternal liquid sunshine
jumbled mojito
fake basil smash
fake juniper smash
deceiving martini
delusional tom collins
sing songs about us in the rain
inevitable sidecar
flaming dr pepper
fleeing paper plane
you next to me
tagging anyone thatâs interested in doing this! lmk and Iâll edit and tag ya
Hey!! I donât know why but when i try to use this link https://callsignvalley.tumblr.com/post/691398690911453184/not-as-active-as-i-used-to-be-but-getting-back to get to your masterlist, it doesnât work on mobile :(
Oh oops!! Itâs probably cause I switched my tumblr url and ao3 name to coconutcordiale! Sorry
Thanks for letting me know nonnie Iâll fix the links đ€
Hey!! I donât know why but when i try to use this link https://callsignvalley.tumblr.com/post/691398690911453184/not-as-active-as-i-used-to-be-but-getting-back to get to your masterlist, it doesnât work on mobile :(
Oh oops!! Itâs probably cause I switched my tumblr url and ao3 name to coconutcordiale! Sorry
Thanks for letting me know nonnie Iâll fix the links đ€
If Bradley were to rank his top 50 Saturday activities, a rodeo wouldnât even make the list. You could give him 100 chances, and he wouldnât name the rodeo. But here he is, leaning against the wood fence, dust clinging to his sweaty face. Because of him.
Jake. The guy he met at the bar last night, who didnât give Bradley his number, but did tell him a name. Enough information to track the cowboy down, to the rodeo thatâs in town. Bradley catches Jakeâs eye under the brim of his hat and winks. Jakeâs toothpick falls into the dust.
