Summary: As the first successful test subject, she’s learned how to live without being burned. Years later, her savior-turned-psycho is dead, yet someone has gotten a hold of the formula in an attempt to recreate the virus. She takes on the role of a self-imposed vigilante, but soon ends up working alongside the Avengers, and a certain hard headed brunette with luscious locks and a gleaming arm.
Word Count: 2.9k
Warnings: arson, violence (that’s all i can think of, but if there’s anything else please let me know!)
Author’s Note: This is the first part of a series that I: 1) have not finished, 2) debated posting, and 3) am very anxious about posting. It’s coming together very slowly, but I wanted to post the first part and see if anyone is intrigued. Feedback is always welcome. Likes and reblogs are always very much appreciated!
Deep in the snow-covered forest of Norway is where Bucky finds himself, trudging through the impacted white powder with Steve and Sam. It’s only the beginning of November, and Bucky is sure he’s experienced colder, but the chill nips at his flesh nonetheless; settles in underneath his thick coat sleeves and pulls goosebumps to the surface. Perhaps it wasn’t just the cold; it was oddly quiet in this part of the forest. It should be teeming with wildlife, but Bucky has yet to hear anything other than the crunch of snow and their short breaths. The silence is deafening, but he welcomes it. Until…
“What exactly are we doing again?” Sam gripes, his breath creating his own personal cloud before dissipating into the chilly air. Bucky surveys the area, but only produces the same results he came up with five minutes ago – nothing but their presence and the trees that surround them from every angle. Steve doesn’t glance at Sam as he continues walking, also taking note of the lack of animals in the vicinity.
“We’re here to extract the girl and bring her back to the compound. Tony said the last time he saw someone with… talents like hers was when Pepper was taken by AIM. Thinks she might know something about that lab blowing up a couple weeks ago, before we got there.” It’s Bucky’s turn to huff. Why did they have to walk through the forest while the rest of the team huddled up on the warm quinjet miles away? Was it really necessary to trek the 134 miles into the woods to reach the cabin? Why was Tony so sure that this was where you settled down? His head snaps up and he sticks his hand out, simultaneously freezing in place while sticking a finger up to tell Steve and Sam to be quiet. “Do you hear that?” He whispers, so low that he’s not even sure Steve hears him at first.
The chorus of a soft song plays behind a softly crackling fire. A feminine voice reaches Bucky and Steve’s ears, quietly humming along to the tune. Either this chick wanted to be found or is an idiot, Bucky snorts to himself before quickly focusing his attention back on his teammates.
Steve motions for the two to move in closer. “Sam, get Redwing up. Get us an idea of what and who we’re dealing with. Just because we only hear one person right now doesn’t mean there aren’t more people in the cabin,” he takes a moment as the inconspicuous drone zips through the air.
Bucky can only describe the look on Sam’s face as perplexed at best. “What’s wrong, bird brain?” A glare is briefly sent his way by none other than Sam, before he returns to his previous state of confusion. “There’s only one human heat signature, but the temp it’s reading at isn’t possible. There’s no way,” his brow furrows. Steve and Bucky exchange an equally confused glance.
“What do you mean, Sam? What’s it reading at?” A moment of silence passes before Sam looks up from the mini monitor adorning his arm. “152 degrees, Cap,” Sam flashes his wrist at the super soldiers before lowering his arm. “Well, I guess Tony wasn’t far off, was he? A literal human inferno,” he mumbles under his breath as Redwing zooms back to its owner. Bucky only dignifies his statement with a concealed eye roll. “What’s the plan?”
“Alright, what do we know?” Tony paces at the front of the conference room, suit discarded for his spare set of clothes. One hand sits in the pocket of his track pants, while the other scratches his chin. Everyone else sits at the table, soot drenched suits still clinging to their bodies. “Killian’s dead. Hansen is dead. Extremis is extremely complex, but that doesn’t negate reason to believe that others have figured the virus out and are trying to recreate it,” Tony mumbles to himself, before stopping and placing his hands on the table firmly. “That facility blew up for a reason, whether good or bad is up to us to figure out.”
Everyone’s brow furrows at the mention of Extremis. “Extremis? I thought you took down AIM,” Natasha pipes up, eyes narrowing in disbelief.
A heavy sigh leaves Tony’s mouth before he sits and runs his hands down his face. “Yeah, I thought so too. Wannabes, maybe trying to replicate the virus. I don’t know. They were close, though. I saw it in one of the labs before it blew up.”
“I’m sorry, but can someone fill the rest of us in?” Sam looks exasperated. “What the hell is Extremis?”
Extremis, he learns, is its own super soldier-like serum. “It’s a virus that rewrites DNA to manipulate the part of the brain that is in charge of reparations and stimulate growth at inhuman speeds. I’m talking ‘cut off an arm and literally watch it grow back’ fast,” Bruce now stands at the front of the table, filling everyone else in. “AIM would mainly recruit veterans who had lost limbs or had severe psychological trauma and inject them with the virus. However, Extremis is very unstable, and most if not all of the people who were infected with it blew themselves up and died. Of course, with the exception of Tony and Pepper. Tony found a way to stabilize it enough that Pep doesn’t have any side effects of it,” Bruce finishes before glancing Tony’s way.
It’s Wanda’s turn to ask, “So… We think that someone is trying to emulate Extremis? If they know it’s so unstable, then why bother?” Tony bites the frame of his glasses before putting them back on and sitting back in his chair, fingers now scratching at his greying beard. “Human bombs. Life-sized, 3000 degree, exploding, unstable bombs that disintegrate anything within a 12.5 yard radius of them and damn near destroy anything else beyond that radius. They’re not trying to create super soldiers, they’re trying to blow things up.
“Up until now, we figured there weren’t any survivors of AIM’s experiment, but now? Now, I’m not so sure. We can assume that either Hydra got a hold of the formula or that someone is trying to dig AIM up from its grave and bring it back to life. What did concern me was this,” Tony brings up a hologram image of a woman running from the lab mid-explosion, skin and eyes tinged a fiery orange. “Whoever it is has the virus. Realistically there’s no way we can bring her in. She’ll melt through any form of handcuffs we try, burn through any kind of straight jacket we try. Hell, she’d probably be able to burn through the floor of the quinjet if she wanted to.”
Bruce lights up as he sits straighter. “Not necessarily. We could find someone to make us equipment out of tungsten. She would explode before she melted them off. It’s a little brittle, but nothing we can’t work with. And we could try out that sedation serum we’ve been working on. Load it into some small vials that Clint could shoot.”
Steve leans forward against the table, shield now at his side. Natasha shakes her head before speaking, exhaustion heavy in her voice. “Say we do bring her in. Then what? Recruit her? Lock her up for the rest of her life? We have to be realistic about the consequences of this, Tony. If she’s really as dangerous as you say she is, then we need to proceed with extreme caution.” Steve’s furrowed brow matches that of Bucky’s and Sam’s, who have both been virtually silent the whole meeting, save for Sam’s question.
“Why don’t we all go take a hot shower and clean up and reconvene in the morning? We’re all exhausted. Dirty. Let’s worry about this tomorrow,” Steve mutters before standing up with his shield in his hand and stalking out of the room, everyone else soon following suit.
The crackling fire was the only noise permeating the air, save for the quiet murmur of the radio and occasional hums that slipped from your lips. “I want to swim away, but don’t know how. Sometimes it feels just like I’m falling in the ocean,” your quiet voice rang, travelling through the empty woods while the large log you leaned against dug into your skin. Hazy shades of orange paint strokes blended together to paint the sky as the sun patiently rose from behind the trees. It was beautiful, something you didn’t think you could ever get used to experiencing.
You were lonely after the destruction of AIM. Not that you weren't grateful to be free, but sometimes you wished you could just be around someone, even if that someone wanted to destroy and conquer the world, and consequently, ruin your life. Does that make me a bad person? You shake your head gently, a sad smile slowly covering your face as you shoot a glance back at the cabin you’d been hiding in for the last three months.
The cabin, when you first found it, sat deep in the woods, untouched for what you could only guess had been decades. Layers of thick dust and spiderwebs decorated corners and furniture alike. It’ll have to do for now, you had thought to yourself. Over the course of the next couple of months, though, you grew to adore the little cabin and all its quirks. The creak of the fourth stair, the slight slant of the kitchen counter that causes the fruit to roll, even the stupid, (newly) broken singing sea bass that hung on the wall of the small living room (there may be a bullet hole or two through it and the wall behind it, but it’s not like you asked it to turn on while you were making lunch and scare the living daylights out of you).
An almost nonexistent mechanical hum pulled you from your thoughts as you glanced up. A frown settles on your face as you stood slowly, watching a drone hover over the cabin before racing back in the direction it came from. Quickly, you leapt over the log and sprinted stealthily into the house, shutting the doors and locking it. Whoever owned it knew you were there, if not from the drone footage, but from the steady fire burning outside.
You paced before opening the bottom cabinet next to the oven and pulling out a small handgun and a couple throwing knives, checking that the gun was loaded. Stairs were climbed two at a time in order to reach the small linen closet, where you pulled out a little jewelry box hidden behind thick blankets and emptied the contents in your palm, before sticking the small rectangular item into the side of your boot and securing it (pant pockets are too obvious, duh).
Stepping into the master bedroom, you dared a peak out of the window that looked over the fire you were previously enjoying. Three figures stood at the perimeter of the property, poorly hidden by a few trees from Y/N’s angle. Maybe they’re just hikers. You’ve seen plenty of them, yeah? Just passing through, is what you tried to tell yourself but a second glance out the window quickly shut those thoughts down as you noted that none of the men were hidden amongst the trees anymore. Instead, they were stalking toward the house, but traveling in different directions almost as if to surround you. All clad in some form of tactical gear, one holding a round shield, one in all black with a gleaming left arm, and the last with what looked like a jetpack on his back.
A silent string of curses left your lips as you stalked down the mini hallway and peaked over the banister. You crouched and listened, calming your heartbeat. You would die before ever going back to working for AIM. A knock to the front door bounced off the walls.
“Hello? We’re not here to hurt you. We just think you might’ve been in the wrong place at the wrong time and want to ask you a few questions.” Although muffled by the door, Y/N can hear the demand clear as day. Wrong place, wrong time my ass.
“Steve, this isn’t an interrogation. We want her to come back willingly. You’re gonna scare her off,” Someone pipes up from the side of the house. A furrowed brow replaces the sour look on your face. What the hell? You also hear a “fuck it,” before the back door lock is picked and quietly swung open. “You were supposed to wait for my go-ahead, Buck,” a different voice mumbles, heavy steps causing the floor downstairs to groan.
Waddling over to the bedroom quietly while crouched proves to be a little more difficult than you anticipated, but you do it in record time and shuts the door quietly. A simple thwack sounds as you unlatch the window and open it, peering down at the ground. You’d survive the jump, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt any less. You land with a soft thud and pray that the three burly men in the cabin don’t hear the sound. Pressing glowing hands to the side of the house, they, along with you eyes, begin to emit a warmth that spreads from your palms to your fingertips and seconds later the wood under ignites as little flames lick the spots. You take your opportunity to flee into the woods but don't get very far before a giant metal frisbee-like object lodges itself into the tree next to your head. Your feet stumble, but you quickly regain balance before pushing yourself from a jog to a full on sprint. What you didn’t expect was to be tackled from the side.
Rolling to a stop, you’re covered by a hefty build sporting a pair of metal wings. “Let me go!” you screams, before grabbing the arm of your attacker and heating up your skin, consequently burning whoever had you pinned. The groan he let out was enough for you to catch him off guard again, bringing a knee up between his legs harshly and pushing him off before scrambling to break into another sprint.
A hand wrapped around your ankle proved to stop you in your tracks, literally. Dragging you down, you kick your other foot in hopes of hitting something while frantically searching yourself for your gun. All you come up with is a knife, but it’ll have to do, you think. Sitting up and shoving the knife in between the plates of the wings, Y/N twists it roughly as it disables the pack on the man’s back before stomping your free foot into his shoulder. A revolting pop sounds and this time you don’t waste a second in finding your footing, but find yourself stunted from another chance at running when the sight of two brawny men stand in front of you. Your whole body glows ominously, frustration kicking in.
“We’re not here to hurt you. Please,” the one with the shield steps forward tentatively. “My name is Steve, Steve Rogers.” You go to take a step back but find the menacing man who tackled you behind you.
Tears build in your eyes, but evaporate from your internal heat before they can reach your cheeks. “I know who you are,” you snarl, the glow growing brighter as time ticked by. A mechanical hum fills your ears again, but heavier than the drone you saw earlier. A quick glance toward the empty sky leaves you bemused, though.
“Cap, stand down. her internal temp is rising. She’ll explode herself before she lets us take her in,” Tony’s voice rings in their ears, but Bucky surprises himself by taking a step forward. “Buck--” Steve starts, but doesn’t finish as he watches Bucky drop his weapons on the ground.
“Let us help you. We aren’t here to hurt you. We need your help,” he takes another small step forward, noticing the flicker in you glow. “Let me help you. I know what it’s like to be cornered. To be used for other’s personal gains. To be so close to the edge of self destruction that there don’t seem to be any other options,” another step, “but you don’t have to go down that path. Help us help you.” All the while, you glow slowly diminishes to a soft orange.
Eyes blink wildly, glancing between the three of the men. “You don’t know me. You don’t know shit,” you breath trembles, before you steels you gaze and stiffens you posture. “I’m not some science experiment you guys get to play with!” you cry out, flinging two knives. One hits Bucky square in the left shoulder, while the other hits Steve in the abdomen. You go to take off, hearing a wheeze and a grunt of, “back up, we need back up” followed by “Barton, now!” and heavy footsteps falling behind you.
Before you get very far, a shooting pain blossoms from your shoulder before a sudden wave of fatigue runs through your body, slowing your steps until you can barely walk. The trees in front of your face double and the hand you stretch out to lean against a tree misses, leaving you lying in a pile of pine needles and dirt before everything went black.
Daryl has always been your lifeline, your escape from a broken home and a rough childhood on the wrong side of Atlanta, Georgia. No matter how hard things got, you had him, and he had you—until Officer Shane Walsh came along and turned your world upside down. As your bond with Daryl starts to unravel, so does the world around you. Now, you’re navigating a post-apocalyptic nightmare, where survival means facing not just the walkers, but trying to repair what you once had with Daryl and Shane’s increasingly aggressive behavior. Set during Seasons 1 & 2 of The Walking Dead. Reader insert.
Important note: For this story's purpose, Daryl is in his 20s during s1 of TWD. Fem reader. Use of Y/N.
warnings: canon violence, mentions of: s/a, drug and alcohol use, abusive parents, domestic violence, (canon) character deaths, violence against mfc
Summary: Two years ago, Reacher left your home with nothing but a note left behind. What does he expect your reaction to be when he shows up at your door, saying you were in danger?
Notes; GIF is not mine, mistakes are my own, friends to lovers trope
**
The faint pattering of the rain on the tin roof of your outdoor garage was the only thing you could hear from the house.
You stared down at the unsaved numbers flooding your most recent call list. Reacher had been on your mind lately.
Which was kind of out of the norm because you hadn’t seen him in years. And you didn’t exactly end on the best of terms either.
He ghosted you. You woke up one random morning and noticed he was gone. A simple note was left behind:
“You’re perfect. You deserve better. I’m sorry.”
I suppose it was better than nothing, but barely.
He was in the Atlanta area and needed some place to crash. You were the first person that came to mind. He knew you were in Atlanta but had no idea which part.
He would have been searching for hours until he happened to walk by the coffee shop you frequented.
You were eating a piece of bacon avocado toast when you felt eyes on you. You looked up to see the mountain of a man known as Reacher, and that was the start of a very slippery slope.
One night turned in six months. Neither of you crossed that boundary but it was very noticeable that there was something romantic between the two of you.
There was something about the way the looked at you that desperately made you wish that you were a telepath.
That man had libraries worth of words in that brain of his and yet he chose to remain quiet every time.
The best part about it was while he was selective with words, his presence spoke volumes whenever he walked into a room.
Little did you know that what was going through his mind when he would look at you was one thing: marriage.
And that scares the hell out of him. He never crossed the line because he knew he would never go back.
That would be the end of it. His time of being a wandered would be over and he would be forever tied to you.
The domestic life would have taken him over, and it would have been completely voluntary. Because he wants to be there, with you.
He would have lived out his life as a husband and as a father. And he knew he wasn’t going to be ready for that, so he left.
Over the course of the six months of you living together, you expected to see him when you got home. He would ask you how was your day was while he cooked dinner for you.
You’ve gotten used to that. You’ve gotten used to him. And then he was gone.
The letter was all you had left of him for two years. And now there is an unsaved number calling you every day for the past week like clock work.
Speaking of, your phone rings once again. It was the same unsaved number, but this timed you answered.
“Hello?” you heard a deep sigh through the phone.
“Reacher,” you added, your palms growing slick.
“Y/N,” he starts, it was almost as if he wasn’t expecting you to answer.
“What, cat got your tongue?” you said unamused.
“You’re in danger Y/N. When can you get to New York City?”
“What makes you think I want you to protect me?”
“Y/N, we don’t have time for this. They threw Franz out of a helicopter after torturing him for information. I need to know that you are safe.” he says all in one breath.
“Franz?” you repeated.
He remained silent for a moment.
“God. I was at his wedding last year,” you said in disbelief.
“How soon can you get to New York?” he repeats.
“I can protect myself, Reacher. Goodbye.”
“Then I’m coming to you,” he says before ending the call. You stared at your phone with your mouth open in disbelief.
You had a feeling that would be a face you would be making often.
**
You already knew who it was from the solid knock reverberating through your house. However, it is better to be safe than sorry.
You had to admit that you’ve been on edge ever since Reacher called you. You only went out for the essentials and even then, those trips were kept minimal.
Taking your Beretta from your table, you check the chamber and clicked off the safety as you made your way towards the door. Opening the door, you had the barrel of the gun pressed against it.
Much to your surprise, it was not just Reacher at your front door. O’Donnel, Neagley and Dixon were standing behind him.
“I was hoping you weren’t serious,” you start.
“When have you ever known me to joke?”he retorts.
“There was a time that I knew you to have integrity. Obviously that has changed.” you said, clicking the safety back on.
You walked back inside and tucked your gun under your waist band. Reacher took that as an invitation to enter and the rest of the group followed.
Reacher couldn’t help but look around the familiar house. You still liked to keep the house smelling of citrus with a dash of honey.
He loved the smell. It reminded him of Christmas. Reminded him of home. He almost ran into you when you stopped to turn around.
Your glossed over eyes met his and while your gaze remained on his face, his explored every detail.
Your voluminous, curly hair just barely touched your shoulders. Your favorite crop top and sweatpants outfit you wore more often than not. Your fuzzy Crocs that he initially hated but he grew to love.
He grew to love you.
O’Donnel and Neagley shared a look at how cold you were being towards Reacher.
Of course they didn’t know about what happened between you before. So as far as they were concerned, it was unwarranted.
“You guys didn’t need to come all the way over here. Like I told Reacher, I can handle myself.” You explained, breaking the silence.
“I’m sure Franz thought the same thing,” Neagley starts.
“We’re not losing anyone else. And I know I’m not your favorite person right now, but you’re just going to suck it up for the time being.” Reacher stampedes.
“If you somehow think you can just burst into my home and my life, and stick your chest out while you give orders. You’re insane. But if you really expect me to listen, you can fuck off.” You snark, crossing your game and narrowing your eyes at him.
“Okay, obviously we missed a few chapters.” O’Donnel voiced.
The group looked between you and Reacher for a moment until Dixon spoke up, “Whatever bad blood you two have, set it aside. I can guarantee you, it’s not worth your lives.”
“Yeah, we started coming up with a plan of action but it didn’t really get anywhere because Reacher was adamant about getting in touch with you. So now that we’re all together where can we start?” O’Donell facilitates.
“What do we have so far?” you questioned, giving Reacher one last pointed look before sitting down.
hi navy!! i was wondering if you or the rest of your followers could help me find a fic? i’m pretty sure it’s a bucky x reader au based off the movie the proposal. i have been searching everywhere for it and cannot find it, i don’t remember who wrote it or the last time i read it (it’s probably been a couple years, at this point). thank you!!
Summary: Social Media AU, Y/N L/N is the perfect sorority girl. (She even has a 4.0 gpa in fashion merchandising) But when her boyfriend breaks up with her for being ‘too blonde’, she has to prove she can be serious too.
A/N: This will be based off both the movie and the musical
Summary: You and Bucky used to be in a relationship. Feelings were hurt, you left. Now, it’s been two years and you’re back. You both will handle the reunion well, won’t you?
Main Warnings for the series: Angst, Self-Hatred, Complicated Relationships, Toxic Relationships, Break Up, Mental Health Issues, future smut, Bucky Barnes Feels, Avenger Reader, Original Female Character, Original Male Character, Bucky Angst, romantic relationship between a therapist and an ex-patient,, mentions of injury, mention of gunshot, unexpected pregnancy, medical procedures that might be poorly written. Other warnings on each chapter.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26 (Final)
After the End:
Vilsen - story written by @lostinthoughtsandfeelings inspired by the LFAH universe.
Sarah comes to town for the holidays. A continuation of New in Town chapters 1-7 found on Tumblr here.
Pairing: Best Friend's Dad!Joel Miller x Female Reader
CW: No use of Y/N. Age gap (reader is 35 Joel is 47, not a focus of the fic). Minors DNI, 18+ only
Length: 6.7k
AO3 | First Chapter | Previous Chapter
“You’re sure?” Joel asked, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he held you close.
“I’m sure,” you smiled a little and he sighed, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“Not lookin’ forward to not seeing you for a few days,” he said, his skin warm and soft on yours.
“I’ll be around all the time,” you laughed a little. “I’m coming over for dinner and for the Christmas stuff Sarah has planned…”
“Not the same,” he replied. “Can’t just touch you whenever I want, kiss you whenever I want… You sure you want to wait to tell her until after the holidays?”
Joel’s face was drawn and concerned and, if it didn’t make him look so sad it would have made you laugh. It was just a few days. A few days of not being together all the time, a few days of sleeping apart, a few days where the tangle your separate lives had knotted themselves into had to untwist and exist independent of each other.
Joel was, apparently, not a fan.
In his defense, neither were you. Though you were taking it better than Joel. But you didn’t want to change how things had been going any more than he did. In the few weeks since the football game, you’d practically been living together. It just wasn’t at any house in particular. Joel had a drawer and a razor at your place, you had a dedicated corner of the closet and a whole separate set of skin care products and makeup at his. You’d started doing everything together, not able to really get enough of each other, the only time you were really apart when the two of you were at work.
The last hurdle your relationship had was talking to Sarah, something Joel was far more ready to do than you were.
You’d had one good scare right after the football game while snuggling with Joel the next morning. You were reading the news on your phone and sipping coffee he’d been nice enough to get out of bed to make after fucking you silly. You hadn’t even put underwear back on, considering asking for round two by just sucking him off when you got a text from Sarah.
“Have fun at the Longhorns game?” She wrote.
“Oh shit!” You yelped, sitting bolt upright so fast your coffee sloshed out of your mug and onto your comforter.
“You alright?” Joel frowned as you set your mug on your bedside table with a little too much force.
“Sarah knows,” you looked at him, eyes wide, turning the phone so he could see the text. “She knows, Joel. She knows and she found out from someone who isn’t us, oh my GOD…”
He took the phone, his hand in the middle of your back as you quietly panicked.
“She just knows you were at the game,” Joel said, handing you your phone and kissing your bare shoulder. “She could have just texted Tommy and maybe he mentioned you.”
You took the phone back and read the message two more times.
“Right,” you said, your heart still racing. “Right, OK…”
You texted back.
“It was a blast! How’d you know I was there? Haven’t talked to you in a few days. How’s Tinder boy btw?”
You gnawed on your lower lip while you waited for the text back, your stomach in knots.
“Saw you on TV!” She replied. “Or my friend from HS did because she recognized my dad. She got excited and texted to tell me with photo evidence that he was famous now lol”
You suddenly remembered the kiss cam. Your stomach sank.
“Can I see the pic?” You sent back. “Gotta see me as a TV star!”
It took a minute but she texted you a picture of a zoomed in crowd shot. You were looking intently up at Joel as he gestured to something down at the field with a serious look on his face. It was probably while he was explaining the game to you, before you’d blurted out that you were in love with him. It would be perfectly platonic if you didn’t read into the look on your face.
“Oh thank fuck,” you flopped back down in the bed, leaning against Joel. “It’s just this, sounds like she didn’t watch the game. We’re safe.”
That had been the big push behind figuring out how to tell Sarah. You both agreed it had to happen and sooner rather than later. You loved Joel too much to give him up and he seemed to feel the same about you.
It had been Joel who proposed telling her over Thanksgiving. She was coming to town and he wanted to talk with her in person. Get her on board and then have you over as his girlfriend for the holiday.
You’d vetoed that.
Not that you didn’t want to tell Sarah. Or want Sarah to know, at least. She was your best friend and you weren’t good at all the sneaking around this relationship apparently required. You wanted her to know and be happy and excited for you and to be able to tell her how fucking happy you were.
But you’d always envied Sarah’s relationship with her father and she’d told you just how important the holidays had been for the two of them.
“My dad always really tried,” she’d told you once, when Christmas decor had started going up around Seattle and she was feeling nostalgic. “He made it all magic, you know? Now that I’m all grown up and shit, I know money was tight but he always made sure I had the perfect Christmas. He learned to cook a turkey so we’d have actual Thanksgiving, he always watched the parade with me and made those cinnamon rolls that came in a can and we always decorated for Christmas the day after then watched a bunch of Christmas movies. I hate to think of what he had to give up to make sure I got what I wanted under the tree but I know he must have.”
It was the kind of relationship you’d dreamed of having with your parents when you were a girl. Not even the part where they scrimped and saved to give you whatever toy you were clamoring for at the time, just the part where they cared enough to make the world seem like there was magic in it. Things like ornaments and cinnamon rolls and watching Christmas movies with purpose instead just because they were on TV and your aunt was bored with channel scrolling. Now that you were an adult, you thought it was probably because your mom couldn’t afford anything that she just pretended Christmas wasn’t happening. The fact that there were no gifts was less noticeable when there was no sign they should be there at all.
But regardless of the reason, it left a hollow place in you where you felt like some sort of fond memory - some echo of the childish notion that the world was soft and good - should be.
You didn’t want to disrupt that for Sarah and Joel.
If you waited until after the new year to tell her, you figured that would give her some time to move past it before it would be too disruptive to their lives. Because of course she would need to move past it.
Sarah had every reason to be upset about this. Regardless of the fact that you were in love with Joel and he with you, that you made each other happy, that you were starting to hope that you’d get to love him forever, you’d still gone behind her back and fucked her dad. The person she loved most and was closest to. It was a betrayal of trust you weren’t sure she could move past. You wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t.
Your biggest concern with it all was how she would feel toward Joel after she found out. The fact that he wasn’t all that much older than you - just 12 years, about the age you tended to seek out, anyway - you didn’t think that was going to matter much to Sarah. She was your friend and he was her father and you were terrified that she might think less of him for going after a woman who was her peer.
If your relationship caused a rift between Sarah and Joel, you weren’t sure you’d ever forgive yourself for that. Of course you wanted to keep Sarah in your life, too. You didn’t have many friends, losing most of them when you moved because adult life wasn’t exactly conducive to maintaining dozens of long distances friendships and you stayed off social media to dodge your father. But Sarah was different. You’d spent more time with her when you were in Seattle than you had with other friends in other places. You’d kept in touch more since you left. She’d become interwoven into the fabric of your life in ways other people never really had and you treasured that.
But if she hated your relationship with Joel so much that she needed to cut one of you out, you’d let her and Joel go before she even needed to make the call. There was no way you’d let yourself be the thing that ruined the father-daughter relationship you’d wished you had your entire life.
No, it was worth spending the holidays on your own if it meant preserving Sarah and Joel’s relationship and giving them both a chance to have another year of the traditions that meant so much to them both.
While you thought just avoiding Joel while Sarah was in town was the smart thing to do - you’d gotten too in the habit of touching him and kissing him all the time - Sarah hadn’t left you much choice. She’d all but begged you to come to Thanksgiving on your most recent FaceTime, her eyes looking almost suspiciously wide when she did.
“I know you don’t have plans,” she said when you’d tried to say no.
“Maybe I already have dinner reservations,” you said. “Maybe I have a boyfriend I’m going to go with.”
She scoffed.
“I know you,” she rolled her eyes. “If you had one of those you’d have gushed to me about his dick already.”
You almost choked on your coffee at that. The only reason you weren’t with your boyfriend that second was because you were going to his place that night and he was still at work. And you certainly weren’t about to talk about his dick with Sarah.
“I just don’t want to crash in on family time,” you said once you stopped coughing and had wiped your phone screen clean of the splatter. “I know you’ve got your traditions and shit, I don’t want to get in the way of that.”
“It’s just my dad and Tommy and Maria,” she rolled her eyes. “Not like it’s tea with the queen. And you’ve hung out with them already. Come on! I want to see you! And you should have a nice Thanksgiving, too! Don’t make me beg, I’m really obnoxious when I beg.”
“Fine,” you sighed, flopping back against the couch a little harder than you should. “I’ll come to Thanksgiving…”
“Yes!” She punched the air in victory. “Believe it or not, my dad makes a good turkey. And you’re going to love the Christmas movie marathon, we always eat popcorn mixed with the holiday chocolate…”
You frowned.
“I said I was coming for Thanksgiving,” you said. “Not the whole weekend.”
“Black Friday is part of Thanksgiving,” she waved you off. “You eat leftovers all day, it’s basically the same thing. And you already said yes so you’re coming. I can’t wait!”
Sarah’s plane was landing in two hours. Well, just under. One hour and 57 minutes but who was counting. You were soaking up the last of your time with Joel before the holiday started. You’d fully intended on doing something besides fuck him but that had quickly fallen through, the two of you ending up in bed before you could even fully discuss where to possibly get food.
“I know you’re worried,” he said softly and you sighed.
“She has every reason to be upset about this,” you said. “And I’d rather the issues come up when there’s time and space to work on them, not during the holidays where she might feel like she has to get over stuff too soon and ends up resenting it.”
And there was, of course, the things you weren’t saying to Joel. What if she didn’t get over it? What if she gave Joel an ultimatum: you or her?
Of course he would choose her. He wouldn’t even hesitate to choose her. And he should choose her, you wouldn’t even try to fight him on it. If he called and told you it was over because of Sarah, you’d be heartbroken but you’d understand it and then you’d be without them both.
What if it didn’t come to that but things got so rocky between the two of them that he made the call that it had to end? Joel was nothing if not an amazing father, he would always do whatever he could to do right by his daughter and that would include cutting you out of his life.
You weren’t ready to face that possibility. You wanted a chance to brace yourself for it first, have some more time with Joel first. Something you could hang on to if you were stuck starting from scratch and had to download the stupid dating apps again.
“She’s going to be happy for us,” he brushed your hair back, his large hand warm and comforting against you. “She might be freaked out at first but she’ll be happy that we’re happy.”
“And you know this because the large sample size of ex girlfriends you’ve introduced to her?” You asked, brows raised. He glared at you. You knew he’d never had anyone he’d even considered introducing to Sarah before. “Yeah. Exactly.”
“It’s going to be OK,” he said, kissing you again. “Promise it is. But we’ll wait if that’s really what you want to do. This is about us, not gonna do anything without you.”
You walked Joel to his truck when he had to leave for the airport, wrapping your arms around his waist and breathing him in as he held onto you.
“See you in a day and a half,” he said, kissing your forehead. “Miss you already.”
“Miss you too,” you said, separating from him reluctantly. You stood in front of your building, watching his truck drive away until he was out of sight.
***
The turkey was in the oven, Maria had volunteered pies and sweet potatoes, you were bringing rolls and green bean casserole, there were a few hours before potatoes needed to go on the stove. Joel was pretty sure he had things under control.
He poured himself a cup of coffee and added the Bailey’s Sarah had insisted on picking up the day before before putting a few cinnamon rolls on a plate and joining her in the living room.
“Remember how much SpongeBob annoyed you when I was a kid?” She asked, holding up the other side of the blanket she was curled up under for Joel to join her.
“Hard to forget,” Joel smiled a little, sitting beside her. She draped the blanket over his legs before getting her spiked coffee off the side table. “God, that voice was so annoying.”
“He’s been a balloon in the parade almost 20 years now apparently,” she said, smiling a little smugly as she nodded toward the giant yellow sponge on TV. “Looks like you’re the odd man out.”
He smiled broader.
“Used to that,” he replied.
Joel loved having Sarah home, especially this time of year. It felt right, like the two of them were always supposed to be together. They didn’t need to even be doing anything special, just sitting at home and watching TV or having dinner. It seemed like they were meant to live their lives side by side, sharing in all the highs and lows.
But, for the first time around the holidays, it felt like something was missing. Joel just kept picturing you there, where you were supposed to be. He reached over and searched for your soft warmth when he woke up, disoriented when he didn’t find you. He almost made you a cup of coffee this morning on autopilot, some part of him knowing that you were supposed to be there, too. You were supposed to be there the night before when he and Sarah made the annual pre-Thanksgiving fridge clean out meal, finding a way to eat through anything that might disrupt the placement of feast leftovers the next day as the turkey finished defrosting in the sink. You were supposed to be there laughing at the stand up comedy Sarah put on while they cut up carrots and celery and onions for stuffing before going to bed. You were definitely supposed to be there watching the parade, tucked against his side and drinking coffee while the balloons and the floats went by.
He loved you so much he wanted you in every part of his life. You were supposed to be there, making all of it better.
“Everything OK?” Sarah frowned as the parade went to commercial.
“Course,” Joel said, putting his arm over the back of the couch so she could lean against him. She’d know soon. Then you’d be here, too. “You’re here.”
You came over a little early. Sarah was in her room getting ready when the doorbell rang and Joel all but raced to answer it. Your hands were full and he took a dish from you before pulling you in for a hug and a kiss, your eyes wide as he did.
“Sarah’s getting dressed,” he said quickly before giving you another kiss. “Gettin’ it in while I can.”
“Oh, well in that case,” you smiled against him, kissing him deeply before stepping back. “I do need to use the oven. Or at least the toaster oven. Which is why I came by early.”
“Oh, is that why?” He teased, leading you inside and closing the door behind you.
“Yes,” you said, following him to the kitchen. “No ulterior motives at all. Just wanted to make sure things could work logistically, I’m nice like that. Very weird ringing the doorbell, by the way. Don’t think I like it.”
“Know I don’t,” he said, putting the dish on the counter. You set the other one next to it. “Gave you a key for a reason. Like you just comin’ in like you live here.”
“Oh yeah?” You bit your lip and backed into the counter before you took a handful of Joel’s button down shirt and tugged him against you. Your eyes were practically shining and you looked so fucking pretty, your hair all done up, a soft velvet dress that hugged your curves that Joel desperately wanted to shove up around your waist so he could fuck you deep. “Like me in your house?”
“My house,” he kissed you and pressed himself against you. “My bed.” He kissed you again. “My whole damn life.”
“Was that the door bell?” Sarah yelled from her room and you practically shoved Joel back from you. He leaned in and gave you a final kiss to the temple.
“Just me!” You yelled back. “The best friend you insisted on having around, don’t rush on my account!”
Joel smiled a little. Everything was going to work out. One day, you’d be living here and Sarah would come over and he’d smile while the the two of you talked like the old friends you were. It was all going to be OK. He could feel it.
Sarah shrieked as she hurtled into the kitchen, sliding on the tile and slamming into you as you laughed, hugging her.
“It’s so good to see you! Want a drink?” She stepped back before checking her watch. “I’m still on Irish coffee but it’s not too early to move on to wine. Oh! Or! I found this Thanksgiving cocktail recipe online the other day, I’ve got enough to make a few pitchers and there’s no reason we can’t start that right now.”
“Coffee sounds great,” you smiled. “And then we can talk about the cocktails because I want to see this recipe of yours.”
“It’s not a Miller Family Thanksgiving without plenty of booze,” Sarah laughed as she poured you a mug of coffee and got the Bailey’s out. “But in a fun way, not a dysfunctional way.” She handed you the mug and you took a sip. She smiled. “There. You’re officially a Miller now. Give me like two minutes, I’m only half way done with my hair, be right back.”
She went back to her room and you raised your brows at Joel over your mug.
“Hear that?” You teased. “I’m a Miller now.”
Joel’s heart soared at that thought. You with his name, you in his house, you living your life alongside his.
“We should be so lucky.”
You, Sarah and Joel laughed and drank and finished making dinner until the doorbell rang again and Joel went to answer it, leaving you and Sarah alone at the kitchen table.
“Hey hey!” Tommy said, a bottle of bourbon in one hand and a pie in the other when Joel opened the door. “Smells good in here!”
“Sure hope so,” Joel laughed, taking a casserole dish and a pie from Maria. She turned to her husband as she took off her coat.
“Tommy, do not mention anything about Joel and…”
“I know,” he smiled but sounded exasperated. “You’ve drilled this into me. Lips are sealed. Course seems like a moot point because we all know he’s gonna fuck her in the bathroom before dessert…”
“Tommy!” Maria hissed at him. Joel glared.
“What!” He laughed. “Just sayin’, don’t think they’re gonna keep their hands off each other, it’s gonna come out…”
“If it comes out because of you, I’ll deck you,” Joel said. “Mean it.”
“Fine, fine,” he waved him off. “Told you, your secret’s safe with me. Just don’t think it’s all that safe with you.”
Joel ground his teeth a little at that but he had to acknowledge that Tommy had a point. You were here, so close and he couldn’t touch you. All he wanted was to touch you. When Sarah had gotten up to use the bathroom, the second the door clicked shut you grabbed Joel’s shirt again and pulled him in for a deep and desperate kiss. You licked into his mouth and he tried to hold back the needy moan that slipped from his mouth to yours.
“Sorry,” you panted after a second, close enough that he could feel your hot breath on his skin. “Just… needed that.”
“Never apologize for kissin’ me,” he said, a little breathless himself. “Always want you kissing me.”
At dinner, you sat next to Sarah and Joel sat across from her so at least he’d have some distance. He hoped it would make things easier. Instead, it meant that he was just stuck looking at you all through dinner, wishing you weren’t going back to your place after it was done.
“Seemed like y’all picked a great game to go to by the way,” Sarah said as everyone ate. “Texas is having a good season this year, they’re definitely getting a bowl game.”
“Oh, definitely. Always fun to watch those. Would the two of you wanna come over for it?” Tommy asked, looking between you and Joel.
You froze mid chew and your eyes darted to Joel. He looked quickly to Tommy, whose eyes went wide.
“That’s right!” Sarah laughed, not noticing the small meltdown happening around her at the table. “You’re a Longhorns fan now!”
You coughed a little and cleared your throat.
“Yup, basically a college football expert,” you said. “I definitely know what a down is now, for sure.”
Tommy mouthed a quick ‘sorry’ at Joel once Sarah was focused on something else and Joel tried to keep calm. He should have just talked you into telling her now. This felt like a ticking time bomb and Joel was already tired of acting like you were something he should hide.
“Told you you’d have fun!” Sarah said, giving you a hug as she and Joel saw you to the door. “It’ll be even more fun tomorrow. I’m getting roped into going out with a friend from high school for a late lunch but I’ll be home right after and then the movie marathon can begin!”
“Can’t wait,” you gave her a squeeze and gave Joel a smile over her shoulder.
Joel went to hug you goodbye, too. It wouldn’t be that strange, right? Sarah knew you hung out at least occasionally, after all.
“Come by early,” he whispered in your ear before stepping back and speaking at a normal volume. “Good to see you again. Thanks for comin’.”
“Thanks for having me,” you smiled, looking at him with those shining eyes of yours. Fuck, he loved you.
Which is why he wanted you to come over early.
He and Sarah got up at damn near the crack of dawn and hauled the Christmas decorations down from the attic, setting up the nativity scene that was as old as Sarah was, putting out the pictures of her with Santa, the little North Pole village made out of cardboard with paper glued to the side that he and Sarah had colored in when she was nine. She held the ladder still while he strung up the lights outside and they went together to get bagels and coffee and pick out the tree.
Joel remembered getting the tree with Sarah when she was little. He steered her toward the imperfect trees, talking about how much character they had, how the gaps in the branches were perfect for ornaments. He could usually talk the guy in the tree lot down in price because of it and Sarah was excited to have a perfectly imperfect, one of a kind tree.
She still gravitated toward the imperfect trees. Looking for the evergreens with patches and brown spots and finding the tree that looked least like the others on the lot before taking it home and lovingly covering it in tinsel and ornaments until it looked like the most beautiful tree you could find anywhere.
He wanted to share this with you, too. When Sarah had called to tell him that she wanted to invite you for Thanksgiving and for Christmas movies, she’d told him things he didn’t know about you. Things he could have guessed, especially now that he knew about your family, but things that hadn’t occurred to him until she said it.
“She never really did the whole Christmas thing, I don’t think,” she said. “When I asked her about it she just shrugged and said they didn’t celebrate it and I asked if they had some other holiday and she said no, they just didn’t. Isn’t that sad?”
“Some people just don’t enjoy the holidays, baby girl,” he said, even though his heart hurt for you.
“I don’t think that’s what it is, though,” she said. “Come on, we have to invite her for Christmas stuff. She should get to do the fun shit at least once!”
Of course he said yes. He’d want you there anyway but especially now. Even if it was hard with Sarah, he’d want you there.
But Sarah going out for a bit with her friends made it easier. He was usually very selfish with her days at home, having to consciously avoid guilting her for spending time with anyone who wasn’t him. Now, he was thankful for the chance to see you for a little bit without the watchful eye of his daughter there.
Because Sarah was right. You did deserve to have the fun stuff, at least once.
You knocked when you got there while Sarah was gone and smiled when Joel answered the door.
“Hey,” you said, looking at him like just him being there made your entire day.
“Hey,” he said back before grabbing you and kissing you, his fingers knotting in your hair, holding you close to him. He pulled back from you a bit, just to look at you. “Damn. I’ve missed doing that.”
You laughed.
“Me too.”
You went inside and gasped at the living room, your hands covering your mouth.
“What?” He asked.
“It’s gorgeous!” Your eyes were wide. “It’s like the North Pole in here!” You walked slowly around the room, stopping at the little Christmas village and bending over to look at it closer. “Did you make these?”
“Yeah,” Joel smiled, going to stand next to you. “Sarah saw one of these little village things at a friend’s house and wanted one but those damn houses were like 80 bucks a pop. But she really wanted a village, so I brought some empty boxes home from work and got some printer paper and drew out some Christmas house looking patterns on it and we colored it in and glued it all together. I gotta do the annual patch up yet, there’s some peeling paper on the corners…”
You stood up and turned to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him, all gentle at first but then needier, harder.
“Don’t think we have much time,” you said, your voice think with want. “Should probably take your clothes off.”
“As much as I’d love to fuck you,” Joel said, kissing you once more before pulling back from you just a bit, close enough that his nose still brushed yours. “That’s not why I asked you to come over.”
You frowned.
“It’s not?”
“Got something for you,” he kissed you again before separating from you entirely, going to a cabinet against the wall. Inside was a plain white box, tied with a bow. He handed it to you and you smiled a little, taking it.
You untied the ribbon and he watched it float to the floor for a second as you carefully opened the box and you gasped, looking inside it for a moment before looking up at him.
“Joel,” you whispered, tears in your eyes.
He smiled a little.
“I’ll hold the box,” he said, taking it from you so you could use both hands. “Sarah said you didn’t do Christmas as a kid. Thought you might want to here. So you needed a few things…”
You pulled the first piece out of the box, a little ornament of the Chicago flag.
“For where you went to college,” he said. You laughed wetly and set it aside, pulling out the little blown glass bottle of Tabasco sauce next. “Because you love your spicy foods.” You laughed harder at that, actually crying now, and turned the delicate bottle over in your fingers before setting it aside, too. Next was a little metal Space Needle and you laughed, holding it up and watching it glint in the light. “That’s for obvious reasons.”
“Clearly,” you laughed again, drying your eyes with the ornament still in your hands. “Joel…”
“Should be a few more in there,” he said, smiling. You gave him a look and went back into the box. There was a little Texas ornament with a heart over Austin and you held it up, turning it back and forth in the light. “Figured the lone star state needed representation…”
“Of course,” you laughed, setting that ornament next to the others and pulling out the last one. “Oh, Joel…”
It was a little couple with the words “Our First Christmas” written on a ribbon over their heads. Joel’s name was painted on the scarf of one, yours on the other.
“Since I was kinda hoping you’d be around next Christmas, too, thought we could start a collection,” he said. “And now you’ve got a few ornaments of your own.”
“This is…” you said running your thumb over the little people in your palm. “I don’t even have a tree!”
“Sure you do,” he said, nodding to the one in the corner. “You heard Sarah. You’re a Miller now. One more thing in there, Beautiful.”
You frowned, setting the ornament down and nudging aside tissue paper until you got to the bottom. You gasped again and Joel smiled at the sound as you pulled a stocking out of the box. It was simple, red velvet with a forest green trim and a white fur top, your name embroidered across the top of it.
“Not Christmas without a stocking,” he smiled.
You held it in your hands, your fingers running over the soft fur at the top, tracing the gold thread of your name. He set the box aside and put his hands in his back pockets.
“No one’s ever…” your voice was thick and wet and you looked up at him. “This is incredible, Joel. I don’t even know what to say…”
“Just say you’ll spend Christmas with me,” he said. “At least this Christmas. Hopefully a lot more, too, but we’ll start with this one.”
You laughed.
“Good luck getting me to spend time anywhere else now,” you kissed him, your arms around his neck, pressing your front tightly to his. He held you close, his arms going around you, fingers gripping your ribs and hip tight and he kissed you back, kissed you like he never wanted to stop kissing you. Because he didn’t want to stop kissing you. Not now, not ever.
Not even when the two of you realized Sarah was standing in the entry way.
***
“What the fuck?”
The sound of Sarah’s voice made you jump. You all but leapt away from Joel, your eyes wide and wet, the stocking still in your hand.
Joel’s gift had been so damn thoughtful and kind and perfect you’d completely forgotten that Sarah was in town and due home eventually. Even though she arrived a bit earlier than you or apparently Joel had expected.
The gift really had floored you. No one had ever done anything like that for you, had found things just for you, put something together for you so you could be a part of something like a holiday. The only time you’d ever been gone to things like this it had been on the fringes, tacked on as an extra. Which was fine, you understood that. But feeling welcomed into the middle of it all was something else entirely and you were so in love with Joel at that moment it felt like your heart might burst with it.
And then Sarah was there.
“Sarah…” your voice cracked. “I… This…”
“Have you two seriously been fucking this whole time?” She gaped at you.
Your eyes darted to Joel who looked back at you, eyes wide. He clearly wasn’t ready for this conversation right now either.
“I should go,” you said quickly, all but running for the door. “Let you two talk…”
“No, wait!” Joel called after you but you ignored him, ducking around Sarah and out into the yard.
It had gotten dark since you’d come to Joel’s and the Christmas lights on the neighboring houses had turned on, the red and green and white twinkling in the dark as you fought to not sob on your boyfriend’s lawn.
“Shit,” you swore when you realized you’d left your purse inside the house and had no way to get into your damn car to drive yourself home.
Your phone was in your back pocket at least. You pulled it out and went into Uber to order a ride. You could come back later to pick up your car. And your purse. And you had some credit cards loaded on your phone and the corner store down the street from your apartment accepted that at least so you wouldn’t be totally screwed if you needed something before Sarah left town….
The Christmas lights on Joel’s house flipped on and the brightness of it made you flinch.
“Hey,” Joel called and you turned without thinking, wiping your tears on the backs of your sleeve. He was barefoot, his breath rising on the air in front of him.
“I’m leaving,” you managed, holding up your phone. “Go back in, talk to Sarah…”
“Don’t go,” he cut you off, hands up as he cautiously reached for you. “Come back inside, we can all talk and…”
“I’m not going to ruin your relationship with your daughter, Joel,” you sniffed, looking down at the stocking that was still in your hand. “I love you both too much for that…”
“You love him?” Sarah was in the doorway, pulling the door closed behind her and wrapping her arms around her waist as she jogged over to you both. “Ugh, it’s cold out here!”
“Sarah…” you tried to find the words. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t… It’s not like… I know you’re upset…”
“What?” She gaped at you and laughed a little. “Babes, I’m not mad!”
You sniffed and dried your eyes with your sleeve again.
“You’re not?”
“No!” She laughed. “I mean I guess I’m a little ticked that you both hid this from me but I’m just glad I’m not insane!”
“What do you mean?” You shook your head. “I don’t…”
“Bestie!” She came and grabbed your shoulders and met your eyes. “It was a set up! I’ve thought you two would be a great couple for fucking years but I knew you’d freak out if I actually told you that. I kind of hoped things would get there on their own and that you two would hit it off and be friends, why do you think I was so let down when you said you weren’t `hanging out?”
“You…” you frowned, the tears finally slowing. “You were trying to set us up?”
“Yes!” She laughed. “I mean, yeah, it might be a little weird - and please don’t talk to me about my dad the way you have past boyfriends because ew - but you two are my favorite people! You have so much in common and you both deserve something good and I know you’ll be good to each other. I just felt like I was insane for thinking you two would want to hang out once you met and then you didn’t. But I was right!”
“You’re such a dick!” You laughed and she laughed too. “I’ve been freaking out for like two months!”
“Well that’s what you get for not telling me everything,” she smiled. “Except you’ll need to find someone else to talk to about sex now. I might be weird enough to set my best friend up with my dad but even I have my limits. Also, I’m not going to call you mom.”
You laughed and Joel draped an arm around Sarah’s shoulders, kissing the top of her head.
“Shouldn’t be so sneaky, baby girl,” he said, but he was smiling.
“Well you never listen any other way,” she said. “Now I’m still cold and there’s hot cocoa and snacks waiting inside…”
“Oh!” You said. “I forgot, I have something in the car…”
You ran back inside and grabbed your keys and pulled some covered dishes out of the back seat. Sarah frowned, her arms still around her waist.
“It might be dumb, but…” You held up the containers. “I made a bunch of gingerbread and frosting and got candy and stuff…”
“You brought stuff to make gingerbread houses?” Sarah practically squealed. “Knew you’d make a great Miller!”
You laughed and Joel took the dishes from you as the three of you turned to head back inside. You stopped for a second and looked up at the house, the whole thing trimmed in colorful lights, a family of light up reindeer in the front yard. You smiled at it, looking like the home you always wished you had as a girl.
“You really made something amazing here, Joel,” you said.
“Did my best,” he shrugged. “But now that you and Sarah are here? It’s perfect.”
You smiled at him and your best friend before going inside to hang your stocking up next to theirs where it belonged.
A/N: AHHHHHH Sarah finally knows and YES, for those playing along at home, it was indeed a set up from the start. She's sneaky, that one!
Also, in case you're wondering, the ornament Joel gets Beautiful for the two of them? A variation on something like this. Isn't it the fucking cutest thing???
I hope you've loved this fic because I've loved writing it. Just one chapter left to put a bow on everything! Thank you so much for reading and for being here. Love you!!
a follow-up to this request from the lovely @cool-iguana
read part one and part two
summary: domestic bliss doesn't last long with a man who doesn't know how to regulate his emotions at the idea of losing someone he loves
pairing: no-outbreak!au, chef!joel x f!reader
content/warnings: lots of angst, swearing
a/n: omg as a brit writing stories set in the US i always forget how far states are from each other.... wym you can't just hop on the train from houston to new york?
In theory, you'd always wanted to be a morning person.
You envied the ease of Joel's body slipping out from the sheets each morning, never fighting with his eyelids for just five more minutes of rest.
The break of dawn was probably your favourite time of the day; you just preferred to soak it all in warm and semi-lucid from Joel's bed. The ambience of car engines on the street below slowly waking up mixed with Joel's coffee pot singing on the stove felt like a hymn sung only for you. You'd shut your eyes - only momentarily, before hearing the door creak open and the large white mug you'd claimed as your own being set down beside you on the nightstand.
Strategically, it was lucky that Joel always had to get to the restaurant hours before you. But each morning you wished you could pull him back under the duvet and sink yourself into his chest until it was impossible to decipher where you ended and he began.
Showering after spending a night with Joel felt like sacrilege. If it wasn't for the sweat and other fluids clinging to your skin, you would wear the remnants of his touch and scent on your body like an expensive French perfume.
The restaurant was always hectic, but now nearing the festive season everything seemed to intensify rapidly. However, screwing the boss did have its perks; you'd managed to sneak a couple of days off last week to visit a friend from culinary school in New York.
While you were there, she'd taken you to one of her favourite spots in the city, introducing you to the head chef who was a friend of hers. He'd asked about your current role and you told him everything about working for the Joel Miller - strategically omitting the parts where he has you pinned against the stove after hours.
You'd thought nothing of it after that, knowing it would mostly be inconvenient to hire someone halfway across the country when culinary grads were lurking on every corner in the city. You didn't want to leave Joel, either. You didn't plan on staying at his restaurant for the rest of your life - even he didn't, but things were good. You felt secure for the first time in your life.
Finally arriving at the restaurant, you sang a chirpy "Mooorning!" into the kitchen before dumping your things into your locker. As you tied your apron around your figure, Joel emerged from the office, eyes dark and trained on the floor.
"Good morning, chef." You cooed in a low tone, letting your voice rasp every so slightly.
He kept his eyes on the ground, grunting something inaudible vaguely in your direction before stalking into the kitchen.
Weird.
Whenever you and Joel got a moment alone he would always take advantage of your solitude, even if only for a couple of seconds. He'd seemed fine at the house this morning, you'd heard him singing along to The Supremes while making breakfast. Maybe the wrong amount of stock had been delivered; the tiniest of setbacks were often enough to dictate his mood for the entire day.
You pushed the encounter to the back of your mind, redirecting your attention to your prep for the day.
"Has anyone seen my boning knife?" You shouted over your shoulder after all but turning your station inside out.
Before you could turn your head, a heavy hand slammed the knife in front of you.
"Was on the floor when I got here this mornin'. Watch your shit and clean your station." Joel growled, loud enough for the rest of the kitchen to hear.
"Yes, chef." You bowed your head, cheeks turning pink with embarrassment.
You were more than familiar with his sharp tongue and short temper, but there was something about the way he spat his words at you that sent an unease through your body. He'd made you feel small. Why couldn't he have left the knife on your station for you when he found it? It seemed like such a petty thing for him to do.
Not wanting to let his mood rub off on you, you brushed it off and carried on with your tasks before service started.
The morning rushed past in a haze, and soon enough orders were coming through. Joel had remained eerily quiet for the majority of the morning, you almost wished he would shout at you to simply acknowledge your presence.
He hadn't found a single excuse to touch you, an act of affection he often employed while he made his rounds through the stations. You felt like you were a child being given the silent treatment by your mother, all of a sudden you were six again, tugging at the hem of her dress begging for her to look at you.
You were in the midst of prepping a monkfish and kohlrabi main with cauliflower and dates, almost ready for it to go to the pass, when you felt his presence behind you.
"Sauce ain't reduced enough."
"With respect, chef, it has two more minutes on heat."
He left before returning with a spoon, dipping it into your saucepan of monkfish stock.
"Needs lime."
"I'm going to add lime before it goes on the pass. As I said, it's not finished yet."
"Fuckin' useless." He muttered quietly under his breath, but you caught it.
"What the fuck did you just say to me?"
"I said you're fuckin' useless. Slow, no attention to detail, don't know why you're still in my kitchen."
Your heart sank deep into the pit of your stomach, sweat coating your palms. All eyes were on you both, and the sizzle of your burning sauce on the stove was the least of your worries.
"How dare you speak to me like that?" You fought for your voice to not waiver.
Was this part of your act? Had he taken the game you both played too far? There was no softness in his eyes, no remorse or realisation that his words had stung you.
Before he could dismiss you from the kitchen, you untied your apron and threw it to the ground, letting your hard work char and spit on the stove.
You didn't say a word as you snatched your things, bustling through the back door without another glance.
"Where the fuck d'you think you're going? You don't get to walk out of here mid-service just because y'needed more damn lime." Joel called from behind you.
"This isn't about the fucking lime, Joel. How could you speak to me like that? I thought, I thought-"
"You need to get some thicker skin. They ain't gonna coddle you like I do in New York."
The words must've slipped out of his mouth judging by the way his eyes widened at the mention of New York.
"What are you talking about?"
"They called me this mornin' - for a reference. Told me how impressed they were meetin' you."
You wanted to reach out and touch him, to console him and tell him how this was all just a horrible misunderstanding. Then his words replayed in your head. Every time you looked into his big, angry eyes all you could hear was useless, fuckin' useless.
"Grow up, Joel. Maybe if you'd have talked to me about it like a fucking adult I could've told you it wasn't like that."
"Oh yeah, what was it like? You plan on fuckin' your way to the top there too, or that just with me?"
He was being unjustly cruel and he knew it. This wasn't a power play for you, and he knew that. Although you'd never said it, you loved him, and you were almost certain that he loved you too.
But this was too much - he had pushed you too far this time. There was no coming back from this.
Summary: You and Bradley hadn’t ended on bad terms; really, you stopped before the two of you could even truly begin. Still, in the last seven months, you had never completely left his mind. So when you suddenly appeared in front of him at the bar, asking for a favor and pulling him into a kiss, he thought maybe it was the perfect opportunity to see if this time, things could be different. But what neither of you realized was that there’s more going on than just rekindling a lost romance, and it might not be as easy as simply just wanting it.
Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n)
Warnings: second chance romance, language, allusions of smut and potential full smut, stalking, unhealthy obsessions, delusions of feelings, unwanted attention.
Part Two Word Count: 2.3K
Part One
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You were still in the same little rented house that you had been in when you were dating. As Bradley pulled into the driveway behind your car, he couldn’t help but notice just how dark the street was, the lone light post flickering. When he saw you waiting for him on the porch steps, having arrived a minute or two before him, he jumped out of the Bronco and closed the distance with a jog.
“Hey there, Aviator,” you teased, taking his hand as he helped you stand. He grinned back, glad to see that the drive here hadn’t seemed to change your mind about this - about him, and the pull you still seemed to feel toward the other.
He followed you inside, locking the door behind him. He glanced around the living room, taking note of the books that were scattered across empty surfaces, half burnt candles in random places, and an empty coffee cup on the stand beside the couch without a coaster underneath it. Not much had changed since the last time he had been in here. It was all still very you, and for some reason, that settled some of his nerves.
“Do you…want to stay for a little while?” you asked. You were standing in front of him, reaching for that hair tie on your wrist to snap. He never wanted you to be nervous - not because of him. He took a step closer and lifted your head to look at him. Your skin was soft against his fingertips as he let his thumb ghost over the dimple in your chin. He just looked at you for a moment, taking in all the features he had missed. He cleared his throat and let his hand drop back to his side when he realized how long had passed.
“I’d like that. If you want me to, that is.”
A grin took over your face and you nodded, saying that you wanted him to stick around. You turned to move deeper into the house, calling over your shoulder and asking if he wanted a drink. He took a seat on the couch when you walked into the kitchen. It wasn’t long before you joined him, handing him a bottle with your preferred label on it as you settled in beside him. You kept a distance between your bodies, and you were both silent as you sipped your beers. But you felt too far away, so after brief contemplation, Bradley scooted closer. When you returned the gesture and he could feel the heat from your body, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and brought you flush against his side. You brought your bottle back up to your lips, but he could see the smile that was threatening to take over your face. He was sure it matched his.
It was quiet for a few minutes as you sat together, simply existing with one another. You finally raised your head in his direction, only to see he was already looking at you.
“Hi,” you whispered.
“Hi.”
You stared, once again not saying anything. A long moment passed before you let out a shaky breath and grabbed his drink out of his hand. He raised an eyebrow as you leaned forward and set both bottles down on the coffee table. When you turned back to look at him, your eyes were darker and your breathing was heavier.
“Bug,” he reached for you, “come here.”
He barely got the words out before you were climbing into his lap and pressing your lips to his.
Bradley groaned against your mouth. He ran his tongue against the seam of your lips and you opened for him with no hesitation, letting him deepen the exchange. One hand settled on your waist while the other found its way to the back of your neck, holding you to him. He could taste the beer you had been drinking together and something that was just so uniquely you. He chased after it, wanting more after going without for so long.
“Missed you,” you murmured once breathing became an issue and you pulled back just slightly. Your hands found a home playing with his hair and both of his fell to your hips, rubbing up and down the expanse of your side.
“I missed you too. I thought about you a lot,” he revealed. You pressed another quick kiss to his lips at the words, and he knew he wasn’t the only one.
“I never said thank you,” you said quietly. Bradley’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, prompting you to elaborate. “For tonight. It wasn’t really fair of me, but once I saw you I just…took the opportunity.”
It brought everything that had happened back to the forefront of his mind, having been lost in the fog of having you in his arms again. He thought of the unsteadying way the other man had been looking at you, and how panicked you had looked in return. Even after Bradley proclaimed himself as your boyfriend, he had barely flinched.
“Are you ready to talk about it?” he asked slowly.
You sighed like you knew it had been coming. Your head fell forward to rest against his and he rubbed circles into your skin through your clothes, waiting you out. After a moment, you straightened back up in his lap. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything,” he answered immediately. “But you can start with telling me more about him.”
He couldn’t bring himself to say the other man’s name, but it wasn’t like it was necessary; you both knew who he meant.
“He started about four months ago. I was responsible for some of his training so we spent a lot of time together in the beginning. He asked me out his..second week, I think? I said no. I really thought at first that he just couldn’t take a hint.”
“But?” he prompted, sensing more. You groaned and closed your eyes. You took a deep breath before you opened them again and continued.
“He wouldn’t stop asking. He memorized my coffee order and would leave me lunch on my desk. And then shit like tonight where he somehow overhears a conversation of where I’ll be and just shows up and wants to buy me a drink. He thinks they’re sweet gestures but it’s just creepy.”
Bradleys mind whirled with the new information. Concern was flashing like red lights in his head.
“That’s…not okay.”
“I know,” you groaned, “But I mean…I don’t know.”
“Has he ever put his hands on you?” he asked. Part of him was scared at what your response would be, but you just shrugged your shoulders and fiddled with one of the buttons on his shirt.
“Nothing like whatever your mind is probably conjuring up. A hand on my arm when he pops up beside me. Stands a little too close in the elevator. Tries to grab my hand when we’re walking in the same direction. Nothing that I haven’t dealt with before from men who lack personal space.”
Bradley’s eyes narrowed considerably, not liking that last comment, but he knew that wasn’t here nor there. He blew a harsh breath out and pulled you a little closer.
“Have you told anyone? Reported him at work or something?”
“Yes. He got a verbal warning. He chilled for about two weeks.”
There’s obvious bitterness in your tone. He remembered how excited you had been when you landed this job at the start of your relationship. Clearly in the time you had been apart, something had changed.
“I’ve been applying for new jobs,” you continued before he could ask. Bradley felt a smidge of relief at your words. “I kind of hate it there. Not even just because of Paul. It’s…not what I thought it would be, you know? They seemed so great at the beginning. But I work so much and get no recognition and I see everyday how they really don’t give a shit about anyone. So I’ve been looking.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, and truly meant it. “I know how excited you were about that place.”
You gave him a half hearted smile and shrug in response.
Paul’s short and scrawny frame popped in his mind. He was maybe harmless physically in comparison to Bradley himself, sure, and he wasn’t all that bigger than you, either. However, It was the look he had in his eye that made him think that he shouldn’t be underestimated or disregarded.
He considered his next words carefully before speaking them.
“I want you to be happy,” he said, his voice gentle and sincere as he lifted a hand and pushed some of your hair out of your face. “But I need you to be safe, too.”
“I am,” you told him, running the pads of your fingers down the side of his face. Your smile was soft and so, so beautiful. “I promise.”
But Bradley had noticed how one of your windows was slightly cracked to allow the breeze to come through, and the lack of an alarm system that you swore you would get one day. He remembered how the window in your bathroom never quite locked right and the lack of lights out on the street. Still, though, there was little more he could do right now than take you at your word and trust you, and try to convince himself that his mind was conjuring up worst case scenarios because of how much you meant to him; how much you had always meant to him. He didn’t want to risk the opportunity of getting you back by being overbearing. So instead of voicing more of his concerns, he simply kissed your forehead and said a quiet “okay.”
You slid off his lap and settled into his side again. You sat on the couch together for a long time, falling easily into conversation just as you had earlier; talking to you had always been so effortless.
When Bradley got up to set the bowl of chips you had poured earlier back on the counter in the kitchen, he caught sight of the time on the microwave. He was surprised at how late it was. You had gotten back to your house around nine, and it was after midnight now.
He braced himself against the counter and squeezed his eyes shut as he was hit with a feeling of sadness and anxiety at the thought of leaving. Despite all the talking you had done tonight, and the undeniable feelings you still had for each other, you hadn’t gotten around to what this night meant for the two of you moving forward, if anything at all. And god, he hoped there was something. With a deep breath, he pushed himself off the counter and made his way back into the living room. You looked up from the thread you were picking at on the blanket you had drug across the two of you about an hour ago and gave him a smile.
“It’s getting late,” he said softly, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
“Oh.” You glanced at your watch, eyebrows knitted together before you looked back at him. “I guess it is.”
“I should probably get going.”
He watched as your smile fell slightly, but you were quick to try and hide it. You threw the blanket off of you and walked with him to the entryway. You were silent as he slipped his shoes on. He paused before he opened the door, meeting your eyes. They said so much without you having to say anything at all. Feeling some of the anxiety slide off of him, he held open his arms. Your face was pressed into his chest barely two seconds later, holding onto him tightly.
“I’m so glad I saw you tonight,” he said into your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
“Me too.”
Bradley held you for a long moment, and when he detached himself, it was with a sigh. His thumb brushed your cheek when he cupped your face in his hands. “I don’t want it to just be tonight, Bug.”
Your eyes sparkled and instead of answering right away, you raised on your toes to kiss him. It was gentle, and you didn’t linger long enough for it to deepen, but his lips still tingled when you slowly fell back to your feet.
“Me either, Bradley. How about tomorrow?”
You bit your lip, but you couldn’t hide your smile even if you tried, and now Bradley didn’t want to leave for so many other reasons, including biting that lip himself.
“Tomorrow,” he agreed instead. He brought you in for one more quick kiss, and when he pulled away, he breathed out a laugh, in a bit of disbelief at how his Friday night had turned out.
“Lock the door behind me, okay? And close your living room window before you go to bed?”
“I will,” you promised, and you were still smiling at him as he stepped onto the porch. You leant against the doorway as you held the front door open. “Text me when you get home, maybe?”
“I will,” he echoed. He pointed briefly to the door, and you laughed softly, stepping back into the house.
“Goodnight, Bradley.”
“Night, Bug.”
He waited until he heard the lock click into place before making his way to the Bronco. And when he turned the engine on, he caught sight of you closing and locking the window in the living room and pulling the curtains shut. He gave the street a once over but didn’t see anything out of place. So with another laugh and a shake of his head, he backed out of the driveway and made his way back to his own apartment.
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Part Three :: Series Masterlist :: Main Masterlist
Notes: Thank you so much for the feedback on part one! I hope you enjoyed this one just as much. Likes/comments/reblogs are the best encouragement. I did some reconstruction of the masterlist, so hopefully that solves the issue of people not being tagged🖤
This story was meant to live in the abyss of lost stories that is my Google Docs. It only exists because Mak and Em never let me forget it. Thank you both so much. And thanks to Mak for the AMAZING banner!
Tag List (please let me know if you'd like to be removed or added!): @roosterforme - @mak-32 - @wildxwidow - @gretagerwigsmuse - @bradshawburner - @lilyevanswhore - @too-fangirl-to-fuction - @fav-fanficssss - @iamaslytherin0 - @benhardysdrumstick - @notroosterbradshaw - @1234-angelika - @sunflowersteves - @teacupsandtopgun - @sometimesanalice - @littlezee80 - @je-suis-prest-rachel - @khaylin27 - @infamous-reindeer - @hotch-meeeeeuppppp - @sarahjoestewy-blog - @yanna-banana - @inthestars-underthesun - @avengersfan25 - @wkndwlff - @lt-spork - @indynerdgirl - @mssleepy876b - @kassieesworld - @mizzzpink @a-serene-place-to-be - @memoriesat30
Summary: There is something going on with Jake’s favorite mechanic. And he continues to pry.
Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin/F!Reader
Word Count: 9.7k
A/N: Thank you for all the love on the first chapter, I truly wasn’t expecting it. I apologize for the wait, but hopefully the length will make up for it!
Warnings: Naval inaccuracies, themes of stalking, cursing, mentions of terminal and life-threatening illnesses, and combative fluff :)
The ceremony was wonderful if not a little long winded but you hardly cared as you stood with the rest of the crowd to cheer as Captain Mitchell and Admiral Simpson presented the Daggers, officially a squadron of Lieutenant Commanders. You caught Rooster’s eye, having watched Captain Mitchell pin the leaves to his uniform, and saw that he still had tears lining his lower lashes. You winked at him, earning a small smile and a bit of pink in his cheeks. You were so proud.
“I’m so happy for him!” Came a warbled voice and you held the phone in your hand a little higher. This wasn’t exactly how you thought you’d meet Jake’s family (not that you had ever given it much thought, really) but when he’d explained that his family couldn’t make it out to the ceremony for one reason or another, you had volunteered to make sure their FaceTime was at the right angle so they could see everything. There were four of them all crammed together—his mother, Sandra, and three sisters, Mia, Kelly, and Alex—staring at what you assumed was an iPad with how Sandra was holding it; blonde heads swiveling together to track Jake’s movements on the stage had been quite the spectacle but when you had glanced up to see Jake looking at you with the biggest, brightest smile you had ever seen it had nearly made you drop the phone.
Summary: There is something going on with Jake’s favorite mechanic.
Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin/F!Reader
Word Count: 6.7k
A/N: Tentatively dipping into the TGM fandom after months of lurking. I do subscribe to the belief that Jake likes women who are a bit mean to him, so I hope you enjoy that dynamic, too! I’m sure there will be general Naval inaccuracies but I tried. I grew up on Air Force bases so if I use an incorrect term, I apologize! Please let me know what you think!
Trigger Warnings: This series will touch on themes of stalking, domestic violence, and attempted murder (not committed by Jake). Please do not read if this will upset you. You are responsible for the content you consume.
It started slow.
For as long as Jake had known you, which was just over a year give or take, you had never been a jumpy person but everything now seemed to have your eyes darting from one corner of the hangar to the other, from one table at the Hard Deck to the next, as if you were waiting for something or someone to appear and do something.
But what was it?
Some Ensign fresh off the boat dropped a tray of beers and nearly had you leaping from your seat beside the pool tables before you settled again, an unsteady and unconvincing smile on your face when Jake turned to you. Your smile twitched, as did your grasp on the drink (which you swore was actually called Bee’s Knees) in your hand.
Summary: Bradley takes you out, and it's clear he remembers all the details you told him. He even treats you to a trip to the batting cages, and at the end of the night, he's more than happy to give you a little tour of the Bronco.
Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing and smut (18+)
Length: 4700 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader
Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun!
You locked yourself away in your bedroom as soon as Molly arrived and reread the text Bradley had sent earlier this morning. You had picked out a cute sundress to wear tonight, but now you were scrambling to change up your outfit.
Bradley Bradshaw: I wanted to surprise you tonight, Kitten, but I need to make sure you wear appropriate attire. I want to take you to the batting cages after dinner. You mind wearing sneakers?
You didn't mind doing anything he wanted.
Quickly you perused all of the jeans you had lined up on your bed. You chose the pair that had a few casual rips and made your butt look good. You paired them with a flattering black top and some casual slip on sneakers. And then you focused on getting your hair and makeup in order.
While you were a little hesitant for Everett to know you were going out with his coach tonight, you didn't see any way to hide it. He was making a pillow and blanket fort with your sister in the living room at the moment, and you figured Bradley would want to see him when he came to pick you up.
As you were swiping another layer of mascara on your lashes and double checking yourself in the mirror, you heard Molly yell, "He's here!"
Your heart was absolutely racing as you capped your makeup and ran down the stairs just as you saw Bradley approaching your porch through the front window.
"Coach is here!" Everett called as you opened the door for him. Bradley was holding a bouquet of flowers in each hand, and he looked impossibly handsome.
"Hi," he greeted all three of you, since Molly and Ev were now crowding around the door as well.
"Hi, Coach. Come on in," you told him, nudging your sister out of the way with your leg.
"I got one of these for you," he said, handing you some flowers. "And one for you," he told Molly, handing her the other bouquet with a smile. "Thanks for making tonight happen."
You would have been a little concerned about the way Molly was looking up at him if she was any other woman except for your sister.
"And this is for you," Bradley told Everett, extracting a baseball card from his back pocket.
Everett's eyes went wide. "A baseball card? It's a Phillies player!"
"Yeah," Bradley replied with a laugh. "Do you collect them?"
"No," Everett whispered, gently turning the card over in his hands. You were ready to cancel dinner and the batting cages and take this man right up to your bedroom. The way he treated your son was perhaps the sexiest thing about him.
"Well, I do. That's one of mine, but you can have it," Bradley told him. "If you want to collect them, too, I'll get you a binder to keep them in."
Now both Molly and Everett were looking at Bradley like they never wanted him to leave their presence.
"You ready to go?" he asked you softly, and you realized you were quite mesmerized by him too.
"I'll take care of these for you," Molly said, gently pulling the flowers out of your hand. "Go have fun."
"Oh, Molly," Bradley added with a grin. "Bob says hi."
You turned and looked at your sister, and she was biting her lip and trying not to smile. That was interesting.
When Bradley held out his hand, you laced your fingers with his, and both of you waved goodbye to Everett.
Bradley opened the passenger door and helped you climb into the Bronco, but before he closed it, you gave him a quick kiss. "Thanks for the flowers. And Molly's flowers. And Everett's baseball card. You're really fucking sweet."
Bradley laughed and kissed you a little harder. "We're just getting started, Kitten."
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The flowers and baseball card seemed to have the unexpected but also desirable effect of your hands constantly on Bradley.
You held his hand as he drove to the beach and found a parking space. You linked your fingers with his while he led you along the boardwalk to get burgers. And you wrapped your arms around his waist while you waited in line.
"Okay, Kitten. I know it looks like I put in very little effort here, but you told me you like cheap burgers."
You looked up at him, your chin grazing his chest while you laughed. "My favorite."
"These ones are good," he promised you, guiding you up to the window when it was time to order. You turned around in Bradley's arms, and now it was his turn to get his hands on you. He listened to you rattle off your burger order as he stood behind you and let his hands settle on your waist.
"Make it two," Bradley told the guy who was working once you were done ordering. "And you're holding something special back there for me as well."
You turned and looked up at Bradley over your shoulder, but he just shrugged and gave you his most innocent face.
"What?" he asked, trying not to laugh.
"You're going to go out of your way to make tonight perfect, aren't you?"
"Of course, Kitten."
He watched your brow crease. "Huh. I never went out anywhere with Frank. Same goes for Danny. Unless you count dinner at Red Lobster after our quickie courthouse wedding."
That was the second time you had mentioned how badly your douchebag ex husband and coworker fling had treated you. Bradley desperately wanted more information, but a bag of burgers and a bottle of chilled champagne were being handed to him through the window.
"Veuve Clicquot? That's like a hundred dollars a bottle!" you said when the champagne caught your eye.
"Oh, that's how you pronounce it? I just asked the woman at the store what to get for someone I was trying to impress."
You looked giddy as he handed it to you. "Well you can go back and tell her that you did a great job with that."
Bradley led you back to the Bronco where he pulled out the heavy blanket he had stashed on the backseat. "Feel like watching the sunset on the beach?"
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You and Bradley ate your burgers side by side on the blanket, facing the setting sun and the Pacific Ocean with paper cups of champagne.
"Your job sounds a lot more exciting than mine," you commented after he told you about the six months he spent on an aircraft carrier last year.
"Kitten. Six months in the middle of the ocean with nobody to hang out with except Bob. Are you insane?"
You laughed and turned to look at him after you finished your food. "Are you insane? Bob is a literal angel! He's the sweetest man!"
"Hey, now. Did Bob ever buy you a three dollar burger? I don't think so."
You laughed harder as he leaned a little closer and kissed your cheek. "No, he never did that." Then your eyes went wide. "Why did you tell my sister that Bob said hi?"
Bradley shrugged. "They were pretty chatty after practice on Monday. Bob usually flirts by talking about income taxes or recipes he tried out. But Molly was laughing. Quite a bit. You have to bring her to another practice and see it for yourself."
You squeaked. "Molly thinks he's hot."
You watched Bradley grin and rub his hand over his mustache.
"And I still think he's so sweet," you added. "And so do all the other tee ball moms. You should hear what they say about the two of you."
"What do they say?" he asked, sounding slightly concerned.
You snorted and shook your head. "That your arms are the size of fire hydrants. That you and Bob could take turns bench pressing them. That they would love a tour of your Bronco. I thought that one sounded like an innuendo, but I'm not exactly sure."
He smirked at you. "I'm only giving a tour of my Bronco to you."
"So... it is an innuendo then," you said, teasing him as he topped off your cup of champagne.
"Don't take this the wrong way, Kitten, but is there a reason why you decided to get involved with that shitty guy from work?"
You glanced down at the blanket and scrunched up your nose. Frank had been an easy, convenient option, or at least that's what you had told yourself. When you looked up at Bradley, you took a deep breath and said, "I didn't think I could do better."
Bradley almost dropped the bottle of champagne, barely catching it before it hit the blanket.
"Are you fucking joking?"
"No," you said quietly.
"Jesus, Kitten. You could do way better than me, and I'd like to think I'm an upgrade from Frank who doesn't know how to take no for an answer."
You turned to look at the sun as it started to dip below the horizon, illuminating everything in orange. But your eyes were drawn back to Bradley and his beautiful face.
"See, Coach, the thing is... Frank was already an upgrade over Danny. We only got married, because I was pregnant. We weren't really even together."
"Kitten," he whispered, hooking his fingers underneath your chin and running his thumb along your lips.
"It's really all okay, because I got Everett out of the deal." The last thing you wanted was for Bradley to feel bad for you. Your life turned out better than you ever thought it would when you were still married.
"Your son thinks you're cool," he said with a smile, and you smiled back. "I grew up without a dad, too. It scares me a bit how much I can relate to Everett."
You leaned into his palm where it was cupping your cheek. "What happened to your dad?"
"He died when I was four. And my mom died when I was nineteen."
You felt your face crumble as you scrambled across the blanket to reach for him.
"It's okay, Kitten," he said with a soft chuckle as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "It was a long time ago."
"That just makes me want to hug you more," you told him, your words muffled against his neck. The deep laughter that rumbled in his chest made you push him back until he was laying on the blanket with you on top of him, your cheek resting on his chest.
Bradley tucked one arm behind his head and kissed your hair while he kept his other arm around your back. The two of you ended up watching the sun disappear from view and the sky start to turn purple with you draped across him, not saying a word until the first few stars were twinkling.
"You ready to visit one of my favorite places with me?" Bradley asked softly when you tipped your chin up to look at him.
----------------------------
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" you asked, biting your lip as he parked at the batting cages. "I'm not even sure I know how to hold a bat correctly."
"I thought you were a pro now, Kitten. Watched all those YouTube videos."
You shot him a playfully scathing look as you unbuckled your seatbelt.
"But don't worry," he added, leaning across the seat to kiss you. "I'm gonna be a lot more hands on."
You pressed your lips together and nodded, and Bradley was excited for this.
It was dark out now, but the bright stadium lights allowed this place to stay open late. There were some teenagers and another couple here as well, and Bradley led you inside to pay.
The air conditioner was blasting, and Bradley immediately opened his arms for you to snuggle against him. "Hi, one cage for an hour, please," he said, handing over his credit card. You were snuggling against him, but your lips also found their way to his neck as he quickly signed his credit card receipt. Bradley grunted your name as you kissed him, contemplating just taking you back to the car.
"Show me how to play baseball," you whispered. "I want to be a power hitter, too."
Bradley laughed and took you by the hand. "You gonna behave?"
You just shrugged as he led you to the helmets and helped you select one in your size. He grabbed one as well, along with two bats, and headed to the assigned cage with you, popping the gate open and then closing it behind you both. The sounds of other people hitting balls and laughing filled the air.
"Keep your helmet on the whole time, okay?" He wiggled it onto your head and then gave you a kiss. "Want me to go first? Show you where to stand?"
"Yes, Coach Bradley," you said with a smirk. He wanted to wipe that smirk off your face with his lips.
Instead he hummed as he positioned you in the corner of the chainlink cage and put his own helmet on. He turned the pitching machine on and set it to the highest speed.
"See that light?" he asked, pointing down to the far end where the machine stood. "When I press the button to signal that I am ready for some pitches, it will change from red to green before each ball gets launched."
"Okay," you nodded, letting him know you understood.
"I have it set on fast, but I come here a lot. We can slow it down when it's your turn." Bradley pressed the button one more time and watched the light change to green as he got into his batting stance. He took a dozen pitches, hitting all of them hard up into the mesh or down along the ground.
Maybe Bob was right; maybe he should join the officers rec league. He'd probably be better than everyone else, but maybe he could pitch instead of playing shortstop. He thought Everett might like to come watch him play. You and he could sit in the bleachers and cheer for him, and then Bradley could take Everett to pick out some baseball cards at the flea market in Coronado.
"I know it sounds cliche, but keep your eye on the ball," he told you, hitting a few more pitches. "That's more important when you're hitting against a real pitcher than a machine, from a safety standpoint. But it's still important."
"You're all about safety, huh? I think it's part of the reason you make such a good tee ball coach."
He turned and glanced at you. He hadn't really considered that he might be doing a good job at coaching the team; he usually deferred to Bob most of the time. But he was enjoying more aspects of coaching than he thought he would be.
When he was done with his second round of pitches, he paused the machine and picked up the smaller bat. "Super into safety, Kitten. You have any idea how upset I'd be if you got hurt because of something I could have prevented?"
You took the bat from him and said, "Tell me."
"Devastated," he whispered, hooking one finger through your belt loop and pulling you toward him while he backed away. "Ready to give this a try?"
He turned you so you were in position with him standing behind you. "Plant your back foot over this way," he said, gently pushing your right foot back with his. "And then bend your knees a little more. Perfect."
"How do I hold the bat?" you asked over your shoulder.
Bradley wrapped his arms around you, and helped you place your hands where they needed to go. His front was pressed against your back, and he could feel the friction of his jeans rubbing against yours.
"Like this," he rasped. You had goosebumps on your arms, even though it was still warm outside, and you were leaning back against him a bit.
When you were in position, he let his hands trail the length of your arms and down your sides until they settled on your hips. He'd been dying to be able to touch you freely like this for weeks, and now you were egging him on.
"Like this?" you asked, your voice practically a moan as you pressed your ass back against him.
"Just like that," he agreed, letting his fingers slide up inside your shirt, making you giggle as he caressed your skin. "You ready for me to turn it on?" He squeezed you with both hands before letting go.
"I thought it was turned on," you mumbled before turning your face toward him and saying, "Yes, coach."
Bradley laughed as he selected the slowest pitch speed. "Watch for the green light, Kitten."
You swung too late at the first pitch, missing it completely. Same for the second and third pitches as well.
"You're swinging a little late, but you look good. Really good," he promised, staring at your ass as you swung a little earlier this time. You almost had the timing down, but you were just not quite there yet. "I'm pausing it for a minute." Bradley watched you bend to pick up one of the balls and he groaned. "Fuck."
"What?" you asked innocently.
"You know what, Kitten. You love teasing me," he said, taking the ball out of your hand and tossing it toward the mesh fencing. He was a little hard now; something about the combination of your body and watching you try to hit a ball was really doing it for him.
"Get me back into position?" you asked, and Bradley had his hands all over you again. When you wiggled slowly against him, he groaned before releasing you.
"Focus. Let's try this again. Remember to swing earlier," he said, adjusting himself as the machine sent a pitch your way.
You missed the first pitch and groaned. You missed the second one, still swinging a little late.
"Come on, show me where Everett gets his skills from," Bradley told you. "You can do it, Kitten."
Then you nailed the third pitch, sending the ball up into the netting. "Oh my god, did you see that?" you screeched.
"Sure did! But pay attention, you've got more pitches coming."
You hit the next few in a row as well, and then Bradley turned off the machine and caught you just as you jumped into his arms.
You dropped the bat to the ground and kissed him. "I'm a power hitter," you whispered against his lips with a smile. Bradley pulled off your helmet and let that fall to the ground too. He held your lips to his with a firm hand at the back of your neck.
He was certain you could tell he was a little hard, the way you were moving against him. "You proud of yourself?" he asked.
That simple question could have so many meanings, but the way you gasped, "Yes," had him slipping his fingers underneath your shirt again.
He kneaded your skin softly while you kissed him, and he finally managed to say, "Let's get out of here, Kitten."
------------------------
The short ride back to your house was quiet, the air in the Bronco thick with anticipation. Bradley must know you couldn't invite him inside tonight. Even if you could sneak him in and back out again, you weren't going to do it when Molly was there.
When Bradley pulled into your driveway and cut the engine you had your seatbelts off immediately. "Come here, Kitten," he whispered, easing his seat back and rubbing his thigh. He groaned as you crawled across the seat toward him and kept his hands planted at his sides until you were straddling his right thigh.
"This is technically our third date, right?" you asked, licking your lips.
"That's right," he confirmed.
"Makes this okay, then," you whispered. You were wet; you could tell your underwear was soaked from the anticipation of the ride home. But it felt so good pressing yourself against him, like you were quenching a need you didn't even know you had before tonight.
"Hi, Coach," you said softly, scooting up along his thigh with a soft gasp as your hands came to rest on his shoulders.
Bradley's hands found your hips in the darkness, and then his lips and mustache were on your neck. "Hi, Kitten." He bit you softly, and your head tipped back slowly, your body arching against his.
You could feel yourself slowly grinding against his leg, and then you stopped yourself, embarrassed. You were like a cat in heat, humping his thigh.
Digging your fingers into his soft hair, you pulled his head back so you could get your lips on his. "Don't stop, baby," he commanded, hands on your hips guiding your core slowly along his thigh. "Feel good?" his breaths were a little shorter, and his voice was deeper now. The interior of the Bronco was so quiet, every single tiny noise either of you made felt impossibly amplified.
"Feels so good," you whined softly, right next to his ear, and he jerked his leg up against you, making you cry out his name.
"That's right, Kitten. I'll take care of you," he promised. "Give you what you need."
You nodded vigorously, lips parted before you mashed your mouth to his, letting him invade you with his tongue and taste your teeth. He swallowed all of your moans as he pushed his hands higher up your shirt until he was pulling it off. You were moving against him slowly, his huge palms warm on your back as the cool air hit your skin.
Bradley leaned back against the seat and smiled at you. "Been dying to see everything since you sent me those dirty photos while you were at work."
His fingers found their way between the fabric of your plain black bra and your skin, and you could hear yourself begging him to unhook it.
When you felt the fabric slide away from your breasts, only to be replaced by his rough thumbs, you became one hundred percent certain that he was going to make you orgasm with your jeans still on.
"So pretty," he whispered, toying gently with your breasts while you moved your hips along his thigh, your movements becoming a little more erratic.
"Bradley," you gasped, a little nervous about what was going to happen. "Is this okay?" Your voice was quavering.
"I love it," he promised before his lips wrapped around your tight nipple, and you were practically seeing stars. Your underwear was slick and soaking wet as your clit was met with the perfect amount of pressure.
Bradley sucked harder on your right nipple, palming your left breast a little roughly. "Oh, god," you gasped. He was amazing. He was doing everything you needed him to with almost no prompting.
"Fucking gorgeous," he murmured, brushing your wet, hard nipple with his lips and mustache. Now you were bucking against him as he devoured you, all needy lips and gentle teeth. Bradley held your chest to his lips, both hands on your back as your legs started to shake.
"Oh!" you cried out into the darkness. "Bradley!"
"Cum, baby." He was swirling his tongue against you as you stuttered and clenched deliciously around nothing, soaking your panties even more.
You rode out your orgasm until your hips were barely rocking against him. Bradley was rock hard inside his jeans, pressing against your right leg, and when you reached for his zipper, he eased you back along the seat with his knee pressing firmly against your core.
Once you had eased his zipper down, you reached inside to stroke him through his underwear. He hissed for you when you squeezed him gently. He was huge. He was going to make you feel so good all over again.
Your phone alarm started to screech inside your purse, and Bradley whacked his head on the passenger door while you scrambled beneath him.
"I'm so sorry," you said breathlessly, reaching to try to silence your phone, but it took you a few seconds to find it. "Sorry."
Bradley just grunted and kissed your cheek. "Is that your cue to end our third date?" he asked through clenched teeth.
"I'm sorry," you said again.
He was still holding himself above you, and you assumed he was still hard when you started to reach for him. But he eased himself away from you, and you wanted to scream out that it wasn't fair.
"Bradley," you whispered, but he was already helping you up to a seated position. When you reached for his jeans again, he stopped you, and brought your hand up to his lips.
"It's okay, Kitten. We'll have more time another day," he told you, reaching for your bra and helping you put it on.
"I'm sorry, Bradley. It's just that Molly has to work tomorrow, and I promised I wouldn't be out-"
He quieted you with a kiss, letting his forehead rest against yours.
"I had fun with you tonight." His breath was hot against your face. "I want to go out with you again."
"Me too," you agreed right away. That wasn't even a question in your mind.
He pulled your shirt over your head before he popped open the passenger door. The air outside felt freezing as you stepped down onto your driveway, but Bradley followed you out, zipping up his jeans before wrapping his arm around you.
As he walked you up to your door, you bit your lip and nudged his semi hard length with your palm, and he groaned before he started to laugh.
"I'm sorry about that," you said with a grin.
"Don't be, Kitten," he said and then kissed you. "Got you off. That was more important."
You squeaked as his lips met your neck. "Nobody else has ever made me cum like that," you whispered into the cool air. Bradley groaned against your skin, making you clench as you added, "Frank couldn't get me off at all. I had to think about you to be able to finish."
Bradley froze and then backed you up against your porch railing, examining your face. "You thought about me when you were with another man?" he growled, and you trembled.
"Yes," you whispered, and he was pushing himself against you and tasting your tongue again. You were about to chance taking him up to your bedroom with you, but your neighbor's motion activated light turned on and lit up your entire porch.
Bradley pulled his mouth away from yours, but he was panting now, and his cock was twitching against your belly.
"I'll be thinking about that forever," he promised, looking at you in awe. He exhaled a ragged breath and said, "Go inside. I'll see you at the game tomorrow, Kitten."
You moaned as he stepped away from you and guided you to the door by your shoulders. "Good night, Coach." With one more kiss, you were opening your front door and letting your fingers brush against his.
When you closed your door and leaned against it, you saw Molly was smirking from your couch, holding a book on her lap.
"Oh my, look at you," she said, making you grin and giggle. "The two of you were sitting in the driveway for an awfully long time."
"Shut up," you mumbled, still smiling at her as she started to grab her things so she could leave. "Thanks, Molly."
After your sister left, you were too jittery to go to bed. Your skin felt flushed with heat, so you stripped down to your bra and damp underwear and fell back onto your bed, a puddle of satiated lust.
You giggled as you thought of the state Bradley left in. You grabbed your phone and texted him.
Sorry I left you with such a big problem to take care of.
He texted back so quickly, you were scrambling to see what he said.
Bradley Bradshaw: I just got home. I'm about to take care of it, Kitten.
You sucked air into your lungs, heart pounding as you wrote back.
Just how big of a problem is it?
He attached a photo that had your jaw dropping open. His cock was huge, tenting his gray boxer shorts. And he was grabbing himself through the fabric. You groaned as you were filled with need once again.
Bradley Bradshaw: Massive.
------------------------
Massive. Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!
Blow by Blow | Masterlist | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (18+)
Synopsis: Bradley’s washed up before his career has even really begun. He doesn’t want to fill his father’s shoes and he doesn’t want someone else to either. Stuck in limbo, living the same way he always has, the opportunity to step up wanders through the door of his gym in a mini dress and heels that are a size too big. Boxing au.
Warnings: unspecified age gap, violence, probs boxing inaccuracies somewhere along the line, blood and injuries throughout the fic but will be specified in the warnings of the chapter. Smut and other 18+ content, minors dni
Synopsis: Jake Seresin had sworn he was never going to be a father. He liked his life the way that it was, child-free, stress free and chaos free. Free being the key word. After falling for you, it becomes clear that Jake is in for an attitude adjustment, whether he likes it or not.
Warnings: no smut, maybe allusions to sex at various points, swearing, fluff and teeny bits of angst if you squint, Jake and Riley prepare to bond over their bad dad issues 🫶🏼
…
“Have a good day today!” Jake calls.
The car door swings shut behind the perpetually angry little girl and Jake sighs. He pulls the car away from the drop off zone and glances back to check that she got in okay. He hadn’t mentioned any of this when he called you last night. Only the good parts. Like Jax speaking more, playing at the park, finding the worm. Calling him dad for the first time.
He glances back at the little boy through the rear view mirror. He’s big enough now to not be rear facing, and grins at Jake as their eyes meet.
“Park?” He asks, tilting his head slightly like an excited puppy. Jake’s lips quirk softly, it’s hard not to smile when Jax gives him that huge smile.
“We’re gonna go see Uncle Rue first, but we can go to the park later.” He explains to him as the car pulls out onto the road. School drop off has always been a point of contention between you and Riley, so today is nothing different, your kid just isn’t a morning person.
But, she has barely said a word since her dad dropped her off yesterday and Jake’s not sure where he stands. The line between being negligent and nosy seems blurred when it’s a kid like Riley.
He can’t stop thinking about her attitude towards him. You’ll never agree to a future with him if it jeopardizes a relationship with one of your children, and he wouldn’t want you to. But god, he wants a future with you. More than anything, actually. Sleeping in your bed, spending time with your children — Jake feels closer to you as these past four weeks draw to a close than he ever has before.
He dreamt last night about what it would be like to marry you. Jax was a little older in the dream, and he was the ring bearer. He was beaming, and you were overjoyed at the sight of your little boy in a suit.
Riley, a foreboding and absent presence in his dream. Something missing from the perfect day that weighed in like a big grey cloud. He would want her there in real life, but he would want her to be happy to be there. Jake knows that if he proposed to you now, Riley’d be furious.
Plus, the two of you haven’t even been together a year yet, he’s not sure how you would take all of this future talk. If, a year ago, you had told him that he’d be driving your kid to school and thinking about marriage — he would’ve laughed in your face.
Jax balanced against his side and a backpack slung over his other shoulder, Jake’s juggling keys, a toddler and a water bottle in his hands as he lets the door swing shut behind him. Payback’s brows raise just slightly as he sets his coffee down on the coaster and leans back against the leather armchair that he’s situated in.
Rueben can’t pretend not to be taken aback at how quickly Jake seems to have mastered the daddy-daycare act. But then, given that this is the same man who taught himself piano in under a week just to spite Rooster, Rueben should’ve known better than to second guess Jake. He has always made everything look easy.
“Look at you,” Rueben teases, leaning forwards and smiling as Jake hands him the wriggling toddler. He sets JJ down on his knee and coos a hello towards him as Jake offloads everything that he’s holding and huffs out. “You’re a natural.”
“Doesn’t feel that way.” Jake mumbles tiredly as he sinks into the armchair opposite his friend. He smooths a hand over his forehead and tries to relax, stretching his legs out.
Rueben cocks an eyebrow at him and catches Jax’s hand seconds before it has time to dip into his still hot coffee. “Trouble in paradise, buddy?”
“Daddy.” Jax points at Jake and turns his head to look at Rueben. He points again to make his point clear. Jake stares across at the little boy and sighs softly.
“Well, that’s new.” Payback comments, brows raised. He glances between Jake and the toddler, then sets Jax on the ground so that he can stretch his legs.
“I don’t know what to do, I mean — they’ve already got a dad, and he’s gonna be pissed if he finds out that his kid is calling me daddy — but he’s never around!” Jake goes into defensive mode right away. Payback just sits there and watches, keeping one eye focused on the toddler as his friend rambles and rants in front of him.
With two daughters and a wife who is infinitely more intelligent than him, Payback has been a good listener for a long time. He just sits back and lets Jake go for as long as he needs, nodding his head as he tries to keep up with the pace of the panicked speech.
Jake finally stops with a slow inhale. He glances down towards Jax and takes note of the confusion on the toddler’s chubby features, then starts to wonder if he was even making any sense at all.
“Where’d Hangman go?” Payback taunts, giving a soft shake of his head. He looks Jake over like he’s really looking for the guy he used to know.
Unimpressed, Jake rubs tiredly at his temple. “Huh?”
“I mean Hangman’s worried about who he’s going home with tomorrow night and how much protein is in his lunch. I don’t know who this guy is, but Hangman would hate him.” Rueben’s just teasing, he’s smiling at Jake and it’s just a comment. He doesn’t mean anything by it. Jake glances down to the kid in front of him and then at the ground.
“Tell me about it.” Jake mumbles.
Payback scrunches his brows slightly, “Alright, man. What’s going on? — You’re weirding me out with all of this doom and gloom.”
Jake takes a quick look around him. It’s a Wednesday morning, right after the school run. There are plenty of toddlers in here, and adults having chats. It’s just that Jake and Payback are the only ones here that are men. Jake wouldn’t have been caught dead here when he was Hangman.
As much as the callsign was made to taunt him, Jake grew into it. He became Hangman. Confident, suave, independent. If he’s not that, he’s not too sure who he is.
“You’re right,” Jake’s shrug is cold and unattached. He won’t look at Jax as he speaks. Rueben stares right ahead at his friend. “This whole thing. You’re right, it’s just not me.”
There’s a long pause. As much as he wants to check on Payback’s reaction, Jake can’t bring himself to lift his gaze from the polished tile under his shoe for fear of meeting Jax’s gaze. There’s no way he can look into those big, round eyes and admit that he’s quite simply not enough.
The coffee shop chatter carries on around them. Jax carries on between them, toying around with the action figure that he has been clutching all morning. He crashes it into Payback’s knee and makes an explosion sound. Rueben smooths a hand tenderly over the little boy’s back.
“Jake.” His tone is dead serious now, and quiet. It’s his dad voice. Jake recognises it. He’s seen Payback gently scolding his kid enough times to know that that’s what is happening now. Rueben sits forward slightly and covers Jax’s ears with his hands. “You say that shit to me again and we’re going to have a problem.”
Jake looks up and frowns at him. “What?”
“You don’t get to quit because you’re freaked out. You do that to these kids and I swear to god, I’ll never talk to you again.” Payback swears, still covering the toddler’s ears. Jax doesn’t even seem to mind, playing calmly with his action figure and kicking his legs.
Jake adjusts the cap on his head and checks around him again. He’s fidgety and agitated, chewing at the inside of his cheek. “You don’t get it.”
“I don’t? — You think that I don’t get scared shitless like three times a week that I’m not good enough for my kids? — I’m terrified of screwing them up, but I’m here, and I’m doing what I can.”
“It’s complicated. They’re not,” Jake pauses to glance down as Jax wriggles around in Rueben’s lap, struggling to try to get down. “They aren’t mine.”
Knowing better than to fight against a toddler that has already made up their mind, Rueben moves to that Jax can get down. Right away, Jax brushes past him and heads for Jake. He stands between Jake’s legs and leans into his thigh, holding up his action figure for Jake to see.
“Daddy, look.”
Jake smiles softly and scrunches his nose just the slightest bit. Jax grins at the attention and presents the action figure closer to Jake, almost swinging it into his chin. The toddler seems to remind himself to be more gentle as he leans in against Jake’s chest. Jake squeezes at his sides, making the toddler squeal and squirm in front of him. He lifts him up and sets him down on his knee.
Rueben stares across at Jake.
“It’s complicated.” Jake insists as he smooths a hand over Jax’s wild hair to tame it. Jax taps Jake’s arm to make sure that he’s watching and flies his action figure around in front of them.
“Not to me,” His tone is gentler this time, he’s relaxed as he watches Jake and the kid together. They look so natural together. Payback motions and Jake covers Jax’s ears without question, gently kissing the curls on top of his head. “He doesn’t know who his dad is and who isn’t. He knows who’s there for him.”
“Yeah, well Riley knows and she hates me.” Jake answers back. JJ squints across at Payback, seemingly aware of the fact that they’re discussing something that they don’t want him to hear. He quickly goes back to playing with his toy.
“That’s what kids do — look, Jake, I can sit here and tell you about how much kids are going to break your heart, but,” He stops to sigh, smoothing a hand over his facial hair. He glances quickly between Jake and the oblivious kid sitting on his leg. “If you’re going to leave, man, just go ahead and do it.”
Jake’s brows scrunch together just slightly.
“But you don’t get to come back.” Payback explains calmly. He looks at Jake, deadly serious. “You leave those kids and you’re gone for good. Are you good with never seeing him again?”
Jake takes his hands away from Jax’s ears and squeezes his sides softly. The toddler turns and squeals excitedly, grinning up at Jake. It’s scary, sure. But it’s scarier to imagine not seeing this face every day, that cute little smile and hearing those excited giggles.
And god, he’s never loved anyone like he loves you. These past three weeks have been hell without you, he has been counting down the days until you’re back with him again. Never seeing you again isn’t even something that he had considered. His crisis of faith is cut short as his phone rings loud in his pocket.
He slips it from his jeans and takes the call, pinning the phone between his ear and shoulder as he keeps Jax steady in his lap. “Hello?”
“Hello, is this Riley’s stepfather?”
Luckily, with the day off, Payback was more than happy to take Jax for a while. Jake quickly yanks his cap off of his head and tugs his fingers through his hair, swallowing the lump in his throat as he steps through the doors of the school. Riley’s sitting on a chair outside of the principal’s office, scowling at the floor with her arms across her chest.
The principal is crouched in front of her, trying to talk to her calmly. Riley’s silent, staring at a dirt smudge of the floor.
“Riley?”
The principal stands and turns, extending an open palm towards Jake swiftly. “Ah. Mr. Seresin. A quick word in my office, please?”
It’s clear immediately that Jake has never done this before. He doesn’t bother taking a seat, even when Mr. Anderson settles behind his desk and motions for Jake to do so. He swallows nervously and asks if Riley is okay.
The principal watches Jake’s reaction calmly as he explains what happened. Disbelief comes first, it crosses his face clearly but his Navy career has taught him better than to voice his disagreement out loud.
There just is no way that Riley would have cursed at a teacher. Jake is sure of it. He’s sure of it because he is pretty confident that if Riley knew any curse words, she would have already directed a few of them at him.
She has always been a delight in school — you were always bragging about how great she was doing in her classes.
Jake pinches the bridge of his nose as the principal explains further. Great, so not only is he annoying Riley with his mere existence, but he’s screwing up her future now too.
“We aren’t going to suspend her.”
Jake sighs in relief and leans his head back.
“Y’know, this is the first time that it has happened and we’re confident that it won’t happen again. But, um, Mr. Seresin— I really hope that you don’t think I’m overstepping here, but,” He pushes his round glasses up the bridge of his nose as he stands. Jake gets the feeling that he won’t like what’s coming next. “I’m not sure that you’re really qualified to get Riley through this time in her life. Maybe you could talk to her mother and—“
All semblance of being calm and composed flies out the window as Jake cocks his head at the geeky looking brunette behind the desk. The principal swallows softly and stops talking.
“I’ve got it. Thanks.” Jake bites.
Long day after fucking long day. Only seven more of them until you’re home and he’s no longer outnumbered. He lets the door to the office slam behind him as he steps back out into the reception. “Put your coat on, let’s go.”
“Not cold.” Riley argues, slinging it over her arm and grabbing her backpack. She walks for the door before she even has it over her shoulder. Jake turns to follow her but stops as he catches sight of a familiar face. There’s a blonde walking along the hall with a lanyard around her neck saying substitute.
It takes him a couple of seconds, standing there and trying to place where he knows her from. Then it clicks. The smiling face leaning over Alex’s shoulder the other day. His lips part as he looks back towards Riley.
Jake Seresin had sworn he was never going to be a father. He liked his life the way that it was, child-free, stress free and chaos free. Free being the key word. After falling for you, it becomes clear that Jake is in for an attitude adjustment, whether he likes it or not.
Summary: Rooster witnesses an intimate moment between you and Jake. A week later at a small get-together, things take a turn you weren't expecting. Good thing the guys know a thing or two about going with the flow.
A/N: who doesn't want to get railed by these two at once? that's my excuse for this. The second part will come sometime later this week.
“I hate this,” you mutter, referring to the mindless action movie playing at a low volume on the screen. “Can’t we watch something else?”
“I can’t find the remote,” your boyfriend replies with a lazy drawl.
It’s probably lost in the abyss of lopsided couch cushions after a rowdy game of beer pong hours before. A bag of pretzels and red solo cups containing half-drunk beer still line the coffee table. Crushed potato chips litter the carpet. That’ll be a joy for everyone to clean in the morning, but everywhere needs to be spotless if you want to get the deposit for this rental back.
You whine, cuddling your face into Jake’s warm neck after another cringy gunfight sequence. “If another car catches fire, I’m going to scream.”
He chuckles, his chest vibrating in amusement. The sensation is soothing against your palm. “That might be a little upsetting to the drunk crowd upstairs.”
“Then that’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”
Pilots are a competitive bunch and have a habit of carrying that tendency into every facet of their lives. So when Mickey and Rueben introduced the beer pong as tonight’s game, it wasn’t your garden variety high school drinking contest. This one involved spinning, slapping yourself on the face twice, and throwing the ball with your eyes closed. Easy stuff.
The result was three twelve packs emptied and two Patron bottles demolished. Another thing pilots loved doing was drinking. You, as a civilian, had a very weak liver compared to them. That meant you slinked off to the couch to sober up after two beers until Jake came to join you once everyone drank enough to lose their footing.
“Yeah, I still need them to like me,” you say.
“They like you just fine,” He assures, stroking your arm.
Jake convinced you to tag along on the team’s vacation to Monterey, where they all pitched in to rent a beach house. They’d gotten a month’s leave and weren’t sick of each other’s faces yet, opting to enjoy a week at the beach together. Your hesitation came from the fact that you were the odd man out.
You work on the base as a civilian instructor after a stint with the DOD. It was a more straightforward assignment when compared to managing the stiff-necked generals in the Pentagon whose intimidating gazes never got easier to endure. Here, you had a few pompous pilots sneer at the idea of being taught by a civilian, but it was nothing too challenging.
Admiral Simpson treated you with respect despite his rigid demeanor and the other instructors didn’t take your suggestions and calculations as background noise to be changed at will.
“They probably like you more than me,” Jake adds.
You roll your eyes. “Stop that, they do not.”
The squad welcomed you warmly. Their bond was firm, forged in the heat of the daring mission that earned them acclaim, the details of which you’d gotten in a redacted report. You were accommodated and included in a way that went beyond being Hangman’s girlfriend.
“No, I’m pretty sure Phoenix wouldn’t mind if you became her wingman instead,” he grins.
“Phoenix is a babe, but I prefer calculating the trajectory of an F-18 instead of being in one, so I’ll pass.”
“Thanks for saving my job, babe,” he winks.
You kiss the corner of his mouth, helpless to the creeping affection in your voice. “Anytime.”
A loud snore suddenly erupts on the couch to your right, startling you. You peek sideways to see Rooster draped over it, arm over his face, lying on his back. His gray t-shirt is ridden up, exposing a patch of his tanned torso, rising and falling with each subsequent exhale. He must have fallen asleep a while ago, but you don’t remember seeing him stumble over there.
Jake caresses the nape of your neck. “I do not miss sharing a bunk with that guy. He sounds like a fucking train engine.”
“He’s tired,” you reason. Bradley did down three shots in a row without slowing down, despite winning each shot he made during the game. “Do you think that couch is comfortable enough for his back?”
“He’s fine. He’s had worse before on deployment,” Jake dismisses.
Your eyes narrow. “That’s no excuse.”
Ltd. Bradley Bradshaw was a gentleman, and you’d gotten along before you even started dating Jake. Your interactions were shallow since an active squad member didn’t have too much professional intersection with an instructor, but a step above necessary cordialness. He brought you coffee more than once from the mess hall when you spent late nights in your office and chatted a few times about being a new implant to the West Coast. Some might christen your interactions as a tentative friendship.
Once or twice, you’d suspected that he was going to ask you out, but nothing of the sort ever happened. There’s no denying that a hint of disappointment stung, but some things weren’t meant to be.
Not long after that, Jake got transferred back to the Dagger squad after a brief stint in Nevada and asked you out within one week of your first meeting. Saying yes is a choice you’ve not come close to regretting for the last six months.
“Fucking relax, will you? These cushions are softer than a bunny’s ass.” Your boyfriend smacks it repeatedly for good measure. “See?”
You grace Bradley’s slumbering figure with one more concerned look. “Fine.”
“Look at you mother henning little Rooster,” Jake coos, ignoring the playful swat to his shoulder. “I’d be jealous if I didn’t know any better.” but he knows better.
“I’m just being nice.” You lay your head back against the couch and extend one of your legs over his lap in a half straddle. “That’s why your teammates like me more.”
“Way to rub it in, babe.”
Another few minutes of silence follow as the awful movie continues. The plot is lost on you, not that you care, but boredom makes your mind attempt to follow the rest of it. Not long after, you sense the familiar weight of those blue-green eyes raking over you in interest. You ignore it but a thrill simmers beneath your skin and you keep your vision on the terrible movie, pretending not to notice. Jake shifts closer to you, nuzzling the back of your ear. Your toes wiggle in delight beneath the soft blanket that envelopes the two of you.
You clear your throat silently, forcing your eyes to remain on the screen, but the awareness of what’s coming builds heat in your nether region.
“What?” you ask.
“Nothing.” He continues to kiss your neck in slow, lazy patterns. His hand is beneath the blanket on your bare thighs, teasing against the edge of your shorts. His thumb is dangerously close to your zipper. A sharp exhale escapes your pursed lips.
“You ok?” Jake asks with a smirk.
You say nothing but arch your back against the hand now unzipping your shorts. He pulls it down, reaching inside where heated skin awaits, aching for relief. His fingers dance over your underwear but pull away before any real action begins.
“What you are doing?” you try to mask your building frustration, but a slight whine accompanies your question.
“Just wanna touch my girlfriend. My gorgeous, fucking unbelievable girlfriend.” He speaks the words in a reverent whisper as he palms your breast. Heat engulfs your neck and ascends. You’re still getting used to this. Still getting used to being treated like the most valuable and desirable thing in existence by this man. None of your previous relationships come close with exes doing the hardhearted minimum and flings, leaving you more hollow than satisfied. It still blew your mind to be wanted like this.
Your first impression of Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin gave no hint of it. He met you on the way to the Admiral’s office with a larger-than-life swagger and cocky smile you knew earned him more affirmations than rejections. But the side of him you know now fills you with gratitude.
“I want to eat your pussy, babe.” He whispers, hot breath against your neck, making you shudder. The blanket has slipped from his lap and one side dangles from the couch to graze the carpeted floor. Oh, you want this, you want this very much.
Sex with Jake is a revelation. There’s the assumption that arrogant show-offs must overcompensate for a lack of something, but that doesn’t apply to Jake. He puts his money where his mouth is, so you’re more satisfied than you’ve ever been in your entire life. There’s no time or place you could ever not want to jump his bones, present time included.
Your eye flits to the sleeping man with caution.
“He sleeps like the dead,” Jake assures as if he can read your mind.
Going upstairs is a better option for complete privacy but your desire addled mind is too eager for Jake’s mouth on you. Plus, Bradley looks out of it.
Either way, the decision is out of your hands when Jake gets off the couch and yanks the rest of the blanket from your heated body. He gets on his knees, running his smooth callused palms over your thighs then inching upward to drag your shorts and underwear off. You arch up to aid him until he divests your clothing, then your thighs part in muscle memory, exposing your aroused cunt to his approving gaze. Anticipation hovers over your thoughts as he guides your thighs over his shoulders, gripping your hips with enough force to keep you steady but not cause discomfort. Chapped lips peck the inside of your thighs, sending a wave of goosebumps throughout your entire body.
Your bottom lip gets caught between your incisors as he noses your labia, muttering to himself. Small heated pants escape your lips, then convert to a full moan once Jake laps your pussy with a long stripe.
“Fuck.” Your hands reach for the roots of his hair, tugging to enforce control you don’t have. The intensity increases with each tortuous stroke, making your hips buck forward in desperation. A mixture of your slick and Jake’s saliva slides down your inner thigh, dripping onto the couch. Tomorrow there’ll be time to worry about it, but for now, you are focused on nothing more than a sweet release.
Jake devours you with an enthusiasm borne from greed. He sucks your clit, making you clutch a throw pillow with enough force to tear. All your nerve endings are alive, thrumming with intense pleasure as you’ve never felt before. His name tumbles from your lips in soft cries begging him for more while forgetting the words to do so because it just feels so good.
Two fingers slip in aided by the generous wetness and curl up to tease your G-spot. That makes your mouth open in a silent scream as your hips squirm in desperation. Jake makes obscene noises as his fingers pump in and out, accompanied by the heavy flick of his tongue on your clit.
“I’ll never tire of this,” he pants, pulling away for a break and then reattaching that wicked mouth back where it belongs. It’s too much. Your eyes squeeze shut, surrendering to the rollercoaster of sensations you’re subjected to. The release you seek is so close you can taste the tartness on your tongue. Your eyes open and the grip on Jake’s hair tightens. That white-hot cascade is about to envelop you when a pair of confused brown eyes catch yours and mild horror overcomes you.
Bradley is still laying down but there’s no mistaking that he’s wide awake. His eyes catch yours and you see the confusion turn into realization. Panic seeps in, but your encroaching ecstasy overpowers it, leaving the sensible alarm you’re supposed to blurt to the man buried between your legs null. Jake is none the wiser.
To your surprise, Bradley says nothing either. The shame you expect to come like a tidal wave is nowhere to be found. Instead, you’re focused on his reaction.
He’s perfectly still, observing, and silent. It’s too far to be certain of, but you notice an appreciative glint in his studious expression. A minuscule flare of pride pulses within you. Perhaps some buried attention-seeking tendency of yours has awakened.
Then you bite your bottom lip, taken aback when Jake gives a vicious flick with his heavenly tongue and cum hard, legs shaking like a truck engine. It’s so good you black out for a few seconds, returning to reality when Jake glides up and kisses you with slick stained lips.
“That good?” he asks.
You nod. “So good.”
From the corner of your eye, you brave a look. Bradley’s eyes are closed once more, back to slumber, but your heart still pounds like a hammer within your ribcage. For a brief moment, you wonder if you imagined getting caught by him.
“Let’s finish this upstairs, shall we?” Jake says huskily.
You breathe. “Yeah, let’s do that.”
He lifts you off the couch, urging your bare thighs to wrap around his torso. You bury your face in his neck inhaling the grounding scent of his sandalwood cologne as he carries you to your assigned bedroom.
The next morning during breakfast with the group, your eyes dart at Bradley every few seconds, eager for any reaction to know where you stand. He gives nothing away, acting like he didn’t witness you getting your pussy eaten within an inch of your life. Part of you wonders if it was a dream or the result of an overactive imagination, but the denial does no good.
You know what you saw and, most importantly, know what he saw.
“I love watching that big brain of yours buzz around.” Jake kisses your knuckles as you absently reach for a packet of sweetener. “Something on your mind, sweetheart?”
“Nothing,” you dismiss with a smile.
Bradley doesn’t look in your direction, focused on his own meal of toast and eggs. You take a nervous bite of your bagel. You didn’t tell Jake about what happened last night, uncertain of his reaction. He and Bradley had a strange rivalry that was mostly teasing, but you could tell contained an unspoken history. Natasha informed you it was worse in their TOPGUN days but simmered down into serene cordiality, to everyone’s relief.
Still, you weren’t sure how he’d take the knowledge that his teammate and sometimes friend watched him eat you out without a word. And worse, you let it happen.
Jake kisses your hand again, making your thoughts fuzzy. His pecks trail up to your elbow, making you giggle with delight and embarrassment. “Babe!”
“Hangman, some of us are eating here,” Phoenix chides, spooning herself some yogurt. “Maul her in your own time, please.”
All your boyfriend does is smirk shamelessly, placing an arm around your shoulder. “It’s not my fault that my girlfriend is too good not to eat.”
“Jake,” you groan.
“It’s still weird to see Hangman being all lovey-dovey. No offense, Doc,” Mickey pipes up.
“None taken,” you reply. They’d taken to calling you Doc since you had a Ph.D. in Applied Physics and treated it like an unofficial callsign.
“Guess all it took was the right person to bring it out of him,” Javy remarks with a knowing look. Your entire face feels warm from the insinuation. It had been a few months, but you were certain your feelings skewed past the infatuation phase and Jake certainly made you believe he did, too.
“I guess I’m a lucky woman,” you state, intertwining your fingers with Jake’s. He kisses your cheek in reply.
“Nah,” Bradley interjects, to your surprise. Everyone turns to him. It’s the first thing he’s said all morning. “I’d say Hangman’s the lucky one. Doc’s one of a kind.”
“I can’t believe I agree with Rooster for once!” Jake groans like a diva.
“Man’s not wrong. I don’t know how she puts up with you,” Natasha says.
Amidst the chatter, Bradley winks in your direction, eyes shining with a glimmer only you can interpret.
Your mouth dries out.
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