rooster :')

head-over-heels for a certain poultry pilot

[bradshawsbaby]

SFW Alphabet for Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw

Pairing: Rooster x Female!Reader

Author’s Note: I’ve been seeing a lot of Top Gun alphabet posts going around, so I thought it’d be fun to write one!

Warnings: Check for cavities from all the fluff.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Rooster is extremely affectionate with you. He’s always giving you kisses and telling you how much he loves you. He loves to be holding you close, no matter what you’re doing. If you’re out at the bar, he’s got his arm around your waist. If you’re at home on the couch, he’s snuggling with you.

He also shows his affection through his actions. Rooster is very thoughtful. He’s quick to leave you little notes and to pick up things he knows you like, like your favorite flowers or the ice cream you mentioned you’d been craving.

Keep reading

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Medical Emergency

Summary: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Fe!Reader -> When Jake gets a call asking to pick you up from the hospital, it's safe to say he's confused. Especially considering neither of you were known for getting along with the other.

Disclaimer: Enemies to lovers, brother's best friend, descriptions of being ill (nothing fully specified, just fainting a lot, low blood sugar and hormones), swearing, fluff, steamy moments, he takes care of you. This has been in my w.i.p for a while now so it's kinda a long one. Not Proof Read.

It was safe to say Jake was confused to find out he was your emergency contact. 

It was known to most people in the town that you and Jake weren’t exactly the best of friends. The hatred started all back when he was brought into Top Gun the first time round. Before he suddenly became the best, of the best of the best. And each year he came back, it only got worse. 

Neither of you would be surprised if everyone in San Diego knew about how much you and Jake didn’t get along. 

So, yeah. Getting a call from a Nurse called Emma telling him he needed to come and pick you up from the hospital…he was confused. 

He’d spent most of the day training the new recruits at Top Gun. He was on base when he got the call, but twenty minutes later, he was parked outside the hospital and was being shown to your room. 

“She’s to take two of these every six hours for the next three days. If she has any drastic changes; dizziness, nausea, vomiting, etc. Bring her back. But she should be okay.”

He hadn’t even been told what had happened. 

Then he saw you. 

On a typical day, your hair was either up or down. You typically wore bright colours since the kids in your class like to point them out and name them. And even at the end of the week when you’d walk into the Hard Deck, Penny already having your drink waiting for you, and you’d look tired and ready to go to bed, you were still…bright. Put together. 

But from where he was standing, you were dressed in grey sweats and a Top-Gun hoodie. Most likely, you thought it was your brother’s. But from the worn hole around the edge of it let Jake know it was his. One your brother had never returned to him. 

You looked…like you needed to be comforted. 

Your hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail at the base of your skull. Any hints of make-up had been long washed away. Your nail polish was chipped, if not already peeled from your nails. 

Finally slipping your shoes on, you stood slowly. You looked like you needed to sleep for a year, and maybe take another nap for eight months. 

“Just sign here and here and then you’re free to go.”

Jake watched as the nurse’s words just about registered in your ears before you slowly picked the pen up from her hand and signed your name at the bottom of the paper. 

Reaching to grab the rest of your stuff, Jake almost swooped forwards. “I’ve got it.”

You just nodded. “Thanks.”

Any other day, you would have told him you could do it yourself and tell him to fuck off. 

He picked up your overnight bag and, with a hand at the bottom of your back, led you out of the hospital. 

“This way.”

You followed him back to his car and once he knew you were safe inside the passenger seat, he rounded the car and got into his seat. 

“I did tell them just to call me a cab. You can just drop me off down the road. You don’t need to-”

“I’m not letting you walk home.” He told you. “What’s your address?”

Part of Jake wished you’d fight him more about walking home. At least that way he’d know you were actually okay. He still would have driven you home, but…he wanted you back. 

Typing your address into his phone, he followed the sat-nav. 

By the time he pulled up outside your house, you were asleep. He waited for five minutes, letting you sleep whilst he researched and read the prescription you’d been given. 

Then he looked up at your house. You had to have a spare key. 

Carefully, he left his car and walked up your path. He looked in all the typical places until he found a small patch of wood from your porch coming loose. Inside was your key. 

So, opening your door and carrying your things inside, he came back for you. 

Unbuckling your seatbelt, he placed one of your arms around his neck before placing his own arms around your back and under your legs. 

“It’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

And you did. 

Shutting the door to his car with his back, he carried you into your house, shutting your front door with his foot before taking you into your bedroom and laying you on top of your sheets. Looking around, he found a basket of blankets just under your window. 

However, as he covered you up, he checked your temp with the back of his hand. You seemed okay. 

Then you reached for him. 

It was only for a few seconds, but you held his hand before your body fell back to sleep. 

Before he left your room, Jake got you a glass of water and left your window on a latch. And then he stayed. 

Kicking off his boots by the door, he locked everything up around your home before laying down on top of the guest bed with a million and one questions circling around his head. 

Why was he your emergency contact? What had happened? Why didn’t anyone else tell him you were in the hospital for, clearly, more than a couple of hours? 

You spent the next two days in and out of consciousness. The hospital told Jake not to worry and that it was a good sign you were sleeping. He’d wake you every couple of hours and give you your tablets. 

And each time, you’d wake up with the same confusion of how and why he was in your house. And then you’d remember. And apologise. And thank him. Before he’d tell you to lay back down and get some rest. 

By the time you came round, you woke up to texts pinging on your phone. 

How could you not tell me you were dating someone?

We SERIOUSLY need to catch up about this when you’re back in. 

Your boyfriend called the school. Why is this how I’m finding out you’re sick?

Get better soon, honey xoxo

Also, don’t worry about the kids. I’ve got your class covered. 

One of your fellow-teacher best friends. You and her had joined the school as teachers in the same year. She had been away on a cruise for the last two weeks. 

Slowly, everything that had happened over the last two days came flooding back to you. They had called Jake. He had come to get you at the hospital. He kept waking you up. Had he stayed that whole time? Was he the one to call your school?

Pulling yourself from your bed and heading to the bathroom, you caught a look of yourself in the mirror. You looked…rough. And also the exact same as you had when you’d left the hospital. Maybe there was a little more colour in your cheeks. 

And you did feel better. 

The room felt still and you didn’t feel like throwing up all your insides out, despite being unable to do so. 

Drying your hands on the towel, you made your way through your home. Things were…tidy. Militarily so. The last time your place, although tidy, had looked militarily tidy had been when your brother had visited you before he got deployed again. 

So, either, he was here now. Jake was still here. Or you had a ghost haunting your house that just so happened to be in the Navy. 

Walking down the stairs, you found a pair of boots at the bottom of your stairs. They definitely weren’t yours. 

Then you heard someone in the kitchen. The smell of fresh bread and chicken noodle soup wafted through your home. 

It was a minute or two before Jake spotted you. It felt like a fever dream, watching him in your kitchen, dressed normally, a towel slung over his shoulder as he slid the bread buns from the tray to a cooling rack. 

“Oh, hey. You’re awake.”

You nodded. “Did you cook?”

“How are you feeling?” Jake made his way over to you, his hand coming to touch your forehead and cheeks. You swatted his hands away. You could have sworn you saw him smile after you did it. 

“Get off me, I’m fine.”

Jake smiled as he watched you make your way to sit down on the opposite side of the kitchen island. You looked way better than you had done when he saw you in the hospital. 

“What day is it?”

“Tuesday.” He told you, continuing to slide all but one of the bread buns onto the cooling back. The final one, he dropped onto a plate before dishing out a bowl of the soup. 

“Eat up. You’re gonna need your strength.”

You looked at the food in front of you. “You made this?”

“I made it.”

You looked at him sceptically. “Is this how you plan to kill me? She was weak, your honour. I just wanted to help her.”

“Why would I take care of you for three days and then kill you? It’d be easier if I did it in three days.”

“So you did think about it.”

Jake rolled his eyes and handed you a fork. “Just eat.”

You couldn’t lie, it was one of the best meal’s you’d had in a long time. And as you ate, you looked around your home. Your books had been tidied away and back onto your shelves. All except two. One you were part way through reading and one that was…almost finished. But not by you. 

You didn’t notice as Jake watched you take everything in. Your books, your pots of pens. You dish towels, your spices and other baking ingredients. Some had even been put into the jars you had been meaning to fill back up. Then you noticed the smaller things. Like how he’d put up the wooden signs in your kitchen you’d been planning to do for months, and how he’d cleaned…everything. 

It looked like he’d done a complete renovation of your place whilst you’d been knocked out. 

Then you noticed the pile of papers on your kitchen counter. 

The English and maths tests you’d given to your class a few weeks ago. You hadn’t finished marking them. 

But Jake had. 

You took the top paper and looked it over. 

“Did you mark these?” You flipped through the pages. Not only were they marked, but they were marked correctly. They even had a sticker on each of “well done” or “great stuff”. 

You heard Jake chuckle. “I am a teacher, too, you know.”

“You’re a…Top Gun instructor. Not a third-grade teacher.”

“I do suppose I am over qualified to help but-”

You shook your head. You hadn’t meant for it to sound so insulting.

“No, I-I mean, thank you. But you didn’t have to do this. Any of this.” You gestured around your home. “You already did enough bringing me home.”

“I wanted to ask you about that. Why was it me that brought you home? Surely you have people who you actually like, to be your emergency contact?”

Tyler watched as you fell silent and searched for the words to tell him. 

“You’re…not.” Taking a breath, you looked up at him. “They…they tried a couple of people. They couldn’t make it. One of the nurses knows Penny so called and asked if she had anyone’s number who I knew. I did try and tell them to just call me a cab.”

He let your words settle over him. 

“Who?”

“What?”

“Who else did you call? Who didn’t pick up?”

You listed them off. Most were people in your family and a couple of friends. 

“I would have fought them on it but-”

“I’m glad you called me.” Jake admitted you. And it struck you. “Give me your phone.”

You slid it over to him. And he called his number from your phone. 

“If anything like that happens again, I want you to call me.”

“Jake-”

He shook his head. “You’re not fighting me on this. Fight me on everything else. Anything else. But not this. Call me.”

So you just nodded. “Okay.”

“Good. And eat up, too.”

You did. “You say that as if we’ve got some place to be.”

“We do.”

“Where?”

“You’ll see.”

Twenty minutes later he practically shoved you into your bathroom en-suit telling you to shower and get changed. 

“I thought my nurse was meant to be kind.”

“I am kind!” He said. “And I’m not a nurse. And I’m a friend.”

You laughed a little at that one. 

“I’ve seen the inside of your junk drawer. I’m your friend. I have to be, or else I don’t have a word for it.”

He did have a point on that. Your junk drawer…even you hadn’t seen the inside of that thing in at least a year. 

So, after getting dressed, taking the last of your antibiotic and forcing some kind of health smoothie Hangman had made you with the blender he found at the back of your cupboard, you found yourself back in the passenger seat of his car. 

“Where are we going?”

He said nothing, just smiled and pulled the aviators from his collar and put them on before starting his engine and for a moment you wondered if that was what he did when he got into his jet. Flash his million-dollar smile before starting his jet engine and taking off into the sky. For a moment you wondered what it would be like to watch him land and look over at you just like he did. 

But then you forced yourself back to reality. 

This was Jake Seresin, aka Hangman. Given that name because he hangs his team out to dry. 

But he didn’t leave you. 

In fact, he was the only one to show up. 

And the first to stay. 

You read the road signs as best as you could until you realised where he was taking you. 

“You know there is a beach like ten minutes from my house.”

He nodded. “I know. But you’re there all the time. You’ve seen that patch a thousand times. This is different.”

“How? Isn’t all sand the same?”

He shrugged, still smiling. “Maybe. But they always say the beach can work a thousand miracles. Come on.”

It was a five minute walk to the bottom. 

“Is it usually this empty?”

He looked around. “There’s usually a couple more people, but yeah. This is usually it. Not many people drive this far down. They think it’s not the best but to me…couldn’t be more perfect.”

“Huh.”

“What?” Jake asked, looking at you. 

You continued looking out to the water. You shook your head. “No, nothing. Just…never thought you’d be the sentimental type.”

“Well…I’m not.” 

You looked at him. 

“To most people.”

It was at that moment you felt a small crackle. Either in your chest or your gut, something crackled. And you felt the blanket of hatred you had for Jake Seresin start to fade. 

His call sign might be ‘Hangman’, but you had a strong feeling that when it came to those he cared about…he tried his best to stick around. And even if he couldn’t, he’d make a memory of them to last a lifetime. 

 For the rest of the day, you spent most of your time lying on the beach watching the waves or reading your book, which he had packed. And it was…one of the best days you’d had in a long time. 

“Why are you doing this?”

“What?” Moving the book from his face, Jake looked at you from beneath his shades as you lay on your stomach beside him. 

“This? Less than a week ago I’m pretty sure people would have made money on you and I killing each other. Why are you helping me?”

“Because you need it. And I’m pretty sure anyone else would believe you when you say that you don’t.”

“And you don’t believe me?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know you.”

You scoffed. “What do you mean you know me?”

You watched as he smiled and tried to kill the butterflies in your stomach. 

“Y/n.”

You were still getting used to the fact he was using your first name. Usually it was your last, or some sweet nickname like ‘Sweetheart’ that would grate through your entire body. 

“You spend most of your time making sure everyone feels okay and is doing okay. The only time you actually let your feelings know is when you’re taking shit to me. You deserve a break. You deserve to take one before your body forces you to have one.”

Hearing his words as he spoke, you slowly sat up until your back was to the water and you were fully facing him. 

“Plus, your brother asked me to look out for you. And I’d rather not suffer his wrath again.”

Okay, that had to be complete bull. Your brother’s wrath when it came to protecting you, that was true. But why ask Jake of all people given he knew your history and track record with him. 

And what did he mean by again?

You barely had time to ask all of your questions before you watched him stand up, throwing his book closed to the ground. You mentally scolded yourself for letting your eyes wander all over him. 

You weren’t blind to the fact Hangman looked, well, like him. A daring smile, enough charm to charm even the most sourest of people and the body to go with it. But before today, you had been immune. At least, you considered yourself immune since the blanket of hatred that you held for him seemed to block plenty out. 

Worst of all, he caught you. 

You knew he caught you because of the smirk on his face and the chuckle that escaped his broad chest. 

“Shut up.” You groaned, forcing yourself to stand. “I’ve been in the hospital. My immune system is temporarily weakened.”

“It isn’t the first time I’ve caught you, Sweetheart.” Seresin drawled just as you looked at him both annoyed and confused. And maybe slightly offended that he thought you had, before today, purposefully checked him out. 

But he just laughed. “Come on, I want to show you something.”

“But what about our stuff?”

“It’ll be safe. I know most of the people on this beach, they’ll make sure nothing happens to it.”

Taking your hand in his, he led you down the beach, under a small cove and through to the otherside where some rocks were covered in seaweed and sand. 

And for a while, you and Jake explored the place. You’d never been this far down the beach so finding out it existed was a bonus. Finding seaweed to pop and watching the crabs crawl across some of the rocks was fun. 

You’d never stop to take a break. Straight out of college, you’d begun teaching. It had been in your home town until your brother got accepted into Top Gun. And, with an internalised fear of losing him, you moved out to San Diego. You knew after a while he’d be stationed somewhere else, but you’d managed to find a home there. And when your brother was stationed not too far from his Top Gun base, the rest of your family moved closer. 

Since then, it has been helping them get settled, tutoring their children after spending all day teaching. It was sleepless nights spent alone at home, living off the quickest food you could make because you simply didn’t have time to cook. It was running yourself so far into the ground that the one person who you never thought would even step foot into your home was the only one to show up and give you enough space to actually relax. 

So watching crabs walk along the rocks was fun. 

And hearing your name, and calling out his name above the waves, without hatred or malice behind it, was fun, too. 

“Come and look at this.”

Carefully, you made your way over the rocks, trying your best not to slip and hit your head. And you did so, until the last rock before you joined him. 

Letting out a small yell as you reached out to try and catch yourself, he threw out his hand and caught you. 

“You okay?”

“Fine.”

“Can you stand?”

You lowered yourself to a lower rock, still holding onto his arms before letting go and allowing yourself to take his hand and help you up the rest of the way. 

“What am I looking at?”

It was a starfish. 

The rest of the day, you and Jake explored the shore, skipped rocks on the calming water, sunbathed and even took a swim in the water. 

By the time the sun had set, you found yourself sitting with him on the hood of his car, a pizza box between you both, watching the planes fly from the airport. 

A week ago, if anyone had told you that you would have done any of this, especially with Hangman, you would never have believed them. 

“Thank you, for your help.” You blurted out as you watched another plane fly into the sky. 

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Yes, I do.” You wanted him to listen to you. “Given our track record for being nice to each other, I wouldn’t have been surprised if you didn’t turn up at the hospital to bring me home. But you did. And you made sure I didn’t fall into some kind of coma after it. And today you gave me the first day, I think, ever, where I’ve not done a thousand things for somebody else and enjoyed what I was doing. So, I do need to thank you for that.”

“Are you saying…you…like me?”

You couldn’t stop the smile on your face, but you tried to force it away. “Okay.”

“No, no. I mean, this is a miracle.”

“You’re tolerable.” You corrected him. 

Smiling, he took another slice of pizza. “You like me.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You like me. I am now your friend. We are now friends.”

You shook your head, holding in a laugh. “Just shut up and eat your pizza.”

It was safe to say after that, that everyone was shocked at the dynamic between both you and Hangman. 

They had all gotten so used to the insults and borderline flirty comments you’d both sling each other's way, it had become like white noise. So, when it was gone and replaced with laughter and smiling, it gave everyone a terrified feeling. 

“I’m guessing they’re not here yet.”

Penny shook her head as she poured another pint. With a smile, she nodded over to the other end of the bar. “They’re over there.”

Twenty minutes later, it had become like a social study for everyone in the bar to watch you and Jake. 

“Do you think they fucked? Got all that pent up energy out?”

Coyote shook his head. “No, he would have told me. How long have they been like this? Maybe they’ve been hypnotised into liking each other?”

Rooster shook his head. “The hypnotist left like three months ago. Maybe they’re…faking it. Do you think they heard us talking about them last week? About who would kill who first? Maybe they’re teaming up so nobody wins?”

Penny shook her head as she wiped down the bar. “Well, whatever it is, it’s a nice change. She looks a lot happier. They both do. Who knows, maybe next we’ll be holding a wedding here.”

“Not their wedding?” Rooster seemed shocked. “Penny, they were about three insults away from killing each other three weeks ago.”

“Love is blind, as they say.”

For the rest of the night, people watched you and Jake sat together. Seresin and Y/l/n. Hangman and Sweetheart. 

And then they watched as you walked home. 

Together. 

It was safe to say everyone was shocked to their core. For the first time ever, there had been a night where both you and Jake had not only been in the bar at the same time but had also sat together for the whole night, and not once killed each other. 

Verbally or otherwise. 

“You know, you’re not as big of a dick as I thought you were Seresin. Tonight was a nice change.”

“I have been known to be kind once in a while.”

“Keep this up, you might be fit to see another day.”

“So might you.” Jake replied as he watched you climb the steps of your front porch. “I meant what I said, about taking a break. You deserve one, Y/n.”

You took in what he said with a small nod before adding. “You know, it’s still freaking me out, you even know my first name.”

“If it helps, the nurse had to tell me.” He said. “Guess I’ve called you by your last name so much, I forgot your first.”

“Is that why you keep saying it? So you don’t forget?”

He shrugged, a slight smirk on his face. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“You know, it is okay if you forget it once in a while.”

Jake smiled a little at that. “How could I forget the name of the woman who once dumped three shots of tabasco sauce into my drink?”

“Hey, you can’t prove that was me.”

“Hey, the bottle was in your hand.”

You unlocked your door. “I still plead not guilty.”

“Whatever you say, Sweetheart. Sure you’re okay on your own?”

You nodded. “I’ll be fine. Besides, don’t you have an early start in the morning?”

He nodded. “Even so. Call me.”

“Goodnight, Jake.”

“Night, Sweetheart.”

He waited for you to lock your doors before he got into his car and drove back home. 

The following weeks continued the same way. If anybody who was anybody saw you and Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin together, in the same room, talking. They would stop and watch. 

Never in a million years did anyone expect you and Jake to talk, never mind actually become friends. 

Each Friday, you met each other at the bar. You both have a drink. You’d both sit and talk. Maybe some of your old ways were still there with each other, but there was less “25 to life” about it and more “affection” in the words you both said. 

However, it nearly gave people an aneurysm when they thought you were both actually dating. 

Two people who were thirty seconds away from physically fighting each other every day had gone from, well, that, to…to…to dating?

It couldn’t be…could it?

And the rumours that had been spread by one of the bar regulars, after she’d spotted both of you grocery shopping together before spotting Jake’s car leave from the top of your road hours later, were only fueled when they heard about what happened at the school. 

It had been months since you fainted and you had been getting better. You felt better, you felt like you had more energy. And with Jake’s help you started to feel like a person again. A person who wasn’t wholly consumed by their work constantly, whether they were ten miles from the building or not. 

Except, one morning, you woke up and felt…off. 

Something wasn’t right. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but something didn’t feel right. Maybe your period was coming early. It has been doing that lately. Surprising you when you least expected or wanted it. 

Just a few weeks ago, it had arrived early once again. And the pain you’d felt in the days before nearly floored you. And when you hadn’t showed up at the bar like you’d agreed to with Jake, he came looking for you. That night he’d taken a quick trip to the grocery store after you told him what happened. He looked after you. Made sure you were okay. The next day, he drove you back to the store and you stocked up on supplies and snacks. 

It was also later that night when he surprised you by making dinner. 

Opening up your fridge, you took one of the healthy smoothies that Jake had left you the last time he’d come round, before packing it into your bag and heading to work. 

Your queasy feelings only got worse. And then…you felt it. 

Sticking on a documentary for your class, you took your phone and slowly made your way towards the teachers bathroom, stopping off at the next class. 

“Can you keep an eye on them for a couple of minutes?” 

Your best friend nodded. “Course’ honey.” Before asking her TA to go next door. 

“You okay?”

You tried your best to look okay, despite everything you were feeling inside. 

“Yeah. Yeah. I will be.”

As the TA headed next door, you made your way towards the bathroom, then dialled his number. 

“Hey,” Jake said as he answered. “Just about to call you. They’ve got a showing of The Wizard of Oz tonight at the theatre, if you wanted to go-”

“Jake.”

“Are you okay? What’s happened? Is everything okay? Is it your brother-”

“Every…” You swallowed thickly before carefully lowering yourself onto the floor with your back against the wall, and unlocking the door. “Everything’s okay, it’s just…”

Jake had a strong feeling he knew what was happening. “I’m on my way. Where are you?”

“School bathroom. Teacher’s.”

“Okay.” You could hear him leaving his office and getting into his car. “Is the door unlocked?”

You didn’t answer. 

“Y/n.”

“I’m here.”

Jake breathed. “Y/n, Sweetheart. Is the door unlocked to the bathroom?”

“Yes.”

“Does anyone else know you’re there?”

You explained what happened as best as you could. 

“Just, please get here soon?”

“I will, Sweetheart. I promise. I’m almost there.”

You didn’t know how long had passed but it wasn’t long before you heard your name being called out by Jake. 

Pulling the door open a little from the floor, Jake ran towards it and peeked inside. There you were, sat with your knees close to your chest, against the wall. 

He stepped inside before crouching down. 

“I-I’m sorry I called. I just-”

Checking you over, Jake cupped your face. “Hey, no. No. I’m glad you called me. You can always call me. How are you feeling?”

“Dizzy. It’s better now but still like the room is spinning. And I’m not harnessed in.”

“Okay. Do you think you can stand?”

You gave a small nod. “Maybe.”

Helping you up, Jake took your hands in his and you stood up. 

“Come on, we’re getting you checked out at the ER.”

You would have fought him on it but considering the last time it happened they kept you in overnight, you went willingly. 

Thankfully, you didn’t pass out even when the dizziness and the nausea felt like they were getting worse. 

By the time the doctor saw you, she did all of the routine checks before turning and looking at Jake and back to you. 

“Is there a possibility you could be pregnant? I’ve seen a lot of couples come in here with similar symptoms and-”

Oh shit. 

“Oh, no. I-I’m not. And he’s not-”

“We’re- We’re not together.”

A few more awkward moments like that filled the next couple of hours until both yourself and Jake seemed to give up on correcting people. 

By the time they discharged you, they told you your blood sugar levels had dropped and your hormones were beginning to change with your cycle. Along with the advice to try and reduce stress. 

Driving you home that night, Jake made a detour. Towards the diner and then towards the beach along The Hard Deck. 

It was quiet for a Tuesday evening, but yourself and Jake just sat and ate dinner whilst watching the water push in and pull out constantly across the sand until eventually, laying your head on his shoulder, he placed his arm around your own. 

“Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me.”

“Thank you for calling me. Are you feeling any better?”

You nodded, gratefully. “Just a little tired, that's all.”

“I’ll drop you off at home, soon, if you’d like.”

You nodded then looked at him. And before you could stop yourself, you asked him; “Would you stay with me? Tonight? If you can’t- or if you don’t want to-”

“I’ll stay.”

“A-are you…sure?”

Jake nodded, a faint smile on his lips. “I’ll stay with you.”

You didn’t know what else to say other than thank you, so pressing a light kiss to his cheek, you said as much. “Thank you.”

You could have sworn you saw him blush as he smiled and looked down. “Anytime.”

It was odd really, laying beside the man you thought you’d be telling your kids about when you were older. About how much you hated him and how much he hated you, and why neither of you could sit next to each other at the Thanksgiving table every year. 

Jake had decided to stay in your guest bedroom, but the minute you heard him lay down in his bed, you felt…awake. Not wide awake. You were still tired. But you weren’t settled. Something inside of you wanted to be closer to him. 

So, after an hour of laying on your back, staring at your ceiling and listening to the distant shore line, with the odd rumble of a car’s engine running up and down the road every now and again, you got up. 

Jake had left his door open. If you shouted for him, or needed him, he would be able to hear you. Usually, he’d be out like a light, waking up at the smallest of noises. But this time, he couldn’t sleep. 

Instead, his mind was going over the fact you had called him when you were at work. And the fact that he enjoyed it when you were with him. That he was the one you chose to lean on. And the fact that he wished he was down the hall with you at that moment, then lay alone in the dark in your guest bedroom. 

Then he heard you. 

From the dim, moonlit hallway, he saw you. 

“Hey, everything-”

“Can I stay with you?”

Already half way up, Jake paused for a second. Then nodded. “‘Course. Come ‘ere.”

Walking over, Jake pulled the covers back and you climbed under them before feeling his arm wrap around you. And your arms came around him, one over his shoulder and round his neck, the other by his side. 

Instinctively, he pulled one of your legs across him and held it there whilst his other arm remained securely around your back, holding you to him. 

“Is this okay?”

He felt you nod and he nervously swallowed. 

“Are you okay, Sweetheart?”

In a quiet voice, your breath against his neck, you answered. “Better now.”

Pressing a kiss to your head, you nuzzled into each other. 

“Good.”

Not too long after that, you both fell asleep. 

And when you both woke up, neither of you wanted to move. 

If this had somehow happened six months ago, you probably would have thrown each other to the other side of the room. But it wasn’t six months ago. And you’d come to know Jake as…Jake. Who took care of his friends, and made sure everyone was okay and was kind and caring and…a lot of other things you didn’t want to think about at six o’clock in the morning. 

And the way he was looking at you at that moment made you think about other things that you didn’t want to think about. 

“What are you thinking about?” Jake asked after a few moments of watching you study him. 

“That you need to stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you…like me.”

Jake smiled. “I do like you, Sweetheart.”

“Jake.”

Then, for a moment, everything felt…serious. His tired smile dropped a little from his lips as he looked at you. 

“Do you trust me?”

You felt your heartbeat pick up in your chest and for a moment, you wondered if he could hear it. 

“Yes.”

Tucking your hair behind your ear, you felt him cup your cheek. “Y/n…”

He seemed nervous. 

“Can I kiss you?”

If you had let yourself think about it long enough, you never would have guessed Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, who went after whatever, and usually whoever he wanted, would ask if he could kiss. You’d always assumed that he was so confident in life and with women that he’d know. That he’d see the small signals. Or even the loud ones. And just…kiss a girl. 

But no. 

He asked. 

And something in your gut jumped. 

So you answered; “Yes.”

Nervously, he licked his lips before he leaned in. And kissing him felt…weird. Because it felt…normal. Unlike anything else you’d felt in your life. 

You managed to pull him closer, until he was leaning above you. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.”

From there, the softer, searching kisses slowly faded away and turned into something more. More wanting, more needing. Feeling his hands move down your body before he gripped your hips, and pulled you closer to him and carefully slid them back up until the fabric of your t-shirt began to bunch together. 

Feeling him press into your thigh, you let out a small noise that was only swallowed by his kiss. Swiftly, he pulled you across him, your legs straddling his lap before he sat up. Once more, he pushed the hair from your face and took you in, in the rising daylight. 

No words were spoken out loud, but everything was said. 

Leaning down, you kissed him again before letting your own hands move down his chest and towards the hem of his t-shirt. Except, just as he pulled you closer by your waist, his hips rocking into you, you both jolted at the sound of his alarm. 

“Sorry.” Jake quickly turned and switched it off. You were both going to be late for work. 

“If we don’t get ready now, we’re gonna be late.”

Looking at him, you didn’t know fully what to say. It had just been the hottest make out session of your life, with a guy six months ago people would have bet money on you killing. And you’d both been cock-blocked by his alarm. 

“I’ll meet you here, after work?”

That made you smile. “Okay.”

Then he did, too. “Okay.” Before throwing his phone to the side and pulling you down to kiss him. But as you pulled away, he groaned, trying to pull you back to continue but you walked a good three feet away from the bed. 

“Can’t be late, Hangman. You’ve got pilots to teach.”

With a coy smile, he was standing in front of you within seconds before lifting you onto the dresser behind you. This time, it was you trying to pull him back when he stopped kissing you. But he just stood back and let out a small chuckle. 

“We’ve both got students to teach, Sweetheart. We stay here any longer, they’re both gonna miss us.”

One final kiss to your lips, he stood back and practically ran away before you could grab hold of him. 

Twenty minutes later, he was showered and dressed for the day and had poured you a coffee to-go as well as packed you another smoothie and grabbed your lunch for you before you’d come downstairs, dressed and began loading the last of the exam papers into your bags. 

He dropped you back off at work, however, when you realised he was waiting in the parking lot for you to enter, you left your bags by the pillar and walked back. With his window already being down, you leaned in and kissed him, feeling his hand cup the back of your head. 

“See you tonight?”

“See you tonight.”

The day for either of you couldn’t have felt longer. And by the time Jake came walking through your back door, dropping his bag onto one of the pantry hooks, he couldn’t have been more relieved to see you. 

And for a moment, he just watched you as you sat on the sofa with crossed legs, flipping through a textbook and making notes. Softly, he approached you from behind before wrapping his arms around your shoulders. 

You smiled. 

“Hey, Sweetheart.”

“You’re back.”

You felt him relax against you. “Finally.”

“There’s some food. I made you a plate in the oven.”

He pressed a kiss to your head before walking towards the kitchen. “I would have cooked.”

“I know, but I needed the distraction.”

Waltzing back inside holding onto the warm plate, he smirked as he popped a fork-full of veg into his mouth. You could already feel your cheeks heating and from the look on his face, he could see it clear as day. 

“Distraction from what?”

“Nothing in particular.”

“Nothing, huh?”

At some point, he put down his plate and rounded back to the sofa, standing behind you before pressing soft kisses into the side of your neck. 

“Jake.”

The way you said his name went straight to his dick. 

As he moved your hair, you leaned to grant him more access. A satisfied smirk came to his lips as he watched your legs move to straighten out. 

“I’ve been thinking about you all day, Sweetheart.”

Eventually, you felt Jake move away but he appeared again, lowering himself in front of you. Taking the textbooks and notes from you and placing them on the coffee table behind him, he leaned forward and pulled you in to kiss him. 

“Have you been thinking about me?”

Feeling his hand move up your thigh and towards your shorts, you leaned in closer. “Have you, Sweetheart?”

“Yes,” your voice came out breathy. 

“Is this okay?”

You nodded. 

“I need words, darlin’.”

“Yes. Yes, it’s okay.”

As time passed, the small part of you that was still able to function started to ask questions. Like why you had hated him so much in the first place? And how you almost missed…him. 

And by the time you woke up in the morning, Jake practically wrapped around you like a boa constrictor, you had come to a new conclusion. 

You didn’t hate him anymore. 

You hadn’t hated him for a long time. 

All opinions you had of him, especially after a night of mindblowing sex, had been shot out of the water. 

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin was no longer the man you thought he was. The man you had come to know and lo- 

The man you had come to know was a man that showed up. And stayed. He was someone that took care of the people he cared about. He was someone that would fix things in your home without you asking. He was someone that cooked meals, even if it was almost one o’clock in the morning and you were craving a grilled cheese. He was someone that, even after sex, took care of you in a way nobody had ever even thought about doing before. He was someone that you could trust and respect, and did so. 

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin was a man that had proved your theories wrong and he was a man that you realised you were falling for. 

And in some ways, that scared you. And in some ways, it didn’t. 

Because, for as much as he could be so sure of himself. So bold. So confident, it bordered on cocky. You were also sure of him. Sure that, if he was feeling the same things you felt, that he wouldn’t let you hurt yourself when you fell, but rather he’d catch you. 

And it, surprisingly, didn’t take him very long. 

By the time you woke up in the morning and headed downstairs, freshly dressed in a worn Top Gun hoodie and a pair of sleep shorts, you started making breakfast. However, as you stood at the stove, flipping the bacon, you felt a newly familiar pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind. 

Dropping his chin to your shoulder, Jake pulled you close to his chest. 

“Good morning.”

“Morning’.” He drawled. “Whatcha’ cookin’?”

“Bacon and eggs. There’s also toast in the toaster.”

With a smile, Jake pressed a kiss to your exposed collar which caused you to let out a small giggle before quickly turning the stove off. 

“You’ve gotta be careful, Hangman. You’ll make me burn breakfast.”

He hummed a response. “I had a couple other meals in mind.”

“Oh really? Like what?”

With his hands on your hips and his lips on your neck where you suspected he’d just left another hickey, he slowly turned you around. “I can think of one.”

Finally facing him, he kissed you as you fumbled with the last temperature gauge and turned it off. Picking you up, he carried you away from the counter near the stove to the one complete opposite. 

“You’re driving me insane dressed like this.” He mumbled against your kiss. “Wearing my shirt.”

“Your shirt?” You asked as his lips moved to your neck. 

Looking at you for a moment, half drunk on your kiss, he nodded. “Didn’t you know, Sweetheart? This here is mine.” Pinching some of the fabric between his fingers he shook it as he told you so. 

You laughed. “No it’s not.”

He nodded. “God's honest truth. Your brother stayed at mine one night after he’d gone out drinking. Lost his shirt, don’t ask me how. Stole one of my hoodies. Never got it back.”

“How do you know this is yours?”

With a smile, Jake showed you the small hole that you’d made a little bigger over the years from when you’d get nervous. “This right here. Loose thread got caught in a cabinet I was fixing in my room. Pulled at it too hard. And…”

Jake watched as your expression changed a little, hungry for more of his touches, as he pushed his hand slowly up the inside of your- his hoodie. 

A slight smirk, he pulled at the side tag and showed you. And it baffled you how you’d never noticed before. 

J.H.S

“See. But, I have to say, Sweetheart. It looks better on you than it ever did me.”

And as he was looking at you, he asked you something else. “Let me take you out on a date. A real one. You know, seeing you like this…I never want to see anyone else like this but you.”

“Jake…”

“I’m being serious. Sweetheart, I want you. And not just temporarily.” Then he looked away as he said the next part. “I’d get it…if you didn’t want that. God knows you and I don’t have the best history when it comes to even getting along but-”

“I want to date you.”

He looked up at you. 

“I want to date you,” you repeated. “Believe me, half of the time I don’t get it myself. How we’ve gone from one extreme to the other, but I know…I know I want you around.”

“I want you around, too.”

“So, yes.”

Jake smiled. “Yes?”

You smiled back. “Yes. Take me out on a date, Jake Seresin.”

Leaning forwards, he kissed you. And before long, your hands started to feel for the hem of his shirt before pulling it over his head. 

It was safe to say, when you and Jake walked into The Hard Deck in the evening after your official first date, hand in hand before he pressed a kiss to your lips, a lot of people were shocked. 

And lost a lot of money. 

But Penny won it all. 

She knew the minute Jake saw you, and your brother scolded him, that something would happen. After all, Hangman was known for going after what he wanted. She just never expected to have to be the one to force you to be in the same room and for that room to be a hospital.

[lewmagoo]

i will wait right here | b. bradshaw

description: in which four pilots find themselves in a hospital waiting room (requested)

warnings: angst, brief allusion to sex (no smut), illness (there’s a brief scene with vomiting lol), mentions of death, hurt/comfort

pairing/characters: bradley “rooster” bradshaw x nondescript f!reader, natasha “phoenix” trace, robert “bob” floyd, jake “hangman” seresin

notes: this is pretty self indulgent. also i might be projecting a bit here. y’know, with the constant need to be independent and put others needs before my own, even if it kills me. just eldest daughter things 🤪

Rooster had always said she was far too determined to be independent. 

It came from her deep, incessant need to prove to others, and herself, that she could take care of herself, and didn’t need anyone to fuss over her. 

“I’m fine,” she’d insist, “you don’t have to worry about me.”

Except, Bradley did worry about her. All the time, in fact. The fact that he was a mother hen was a running joke in their group of friends. But he was especially a mother hen toward her. When she assured everyone that she was okay, he could see right through it. He knew her well enough to know when she was not okay. And he was pretty good about helping her when she needed it. 

But in turn, she was good at evading his help. She didn’t want to be a burden. Although Bradley insisted that she wasn’t, there was part of her that always doubted that. She’d spent her entire life proving she didn’t need anyone to lean on. 

But one day, that stubborn determination of hers would cost her. 

It had all started with a migraine. 

She woke up to the splitting headache, and groaned in protest at the sunlight streaming in through the blinds. Bradley was beside her, one brawny arm slung over her waist. He felt her tense, and he shifted, lifting his head from the pillows. 

If she hadn’t been in so much pain she would have marveled in adoration at his sleep rumpled hair and the imprint of the sheets creased on his cheek. 

“Mm, mornin’, baby. You alright?” 

“Fine,” she mumbled. “Just have a headache.” 

Bradley buried his face against her shoulder, pressing a kiss there. His mustache prickled at her skin. “‘s probably about time to get up, hm?” 

“Probably.” She closed her eyes, trying to hide from the light. 

Finally, the man beside her sat upright, stretching out his torso, followed by a few pops of readjusting joints. “I’ll get the coffee going. Maybe it’ll help your headache.” He left another kiss, this time to her temple, before he slipped away, leaving her in the silence of her bedroom. 

Again, if her head wasn’t threatening to explode on her, she might have admired the view of his peachy ass as he bent to tug on his boxers. Instead, her eyes remained half closed, and all she saw was his retreating shadow as he made his way out to the kitchen. 

With a deep sigh, she attempted to sit up, but as she did so, an unbearable rush of pain flooded her head. She let out a hiss, reaching up to gently hold her head in her hands, lessening the throb as she slowly sat up the rest of the way. 

“Fuck, I don’t remember drinking that much last night.” In fact, she’d hardly been drunk at all. She and Rooster had shared a beer the night before, and had promptly after fallen into the sheets together. Her head certainly hadn’t been hurting then. All she remembered was all-encompassing pleasure. 

So sometime between their evening escapades and now, a migraine had sunk its sharp claws into her skull, and wouldn’t let go. 

She fumbled to open her nightstand drawer, retrieving a bottle of headache medication she kept there. Using the glass of water that was a permanent fixture on the nightstand, she swigged the pills back and hoped for the best. 

After taking a moment to physically prepare herself to get up for the day, her feet hit the floor. Mechanically, she pulled on the nearest article of clothing, which happened to be Bradley’s well-worn Navy t-shirt. 

Then she made her way out to the kitchen. The light was brighter in there, and she squinted in discomfort. As she took a seat at the table, a mug full of fresh coffee was placed in front of her. She didn’t have to question how it was made. Bradley knew exactly how she liked it. 

“I’ll be pretty busy these next few days,” he mused as she took a sip of the coffee. “Got those intense training exercises I told you about. I probably won’t be able to come home as often, at least not until the weekend.”

“Hope it goes well,” she managed, letting her eyes fall shut. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” His husky voice brought her back to the present, and when she opened her eyes, she found his warm ones staring back at her, flooded with concern. 

Despite herself, she gave him a small smile. “Yeah, don’t worry about me.”

“I always do,” came his response. He kissed the top of her head. 

He soon excused himself to get ready for the day, while she sat at the table and gently massaged her temples. She was thankful she didn’t have Bradley’s job, which required him to be at work bright and early. Instead, she worked at the Hard Deck, and her shift didn’t start until later that afternoon. She hoped her headache would settle down by that point. 

By the time she rose from the table to deposit her empty coffee cup into the sink, Bradley was already dressed and ready to head out the door. He kissed her cheek as he walked by, stopping at the entryway to lace up his boots. 

“Bye, baby. I’ll call you later if I have time. Love, love.”

Then he was gone before she could register what had taken place. She sighed into the quietness of her home. Normally, she would’ve been a more active participant in bidding him farewell. Especially if she wasn’t going to see him for a few days. But she simply didn’t have the wherewithal to do so. 

Instead of fretting over her less than enthusiastic goodbye, she headed right back to bed, hoping she would wake up and find her headache gone. 

She did wake up many hours later. However, her headache was still raging behind her eyes, like churning storm clouds. Not to mention, the bedroom was considerably darker than it had been when she went to sleep. 

“Oh, shit,” she cursed. She sat up quickly, regretting it immediately when her head began to pound and spots appeared in front of her eyes. She took a moment to pull herself together before she reached for her phone. To her horror, she found that it was 2100 hours. She’d slept until 9 pm. That meant that she was four hours late to her shift at the Hard Deck. 

Her phone screen displayed a few missed calls from Penny, and a few from another bartender, Samantha. She let out a frustrated moan, lowering her head to her hands. She couldn’t believe that she’d managed to sleep late enough to miss a whole shift of work. 

She felt awful, and she was quick to type an apology to Penny. 

Hey Pen. I am sooooo sorry I stood you up like that. I’m not feeling well and I laid down for a bit, but ended up sleeping way too late. I woke up just a few minutes ago. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.

She hit send and hoped for the best. Penny was understanding, so she wasn’t worried about the possibility of losing her job. But she still felt terrible about it, and vowed to make things right. 

However, the excruciating pain still piercing through her skull soon took precedence over her guilt, and she whimpered, lowering herself back down against the bed. 

She’d had headaches and migraines before, but they were few and far between, and none of them had ever been as bad as this. It was a constant, thrumming ache that distracted her from all coherent thought. 

She was surprised when tears sprang to her eyes. It pushed her to reach back into her nightstand and take another dose of pills. She hoped and prayed that this time, they would work, and she’d be able to go about her normal, day to day life soon. 

As she curled back under the covers and placed a pillow over her head, she found herself wishing that Bradley was there to hold her and possibly help soothe the pain. She imagined his big, warm hands gently cradling her head, keeping the pounding at bay. 

She was tempted to call him, but she wasn’t sure if he’d answer. When he was in training mode, he had a tendency to be pretty reclusive. Instead of coming back to her apartment, he’d stay at his place on base, because it was closer, and gave him the opportunity to come straight home and collapse into bed at night right away. 

But tonight was one of those nights where she longed for him. He always knew what to do to make her feel better. Now she was all alone and in utter misery. But, she’d always pushed through everything life threw at her, and this was no different. She’d simply have to bite the bullet and get through it. She had never needed anyone before. She didn’t figure she needed them now. But oh, how wrong she was. 

She drifted back to sleep that night, the pain lulling her into a fitful slumber. When she woke the next morning, the room was still too bright for her sensitive eyes, and her head seemed to ache even more so, if at all possible. 

It took her quite a few moments to work up the nerve to rise from the bed. Yet again, she held her head in her hands, and had to pause for a moment as the room began to spin around her. It should have been her first clue that something was horribly wrong, but she was stubborn, and was sure that this would pass soon. 

Another dose of Excedrin was downed, and she forced herself out of bed. However, on her way down the hallway, she grew dizzy, and the unsteadying pain sent her careening into the bathroom, crashing to her knees just in time to vomit into the toilet. 

She hadn’t eaten in over 24 hours, she realized, so there was hardly anything to expel. Finally, with her whole body trembling, she calmed down. She managed to reach a hand up to the sink to hoist herself from the floor, and when she looked in the mirror, she realized just how sickly she appeared. 

There was no way she’d be able to go to work like this. So, she regretfully called Penny. 

The first words out of the woman’s mouth were, “are you okay?”

“Hi. Yeah, I’ll be alright. I’m so sorry about last night. When I woke up I couldn’t believe I’d slept that late.”

“I understand, it happens. Will you be able to work tonight?” 

“I don’t think so. I’m sure I’ll feel better by tomorrow.”

“Well if you aren’t feeling well tomorrow, don’t feel like you need to come in. You should rest up,” Penny warned. 

“It’s Friday. I don’t want to leave you high and dry on such a busy night.”

“You won’t be a help to me if you’re sick, hon. So please, get some rest and only come in if you’re feeling up to it.”

“Okay, okay. I will. Thanks Penny.”

“Of course. Take care of yourself.”

When the call ended, she let out a weary sigh, leaning her weight on the sink. That two minute phone call had zapped her of any energy she might’ve had left. Her head throbbed in protest, and she let out a whimper as she squeezed her eyes shut. 

Her phone vibrated in her hand and she looked down to find that it was a text from Bradley. 

Sorry I haven’t been able to call you. Might be able to talk tonight, if you want. Love, love.

She didn’t have the energy to respond. Instead, she dragged herself back out into the hall and toward the kitchen. She could only muster the strength to unpeel a banana and eat it. Anything else proved to be too difficult of a task. 

The rest of the day carried on that way. She was lethargic and miserable. Medication did nothing to soothe her poor, aching skull. She was left to sprawl out on the couch and keep her head nestled against a throw pillow. 

She dozed off throughout the day. Bradley texted her again later that afternoon. She didn’t hear the phone vibrate. Sometime in the late evening, she became aware of the fact that her body was warm all over. Somehow, she managed to stumble to the bathroom and rifle through the medicine cabinet over the sink for a thermometer. 

When she pulled the device out of her mouth, it read 102°F. “Fuck,” she sighed. Concern grew in the pit of her stomach. She wasn’t sure what to make of a crushing headache paired with a fever. She had no other familiar symptoms like a congestion or a sore throat. This was entirely foreign to her. In hindsight, she would realize that not going to the hospital right away was the most foolish mistake she could ever make. 

Lucky for her, a certain knight in shining armor of sorts would be coming to her rescue. 

Before turning in for the night, she popped a few ibuprofen to bring the fever down, and headed straight to bed again. She left her phone on the living room coffee table, where it remained the rest of the night, going unanswered when Bradley tried to call her. 

When she didn’t answer, he grew concerned. It wasn’t like her to forego a nighttime phone call from him. That, paired with the unanswered texts he’d sent her earlier, gave way to an odd sort of nagging in the back of his brain, like something was wrong. 

The next morning, just before heading out for the last day of training before the weekend, he tried calling her again. It went straight to voicemail without even ringing. He pulled the phone from his ear and stared at it, brow furrowed in obvious worry. 

“Everything okay?” It was Phoenix’s voice. She was good at reading Rooster’s tells. He looked tense with worry, which compelled her to ask what was going on. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “My girl isn’t answering my calls. She normally always answers.”

Phoenix offered a reassuring smile. “Maybe she’s still asleep?” She suggested. 

“Maybe, but she didn’t answer last night either. Phe, I’ve just got this weird feeling that something’s wrong.” 

Her face softened, and she stepped closer. “Maybe you can—” but before she could finish her sentence, she was interrupted by an abrupt, “Admiral on deck!” Prompting everyone to stand at attention, conversations forgotten. 

Back at home, a very delirious, fever-ridden girl was just stumbling out of bed. When her feet touched the floor, it felt like her limbs were made of lead. She moaned in discomfort, and barely made it upright before she had to grip the bed post and steady herself. 

She was able to make it to the bathroom, but when she got there, her sickness-addled brain forgot why she’d even stepped into the room in the first place. But the tile was cool under her feet, and she decided it would be a good place to cool down. So, she lowered herself to the floor and sprawled across the cold tile. That’s where she would remain the rest of the day, fading in and out of consciousness.

Bradley tried to remain stoic as he went about his job, but he was teeming with anxiety. Something was wrong, he was sure of it. And because of this, he wasn’t on his A-game during training. It prompted a few smartalec comments from Hangman, who was surprised when Rooster didn’t reciprocate any sharp verbal jabs. 

By the time evening rolled around, even he was slightly worried, because it wasn’t like Bradley to be so distant. As they all walked out together that evening, Hangman fell into step beside Phoenix. 

“What’s with Bradshaw today?” He asked, voice low. 

“Something’s wrong with Bradshaw?” An eavesdropping Coyote piped up from just behind the pair. 

“Shh! Not too loud,” Hangman insisted, waving his hand in a be quiet motion. 

Natasha glanced at him through her peripheral before quickly explaining why Bradley was acting so off. 

“Shit, really?” Then he looked up, catching sight of the other pilot up ahead before he jogged over to him. “Everything alright, Bradshaw?”

He raised a brow. “Why do you ask?”

“Phoenix said something might be going on with your girl. Do you want me to go with you to check on her?” He was genuinely offering. Bradley’s comrades had all come to love his sweet girlfriend, so much so that they were very protective of her, and would do all they could to prevent any harm from coming to her. 

Bradley hesitated. “I’m gonna head over to the Hard Deck first. Find out if Penny’s seen her.”

And that’s how Penny Benjamin came face to face with a group of very concerned pilots, huddling around her bar with expectant looks on their faces. 

“What’s going on?” She asked. 

Bradley stepped forward, and realization dawned across Penny’s features when he asked if she’d seen his girlfriend. “She’s been sick the last few days. I tried calling her today and there was no answer. You should probably go—” but before she could finish her sentence, the sandy haired aviator was already turning on his heel and rushing out of the bar. 

“Roos! We’re coming with you!” Phoenix called, hot on his heels. 

“You don’t need to—” but when he turned around to protest, he found his friends staring back at him. Bob, Phoenix, and Hangman had decided that out of the whole group, they were going to be his wingmen, so to speak, as he went to find out what was going on. He realized that telling them no was a lost cause, so he sighed, relenting. 

They all squeezed into Bradley’s Bronco, and soon, a gaggle of pilots was leaving base to go check on their comrade’s girlfriend. Maybe they were all overreacting, but they were concerned, and just wanted to help out. 

“When was the last time you talked to her?” Bob spoke up from the backseat, question directed at Bradley. 

“Uh…the day I left for training. I usually don’t have time to call her the first day or two so we didn’t talk for a couple days.”

“Penny said she called in sick, right? I’ve never known that girl to miss a day of work, like, ever,” Hangman, who was sitting shotgun, mused. 

“Was there anything out of the ordinary when you left?” It was Natasha’s turn to ask a question. 

“I don’t think so. We woke up, and then…” He trailed off for a moment as he realized one very important detail. “Oh, shit. She said she had a headache. I noticed she was acting kind of off but she insisted she was fine.” He sighed in frustration, shaking his head. “Fuck, what if it was something life threatening?”

Phoenix’s eyes widened. “Hey, let’s not jump

to conclusions yet. We’ll see what’s wrong when we get there.”

They arrived in no time, thanks to Bradley going over the speed limit. As soon as they reached the apartment complex, they were all rushing inside. Her apartment was situated on the sixth floor. The elevator ride up was the longest few minutes of the four aviators lives, it felt like. 

When the doors slid open, Bradley was the first one out, already reaching into his pocket to retrieve the apartment key. He realized his hands were shaking as he tried to insert the metal into the lock. His chest was tight with anxiety, an awful sense of dread weighing heavily on his shoulders. 

He imagined the worst, picturing the love of his life dead, helpless and alone. It sent a jolt of panic through him, and it was as if he couldn’t get the door open fast enough. He prayed to whoever was listening that he hadn’t lost the most important thing in his life. 

Once he got the door open, the four of them stumbled through. The apartment was dark, and it sent alarm bells off in Bradley’s mind. He called out her name, but his voice sounded foreign to his own ears. 

The other three set about searching the apartment, calling her name. Bradley’s feet were heavy as he followed after them. Jake stepped into the bedroom and flipped on the light. They were all met with the sight of an empty bed. 

Bradley knew there was only one other place to look. Fear bloomed to life in his chest, and his hands trembled as he turned, stepping down the hallway and pausing outside the closed bathroom door. He grabbed the knob, only to find that the door was stuck. The creaky old door had a tendency to latch itself at the worst times. It was something Bradley had been meaning to fix, but had never gotten around to it. 

Before bursting into the bathroom like a madman and risking embarrassing her, he knocked first. “Baby? Are you in there?” He called. He was met with silence. 

“Is it locked?” Phoenix asked. 

“It’s stuck. Sometimes we gotta use force.” Then, he looked back, motioning for the trio to step aside as he stepped backwards to gain some momentum. 

He threw his weight against the door. It groaned, almost as if in protest. Again, a broad shoulder was slammed into the wood, and this time, a splintering sound could be heard. One more display of force, and it flew open, fast enough that it slammed against the bathroom wall inside. 

He reached for the light switch, and when he flipped it on, he was met with a sight that sent his blood running cold. “Oh my god.”

He rushed into the bathroom, falling to his knees beside the prone form of his girlfriend. He was almost hesitant to touch her, for fear of finding her skin cold as ice. 

In fact, Bradley froze. He knew he needed to be springing into action, needed to check her pulse, make sure she was alive. But his hands felt heavy as iron, and he couldn’t move. 

The one who finally acted was Bob. He was quick to kneel beside Rooster, reaching out to gently turn the girl and press his fingers to her pulse point. His eyes widened when he realized how warm she was. 

“She’s alive,” he assured the man beside him, “but she’s burning up. We need to get her to the hospital right away.”

The word hospital snapped him to attention. He met Bob’s worried gaze, and nodded. “We can take her there ourselves, it’ll be faster.” Bradley leaned over her body, carefully lifting her into his arms. He almost shied away at just how warm her body was. She was consumed with fever. 

“I’ve got you, baby,” he whispered as he rose to his feet. Then he looked up to find the grim faces of Jake and Natasha. All Bradley had to do was nod and they were all heading back out of the apartment. 

In no time, they were back outside. “I’ll drive,” Jake offered. “Keys, Bradshaw.” He held his hand out. 

“Not a chance,” Phoenix cut in, stepping forward to reach into Rooster’s left pocket, where she’d seen him shove the keys into earlier. 

Under normal circumstances, Hangman would’ve argued, but not now. It didn’t matter who drove, as long as they got to the hospital. He simply rolled his eyes and instead opted to open the back door so Rooster could climb inside. 

The moment everyone was settled, Phoenix was heading off toward the hospital. The interior was somber and quiet, each pilot sick with worry over the girl Rooster held in his arms. 

He cradled her close, reaching up a hand to brush her hair out of her face. “Can you hear me, sweetheart?” He whispered. He hoped she could. “Just hang on, alright? We’re gonna get you some help.” And then, more quietly, “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.” It would be something he’d beat himself up over for a long time. 

“You couldn’t have known,” Bob softly spoke up from beside him. 

“I knew something was wrong when she didn’t respond to my texts or calls. I should’ve taken that as a sign to go check on her.”

The bespectacled lieutenant shook his head, and there was nothing but kindness in his face. “You can’t play the blame game, Rooster. It’ll drive you mad.”

He was right, after all. But that didn’t stop Bradley from silently beating himself over the fact that he hadn’t been there when the love of his life needed him most. He imagined her all alone, unable to call for help, and it gutted him. I should’ve been there. I should’ve found a way. 

When the Bronco finally came to a stop outside the emergency room, all of them got out. The poor receptionist running the desk looked up to find four frantic pilots staring back at her. One of them held a girl in his arms and he looked about ready to fall to his knees.

“P-please, she needs help,” he croaked. 

A flurry of activity took place around the group. Someone reached out to take his entire world from his arms. He almost didn’t want to let her go, and subconsciously, his grip tightened on her. But he was surprised when Jake’s hand landed against his chest, his voice in Bradley’s ear, saying, “let ‘em take her. They’ll take good care of her.” And he finally let her go.

As she was wheeled away, the group watched helplessly. It might’ve looked humorous to a random passerby. Four of the Navy’s best aviators, rendered to nothing more than a concerned, anxiety ridden mess. 

They were told to retire to the waiting room, and that a doctor would be out eventually to inform them of what was going on. 

That’s where they found themselves. Hangman was sitting on the window sill, staring out into the dark parking lot. Rooster was pacing back and forth, enough to wear a hole in the linoleum. Phoenix sat sideways in one of the chairs, her legs slung over the uncomfortable wooden arm. Bob sat on the other side of her, face sullen as he stared down at his feet. 

Bradley felt like he was going insane from not knowing. He kept raking his fingers through his hair, hard enough that it hurt, but he didn’t care. His chest was tight with fear. He just wanted answers. 

He didn’t know what he’d do if he lost her. The thought was unimaginable. Had he really come this far, and finally let someone in after years of living as a lone wolf, only to lose her in the end? The thought alone almost drove him to his knees. 

Bob, ever the empath, looked up to find Bradley distraught, and his heart ached. He stood, moving to step in front of the other man. Bradley looked back at him, and finally, he broke. He leaned forward, and Bob pulled him into a hug, allowing him to cry silently against his shoulder. 

Then, he was joined by Natasha, who wrapped her arms around both men. From the window sill, Jake gazed at the teary-eyed trio, and he let out a dramatic sigh as he rose to his feet and joined in on the group hug in the middle of the hospital waiting room. 

“Group hugging you three idiots is not how I imagined spending my Friday night, yet here we are,” he piped up, totally ruining the emotional moment, but pulling a laugh from each of them. Even Bradley, who smiled despite himself. 

“Leave it to you to ruin a good moment, Bagman,” Natasha teased, shoving at his chest. 

After playfully pushing her hand away, the blonde looked at Bradley, his face now sober. “For what it’s worth, I hope she pulls through.”

The other man gave him a nod. “Thanks, Seresin.”

They all parted, and this time, Rooster was able to take a seat, settling beside Bob. He’d always been friendly with the guy, but now, in the midst of the turmoil he was experiencing, Bob was a quiet, calming force, and it was helping Bradley through this moment more than he could say. 

Again, the waiting room drifted into somber silence as they all nervously awaited information. Minutes passed by, and soon, minutes bled into an hour and a half. 

Rooster finally stood up, legs sore from sitting for so long. “Goddammit, what’s taking so long?” He huffed, hands clenched into fists at his sides. 

He was heavily considering storming up to the front desk to demand answers, but Natasha stopped him, gentle hand on his shoulder. “Hey, let me,” she quietly offered. 

He nodded, and she slipped away, making her way up to the desk to inquire about his girl’s status. The receptionist had no definitive answers, and a forlorn Phoenix made her way back to the boys, shaking her head. They all groaned in frustration.

“How about I get us all something from the vending machine?” She offered. That seemed to catch their attention, and a few minutes later, she was returning to the waiting room with an armful of snacks and bottled drinks. Everyone took what they wanted and went back to moping about, this time with food in hand. 

Finally, a doctor walked into the waiting room. She didn’t have to look very far. There was a group of very despondent pilots sitting in the middle of the room. One of them, a blonde one, perked up at the sight of the doctor, and he reached out, tapping another one, a mustached young man, on the shoulder.

Mustache popped out of his seat, whirling around. His eyes were wide, face awash with fear as the doctor approached. The others stood up as well, waiting expectantly, and forming a bit of a protective group around him.

“Which one of you is Bradley Bradshaw?”

Mustache weakly raised a hand. “I am.” His voice nearly failed him. 

The doctor stepped forward. “You did the right thing, bringing her in when you did. A few hours longer and she very well could have passed away.”

All four pilots breathed a sigh of relief at the realization that she was alive. “What’s wrong with her?” Bradley asked, dark eyes swirling with concern.

“We ran some tests and it appears that she has a rare type of bacterial infection. It caused the extremely high fever. It doesn’t pass from person to person, so none of you are at risk of contagion, if you were worried about that. We’ve been able to get her fever down partially, and we started her on antibiotics. We’ll be keeping her for a few days to monitor her symptoms and make sure she doesn’t get worse.”

“Is she awake?” 

“No sir, not yet. What she needs is a good night of rest. I’d imagine she’ll be more herself tomorrow, once the antibiotics start doing their job. She’s being sent up to a room as we speak.”

“Can we see her?” The blonde one asked. 

The doctor eyed the group warily. They were all chomping at the bit to see the sick girl, and frankly, it was adorable. However, visiting hours were long past over. Even so, she was torn. She let out a sigh, staring back at their hopeful faces. “Look, visiting hours are over. I can’t let all of you go up there. But I will make an exception for Mr. Bradshaw here, since she’s his partner. The rest of you will have to head home and come back at 0800 hours.”

The disappointment was visible on all their faces, but they were respectful, and didn’t put up an argument. Once the doctor finished up her required spiel and dismissed herself, the group of friends turned to Rooster. Another group hug was had, and they all shared in the relief that everything was going to be okay. 

“Text us as soon as she wakes up,” Natasha instructed as she handed Bradley his car keys back. “We’ll be back tomorrow morning with breakfast.”

He looked at each of his comrades, hardly able to express his thanks for their support. “Thanks for waiting with me, guys. Made me feel less alone.”

“We’ll always be there for you, whenever you need us,” Bob spoke up with a smile. 

Rooster lurched forward and pulled him into another hug. “You’re a good guy, Bobby. Thanks,” he murmured. 

“Alright, alright, cut the sap. My teeth are about to rot out of my head,” Hangman cut in. 

The two men parted, and Jake stepped over to clap Bradley on the back. “Now get outta here and go see your girl, Bradshaw.” 

“Aye, aye sir,” he replied with a mock salute. 

He watched his friends head out of the waiting room and into the night, Phoenix and Hangman already lightheartedly bickering about something. Probably how they were getting home for the night. Bob shook his head in quiet annoyance, turning back to give Rooster one last wave before they all disappeared outside. 

Finally, Bradley turned on his heel and made his way to the elevator. Now that he was alone, his mind threatened to overwhelm him. All the anxiety he’d been trying to keep at bay came rushing to the surface, and his hand trembled as he pressed the button. 

It felt like an eternity before the doors finally slid open. He stepped inside and rode up a few floors. He was able to obtain her room number from the front desk after assuring them Dr. Holt had said it was okay for him to stay. Nobody had the heart to tell him otherwise, not with that look of fear written all over his face, which made him look younger than he was. 

When he was able to step into her room, the sight he was met with knocked the wind out of him. Yes, he’d seen her half conscious on the bathroom floor hours earlier, but this was different. She was hooked up to different machines, and there was an IV in her arm. 

He was overcome with longing. Longing to take her body into his arms and protect her from all harm. Longing to make her pain and sickness go away. It was times like these when he wished he was God, just a little bit. But he was a mere man, and didn’t have the power to do the things the Almighty did.

Instead, he made his way over to her bedside, and sank down into the uncomfortable chair nearby. “Hey, sweetheart,” he whispered, reaching out to take her hand in his own. “You scared the hell out of me. I thought…I thought I was going to lose you.”

Tears blurred his vision, and he closed his eyes. swallowing them back and instead opting to say something more positive. “Everyone else was scared, too. You should’ve seen them. Even Hangman was worried, if you can believe it.”

He squeezed her hand thrice. I. Love. You. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to you sooner. I should’ve known something was up when you didn’t answer my texts. I just hate the thought of you needing help and no one being there.”

He could see it so clearly in his mind’s eye. A picture of her. Sick, delirious from fever, entirely alone. It made his heart lurch in his chest. “But, I’m here now, baby. And I’m not gonna leave your side until you open those pretty eyes of yours.”

True to his word, Bradley didn’t leave her side once through the night. He situated himself in that vinyl chair and slept in an uncomfortable position that would be sure to leave a crick in his neck, but it was worth it as long as he got to be near her. 

When light began to peek through the clouds, Bradley woke, his bleary eyes settling on the girl who still remained still beside him. 

“Morning, baby,” he hummed, reaching out to bring her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. His thumb rubbed comforting circles into her skin. 

In the wee morning hours, just before the morning nurse came in, Bradley cherished the moment of peace he had with the woman he loved. 

He held her hand and silently prayed that she would come back to him. And she did. With the dawning of a new day, she slowly opened her eyes, and in turn, Bradley’s own filled with tears. 

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he assured her, leaning in close. 

When her vision focused, she found the face of a very relieved Bradley Bradshaw staring back at her. His deep umber eyes were brimming with unshed tears, but they quickly made their way down his cheeks. 

She was quiet as she oriented herself. It was clear that she was in the hospital. But she had no recollection of how she got there. The last thing she remembered was getting out of bed and heading to the bathroom. 

“Wh-what happened?” She croaked. His hand tightened comfortingly around hers. 

“You were really sick. We found you unconscious at the apartment.”

“We?”

“Yeah, uh, me, Phoenix, Bob, and Hangman. They helped me get you to the hospital.”

She shifted a little, and realized the crushing headache that had been plaguing her the last few days was gone. “How long have I been here?”

“Since last night. They got you on some antibiotics and brought your fever down.”

She looked at him again, gazing into his kind, concerned face. “Is this the part where you play mother hen and scold me for not asking for help sooner?” There was a smile playing on her lips. 

Bradley raised his brow. “Actually, yes. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was just a headache, nothing worth bothering you over. I figured I’d take some Excedrin and feel better in a few hours. But a few hours turned into a few days, and then I was out of my mind with fever.”

The man sighed. “Well, I should’ve known something was up when you didn’t answer your phone. That’s when I should have sent Penny to check on you.”

“Hey, don’t blame yourself, sweet man. I’m okay now, you don’t need to beat yourself up.”

“I always do,” he countered. He was right about that, he had quite the tendency to get too far into his own head and berate himself for things. 

Then he sobered, eyes meeting her own. “Finding you like that…it was one of the scariest moments of my life. I froze up. It was like my body couldn’t move. I was fucking terrified.” His gaze lowered to their joined hands. “Bob was the one who kinda got the ball rolling and helped me snap out of it. That guy is something else.”

She smiled softly. “Remind me to thank him, then,” she said. 

“You should thank all three of them. They stayed with me in the waiting room the whole time. I don’t know what I would’ve done without them.”

Her heart was touched at the loyalty of their friends. “When I get out of here we can take them out as a thank you.”

Rooster mirrored her smile. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.” 

Their private moment was soon interrupted as a nurse walked into the room. He took that as a sign to excuse himself and text the three pilots who just so happened to already be waiting outside the hospital, eager to come inside and visit.

“You think she’s awake yet?” Jake questioned as they stood around Natasha’s car. 

“I don’t know, Rooster didn’t say anything yet,” she replied. 

“Guys, he just did,” Bob spoke up, holding up his phone. Both of them looked at their own phones, and sure enough, there was a text from Bradley. 

She’s awake :) we’re in room 315

The trio all exchanged looks, smiles on their faces. “One minute ‘til visiting hours start,” Bob spoke, matter-of-factly.

“Close enough. Let’s go,” Hangman said, waving for them to follow. 

They all headed inside, scrambling for the elevator, arms full of pastry bags from the base cafe. When they finally made it to her room, they found her seated upright in bed, Bradley at her bedside. She smiled at the three of them, and suddenly they were all talking at once, expressing their relief that she was okay. 

She laughed at their eagerness, and gladly accepted the hugs they all gave her, along with the pastries. The dark, heavy cloud that had hovered over everyone was finally lifted, replaced by the sunshine of their smiles. 

“You should’ve seen Prince Charming over here,” Jake spoke up, clapping a hand against Bradley’s shoulder. Prince Charming was the nickname Jake had dubbed him after he met her, his princess. “He was worried sick about you. I thought he was gonna pull his hair out by how much he kept raking his hands through it.” 

Bradley smiled sheepishly. She reached for his hand again and gave it three squeezes. I. Love. You. “Sounds like my Rooster,” she said fondly. Then she addressed them all. “Thank you guys for looking out for me. Bradley says you stayed with him the whole time.”

“It didn’t feel right to leave him alone,” said Natasha. “Plus we all wanted to stick around and find out if you were going to be okay. Can’t tell you how relieved we were when the doc said you would be.”

“Yeah. You had us scared there for a minute,” Bob piped up. His blue eyed gaze was warm. 

“When I get out of here, Roos and I are taking you all out as a thank you.” 

“We’ll go, but only if you promise one thing,” Hangman spoke. 

“What’s that?”

“That you never scare us like that again.”

She couldn’t help the smile that broke across her face. “Deal,” she agreed. 

And that’s how she spent her morning. In a hospital room, surrounded by the love of her life and her closest friends, sharing pastries, shitty coffee, and laughter. 

She knew then, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that these people were her ride-or-dies. They’d follow her and Bradley to the ends of the earth, if need be. And she couldn’t ask for better friends if she wanted to. 

She had everything she could ever need, right there in the middle of her hospital room. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

-

@halfway-happyyy @natasharomanoffisbaebby @oliviabelova @robertbobfloydlover @supernaturaldawning @marrianena @mys2425 @n3ssm0nique @ice-mans-world @lovemesomevesey @straightforwardly @mochi-de-bisou @christinafaucher @emmmaturtle @fantasias-creativebubble @worldmadeofmemories @tarohemianrocketmanapsody @m0chac0ffee @not-leaprvt @i-simp-much @soaharleys @colorfultyrantearthquake @obxsuperfan07 @juniebugg @marchingicenotes7 @airedale17 @jamiedontbeacracko @monosjoons @dilfsandtherapy @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth @unluckymonaghan

[theroosterperch]

♥️

[seresinhangmanjake]

About Time

Tyler Owens x Childhood Friend!Reader

Summary: You’ve been Tyler’s best friend since childhood, but a near-death experience makes him realize he feels much more for you than friendship and he shouldn’t have allowed himself to deny it for so long. 

Warnings/Notes: cursing, mild angst, mostly fluff, typos

Words: 2300

Masterlist

It was when he almost lost you that Tyler knew he was in love with you. When he was forced to play tug of war with the violent winds to keep you in his arms. When he felt your chest move against his with your shallow, rapid breaths. When he heard his name, a soft whimper from quivering lips. 

“T–Tyler…”

He tightened his grasp on your waist and mumbled, “I got you, darlin’. Just don't let go.”

At that moment, he didn't know if he could protect you, but the alternative was an unbearable thought. Living without you was unimaginable, unacceptable, so if the winds planned to take you, they would have no choice but to take him, too. Then at least you'd be going together. 

He’d always felt something for you, and he understood that he probably always would, but he'd been unwilling to give it a name more intense than a teenage crush that just happened to last well past its expiration date. And while your perpetually growing beauty and intoxicating laugh made it hard for him to tame what he continued to feel, he’d managed. 

But that fear of imminent death—more potent than ever—tapped into the depths of those feelings he’d been swallowing for more than a decade. The abuse of pelting rain and flying debris paled in comparison to the overwhelming storm breaking free from the neglected portion of his heart. 

Once disaster moved along, you looked up at him with wide, weary eyes, and he couldn’t think clearly past the repetitive chanting in his head: ‘I love you, I love you, I love you’. Adrenaline was rushing through his veins, overpowering every other sense of logic and reason. He pushed strands of damp hair from your face, cupped your cheeks, then leaned down and sealed his lips to yours in a deep kiss. The first kiss. A kiss that typically has a much better outcome than what followed.

He hasn't seen you since that day. A week has come and gone and not one glimpse of your face, and now he’s more desperate for the sight than he’s ever been before. Missing you when you’re not around is far from new, but having released his feelings, the all-consuming sensation is worse. It’s harder to tolerate.

You're avoiding him, he knows it, but he supposes that can happen when someone kisses their best friend with no prior discussion of deeper feelings. It's not what he would do were the situation reversed—he'd still be all over you, kissing you back, smiling, never letting you go—but you've chosen to handle things quite differently, and in doing so, has left him no choice but to respond accordingly.

—

“Mornin’,” you hear, nearly dropping the pail of milk you’d been collecting all morning. Eyes darting to your right, you find Tyler sitting in one of the living room's quilted armchairs. Your heartbeat stutters. 

When you turn your head to the left, your mother is leaning against the kitchen countertop, her fluffy robe tied around her body and a cup of steaming coffee in her hands that she brings to her lips as she reads the newspaper splayed out beside her. 

“Mom, what is Tyler doing here?”

She glances up, swallows, and swipes her tongue across her bottom lip to catch the remnants of caramel-colored liquid. “Oh gosh, dear, he must've snuck in,” she replies, feigning ignorance. “But I’m not one for kickin’ anyone—especially not a fine, young man—off my property, so I guess he’ll just have to stay.”

With a huff, you set the pail down on the breakfast table, knowing your mother will take care of it, and shoot her a glare before making your way to the living room. Tyler stares up at you. You cross your arms and nudge your head toward the storage barn just behind the house where the two of you used to hold your late-night meetings when you were children, and later, teenagers. Many nights you spent in that barn after Tyler had snuck out of his parent’s house and chucked a pebble at your window to wake you. 

Tyler nods and follows you out the back door to the large structure that protects your privacy from the prying ears of the woman inside the house. 

“We gotta get you a new phone, darlin’,” Tyler says to your back once you're enclosed in the barn. “The one you've got doesn't seem to be receiving my calls…or texts…or elaborate voicemails.”

“Tyler…” you sigh, twisting to face him.

“You know we gotta talk about it,” he says. And he’s right, despite how the complicated element introduced into your relationship is entirely his fault and so you shouldn’t have to owe him the time of day until you're ready to give it. “You didn’t have to run away from me.”

“I didn’t run.” Tyler’s eyes follow the movement of your arms wrapping tighter around yourself and he swallows hard. “I walked.”

“Speed-walked,” he counters. “Borderline jogged.”

You groan, your tense shoulders sagging. “Tyler listen, I just–”

“Do you really think disappearing on me was a fair thing to do?” he interrupts. “I’m your best friend.”

Your jaw drops at the audacity. Not surprising, really; Tyler’s always had a way of wording things that gets under people’s skin, but out of the two of you, he is the last person who should be doling out the criticism. 

“Fair?” you huff. “You’re the one who–”

“I mean, what was so wrong with it?” Long fingers slide through his blond hair. “Can you honestly say you’ve never thought about me in that way? It hasn’t crossed your mind once? No sex dreams? Nothin’? ‘Cause I’ve been wrestlin’ with it since fuckin’ high school, but ok, sure, fine.”

“Ty–”

“And I know it was unexpected but was it really that shocking? Don’t you think we’d be good together? I think we’d–”

“For fuck’s sake, Tyler, will you let me talk!” you snap, your voice carrying throughout the barn.

If you were trying to preserve your privacy, you’ve definitely failed now. Half of town probably heard you and they’re nothing short of a mile away, but at this point, Tyler has pushed you well past caring. Let them hear. Let them know what’s going on between you. They all saw him kiss you anyway.

“We nearly died,” you continue. “People around us did die.”

Tyler’s face breaks down and you instantly regret your words. You know he stuck around after you left. You know he helped everyone he could in the aftermath of disaster while you let your emotions override your system and ran home to cry to your mother over how he just rocked what was your very steady relationship.

“Look,” you sigh. “Even if I wasn’t thinking about death—and that is a massive ‘if’—I told myself a long time ago that you are my friend, just my friend.”

Tyler’s hands settle on his hips. His eyes fall to the floor and his back teeth clench. “Why?”

“Because I repeated it so many times in my head that it solidified,” you tell him, throwing your arms up. “You know why Bradley dumped me last year? And Pete a couple years before that? And Bobby back in high school?” you ask. “Because of you. They all sensed this weird…energy…from you. All of them. Do you know how many times I had to tell them they were crazy? Do you know how many times I had to tell myself that I was crazy whenever they brought it up to me and I actually considered the possibility of you feeling that way?” 

You know exactly how many. Bobby had mentioned it five times before he decided he was done; broke it off with you right before prom and scoffed when he saw that Tyler had stepped up as your date. Pete was shorter-lived; asked you about Tyler three times before he said he could see which way the wind was blowing and had no interest in getting in between anything. And Bradley held the record at seven, each time making the fight outdo the one prior before he was simply fed up with the friendship you refused to sacrifice. Three boyfriends have ditched you solely because of Tyler, and fifteen times you had to talk yourself down from the jolt of excitement you got from imagining him loving you.    

Taking a deep breath, you say, “You don’t just get to kiss me and not let me sort out my thoughts for five damn seconds.”

Tyler’s head snaps up, jaw ticking and eyes blazing. “Five seconds?” he spits. “I haven’t seen you in a week. That’s the longest we’ve gone since I graduated.”

“This isn’t just about you; how you feel; what you think; what you want.”

“Then what are you tellin’ me?” Tyler asks.

The light quiver in his voice unnerves you. Not because you aren’t used to him expressing himself to the fullest—and if he’s ever going to be vulnerable with anyone, it’s with you—but that quiver is typically the trigger for you comforting him, taking him into your arms and holding him, letting him wrap himself around you until he feels better and is ready to stop. For some reason, you never noticed how long he would stay tied to you when you gave him the chance. 

“Are you feelin’ like this is it?” he continues. “Are you wantin’ us to be done?”

And suddenly, you’re irritated again. You can’t stop the roll of your eyes. In no universe would you ever be done with Tyler Owens, and the fact that he would entertain otherwise is asinine. “Don't be dramatic.”

“Well, what do you expect!” he shouts. “You’re actin’ like I’m about to lose you!”

“I didn’t say anything like that!”

“But you're mad that I kissed you!”

“Damn it, Tyler! I am not!”       

Green eyes widen, his breaths heavy from his heaving chest. His mouth opens then closes then opens once more. “You’re—” He licks his lips as you watch him grasp for words. “Then why haven't you called me back?”

You shrug. “I don't know. We've never fought before, and I thought you'd be pissed that I walked off, which clearly you are, so…”

“That’s not true,” he says, moving to take a step closer to you before thinking better of it and staying put. “I haven’t been pissed, darlin’, just terrified. And missing you. And…wanting you.” Heat flares your cheeks, forcing you to tear your eyes away from the desperation in his. “But I’m sorry. I wasn’t tryin’ to…I mean, you left and I thought…”

You shake your head. Whatever he let himself think, he was wrong.

The silence that settles over you is thicker than you're used to in his presence. You're used to laughter and jokes, sweet comments and banter. Tension zings in the space between your bodies, but it's pleasant, electrifying, invigorating. You feel the full impact of everything that was tucked underneath the stress and anxiety of barrelling through such a hard conversation. 

Tyler feels it too. His face shows it. His eyes you can only describe as heatedly glittering as he stares at you staring at him. His brows are pinched from frustration of a different kind. It's his lips, though, that reveal his thoughts better than any other feature. They're softly parted, glistening from a swipe of his tongue like he's ready to lock them to yours at any second. Like he needs to be ready just in case you give him the go-ahead so he can kiss you before you dare rescind your permission. 

“What are you thinking?” you ask, words quieter than you meant for them to be, but Tyler hears you.  

His chuckle is short, half-formed, partially overtaken by the exhale of a breath. You detect a slight tease, as if you should already know the answer to that question. 

“That I wanna kiss you again,” he says. “So fuckin’ bad.”

The corners of your mouth struggle not to quirk upward. “Tyler.” He hums. “You know what it means if we do this, right?”

He nods. “We can’t go back,” he says. “But darlin’, I don’t wanna go back. I wanna keep on goin’...with you.”

“Everything will be different.”

“Not everything. We're still us, we'd just be kissin’ and touchin’ and, you know, doin’ other stuff,” he replies with a smile. “Hopefully.”

You picture Tyler standing before you as you have secretly wished you could have him for years—bare and muscled and grinning and telling you he loves you—and for the first time, you aren’t awash with guilt and shame. It feels right to think of him like this. Natural. There’s a soothing ocean of serenity flowing under the flames of desire, and it hits you that this was probably inevitable. All the pieces were there—friendship, trust, love—all there was left to do was act on it. 

“You won't change your mind?” you ask, stepping to him. 

At your question, distress takes over Tyler's face, but it melts into a grin once he notices your smirk. He closes the remaining distance between you and takes your hand, carefully interlocking your fingers. 

“No chance,” he tells you. 

“Ok,” you say, nodding. “Well, if you’re absolutely sure, then I guess it’s ok if you kiss me agai–”

Your chuckle is muffled against his lips. His fingers untangle from yours and he guides your hand to rest on the back of his neck so he can cup your cheek. His free arm coils around your waist, pulling you in closer, and your body melts into his. Your brain fuzzes. You lose all awareness of your surroundings. You think you might just stay like this forever.

----

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[hangmanssunnies]

The Hangman Special

Summary: On a night out with your friends at a fancy cocktail bar, you are just trying to keep your head down and ignore the girl that your ex cheated on you with. The night only seems like it's going to get worse when you are dared to kiss a stranger at the bar. However, it seems like the odds might finally be in your favor when you notice a familiar set of broad shoulders. If you can be convincing, you think you might just be able to get your brother's friend Jake "Hangman" Seresin to help you out with your little problem.

Pairings: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Word count: 7k

AO3 Link

Warnings: 18+ only, kissing, hot and heavy make-outs, exs, truth or dare, bad friends.

Author's note: Dreaming about kissing Jake in a bar. Thanks to everyone who looked at earlier drafts of this. I hope you enjoy this if you take a chance to read. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are gold to me. I love reading through them.

The bar is buzzing with the loud chatter of patrons, the clinking of glasses, and the rhythmic beat of music. You are sitting at a corner table with your friends, a group with an eclectic mix of personalities. You are known for being more on the shy and reserved side, but tonight, you are even more withdrawn than usual. No one had mentioned that Tassie had also been invited to the evening's hang out at the bar. An oversight you felt was probably intentional since everyone knew Tassie had started dating your ex only a week after your breakup. She went so far as to post a picture of them together on her Instagram. It had been a few months since that happened, and until now, you had managed to avoid running into her. However, it seemed like luck had run out.

"Hey, I've got an idea that would spice up the night," Cece says after the first round of drinks. She is one of your bold and outspoken friends, and you aren't sure you like how she is eyeing you with a mischievous glint. "Let's play truth or dare." 

The whole group groans at the suggestion, and one of your friends vaguely wonders if you're all still in middle school playing that kind of game. Despite the initial lack of enthusiasm, after another round of drinks, the group is laughing and entrenched in the game. 

When Cece sings your name when she finishes her turn, you are nervous by the sly smile she is wearing as she formulates an option for you when you hesitantly concede to doing a dare. "You're the only one of us still single, so I dare you to go over to the bar and give somebody a kiss." 

"What?!" 

"Just a quick one, nothing too scandalous," Cece says placatingly. "Come on, live a little! It's just a bit of fun. What's the worst that could happen?"

"I bet they won't do it. They're too chicken for this kind of thing, not one to step out of their comfort zone," Tassie says. It makes your blood freeze in your veins because you know those words. You have heard that criticism thrown at you in the past, but not from her, from your ex. 

Your eyes narrow at her, and you ask, "Too chicken? Seriously?"

"Yeah. Please, prove us wrong. Show us you can do something spontaneous," Tassie taunts, grinning. You feel a surge of defiance welling up. Even though you're reserved, you are not one to back down from a challenge, especially not when the woman who cheated with your boyfriend is acting like you're the one who should be ashamed. Acting like she is better than you. 

"Fine, watch this," You declare, feeling hot with a mixture of embarrassment and determination. As you stand up, your friends exchange amused glances, convinced that you are about to back out of the dare. 

With absolutely no intention of  backing down, though, you scan the bar. After a moment of examination your heart soars because you realize you have this dare in the bag. You have the advantage even, because there is a familiar tall, broad-shouldered blonde at the bar that you know all too well. Jake Seresin, or Hangman, is one of your brother's best friends, and he is looking just as delectable tonight as he always does. The group would undeniably be impressed with you kissing someone so handsome, and you knew one way or another you could convince Jake to help you out. 

"Cece, I'll even let you pick since you made the dare. Point out the hottest man in the bar, and I'll kiss him." You say confidently. There is no doubt that Jake is the most attractive person there, and he is just Cece's type, too. She falls right into what you want, pointing Hangman out for you. The rest of your friend group hoots, making even more comments that you aren't going to follow through with the dare and approach someone who is that drop-dead gorgeous. 

Ignoring their taunts, you square your shoulders and walk with as much confidence as you can summon into sashaying across the bar. Putting mental effort into trying to project some form of hotness onto yourself not only for the confidence boost but also the bit of spite burning in you. 

Reaching the bartop area, the hesitation starts to set in as you admire Jake's profile. He is sitting on a bar stool leaning against the counter, patiently waiting for the bartender in the crowd that is starting to grow. Taking one last breath to steady yourself, you reach out and delicately set a hand on his bulging bicep. 

"Hangman!" You say brightly as if you're surprised to have run into him. Jake turns to face you at your touch, and an easy wide grin spreads across his face. 

"Fancy seeing you here, my dear! How are you?" He asks as his eyes trace you slowly from head to toe and back again, the grin on his face not slipping once. 

"Oh, I’m fine, and I am so glad I ran into you." 

"Most people are," Jake says, winking at you. You are nearly distracted by his handsome face and flirty tone. He looks like he has put on even more muscle since you saw him last. The green button-down he is wearing appears close to bursting at the seams with how it clings to him. "So, what have you been up to these days?" 

"Are you still single?" You blurt quickly, ignoring his question, not wanting to lose your steam. 

"Yes, Ma'am. Last I checked. Why?" 

"Perfect, can you do me a huge favor?" You ask. 

"I'm always happy to help out a friend," Jake says, sounding increasingly suspicious. The smile hasn't dropped from his face, but his eyes have narrowed slightly, examining you. 

Quickly standing on your tip toes, you loop an arm around Jake's neck, appreciating that he is sitting on a stool, helping level your height difference. Wasting no time, you pull him down to meet you in a quick kiss. Once his lips brush yours, you let go of him, stepping back, not even taking a moment to savor the feeling or enjoy having Jake this close. 

With your mission accomplished, you have every intention of making a hasty retreat back to your friends and hoping that you will be able to forget this. You are going to erase knowing you've kissed Jake Seresin from your brain, and then the next time you see him, you're going to pretend this fiasco never happened. It feels like the best and only course of action for you to take. 

However, you don't even get to make a full step away from Jake before large hands and thick arms circle around your waist, pulling you back towards him. He tugs until you are standing between his spread thighs, his hands maintaining their position on your waist. 

"Woah now, where do you think you're going?" He asks, eyes darting around your face, studying you closely. 

Embarrassment at having to explain your actions rushes through you, turning your stomach and overriding or maybe enhancing the butterflies there. You glance away from Jake towards your friends and see them watching with rapt attention. Then his thumb moves in a slow soothing circle, drawing you back towards him. 

"I'm sorry! My friends dared me to kiss someone at the bar, and when I saw you, well, I knew it wasn't a lost cause because you're not a complete stranger." 

You refuse to believe that the frown that flashes on Jake's face is one of disappointment. However, it's hard to ignore when his eyebrows are scrunched together, and his hands are so warm you feel it bleeding through your clothing. 

"You could at least buy someone a drink before stealing a kiss, you know. That's just some common decency." 

"I'm so sorry, Jake," you apologize again. "Let me buy you a beer for your troubles." 

"Naw, you don't got to." 

"Well, now I have to because you made me feel bad," you say, waving your arm to try and flag down a bartender. 

"I didn't take you for one to just kiss someone on a dare," he says conversationally. You try not to wriggle uncomfortably in his hold, but without even trying, he seems to have pulled you even closer. 

"I normally wouldn't be," you agree. "But the girl who I highly suspect of cheating with my ex while we were still together is here. I'm sure she thinks she's better than me and that I'm a boring prude."

"She clearly has never been around when you drink tequila," Jake laughs. You can't believe he would still remember the camping trip from years ago, where you were drinking tequila. Definitely notable because it was probably the last time you had dared have any of the liquor. 

"Can you please forget about that? And tonight, too?" You request. Jake pretends to think it over, humming lightly before shaking his head. 

"Sorry, no can do. It's already burned into my eidetic memory." You huff at his response, avoiding eye contact with him to try and catch sight of the bartender again. "You know, if you just asked me first, I would have given you the friends and family discount." 

"And what is that?" 

"Pretty similar to buy one get one free," he says, his voice dropping a little lower. Your mouth falls open in surprise, but you can't find any words. "Could have given you more than a quick peck, something that would really wow your friends." 

Trying very hard not to imagine what kind of kiss Jake would consider wowing, you decide to deflect. Jokingly saying, "Didn't think you were from one of those kinda southern states. Do you make a habit of kissing family members?" 

Jake throws his head back and laughs full-bellied at you. "The friends and family of my friends discount then," he amends. 

"I already hate being in this situation. I don't want more of a pity handout than I've already taken."

"Darlin," he sighs, shaking his head at you. "I would have even given you the Hangman special. Which is a deal, bargain, and steal. Comes with a kiss that's guaranteed to impress friends, people who cheated with your atrocious ex, everyone in this bar, and has even been known to, on occasion, inspire a standing ovation." 

"Ha.Ha. You're so funny," you say dryly, rolling your eyes. 

"I am, thank you for noticing," Jake says. "However, I think you deserve that kind of kiss to prove a point to your friends over there." 

"They didn't even think I would be able to make it over here to talk to you." You admit to him, glancing over at your friends again, a little displeased that they are still obviously observing your interaction.

"That them over there?" He asks, following the direction you're looking. You hum in acknowledgment. "Which one's the cheater?" He breathes, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear, sending a shudder down your spine. 

You describe Tassie a bit to him, finding yourself shifting closer into his embrace, enjoying how he is somehow able to help most of the chaotic bar disappear from your senses. It's hard to think about the noise or the increasing number of people starting to press in when Jake's touching you. When he picks out who she is, Jake grunts a little. He lowers his face and nearly kisses your neck over the pulse point. His hot breath tickles the spot, causing shivers again as he declares, "I don't see the appeal." 

"Wish my ex felt that way," you sigh. 

"Fuck him," Jake says with conviction. Drawing a bit back from you to make eye contact again. His green eyes are clear, and in the dimmed mood light around you, they seem to shine even brighter than usual. 

"You sure you don't mind me having kissed you to prove a point?" 

"My dear," he laughs like you told him a funny joke. "I can't imagine a situation where I would mind you kissing me. Let alone one where I get to help you out." 

Sliding your hand up his chest to casually rest on his shoulder, you wonder, "Is the Hangman Special still available?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Guaranteed to be wowing?" You check. 

"Got a warranty for you and everything," Jake says lowly. 

Your hand curls around Jake's neck again, and you attempt to tug him closer to you. He doesn't even budge, though. One of his hands slowly traces up your side from your waist until he is cupping your cheek. Then Jake leans close, his breath ghosting over your lips, where he lingers for a moment. Your eyes flutter closed, and as soon as they do, his lips press to yours. This time, it's not a quick peck. 

He is slow and deliberate in how he kisses you. Tilting his head to the side to get a slightly better angle, Jake uses his hand on your face to urge your lips to align better with his. Pliable to his touch, you open your mouth to him, seeking even more, and rewarded when Jake's tongue brushes against your own. You never doubted that Jake would be a good kisser, but knowing firsthand is something you know you won't be able to erase from your memory. When the kiss starts to border on indecent, he pulls away. 

You linger in the moment, keeping your eyes closed until your heart doesn't feel like it's going to burst from your chest. While you are in that limbo spot, his thumb slowly strokes your cheekbone. Sea glass green is the first thing you see when opening them again, Jake not making any effort to veil how he is admiring you. His lips are slightly pinker now than they just were, and you can't help but imagine how pink and swollen they would get if you had the opportunity to get this man alone on a couch. 

Just as you consider requesting that he kiss you again, just to really really solidify how good you are to your friends, because obviously, three kisses are much better than the one they dared you to get, you are suddenly bumped from behind. The motion roughly shoves you against Jake's solid chest. Both his hands automatically return to your waist, tightening as he steadies you there. Glaring over your shoulder at whoever bumped you, he asks, "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm okay," you breathe. Being this close to him, the woodsy scent of his cologne tickles your nose. And you suddenly wonder why exactly he is in this upscale cocktail bar dressed so nicely. 

"I'm glad you decided to kiss me and not any of these other assholes," he mutters darkly, still glaring over your shoulder. 

"Well, it wasn't really a choice." You reveal, which has his eyes snapping back to you in an instant and a frown pulling at his lips. One of his thumbs that's resumed making circles on your waist stops, and the other falls off your waist entirely now. He doesn't move otherwise, but his presence feels less consuming. Tersely, he responds, "I see." 

"I may have skewed the odds. Told my friends to pick the hottest man they could find. What would you know? They picked you." You explain quickly.

"That's some good luck on your part." 

"It wasn't luck, not really."

"How do you mean?" He wonders. 

"I knew they would pick you." 

"What made you so confident?"

"Because, Jake, you are, hands down, the most attractive person here," you reveal to him shyly. Your fingers curling into his silky shirt, where they have found themselves on his chest after being pushed. 

"See now, I don't think that's true," he says, his eyebrows pulling together. The frown is gone though, the edges of his lips quirking up again. 

"Oh please, Jake. Do not pretend you don't know how handsome you are."

"I'm aware. However, that doesn't change the fact that you're the most attractive person in this bar tonight." 

"You're a flirt," you accuse him. 

"I am," he agrees with no argument. "But that don't make me dishonest or mean I'm not genuine. I haven't been flirting with you just for the sake of it." 

Warmth blooms in your center at his words, and you nearly forget all about trying to escape away from him. Right now, you just want to get closer, as close as he will let you. However, you are pulled out of the fantasy when you look away from Jake's intense gaze to see your friends and how most of the table seems shocked and scandalized. Wryly, you notice Cece giving you two thumbs up. It's like you could almost forget that this was just him being flirty and imagine he was kissing you for more than just helping prove a point. "Well, I appreciate your help with the Hangman Special. I know they will all be impressed and jealous when I head back over there." 

"Now, wait a moment. You can't just sneak away. The Hangman Special not only comes with mind-blowing kisses but also a free night out, all expenses paid, and dinner at any restaurant you choose. "

"You just give that away to any random person who asks?"

"No, only the pretty ones I've had my eye on for a long while," Jake says, his eyes intense, the hand still on your waist flexing tighter for a moment.

"You have?" You ask, completely surprised. 

"Yes, Ma'am," he replies with no hesitation. Before you can respond, the bartender finally makes his way over to you two, asking for your order. Jake instantly defers to you before ordering, asking, "What do you want, my dear?" 

"I thought I already told you I'm taking one of the Hangman specials." You say, after taking a moment to think it over. The grin that lights up Jake's face is sunny and bright, and if you weren't being supported by his strong body, you would have probably fallen over swooning. 

Turning back to the bartender, Jake requests two bottles of water and both of your tabs. As you peek over his shoulder while he signs, you see the bill consists of just one beer, the water, and the two drinks you've had tonight. 

"So you want the full experience?" He asks you when you've taken a sip of water, and he has downed half of his in the same time. 

"From what I know about you, Jake, I don't think you're someone who does things by halves," you answer, fiddling with one of the buttons on his silky green shirt. Then you are pushing a bit on his chest, trying to step away. When you do, Jake's hands find themselves on your hips again pulling you closer to him. 

"Where you going?" He pouts. 

"I just need to grab my purse." 

"Whatcha you need your purse for, sweetheart? Don't you know I ain't going to let you pay for nothing?" Jake drawls. 

"I'm sure you want that to come off gentlemanly, but you're close to flirting with misogynistic." You say, playfully poking a finger into his chest.

"No." Grabbing your hand and bringing it up to his lips, Jake brushes a kiss on your pulse point, saying, "I know exactly who I'm flirting with, and that is you, my dear." 

The laugh you let out is slightly involuntary, but it makes Jake look like he won a prize, so you can't be too displeased, especially not when he has resumed drawing circles on your skin, and it feels like some sort of hypnosis you never want to end. "I'll be right back, and you can keep flirting with me for as long as you like." 

"That a promise?" Jake asks.

"Sure thing," you agree, but Jake still hasn't let go of you. 

"Do you want some company?" 

"You don't have to." 

"Little worried you're going to try and sneak away," he admits. 

"But Jake, I am sneaking away," you say in a fake whisper as if sharing a secret. "Sneaking away with you from my friends and this bar." It makes him smile again, just like you were hoping it would. "Just wait here for me. Okay?"

"Okay," he reluctantly agrees. Despite agreeing, the hold he has on your hand actually slightly tightens. "One more kiss?"

"I'm starting to get the feeling that you're always going to want one more kiss."

"You already know me so well," Jake grins. You press your lips against his again in a quick kiss, careful not to get caught up in it, before slipping out of his grasp. When free, you practically skip away from Jake to grab your things. 

Arriving back to your friends, you're greeted with loud whooping and even some clapping thrown in. Cece is practically giggling as she says, "I really didn't think you had that in you." 

"What were you talking about for so long?" Another one of the group asks.

"Was that kiss as hot as he is?" Someone else wonders, and then questions are coming from every direction before you can answer any of them. 

"It was great, he's great." You manage to get in. When they start to flood you with even more questions, you cut them off. "I would love to talk all about it, but I'm sorry y'all, I'm actually just over here to grab my purse." 

"There is no way you are leaving with that guy," Tassie says incredulously. 

Irritation and anger flares up in you as you turn to glare at her. "Really, there's no way? And why would that be Tassie?" 

"Come on," she says, clearly surprised that you've decided to call her out. "You're just not the kind of person to go home with someone from the bar, and he doesn't really seem like your type." 

"I don't know how tall, handsome, funny, and phenomenal kisser could not be someone's type," You say harshly, snatching your purse and jacket from where you had been sitting. 

"I'm just trying to look out for you," she responds sharply. 

"I don't think that's true," you snap back. 

"Hey now, why don't we all chill out," your friend Marv cuts in placatingly. 

"Sorry to interrupt," a familiar southern drawl says from behind as a warm arm wraps around your shoulder. You nearly sag into Jake. The urge to explode on your friends, more specifically Tassie, instantly absorbed by his presence. "But I was promised I could take this one out on a date tonight." 

"We can't let our friend just leave with a stranger," Cece says, and you turn to narrow your eyes at her, frowning that she is butting in when she is the one who set all this into motion in the first place. 

"While I respect that, I don't think you get to make that decision," Jake says lightly and a lot nicer than you would have in that moment. 

"You could be a crazy serial killer or something," Tassie says. 

"While I am a killer, that's normally just how people describe me in bed," he answers in a flirty, exaggerated way. That has you nearly coughing, you suck in air so hard. He gently pats your back and continues on. "If you're really worried though, you can look me up on Instagram. That's at LT.H_ANGM_N. I hope y'all have a good night. I know we will be," Jake punctuates the sentence with a kiss to the side of your head. 

Stuck between laughing and balking you glance around at everyone’s surprised faces at Jake’s boldness. You know exactly what Jake's last Instagram post was, having spent several minutes the other day debating whether you should like the shirtless picture of him on the beach. 

"Are you ready, sweetheart?" Jake asks you, practically muttering the words in your ear. All he needs is your nod before he confidently starts to turn you and lead you out the door. You manage to throw your friends a small wave goodbye, but it only takes a few steps for them to be out of your mind. 

"Did you drive?" Jake asks you as the fresh evening air rushes over you both. 

"No.” And you’re glad you didn’t when it means Hangman will be driving you home.  

"Good," he grins, "do you mind me driving?" 

"I don't," you answer easily, completely content to follow Jake to wherever he is going to lead you. 

He stops in front of a Jeep Gladiator, and you aren't overly surprised by his taste in vehicles. He goes to open the passenger side door for you, but you don't immediately take his offered hand to get inside. Instead, you tug it as you lean against the side of the truck. Jake follows the motion easily, not hesitating to bend down and mold his lips to yours. 

Jake looms over you, one of his hands balancing his weight against the side of the truck just over your head. The other on your side pulling you a bit closer to him. Looping your arm around his neck for some leverage, you let Jake take over your senses. The softness of his tongue paired with how he nibbles at your lower lip pulls a little whine from you.

When you have to pull away for a ragged breath, Jake groans low in his throat as you press teasing kisses down the column of his neck to the V of skin his shirt shows off. The hand on your waist slides up to cup your cheek and pulls you back to his lips. Kissing Jake is easy, he doesn't leave enough room for you to question if he's enjoying it. Nor do you have the capacity to overthink it as Jake's lips move surely and confidently with your own. All there is is him, his warm strong body, soft lips, and the calluses of his fingers. 

Leaning backward, you pull Jake with you wanting to have him pressed flush because even though you're tasting him, caged in, surrounded by him it still isn't close enough. However, the motion presses one of the Jeep’s jutting door hinges sharply into your back. You can't help but gasp a small "ow" as you try to shift. Concern creases Jake's features, and he pulls you away from his truck into his chest, glowering at the vehicle as if it had somehow betrayed him. 

"You okay, darlin?" He asks, his hands tracing down your back checking for injury. You lean more into his chest even though you don't really need the support, it's just nice to be in his arms. 

"I'm fine," you reassure him. 

"Let's get you out of harms way." He says pulling open the passenger side door. As you start to heave yourself into the tall truck Jake is practically picking you up and easily setting you in the seat. You blink at him in surprise at his show of strength. He remains there, standing in the open door, leaning closer and placing his hand just above your knee, his thumb drawing circles there. Then he asks, "So, where would you like to grab some dinner, my dear?" 

"I've heard of this really great restaurant I've been dying to go to."

"Yeah? Let's make it happen then." 

"Mhmm," you hum in confirmation. "It's called Hangman's House." 

Jake's thumb immediately stops moving and the smile on his face seems to shift. The genuine glint there slipping away, to something hard for you to really identify, practiced or guarded. Whatever the change was you don't find yourself liking it and immediately wonder where you misstepped. 

"So, Hangman's House, that's a pretty exclusive place. They don't usually do unplanned reservations," Jake says after what's nearly an awkward silence. 

"That's too bad. I heard that they have great service." You say a little dejected but glad he told you no in a casual manner that you can play off. 

"You're in luck though, my dear, because I know the owner. I think he would be willing to make an exception for us sometime, but they are better known for their breakfast menu." Jake responds upbeat again. 

"I like breakfast." You mutter in what you think is a flirty way. However, it's obvious that you've missed the mark when Jake's hand drops off your leg completely now. 

"Listen, if this is just a one-night thing, just some making out and fun stuff, where you are going to leave in the morning and pretend it never happened next time we see each other," he says seriously. Pausing, he runs a hand through his hair taking a measured breath, and you watch as the muscle in his jaw flexes. "That's fine, but I need to know it now." 

As you study his face intently it occurs to you that maybe even men like Jake Seresin have insecurities. Maybe he was used to interacting with people where more often than not they only saw him as a handsome face with a nice body. People who were ready to leave the next morning. The realization that a one night stand isn’t the series of events he is interested in with regards to you twists a pit of uncertainty in your stomach. You feel a little uneasy not sure exactly where you stand or what he wants with you. 

Reaching to catch Jake's lost hand and tangling your fingers, you start playing with the big class ring he is wearing. He allows the movement and relaxes his hand further, giving you additional leeway. The distraction of Jake's fingers gives you the courage to say, "I guess maybe I misunderstood that this was going to just be a nice fun night with you. Is that not what you were looking for?" 

"I do want that," Jake says adamantly. " However, I don't just want that." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I want to bring you flowers, dance with you, write you love letters. I want to explore every inch of your body and heart until I know what makes you tick. I want you to forget that any other man besides me even exists." Jake presses himself close to you again, and he turns his hand to thread your fingers tightly together. "Now I'm good, and I mean really good my dear, but those aren't goals I can make happen in one evening. So I want to start with tonight, taking you out and giving you a good time. And then I want to do the same thing tomorrow or whenever you have free time. I want to do that for as long as you will let me." 

"Oh wow," you breathe, taken aback by his declaration. "That's kind of a lot." 

"I know, but I don't want my intentions to be unclear. I wasn't lying when I said I've had my eye on you for a while. I'm happy to go at whatever pace you need; I'll do whatever you want. However, if this was all just getting back at your ex and proving a point. If you can't see yourself wanting anything more with me past tonight again, I need to know." Now, Jake takes his turn playing with your fingers as he breaks eye contact to stare at where you're intertwined. "I'll happily let you break my heart, but I don't want to be blindsided by it. 

Surging forward, you pull Jake in to kiss you again. It's an awkward angle, and the way the truck makes you taller than him feels odd. However, none of that matters when his lips are so pliable against yours. 

"I don't want to break your heart," you tell him between kisses. "I want to go on dates with you, and I want to go home with you. I want to go to bed with you and do it more than once if we find out we are compatible." 

"Are you doubting our compatibility?" Jake asks, raising an eyebrow. 

"Not really, but you know it's better to make sure with these things. Have to double check, I think." 

"That makes sense," he concedes. 

"Now let's get some food so you can take me home and then to bed. Show me these killer skills you mentioned earlier." 

"We can do a lot tonight, but we can't sleep together," Jake says mournfully.

"Why not?" You ask confused. 

"Everyone knows you don't sleep together until the third date," Jake drawls.

"That's a cliche. Plus, why does it really matter?" 

"Because I've been dreaming about forever with you, and when you want forever with someone, you don't want to skip any steps." Jake answers, dead serious and earnestly. It makes you wish you weren't in such an awkward position in the truck. If you were still outside pressed against it, or in the bar even, it would be so much easier to show him the appreciation and affection burning inside. 

"We've got to be somewhere near the third date by now. We have tonight and that camping trip we went on. Oh, and that one time that everyone went bowling. Plus, there was that bonfire a few months ago!" You say, trying to think of occasions you and Jake had spent a good amount of time together. While considering it, you also realize he has nearly always gravitated to your side during group interactions, and going off tonight, that clearly wasn't as coincidental as you had previously thought. 

"You deserve real dates," Jake responds with conviction, and the look in his eye really isn't something you can or even want to argue with. There isn't anything wrong with someone wanting to act like a gentleman with you; it's actually flattering, especially when it's clear Jake isn't going to play any guessing games with you concerning his feelings. 

"Well, then we are wasting time when we could be on our first date," you say, pressing another peck to his lips and lightly pushing him away from you. 

"One last kiss," Jake whispers as he lurches close again for another peck. Then, he gently closes your door and jogs over to the driver's seat, asking where you want to get a bite to eat. 

The two of you end up at a fancy Italian restaurant where you share an appetizer, bottle of wine, and dessert. During dessert, Jake insists you pose for a picture. Despite your initial resistance, he convinces you, and then, nearly as soon as he takes it, your phone lights up with a notification telling you that you’ve tagged you in his story. He tells you before you even ask that he hopes your friends looked him up on Instagram but requests that you repost it on your own just in case they didn't. He claimed it's so they know he's not kidnapped you, but you suspect that it's more likely he wants to prove a point. And it's something you don't mind one bit, especially when he easily lets you post a picture of him on your own story. 

After the restaurant, Jake drives you both out of town a bit to where the sky is much clearer and the stars are visible. The evening isn't warm enough to cuddle in the truck bed like he wanted, so instead, you end up in the backseat with the moon roof completely rolled back. You manage to pretend to be looking at the stars for about three whole minutes before crawlingl into Jake's lap to kiss him. 

Before the making out can get too heated, Jake grips your chin, urging your face upwards to look through the moonroof. Gruffly, he mutters into your ear, telling you to behave. Words that only make you squirm in your newfound place sitting on his lap. He lets you stay there, though, his hands steady on your hips, and his lips leisurely brushing yours or your neck whenever inspiration strikes. 

"What were you doing out tonight looking so nice?" You wonder absentmindedly, unbuttoning the top button of Jake's shirt. It's not with an ulterior motive. Really, it's because Jake's shirt is so soft, and the top of it is hiding his dog tags from you, which you have suddenly decided is unacceptable. The new skin exposed to you is just an added benefit. 

"Ah, nothing to worry about darlin'." 

"Common, you can tell me," you say, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. 

"You know, whinnies?" 

It takes you a moment to place the restaurant and remember that it's across the street from the bar where you met up with your friends. "The wine bar?" 

"Yeah," Jake confirms. "Well, I was on a date there." 

"Oh." When Jake doesn't say anything, you decide you have to push the conversation forward. "So, what happened to your date? Were they not nice?"

"No, she was real sweet," Jake says, and you feel your stomach drop as if you aren't in the back of his truck and sitting in his lap right now.

"So why did you end up at Gem's?" 

"I was checking Instagram before she got there, and I saw you post that you were at Gems, right across the street. And no matter how nice she was, I knew it wasn't fair that I was thinking of a different person the whole time. So, we didn't even make it through appetizers before I had to be honest with her about that, and then I swung by Gems, hoping I would bump into you." 

"You were at the bar just to see me?"

"Sure was. So imagine my surprise when you found and approached me first."

"How would it have gone if you had approached me first?" You wonder. 

"For one, I would have offered to buy you a drink before stealing a kiss," Jake says teasingly. 

"You're not going to let that go, are you?" 

"Probably not for a while," he tells you. You groan and hide your face in his neck as if that will save you from some of the embarrassment. Feeling his chuckles in his throat and rumble in his chest is soothing, and you pepper more kisses to his neck and collarbone as if you were tracing the sound.

"You wouldn't have left without a kiss, though?" 

"I wouldn't have left without seeing you, and I would have done everything to try and convince you to give me one," Jake promises. 

"How would you have kissed me for the first time?" 

"Are you asking for another demonstration?" he wonders. As soon as you nod in affirmation, he pulls you close, repositioning you on his lap so you're straddling him. The darkness of the truck makes it so you can't quite see how green his eyes are, despite that they are still somehow bright.  He holds eye contact with you for a long moment. His hand cups your cheek, and like earlier in the night, he pauses, not closing the gap, observing you close. When you try to lean forward and seal your lips, he backs his head away. Then he chastises you while wearing a smirk, "I'm goin' to kiss you, baby. Now, let me do it how I want." 

Anticipation tingles in you as Jake leans close; however, at the last minute, he swerves, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then the other cheek, your forehead, and your nose. Finally, his lips meet yours firmly. Closing your eyes, you sigh into the kiss. The feeling of being intimately connected to Jake again is nearly the same as relief. When your mouth opens, Jake licks into you, searching out your tongue with his own. 

There no longer seems to be any will in Jake to tamper down the heat of your kissing. He allows you each time you push the envelope of the moment being just the soft sweet first date kissing he initially claimed to want. As he sucks on the sweet spot, her discovers on your neck, the way you grind downwards is involuntary and completely by accident. A low moan comes from Jake, and you like the way it sounds. So, the next time you grind down on him, it's completely intentional. 

The dark slacks he is wearing don't do much to conceal his hardened length. After a few more rolls of your hips, Jake's hands tightly grip your waist helping you grind against him. He urges you into a rhythm that has whimpers, moans, and gasps passing from both your mouths between hot kisses. As you try to speed up, frantic lust beating so loud you can hear it in your ear, he doesn't let you. Though you are on top of him, there is no doubt that Jake is in complete control. 

Just from this night, it's not difficult to imagine how he will be in the bedroom. Strong,  consuming, and in control. You can picture how he will confidently lead you exactly where you want to go, and you will get there because just a back of the car's make-out shouldn’t cause someone to be as turned on as you are right now. You unbutton his shirt and let your hands roam over his chest. Dragging your nails along his abs causes a full body shudder and Jake to grip your ass so hard you think you might bruise. It doesn't bother you, though, because how can anything that gets you closer to his cock be a bad thing? 

“Jake,” you say in a sudden moment of clarity. He hums his acknowledgment but keeps kissing at your neck and squeezing at your ass. A particularly hard thrust upwards from him nearly has your brain going fuzzy as you desperately try to hold yourself together.  “Jake,” you repeat more forcefully, “we need to stop.” 

“What’s wrong?” He asks concerned, detaching his lips from your skin and losing his hold so he is barely touching you. 

“If we keep at this I'm going to beg you to fuck me right here right now,” you answer. He makes a strangled groan. With his swollen lips, lust filled eyes, and hard dick you're sure he wouldn't actually mind. “Which would be amazing but you told me about a three date rule and I agreed.” 

“I did say three dates,” he responds and looks like he hates himself for it. 

“But if it doesn't actually matter I would like to suck your cock at least once before we fuck.” You boldly tell him, twisting his dog tags in your fingers pulling them taut against Jake’s neck until the release beads give away. The chain falls into your grasp, and you use the warm metal to distract yourself. 

“Fuck me,” he breathes throwing an arm over his eyes and leaning back. “You're perfect, you know that?” 

“I'm not.” 

“You are. So perfect, so hot.” He kisses you like he's about to ignore what you just said. Hot and a little sloppy with tongue and a bit at your lower lip. When he pulls away he rests his forehead against yours saying, “We are going to stop now  because I don't want there to ever be a doubt in your mind that I'll keep the promises I make to you.”

Your stomach flips with affection, and you sag, leaning heavily into Jake, just hugging him tightly, waiting for the lust that's sparked to cool. The two of you even manage to get some actual stargazing in where hands roam but in more so in an exploratory way than sexual. 

Holding hands driving back into the city you can’t stop staring at Jake’s profile, or admiring his fingers or tracing the veins of his forearms. You are focusing on trying to convince yourself that this isn’t a dream, you're definitely going to wake up with hickies in the morning, and another date with Jake Seresin scheduled tomorrow. It’s something that if you had been told at the start of your evening, you would have laughed at the absurdity of the idea. 

"I know it's really soon, but do you think that if you asked me again in a few weeks if I'm still single, we'll be able to change my answer?" Jake asks you after a bit breaking the comfortable silence you two had been in. 

"I think that's possible. What do you think about that?" You wonder. 

"I would change my answer tonight if you wanted me to."

"Jake..."

"Listen, I really like you, and I don't see that changing anytime soon. So as soon as you give me the okay, I will bring you flowers with a promise ring and ask if you want to go steady with me." Jake's thumb rubs along your pulse affectionately, "I'll change my Facebook relationship status. I'll get a nice little charm with your name on it for my dog tags. I'll take you to meet my friends and brag about how amazing you are." Jake leans over at a red light to press a soft kiss to your lips. "The whole shebang." 

"That sounds nice. Does that deal have a special name, too?" 

"Yeah, we can call it the Jake special. It is a whole package, long-term, all-inclusive deal." 

"Extended warranty?" You check jokingly.

"It actually has a no-return, no-refund policy," Jake answers.

"That's a pretty big commitment," you whisper back, even though the idea of keeping Jake all to yourself sounds nothing but appealing. 

"It's not something that expires. So how about tonight, we just worry about getting you home where you're going to let me walk you to your front door and give you a kiss goodnight."

"Just one kiss?" You ask in a pretend pout. 

"Let's shoot for two, but don't be surprised if it's three, maybe even four." 

"I want five," you declare stubbornly.

"Then I'll give you six," he easily offers. 

You try to hide your smile but don't quite manage it. It's a permanent fixture the whole drive home and during all seven of the goodnight kisses you get. They aren't the best kisses in the world because Jake is smiling through them, too. It's okay, though, because you both know there's going to be more in the future, a lot more. 

[teacupsanddahlias]

🥹🥹 No, because this is the best thing ever! It’s perfectly Jake!

[theroosterperch]

My lungs are collapsing rn

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

Don't Go to Bed Angry - Rooster

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw / Wife!Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

This work, all of my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Arguments; Martial Strife; Storming Off; Some Angst; No Description of Reader, Female Reader, Wife Reader, Second Person POV ("You"), No Y/N

Summary: You and Rooster have an argument and he storms off.

You and Bradley had a perfectly healthy relationship. There was open communication and a strong level of trust shared between you. There had to be for your frequently long-distance and low-communication lifestyle. And sure, every relationship had its ups and downs, but your marriage with Bradley was overall healthy and strong.

But tonight, it was one of those rare nights where the bad seemed to overwhelm the good.

Both of you had been highly stressed out lately. There was work, family commitments, friends, things to do around the house, endless cleaning and adulting, bills, the question of kids, and everything else in between. You name it, it was stressing out one or both of you at the moment. And all of that stress seemed to just soak through all of your interactions with your husband.

Tonight, it started small and snappy. He had a long day at work and your boss had been a dickhead and you were both in a bad mood. Then small little comments quickly ignited bigger arguments and then the two of you were yelling at each other. It ended with Bradley grabbing his keys, muttering something about ‘leaving before he said something that he would regret,’ and then slamming the door behind him. 

You didn’t bother to ask him where he was going. He wouldn’t have told you anyways. 

But a few hours later, as you were getting ready for bed, a sinking feeling settled in your gut. You would have expected him to be back by now. He always was back by now. That little nagging feeling in the back of your mind—the one that immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario jumped up and then you were picking up your phone.

You tried Bradley’s cell phone one, twice, three times, but he didn’t answer. So, then you moved on to the next person who would know where Bradley had gone. Maverick picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Maverick asked calmly.

“Have you seen or heard from Bradley this evening?” you asked softly, fiddling with the loose thread from your shirt. It was actually one of Bradley’s old tee shirts that didn’t fit him anymore, but it was your go-to nightie these days.

“No, I haven’t, why?”

“No reason,” you mumbled, glancing out the window for any sign of your husband.  

“Did you want me to call him for you?” Maverick offered, sounding like he understood the situation.

“No, no, it’s fine. Thanks, Mav. Have a good night.”

“You too.”

Hanging up the phone, you sighed and held your head in your hands for a moment. You let out a breath to steady yourself and turned for the main door in your house. You locked it, since Bradley still had his keys, and walked around the house to turn off all the lights. When you were finished, you slowly headed back to your bedroom.

You turned around and was about to close the door to your bedroom as well when you paused. You and Bradley always had an unspoken signal in your relationship. If after a fight or just a long day, if the door to the bedroom was left open, it meant that the other person was welcomed and wanted. If the door was closed, they needed more time. Simple as that. 

After a moment of contemplation, you left the door open.

Walking over to your bed, you pulled back the covers and slipped under them. You rolled over and turned off the light. After some mindless scrolling to try and take your mind off of it, you accepted the fact that Bradley was probably not coming home tonight, and set your phone down. Glancing over your shoulder at Rooster’s spot, you sighed and sunk into your pillow a bit more.

After a bunch of tossing and turning, you finally started to drift off to sleep. You were half asleep when the main door unlocked and Bradley slipped inside the house. He shut the door behind him and re-locked it before he slowly padded towards your bedroom. He paused in the hallway, noting the open door, before he stepped inside.

Glancing over your mostly sleeping form, Bradley slowly closed the door behind him. Padding over to his side of the bed, he shed his jeans and shirt and grabbed the blanket. Gently pulling it back, he slipped into bed with you. The sudden dip in the bed caused you to lightly stir. You were about to roll over when Rooster wrapped his heavy arm around your waist. 

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered softly to you. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Okay,” you mumbled out, still mostly asleep. Snuggling back against Bradley, you sunk further into the bed as you soaked up his added warmth. “Are you okay?” you whispered softly.

“I’m fine,” Bradley replied softly. “Are you?”

You hummed in agreement and he pressed a kiss to your shoulder in response, nuzzling your skin for a moment. Pulling back, Rooster pressed a kiss to the side of your head, his lips brushing against the top of your right ear.

“We’ll talk in the morning.” You hummed in agreement once more, causing Rooster to pull you closer again. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” you whispered back before you fell back to sleep. 

[laaundromat]

Comfort Back Home, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw

Summary: As strong as Bradley can be, he feels miserable from time to time. This is the first time he crumbles in front of you.

Short (900ws), cute drabble for baby Bradshaw

Being the best upcoming aviator in the Navy has to be stressful, you think, and yet Bradley had handled it like a champ up until recently.

He’s always done everything by himself, and although behind closed doors he would let frustrated tears out, around people he would always show the confident and happy side of himself.

If not, he still kept himself relatively calm for when he was alone, not wanting to come off as vulnerable to others (mostly Hangman).

But, there’s always a breaking point. Since you had been around him during the deployment at Top Gun with Maverick, and you’d seen him react fairly well (apart from some quieter days and a snapping attitude from time to time), you’d think it would take him a bigger obstacle to completely break down.

And yet, all it took was a minimal fuck up in the air during training, and he’s now knocking on your flat looking like a beaten up puppy, blood-red eyes and shuffled hair. You heart tightens in concern gazing up at him, usually big and strong, looking small in an oversized hoodie that was his father’s.

“Baby…”, you whisper, a hand slowly rising for the instinct of giving him a comforting touch, but stopping midway to check if he’s okay with that. He has the strength to smile at your respect for him as he nods.

When your warm hand makes contact with his burning cheek, he takes a few seconds to close his eyes and the moment the irises disappear, a tear runs down his cheek.

You move in a heartbeat and yet somehow still slowly to not startle him from the bliss he’s feeling now. You keep one hand on his face, while curling the other around his waist to move him inside, and then close the door.

“Bradley,” you try, now both hands on his neck, thumbs overlapping a few stressed veins there. He opens his eyes, and you’re met with a thunderstorm of emotions that make you want to cry out in agony.

You recognize all of it. The pain, the worry, the bad thoughts, the lack of strength, the fear of being so lost and powerless all of a sudden. You know because you’ve experienced that as well. And seeing it on him, recognizing how much pain he’s in right now really destroys you. It’s the last thing you want for him. You want him to be the careless side of him all the time, cocky smiles and silly chokes. You try your best to do your side of what you can, and although you knew at one point it had to happen, it still grumbles your grounds.

You try to think fast, and doing that you can feel a hint of panic starting to make its way inside you. Fearing you’re not what he needs right now because you’re incapable of helping him in this situation, when he needs you the most. You can feel all your insecurities trying to take over you, but Bradley is your priority, his desperate eyes begging you to gain the power he's lost right now. All your memories with him calm you down and, at the same time, give you strength, and you know what to do.

You take off of his shoulder the training bag from work, and then slot your fingers in his hand and slowly, carefully, you bring him in front of the couch and staying there as he sits. He goes to drag you down with him but you restrain, silently asking him with your eyes to trust you with your thing.

You nudge his legs open with your knee and slot in between them, standing a few feet taller in front of him, his head leveled with your chest. Smiling reassuringly, you embrace his neck with both arms and lay his head on your chest, right between your breasts, his nose nuzzling on your right one, and eyes closed in bliss.

You whisper sweet nothings to him. Words of affirmation you know he needs. You tell him how much you missed him during the day. How much you thought of him. How needed he is in your life, how essential he is. You lightly sway left and right, in a silent lullaby, while calling him pet names you know he loves. He takes a few minutes to connect fully after a well deserved, love-ignited black out, and moves fast to wrap his arms around the low of your thighs. You feel his gratitude in the kiss he gives your breast followed by a content smile.

"My Baby," you say blissfully and, at one, he lets all loose.

He cries, tears damping your shirt and you couldn’t care less. you're cooing at him in understanding, though you know they’re not sad tears. They are of relief. He feels like all his worries just disappeared under those words, and he can’t believe it happened after a whole day they weighted on his shoulders.

You both don’t make a sign to move.

“Whenever I am sad, feeling you caging me like this brings me back to Earth. Makes me feel safe, knowing there’s someone bigger than my insecurities believing in me, helping me take those away. I wanted to do it for you too, baby. I’m sorry today was stressful, but I’m bigger than the bad things you thought of yourself throughout today. I am here always, at the end, and I’ll remind you of all the good things you’ve done and felt. And I’ll be with you when you feel like crying to fight for you, yeah?”

He nods against your body, arms tightening around you as few more sleepy kisses are left on the valley of your breasts.

[fandomxpreferences-deactivated2]

Heart Of Gold, Hands Of A Healer

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x female!reader

TW:none, just tooth rotting fluff

Summary: Bradley never knew how much he needed love and affection until you gave it to him.

Word Count:2.8k

A/N: Okay lets hope it doesn't cut off this time bc I'm at my wits end

Bradley Bradshaw doesn't consider himself a soft, lovable man. He keeps barbed wire around his heart, isn't very affectionate, and drops his life at the drop of a hat when the Navy comes knocking. 

He's large and broad, his body is littered with scars, and his hands are calloused from years of working on his car and flying F18s. When he does have a girlfriend, they never stick around for long. They soon realize he's not a project that can be fixed and lose interest. 

They always want to settle down and get married, and they can't handle his closed-off emotions and unwillingness to have anything permanent. So they cut and run, and Bradley lets them. He figures they want him to chase them, fall to his knees in the rain, and beg them to stay. He never does. 

He concluded he's got too much baggage, not that anyone ever stuck around long enough to help him unpack it. Women don't like his battered, imperfect body. Sure, he's got abs that rival a greek god, but it's flawed with imperfections that they never cared to get the story behind. 

Until he met you. 

You blew into his life like a warm summer breeze, and he realized he hadn't been breathing his entire life. You disarmed him in an instant without him even noticing. The cage around his heart fell apart, and he let you in without a second thought. 

You make him feel safe and adored, and the weight of his past melts away when you're with him. The second his eyes land on you, the tension dissolves from his body. His shoulders drop a bit, his joints stop aching, and his jaw unclenches. 

His dentist has been on him for years about incessant teeth grinding at night, and it turns out the solution is sleeping next to you. He never knew how much he craved affection, but the second your soft hands grazed his flesh, he was hit with the realization that he needs your touch more than air. 

He's like a giant next to you, his frame looming over your body when he hugs you. He's frequently found holding your hand up to his, marveling at how your fingers only extend an inch or two beyond his palm. Those hands he loves so much, capable of bringing them to his knees despite the fact he makes fun of you and says they're no bigger than a child's.

You find beauty in all of his scars and scrapes, taking time to get the story behind even the most insignificant mark that even he forgot exists. You make him feel important, always listening intently as if he's telling you the most exciting thing you've ever heard. 

You always take your time worshiping him, your fingertips tracing the plains and valleys of his tender skin with feather-like pressure as if they're roadmaps to someplace sacred only you know about. 

He's never been particularly insecure; that's not the word he would use to describe it. He just doesn't like the marred places on his body, tissue built up from where it was torn open. A silvery reminder of everything he's been through. 

He confessed he thinks his scars are ugly one evening, and you looked at him with such revere that he felt love for himself blossom deep in his bones. 

He's never seen himself as anything other than damaged goods, yet you see him in such a beautiful light he can't help but let it shine through him. 

You and Bradley have only been official for a couple of weeks, yet it feels like he's known you for a lifetime. 

You're sitting at the hard deck, and he notices you staring at the side of his face. 

"See something you like?" He jests, but your face remains serious. 

You reach out gingerly, almost afraid he'll jump back, and trace the scar on his jaw. Your fingertips leave a trail of fire, and he freezes.

"No one has ever done that before."

You look at him curiously, your forehead scrunched and your head tilted. 

"Why not?"

He shrugs shyly and averts his gaze. 

"I think they're ugly, and I guess other people do too."

You shake your head and lean forward to press a chaste kiss to the place your hand just was. 

"They're part of you, Bradley. Evidence of a life lived. There's nothing ugly about that."

You lay together on the bed that night as he took you on a journey through his life, tenderly loving each of his scars, both mental and physical. 

Your lips press barely there kisses on each mark that graces his face and neck, and Bradley allows his eyes to flutter closed. He revels in the feeling, electricity crackling just under the surface every time your mouth touches him.

"Beautiful." You whisper, and Bradley finds himself agreeing. Not because he thinks the tattered skin is special but because he now associates it with you. 

"How'd you get this one?" You ask, lips tracing a two-inch long line on his palm. 

"Cut myself with a butter knife in second grade." He responds, voice soft like rain in the fall. 

"And this one?" You're now focusing on a raised welt on his pectoral, the old mark barely visible. If you didn't know to look for it, you'd miss it. He pushes away the idea that you pay such close attention to him that you were able to pick up on it anyway; the thought makes him want to cry. 

"Paintball to my bare chest at close range. My buddy and I did it on a dare in high school."

You hum contentedly and continue on your path. 

"What about this?" 

Your finger taps his knee, and he smiles softly. 

"Varsity baseball. I was known for sliding into home, and one day I caught a piece of gravel."

You smile fondly at the visual and glance up at him. 

"Will you show me pictures sometime?"

He swallows thickly and then nods. 

He isn't usually one for reminiscing. That was around the same time Carol got sick, and he's never let anyone into that part of his life. He knows you're different; if he told you no, you wouldn't push the subject. 

He wants to share those memories with you, and he wants you to know his parents the way he did. It doesn't hurt so bad when you're the one he's talking to about them.

You let him share at his own pace, never expectant and always allowing him to stop whenever he gets uncomfortable. He feels lighter, and he supposes it's because you've seen the darkest parts of him. 

Instead of running, you took his pain gently in your hands as if to say, 'Let me help you carry this. You don't have to be crushed under the weight of your grief anymore.'

Your heart is pure, and Bradley has never felt love like yours. It's all-encompassing, wrapping him in golden light and promising never to let him be shrouded in darkness again. 

You're lying on his chest, watching as he flips through old photos and albums. Your hand rubs the scar on his palm absentmindedly as he explains each and every one to you. So many women have refused to even acknowledge the marks that glimmer when the light hits them just right, yet you find comfort in them. 

"This one was taken a couple of weeks before my dad passed." He explains, and you smile fondly at the image of little Bradley sitting atop Goose's shoulders as he and Carol laugh. You can feel the joy radiating from them and reach out to stroke the laminate paper carefully. 

"You look like them. You have your dad's eyes and mom's smile. I can see where you get your goofy and bubbly personality from. They live through you." 

You don't realize how much weight those words carry at the moment, and Bradley swallows the lump in his throat. He doesn't think he's a bubbly person, but every time you laugh at one of his corny jokes or smile at him like he hung the moon, he starts to believe it more and more. 

"How did they meet?"

You're not paying him much mind, and that's what gets him. You're not trying to be sweet and thoughtful; it's just who you are. There's no ulterior motive or desire to figure out why he's so fucked up just to fix him. 

You just want to know about him and how he came to be. It's completely innocent, an act of pure love, and he can't imagine how he got by all these years without you. 

"They were both from Virginia originally. They met at mom’s job, and she always said that she didn't notice dad at first, even though he was completely smitten. Apparently, she turned him down a few times, but he kept showing up and making her laugh. I don't entirely believe that, though." 

You move to look up at him through your lashes and kiss his jaw. 

"Why don't you believe it?" 

The question is simple, yet it causes his heart to swell. You genuinely care and want to know more. He'll never get over the fact that you listen when he tells you stories and ask more questions because you're interested in the answers. 

"Mom always looked at him like he was her whole world. I can't imagine a time that she didn't see him in that light, even in the beginning. She never even glanced at another man after he died, so I like to believe they were meant to be from the start." 

You hum and look back down as he turns to a new page. 

"Kind of like us." 

He chuckles, and you grin as his chest rumbles under your cheek. 

"Like us?"

You roll your eyes playfully and take in the picture of Carol kissing Bradley on the cheek as he grimaces. He can't be any older than five or six. 

"I've been head over heels since the second I met you, Bradley Bradshaw." 

His breath hitches, and he hesitates for a second. 

"It wasn't love at first sight? You had to meet me first?" He teases, trying to lighten the mood a bit. 

"Well, of course I noticed how handsome you are. But that's not what got me. It was your energy. You lit up the room without even knowing it. You're this ball of light, yet you don't see it. Usually, men who look like you and have a job like yours are insufferable assholes."

He snorts at this and nods. 

"Hangman." He murmurs, and you slap his arm lightly. 

"Be nice. Anyway, you're genuine and kind. It's always the most radiant people that are hardest on themselves. As soon as you said your name, you had me hook, line, and sinker. I wanted to know every last thing about you, and I'll never get tired of learning who you are."

You barely finish your sentence before he captures you in a searing kiss. You melt into him instantly, and he wonders how he managed to fall in love with an angel.

"Tell me more about them. The good parts that you think of when you want to smile." You mutter, and he looks down at you.

"On Sundays, we always had breakfast together. Dad would make french toast from scratch, and I would help mom squeeze oranges for fresh juice. We always laughed and made a mess, then cleaned it up together. I miss it."

He has a wistful smile, and you kiss the corner of his lips. 

"That sounds nice." 

He nearly sobbed when he woke up to the smell of syrup the following weekend and found you making french toast with bacon in the kitchen. It's something else you share now, the two of you dancing around each other as you sing 80s songs and giggle.

The Dagger squad walked in on it one day, and they were adopted into the tradition too. They love how Bradley is around you and quickly noticed that you always seem to be touching him somehow. 

Whether you're rubbing soothing circles on his skin, resting your legs over his, or playing with his hair, you're always showing some form of physical affection. 

One night while cuddled on the couch, Bradley almost melted into a puddle. 

You're only half watching the movie on the TV, your hands running through Bradley's curls while his head is in your lap. That's another thing, Bradley loves being held. 

Without thinking, you scratch your nails against his scalp and feel him instantly nuzzle further into your thighs. 

"Do that again, please." 

You do as he asks, and he lets out a soft groan. 

"That feels nice. I don't know the last time someone has done that." 

He's practically drooling as he says it, and you continue without another word. 

He falls asleep not long after, and you smile down at the man who carries the world on his shoulders. 

You always seem to know when Bradley needs a hug or to be the little spoon. He doesn't know how you do it, but you'll never catch him complaining. 

Like tonight, you just seem to know what he needs even if he doesn't. His feet are heavy as they carry him to the front door of your shared home, and he heaves a sigh before swinging the door open. 

It's like you know what kind of day he had, and without a moment's hesitation, you're standing in front of him, ready to take the weight off.

Your arms wrap around him, and he leans into you instantly. You shift slightly to support him and rub your hand up his back.

"Let's take a bath."

He doesn't respond other than a nod against your neck, and you lead him to the bathroom.

He watches as you run a bath with bubbles and salts before stripping down. He sits still as you take his boots off his screaming feet and carefully remove his uniform.

As soon as he's naked, you climb into the bath together, settling into the large garden tub.

You wash his hair as he leans back against you, and he shutters at the sensation. You rub shampoo into the chestnut strands, your nails scratching his scalp the way he loves every so often. He lets you work as the stress seems to be rinsed away with the suds. 

The two of you stay there in silence until the water is cold. You don't pry for details, and he's grateful. He doesn't like bringing work home; you're perfectly okay with that. You know if he needs to talk, he will. 

He clambers out of the bath, and you dry him off as exhaustion sets in, threatening to consume him before he can even lay down. 

"Stay there." You whisper, and he listens as the door opens and closes. 

You're back before he can really process you've even left and hand him clean clothes. They're warm from the dryer, and he tries to figure out when you had time to toss them in there. He wonders if you did it before he even got home, a sixth sense you've developed telling you that he would need it. 

The two of you get dressed in silence and pad into your bedroom. You pull back the comforter and climb in, opening your arms as an invitation for him. He crawls across the bed and collapses onto your chest, your arms pulling up the blanket to cover the two of you before securely wrapping around him. 

He inhales deeply, the aroma of your perfume and laundry detergent muddling his senses. The sheets have just been washed, and you've sprayed his favorite lavender vanilla freshener on the pillows. 

You trace his body the way you always do, and he settles in further, almost laying entirely on top of you. You don't mind one single bit; just happy that you're able to be some sort of solace for him as he drifts off. 

He never saw himself having this type of relationship; he didn't even want it. But as he lies here with images of you flashing through his subconscious, an overwhelming feeling of safety envelops him, and he knows he was wrong. 

Your love makes him want to fall to his knees and repent for the errors in his previous ways, almost sorry that he'd been robbing himself of this for so long. Then again, he figures he probably didn't miss much anyway. Your love is once in a lifetime; he wouldn't have found it with anyone else, even if he wanted to.

Bradley Bradshaw never saw himself as a kind or loving man until you appeared and showed him what love is. Now, he surrenders himself completely. He doesn't know if heaven is real, but he figures this is about as close as he can get. 

[sometimesanalice]

What’s In a Name?

Summary: Bradley really loves the way you say his name. At the grocery store. At the bar. In his bed.

Warnings: fuff, and so much smut. Minors DNI

Length: 9K

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

(This is a one-shot for my ‘Like I Can’ series. You don’t need to read it first, but you might want to. It’s pretty cute! You can check it out here!)

Bradley loved hearing you say his name. 

He’d gone almost two years without hearing it. Back when he was ‘Rooster’ or ‘Bradshaw’ to you. Back when you weren’t sure how you would fit into the life he had built in San Diego when you had moved there for a promotion. Now he made it a priority to show you just how seamlessly your lives fit together, to remind you just how right you were for each other.

There were times when he still couldn’t believe that he was able to have you so entirely. You went from being just his closest childhood friend to being his everything. And now that he had you there was nothing he liked more than the sound of his name coming from your lips. 

He loved hearing it every chance he could. 

He’d never come so hard has he had the first time he’d heard you chanting his name over and over again as he’d fucked you in his bed. Your hair had been a riot on his pillow, your lips swollen from the attention he’d given them with his own. He’d just barely gotten you over the edge before he’d followed, so overwhelmed by your sweet voice so needy and breathy in his ear.

BradleyBradleyBradley

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[theroosterperch]

I am hacking n coughing n wretching I cannot breathe

[sometimesanalice]

Bedside Manner

Summary: You were expecting the perfect summer afternoon with the Daggers, but when a game of dogfight football takes a turn for the worse, you’re left with a bleeding head and an aching heart. And it’s up to Bradley to show you his bedside manner.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 8K

Warnings: A little angst, a little pining, and two idiots in love.

It’s a perfect summer afternoon. Well, almost.

The sun is high in the sky and the steady salt kissed ocean breeze keeps it from being too uncomfortably hot. The coolers are filled with beers and sodas and a few pink cans of rosé that Coyote had brought. And the beach blankets were littered with open half-eaten family sized bags of chips and cubes of bright pink watermelon and containers of various dips and ziplocs with sun warmed and mostly melted chocolate chip cookies.

“You guys, really, I’m fine,” you state as adamantly as you can given the circumstances.

Sure, you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your throbbing, bleeding head. Sure, you are a little afraid to put your full weight on your left ankle and already dreading the long walk back to your car.

But it’s fine, you’re fine. Everything is…peachy. Or it will be as soon as they all stop looking at you like you’re about to crumple to the ground like some 1920’s silent film starlet from on the silver screen.

Nat has that deep pinch between her sharp brown eyes. Jake’s lips are pressed together in a firm white line. The rest of the team stands hovering around you in a misshapen semicircle, all sandy and sweaty, and wearing the concern painted across their faces.

All except for Rooster, who can’t seem to look at you at all.

“Clearly, you’re not,” Phoenix says flatly, clearly unamused by your attempts to minimize the situation. And you wish that just this once she could have let this go and follow your lead. But then she wouldn’t be Natasha Trace.

Your best friend since middle school had always been the most capable and sharpest person in the room and you loved that about her.

Normally.

But not so much when her keen assessment of you keeps you from being able to slink away quietly without fuss. 

“No, seriously. It’s just a little scratch. It’s not a big deal.” It sounds feeble even to your own ears. Trying to hold back a wince when the way you shake your head makes starbursts bloom behind your eyes.

You could have dealt with the pounding in your head if it weren’t for the relentless burning of your ankle that was only making things worse. One or the other would have been easier to manage, but both vying for your attention as the pain pulses with every heartbeat was miserable.

The sun was too hot, the kids frolicking the ocean were too loud, the sunscreen on your skin felt too greasy. All you wanted was a shower and your bed and to forget this whole day even happened.

You look around the group trying to gauge how successful your efforts are, but it’s clear that no one seems to be buying your brand of poorly performed bullshit. You wanted to crawl into yourself like a hermit crab, protected by your own shell, as six pairs of eyes all looked on at you sympathetically, while the pretty brown ones you wanted to see the most were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses and trained down at the ground.

It was supposed to be a fun day.

You’d woken up that morning absolutely giddy about trading spreadsheets for sand and sunburns and sea salt tangled hair. Your cheery, new swimsuit already laid out and waiting for you from the night before.

There was something thrilling about hooky on a Friday with all of your favorite people that made you feel all kinds of young and free. Well, hooky for you. They’d been given the day off after a month of intensive training and testing of some new defensive software. They all deserved the break and you were more than happy to tag along.

You were always the good kid in school, never skipping, never missing a class. You’d felt like a rebellious teen as you crafted your ‘out of office’ email, a smug grin on your face like you were getting away with something. Even though you’d earned the right to use that PTO whichever way you wanted.

The anticipation of a snow day from your childhood school days had nothing on the intoxicating promise of a beach day on a golden summer Friday.

The team must have felt the same way too because the group chat the night before had been chaotically amusing. The excitement was palpable enough that you’d almost think you all lived in some landlocked state rather than San Diego, where it felt like all roads led to the beach whether you wanted them to or not.

Somewhere between the string of all capitalized sentences and exclamation points with a few well-chosen emojis scattered throughout, Natasha had managed to wrangle everyone in enough into sorting out who was responsible for bringing what. There wouldn’t be another veggie platter incident, not on her watch.

You’d felt bright and effervescent as you’d pulled into the parking lot, your eyes reflexively seeking out a blue Bronco that hadn’t arrived yet. With a beach chair over one shoulder and a beach bag over the other and a packed cooler bag in your hand, you’d made towards the multicolored sprawl of blankets and the striped peaks of the umbrellas, where you were met with the smiling faces of shiny happy people.

Some of the boys had rushed over to help you carry your things and added your offerings to the communal pile of snacks and sunscreen and bottles of water. It had been easy to fall into conversation with everyone as you set up your own little patch of paradise and shimmied out of your frayed cut-offs. Natasha had given you a wolf whistle and you’d laughed as you give her the finger.

And hour and a half later with an easy grin on his face, carrying a case of beer and two big Ziploc bags stuffed with what you learned later were homemade cookies balanced on top, was Rooster.

You’ve had plenty of beach days with them but every time you saw him in those damn denim shorts he always seemed determined to wear, regardless of how impractical they were, your mind still went a little fizzy as you took in just how well they clung to his thighs.

He’d taken the ribbing from his squad in stride as he unboxed the beers and added them to the collection already chilling in Bob’s bright yellow cooler. You were trying- and failing- to read your worn paperback book when he’d surprised you by plopping his things next to yours on your oversized towel and stole a chunk of juicy watermelon off of the plate balanced on your lap.

“Hey, book worm,” he grinned as he popped it into his mouth, “How’s my favorite girl doing?” That smile of his getting bigger when you rolled your eyes at him.

“Hi, Rooster,” you’d said looking at him from over the top of your sunglasses with an amused smirk.

And if your cheeks felt warm, it was from the sun and not the teasing tone of his raspy voice.

When he’d shrugged off his shirt to apply the sunscreen you’d brought with him in mind, the wink he’d shot you went straight to your head like champagne. The sun highlighting his impressive abs and sculpted shoulders didn’t help either as he took great efforts to cover his chest and stomach with the lotion. He had to be doing it on purpose, because he’d kept rubbing it in well past when the white hue faded. But who were you to complain? Melanoma was no joke.

“You wanna help me out?” he’d asked turning his back to you, looking over his shoulder. You’re pretty sure that he’d been flexing because he’d looked impossibly broad, every defined muscle standing out for eyes to map out and explore.

You’d been at war with yourself, because while your eager hands were desperate to touch him, you also knew that once you ran your hands along his solid frame that you’d never want to stop. That you wouldn’t be content until your fingertips had traced every inch of him.

You had been blessedly and devastatingly spared the choice.

“I got you, Rooster. My hands are already all sunscreen-y,” chimed in Bob, who had just finished rubbing his own freshly applied layer. “Wouldn’t want it to get on her book.”

You were only half relieved to be off the hook, while Bradley on the other hand was still looking at you expectantly, almost hopefully, still with the white and yellow bottle of sunscreen partly extended towards you.

“That’s so sweet of you, Bob-” you’d started.

“Yeah, so sweet-” Bradley grumbled under his breath.

“I appreciate you sparing my pages the sunscreen grease,” you’d said shooting Bob a smile, choosing to ignore Bradley’s comment completely. “Plus, your hands are bigger than mine. You’ll have him covered in no time.”  

Bradley looked between you and Bob before he passed the bottle to the other man, shaking his head a little in defeat. You’d giggled to yourself as you wiggled your book at an openly brooding Bradley, and then leaned back on your elbows to observe the way the attentive WSO made sure to carefully and thoroughly cover Bradley’s entire back.

Respectfully, of course.

Behind your sunglasses you’d admired all of Bradley’s bulk compared to Bob’s lithe grace. But in your defense, they were standing right in front of you and you’d already reread your book at least five times in the past, so it wasn’t nearly as interesting as the scene in front of you had been.

“You look awfully comfortable over there,” Rooster called out with a raised eyebrow.

“Just taking in the view,” you’d teased back.

“Yeah, I bet you are,” he huffed as Bob finished up, giving him a thanks, man before tossing you back the bottle of sunscreen. He’d nudged his sunglasses down his nose and pinned you with his gaze, “Let me know if you want me to get your back. My hands are just as capable as his.” Even in the high heat of summer, the way he’d looked at you sent chills running along your arms.

You felt the way his keen eyes traveled from your face, down the deep-v of your swimsuit and along the swells of your breasts, and down your legs to your freshly painted toes. His mouth had ticked up in the corner then left you reeling and your heart pounding away in your chest as he’d strut off to go join Fanboy and Coyote by the mountain of snacks.

And that was the thing about Bradley Bradshaw. You never knew if he was just flirt-y or flirt-ing.

You hadn’t had a crush in ages, but when Nat had introduced you to her team five months ago, the man with the sunkissed curls and surprisingly attractive mustache had immediately caught your eye.

And as you’d gotten to know him, it had only gotten worse.

Not only was he very nice to look at and could make you laugh until your sides ached, but he also he had depth about him in a way that most men your age didn’t. You liked talking to him and listening to his stories. You liked learning his perspective on things. You liked being around him.

He made you feel interesting and special and funny and seen. You’ve never felt as comfortable in your own skin as you did when you were around him.

Rooster would send you flirty winks, give you less than subtle once overs, and could flash you such devastating slow grins that they’d have you trying to catch the butterflies they released in your stomach for hours after you went home.

But he’s never made a move.

If only he wouldn’t play hide and seek with his true intentions.

You felt like you were still waiting on some small clue whether he was serious or not. You didn’t know if he was just having fun with you or if he was into you and it was more than just friendly banter. It would be so much easier if he’d straight up tell you one way or another.

Needless to say, you’d let Nat be the one to help you with your sunscreen a little bit later. The idea of Bradley’s big hands on you, gliding along your sun-warmed skin and under the crisscross straps of your swimsuit, was too much for your hummingbird heart.

The sun climbed higher into the sky as the butter yellow midmorning transformed into a Midas-touched golden afternoon.

The squad had been able to reserve a fire pit and the plan had been to stay until the sunset. An endless summer day stretching out before them like a cat. They had nothing but time.

Clusters of people came together and split apart like a kaleidoscope as some went to take a dip in the ocean or raid the cooler and snack spread or go for a walk along the shore. Changing and shifting with the direction of the wind, going where the mood took them.

And for a peaceful moment, it had been you with your book and a napping Bradley sprawled out next to you on your towel with his arm flung over his eyes. Close enough that you could feel his warmth, almost but not quite touching. The sound of his soft breaths and the waves their own kind of lullaby as you contentedly read your book, turning your pages quietly to not disturb the man next to you, as the droplets of the Pacific dried on your skin.  

You still don’t know how you got roped into playing a round of dogfight football with the Navy’s best and brightest. You were more of a corn hole or ladder toss kind of girl, but Coyote had all but thrown you over his shoulder and dragged you out before you’d agreed to participate, conceding your defeat.

You were on a team with Hangman, Coyote, Fanboy against Nat, Rooster, Payback, and Bob. A few plays in and you had been getting the hang of it. They’d all been making sure to take care to go easy on you even in the chaos of two teams playing offensively and defensively at the same time. You were more than a little out of breath, but you were having fun.

Before the next snap, Mickey gave the most impassioned pep talk you’d ever heard, “Fuck luck, we don’t need luck. We gotta fucking win.” You had been about to laugh, but then you’d seen the looks on Jake and Javy’s faces and decided against it. Curious about the other team, you’d glanced over only to see Rooster looking back at you.

The calls had been made, the blur of plays in motion as people whirled and dodged and sprinted.

You’d just lobbed the ball to Javy before darting around Nat when a big, solid body collided with you. Hard. You’d felt the twinge of your ankle twisting in the sand right before the force sent you flying in the opposite direction you’d been headed.

The impact had been jarring. The air knocked from your lungs.

Where you should have been met with a mouthful of gritty sand, instead your head had connected with the rough surface of a partially buried rock. The low, thick thud reverberating throughout your whole body.

You’d been so stunned that you didn’t even register you were even on the ground until you heard the chorus of oh fucks and holy shits and goddamns and jesus christs over the ringing in your ears.

The game coming to an immediate and conclusive end.

For how many empty bottles and cans were sitting collected in a trash bag off to the side of your beach set up, they had been surprisingly quick to act as you blinked blankly, trying to clear the spots from your vision.

It was a silent ballet of efficiency as they instinctively fell into their roles, much like you imagined they did the sky. Everyone stepping up and then stepping back as they did their part, like the ebb and flow of waves.

Nat had carefully poured some fresh water from a bottle on your face to remove the sand that clung to the sweat and sunscreen on your skin. Then Jake had wordlessly passed her his clean spare shirt he’d jogged of to get to help stop the bleeding after Javy checked on your pupils to make sure they were the same size. While Bob stood off to the side holding your warped sunglasses in his hands, as if he was hopeful they could still be salvaged. Mickey and Reuben had been waiting in the wings giving you space, ready to help if they were needed, but not wanting to not crowd in.

And from the corner of your eye, you’d caught Rooster standing a couple feet away with his hands in his hair looking absolutely wrecked.

“Bradley?” you’d tried, even though his name stuck to your teeth. But he’d just shook his head at you before turning away slightly, like he couldn’t look at you, which made your heart sting as well.

They only allowed you to move to sit up after they were content with the answer to their questions- What day is it? Friday. Where are you? San Diego. What else hurts? My ankle and my pride.

It wasn’t until someone hauled you up from underneath your armpits that the throbbing and stinging and aching settled over you. The pain seeping and spreading through muscle and bone like an inky oil spill.

It’s still an almost perfect summer afternoon except for the fact you hate everything about this.

You hate the way they’re gathered around you with too many pairs of assessing eyes pinned on you. You hate that you’re the reason the game of dogfight football came to a definitive and abrupt end. You hate that you’re the reason their carefree and fun afternoon off has turned into this.

There’s a pressure building behind your eyes, the hot tears of hurt and frustration and embarrassment are clamoring to be released. You have to bite your lower lip to keep it from trembling.

And it doesn’t help that you’re the type who’d rather lick your wounds in peace.

You just need to get back to your car and you can figure things out on your own from there. You just need a moment to yourself.

As you open your mouth to argue your case again, Jake puts his hand up and stops you before you’ve even had a chance to start, “I hate to break it to you, sugar, but you’re not fooling any of us.” He says it gently, but gives you a pointed look at the way you’re leaning heavily on your right leg to keep the pressure off of your left ankle.

“That head wound is not a little scratch. Just like your ankle isn’t just a little puffy, when it’s twice the size it should be. You need to go to the Emergency Room,” Nat says, final and resolute. A lifetime of friendship has taught you not to argue when she has that look in her eyes, the one that says try me, I dare you.

They all talk over you as they figure out who is the most sober of the group after your suggestion to call yourself an Uber is immediately shot down. Drinks are being counted on fingers, and memories are searched to make sure every sip and bottle and can is accounted for.

Your eyes drift over to the man who is still actively avoiding looking at you, even as he talks to everyone else on the team. You aren’t paying too close attention to what he is saying, but you can hear the short, clipped staccato of his words.

Bradley’s shoulders are tinged a little pink even though you know for a fact that you had purposely passed him the 65 SPF. His eyes are hidden behind his dark green tinted sunglasses, but you don’t need to see them when you can read his body language better than any book.

His arms are crossed firmly over his chest, the tendons in his forearms flexing and shifting, like he is squeezing and releasing his fists from where they’re tucked under his biceps. Everything in his body looks coiled tight and strained, so at odds with the easy going and loose-limbed man you know him to be.

You don’t realize just how much you’ve zoned out until Natasha has to say your name a couple time before you pull your gaze away from Bradley and back to her.

“Ok, it’s settled,” Nat informs you, “Rooster’s going to take you.” You barely nod your head in acknowledgement when she tells you, because it feels like you’ve been punched in the stomach now too.

“It’s the least he can do,” Jake drawls.

“That’s not fair-” you start, defensively.

“Fuck off, Bagman-” Rooster snaps.

The rage in his voice shocks you, you’ve never heard that much heat from him before. There’s none of the teasing tone that usually underscores their banter. Jake puts both of his hands up placatingly like my bad, folks and Javy just shakes his head and sighs.

And this time when you look at Bradley, he is finally looking back at you with a deep furrow in his brow. His jaw is clenched tight, that muscle ticking and jumping, as he takes in the way you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your forehead.

Not exactly the way you’d hoped he’d be looking at you when you put on your new blue and white striped swimsuit this morning.

The one you’d bought because you wanted to make him look.

Just not like this.

With everything sorted the rest of the team trickles away a smattering of take cares and get better soons and let us know if you need anythings. But not before Mickey hands Rooster his stuff and passes Nat your bag and sandals. He gives you the gentlest of squeezes on your shoulder before he leaves to join everyone else back on little part of the beach you all had claimed before things went to shit.

Your group of eight now downsized to a trio.

Bradley is quick to roughly pull on his tank and shirt, and Nat fishes out your car keys from your bag as she waits for him to slip his shoes on. When he’s ready she passes it to him and he silently slides it over his arm.

Nat bends down to help gingerly glide your feet into your sandals, “I’ll grab the rest your things and drop them off at your place and then one of the boys will drop off your car later. We’ve got it all covered, ok?”

“Thanks, Nat,” you say quietly, trying to hold back a wince as she slips the left one on, your ankle pulsing in tempo with your heartbeat.

“Best friends don’t say thank you, they just do,” she says matter-of-factly as she stands. It’s the same thing you’d told her after you’d dumped a carton of strawberry milk on Carly Radke for outing Natasha your freshman year in high school. It was only time you’d ever gotten detention, but it had been worth it.

“They just do,” you repeat with a small smile.

You’re so grateful that your friendship with her is one that has spanned years. That you’ve been able seen one another grow and change and come into their own, but that you haven’t outgrown each other. She’s the person you want by your side and having your back. There is no one quite like Natasha Trace.

She turns to Bradley and you watch him stand a little taller under her sharp eyes, your straw tote still dangling from his forearm.

“You good?” Nat asks him with a look in her eye that you can’t place. And you’re reminded that even though she’s your best friend, that he has also earned a spot as one of her closest friends. Their relationship built over years and experiences that you could never fully understand. Different, but just as deep.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got her. I’ll take care of her,” Rooster promises with a stiff nod, as he gives her his word. It might have made your heart beat a little faster if you didn’t feel like such a burden. That it’s simply a twist of fate and three less drinks than everyone else for the reason that he’s the one to look after you. That he’s the one stuck with you.

“I know you will,” she says softer now, patting his shoulder, “Keep me posted.” Nat presses a kiss to your cheek and gives you an encouraging smile then heads off to go rejoin everyone else.

You watch her go with longing. The cheerful beach set up with its colorful blankets and umbrellas looks more like a desert mirage now. The sweet coconut scented potential of what the day could have been now forever out of reach.

And then it’s just you and Bradley and the sound of the waves and cries of seagulls.

The two of you silent and motionless.

You feel one wrong move and the fragile attempt of the stiff upper lip you’ve cocooned yourself in will crack open and all the soft parts of you will seep out into the sand beneath your feet.

His expression is shuttered closed as he bends a bit like he is going to pick you up.

“Woah, buddy, what are you doing?” You’re squinting into the sun as you look at him. You’d step into his shadow to block it, since you’re now in need of a new pair of sunglasses, but that would mean moving to the left which isn’t an option with your ankle.

“Buddy,” he grunts under his breath, slipping off his sunglasses and carefully putting them on your face, being mindful of stinging scrapes and wad of soft cotton you’re holding to your head. “They’re definitely going to have to run concussion protocol on you,” he mutters more to himself than to you, “I’m taking you to the Bronco and then we’re going the ER, remember?”

“Yeah, I know, Rooster,” you grit out, even rolling your eyes hurts, “But I don’t need you to carry me.”

Everything about this was excruciating and embarrassing enough without him being the Clark Gable to your Vivian Leigh. Maybe you could lean on him and hop over to his car? Like a six-foot-one pair of crutches with good hair.

“Take a step without wincing and I’ll think about it,” he says firmly, pointedly calling your bluff. There’s an expectant look of go on then, whenever you’re ready on his face. Because he knows he’s right, and you do too.

You don’t even bother to make a move, but the way your lower lips wobbles speaks volumes.

“That’s what I thought,” he says quietly, almost like pains him to be right.

He bends a little to hook his arms around your knees and back to lift you up, and this time you let him. Your free arm automatically wrapping around the back of his neck. And he starts off towards the winking windshields of the parking lot.

You’ve thought about what it would be like to be wrapped up in Bradley’s arms, how good it would feel to be pressed closed against him. And now you are and it’s nothing like you’ve imagined, because there isn’t anything sweet or swoon-worthy about how you ended up in them. You’re his duty, you’re not his desire.

All your sandcastle hopes have been washed away by the tide.

You’re so frustrated. You’re frustrated by the day, by yourself, by him.

This time you can’t blink back the tears that well up in your eyes. They flood through your tear ducts carving hot trails down your sun-tinged cheeks.

You want the Bradley from earlier. 

The one who stole your watermelon with warmth in his eyes.

The one who dozed next to you in the sun like a cat, his features soft free of the tension he now holds in his shoulders.

You want your Bradley.

The one who’d whispered cheeky comments in your ear whenever the team got into lighthearted tequila fueled arguments about things like whether a hot dog was a sandwich.

The one who’d always go up to the bar with you on busy nights at the Hard Deck and make sure you didn’t get bumped into on the way back to your friends with your freshly refilled drinks.

You’re aching, aching. Everywhere.

For a brief moment, as you swipe at your tears, you’re happy for the throbbing in your head and ankle, so that way you don’t have to think about the stinging in your heart.

“I know, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know you’re hurting,” Rooster says gentle and low as you sniffle, but you can hear the thickness of the words in his throat. The term of endearment is the sweetest of nothings, making your tears come faster. Where it should ease the heartache, all it does is make you angry at yourself for giving your emotions away. “We’re almost to the Bronco. It’s ok, we’re gonna get you taken care of, I promise.”

We.

You wanted that with him.

You want to press both of your hands to his cheeks to make him look you in the eyes to ask him is it going to be you and me together?  You’ve been a fool for love before, but you didn’t know if could take another hit-and-run with your heart.

The salt of your tears makes your cheeks feel tight and itchy as the summer breeze dries them on your skin.

Bradley carries you like you weigh nothing, but cradles you like you’re the most precious things he’s ever held. He’s mindful of any dips in the sand and gives wide berth around the college kids playing volleyball close to the entry back to the parking lot.

When he reaches the Bronco, he sets you down gently, making sure both of your feet are planted on the asphalt before letting go of you to unlock his car. He tells you to wait a moment when you move to open the passenger side door.

“I never know when I might get called up for an emergency deployment, so I like to have some extra clothes just in case,” he explains as he digs around in the backseat, pulling out a pair of gray athletic shorts.

“Oh.” And you realize you’re still just clad in your striped swimsuit. “Thank you for sparing me from the hospital germs,” you say lightly, an attempt at a joke to break the ice. One that doesn’t land, since instead of cracking a grin he just presses his lips together in a firm line and nods.

Bradley crouches low in front of you and you put a hand on his shoulder for balance as you lean against the Bronco, still trying to keep as much pressure off your left ankle as possible as you step into them. He’s looking up at you and even through his sunglasses perched on your nose, you swear his brown eyes get a shade darker as he eases the shorts up your legs. You’re touched by the effort as he ties the strings in a lopsided bow, even if things are feeling tense between the two of you.

“Think this’ll be easier,” he mumbles shrugging off his light blue button up. You’ve always liked this one, with its soft pastel pink and minty green watercolor prints of net fishermen and hula girls and palm trees.

He holds it open for you, helping you thread your arm through it, and then takes over holding Jake’s now ruined shirt to your head so that you can get your other arm past the sleeve. It smells like him, citrus and amber. Your fingers brush against each other when you reclaim the makeshift bandage, and he adjusts his shirt so that it hangs over your shoulders just right.

It’s an awkward kind silent as Rooster helps lift you into the Bronco with his strong hands around your hips. He is all smooth efficiency as he buckles you in with a click. You pass him back his sunglasses the same moment he hands you your tote bag, and it almost feels like a hostage exchange.

He says nothing as he hauls himself into the driver’s side. The car rumbles to life when he turns the key in the ignition and a cheery song from the 80’s station on the radio comes on. Bradley quick to turn the volume down low. His thumb brushing your shoulder as he sets his hand on the back of your seat to look behind him as he carefully backs out of the spot.

It’s never felt this strained with him before.

It’s so painfully obvious that the two of you are walking on eggshells around each other. You can almost feel the wall that’s gone up around him. The white noise of the radio drowned out by the hum of the road as he drives in near silence.

Your day has been most effectively ruined by a chunk of sedimentary rock, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still recoup what’s left of it.

He could still have the perfect summer afternoon.

He could still go back to your friends and their perfect beach set up and laugh with them as Coyote keeps accidentally setting marshmallows on fire. He could still catch the bold oranges and soft pinks of the sunset with all the satisfied contentment he deserved to experience.

“You can leave me and go back, you know. I’ll be ok if you just want drop me off and then head back to the beach,” you say looking down at your fingers as you trace the stitching of his leather seats.

When he doesn’t answer right away, you glance over at him. The vein in his neck is standing out boldly against the column of his throat.

“Do I seem like the kind of guy who would leave someone at the ER alone?” he asks, his voice rougher than sandpaper.

“No. No, of course not,” you say emphatically, “That’s why I’m giving you permission.”

“Permission?” he scoffs with a shake of his head.

“Yes, permission,” you say, clipped.

You’re giving him an out, why doesn’t he get that?

He heaves a big sigh and grunts. “Is it… Would you rather have Bob- with his big hands- here instead?” Bradley asks, frustration leaking out around the edges of his words.

“Bob with his big hands?” you repeat baffled, “What does Bob have to do with anything about this?”

“That’s what you said earlier, sweetheart. I’m just citing the source. Or I can call Phoenix? Or…” he pauses glancing at the t-shirt pressed to your head, “Or even Seresin. Once we get you checked in I can call any of them an Uber or something, and they can be there with you, if you don’t want me.”

“No, Rooster, I don’t want anyone else.” You wince at the implication and hope it doesn’t read into it further than the current situation to two of you are wading through like quick sand.

“Ok, good,” he grumbles.

“Great,” you lob back.

His hand tightens on the steering wheel, the knuckles turning white, “Then where is this even coming from?” The action makes his thick forearm flex in this most delicious of ways that you’d appreciate more if you didn’t feel the anger simmering low in your stomach.

“It’s pretty damn clear that you’d rather be back there, Rooster. Or literally anywhere else right now.” You flip down the sun visor with more force than it deserves, regretting that you gave him his sunglasses back when the bright California sun in your eyes turns your headache into a full-blown migraine.

“Of course, I’d rather be anywhere else!” he says hotly, tossing his sunglasses back in your lap, “Do you think I like that you’re hurt and that we’re on our way to the hospital?” You shove them on your face with an angry huff.

A car speeds by blaring their horn as they pass by.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Fuck off,” he grunts but speed of the Bronco doesn’t change, “Asshole.”

Bradley’s driving five miles under the posted limit, and you know for a fact he religiously drives at least ten miles over. And his turns have been smoother than butter, as if he is trying not to jostle you anymore than you’d already been today.

You are so tired of this hot and cold thing that he’s doing. His words and his deeds weren’t going hand in hand. He keeps giving you the cold shoulder, but is also so in tune with your every movement and need.

Gingerly, you angle yourself in your seat to look at him better, resting your tired left arm on the back of your seat and taking in his strong profile.

“Why are you being like this?” you demand, waving your free hand in a vaguely in his general direction.

“Like what? I’m not being like anything,” he retorts, making the same vague hand gesture as you did a moment earlier.

And oh, if that doesn’t fill your chest with hot indignation. That low simmering anger has turned into a full roiling boil as you shift in your seat trying to get your ankle in a position where it doesn’t hurt.

“Seriously, Rooster? I can feel tension rolling off of you in waves. You’ve been like this since everything turned to complete shit on the beach. I didn’t mean to ruin your day, I’m just trying to figure out how to make things better,” you bite out unable to keep things bottled up anymore.

He sucks in a sharp breath, “Are you kidding me right now? You think you ruined my day?” He glances from the road to you and back again, his brown eyes wide and searching.

“Yes?” Or so you’d thought until you’d seen the shock written all over his face, but now you weren’t so sure. It’s like you’ve dumped ice water on him instead of simply calling him out. “I feel like you’re taking it out on me and I don’t know why.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rooster swears under his breath, shaking his head. “I’m so damn sorry, sweetheart. I’m mad at myself, because I ruined your day.  I should have been more careful, I should have been looking out for you. It’s not like you’re hard to miss in that swimsuit.” Your cheeks heat up at the comment, but you choose to ignore it.

Misery drips from his words like spilled ink off a page. You knew he was upset, but you didn’t realize he was upset about that. That he’s shouldering this fluke of fate as if it is his burden to bear. Some of the anger you’ve been feeling leaves your body like the tide washing out back out to sea. You’re still upset at him for how he has been acting up until this point, but you’re not mad at him about that.

“Bradley, no. It was an accident.”

“Yeah, an accident I’m responsible for,” he says hoarsely, rubbing roughly at his forehead. “God, I can still hear the sound it made when you hit that rock and it makes me feel sick. I would give anything to undo that moment. I need you to know that.”

He is being so hard on himself and your heart squeezes, this time in sympathy rather than hurt. He didn’t place that rock in the sand, the both of you were victims of circumstance.

“It could have happened to anyone. It could have been anyone,” you press delicately, trying to get him to hear you, shifting in your seat again still uncomfortable.

The sunshine bounces off of his slumped shoulders as he sighs raggedly.

“But it happened to you and it’s my fault. You’re bleeding, you’re in pain, and you’ve been crying. And it’s because of me.” He reaches down with his right hand and lifts up your leg so that you can rest it on his thigh, some of the ache alleviating immediately. He asks quietly, “That better?”

“Yes, thank you,” you murmur. He looks so upset, and all you want to do is curl into his lap. You want to hold him and you want to be held by him. “You know I don’t blame you, right?”

You expect him to move his hand back to the steering wheel, but he keeps it on your leg. His thumb stroking your still slightly sandy shin. Your cheery toenail polish at odds with the color blooming around your ankle.

Bradley’s throat bobs as he swallows hard, “Yeah, I do. I know that. But I still blame myself.”

The Bronco rolls to a soft stop at the light. There’s enough traffic that you know you’ll be here for a bit, and so does he since he turns in his seat to look fully at you. You take his sunglasses off, tucking them into the pocket of his shirt that rests above your heart, so nothing stands between his brown eyes and yours.

“So, you’re going to keep beating yourself up over it and icing me out? Making me feel worse? For what, Bradley? Because you’re a glutton for punishment? That’s not fair to me or to you.”

“Shit,” he mutters, his left hand running through his curls. “You’re right and I’m so sorry. I’ve been in my head feeling so damn guilty that I’ve been such an asshole. Can you forgive me?”

You’re about to answer him that when a horn startles you, making you jump in the leather seat. You see the light is green, the car that had been in front of you is gliding through the intersection passing under a blue sign pointing the way to the hospital.

“Bradley, the light.”

The car behind the two of you honks their horn again.

“They can wait. This is important, you are important. Do you forgive me?” There’s an underscore of need that punctuates his question.

“Yes, of course,” you say easily and sincerely. There’s so much remorse in his eyes, you would have forgiven him with that look alone.

“Thank you,” he breathes out in relief. And then he smiles at you for the first time since the beach and that ache in your heart is completely soothed, bandaged by that soft way he is looking at you.

Atlas no longer, he can simply be Bradley.

He takes his foot off the brake and by some miracle he’s able to make it through the light before it turns red again. You can see the tall structure of the parking lot near the hospital poking out above the line of the treetops.

The destination is closer than ever, but there are still things on your mind.

“And you aren’t an asshole, Bradley. But your bedside manner could definitely use some work,” you tease with a smile of your own.

“Baby, I’ve been trying to show you my bedside manner, but you keep holding me at arm’s length,” he groans dramatically.

The idea of experiencing Bradley Bradshaw’s bedside manner makes you feel all kinds of weak in the knees, even as you’re seated in his Bronco with your leg propped up in his lap, his big hand skating up and down along your shin comfortingly.

“How can you even say that with a straight face? You’ve never made a move!” you exclaim incredulously, “I was even the one to ask for your phone number, if you remember.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I hit on you all the time,” he argues with your favorite brand of Bradshaw banter, “I’ve been waiting for you to give me the green light, sweetheart.”

“I thought you were supposed to be pretty and smart,” you smirk.

He barks a laugh and the last tendrils of all the tension and all the pressure that had been swirling around you like a marine layer evaporates.

“You saying I’ve had the green light this whole time?” He looks over at you with a boyish smile, you like the way you feel when he looks at you like this.

“What I’m saying, Bradley, is if you’d have actually asked me out I would have said yes.” You press your toes into the muscle of his thick thigh and immediately regret it, wincing as pain ripples around your ankle.

He makes a sympathetic sound deep in his chest, “Sounds like I’ve been an idiot.”

“A very pretty one,” you allow, leaning your aching head back against the back seat.

“At least there’s that,” he concedes good-naturedly as he pulls into the parking lot, turning on his blinker for a spot opening up near the entrance to the Emergency Room by some twist of fate, one that’s in your favor this time.

Bradley pulls into the empty spot and kills the engine turning to you. He gently eases your foot back down onto the sandy floormat of the Bronco and leans into unbuckle your seatbelt.

He’s so close now looking up at you from under his eyelashes, and your breath catches in your throat. He moves closer, you can see the bits of hazel that surround his pupils. Your eyes flutter close and you tilt your head up, lips parting at the anticipation of his kiss.

There’s no holding back the noise of dissatisfaction you make when his lips press a tender kiss to your cheek. You lean into him wanting to feel, wanting him to give you more. His warm breath coasts over your skin as he chuckles. You can feel the way his lips are pulled up into a smile.

“I’m a gentleman, sweetheart,” he says as he pulls away, his eyes lingering on your lips. “My mom raised me not to go for the kiss on the first date. Or ones with head wounds and potential concussions.”

“Some first date,” you lament jokingly, looking in at the fluorescent lights awaiting you inside the hospital. You’d rather skip over this part entirely, but you’re ready to be done with holding Jake’s shirt to your head. “Nothing like insurance cards and scrubs to really set the mood.”

“Mmm. How about this, after we’re done here, I’ll take you through whatever drive-thru you want-”

“In-N-Out,” you cut in without a second thought. The novelty of it still hasn’t worn off on you, even if the fries are terrible.

“Ok,” he grins, “I’ll take you through in In-N-Out and get you your number two combo with mustard and grilled onions with a vanilla shake.” He pauses waiting for your nod of approval, looking more than pleased with himself when you acknowledge he got your order right.

“I like the sound of this so far,” you hum.

“Well that’s good. Since it’ll be our first date, I want to set that bar high,” he says giving you a wink. And there are those butterflies again, this time you don’t try to catch them with a net. They’re free to flutter around as they wish.

“If you really want to impress me, you’ll also take me through the McDonald’s drive-thru for their fries,” you muse.

“Done.”

“I was kidding,” you laugh, shaking your head at him disbelievingly and thoroughly charmed.

“Well, I wasn’t. So after we get you fed, give or take some fries, I will bring you home. I’ll get you whatever you need, I want to make sure you’re comfortable. Think you might be on crutches for a bit, sweetheart,” he says softly, playing with the ends of your hair. “And then in the morning, if you’re up for it, I’ll take you out for breakfast. Or bring you breakfast. Whatever you want. We can call that date number two.”

“And then you’ll kiss me?”

“And then I’ll kiss you,” he promises, offering you a crooked pinky finger. You beam and you wrap your own around his.

He slips out of the driver’s seat leaving you to contemplate the terms of his offer as he rounds the front of the Bronco. The nurses are going to get an eyeful of him in only those snug jean shorts and thin white tank. You make a mental note to avoid looking at him if they have to connect you to a heart rate monitor, he doesn’t need to know the effect he has on you. Not yet anyways.

“I have counteroffer,” you announce turning your body towards him as he opens your door for you.

“Let’s hear it, baby,” he says with a grin that almost makes you forget how bad your head and ankle hurt, “Shoot.”

“We still go to In-N-Out, but then in the morning you make me breakfast in bed with some of those famous Bradshaw pancakes I’ve heard about,” you say, as he steps in between your legs, “Seems like a good way to work on that bedside manner of yours.”

“I think you’re going to like my bedside manner, sweetheart,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb over your cheek.

You tilt your head at him, taking in the sunkissed strands in his hair and the affection in his eyes, “I guess we’ll have to find out.”

“Guess we will,” he rasps.

Rooster drops another sweet kiss to your cheek, whispering for you to stay put, and then he struts off towards the automatic doors of the Emergency Room. Leaving you alone with the butterflies in your stomach and the hope in your heart.

You dig your phone out of your straw tote and check the time, doing the math in your head.

There are a few messages from Nat and other people on the team already checking in, but you know you’ll have time to reply to them later as you wait with Bradley sitting by your side.

You look up and see he’s got a wheelchair now and is making his way back to you, wearing a soft smile on his face just for you.

Only seventeen more hours until you get to kiss Bradley Bradshaw and you can’t wait.

You’ve got that forever feeling about him.

Oh, oh, oh.

Thank you for reading! Rock on. Oh that joke was schist, I'll see myself out.

This was written as part of @roosterforme's Rocktober Playlist! You can check out all the other great submissions here!

The song that inspired this story was Paula Abdul's "Straight Up"

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[kryptonitejelly]

Three times Jake takes on the role of your knight in shining armour. Jake Seresin x reader - I’ve imagined this in the Flyboy!universe but you don’t have to read that to read this.

College Flyboy

“12 o clock,” Jake hears you mumble into his ear as you reach up to circle your hands around his neck. Jake’s hands drop around your waist instantly, almost like a reflex as he cuts off from the conversation which he was having with the group of his teammates. They are used to it by now, Jake being distracted and dropping everything for you, so they pay him no mind, picking up easily from where he had left off.

“What am I looking at,” you can detect a current of concern, laced with a hard edge, as Jake’s eyes fan out to the background behind you, scanning over the cluster of faces in the bar to his 12 o clock direction.

“Guy in the blue shirt,” you say, hands still curled around his neck, your body taking a small shuffle until you are pressed flushed against Jake’s chest, “couldn’t shake him so I told him I had to get back to my boyfriend. Pretend, please.”

Your tone has a desperate quality to it, a sign to Jake that the blue shirt chump had been aggressive, likely he had been slimy as well.

“I got you,” Jake’s voice is almost a growl, as he catches sight of the said offender who sees you in Jake’s arm but continues to approach. He looks to be about a similar age range, but doesn’t seem to be from the same college as you both. Jake takes in the red tinge blossoming over the stranger’s cheeks, the wild look in his slightly bloodshot eyes - definitely not sober.

The stranger stops just behind you and opens his mouth to speak but is immediately cut off by Jake who simultaneously holds you tighter but doesn’t bother turning because by hell is he going to even allow the man to touch a single hair on your head. He feels your hands curl around the collar of his shirt as you turn your head to rest your cheek against his shoulder, your lips just ghosting the side of his neck. He identifies your attempt to get closer to him, to get safe, while playing into the ruse.

“Fuck off,” Jake is blunt, to the point and loud. Loud enough that it makes his teammates drop their conversation to collectively take in the sight that is unfolding. They don’t move to back Jake up because they know he’s got this, but they find themselves observing in case he does need back up. It isn’t the first time they’ve seen this happen, Jake playing the role of doting boyfriend to ward of unwanted male attention.

“Just wanted to see if she really had the boyfriend she conveniently pulled out at the last minute.”

“Seen enough?” Jake responds cooly, his gaze not leaving the other man’s. His hold on you doesn’t falter. Jake turns his head just slightly, gaze unwavering as he lets his lips brush the side of your head in an outward display of affection.

“Alright man,” the stranger holds both hands of in defeat, shrugging before walking away with an unsteady gait. His teammates resume their conversation, amused smirks on their face.

Jake doesn’t let you go until he has disappeared from sight, woven back into the crowd.

“He’s gone,” he says with a squeeze to your waist, but Jake doesn’t let go of you; not even when you unfurl your arms from around his neck. It causes you to be standing, body still flush against Jake, your hands resting lightly on his chest.

“Thank you,” you say before pressing a soft kiss to Jake’s cheek, and he finds thinking for a fleeting moment what would happen if he moved his head to capture your lips with his.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” is what Jake says before he finally lets you go.

-

Pre Flyboy

Jake hears it before he sees you. The uncomfortable fake laugh you throw out catches his attention one supermarket aisle away. It makes his brows furrow slightly and he turns on his heel to follow the sound of your voice, his search for cornstarch forgotten.

Jake’s eyes narrow as he catches sight of the problem - a man standing slightly too close to you, his gaze openly dropping down to the your ass which is clad in a pair of workout tights, tracing each of your curves.

“I know a fantastic coffee place near my apartment,” he leers openly, his gaze moving up your body to meet your eyes. Jake sees you attempting to inch away.

“Hey babe, I couldn’t find the cornstarch,” is what Jake says, loudly as he is beside you in a flash, his arm coming around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his side, all while placing himself as a human barrier between you and what he’s termed in his head to now be the grocery store pervert.

He sees relief in your eyes as you tuck yourself further into his hold by sliding your arm around his middle before tucking a palm into his back pocket

“You can never find the cornstarch,” is what Jake hears you say with a laugh as you look at him through your lashes with a look thats bordering on smitten - staged, he knows, but it makes his heart skip a beat.

“Help me?” He says as he begins to steer you away by your shoulders, but not before shifting both your bodies so that he is now positioned behind you, his hand on the small of your back, shielding you from further unwanted attention.

Jake throws a glance behind his shoulder, his green eyes steely and swirling with anger. He catches the eye of the grocery store perv who, taking in the way Jake’s biceps bunch under the sleeve of his t-shirt, has turned a shade paler than before.

“Thank you,” is what you say with a visible shudder as you both round the corner.

“Anytime darlin,” Jake says, his hand still on the small of your back while leaning towards you to let his lips brush against the side of your hair.

-

Post Flyboy

“Would you like to grab a coffee?”

“I don’t think so,” you say with a shake of your head and a polite smile.

“What about a drink another time?”

“I -,” you open your mouth to respond only to be cut off by a voice that carries your way. You turn to see Jake walking towards you, a coffee cup in each hand.

“Hey baby,” he says, too loudly, large smile on his face. Jake maintains the smile as he walks towards you, but you see his gaze dart fleetingly to the man beside you.

“Sorry,” you say, flashing the man a look. You don’t get a chance to see his reaction, or the moment he walks away because Jake reaches you, his lips meeting yours immediately in a kiss that borders on being just a bit too much for being in public on a Saturday morning.

“He was actually harmless,” you say when Jake finally pulls away from you. You let your eyes flicker open, face feeling slightly heated from the kiss.

“Mmm,” he hums, pressing a brief kiss to your forehead before handing you your coffee, “I quite like playing the role of knight in shining armour.”

[lewmagoo]

i will wait right here | b. bradshaw

description: in which four pilots find themselves in a hospital waiting room (requested)

warnings: angst, brief allusion to sex (no smut), illness (there’s a brief scene with vomiting lol), mentions of death, hurt/comfort

pairing/characters: bradley “rooster” bradshaw x nondescript f!reader, natasha “phoenix” trace, robert “bob” floyd, jake “hangman” seresin

notes: this is pretty self indulgent. also i might be projecting a bit here. y’know, with the constant need to be independent and put others needs before my own, even if it kills me. just eldest daughter things 🤪

Rooster had always said she was far too determined to be independent. 

It came from her deep, incessant need to prove to others, and herself, that she could take care of herself, and didn’t need anyone to fuss over her. 

“I’m fine,” she’d insist, “you don’t have to worry about me.”

Except, Bradley did worry about her. All the time, in fact. The fact that he was a mother hen was a running joke in their group of friends. But he was especially a mother hen toward her. When she assured everyone that she was okay, he could see right through it. He knew her well enough to know when she was not okay. And he was pretty good about helping her when she needed it. 

But in turn, she was good at evading his help. She didn’t want to be a burden. Although Bradley insisted that she wasn’t, there was part of her that always doubted that. She’d spent her entire life proving she didn’t need anyone to lean on. 

But one day, that stubborn determination of hers would cost her. 

It had all started with a migraine. 

She woke up to the splitting headache, and groaned in protest at the sunlight streaming in through the blinds. Bradley was beside her, one brawny arm slung over her waist. He felt her tense, and he shifted, lifting his head from the pillows. 

If she hadn’t been in so much pain she would have marveled in adoration at his sleep rumpled hair and the imprint of the sheets creased on his cheek. 

“Mm, mornin’, baby. You alright?” 

“Fine,” she mumbled. “Just have a headache.” 

Bradley buried his face against her shoulder, pressing a kiss there. His mustache prickled at her skin. “‘s probably about time to get up, hm?” 

“Probably.” She closed her eyes, trying to hide from the light. 

Finally, the man beside her sat upright, stretching out his torso, followed by a few pops of readjusting joints. “I’ll get the coffee going. Maybe it’ll help your headache.” He left another kiss, this time to her temple, before he slipped away, leaving her in the silence of her bedroom. 

Again, if her head wasn’t threatening to explode on her, she might have admired the view of his peachy ass as he bent to tug on his boxers. Instead, her eyes remained half closed, and all she saw was his retreating shadow as he made his way out to the kitchen. 

With a deep sigh, she attempted to sit up, but as she did so, an unbearable rush of pain flooded her head. She let out a hiss, reaching up to gently hold her head in her hands, lessening the throb as she slowly sat up the rest of the way. 

“Fuck, I don’t remember drinking that much last night.” In fact, she’d hardly been drunk at all. She and Rooster had shared a beer the night before, and had promptly after fallen into the sheets together. Her head certainly hadn’t been hurting then. All she remembered was all-encompassing pleasure. 

So sometime between their evening escapades and now, a migraine had sunk its sharp claws into her skull, and wouldn’t let go. 

She fumbled to open her nightstand drawer, retrieving a bottle of headache medication she kept there. Using the glass of water that was a permanent fixture on the nightstand, she swigged the pills back and hoped for the best. 

After taking a moment to physically prepare herself to get up for the day, her feet hit the floor. Mechanically, she pulled on the nearest article of clothing, which happened to be Bradley’s well-worn Navy t-shirt. 

Then she made her way out to the kitchen. The light was brighter in there, and she squinted in discomfort. As she took a seat at the table, a mug full of fresh coffee was placed in front of her. She didn’t have to question how it was made. Bradley knew exactly how she liked it. 

“I’ll be pretty busy these next few days,” he mused as she took a sip of the coffee. “Got those intense training exercises I told you about. I probably won’t be able to come home as often, at least not until the weekend.”

“Hope it goes well,” she managed, letting her eyes fall shut. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” His husky voice brought her back to the present, and when she opened her eyes, she found his warm ones staring back at her, flooded with concern. 

Despite herself, she gave him a small smile. “Yeah, don’t worry about me.”

“I always do,” came his response. He kissed the top of her head. 

He soon excused himself to get ready for the day, while she sat at the table and gently massaged her temples. She was thankful she didn’t have Bradley’s job, which required him to be at work bright and early. Instead, she worked at the Hard Deck, and her shift didn’t start until later that afternoon. She hoped her headache would settle down by that point. 

By the time she rose from the table to deposit her empty coffee cup into the sink, Bradley was already dressed and ready to head out the door. He kissed her cheek as he walked by, stopping at the entryway to lace up his boots. 

“Bye, baby. I’ll call you later if I have time. Love, love.”

Then he was gone before she could register what had taken place. She sighed into the quietness of her home. Normally, she would’ve been a more active participant in bidding him farewell. Especially if she wasn’t going to see him for a few days. But she simply didn’t have the wherewithal to do so. 

Instead of fretting over her less than enthusiastic goodbye, she headed right back to bed, hoping she would wake up and find her headache gone. 

She did wake up many hours later. However, her headache was still raging behind her eyes, like churning storm clouds. Not to mention, the bedroom was considerably darker than it had been when she went to sleep. 

“Oh, shit,” she cursed. She sat up quickly, regretting it immediately when her head began to pound and spots appeared in front of her eyes. She took a moment to pull herself together before she reached for her phone. To her horror, she found that it was 2100 hours. She’d slept until 9 pm. That meant that she was four hours late to her shift at the Hard Deck. 

Her phone screen displayed a few missed calls from Penny, and a few from another bartender, Samantha. She let out a frustrated moan, lowering her head to her hands. She couldn’t believe that she’d managed to sleep late enough to miss a whole shift of work. 

She felt awful, and she was quick to type an apology to Penny. 

Hey Pen. I am sooooo sorry I stood you up like that. I’m not feeling well and I laid down for a bit, but ended up sleeping way too late. I woke up just a few minutes ago. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.

She hit send and hoped for the best. Penny was understanding, so she wasn’t worried about the possibility of losing her job. But she still felt terrible about it, and vowed to make things right. 

However, the excruciating pain still piercing through her skull soon took precedence over her guilt, and she whimpered, lowering herself back down against the bed. 

She’d had headaches and migraines before, but they were few and far between, and none of them had ever been as bad as this. It was a constant, thrumming ache that distracted her from all coherent thought. 

She was surprised when tears sprang to her eyes. It pushed her to reach back into her nightstand and take another dose of pills. She hoped and prayed that this time, they would work, and she’d be able to go about her normal, day to day life soon. 

As she curled back under the covers and placed a pillow over her head, she found herself wishing that Bradley was there to hold her and possibly help soothe the pain. She imagined his big, warm hands gently cradling her head, keeping the pounding at bay. 

She was tempted to call him, but she wasn’t sure if he’d answer. When he was in training mode, he had a tendency to be pretty reclusive. Instead of coming back to her apartment, he’d stay at his place on base, because it was closer, and gave him the opportunity to come straight home and collapse into bed at night right away. 

But tonight was one of those nights where she longed for him. He always knew what to do to make her feel better. Now she was all alone and in utter misery. But, she’d always pushed through everything life threw at her, and this was no different. She’d simply have to bite the bullet and get through it. She had never needed anyone before. She didn’t figure she needed them now. But oh, how wrong she was. 

She drifted back to sleep that night, the pain lulling her into a fitful slumber. When she woke the next morning, the room was still too bright for her sensitive eyes, and her head seemed to ache even more so, if at all possible. 

It took her quite a few moments to work up the nerve to rise from the bed. Yet again, she held her head in her hands, and had to pause for a moment as the room began to spin around her. It should have been her first clue that something was horribly wrong, but she was stubborn, and was sure that this would pass soon. 

Another dose of Excedrin was downed, and she forced herself out of bed. However, on her way down the hallway, she grew dizzy, and the unsteadying pain sent her careening into the bathroom, crashing to her knees just in time to vomit into the toilet. 

She hadn’t eaten in over 24 hours, she realized, so there was hardly anything to expel. Finally, with her whole body trembling, she calmed down. She managed to reach a hand up to the sink to hoist herself from the floor, and when she looked in the mirror, she realized just how sickly she appeared. 

There was no way she’d be able to go to work like this. So, she regretfully called Penny. 

The first words out of the woman’s mouth were, “are you okay?”

“Hi. Yeah, I’ll be alright. I’m so sorry about last night. When I woke up I couldn’t believe I’d slept that late.”

“I understand, it happens. Will you be able to work tonight?” 

“I don’t think so. I’m sure I’ll feel better by tomorrow.”

“Well if you aren’t feeling well tomorrow, don’t feel like you need to come in. You should rest up,” Penny warned. 

“It’s Friday. I don’t want to leave you high and dry on such a busy night.”

“You won’t be a help to me if you’re sick, hon. So please, get some rest and only come in if you’re feeling up to it.”

“Okay, okay. I will. Thanks Penny.”

“Of course. Take care of yourself.”

When the call ended, she let out a weary sigh, leaning her weight on the sink. That two minute phone call had zapped her of any energy she might’ve had left. Her head throbbed in protest, and she let out a whimper as she squeezed her eyes shut. 

Her phone vibrated in her hand and she looked down to find that it was a text from Bradley. 

Sorry I haven’t been able to call you. Might be able to talk tonight, if you want. Love, love.

She didn’t have the energy to respond. Instead, she dragged herself back out into the hall and toward the kitchen. She could only muster the strength to unpeel a banana and eat it. Anything else proved to be too difficult of a task. 

The rest of the day carried on that way. She was lethargic and miserable. Medication did nothing to soothe her poor, aching skull. She was left to sprawl out on the couch and keep her head nestled against a throw pillow. 

She dozed off throughout the day. Bradley texted her again later that afternoon. She didn’t hear the phone vibrate. Sometime in the late evening, she became aware of the fact that her body was warm all over. Somehow, she managed to stumble to the bathroom and rifle through the medicine cabinet over the sink for a thermometer. 

When she pulled the device out of her mouth, it read 102°F. “Fuck,” she sighed. Concern grew in the pit of her stomach. She wasn’t sure what to make of a crushing headache paired with a fever. She had no other familiar symptoms like a congestion or a sore throat. This was entirely foreign to her. In hindsight, she would realize that not going to the hospital right away was the most foolish mistake she could ever make. 

Lucky for her, a certain knight in shining armor of sorts would be coming to her rescue. 

Before turning in for the night, she popped a few ibuprofen to bring the fever down, and headed straight to bed again. She left her phone on the living room coffee table, where it remained the rest of the night, going unanswered when Bradley tried to call her. 

When she didn’t answer, he grew concerned. It wasn’t like her to forego a nighttime phone call from him. That, paired with the unanswered texts he’d sent her earlier, gave way to an odd sort of nagging in the back of his brain, like something was wrong. 

The next morning, just before heading out for the last day of training before the weekend, he tried calling her again. It went straight to voicemail without even ringing. He pulled the phone from his ear and stared at it, brow furrowed in obvious worry. 

“Everything okay?” It was Phoenix’s voice. She was good at reading Rooster’s tells. He looked tense with worry, which compelled her to ask what was going on. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “My girl isn’t answering my calls. She normally always answers.”

Phoenix offered a reassuring smile. “Maybe she’s still asleep?” She suggested. 

“Maybe, but she didn’t answer last night either. Phe, I’ve just got this weird feeling that something’s wrong.” 

Her face softened, and she stepped closer. “Maybe you can—” but before she could finish her sentence, she was interrupted by an abrupt, “Admiral on deck!” Prompting everyone to stand at attention, conversations forgotten. 

Back at home, a very delirious, fever-ridden girl was just stumbling out of bed. When her feet touched the floor, it felt like her limbs were made of lead. She moaned in discomfort, and barely made it upright before she had to grip the bed post and steady herself. 

She was able to make it to the bathroom, but when she got there, her sickness-addled brain forgot why she’d even stepped into the room in the first place. But the tile was cool under her feet, and she decided it would be a good place to cool down. So, she lowered herself to the floor and sprawled across the cold tile. That’s where she would remain the rest of the day, fading in and out of consciousness.

Bradley tried to remain stoic as he went about his job, but he was teeming with anxiety. Something was wrong, he was sure of it. And because of this, he wasn’t on his A-game during training. It prompted a few smartalec comments from Hangman, who was surprised when Rooster didn’t reciprocate any sharp verbal jabs. 

By the time evening rolled around, even he was slightly worried, because it wasn’t like Bradley to be so distant. As they all walked out together that evening, Hangman fell into step beside Phoenix. 

“What’s with Bradshaw today?” He asked, voice low. 

“Something’s wrong with Bradshaw?” An eavesdropping Coyote piped up from just behind the pair. 

“Shh! Not too loud,” Hangman insisted, waving his hand in a be quiet motion. 

Natasha glanced at him through her peripheral before quickly explaining why Bradley was acting so off. 

“Shit, really?” Then he looked up, catching sight of the other pilot up ahead before he jogged over to him. “Everything alright, Bradshaw?”

He raised a brow. “Why do you ask?”

“Phoenix said something might be going on with your girl. Do you want me to go with you to check on her?” He was genuinely offering. Bradley’s comrades had all come to love his sweet girlfriend, so much so that they were very protective of her, and would do all they could to prevent any harm from coming to her. 

Bradley hesitated. “I’m gonna head over to the Hard Deck first. Find out if Penny’s seen her.”

And that’s how Penny Benjamin came face to face with a group of very concerned pilots, huddling around her bar with expectant looks on their faces. 

“What’s going on?” She asked. 

Bradley stepped forward, and realization dawned across Penny’s features when he asked if she’d seen his girlfriend. “She’s been sick the last few days. I tried calling her today and there was no answer. You should probably go—” but before she could finish her sentence, the sandy haired aviator was already turning on his heel and rushing out of the bar. 

“Roos! We’re coming with you!” Phoenix called, hot on his heels. 

“You don’t need to—” but when he turned around to protest, he found his friends staring back at him. Bob, Phoenix, and Hangman had decided that out of the whole group, they were going to be his wingmen, so to speak, as he went to find out what was going on. He realized that telling them no was a lost cause, so he sighed, relenting. 

They all squeezed into Bradley’s Bronco, and soon, a gaggle of pilots was leaving base to go check on their comrade’s girlfriend. Maybe they were all overreacting, but they were concerned, and just wanted to help out. 

“When was the last time you talked to her?” Bob spoke up from the backseat, question directed at Bradley. 

“Uh…the day I left for training. I usually don’t have time to call her the first day or two so we didn’t talk for a couple days.”

“Penny said she called in sick, right? I’ve never known that girl to miss a day of work, like, ever,” Hangman, who was sitting shotgun, mused. 

“Was there anything out of the ordinary when you left?” It was Natasha’s turn to ask a question. 

“I don’t think so. We woke up, and then…” He trailed off for a moment as he realized one very important detail. “Oh, shit. She said she had a headache. I noticed she was acting kind of off but she insisted she was fine.” He sighed in frustration, shaking his head. “Fuck, what if it was something life threatening?”

Phoenix’s eyes widened. “Hey, let’s not jump

to conclusions yet. We’ll see what’s wrong when we get there.”

They arrived in no time, thanks to Bradley going over the speed limit. As soon as they reached the apartment complex, they were all rushing inside. Her apartment was situated on the sixth floor. The elevator ride up was the longest few minutes of the four aviators lives, it felt like. 

When the doors slid open, Bradley was the first one out, already reaching into his pocket to retrieve the apartment key. He realized his hands were shaking as he tried to insert the metal into the lock. His chest was tight with anxiety, an awful sense of dread weighing heavily on his shoulders. 

He imagined the worst, picturing the love of his life dead, helpless and alone. It sent a jolt of panic through him, and it was as if he couldn’t get the door open fast enough. He prayed to whoever was listening that he hadn’t lost the most important thing in his life. 

Once he got the door open, the four of them stumbled through. The apartment was dark, and it sent alarm bells off in Bradley’s mind. He called out her name, but his voice sounded foreign to his own ears. 

The other three set about searching the apartment, calling her name. Bradley’s feet were heavy as he followed after them. Jake stepped into the bedroom and flipped on the light. They were all met with the sight of an empty bed. 

Bradley knew there was only one other place to look. Fear bloomed to life in his chest, and his hands trembled as he turned, stepping down the hallway and pausing outside the closed bathroom door. He grabbed the knob, only to find that the door was stuck. The creaky old door had a tendency to latch itself at the worst times. It was something Bradley had been meaning to fix, but had never gotten around to it. 

Before bursting into the bathroom like a madman and risking embarrassing her, he knocked first. “Baby? Are you in there?” He called. He was met with silence. 

“Is it locked?” Phoenix asked. 

“It’s stuck. Sometimes we gotta use force.” Then, he looked back, motioning for the trio to step aside as he stepped backwards to gain some momentum. 

He threw his weight against the door. It groaned, almost as if in protest. Again, a broad shoulder was slammed into the wood, and this time, a splintering sound could be heard. One more display of force, and it flew open, fast enough that it slammed against the bathroom wall inside. 

He reached for the light switch, and when he flipped it on, he was met with a sight that sent his blood running cold. “Oh my god.”

He rushed into the bathroom, falling to his knees beside the prone form of his girlfriend. He was almost hesitant to touch her, for fear of finding her skin cold as ice. 

In fact, Bradley froze. He knew he needed to be springing into action, needed to check her pulse, make sure she was alive. But his hands felt heavy as iron, and he couldn’t move. 

The one who finally acted was Bob. He was quick to kneel beside Rooster, reaching out to gently turn the girl and press his fingers to her pulse point. His eyes widened when he realized how warm she was. 

“She’s alive,” he assured the man beside him, “but she’s burning up. We need to get her to the hospital right away.”

The word hospital snapped him to attention. He met Bob’s worried gaze, and nodded. “We can take her there ourselves, it’ll be faster.” Bradley leaned over her body, carefully lifting her into his arms. He almost shied away at just how warm her body was. She was consumed with fever. 

“I’ve got you, baby,” he whispered as he rose to his feet. Then he looked up to find the grim faces of Jake and Natasha. All Bradley had to do was nod and they were all heading back out of the apartment. 

In no time, they were back outside. “I’ll drive,” Jake offered. “Keys, Bradshaw.” He held his hand out. 

“Not a chance,” Phoenix cut in, stepping forward to reach into Rooster’s left pocket, where she’d seen him shove the keys into earlier. 

Under normal circumstances, Hangman would’ve argued, but not now. It didn’t matter who drove, as long as they got to the hospital. He simply rolled his eyes and instead opted to open the back door so Rooster could climb inside. 

The moment everyone was settled, Phoenix was heading off toward the hospital. The interior was somber and quiet, each pilot sick with worry over the girl Rooster held in his arms. 

He cradled her close, reaching up a hand to brush her hair out of her face. “Can you hear me, sweetheart?” He whispered. He hoped she could. “Just hang on, alright? We’re gonna get you some help.” And then, more quietly, “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.” It would be something he’d beat himself up over for a long time. 

“You couldn’t have known,” Bob softly spoke up from beside him. 

“I knew something was wrong when she didn’t respond to my texts or calls. I should’ve taken that as a sign to go check on her.”

The bespectacled lieutenant shook his head, and there was nothing but kindness in his face. “You can’t play the blame game, Rooster. It’ll drive you mad.”

He was right, after all. But that didn’t stop Bradley from silently beating himself over the fact that he hadn’t been there when the love of his life needed him most. He imagined her all alone, unable to call for help, and it gutted him. I should’ve been there. I should’ve found a way. 

When the Bronco finally came to a stop outside the emergency room, all of them got out. The poor receptionist running the desk looked up to find four frantic pilots staring back at her. One of them held a girl in his arms and he looked about ready to fall to his knees.

“P-please, she needs help,” he croaked. 

A flurry of activity took place around the group. Someone reached out to take his entire world from his arms. He almost didn’t want to let her go, and subconsciously, his grip tightened on her. But he was surprised when Jake’s hand landed against his chest, his voice in Bradley’s ear, saying, “let ‘em take her. They’ll take good care of her.” And he finally let her go.

As she was wheeled away, the group watched helplessly. It might’ve looked humorous to a random passerby. Four of the Navy’s best aviators, rendered to nothing more than a concerned, anxiety ridden mess. 

They were told to retire to the waiting room, and that a doctor would be out eventually to inform them of what was going on. 

That’s where they found themselves. Hangman was sitting on the window sill, staring out into the dark parking lot. Rooster was pacing back and forth, enough to wear a hole in the linoleum. Phoenix sat sideways in one of the chairs, her legs slung over the uncomfortable wooden arm. Bob sat on the other side of her, face sullen as he stared down at his feet. 

Bradley felt like he was going insane from not knowing. He kept raking his fingers through his hair, hard enough that it hurt, but he didn’t care. His chest was tight with fear. He just wanted answers. 

He didn’t know what he’d do if he lost her. The thought was unimaginable. Had he really come this far, and finally let someone in after years of living as a lone wolf, only to lose her in the end? The thought alone almost drove him to his knees. 

Bob, ever the empath, looked up to find Bradley distraught, and his heart ached. He stood, moving to step in front of the other man. Bradley looked back at him, and finally, he broke. He leaned forward, and Bob pulled him into a hug, allowing him to cry silently against his shoulder. 

Then, he was joined by Natasha, who wrapped her arms around both men. From the window sill, Jake gazed at the teary-eyed trio, and he let out a dramatic sigh as he rose to his feet and joined in on the group hug in the middle of the hospital waiting room. 

“Group hugging you three idiots is not how I imagined spending my Friday night, yet here we are,” he piped up, totally ruining the emotional moment, but pulling a laugh from each of them. Even Bradley, who smiled despite himself. 

“Leave it to you to ruin a good moment, Bagman,” Natasha teased, shoving at his chest. 

After playfully pushing her hand away, the blonde looked at Bradley, his face now sober. “For what it’s worth, I hope she pulls through.”

The other man gave him a nod. “Thanks, Seresin.”

They all parted, and this time, Rooster was able to take a seat, settling beside Bob. He’d always been friendly with the guy, but now, in the midst of the turmoil he was experiencing, Bob was a quiet, calming force, and it was helping Bradley through this moment more than he could say. 

Again, the waiting room drifted into somber silence as they all nervously awaited information. Minutes passed by, and soon, minutes bled into an hour and a half. 

Rooster finally stood up, legs sore from sitting for so long. “Goddammit, what’s taking so long?” He huffed, hands clenched into fists at his sides. 

He was heavily considering storming up to the front desk to demand answers, but Natasha stopped him, gentle hand on his shoulder. “Hey, let me,” she quietly offered. 

He nodded, and she slipped away, making her way up to the desk to inquire about his girl’s status. The receptionist had no definitive answers, and a forlorn Phoenix made her way back to the boys, shaking her head. They all groaned in frustration.

“How about I get us all something from the vending machine?” She offered. That seemed to catch their attention, and a few minutes later, she was returning to the waiting room with an armful of snacks and bottled drinks. Everyone took what they wanted and went back to moping about, this time with food in hand. 

Finally, a doctor walked into the waiting room. She didn’t have to look very far. There was a group of very despondent pilots sitting in the middle of the room. One of them, a blonde one, perked up at the sight of the doctor, and he reached out, tapping another one, a mustached young man, on the shoulder.

Mustache popped out of his seat, whirling around. His eyes were wide, face awash with fear as the doctor approached. The others stood up as well, waiting expectantly, and forming a bit of a protective group around him.

“Which one of you is Bradley Bradshaw?”

Mustache weakly raised a hand. “I am.” His voice nearly failed him. 

The doctor stepped forward. “You did the right thing, bringing her in when you did. A few hours longer and she very well could have passed away.”

All four pilots breathed a sigh of relief at the realization that she was alive. “What’s wrong with her?” Bradley asked, dark eyes swirling with concern.

“We ran some tests and it appears that she has a rare type of bacterial infection. It caused the extremely high fever. It doesn’t pass from person to person, so none of you are at risk of contagion, if you were worried about that. We’ve been able to get her fever down partially, and we started her on antibiotics. We’ll be keeping her for a few days to monitor her symptoms and make sure she doesn’t get worse.”

“Is she awake?” 

“No sir, not yet. What she needs is a good night of rest. I’d imagine she’ll be more herself tomorrow, once the antibiotics start doing their job. She’s being sent up to a room as we speak.”

“Can we see her?” The blonde one asked. 

The doctor eyed the group warily. They were all chomping at the bit to see the sick girl, and frankly, it was adorable. However, visiting hours were long past over. Even so, she was torn. She let out a sigh, staring back at their hopeful faces. “Look, visiting hours are over. I can’t let all of you go up there. But I will make an exception for Mr. Bradshaw here, since she’s his partner. The rest of you will have to head home and come back at 0800 hours.”

The disappointment was visible on all their faces, but they were respectful, and didn’t put up an argument. Once the doctor finished up her required spiel and dismissed herself, the group of friends turned to Rooster. Another group hug was had, and they all shared in the relief that everything was going to be okay. 

“Text us as soon as she wakes up,” Natasha instructed as she handed Bradley his car keys back. “We’ll be back tomorrow morning with breakfast.”

He looked at each of his comrades, hardly able to express his thanks for their support. “Thanks for waiting with me, guys. Made me feel less alone.”

“We’ll always be there for you, whenever you need us,” Bob spoke up with a smile. 

Rooster lurched forward and pulled him into another hug. “You’re a good guy, Bobby. Thanks,” he murmured. 

“Alright, alright, cut the sap. My teeth are about to rot out of my head,” Hangman cut in. 

The two men parted, and Jake stepped over to clap Bradley on the back. “Now get outta here and go see your girl, Bradshaw.” 

“Aye, aye sir,” he replied with a mock salute. 

He watched his friends head out of the waiting room and into the night, Phoenix and Hangman already lightheartedly bickering about something. Probably how they were getting home for the night. Bob shook his head in quiet annoyance, turning back to give Rooster one last wave before they all disappeared outside. 

Finally, Bradley turned on his heel and made his way to the elevator. Now that he was alone, his mind threatened to overwhelm him. All the anxiety he’d been trying to keep at bay came rushing to the surface, and his hand trembled as he pressed the button. 

It felt like an eternity before the doors finally slid open. He stepped inside and rode up a few floors. He was able to obtain her room number from the front desk after assuring them Dr. Holt had said it was okay for him to stay. Nobody had the heart to tell him otherwise, not with that look of fear written all over his face, which made him look younger than he was. 

When he was able to step into her room, the sight he was met with knocked the wind out of him. Yes, he’d seen her half conscious on the bathroom floor hours earlier, but this was different. She was hooked up to different machines, and there was an IV in her arm. 

He was overcome with longing. Longing to take her body into his arms and protect her from all harm. Longing to make her pain and sickness go away. It was times like these when he wished he was God, just a little bit. But he was a mere man, and didn’t have the power to do the things the Almighty did.

Instead, he made his way over to her bedside, and sank down into the uncomfortable chair nearby. “Hey, sweetheart,” he whispered, reaching out to take her hand in his own. “You scared the hell out of me. I thought…I thought I was going to lose you.”

Tears blurred his vision, and he closed his eyes. swallowing them back and instead opting to say something more positive. “Everyone else was scared, too. You should’ve seen them. Even Hangman was worried, if you can believe it.”

He squeezed her hand thrice. I. Love. You. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to you sooner. I should’ve known something was up when you didn’t answer my texts. I just hate the thought of you needing help and no one being there.”

He could see it so clearly in his mind’s eye. A picture of her. Sick, delirious from fever, entirely alone. It made his heart lurch in his chest. “But, I’m here now, baby. And I’m not gonna leave your side until you open those pretty eyes of yours.”

True to his word, Bradley didn’t leave her side once through the night. He situated himself in that vinyl chair and slept in an uncomfortable position that would be sure to leave a crick in his neck, but it was worth it as long as he got to be near her. 

When light began to peek through the clouds, Bradley woke, his bleary eyes settling on the girl who still remained still beside him. 

“Morning, baby,” he hummed, reaching out to bring her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. His thumb rubbed comforting circles into her skin. 

In the wee morning hours, just before the morning nurse came in, Bradley cherished the moment of peace he had with the woman he loved. 

He held her hand and silently prayed that she would come back to him. And she did. With the dawning of a new day, she slowly opened her eyes, and in turn, Bradley’s own filled with tears. 

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he assured her, leaning in close. 

When her vision focused, she found the face of a very relieved Bradley Bradshaw staring back at her. His deep umber eyes were brimming with unshed tears, but they quickly made their way down his cheeks. 

She was quiet as she oriented herself. It was clear that she was in the hospital. But she had no recollection of how she got there. The last thing she remembered was getting out of bed and heading to the bathroom. 

“Wh-what happened?” She croaked. His hand tightened comfortingly around hers. 

“You were really sick. We found you unconscious at the apartment.”

“We?”

“Yeah, uh, me, Phoenix, Bob, and Hangman. They helped me get you to the hospital.”

She shifted a little, and realized the crushing headache that had been plaguing her the last few days was gone. “How long have I been here?”

“Since last night. They got you on some antibiotics and brought your fever down.”

She looked at him again, gazing into his kind, concerned face. “Is this the part where you play mother hen and scold me for not asking for help sooner?” There was a smile playing on her lips. 

Bradley raised his brow. “Actually, yes. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was just a headache, nothing worth bothering you over. I figured I’d take some Excedrin and feel better in a few hours. But a few hours turned into a few days, and then I was out of my mind with fever.”

The man sighed. “Well, I should’ve known something was up when you didn’t answer your phone. That’s when I should have sent Penny to check on you.”

“Hey, don’t blame yourself, sweet man. I’m okay now, you don’t need to beat yourself up.”

“I always do,” he countered. He was right about that, he had quite the tendency to get too far into his own head and berate himself for things. 

Then he sobered, eyes meeting her own. “Finding you like that…it was one of the scariest moments of my life. I froze up. It was like my body couldn’t move. I was fucking terrified.” His gaze lowered to their joined hands. “Bob was the one who kinda got the ball rolling and helped me snap out of it. That guy is something else.”

She smiled softly. “Remind me to thank him, then,” she said. 

“You should thank all three of them. They stayed with me in the waiting room the whole time. I don’t know what I would’ve done without them.”

Her heart was touched at the loyalty of their friends. “When I get out of here we can take them out as a thank you.”

Rooster mirrored her smile. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.” 

Their private moment was soon interrupted as a nurse walked into the room. He took that as a sign to excuse himself and text the three pilots who just so happened to already be waiting outside the hospital, eager to come inside and visit.

“You think she’s awake yet?” Jake questioned as they stood around Natasha’s car. 

“I don’t know, Rooster didn’t say anything yet,” she replied. 

“Guys, he just did,” Bob spoke up, holding up his phone. Both of them looked at their own phones, and sure enough, there was a text from Bradley. 

She’s awake :) we’re in room 315

The trio all exchanged looks, smiles on their faces. “One minute ‘til visiting hours start,” Bob spoke, matter-of-factly.

“Close enough. Let’s go,” Hangman said, waving for them to follow. 

They all headed inside, scrambling for the elevator, arms full of pastry bags from the base cafe. When they finally made it to her room, they found her seated upright in bed, Bradley at her bedside. She smiled at the three of them, and suddenly they were all talking at once, expressing their relief that she was okay. 

She laughed at their eagerness, and gladly accepted the hugs they all gave her, along with the pastries. The dark, heavy cloud that had hovered over everyone was finally lifted, replaced by the sunshine of their smiles. 

“You should’ve seen Prince Charming over here,” Jake spoke up, clapping a hand against Bradley’s shoulder. Prince Charming was the nickname Jake had dubbed him after he met her, his princess. “He was worried sick about you. I thought he was gonna pull his hair out by how much he kept raking his hands through it.” 

Bradley smiled sheepishly. She reached for his hand again and gave it three squeezes. I. Love. You. “Sounds like my Rooster,” she said fondly. Then she addressed them all. “Thank you guys for looking out for me. Bradley says you stayed with him the whole time.”

“It didn’t feel right to leave him alone,” said Natasha. “Plus we all wanted to stick around and find out if you were going to be okay. Can’t tell you how relieved we were when the doc said you would be.”

“Yeah. You had us scared there for a minute,” Bob piped up. His blue eyed gaze was warm. 

“When I get out of here, Roos and I are taking you all out as a thank you.” 

“We’ll go, but only if you promise one thing,” Hangman spoke. 

“What’s that?”

“That you never scare us like that again.”

She couldn’t help the smile that broke across her face. “Deal,” she agreed. 

And that’s how she spent her morning. In a hospital room, surrounded by the love of her life and her closest friends, sharing pastries, shitty coffee, and laughter. 

She knew then, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that these people were her ride-or-dies. They’d follow her and Bradley to the ends of the earth, if need be. And she couldn’t ask for better friends if she wanted to. 

She had everything she could ever need, right there in the middle of her hospital room. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

-

@halfway-happyyy @natasharomanoffisbaebby @oliviabelova @robertbobfloydlover @supernaturaldawning @marrianena @mys2425 @n3ssm0nique @ice-mans-world @lovemesomevesey @straightforwardly @mochi-de-bisou @christinafaucher @emmmaturtle @fantasias-creativebubble @worldmadeofmemories @tarohemianrocketmanapsody @m0chac0ffee @not-leaprvt @i-simp-much @soaharleys @colorfultyrantearthquake @obxsuperfan07 @juniebugg @marchingicenotes7 @airedale17 @jamiedontbeacracko @monosjoons @dilfsandtherapy @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth @unluckymonaghan

[theroosterperch]

♥️

[seasonsbloom]

I think it’s amazing how you fleshed out Hangman in Bad Habit, his backstory is so believable and how he’s just as fragile as the reader too. It was beautifully written 😭🥹

I’m not sure if you’re taking requests but it would be so interesting to see the reader being introduced to Jakes parents and standing up for Jake when his dad keeps making digs at him because you know she would have his back no matter what 💪🏻and Hangman just falls more in love with her ❤️

♡ pairing ; boyfriend ! hangman x female!reader

♡ wc ; 4k

♡ warnings ; angst, sappiness, toxic parents, some sexual innuendo and the tiniest, tiniest, tiniest breeding kink hint at the end (i can't believe i just typed that goodbye)

♡ note ; bad habit universe. anon, i need you to understand the way this ask made me go feral. i'm so sorry this got so long but i truly went INSANE i BLACKED OUT. goodbye.

Jake is jumpy before you even get in the car. He spends way too long picking out his pants and shirt, messing with the cufflinks, wrapping and loosening the tie around his neck a hundred times until you finally take it off him.

“It’s just your parents, Jake,” you say softly, letting the garment - dark green silk, your last Christmas present to him because it brings out his eyes - drop onto the hotel bed. “Don’t be nervous.”

It’s stupid advice, and you know it. You’re pretty sure the thought of his father has made Jake nervous his entire life.

But under the gentle pressure of your hands on his shoulders, some of the tension seems to drain out of him. He all but slumps against you with a sigh, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. Like all the fight just evaporates.

“It’s been so long,” he whispers against your skin, but what he means is: I’m scared.

You wrap your arms around him, wishing with a sudden, unfamiliar fierceness that you could shield him from anything bad in the world.

“It’ll be okay,” you whisper back, but what you mean is: I know. I’m with you.

On the drive, in a rental that smells too new, too clean, you’re the nervous one. Knee bouncing up and down, fingers drumming along to the pop songs on the radio but missing the rhythm entirely.

Jake puts a hand on your thigh, just above the knee, just below the hem of your floral sundress. Warm skin on warm skin, even with the aircon blasting. The last freckles of summer are still fading on the backs of his hands.

His touch, unfailingly, sends a shiver down your back.

“Nervous to meet the in-laws?” he asks, signals, and pulls off the highway. Outside the window, factories and strip malls make room for a residential area, for swingsets in back yards and sweet tea on front porches.

The words have heat rising to your face. You’re not even engaged, let alone married. Still, Jake’s been known to introduce you as the Missus, to carry a polaroid of you in his wallet, to talk to you about which tropical destinations you should spend your retirement benefit plans on when you’re both seventy. (You don’t tell him he’ll be seventy a good few years before you because it’ll just make him pout, and then you’ll kiss him, and then you won’t do any talking anymore.) 

“Just… I’ve never met a boyfriend’s parents before,” you admit.

Jake hums, lifts his hand from your knee to tangle his fingers with yours instead, pulls them up to his mouth, and presses a kiss to your knuckles. His eyes never leave the road.

“You’ll do fine, sweetheart.” And then his smirk turns mischievous. “I love that dress on you. Will like it even more when I take it off you later, though.”

You laugh more for his benefit than because you actually find it amusing. There’s the familiar spark of desire, but it’s faint, muffled, distant.

It’s not hard to tell that Jake’s heart isn’t really in it. That’s okay. Yours isn’t either.

The house is perfect. Impeccably kept lawns, greener than the Texan heat should allow for, bushes trimmed into neat squares like somebody is exercising their personal vendetta on nature. Big windows and a car parked in a perfect parallel line to the curb. There’s something cold to it all.

On the walk up to the front door, while you’re careful not to step on any patches of that green, green grass, you take Jake’s hand, and you can’t tell if it’s for his benefit or your own. He squeezes back just once.

Jake’s mother is just like that house - so perfect it scares you. 

She looks like one of those housewives in laundry detergent advertisements from the 50s. Manicured fingers, a string of pearls around her neck, lips painted a rosy shade of red.

Suddenly you’re sure your dress is too short, your hair isn’t styled carefully enough, you’re wearing too much make-up. You want to hide.

She greets you at the door, a smile on her face that seems almost a little nervous.

“Jake,” she says and kisses him on both cheeks but doesn’t hug him. They haven’t seen each other in two years.

You hang back, unsure, wishing you could go invisible, but Jake puts a hand on the small of your back, pushes you forward, smiles, and looks proud in a way you can’t explain.

“This is my girl,” he says, and there’s so much in it. Not girlfriend, because you’re more than that. Not wife, because you’re not yet. But his, always, always his, since that night he walked into you at the Hard Deck. His, even when you still swore up and down you hated him. 

His mother shakes your hand, smiles not unkindly, and leads you into the house.

Jake and you sit on the couch as she hands you glasses filled with a sensible amount of iced water. An old, imposing grandfather clock ticks away the seconds.

“Your father’s in his study,” she says, eyes shifting rapidly like she can’t decide where to look. “I’ll check what’s keeping him.”

The whole house smells like the roast sizzling in the oven, like the steaming peach cobbler you saw through the open kitchen door when you walked in.

Jake is tense beside you, on guard. He sits on the edge of the sofa, palms spread on his knees like he’ll spring up at any moment and sprint out of the house, out of the state, back home to California, to the little apartment the two of you are renting. An apartment without lace curtains, without grandfather clocks, an apartment without grass or manicured bushes. But an apartment with warmth and sheets that smell like his shampoo, like your flowery body lotions, with a stain on the sofa cushion where you spilled red wine, with a burn mark on one of the kitchen counters from the one time Jake tried to cook dinner and set a pan down on the linoleum.

Not a perfect house, but a kind one. A home.

You loop your arm through his and press your cheek into his sleeve.

“You okay?” he asks softly. Even now, he’s still thinking about you, and you wonder how you could ever, for one moment, for one second, believe that he was selfish. Your chest feels tight, too narrow for all these emotions to fit inside.

You nod. “Are you?”

He’s about to answer when his mother comes back.

The man trailing behind her is unmistakeably his father. You can recognize the traces of Jake in his eyes, in the line of his mouth, but he lacks his charm, his boyish air. Lacks the flicker of kindness in the stiff smile. The hair at his temples has greyed with age, but his gaze is clear and sharp. It flicks from Jake to you, and his mouth twists downward.

Jake jumps up the moment his father enters the room, back ramrod straight. You follow slowly, choosing to hang back a little. Hiding at least partially behind Jake.

“Sir,” Jake says, voice different than you’ve ever heard, and you watch in amazement as they shake hands.

Involuntarily, you think of your own mother, smothering you in kisses after you got back from a school trip. You, pushing her away, glancing at your friends, saying, ew, stop, Mom. 

Suddenly you think you might cry.

“This is her?” Jake’s father asks, waving a hand in your direction. He’s looking only at his son, you note, not at you.

“Yeah,” Jake answers and tells them your name.

You give him what you hope is a sweet smile, but his father ignores you.

“Is dinner ready?”

Jake’s mother nods. “Yes. We can go to the dining room.”

There are flags on the walls, plaques, and framed medals. Pictures of aircrafts and squadrons, men in uniforms that look dated now. There’s nothing new here, no traces of Jake apart from a framed photograph on the mantlepiece, him grinning into the camera at what you think might have been his senior prom.

It’s strange. You remember Jake telling you he sends all the mementos of his accomplishments to his parents. Maybe they keep them upstairs, you think, but somehow you doubt it.

When you get back home, you’ll ask him to hang them in your hallway instead. You didn’t even want him to put his Top Gun diploma on the sideboard near the entrance, but now you feel different about it.

All of them, you think. Everything. I’ll put out the award from the Spelling Bee he won in second grade.

In the dining room, Jake’s mother serves you roast and mashed potatoes and green beans in sensible portions on crisp white china.

“Your favorite,” she says, smiling at Jake.

You don’t say anything, but it’s on the tip of your tongue, burning there. Lasagna, you want to say, his favorite food is lasagna. One time he came home from a deployment and ate so much of it he got sick.

“Thanks, Mom,” Jake says, smiling a smile you’ve never seen. One that doesn’t reach his eyes.

Everybody makes small talk. His mother asks you a few questions about your teaching position, tentatively inquiring about your plans for the future.

“I’ll buy her a house,” Jake interjects, sounding serious and proud, and you stare at your plate to hide the smile.

He’s joking, probably. No way he means that.

His father doesn’t talk to you at all. He asks Jake increasingly aggressive questions about his last deployment, about the squadron he’s been assigned to, about when he’ll finally make the jump from Lieutenant Commander to Commander.

Jake hesitates, then he says, “Actually, Sir… I was thinking of teaching.”

The older man pauses, scotch glass halfway to his mouth, amber liquid sloshing against the rim. 

“Teaching,” he repeats, a tension to the word that borders on danger.

Jake nods. “At Top Gun.”

His father sets his glass down on the tabletop with a sound softened by the silk cloth. You’ve gone quiet, frozen, as has Jake’s mother. Both of you staring like you’re watching a car crash - impossible to stop it, impossible to look away.

“Why,” Jake’s father says softly, “would you ever want to do that?”

Jake tips his chin up and answers, “Well… It’s close to home. And when we get married, when we get a house, I want to be there. Not on active duty, I want….”

And he’s mentioned it once before, but back then, you thought it was a joke. The idea of Jake torturing poor Top Gun hopefuls is a little unsettling, or at least it was, but you’re beginning to understand. You think he could be good at it, great maybe, teaching those people not to make the same mistakes he used to make.

When we get married, he’d said. Not if. When.

The thing Jake has loved most in his life - and you know this - was flying out there. Being in the midst of it all, in the thick of it, risking his life, always up in the air. The fact that he’s willing to give it all up for you…

Warmth blooms in your chest.

For the first time this night, Jake’s father turns his eyes right on you. They’re ice-cold. As cold as this house.

“Was this your idea?” he asks.

Automatically, you open your mouth to answer, but Jake is quicker.

“No,” he says. “It wasn’t her idea. It was mine. She had nothing to do with it.”

His father exhales a loud, shuddering breath, something that tears through the silence like a bull pawing at the ground.

“No,” he says finally.

“No?” Jake repeats, sounding hesitant.

“No.” Jake’s father places his cutlery delicately by his plate, smooths out the napkin in his lap. “No son of mine will give up a career to play house.”

“I…”

His father bulldozes over the interjection as if it hadn’t happened. “What, you can’t handle the pressure? Tough luck, boy. You gotta grit your teeth and get through it.”

There’s so much wrong with all of it. An emotion you can’t name rises up in your throat, makes your fingers clench into the fabric of the tablecloth.

“I don’t want to,” Jake says, trying to stand his ground. But something’s fading from him as you watch, some light dimming as his shoulders slump and his face falls.

You’ve never seen Jake like this before. All the cool melted out of him, all the bravado gone. Nothing but uncertainty left in its wake.

“You’ve always been weak,” his father says without looking at him. “Crying all the time when you were young, running to your mother. I knew it back then, and I see it now. Too weak for the Navy, too weak for this life, too weak….”

“Stop.” You can’t remember making the decision to speak, but suddenly your voice echoes through the room. Everybody’s looking at you. Your heart is in your throat.

And it’s so dumb. You can barely stand up for yourself. Last week, one of your student’s fathers yelled at you about a bad grade, and you just went home to cry into Jake’s chest for an hour. But this… it’s different. This ignites something in your chest, something violent and significant, something that demands to be felt.

You’d known their relationship was bad, but you hadn’t expected this. Nothing could have prepared you for it.

“You’re wrong,” you say, and wonder how your voice can sound so calm when on the inside you’re shaking, when the anger bubbles up into your throat like bile, when… “He’s not weak. Jake is the strongest person I know.”

Distantly, you’re aware of Jake’s head turning in your direction, but you keep your eyes on his father. Watch the twitch of his mouth, corners curling up into a smile dripping disdain.

“Oh, Jake,” he says, voice mocking as he turns to his son again. “Still need women to fight your battles for you?”

Jake’s mother says nothing, face turned down towards her plate, hands folded primly in her lap. The string of pearls around her neck shifts with every inhale, and for a moment, you ask yourself who’s worse: the one who does the hurting or the one who sits by and does nothing.

“I love him,” you say, and it’s not the first time you’ve said it, but it is the first time you say it in front of somebody else, somewhere outside the privacy of your bedroom, where you can convince yourself nobody exists in the world but him and you. It feels, somehow, significant. “He’s twice the man you’ve ever been.”

The eyes turn on you, so cold it sends a shiver down your back. And you don’t understand how you could have thought, even for a moment, that they looked alike. It’s like comparing a pencil sketch to an oil painting - night and day.

True anger courses through the words, through the voice, as he says, “You think I’m going to sit here and listen to some rude little schoolteacher my son picked up on the roadside try and tell me to….”

Jake’s palm hits the tabletop so forcefully the china jumps an inch into the air, the glasses rattle, and white wine spills into the casserole dish with the green beans. 

“Don’t,” Jake hisses through clenched teeth, “ever talk to her like that again.”

Silence spreads.

His father chuckles. “What, you think that’s gonna impress me, boy? I don’t…”

“I don’t care,” Jake says. You can hear it in his voice, in the trembling of his breath - the anxiety, but the anger too. Your eyes burn. “For the first time in my life, I don’t care what impresses you. I just… I’m so tired of it. This is who I am. Either accept it or don’t.”

“Jake…” his mother whispers, but he won’t look at her. She throws a furtive glance at her husband, then at you. You can see the fear there, and you almost feel bad for her.

His father picks his cutlery back up and cuts into his roast. 

“Sit back down, boy,” he says, the picture of perfect calm if it weren’t for the quiver in his hands. “Don’t cause a scene.”

You see the exact moment it happens. When the resignation finally sinks in for Jake. The acceptance of this thing he’s denied all his life. 

His eyes flicker to you, and there’s something helpless in them. You think you hear the crack as your heart breaks.

And Jake is confident. Knows what he wants. Is so much clearer about it all than you with all your overthinking and spiraling and second and third and fourth guessing. Is so good at acting like he has all the answers that sometimes it makes you forget how good he is at pretending too. How sometimes, he needs you to take over.

So you get up, slot your fingers into the spaces between his, and say, looking only at his mother, “Thank you for dinner. I think it’s time we leave.”

Nobody says anything. Jake’s parents stay where they are, in their perfect, cold house, with their perfect, flavorless food and their lace curtains and grandfather clocks and no pictures of their brilliant, beautiful, warm son.

But you leave. You leave, and you take him with you.

The thought of Jake as a child, alone in this house, with that man in front of his door, almost chokes you.

You’re silent as you get into the car, silent as he pulls away from the curb, silent as the house fades smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. As it disappears from view completely.

You know you’ll never come here again. Something about it all is decidedly and vitally final.

Over the middle console, you watch Jake. It’s dark outside now, but the electronics of the dashboard illuminate him, the headlights of oncoming cars paint ghostly shadows across his features. You can’t read his expression, feel almost incapacitated by your own panic.

You don’t know what to say.

It’s impossible to tell how long you drive, but finally, Jake signals and pulls into an empty Walmart parking lot. Parks the car. Turns off the engine. And then he makes a sound you’ve never heard before.

With a start, with a jolt that zaps through you like a current, you realize he’s crying.

You’ve never seen him cry. Not when a bird strike took down his wingman last year. Not when you made him watch first Philadelphia and then Titanic in the most devastating double feature of all time.

It stumps you. Throws you for a loop. Makes tears well up in your own eyes.

“Oh, Jake,” you say, leaning across the middle console to wrap your arms around him, to press your face into his neck and hold him. Try and keep you both from falling apart.

And it’s so much pain. So much pain he’s carried with him every day, so much of it that you can feel it reverberate along your own bones as if it’s yours. And maybe that’s true. Maybe part of loving someone is feeling their pain as your own. Carrying it not for them but with them. Sharing it.

After what you just saw, you think you understand. Perhaps for the first time. All that cockiness and all that arrogance and all those things you hated about him at first. How they’re all just pieces of armor, something he’s built over the years to protect himself from that father and those expectations he could never meet and that cold, cold, cold.

You hold him until he calms, until the shaking of his sobs subsides, until he draws back and pushes himself into an upright position, says, “I’m sorry for crying.” He pushes a laugh out, but you don’t buy it. Not for a second. “That’s humiliating, huh? Bet you didn’t know you were dating such a pussy….”

“Don’t.” Your voice is firm, and it stops him in his tracks. “Don’t do that, Jake. That’s just him talking. There’s nothing wrong with crying. There’s nothing wrong with anything you did.”

His fingers flex around the steering wheel. He exhales loudly through his nose, and when he speaks again, his voice has gone so quiet you need to lean forward to hear him, “I guess some part of me just always thought… always thought that maybe, someday, he’d love me.”

And that’s it. It shatters you right there. Breaks you apart in a way you can’t explain.

You don’t know what to say. Maybe there is nothing to say. No words to make this better, to make him think the opposite. Not after what you’ve just seen.

“I guess…” His throat moves as he swallows. It’s so dark in this parking lot you can barely see more than the outline of him, shadowed by the darkness, but it’s enough. You know him so well, you could draw his face blind. “I guess that’s it, then. I guess I no longer have a family.”

It’s instantaneous. No, you think. I won’t let him believe that. Not for a second.

“Do you think I don’t have a family?“ you ask him.

Jake’s brows furrow, obviously confused by your question. “What?”

“Because my mom is gone, and my dad doesn’t care, and I don’t have any siblings or aunts or uncles. Do you think I don’t have a family?”

“No,” he says immediately, frowning. “You’ve got me. And you’ve got Penny and Phoenix and….”

“Then why would you ever think that about yourself?”

That shuts him up. He just sits there for a while.

“Jake,” you say, voice more gentle than it’s ever been. “It doesn’t change a thing. Not about the way I feel about you or the man that you are.”

He’s biting his lips, glancing at you from the corner of his eye and then away just as quickly.

“You don’t…” He clears his throat. “You don’t believe what he’s saying? That I’m… weak, or…”

You’re shaking your head before he’s halfway through the question.

“I meant what I said back there,” you reassure, reaching for his hands again. “Jake, you’re the best person I know. You can be an asshole, and a dumbass, and arrogant, and….”

“Aren’t you supposed to be making me feel better?” he interrupts, but there’s amusement in his voice, and relief floods your chest in answer.

You say, “What I mean is… I think you’re remarkable.”

“Remarkable?” he repeats, and you can hear the frown in his voice.

“Remarkable. Because even with someone like him raising you, putting you down all the time, telling you all that bullshit… you still turned out so good. You still turned into the best man I’ve ever known.” You take a deep, deep breath. “The only man I’ve ever really loved.”

And when he turns to look at you, you can see the tears sparkling in his eyes.

You’re climbing over the middle console before you know it, settling into his lap with your arms around his neck and your knees pressing into the seat bis hips. Jake slots clumsy kisses over your eyebrow, your cheekbone, your nose, until he finds your mouth.

He tastes like salt and gravy and home.

“It shouldn’t be like that,” you tell him, drawing back to card your fingers through his hair. “With my mom, it was never like that. She was so warm and kind, and she was so happy to see me, always. Even if I showed up unannounced and drunk at three am. And she just wanted me to be happy, no matter in what capacity. That’s how it should be, Jake, that’s what you deserved. Someone who loves you unconditionally.”

“I do have that,” he whispers, voice husky. “I have you.”

And it’s like this: being with Jake is like drifting on a blow-up mattress through a pool. Being with Jake is like reaching the top of a mountain after hours of hiking. Being with Jake is like the first taste of ice cream on the hottest day of the year. Being with Jake is like the first winter snow, early in the morning when everything is still untouched and quiet. Being with Jake is like listening to the rain from beneath your blankets, warm and safe and cozy.

Being with Jake is everything you’ve ever wanted.

“Yes,” you agree, head spinning, chest tight, “you do. You’ll always have me, Jake. We’re our own family already. And when we have kids, I know you’ll be the most perfect father, and you’ll never, ever treat them the way your dad treated you. You’ll be so kind and so loving and….”

“When we have kids,” he interrupts you.

In his lap, your face inches from his, you freeze.

Suddenly you can’t look at him. Your cheeks feel like they’re burning. “I… I’m sorry, we never talked about this, I just….”

You move to climb off him, but he pulls you closer instead, holds you to him with hands grasping the backs of your thighs.

“Is that what you want?” he asks softly. “You want to have my kids?”

The way he phrases the question almost makes you scoff. But then you think about it for a second, this thing you haven’t even been brave enough to voice in the privacy of your own mind. This thing that perhaps, in your heart of hearts, you’ve always dreamed of.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I do. I do, Jake.”

And he groans, pushes his face against your cheek, and you can’t see him, but you can feel the tears.

“I’ll give it to you,” Jake whispers. “I'll give you anything you want. A ring and a house with a blue door and a baby. I’ll give you a baby, sweetheart. My girl. My gorgeous, brave, brave girl.”

In the silence of the night, in the warmth of that car, it sounds like a promise.

[theroosterperch]

this got me choked up y'all. If I met his dad the hoops would be coming OFF.

[theroosterperch]

Reblogging again 🥺❤️

[multiplefandomsonewriter]

Tangled Hearts (18+)

Request: What would you think about another sequel of Learning to love again ? Maybe where they want to have their first night together and Bradley notices you being hesitant, even though you really wanna be close to him. So he makes it all about you and all gentle, showing you real love ? But if you don't want to continue this, then it's fine as well ❤️ btw, I really really love your blog !!!

Pairings: Dagger Squad x Reader, Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut, mentions of past domestic abuse, shitty exs

Masterlist

Prolog: Fight For Freedom

Sequel: Learning to Love Again

Third Installment: Tangled Hearts

A/N: Thank you to @talesofreading for sending in this amazing request and you and @imagine-all-the-fandoms better get your ice cubes ready.

After a year of dating, you and Bradley had decided that he would just move in with you. You both had brought this up to Jake and Javy and they were all for it, they even helped him move his stuff from his apartment to your house. Since you were now living together that meant that you two were riding into work together and leaving together. Bradley and you had been taking it slow in your relationship and you had thought it was holding him back and it was putting a damper on your mood. You’re the one that wanted to take it slow and he was ok with that but something was telling you that it wasn’t right. Bradley had noticed you being quieter than usual and this concerned him; he knew how you were when you were with Tony. As you both were getting into the Bronco, he brought this up. “Are you ok?” He asked, looking at you with concern before starting the vehicle. You wouldn’t look at him and this made him panic.

“Everything is fine. Why wouldn’t it be?” You asked him, finally looking at him.

“You just seem quieter than normal. Am I doing something wrong?” He asked and you shook your head.

“No, absolutely not. You’re perfect. You’ve been so good to me. I think it’s me.” You said and he looked at you funnily. He started the Bronco and pulled out of the parking space and headed home.

“If there was something, would you tell me?” He asked and you nodded.

“Of course, I would.” You said and held the hand that wasn’t on the steering wheel. Every now and then he would bring it up to kiss as the rest of the car ride was filled with silence, a million thoughts running through your head. You both had arrived home after a long tiring day and were ready for supper and then bed. He parked the Bronco in the garage next to your black Jeep Wrangler and the both of you got out silently and walked into the house.

“I’m gonna start dinner. Why don’t you go ahead and change into something comfortable.” He said taking you into his arms and then kissing your head as you buried your face into his chest.

“Ok.” You said and leaned up and kissed him and then headed to the bedroom and got ready for a relaxing night. After a much-needed shower you changed into a pair of his sweats and a t-shirt of his and headed into the kitchen with damp hair. The first thing that you noticed was the wonderful fragrance of food and your stomach growled as you stood in the doorway watching the man you loved move effortlessly around the kitchen with his khaki shirt unbuttoned and shoes kicked off near the door. He looked up when he noticed that you were there watching. He made one more check of the food and walked over and then kissed you hard and you melted into him. Maybe you shouldn’t bring up the topic that had been bugging you but you needed to know. He pulled away and looked at you with so much love in his eyes that you didn’t know someone could have.

“Dinner is almost ready. I’m gonna go get cleaned up and changed and then we can finish dinner together.” He said and you nodded and he gave you one more kiss and then he was on his way to the bedroom. You heard the shower kick on for the second time today and you walked further into the kitchen. You saw an alfredo sauce cooking on the stove and decided to taste it with the spoon next to the pan and when you did it was like heaven. How did you get so lucky? You asked yourself. You had been so in your head that you didn’t notice Bradley coming back into the room and coming up behind you and hugging you while resting his head on your shoulder. “How does it taste?” He asked, kissing the shell of your ear and you leaned your head on back and kissed him.

“Perfect.” You said and he smiled.

“Good. All I have left to do is cook the pasta.” He said and spun you around “Wanna help?” He asked and you nodded and you both got to work on it and no time, supper was ready and being eaten at the table. After dinner was eaten and dishes put away you leaned up against the counter watching him in silence and that grabbed his attention. “Everything ok?” He asked, looking at you and you shook your head. “What’s wrong?” He asked.

“I feel like I’m holding you back.” You said looking down and he was stunned into silence.

“What do you mean by that?” He asked and you looked up at him and saw the hurt expression on his face and that surprised you.

“You could have anyone in the world but you’re with someone that was abused in the past. I feel like I’m making you go too slow.” You said and he shook his head.

“I love you and only you. I told you from the time I kissed you that we can take this as slow as you want. I want you to be comfortable in this relationship and not feel rushed. I don’t want a relationship that is all about sex and moving too fast. I’m perfectly fine with taking things slow.” He said and then you started to cry and he walked over to you and took your face in his hands and wiped your tears away from your eyes as they fell. “I want to show you that I love you. Can I do that?” He asked and you nodded.

“I’m ready.” You said and kissed him and he smiled. He took a step back and one hand still connected to yours and led you to the bedroom where he gently guided you down onto the bed once you reached it. He gently got on top of you and kissed you while his hands were on your sides and yours grasping at the tiny hairs on the back of his neck. He kissed you all over your face and down your neck where he nibbled every now and then. His mustache was a nice added bonus on your over sensitive skin and the scratch felt nice.

Bradley lifted up looking you in the face. “May I?” He asked as you felt his hands on the hem of your, really his, shirt and you nodded your head.

“Yes.” You said and he smiled and gently lifted up and over your head and tossed it to the side of bed not caring where it landed. You had decided to go braless considering you didn’t like sleeping in a bra. 

“You’re beautiful.” He said and started to kiss the valley between your breasts and to the hem of yours, again his, sweatpants and your underwear he looked up and you gave a nod and he eased them down your legs and threw them in the direction of the shirt. “Absolutely beautiful.” He said and you blushed.

“Hey, it's not fair that I’m naked and you’re not. Also, you deserve attention too.” You said leaning up on your elbows and he shook his head.

“This about you. If you want me to get naked you just have to tell me. Do you want me to get naked?” He asked with a smirk and you rolled your eyes and smirked and nodded and he did just that. He looked like a god and it was just as you imagined him, you had seen him without a shirt before but seeing him now it just hit different. When he took his sweatpants and underwear off his cock was standing at attention and it made your mouth water but he didn’t give you time to think about it because he was back on you attacking your neck with kisses and had you falling back into the pillows and moaning. You could feel his hard cock on your thigh and every now and then it would throb.

Bradley made his way down your neck and to your breasts. He took the left one into his mouth and started to suck and gently nip at it and swirl it in his mouth this made you moan like no other. His other hand came up and fondled your other and then when he thought that your left one had enough attention, he did the same to your right one and fondled the left one. Your hands came up to his head and ran your hands threw his hands and tugged on it and that made him his and moan sending vibrations through your body. Once he was done there, he kissed his way down to where you needed him the most.

Bradley slid further down until he was face to face with your pussy and he smirked to find that you were already wet and he felt proud because he did that to you. “Still ok with this?” He asked and you nodded not being able to find the words. He took that as a go ahead and he pulled your thighs apart and kissed the inside of your thighs while nipping at them and that made you jump but moan at the same time. Your hands had moved to the sheets and were gripping them like your life depended on it. He licked a broad stripe up your folds and you let out a pornographic moan and threw your head back. He went to town eating you like you were his last meal.

“Bradley.” You moaned out as he sucked in your clit and gently bit it and that made you jump. His mustache felt good and helped you get close to cumming especially when it bumped against your sensitive clit. “I’m close.” You said and he continued his pace. The rubber band-like feeling was starting to build and you weren’t going to last too much longer. What did you in was when he dipped his tongue in your tight hole and tongue fucked you the feeling finally snapped and you were a moaning mess “I’m cumming.” You spoke. When you came down from your high Bradley was coming up and you saw your juices on his face and then he leaned up and kissed you letting you taste yourself.

“Such a good girl for me.” He said and that had you shuddering. “Are you still ok with this?” He asked and you nodded.

“Fill me up.” You said and he smirked and kissed you one more time as he stroked himself and then was slowly sliding into you. You weren’t a virgin, far from it but you also hadn’t had sex since Tony and even then, it was very so often. He then braced himself on his elbows caging you in.

“You’re so tight.” He said and as he fully bottomed out in you. He started to move and you moaned into this mouth when he leaned down to kiss you. Your hands went to his back and your nails dug into his shoulder blades. He continued to thrust into you as he swallowed your moans. He pulled away when air was needed.

“Faster!” You said and he obeyed and started to go faster. Your head went back into the pillows and legs wrapped around his waist. “Right there!” You spoke. Your nails drug down his back making him hiss.

“I’m close, Baby.” He said and moaned “I’m gonna marry you someday and then we’re gonna have kids and raise them and be the perfect family.” He said and you moaned at the thought of wanting that with him.

“Yes, Bradley! I want that with you! All of it!” You said and he moaned as his thrusts were getting sloppy until he finally stilled inside of you and painted your walls white. Both of you cumming at the same time. You unhooked your legs and he gently pulled out and fell to the side of you, his sperm slowly spilling out of you. You both got dressed as you both got cleaned up and headed into the living room to watch some TV but something was on your mind. “Do you really mean that?” You asked him turning to look at him and he nodded turning on his side looking at you.

“Of course. I want everything with you.” He said and that made you tear up. He wiped your tears away.

“I want it to.” You said and he smiled and got up and walked into the bedroom and to his nightstand and pulled out a box. “Bradley?” You asked as he came back out to the living and you sat up straighter as he got down onto the floor on one knee.

“This is not how I was planning on proposing but Y/N “Storm” Y/L/N. I have loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you. I want to have kids and grow old with you. You’re perfect in every way possible. You’re one hell of an aviator, best friend, girlfriend, and I know you’ll be one hell of a fiancé, wife, and mother. Will you do me the honor of marrying me and becoming my wife?” He asked and you started to cry and nod your head.

“Yes 1,000 times yes.” You said and he slid the ring on your finger and you brought your hands up at the same time as him and kissed him. He sat back down next to you as you looked at the ring.

“It was my mother’s. She gave it to me before she passed.” He spoke

“It’s beautiful. Your father had great taste just like you.” You said and he chuckled.

“He sure did.” Bradley said and kissed you and he pulled you into him and cuddled you as you both finished watching the movie that was playing. You weren’t really paying attention. You were thinking of the rest of your life with Bradley, the love of your life. Your hearts were tangled, it was forever and you were more than ok with that. Everything was perfect and you were so glad that your makeup smeared that day because if it hadn’t then you wouldn’t be here with the love of your life and would probably still be used as a personal punching bag for Tony. Bradley was going to protect you for the rest of your life and you were ready for that.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@grandstrangerphantom

[oscar-isaac]

MILES TELLER Top Gun: Maverick (2022)

[familyvideostevie]

how it could grow

thank you for voting in this poll! here we have grumpy!reader and sunshine!rooster going to the farmer's market | fluff, 1.7k

It's early.

Bradley gets up early and probably will forever. You've always considered yourself able to get up in the morning, but he's so...cheery. So damn chipper.

Being up early on a Saturday means the local farmer's market. It's so early that it's not even close to crowded, so you and your boyfriend stroll down the rolls of stalls, checking your combined list as you to to make sure you hit the right vendors.

Bradley waves at many of them, dragging you over to get some pickles and compliment Carlota's hat, to the bee farm stand to ask Steve about new candle scents, to get some iced tea and to hear about Lu's new puppy.

"This is delicious, Lu," he says. "What do you think, babe?" He nudges your shoulder with his.

He's not teasing you, not really, but he is trying to make you talk. You're usually very content to let Bradley be the talker, the friendly face. He's like the sun and for a long time you had no idea what he was doing spending his time with you. You're quieter, rougher around the edges. But he's practically drilled it into you by this point: he loves you. So you let him prod you a little because you do like these people and they always have a smile and kind word for you, even if Bradley does all the chatting.

"It's lovely," you tell the vendor, and mean it. It's no surprise Bradley knows him and his dog's name and everything about the business. He beams at you.

"Thank you!" he says. "Bradley's told me you're particular about your tea. Here, you take some of this new blend to try and let me know next week what you think."

So ensues a small battle over paying that ends with Bradley convincing Lu to come to the Hard Deck for a free drink this weekend in exchange for your sample blend.

"That was nice of him," you mumble, tucking into Bradley's side. He holds the iced tea you're sharing between you so you can take sips from the straw, his other arm slung over your shoulder.

"You're his favorite customer," he says. You look at him. Yeah, right, you say with your eyebrows. Seriously, his say back. You roll your eyes.

"I think that's you."

He winks. "Alright, beautiful." You scowl but he ignores it. "I think it's time to divide and conquer. You take fruits, I'll take veggies? And then we can hit the bakery on the way home and eat on the porch."

"Okay," you tell him. He gives you the rest of the tea and you tilt your cheek up. Bradley recognizes what you're asking for immedietly, surging forward to press his lips to your cheek tenderly.

"I'll find you," he says, and heads to the farm stand, whistling as he goes.

You head to the fruit stand. Bradley asked for strawberries, so you'll get some of those. And some apples for snacking on and blackberries, if she has them. When you get there, there's a small child and her mother in front of you. The little girl looks at you and you crack a smile at her and wiggle your fingers in hello. She giggles before burying her face in her mother's leg.

Yeah, okay, so a few things can crack your exterior. Your cheery, handsome aviator boyfriend and cute kids. And dogs, obviously.

The mom and kid leave and it's your turn. "Hi, honey!" the vendor says.

"Hi, Thalia," you say. Bradley comes here almost every week and when you tag along you love to visit this woman especially and her colorful piles of fruit.

"What's it for you today?" she says. Before you can answer, she holds up her hand. "Wait, I forgot!" She bends down under her stall table and reemerges with the most perfect carton of raspberries you've ever seen. You gasp softly. This is the first time she's had them all summer.

"Those are gorgeous," you say. She grins.

"That tall boyfriend of yours came by last week and I didn't have any yet." She chuckles at the memory. "He looked downright heartbroken and asked me to save some for you special once I picked 'em. So here we are! First and only carton before we bring a full load next week."

You gently take the berries from her and find that words won't come. "Oh," you say softly, looking down at them in your hands. "Thank you."

"Not a problem, dear," Thalia says softly. "Anything else for you?" You snap out of it and smile at her, rattling off your list. She bags up your things into your tote after you pay and you carry them over your shoulder while cradling the carton in your hands like precious cargo. Because it is.

The market is a little more crowded as you scan the veg stalls for Bradley. He does things like this -- the berries -- all the time, really. He looks out for you, makes sure your water bottle has ice in it, buys you more shampoo when he notices you're low, resets the car seat when he knows you'll be driving. You know that he likes taking care of you, that it makes him feel useful and like he's loving you properly, but you wonder if maybe you don't show him the same courtesy.

You know you can be sullen, you can be quiet, you can be prickly. It's not proved too much for him thus far and you're sure it won't drive him away, but you worry that he just doesn't know that he deserves to be loved with the same care and concern that he loves you. He deserves someone who makes sure he has the very first carton of the season of his favorite fruit.

You spot him standing by the kombucha stand and admire him as you walk over, tossing out the empty iced tea cup as you go. Highlighted hair, golden skin, tote bag of veg over his broad shoulders. He's so beautiful and he's yours. You love him, you really do. Right before you call his name he looks up and finds you, almost as if he felt you coming. He breaks into a smile so genuine you can't help but return it.

"Hi, gorgeous," he says, loudly. Beautiful, gorgeous. Bradley is always calling you something that makes your cheeks heat and your stomach swoop. You duck your head and step close to him. "Oh, hell yeah, the raspberries! Are they alright?"

"They're perfect," you tell him. You're perfect. "Thank you."

"Good," he says, like you being pleased by some raspberries is the best thing he's heard today. "Ready for breakfast?" You nod and he grabs your free hand and you head out of the market and down the street.

"Bradley," you say quietly, once you're clear of the stands. It's your serious tone and he picks up on it right away, giving your hand a squeeze.

"You okay?"

You hum. You are, but you need to get this out. "It was really nice of you to ask Thalia for these," you say, looking at your raspberries. "And I...I feel like I don't do things for you like that. And I wanted to say I'm sorry and that I'm going to try to do more because --"

"Woah, woah, woah," Bradley says, tugging you to a stop and making sure you're facing each other. "What's all this?" His brows are creased in concern, the furrow between them annoyingly adorable.

You take a deep breath and keep your eyes on his, determined. You want to be sure he hears this because you mean it.

"I know that I'm...prickly. And you're like the sun, Bradley." He looks like he wants to say something but you keep going before he can interrupt. "And you do nice things for me all the time and I know it's because you love me but also because it's just how you love, and because you're good. And I just want to do more to make sure you know that I love you and that you deserve to be treated like you're...like you're the best person in the world because you are."

His eyes get wider and wider as you speak, his lips parting. Yeah, maybe this is a little intense for like, 8:30 in the morning, but you two are honest with each other. It's how you got this far.

"Sweetheart," he says. "Baby, god, I--" He cups your face with one hand, eyes darting back and forth between yours. "But you do."

It's your turn to furrow your brows. What does he mean?

"You iron my uniform and you make sure I get dinner with Maverick every few weeks and you put gas in the Bronco and you stay up late to call me when I'm halfway across the world and you never let me forget my watch and you tell me you love me and that I'm brave and..." Bradley trails off and his thumb gently strokes your cheek. He starts again, quieter this time. "You're quiet in the mornings but you don't mind when I whistle and you're grumpy when it's too hot but you go outside with me anyway and you let me do the talking because I can't shut up and you only smile when you mean it and you're you. You do love me like that. You do."

Good god, you're blinking away tears at his words. "Okay," you say. "I guess we...I guess we love each other alright." Maybe it's just hard to see yourself the way he sees you. Maybe he finds it hard to see himself the way you see him. Maybe this is just how it is -- you have to remind each other you're doing your best.

Bradley leans in and presses his lips to your forehead. "You fucking bet we do," he whispers.

"Don't crush my berries," you say, eyes fluttering closed. He shifts and you feel his breath on your lips.

"I'd never."

And then he kisses you on the empty boardwalk on another gorgeous morning in your lovely, wonderful life.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, masterlist here! (also did anyone catch the easter egg in this fic :))

[unicornships]

Glen Powell in dress whites is basically how it would look like if Ken doll was a pilot. xD Grateful that we got to see Glen in his full navy uniform since we were robbed of seeing Jake Seresin in one on Top Gun Maverick.