27/11/22: Super Quick Adorable Read!!! Domestic Bradley Bradshaw Will Always Be My Favorite He’s So

04/10/22: CUTEST PROLOGUE FOR THE CUTEST COUPLE AROUND!!! aaaaaaaaa i’m so happy we’re gonna get to see them in an actual relationship this time!!! IT’S TIME FOR THE REAL DEAL!!! they deserve to be so happy together, i’m over the moon. i know this prologue is super short but i still NEED to highlight my favorite parts so that’s what below the cut!!! 💞

“His velvet jacket draped over his shoulder with just as much swagger as he had when he approached you last night at the wedding – watching him walk was going to be a problem, you realised. Did he always walk so sexy?”

“Was this your ploy? To get me back here…” he bit back a smile as he was in front of you again. You shook your head, a shy smile unable to be held back.” your rooster has such a way with words i’m already turning into jelly!!!!!!!!

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare be sorry,” he reassured you, swallowing hard. “Gee, they look good on you,” his voice dropped and his hands pressed into your hips, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh as you inhaled sharply.” THE DIALOGUE TONE CHANGE IN THIS I’M OBSESSED!!!

“Curiosity killed the cat,” his lip quirked, lowered his face to yours and you slipped his dog tags over his head, but didn’t let go of the chain. His warm hazel eyes caught yours.” 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 i can visualize the scene so perfectly!!!

“he made a face, his palms sliding to your ribcage, lightly tracing the bones under the pads of his long fingers. “Last guess. Better make it a good one,” he warned softly, his tired rasp just… just doing things. Bad, naughty things to your already overstimulated brain. Gee, if this was a dream you did not want to wake up.” PHYSICAL TOUCH ROOSTER YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS AND LOVED BY ME IT’S JUST SOMETHING SO PERSONAL AND IT MAKES SO MUCH SENSE IN EVERY INTERPRETATION OF HIS CHARACTER THE WHOLE PART ABOUT HIS PALM SLIDING TO YOUR RIBCAGE AND TRACING??????? INSANE. BEAUTIFUL. AND HIS VOICEEEEEEE!!!! “just… just doing things.” YEAH!!!!!!!!! I GET IT!!!!!! SO VALID, SO REAL!!!

“Nathan…” your voice trailed off and watched his face direct you towards another no and you quickly added, “iel?” reader trying to fix it last minute!!! CUTE!!!

AND OF COURSE FROM THE MOMENT I SAW THE LETTER N IN THE MIDDLE I KNEW IT WAS GOING TO BE NICHOLAS BECAUSE OF GOOSE AND STILL I GASPED WHEN BRADLEY SAID IT AJHDJSHDHSHS ANYWAYS!!!

“Nicholas,” you said again, burning into your brain so you’d never forget it.” 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥲🥲🥲

AND THEN THE WHOLE NICHOLAS WAS DAD’S NAME PART 🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲

“And there you have it. I’m all outta mystery,” he blinked, licking his lips. You were desperate to have him kiss you again. You gave each other bashful grins and fell into a slightly weird silence. He was so fucking handsome, how had you been so blind that this man was in front of you? Looking this fine, smelling this good… and wanting you just as badly.” AND WANTING YOU JUST AS BADLY!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS MY FAVORITE LINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“That part was the hardest part to grasp.” BELOVEDS I REALLY AM GETTING EMOTIONAL!!!

The Relationship Experience - prologue

read this first - the boyfriend experience

Tugging at the chain around your neck, rationality setting in, you texted Rooster furiously fast. “Bradley N. Bradshaw… your dog tags are right here where you left them,” you said as you typed, hopefully getting his attention before he got too far away, or at least seeing your text before he reported. 

Fuck, he texted back simply. That wasn’t good, you realised.

Continuar lendo

28/12/22: JORDAN, YOU MADE ME CRYYYYYY WITH THIS ONE!!! GOD!!! i read it on christmas but have only been able to highlight my favorite parts now, it’s so long i basically just copy and paste the whole thing i’m SORRY but every line you write is BEAUTIFUL and i can’t help myself. it was such an angsty and cozy read for the end of my christmas night. just very perfect in every sense. smart alecks emotions are so real and palpable, you really take us there with her!!! and sweet bradley, no words for him. he deserves all the happiness in the world and i hope the navy never takes him away again during christmas. joe biden you will pay for your crimes.

“and the food that you and Bradley - but mainly Bradley - had spent all morning and last night preparing was laid out on festive serving dishes, complete with seasonally appropriate plates and napkins, perfectly folded in their napkin rings.” AH YES BRADLEY COOKING. MY FAVORITE LITERARY GENRE.

“and you’d somehow wrangled a recipe for the cookies Bradley’s mom used to make from Sarah Kazansky and hadn't even burnt them.” this little detail made me 🥹

"Because they weren’t going to be spending the holiday on a drafty aircraft carrier in the middle of the Pacific far from home like Bradley was.” oh 😭 way to break my heart.

“You absentmindedly fixed the bow on your wrap dress. Your long sleeved, silk wrap dress - that also did plenty to hide any unwanted lines or bumps around your stomach. And your arms.” smart aleck beloved :(

"You hadn’t been this self conscious at the gala back in October" THIS GALA KEEPS HAUNTING ME I CAN’T WAIT TO READ IT!!!

and then she starts spiraling again question if bradley loves her or not :(

“Bradley loved you, Bradley proved how much he loved you every single day, Bradley catered to your every whim about this party with the biggest smile on his face.”

“Bradley loved you, Bradley loved you. He loved you. He - was wrapping his arms around your waist.” i love the way you make him ground her to reality again by wrapping his arms around her.

“Maybe you could buy him some new clothes while he was gone? By now, you knew what he liked and didn’t like - right down to the colors and fabric types. He needed some new undershirts - and socks. You nuzzled your face into his chest. He felt so warm and soft and smelled so good. You had to buy a travel sized bottle of his cologne before he left.” the intimacy of knowing each other so well that you can buy each other clothes. ALSO THE TRACEL SIZED BOTTLE OF HIS COLOGNE STOP ITS SICKENING SWEET

“Well,” Bradley started, “to be fair, you did do like all the work for this party, think it’s valid to be a little tired, sweetheart.” 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

“A good tired, huh?” His thumbs were making the most soothing circles on your hips.

“Like a heart full tired? A changing for dinner after a spending a day at the beach tired - no, wait. A post gala eating french fries in bed and watching Moonstruck tired?” An after you fucked me so hard I could barely remember my own name tired.” THE WAY YOU THROW IN LINES LIKE THIS SO SEAMLESSLY I CAN’T YOU’RE TOO GOOD AT THIS

“He wouldn’t be with you again until March.” STOP I’M GOING TO CRY

“Three months was a long time. Six pay cycles, at least twelve trips to the grocery, four off-sites, the entirety of Q1, five nail appointments, twenty four pilates classes, and if he knocked you up that very night, it could be the entirety of a first trimester of pregnancy. Not that you wanted to be pregnant - at least not for a while. Like quite a while. It was just a way to compare time. You didn’t want to be pregnant.” a perfect paragraph!!! it reveals so much about how anxious she feels about him being deployed. AND THE PREGNANT PART AT THE END I SEE YOU JORDAN

“And then he’d come home to you. To you and your life together.” 🥺🫶

“I’m gonna miss you, too.  Never really had someone to miss before on one of these - not like this.” I AM GOING TO K/LL MYSELF!!!!!! FAVORITE LINE!!!!!!

“Sorry…” You felt warm all over at getting caught. Normally, you and Bradley weren’t big on PDA, but you’d been needy lately - both of you had been.” BELOVEDS!!!

“Since moving back to California, Bradley had taken up surfing again and relished his weekend mornings out in the chilly Pacific.” i also adore this common agreement that bradley absolutely does surf. i saw a fanart of this months ago and i’ve never been the same.

“Who knows, maybe you would have been at Bradley and Max’s holiday party if you hadn’t met him in April.” pls i adore this

“You couldn’t imagine how long it took him to learn this if he was already off book. Did you mention his fingers? His hands? God, they were beautiful. Strong and long and corded - was that the right word? You recalled it from those regency romance novels you had hidden on your Kindle. God, you loved him so much. So fucking much. You’d never loved a person this much before - oh, you were going to miss him so much.” MY HEARTTTT

“Thanks, I just wanted to do something nice for Bradley.”

“Pretty sure you could’ve gotten a pizza and he would’ve been happy.” YEAH ❤️‍🩹

“Pete cut you off with a look. “Come on, by now you know it’s your house as much as Bradley’s…” i’m reading this a second time and oh the foreshadowing i love it

“You had never felt this way before Bradley, like another person was home.

And you wanted to be home all the time.” AND YOU WANTED TO BE HOME ALL THE TIME!!!!!!! GOD!!!!!! OK MAYBE THIS IS MY FAVORITE LINE!!!!!

“Back when you had first met him, you had imagined that gaining Pete’s approval was how you would have felt had Bradley’s parents been alive to give it to you. You thought about them often - more often than you’d ever let Bradley think - and especially as of late. Would they have liked you? Would they have gotten along with your parents? From what you’d been told, they would have made amazing grandparents. Maybe Bradley would even have had more siblings? Maybe, maybe, maybe.” 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Max held up two fingers. “I’ll be on my best behavior, Scout’s honor.”

“It’s three fingers, dumbass.” this was hilarious. comedy gold.

“You got it, rocketman.” THIS NICKNAME IS SO CUTE FOR HIM AND THERE’S THE WHOLE ELTON JOHN THING I AM UNWELL

“I really can’t stay…baby, it’s cold outside…I’ve got to go ‘way…baby, it’s cold outside…”

Oh god.” OH GOD INDEED. JUST SO VERY PERFECT.

“But it was just about the perfect duet, in that it was a crowd pleaser, a little slutty, and campy as hell. And as it so happened, you had been feeling a little slutty with all the champagne you had drunk throughout the evening. Plus, with Bradley on the keys and no one else sober enough to make fun of your less than stellar singing skills, you had been a glutton for attention. You had used your champagne coupe as a microphone and had only spilled a couple drops - at first.” WE ARE ALL ALLOWED TO BE A LITTLE SLUTTY SOMETIMES AND IT’S OKAY

“Come on, Bradshaw. How’s she been this year? Naughty or nice?” 😮‍💨

“Somehow, the two of you wound up laying on the floor at the edge of the Christmas tree. The soft lights made Bradley’s brown eyes appear like pools of chocolate and you flushed. He groaned as you rolled your hips against his lap, already feeling the bulge forming in his jeans. Shit - were you going to fuck underneath the Christmas tree? Like properly fuck on the floor underneath the Christmas tree.” GOOD FOR THEM!!!

"You slid your finger underneath the flap of the box and popped the lid open. But then there was the tissue paper. Goddamnit, Bradley! Why was he so good at wrapping presents! You glanced up at him only to see that he was blushing. Properly blushing. Like pink neck, pink cheeks - hell, even the tips of his ears were pink - blushing." THE WAY YOU DESCRIBE WHEN HE BLUSHES!!!! THE PINK EARS ❤️❤️‍🩹🥹😭🫶🥲

"He surged forward to kiss you and you temporarily forgot all your previous worries because Bradley wanted to move in with you. He wanted to share furniture and go grocery shopping for food that would go in the same fridge. He wanted to wake up beside you every single morning and come home to you every single evening and go to sleep beside you every single night. He wanted everything. And that’s what you wanted to give him." HE WANTED EVERYTHINGGGGGGG

“You kissed his cheek. “I’m excited and I’m gonna make you the best dinner you’ve ever had when you come home to me, alright?” WHEN YOU COME HOME TO ME!!!!!!!!

“Bradley was one of those people that opened presents like they were going to save the wrapping paper, which meant he did it slowly and purposefully. This normally didn’t bother you, but you were already a little on edge from earlier and had to sit on your hands to stop you from ripping the paper off yourself.” ok i adore and live for little details like this, a glimpse into his personality that we don’t get unless you write it and it fits him so well!!! just perfect, jordan!!!

“Harkening back to your first date, you had gotten him a Saturn V Rocket ornament to add to the tree, giving your rocketman something to aspire to.” we are NOT giving up on the bradley astronaut agenda anytime soon and i love that

“But when Bradley took your hand and threaded your fingers together and started drawing circles across your palm, the tears came. And came and came and didn’t stop. You rubbed at your eyes with your free hand and repositioned yourself to lay beside him.” stop this actually made me cry, i was sobbing during christmas night because of her breakdown

“Your ridiculously handsome, thirty-six year old, naval aviator boyfriend was giggling on the floor of your house because your were tickling his sides. If only you could show this version of Bradley to the Navy - maybe then they wouldn’t take him away from you at Christmas. Stupid US Military Industrial Complex. Fucking Lockheed Martin.” 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 THIS ONE BROKE MEEEEEE

“Also, are you still upset that I got you two presents? Because if you are, can I just make you come once tonight? Level the field.” STOP

“He pulled back slightly. “What happened to fucking on the living room floor?” he teased.

“Don’t want to fuck up your old man back anymore - Bradley!” you cried out as he smacked your ass.” they are everything to me!!!

“Bradley groaned. “Such a needy fucking thing, bucking against my fingers like that, huh?” You whined. “But I’m gonna fuck you nice and slow, yeah. Make sure you savor it.” 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

“No, you didn’t think so either. But you didn’t want to prolong this. You needed to be close to him and to know he was real and good and yours. At least for tonight.” REAL AND GOOD AND YOURS!!!!

“Home. Home. Home. Bradley wouldn’t just be coming back to San Diego in three months: he would be coming home - to you. And to this great, big, beautiful house he wanted to share with you. And to the life he wanted to share with you." SO MANY FAVORITE LINES I MEAN HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO PICK JUST ONE?

“I’m gonna miss you so much, bubs.” You cupped his cheek tenderly, like he would disappear at any moment. A nagging little voice at the back of your mind said that he would, in fact, do just that - on Monday morning. But that night he was yours.” PLS AS IF I HAVEN’T CRIED ENOUGH-

“Your home was in San Diego with your friends and your job. Your home was with your boyfriend, snuggled up on the couch watching TV, perusing the aisles of the farmer’s market, watching him surf, and cooking dinner together. Your home was with Bradley.” 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

not the it’s a wonderful life comparisons are you trying to kill us????

“He just made you lighter and made things lighter. He fit.” HE FITTTTTTTTTTTT I CAN NO LONGER DO THIS-

AND THEY EMAIL EACH OTHER????? JORDANNNNNNNNNNN

this was perfect. as always. no words. thank you for this beautiful christmas gift ❤️🥲

(christmas) baby please come home

summary: in which lieutenant commander bradshaw and his girlfriend throw a christmas party, complete with a christmas tree, copious amounts of champagne, blended friend groups, and the true meaning of the word home

OR what do you do when your boyfriend gets deployed over christmas and he get you two christmas presents?

pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader 11.8k

warnings: 18+, explicit language, explicit sexual content

part of @notroosterbradshaw ‘s hello december challenge

masterlist and playlist

It was obvious that you knew how to throw a party. 

Furthermore, it was obvious that none of your and Bradley’s friends - baring Max, but only because he had professional help - would ever be able to pull off a party of the same caliber as your Christmas party. 

Subconsciously, you wanted your friends to be jealous of you and impressed with how well you and Bradley had pulled things off. It was, admittedly, such a vain and shallow thought - no, desire to want to be the best at this. At throwing parties.

The Charlie Brown Christmas soundtrack was currently echoing throughout the downstairs on the Sonos, the twinkling jazz giving off a whimsical, yet sophisticated vibe, the Christmas tree looked stunning in the living room where it was covered in nearly three thousand white lights and countless ornaments, and the food that you and Bradley - but mainly Bradley - had spent all morning and last night preparing was laid out on festive serving dishes, complete with seasonally appropriate plates and napkins, perfectly folded in their napkin rings. 

You had scoured San Diego county for the most gorgeous garland possible to serve as the centerpiece on the dining room table, the berries and pine cones in it perfectly matching the plates and napkins and serving dishes. You had vacuumed the hardwood floor twice and washed it once before everyone came over and knew you would do so again once everyone left, if only so you could casually say it’s fine, you can keep your shoes on, we’re washing the floor tomorrow anyway. The candles weren’t overpowering, there was soft lighting all throughout the house, and you’d somehow wrangled a recipe for the cookies Bradley’s mom used to make from Sarah Kazansky and hadn't even burnt them.  

Because you wanted people to talk about it - the party. And to say did you see their bathroom? It was so clean, there weren’t any water spots on the faucet. The beef tenderloin appetizers were delicious, they had to have gotten the meat someplace special? No, definitely not Vons, maybe some local butcher in La Jolla? Aren’t they such a sweet couple? Such a good pair.

Because it had to be perfect. 

All of it.

Because this was Bradley’s Christmas. His only Christmas that year. Nothing could go amiss. And you wanted everyone to be jealous of it, so much so that tonight would be equal to if not better than how they celebrated the actual holiday with their own families - in their own homes - on Christmas Day. 

Because they weren’t going to be spending the holiday on a drafty aircraft carrier in the middle of the Pacific far from home like Bradley was. 

And Bradley deserved the entire world and all the happiness he could possibly have. The way his face had lit up when you’d first suggested the party after he’d gotten his orders at the beginning of November would stick with you for months. You’d told him that everything would be perfect, that you would pack enough Christmas spirit and love and gifts and food into one evening that it would take the sting out of being away from home - being away from you - at Christmas. Even if for just one night.

The guests had all arrived, some promptly and some not-so-promptly, with you and Bradley greeting them all, telling them to help themselves to all the food and drinks they wanted. Apparently, Max had a surprise for later that you prayed was not him putting on a Santa suit. But the conversation and drinks were flowing with ease, despite the blending of your two friend groups for the first time. 

It was a good party. 

Except right now, it was your turn to be the jealous one.

You watched, enviously, as one of your work friends leaned against the kitchen island with a glass of prosecco in her hand, while the other gripped Jake Seresin’s bicep. The jealousy wasn’t because of Jake or any attention he may have been giving her, mind you. 

(Because no, no - while you may no longer have had an intense hatred for Bradley’s nemesis cum friend, you still didn’t actively seek out his presence and you definitely didn’t want his attention - not for anything other than a great party as he left your - no, Bradley’s house later that night.)

No - you were jealous of her dress. Her gorgeous, deep garnet, midi-length, sleeveless dress. That looked absolutely stunning on her, though a touch too fancy for a Christmas party in South Park. She looked gorgeous, beautiful - statuesque. 

You absentmindedly fixed the bow on your wrap dress. Your long sleeved, silk wrap dress - that also did plenty to hide any unwanted lines or bumps around your stomach. And your arms. 

Weeks ago, back when the party was but a pipe dream, you’d been eyeing this absolutely adorable, sleeveless, mini-dress for the event. Like your friend’s dress, it probably erred on the side of slightly too fancy for a house party, but it had been so pretty and so perfect. It had sat in your cart online for at least two weeks - you just wanted to see if it would go on sale before you finally pulled the trigger. 

Until Thanksgiving. 

When you saw how unflattering your arms looked in the black cashmere tank you’d brought for dinner to your parents’ house. You thanked your past self for having the forethought to pack a cardigan, which didn’t come off until hours later after all your aunts and uncles and cousins had left and you were snuggled up in Bradley’s arms. 

Maybe you should try the HIIT classes on your Peloton instead of all those beginner rides you were still doing with Cody? Or get arm weights? The girls who worked out in the front two rows of your pilates class swore by them. They barely needed any input from the instructor - they just knew how to move their bodies that way. Or maybe you could ask your parents for a higher Class Pass subscription for Christmas? It would give you something to focus on while Bradley was gone. 

You hadn’t been this self conscious at the gala back in October and that dress was far more daring than anything you’d ever worn before; practically open back, with a risqué slit and a deep v neckline, to say nothing of what you had worn just for Bradley later that night. 

So, why now? Why tonight when you were supposed to be enjoying this time with your boyfriend and all your friends before the holidays? Why tonight, when everything else was going so right, were you being bogged down by this insecurity in your own home - no, no, it was Bradley’s home, not yours.

Was it because he was leaving? And you didn’t want one of his last images of you for three months to be your arms in a too tight dress? Because that was so shallow and silly and ridiculous. 

But what if it was true? Bradley was so pretty and handsome and charming and sweet, what if there was someone else on that boat that also thought he was pretty and handsome and charming and sweet? And you’d seen all the other aviators and naval personnel at that gala, they were stunning. What if Bradley thought that too - no, no, no. You weren’t going to focus on that for one of your last nights with him. 

Bradley loved you, Bradley proved how much he loved you every single day, Bradley catered to your every whim about this party with the biggest smile on his face. 

Bradley loved you. 

You were just being ridiculous and shallow and over dramatic and spiraling before he left. Bradley loved you, Bradley loved you. He loved you. He - was wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“How’s it going?” His voice rumbled in your ear and you leaned back against him. 

God, he was so strong and soft and warm and smelled so pretty all the time. You were going to miss him so much. You felt him fiddle with the bow tying your burgundy dress together and ducked your head. 

“Good, just came to get a drink.” Which you had been doing - about three minutes ago. “And wanted to make sure everyone in here was all set.”

Bradley hummed and swayed you back and forth in his arms. “Look at you, hostess with the mostess - or however that goes. You want me to make you another drink?”

You nodded. “Please.”

You both had decided to set up the bar in the kitchen, while keeping the food in the dining room and the dessert in the sitting room for later. Hours ago, before you had even hopped in the shower, the bar had been painstakingly set up and organized. Now, it needed some work. You cursed yourself for not checking on it earlier in the evening - you couldn’t believe your guests had been serving themselves from this all night. 

The glasses were no longer in neat rows, organized by type, the bowl with the limes was running dangerously low, and the caps to the liquor bottles and the champagne corks were scattered across the table. Without a second thought, you started organizing everything before Bradley could even get you a fresh glass. 

You could tell he wanted to say something, but - at least for that moment - he just rubbed your back and then poured you another glass of champagne, making sure to put the bottle back properly. Meanwhile, you scooped up the stray corks and foil and other bottle caps and threw them in the garbage underneath the sink. You had enough time, maybe you could pop those dirty wine glasses in the empty dishwasher? Wait - there was a puddle of condensation underneath an open bottle of champagne. You frowned. Clearly, someone hadn’t put it back in the bucket. Who would do that? Didn’t they know to put it back exactly where -  

“- You good?” 

Bradley’s voice was so soft and reassuring and you couldn’t believe you’d soon be going without hearing it for months. Unable to wait another second, you wrapped your arms around him in a hug, which he eagerly returned and you nuzzled his chest. Bradley’s shirt for the party was an exceptionally soft flannel in a solid navy color that you’d found on sale. He hated buying himself clothes, even more so spending a lot of money on them, but he always liked whatever you picked out for him. 

Maybe you could buy him some new clothes while he was gone? By now, you knew what he liked and didn’t like - right down to the colors and fabric types. He needed some new undershirts - and socks. You nuzzled your face into his chest. He felt so warm and soft and smelled so good. You had to buy a travel sized bottle of his cologne before he left. 

“You sure you’re okay, kid?” he asked again. 

“Just a little overwhelmed - and kinda tired.” You pulled your head back to look at him, but the two of you still kept your arms around the other. 

“Well,” Bradley started, “to be fair, you did do like all the work for this party, think it’s valid to be a little tired, sweetheart.”

“What? No?” You were offended on his behalf. “Bubs, you made all the food and -”

“- Yeah, but you helped with the food and did all the work getting the house ready.”

You cocked your head, considering this. “I mean, I did. Didn’t I?” Bradley chuckled. “Okay, fine - I’m tired. But it’s a good tired, I think?”

“A good tired, huh?” His thumbs were making the most soothing circles on your hips.

“Like a heart full tired? A changing for dinner after a spending a day at the beach tired - no, wait. A post gala eating french fries in bed and watching Moonstruck tired?” An after you fucked me so hard I could barely remember my own name tired. 

“You should’ve just led with that last one.” He kissed your temple and ran his hands up and down the silk fabric covering your arms. “Would’ve known exactly what you were talking about then.”

You lightly shoved his chest and then pulled him back in for a hug. “I’m also gonna miss you a lot…”

That was the crux of it. You were going to miss him so much you thought your heart was going to burst. And enjoying all the Christmas festivities tonight - on the second Saturday in December - made it all the more apparent that Bradley wasn’t going to be with you over the holidays. He wouldn’t be with you again until March. 

You two had gotten through plenty of training missions, short diplomatic visits, and off-sites - on your end - over the last eight months. But this was Bradley’s first, real deployment. 

God, if only Emily Simpson could see you now. You and Bradley had both been so cocky, so confident back in October at the gala about how effortlessly you handled the time spent apart. But you hadn’t been staring down a three month long deployment back then. 

Three months was a long time. Six pay cycles, at least twelve trips to the grocery, four off-sites, the entirety of Q1, five nail appointments, twenty four pilates classes, and if he knocked you up that very night, it could be the entirety of a first trimester of pregnancy. Not that you wanted to be pregnant - at least not for a while. Like quite a while. It was just a way to compare time. You didn’t want to be pregnant. 

Three months, three months, three months. 

And then he’d come home to you. To you and your life together.

That’s why the party had to be perfect. Because it would remind Bradley of home and all he had to look forward to when he came back in three months. 

“I’m gonna miss you, too.  Never really had someone to miss before on one of these - not like this.” 

And then he kissed you - quick, little butterfly kisses that soon turned bolder and more daring, especially considering there were five or so other people milling about the kitchen. Bradley’s tongue licked your bottom lip, eventually coaxing your mouth open. He tasted like the old fashioned you saw him drinking earlier. You slid your arms up his chest to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer and fiddled with the ends of his soft hair. 

The sounds of the party disappeared around you - you could no longer hear Frank Sinatra singing Jingle Bells, Jake and Georgie talking in the corner, or Javy getting drinks for him and his girlfriend to your right.

All you could focus on was Bradley. And how warm and soft and strong he felt in your arms and how -

“- Fuck’s sake, Bradshaw. Do you want us to leave or…”

You turned around to face Jake and Georgie, the latter of whom looked beyond embarrassed, and leaned back against Bradley’s chest. Shit - you’d forgotten you had an audience, especially Jake and Javy.

“Sorry…” You felt warm all over at getting caught. Normally, you and Bradley weren’t big on PDA, but you’d been needy lately - both of you had been. 

Further down to your right, Javy just chuckled. “Give ‘em a break. You’d be the same if you could hold someone down long enough.” Bradley laughed, while Jake turned beat red.

While him and Javy started chirping at each other, Bradley took your hand and led you out of the kitchen, past all the guests congregating in the dining room and over towards the sitting room. 

“Here, I know what’ll cheer you up.”

There were only a couple people in this part of the house - Caroline and Max, Bob and Callie, and Natasha and Rory, the latter of whom had gone with her to the gala back in October. They were a relatively quiet crowd and looked to be captivated by a story Max was telling. But then again, people were always captivated by Max. 

“…so I say to Garoppolo, ‘you really wanna get the shit beaten out of you for the second time this week?’ Because a guy who folds in front of the fucking Broncos’ defensive line is not one I think can handle being humiliated like this on - aww, if it isn’t Bradley-Boy and our lovely hostess. Come here and give me a kiss, sweetheart.” You chuckled and started over towards Max. “No, not you, darling. I meant Bradley-Boy.” 

With giggles and jeers, everyone turned towards Bradley, who was definitely blushing. But ever the dutiful host, he trudged over towards Max and planted a sloppy kiss on his forehead. 

You had met Max over a year ago via your best friend from college, Caroline. Bradley, on the other hand, had met Max in late March at Mission Beach, right before the two of you had started going out. 

Since moving back to California, Bradley had taken up surfing again and relished his weekend mornings out in the chilly Pacific. It had taken a couple weeks for the guys to realize they were both regulars and get past the initial head nod greeting, but after that they got on like a house on fire. Despite Max being a typical nepotism baby, VC-firm-bro type and Bradley the outgoing, naval man, they were each other’s best friend.

And to be perfectly honest, you thought they may have been a little in love with each other.

Who knows, maybe you would have been at Bradley and Max’s holiday party if you hadn’t met him in April.

“All good now, peaches?” Bradley teased and then turned to everyone else in their little group. “Just so you know, the story ends with Jimmy G challenging Maxi-Pad to a closest to the pin contest and Max shanking his tee shot.”

You laughed and wrapped your free arm back around Bradley’s waist. “Was this how you planned to cheer me up?”

“Oh, god. What’d you do now, Rooster?” Natasha teased. 

“Can I call you ‘Rooster?’” Max asked, much to Caroline’s delight.

“Absolutely fucking not,” Bradley said and then turned towards Natasha. “And nothing, just trying to do everything so can to make sure my girl has a lovely evening.” Everyone let out various sighs and swoons, except Nat and Max, who feigned gagging. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

He grabbed your free hand again and brought you over to the upright piano in the corner, next to where Callie and Bob were lounging on the loveseat. You desperately hoped Bradley was going to play for you - maybe even some Christmas carols. He had such a natural talent for it, even beyond his usual Hard Deck repertoire of that damn Jerry Lee Lewis song. He could play Debussy, Ravel, Schumann - anything, really. You figured he’d start off with Jingle Bells or something like that, but he surprised you with something new.

Bradley’s fingers twinkled out the opening notes to Linus and Lucy and you, and the others in the sitting room, couldn’t help but laugh. He had been right - this did cheer you up. You had always loved the Peanuts. 

Growing up, you’d gone to the Charles Schulz Museum in Santa Rosa too many times to count. It became your favorite place during your parents’ divorce and you always begged your dad to take you whenever you were having a bad day. But then, when the divorce had been finalized and you, your dad and brother eventually moved down to Berkeley, you didn’t get the opportunity to go as often. But your love for the cartoon characters never died and you had the sneaking suspicion that Bradley had learned the song for you - this was the first time you’d ever heard him play it.

You took a hearty sip of your champagne and leaned your arms on the top of the piano, eventually resting your cheek against your fist. Your cheeks hurt from the massive smile stretching across your face as you looked fondly at Bradley. He was concentrating so hard, his tongue was peeking out of his mouth. And his long, graceful fingers were flying across the keys. 

You couldn’t imagine how long it took him to learn this if he was already off book. Did you mention his fingers? His hands? God, they were beautiful. Strong and long and corded - was that the right word? You recalled it from those regency romance novels you had hidden on your Kindle. God, you loved him so much. So fucking much. You’d never loved a person this much before - oh, you were going to miss him so much.

“You two are just like Lucy and Schroeder,” Callie cooed, snapping you out of your thoughts and causing Bradley to fumble a couple of notes. He also was blushing, which was sweet. 

A couple more people filtered into the sitting room, drawn in by the music, and soon people were throwing out requests for Bradley to play while others chatted in the background. He took Pete’s suggestion of Jingle Bells and soon played a jazzy version of the song. 

While Bradley played, the older man came up to you to chat. Penny couldn’t make it to the party, which was admittedly a bit of a disappointment, but she was hoping to stop by later once things wound down a bit at the Hard Deck. 

“Hell of a party, kid.” He toasted you with his beer. 

“Thanks, I just wanted to do something nice for Bradley.”

“Pretty sure you could’ve gotten a pizza and he would’ve been happy.”

You considered that. “True, but that hardly sounds fun - plus, this way I could get a new outfit.”

Pete smiled and you both glanced over towards the piano for a moment as Bradley got Natasha and Bob to sing along with him. It was nice seeing them all carefree and happy and just lighter. Bradley glanced over his shoulder at you and winked. 

“It’s nice seeing him like this,” Pete said. “Hell, last Christmas it was like pulling teeth to get the kid over to Penny’s for Christmas Eve and to see him get a tree and have people over at his place is just - it makes me really happy. Sorry if that’s corny or -”

“- No,” you reassured him, “well, maybe a little. But corny is good sometimes. Especially around the holidays.”

“You guys gonna do gifts tomorrow or…”

You shook your head. “Nah, we’re gonna do them tonight after everyone leaves.”

Pete took a sip of his beer and nodded. “The kid wouldn’t stop talking about your gift, I swear he told everyone on base.”

You felt yourself heat up and glanced over at Bradley again. “Really?” Pete nodded. “I’m nervous now, we promised we were only doing one present, so I hope he likes mine...”

“He will,” Pete sounded certain. “You think you guys will do this at your place every year? Maybe start a new tradition?”

That was a lovely thought. Celebrating Christmas with Bradley for the next x amount of years. Plus, doing this before Christmas would give everyone the opportunity to get together before the actual holidays. 

“Oh, I’d love to,” you gushed, “but it’s Bradley’s call. It’s his house - what?”

Pete cut you off with a look. “Come on, by now you know it’s your house as much as Bradley’s…”

Oh, gosh. You hoped so - one day, at least. The two of you barely spent a night apart, baring whenever one of you was away for work. You barely considered your apartment your home anymore. Instead, it was on the couch in Bradley’s living room, watching TV. Or cooking breakfast together on the weekends and watching Sunday Morning at the kitchen table. Laying beside him in bed at night, his big arms wrapped around you, as you whispered how much you loved each other. You had never felt this way before Bradley, like another person was home. 

And you wanted to be home all the time. 

You could feel the heat creep up your neck, the warmth only amplified by Bradley’s soothing voice singing Let It Snow. 

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Pete apologized, “I just wanted you to know that I can see how much you guys care about each other. And he’s my kid - at the end of the day, I just want him to be happy.” He laid a reassuring hand on your shoulder and you ducked your head before nodding.

Back when you had first met him, you had imagined that gaining Pete’s approval was how you would have felt had Bradley’s parents been alive to give it to you. You thought about them often - more often than you’d ever let Bradley think - and especially as of late. Would they have liked you? Would they have gotten along with your parents? From what you’d been told, they would have made amazing grandparents. Maybe Bradley would even have had more siblings? Maybe, maybe, maybe.

“He makes me really happy, too,” you whispered. Pete pulled you in for a hug and then the two of you just watched Bradley playing for a few moments while the party continued around you two. 

“I’m gonna get another beer, you want anything?” Pete asked. 

You just shook your head. “Nah, I’m good for now, but thanks again for coming. It means a lot to both of us.”

“Wouldn’t miss it, just make sure the kid doesn’t drink too much. He always gets a little chatty…” And then Pete set off towards the kitchen, leaving you alone, but only for a moment until you heard Max’s voice in the hallway.

“Caro, darling, will you help me with something outside…” You crept over towards him, curious to see what he was up to and why he needed Caro’s help.

Caroline didn’t even look up from her phone. “I’m not giving you a handjob, darling.”

“Oh, please don’t,” you drawled, alerting them both to your presence, “Mr. Harrington already thinks we’re delinquents, can’t have him thinking we associate with them, too,” you said referring to your - no, Bradley’s neighbor. 

Mr. Harrington hadn’t exactly called you and Bradley delinquents - rather, he had called you a fresh young lady after you had unknowingly flipped him off at an intersection in another neighborhood, only to find out that he was the crotchety old man that lived next door to Bradley. He had been waiting for you in the driveway when you’d gotten home a few minutes later, demanding to talk to Bradley about you. But the old man hadn’t stood a chance with you and Bradley had just stood on the porch with a proud smile on his face as you gave him a piece of your mind. Since then, he’d just pass silent judgment whenever he saw you outside.

Max held up two fingers. “I’ll be on my best behavior, Scout’s honor.”

“It’s three fingers, dumbass.”

He breezed past you and started towards the door, gesturing for Caroline to follow him. “Good thing I was never a Boy Scout then…”

“Please, Max. Just tell me if you’re going to -”

“- Secrets, secrets are only fun unless you don’t share with anyone -”

“- That’s not even how it goes!” 

Max shrugged and grabbed Caroline’s hand, pulling her close to his side. “It’ll be fun, we promise! Plus, maybe Max won’t even come back to the party…”

Oh, he was definitely doing the Santa thing. But at this point, maybe it would be fun and memorable? And maybe you were just drunk enough to let it happen. 

“Fine, fine. As long as Max doesn’t come back to the party, you can do whatever you have planned -” 

Max cut you off with a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, love. Now, Caro! Your assistance, please!”

You waved them off towards the front door and made your way back to the sitting room where Bradley was taking requests for his next song. 

His eyes were scanning the room for whom you realized was you and a great, big smile spread across his face. “Nah, I got one already. Just needed my girl in here for this.” You chuckled and walked over towards the piano. “Figured we had to end on a high note, plus I heard a rumor Santa’s coming…”

There were hoots and hollers throughout the room, which didn’t let up even as Bradley played the first notes of the song he apparently needed you for assistance. 

“I’ll sing the first few lines, but then you gotta take over, alright, sweetheart?”

You sat next to him on the narrow bench and giggled, not quite knowing what he had up his sleeve, but more than ready to go along for the ride. “You got it, rocketman.”

Bradley pecked you on the lips and then turned to the room as he played. 

“I really can’t stay…baby, it’s cold outside…I’ve got to go ‘way…baby, it’s cold outside…”

Oh god. 

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

Hours later, after all your guests had left, fuller and far drunker than they’d been when they’d arrived, you and Bradley were tidying up the living room. The dishwasher was rumbling in the kitchen, the first of many loads you’d have to do tonight and tomorrow, but it was drowned out by the music still playing on the Sonos, while the extra food had been put away in the fridge.

From your spot across the room where you were fluffing the couch cushions, you glanced over towards Bradley. He sat, leaning against the chaise lounge, and idly sipped from a bottle of champagne that he kept putting down on the floor - though on a coaster, mind you. His hair was perfectly tousled and messy and he had a pleased smile on his face as he stared at the Christmas tree in front of him. His right hand was absentmindedly running up and down his thigh, just begging for you to ride it.

You joined him on the floor and he wordlessly passed the bottle of champagne to you before throwing his arm around your shoulders. 

“You did good, kid,” he said suddenly. 

A smile lit up your face. “Really?” Brady chuckled at your earnestness. “You’re not just saying that because this is like the first halfway decent party you’ve ever -”

“- Hey! I’ve been to plenty of decent parties! But I think - I think that this might be the best one yet.”

As a reward for his sweetness, you gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You think everyone got along? I only overheard one argument between Caro and Jake.” And it had been over the latest cryptocurrency scandal of all things. 

“Yeah, but to be fair, I think trauma bonding over your singing really brought everyone together.”

You were not as bad as Bradley had said - at the very least, you could carry a tune. Granted, you wouldn’t be on the Voice anytime soon, but if you were an SNL cast member and needed to sing for a sketch, you might be okay. And no one really focused on the actual singing during Baby It’s Cold Outside - it wasn’t exactly the paragon of Christmas songs or social norms. 

But it was just about the perfect duet, in that it was a crowd pleaser, a little slutty, and campy as hell. And as it so happened, you had been feeling a little slutty with all the champagne you had drunk throughout the evening. Plus, with Bradley on the keys and no one else sober enough to make fun of your less than stellar singing skills, you had been a glutton for attention. You had used your champagne coupe as a microphone and had only spilled a couple drops - at first.

“- But baby, it's cold outside -”

“ - This welcome has been -”

“ - How lucky that you dropped in -”

“ - So nice and warm -”

“ - Look out the window at that storm -”

“ - My sister will be suspicious -”

“ - Gosh, your lips look delicious -” Bradley kissed your proffered hand and you shimmied around the piano bench, eventually draping yourself over his shoulders while he continued playing.

Would you regret it in the morning? Probably. Did the song have a weird history? Yes. But it was your goddamn Christmas party! And you had wanted to have fun and fawn over your boyfriend. It had also been a good distraction from what you had correctly assumed was Max planning to crash the party as Santa with a sleigh full of presents for everyone. But Max was richer than Croesus; he could afford it.

“Come on, Bradshaw. How’s she been this year? Naughty or nice?”

You shot Bradley a glance, curious as to what his answer would be. But he just smiled wryly and toasted Max with his drink before taking a sip.

You closed the distance between the two of you and whispered in his ear, “Clever boy…”

He grabbed your ass, thankfully out of sight of your guests. “My smart girl…”

“Is that what you want me to be tonight?”

Frankly, you had been shocked Bradley hadn’t kicked everyone out then and there. 

But now you were cozy and tired in all the best ways and had Bradley to yourself for the rest of the evening. You burrowed your face into his chest and pressed a couple kisses to the column of his neck, suddenly desperate to touch him. It seemed Bradley was of the same mindset and carefully settled you on his lap. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling you closer and you shifted your attention to his lips. 

Somehow, the two of you wound up laying on the floor at the edge of the Christmas tree. The soft lights made Bradley’s brown eyes appear like pools of chocolate and you flushed. He groaned as you rolled your hips against his lap, already feeling the bulge forming in his jeans. Shit - were you going to fuck underneath the Christmas tree? Like properly fuck on the floor underneath the Christmas tree.

You started grinding against him, desperate to be closer, and then kissed along his neck in the hopes of leaving a reminder of this night for him. You peered up at the Christmas tree, lost in the beauty of the moment, when you suddenly noticed something. 

The presents.

The presents under the tree.

The three presents under the tree. 

Except…

There were only supposed to be two presents under the tree. One from each of you. You had been very clear about that right after Thanksgiving. Had even set a price limit.

Fuck. Oh, no. No, no, no. You pulled back and Bradley chased your lips with his own.

“Bubs! We said one present each!” 

He shrugged underneath you and kept rubbing his hands in soothing circles on your hips. “It’s nothing - well, it’s not nothing. But it’s just something I’ve been thinking about for a while and I figured this would be a good time.”

“But - but I only got you one!” 

Oh god - oh god. You ruined it. You ruined Bradley’s Christmas. You knew you should’ve gotten him that Otis Redding vinyl, too. But a Theragun? What had you been thinking? That was such a dumb gift. So impersonal, so boring, so basic. It was on three different gift guides from the Strategist for fuck’s sake. You figured it would be good for his back while he was deployed, you knew it had been giving him a lot of trouble lately. But now that Bradley had given you two gifts? In two separate boxes? 

You didn’t think the ornament you’d gotten him counted as a separate gift. Tacking it onto the box was just something your family had always done.

Clearly noticing the panic on your face, Bradley sat up slightly. “Hey, hey. It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s -”

“- I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to ruin everything. I knew I should’ve had a back up present for you-”

He said your name firmly and you looked up at him. “- You didn’t ruin anything, alright? Hey, why don’t you open it first and then we can talk about it, okay?”

“Okay…”

You reached out for the present like it was going to explode, barely even taking notice of how nicely it had been wrapped. (Granted, you were still you, so you did actually notice, but probably would have fawned over the quaint wrapping paper and grosgrain ribbon a bit more had you not already been wigging out.) Next to you, Bradley bit his lip as he watched you peel through the paper. Why was he so nervous? He always gave you the best presents.

At first, there was nothing but a small gift box. It wasn’t terribly heavy. And it definitely wasn’t jewelry. Mainly because any of the jewelry you actually would have liked was definitely not within the spending limit, which Bradley knew. But also, it just didn’t feel like jewelry. It couldn’t have been an ornament, he wouldn’t have been this nervous.

So, what the fuck was it?

You slid your finger underneath the flap of the box and popped the lid open. But then there was the tissue paper. Goddamnit, Bradley! Why was he so good at wrapping presents! You glanced up at him only to see that he was blushing. Properly blushing. Like pink neck, pink cheeks - hell, even the tips of his ears were pink - blushing. 

Unable to take the suspense a moment longer, you dove into the tissue paper to find -

“- A key?” Your fingers gently picked up the offending object, only belatedly noticing that the key fob matched your favorite work tote bag. 

Bradley nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been wanting to ask you to move in with me for ages, it’s just we had so much time until it would become an issue, but then I got deployed and I know your lease will just about be up by the time I get back in the spring. So, I figured now would be a good time to ask if you wanted to move in with me? But if you think it’s too soon, I can totally wait. However long it takes for you to be comfortable with it is fine with me - I just want to have my life with you.”

“Bubs…” your voice was thick. “I uhh -”

“- I always want to come home to you - if you’ll have me?”

Oh god, oh god, oh god. You let out a disbelieving laugh. You would have Bradley Bradshaw in any way you could get him. He was your home.

You wiped away a wayward tear. “Bradley, this is - this is so unbelievably perfect. Yes, yes, I will move with you.”

He surged forward to kiss you and you temporarily forgot all your previous worries because Bradley wanted to move in with you. He wanted to share furniture and go grocery shopping for food that would go in the same fridge. He wanted to wake up beside you every single morning and come home to you every single evening and go to sleep beside you every single night. He wanted everything. And that’s what you wanted to give him.

“God, I love you so much.”

You never got tired of hearing him say that. “I love you, too. Sorry I made such a big deal about the presents…”

“No, I’m sorry. I should’ve just put it in with the other gift, I get how it could have thrown you off.”

He was being nice and not pushing it for the moment, which you really appreciated. “Say, why don’t you open your gift from me and then I’ll open your other one?”

You crawled over towards the other two presents under the tree and gave the one that said to; rocketman to Bradley, while you took the other one with your name on it. It was decently sized and relatively light. The thing with Bradley that always made you nervous was that he gave the best presents.

For your birthday, he had not only organized a trip for the two of you out to Catalina Island, but he had also learned how to fucking sail Penny’s boat, so he could be the one to take you there himself. He had been so excited and had looked so cute in his white linen pants and navy blue button down and you swore you had never been more attracted to him. 

And then, for your six month anniversary, he had somehow gotten you two into Addison out in Carmel Valley for dinner and then followed that up with a trip to the drive-in to see a special showing of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Though to be fair, neither of you had paid as much attention to the movie as you had been too busy necking each other in the backseat of the Bronco.

In short, he was a prince among men. Well, except when he wasn’t. But that wasn’t often. So, you were excited, but wary to open his gift, knowing nothing could possibly top the house key.

You tore through the wrapping paper to find another box similar to the one from earlier, except this one was heavier. Beneath the tissue paper laid a thick white envelope and an apron in a Liberty pattern. Your smile grew as you opened the envelope and saw that Bradley had gifted you cooking lessons for the next three months.

“Bubs.” You nudged his shoulder. “This is perfect, thank you. The apron is super cute, too.”

Bradley chuckled. “Now you can stop wearing mine and hopefully stop burning risotto -”

“- It was one time!” 

“Yeah and you almost burned down your apartment.” You made a face and he made one right back before turning serious. “But I thought it would be nice, something for you to do while I’m gone.”

You kissed his cheek. “I’m excited and I’m gonna make you the best dinner you’ve ever had when you come home to me, alright?”

“It’s a date.” 

“Perfect, now open yours!” You pushed the present towards him. 

Bradley was one of those people that opened presents like they were going to save the wrapping paper, which meant he did it slowly and purposefully. This normally didn’t bother you, but you were already a little on edge from earlier and had to sit on your hands to stop you from ripping the paper off yourself.

First, he took off the little ornament you had affixed to the package. Harkening back to your first date, you had gotten him a Saturn V Rocket ornament to add to the tree, giving your rocketman something to aspire to.

He shook his head. “I’ll get there one day, sweetheart…” he said fondly. “Now let’s see what we have here.”

The nerves settled in your stomach again and you barely let him unwrap the present before you jumped on him with an explanation.

“Wait, is this one of those -”

“ - It’s a Theragun. I know I make fun of you for having a sore back and being old a lot, but I thought this could help when you’re deployed and I’m not around to tend to your every need,” you teased.

Bradley conceded a nod. “You do give good back massages…” You preened. “But I get these ads on my Instagram all the time, so this is perfect, thank you.”

“I figured it wasn’t something you’d buy for yourself and it’ll come in hand -”

“- I bet it’s a wicked strong vibrator - owww!”

“Bradley!” You giggled. Holy shit, you hadn’t even thought of that. There were like five different speeds on that thing and six different attachments. Fuck. “In that case, maybe I should keep it…”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He slid the box behind his back and you crawled over to steal it away from him.

But before you could wrap your arms around him, Bradley pulled you into his lap and eventually the Theragun was pushed away and the two of you were sprawled out on the floor making out like a bunch of horny teenagers again.

Goddamn - you really were gonna fuck underneath the Christmas tree, weren’t you? Now that would be the perfect memory for Bradley to take with him. Festive and fun and spontaneous.

His hands felt sinful as they crept up your thighs. It was like he was mapping out the slowest route to his destination, especially as they cupped your ass and ground your body against his. Suddenly, you let out a hiss as your elbow hit the hardwood floor, but quickly reassured Bradley that you were okay once he stopped to check in with you.

He whispered your name. “I need you so badly.”

“- Fuck, me too. Want you to take me right here -”

“- Owww,” Bradley let out a groan against your lips.

You immediately pulled back, concern lacing your features. “Shit, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just - I don’t think we should do this on the floor?”

“But it’s very spur of the moment?” You glanced around the living room, past the Christmas tree and the wrapping paper from your respective presents. “What about the couch?”

“We just got it dry-cleaned - again.”

You sat further back on his lap and Bradley propped himself up on his elbows. Your wrap dress draped prettily over your bare thighs. “We can put a towel down?”

“Isn’t it upstairs?”

You made a face. “I could go get it? Or we could break out a new one?”

“Then I might as well come upstairs with you -”

“- But I want it to be spontaneous!”

He rolled his hips and you sighed. “We can be spontaneous upstairs…”

“Yeah, but…” You could feel the tears starting to form and your throat closing up.

Bradley tried to get in your line of sight after you ducked your head. “Hey, what is it? It’s alright.”

You sniffled. “I just want you to have some good memories before you leave and be spontaneous - especially since during the party I was pretty stressed and uptight -” The last word came out bitterly, but Bradley didn’t let you finish your sentence. 

“- Hey, none of that, alright? I knew you were a little stressed, but just chalked it up to the party. What’s really going on, sweetheart?”

You wanted to tell him. That you were going to miss him and wanted him to be able to think of the two of you doing all these fun and exciting and wonderful things before he left. That you didn’t want him to think of you crying and puffy eyed and sad. That you didn’t want him to think of you having sex in your bed, like any other night, but how you couldn’t even make it upstairs because you needed each other so much, so desperately and had to make due with the living room floor. 

Just say you were tired. Just say you were tired. 

But when Bradley took your hand and threaded your fingers together and started drawing circles across your palm, the tears came. And came and came and didn’t stop. You rubbed at your eyes with your free hand and repositioned yourself to lay beside him. 

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, come here.” Bradley wrapped his arm around your shoulders and let you rest your head on his chest. “Shh, shh, it’s okay, honey.” 

Once the tears slightly abated, you took in a deep breath to ground yourself. “I wanted everything to be perfect for you since you’re not going to be home for Christmas and all this stuff went wrong -”

“- Sweetheart, baby, no, no. It didn’t go wrong, everything went really really right.”

“Really?” you whispered.

Bradley chuckled. “Yeah, best Christmas I’ve had since - fuck, I can’t remember when. Come here.” He wrapped his arms around you.

“I know it was dumb to be worried about it - and to let myself get upset over it - but I think I was just so focused on the party and the presents and making everything perfect because I don’t want to think too much about you leaving.” You sniffled. “And I feel like that makes me seem childish or like I can’t handle this - your job, I mean. But I’m really just going to miss you, so fucking much. And I’ve never felt like this before.”

The look in Bradley’s eyes after you unloaded all that made you feel ten times lighter and you regretted not saying anything earlier. 

“Sweetheart…” He tucked your hair behind your ear. “It’s definitely not dumb to be worried about stuff like that and I know you can handle all of this - I’m not worried in that respect. I just want you to know how much I appreciated every single thing you’ve done for me these last couple weeks trying to make sure I had a good Christmas. And I know it’s cliche to say, but it’s the goddamn truth - I don’t care what we do for Christmas as long as I get to spend it at home with you, alright?”

Your heart soared and you felt the tears forming again at his words. I don’t care what we do for Christmas as long as I get to spend it at home with you. Because in the end, that was all that really mattered. You just kept your reply simple. “Alright, rocketman.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You kissed him again. “I love you so much, bubs.”

“Even though I’m old and don’t think we should fuck on the living room floor?” 

You chuckled at his attempt to bring some levity into an otherwise heavy conversation. “Yes, Bradley. I love you even though you wouldn’t let me fuck you on the living room floor…”

This time, Bradley pulled you closer, so your body was spread out on top of him and kissed you, licking your bottom lip before opening your mouth up to him. His hands snuck underneath the skirt of your silk dress, skirting the edge of your panties. You sighed. His hands were calloused and a little rough, but they still touched you like you were the most precious thing in the world. 

“Hold up, I never said I wouldn’t let you, I just said I don’t think - hey!” Bradley tried to fend off your tickle attack, but could only get a few words out between his giggles. “Stop, you know I’m old!”

Your ridiculously handsome, thirty-six year old, naval aviator boyfriend was giggling on the floor of your house because your were tickling his sides. If only you could show this version of Bradley to the Navy - maybe then they wouldn’t take him away from you at Christmas. Stupid US Military Industrial Complex. Fucking Lockheed Martin. 

“Also, are you still upset that I got you two presents? Because if you are, can I just make you come once tonight? Level the field.”

You giggled. “Shut up.” Your kiss cut off any reply he had been about to give and you licked his bottom lip, coaxing open his mouth. 

“Uh, uh, uh.” You paused and tilted your head slightly to look Bradley in the eye. “Now, what did Santa ask earlier, huh? You been naughty or nice this year?”

There were two ways in which this could play out - with two different, though ultimately satisfying results. One would play out relatively quickly - and the other would ensure you were occupied all night. 

“Nice?” 

Bradley clicked his tongue. “Don’t know about that…”

“Why not? Haven’t I been good?” You pouted, completely exaggerated, which Bradley picked up on in an instant.

“Good girls don’t typically have to ask if they’ve been good…”

“Maybe I don’t want to be good tonight…”

Bradley sucked in a breath as you snuck your hand underneath his shirt and teased the waistband of his jeans. His skin was hot to the touch beneath your fingers as you unbuttoned his shirt. You leaned forward to press little butterfly kisses to his neck and gradually made your way down past the little tufts of hair on his chest. 

“Please touch me, sweetheart. Please.” 

There was a carnal need inside you to mark his skin. To give him proof of your love and need for him, so that he could look at the marks in the mirror until they faded. A kiss across his neck, a soft bite on his shoulder, another on his bicep by his tattoo. You’re mine. Mine, mine, mine. And I want everyone to know. 

“God, Bradley. You’re so beautiful,” you whispered against his skin. “So beautiful and all mine.”

Bradley let out a whine as your teeth grazed against the sensitive flesh on his neck. “Fuck, I love you.”

His hands inched up your thighs, getting closer to the throbbing heat between your legs. Maybe it was the festive spirit, the fact that Bradley had asked you to move in with him, or that he was shipping out in 28 hours for three months, but you were pathetically wet already. Desperate and needy and as naughty as he had joked earlier. 

“I can feel the heat pouring off you, sweetheart.” 

“Can we go - ahhh - can we go upstairs, please?”

He pulled back slightly. “What happened to fucking on the living room floor?” he teased. 

“Don’t want to fuck up your old man back anymore - Bradley!” you cried out as he smacked your ass. 

“Old man, huh?” His smile was sinful and you were putty in his hands.

You widened your eyes, trying to appear contrite. “Sorry, sir. It won’t happen - Bradley!” He cut you off again, but this time because he was tickling your sides and your giggles made it impossible to speak. “Ta-take me upstairs, bubs - please. Don’t - don’t want you to hold back.”

“Now how could I refuse that?”

Gradually, the two of you made your way upstairs to the bedroom, though with a couple of breaks in between for Bradley to press you up against the walls and on the staircase. You’d have bruises tomorrow, you were sure. But you wanted them to last - to be something to remember this night by for the weeks and months to come. 

You landed heavily on the bed, bouncing slightly, and peered up at Bradley. His bare chest was rising and falling steadily with each breath he took as he looked you over, like he was trying to memorize you. 

Without breaking eye contact, you rose to your knees and pulled at the pretty little bow tying your wrap dress. Hours ago, you’d felt self conscious about your body in front of everyone else, but at that moment you felt like the most beautiful girl in the world. Bradley’s eyes widened as he took in the way you slowly pushed the silk dress off your shoulders, leaving you only in your burgundy bra and panties. It wasn’t exactly a matching set, but the colors matched and that was enough for the two of you that night. 

“God, you’re gorgeous.”

Bradley lunged forward, causing you to fall back against the pillows and you wrapped your legs around his hips with a gleeful cry, which he promptly cut off with his lips. 

After spending ample time just kissing you and running his hands up and down your body, Bradley lavished attention on your breasts, licking and biting and sucking on them like a man possessed. Your nipples were peaked to attention, thanks to the slight chill in the bedroom and his thorough ministrations. With one hand, he paid special attention to the skin just below your nipple, rubbing his middle finger along the tender flesh while thumbing at the raised bud. Meanwhile, his other hand kept trekking downward towards your clit. 

“Oh god!” you cried out against his lips as he slid his fingers inside you and crooked them just right. 

“So fucking wet, sweetheart.”

Fuck. You could feel yourself clenching around him, desperate for something more. You were needy for him that night. Needy to have your boyfriend all to yourself. To give yourself to him completely. Your orgasm was well and truly building up inside you, but you wanted to come on his cock first. There would be plenty more opportunities that night to come apart in other ways. 

You’d work him all through the night if you had to just to get your fix before he left. The thought made you desperate. 

“Bu-bubs, please. I need more - need your cock inside me.” You pulled him closer, grazing your thighs against his throbbing cock. 

Bradley groaned. “Such a needy fucking thing, bucking against my fingers like that, huh?” You whined. “But I’m gonna fuck you nice and slow, yeah. Make sure you savor it.”

It sounded fucking sinful the way your cunt was sucking in Bradley’s fingers. He’d begun scissoring them inside you so as to not have to remove them just yet. 

More. More. More. You chanted the words mindlessly in your head. Mine. Mine. Mine. 

Finally, he pulled out his fingers and shamelessly dried them off on your breasts. “You ready?” You nodded frantically. “Don’t think either of us is gonna last long.”

No, you didn’t think so either. But you didn’t want to prolong this. You needed to be close to him and to know he was real and good and yours. At least for tonight. 

Knowing each other as you did, you raised your hips slightly, letting Bradley to slip inside you. You both moaned, you loving the stretch and him loving the tight warmth. You wrapped your arm around his neck, bringing his lips closer to yours, but not daring to lean in those final few centimeters to touch, and instead just breathed against each other. 

“Fuck,” you rasped against his lips, “I love you.”

“Love you so much.” He snapped his hips against yours and you cried out. “Gonna miss you.”

You ducked your head to swipe your lips across the scar on his neck. “Can’t wait for you to come home to me.”

Home. Home. Home. Bradley wouldn’t just be coming back to San Diego in three months: he would be coming home - to you. And to this great, big, beautiful house he wanted to share with you. And to the life he wanted to share with you. 

He groaned your name. “I’ve wanted this for so long. Can’t believe it’s happening.”

Tears pricked your eyes and you bridged the gap to kiss him. “Bubs, I’m so close, please.”

“Tell me how to get you there? I wanna wait for you.” 

If he kept saying things like that, you wouldn’t be too far behind. Without breaking eye contact, you brought Bradley’s hand down to your clit and he played with the sensitive nub. You keened against his hand, which was coupled with a particularly deep thrust of his cock. You felt that coil in your belly finally unraveling.

“‘M close, feels so good. Again…”

He repeated the action again and again, telling you how gorgeous you were as you took his cock and how much he loved you and needed you and you felt like the luckiest girl in the world. Because for tonight you were.

With a strangled cry of his name, you came and true to his word, Bradley followed shortly after. Fuck. He felt so good. He made you feel so good, so full, so loved. 

“Good girl, such a good girl for me.” He peppered kisses up and down your neck and across your cheeks, before settling on your lips. The two of you sat there like that for a few moments, trying to even out your breathing and be as close together as possible. 

But eventually Bradley had to pull out and you whimpered at the loss. He settled you back against the pillows and then started cleaning you up with the towel in his nightstand. Before he got to your still leaking cunt, he scooped up some of your cum with his fingers and brought it to your lips. 

“Open.” You did so without a second thought and cleaned off his fingers, getting high off the taste of the two of you mixed together. “Good girl.”

Then you let yourself get settled underneath the covers. You could go to the bathroom in a few minutes because right now you wanted to be with Bradley. Your bodies were both hot and sticky underneath the white sheets, but you couldn’t think of anywhere else you wanted to be than in his arms. 

“I’m gonna miss you so much, bubs.” You cupped his cheek tenderly, like he would disappear at any moment. A nagging little voice at the back of your mind said that he would, in fact, do just that - on Monday morning. But that night he was yours. 

Bradley nuzzled your hand, eventually pressing a kiss to your palm. “It’s not too long, just three months.”

“Three months without you.” Kiss. “Without your singing.” Kiss. “Your cooking.” Kiss. “Your smile and your silly little mustache.” Kiss. Kiss. “Three months without you, rocketman.” 

Your eyes were swimming with tears, but they were properly dripping down Bradley’s cheeks. 

“But we still have tonight.”

You still had tonight. And you’d be in each other’s arms till the morning light. 

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

Two weeks later, as you sat in your childhood bedroom on Christmas Eve, you were at once hit with a startling realization: it wasn’t your home anymore. It hadn’t been in years, really. Not since you’d officially moved out after college. But that fact had never been so apparent until you were waiting for the Facetime call to connect to Bradley. 

Your home was in San Diego with your friends and your job. Your home was with your boyfriend, snuggled up on the couch watching TV, perusing the aisles of the farmer’s market, watching him surf, and cooking dinner together. Your home was with Bradley. 

And you just wanted to be home - you just wanted Bradley. 

You had put on a brave face during Christmas Eve celebrations with your family - at least with your extended family. You had sung carols at church, helped Mary and your dad prep and lay out all the traditional Christmas Eve dishes, organized the Yankee Swap with your brother and Lauren, and had a few too many cocktails with your cousins. But as the last of your grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins had left and your dad had turned on NBC for the end of It’s a Wonderful Life, you had lost it. 

Properly, honestly, well and truly lost it. As in fat tears streaming down your face, snot clogging your nose, remnants of your mascara rimmed around your eyes lost it.

Goddamn Harry Bailey got to come home in time for Christmas! Harry got to toast to his “big brother George: the richest man in town.” Granted, George had basically just tried to kill himself, so the comparison wasn’t perfect - but still! Congressional Medal of Honor winner, Navy pilot Harry Bailey got to be home for Christmas! Why couldn’t Bradley? Fucking Navy. Fucking stupid US Military Industrial Complex. Fucking Lockheed Martin. 

At the sight of your tears, Mary had just opened up her blanket and let you burrow against her side as she rubbed your back like she used to when you were a kid, while your dad had gotten you a cup of Sleepytime Tea. Eventually, once you had calmed down enough and they had said all the right words to soothe your heartache, you had kissed your dad and Mary goodnight  - Mary had hugged you a bit tighter than usual - and they both had told you to give Bradley their best during your Facetime call. 

They liked Bradley - a lot, actually. Of course, they’d given him a tough time when they first talked on the phone all those months ago, but by the time Bradley officially met them at Thanksgiving, it was like he’d known them for years. He just fit. 

He loved to talk to Mary about her history classes at Berkeley and how her students were doing. He had the same sense of humor as your dad and also loved the Patriots despite their recent offensive coordinator troubles. 

He just made you lighter and made things lighter. He fit. 

And you could only hope that one year he’d be able to come up to Berkeley with you to celebrate for the holidays instead of being all alone on an aircraft carrier somewhere in the Pacific. Fucking Navy. Fucking stupid US Military Industrial Complex. Fucking Lockheed Martin.

Shit! The call was finally connecting. You felt tears in your eyes as you finally got to see your beautiful boy again. Though the picture was a little grainy, Bradley was sitting in what looked like one of the quiet rooms in your office, clad in his green flight suit. And he had the most wonderful smile on his face at the sight of you.

“Hey, sweetheart. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, bubs,” you said, hoping your voice didn’t come out as thickly over Facetime as it did in your room.

For what felt like the longest time, but was probably only a few seconds, you stared at each other, just drinking in the other’s face. Bradley already looked tired. This was your first Facetime since he’d left two weeks ago. Normally, you talked over email - which was actually kind of fun. 

Early on in your relationship during a one week special detachment, you had unironically sent him a pretty formal email to check in:

Bradley,

Hope you’re settling in well. Let me know when it would be a good time to connect via FaceTime. I can put some time on my calendar whenever you’re free. I’m heading to an off-site in Raleigh on Thursday, so I’ll be on East Coast time. 

Miss you and stay safe,

x

It had even been from your PwC email address, which he never let you forget. But soon quasi-formal emails became your thing. They probably set off a bunch of red flags to the censor team and you had never sent one from your work email again, but it was fun. You’d even thought of a couple code words and phrases to use.

“You have a good night? How’s your dad and Mary? Tell them thanks again for the package.”

Your parents had had the idea to send everything they normally would have put in Bradley’s Christmas stocking to him on the carrier. He had emailed the three of you a picture of the package, received in perfect condition, on his bunk yesterday. You two had decided that he would open it while you were on your FaceTime call. It wasn’t anything particularly special, except for two small gifts you’d snuck in before bringing it to the post office, but you were excited and could tell Bradley was too.

You held your breath as he parsed through the Dr.Jart sheet masks, Churchill cigars, various Christmas themed candies, new electric toothbrush heads, and scratch cards until he got to the bottom of the stack where your two special presents were hidden.

“Now, what’s this?” He shot you a teasing glance as he opened the envelope. 

You remained tight lipped, just glad it hadn’t been opened by Naval mail security. Bradley slid the object out of the envelope and you could see his eyes widen, even over Facetime, as he realized what it was before he promptly turned it over and glanced around even though there was no one else in the room with him. 

“Shit - how’d you - how’d you take this?” He leaned back in his chair and stared at it, clearly a little in awe.

You felt your cheeks heating up. “Well, I know you have a couple on your phone, but figured an old fashioned one might be nice too - especially if you’re in a tech blackout or whatever it’s called. But do you really like it - seriously, you don’t have -”

“- No, I love it. You’re not getting this back from me.” You giggled. “But you gotta tell me how you managed to get the Polaroid in the shower with you and still get the soapy titties in the picture?”

“Can’t tell you everything, now can I?”

(Caroline had taken them for you. It truly had been a bonding experience and was honestly not half as sexy as Bradley was probably thinking. But you just smiled - more than content to keep that a secret from him.) 

“Well, it is very much appreciated. So, thank you, I love it, seriously.”

You tried to peer into the box from halfway across the world. “There should be one more thing in there from me - and you don’t have to use it, but I know something similar always makes me feel like you’re right next to me…”

Bradley gingerly unwrapped the final tissue paper package only to reveal a travel sized bottle of your perfume. You giggled, watching him spritz his wrist and breathe in the scent.

“Fuck…I’ve missed that.” 

You rested your cheek against your fist and just watched him. For a minute, it felt like he was right in front of you. It made you want to do something terribly cliche like hold your palm up against the screen and imagine you could feel the heat from his hand as he did the same thing back.

But instead Bradley just smiled at you and asked you all about your Christmas Eve activities.

So, you told him about sneaking outside to smoke with your cousins, drinking too much champagne, eating too much food made from your grandma’s recipes from the old country, getting an actually good gift in the Yankee Swap, and crying over Harry Bailey. And he just listened and smiled and asked questions at all the right parts and kept telling you how much he would have loved to do all that beside you next year. 

And then with your remaining five minutes of calltime, Bradley told you all the goings on aboard the ship and how he and Callie and Javy were doing and about the fancy dinner and breakfast planned for tomorrow.

But then the dreaded countdown clock on the side of the screen popped up, signaling you had thirty seconds left. By then, both of you had tears in your eyes as you tried to say goodbye until your next call.

“So, we’ll talk in two weeks, okay? Should be just after New Year’s, but keep emailing me. I love reading them when I get the chance.”

You wiped a stray tear from your eye. “Of course, I’ll give you a full Christmas morning breakdown.”

Bradley chuckled, but seemed to glance at the countdown clock and sobered up. “I love you, I love you so much and I’m so happy I get to come home to you, sweetheart.”

“I love you, too. Merry Christmas, bubs. Please come home.”

-----------

a/n: sorry it took me so fucking long to write again, but a girl can only be so self indulgent! merry christmas, this taglist is shit sorry!

Taglist: @sunderlust @seasonsbloom @ticklish-leafy-plant @lass-that-is-gone @katcoquette @daniellef89x @double-j @bradshawswife @hufflepuffprincesse @cloudycluster @sithbelova @mavencalorers @fav-rooster-fics @thebeautifullydamnedone @unordinare @callsignvalley @pricklepearbloom @browneyedboys @cherrycola27 @whatblogisthis216 @agentofkrypton @lcahwriter @kyliesalvatore @noellreadfiction @coyotesamachado @heartsofminds @jocsrecs @notroosterbradshaw @roosterforme @iblogtopassthetime @karateperson @nessrin @frenchtoastix @piceous21 @princessphilly @spideyngwen @mrsjobarnes @calmpunker @softspiderling @feralforfrank @fivsecondsflat @sexualparkour @greenorangevioletgrass @sexygaypalpatine @moonyscardigans @carousallie @liveholland @supernaturaldawning @melancholyy-hill @currentlybradshaw @summ3rlotus @seesaw-jk @roostereads @milestomaverick @some-lovely-day​ @steadfastconviction​ ​​@sometimesanalice @jupitercomet @rae-gar-targaryen @oncasette @whisperofsong @call-sign-jinx @howdysebby

21/08/2022: NEW COMFORT FIC JUST DROPPED!!!! this was adorable, my heart just grew 3 sizes and i feel all warm and fuzzy!!!!! the song you chose fits their situation so well and it’s beautiful!!!!! and the whole idea is so rooster!!!! it was perfect. here are some of my favorite parts!!!!!

“You watched him sitting at the bar with Maverick, occasionally he gave you a smile if he caught you watching, to which he was met with a cold shoulder. Even looking at him made you want to scream.” i love this!!!!! it doesn’t matter that she’s a little mad with him, bradley continues to be kind 🥺 love the contract between their reactions.

“I have an idea… Your dad and I used to do this with the ladies all the time.” maverick showing rooster how its done!!!! this scene is one of my favorites from the original movie and i loved that you adapted it to your own story <3

“He is in the same room as you but he feels unreachable. Even if you did talk to him, at this point you wouldn’t know what to say. Everytime you look at him the frustration bubbles back up to the surface. Even thinking about the whole situation has again buried down the longing within you.” BUT HE FEELS UNREACHABLE!!!!!! ☹️☹️☹️☹️ he’s right there, but his job is so hard and none of them can’t do anything about it!!!! it’s understandable for her to feel this way!!!!

and then bradley starts singing and phoenix and maverick don’t let get away!!!! so cute!!!!

“The longing within you has now broken through all the anger. So desperately you wanted to let yourself feel it, but if you did and something happened to Bradley on this deployment you’d never recover. So for now it was easier to pretend that you felt nothing at all.” of course it’s easier to shut your feelings out but at what cost!!!??? 🥺

“You scoff at the reminder of Bradley's departure, the thought striking fear inside of you. Unable to leave your position, you decide to turn your back to Bradley, when a hand gently grabs your wrist, catching you off guard, spinning you to be face to chest with Rooster. He towers over you, a smile plastered on his smug little face, proud of his little display with Maverick. You try to pull away but he keeps his grasp held steady. Your tongue pushes on the inside of your cheek, and you click your tongue with another roll of your eyes, letting out a large sigh, as you finally give up trying to pull away.” this moment 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 it’s so very rooster!!!!

“Baby, don't you know I love you so?

Can't you feel it when we touch?..” and this part playing just as he reaches for her to hold her in place!!! i’m in love!!!!

“The warmth of his body feels like home. The smell of him filling your lungs, your heart lurching in your chest. A small squeal slips out, followed by a giggle. A smile grows on Bradley’s face knowing he is wearing you down. You try to squirm free but his hold is firm enough to keep you tightly pressed to him without it hurting, the tension in your body slowly starting to release within his arms.” yeah, she can’t resist him.

"Alright, alright! You win…" 🥺🥺🥺🥺

“You lean into his callous hand, your skin burning under his touch. Your eyes are locked with his, tracing over every feature of his face, trying to soak it in while you can.” babies 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

again: this was beautiful!!!

Save The Last Dance For Me

Bradley Bradshaw x F!Reader

Warnings: None that I can think of. No descriptions of appearance but she/her pronouns are used.

Summary: Bradley attempts to wear you down as you give him the cold shoulder

A/N: This fic is based off the song Save the Last Dance For Me. After watching Top Gun (1986) and longing to have someone serenade me in a bar this self indulgent fic was born. So enjoy!

Masterlist

“I just can’t look at him!” You say before angrily taking your shot on the pool table. The pool stick pounding into the cue ball, clattering the rest all around the table. Bradley had told you yesterday that he was being sent on a two month classified deployment, meaning you would not be allowed to relocate with him for the duration of the mission. 

“You know he didn’t have a choice right? They are called orders for a reason.” Hangman butts in from his seat at the nearby table. Throwing peanuts in his mouth, somehow managing to chew them in a condescending manner. 

“I didn’t ask for your input.” You snap back. He puts his hands up in the air in surrender after receiving a glare from you that could kill. What he was saying wasn’t wrong, but you were too upset to think rationally about it, and needed someone to blame. Unfortunately that fell onto Rooster.

You watched him sitting at the bar with Maverick, occasionally he gave you a smile if he caught you watching, to which he was met with a cold shoulder. Even looking at him made you want to scream.

“She’s not taking it well I see…” Maverick said, taking a sip of his drink. Rooster chuckled before nodding his head in response as he took a drink of his own beer. 

“Not at all… She hasn’t said a word to me since yesterday morning when I told her. I wish I didn’t have to go, but there is nothing I can do. At this point I don’t know how to get her to talk to me again.” 

“I have an idea… Your dad and I used to do this with the ladies all the time.” 

You watched as Maverick and Bradley talked trying to make out what was being said. You could see Maverick gesturing towards you, and conspiring with Penny. The two of them are planning something. You didn’t care to find out what it was though.

You continued your game with Phoenix, joking around with the rest of the boys to distract yourself from the subtle ache in your chest forming the longer you go not talking to Bradley. He is in the same room as you but he feels unreachable. Even if you did talk to him, at this point you wouldn’t know what to say. Everytime you look at him the frustration bubbles back up to the surface. Even thinking about the whole situation has again buried down the longing within you.

Just as you start to line up your final shot, the jukebox cuts out and you hear the tapping on a microphone over the bar speakers. You try and see what is going on but the packed room makes it impossible to see who currently has the microphone. Music slowly starts to flood the room as you hear a familiar voice start to sing alone to the tune.

"Is that Bradshaw?" Phoenix perks up, setting her pool stick down.

"I hope not…" You grumble, already recognizing the voice growing closer. The crowd parts, revealing the answer to your suspicions. Bradley making his way towards you, microphone held up to his lips as he continues to sing. His aviators hang from the neck of his shirt, tugging it down to show off a peak of his chest and collar bones. His hair is a pile of messy curls, lacking the gel he has to use day to day when on duty. 

You can smile every smile for the man

Who held your hand 'neath the pale moonlight…

You try to turn away to walk away from Bradley but you're met with Phoenix grabbing your shoulders to turn you back to face him as he keeps closing the gap between you two. She wears the smile of a traitor as she moves to stand next to you, blocking the path of escape.

But don't forget who's taking you home

And in whose arms you're gonna be

So darlin', save the last dance for me…

You roll your eyes at Bradley's attempt at breaking you, that slowly is working, and attempt yet again to walk away. This time heading the opposite direction of phoenix. Maverick breaks through the crowd, stepping right in front of you stopping you in your pathway.

Oh, I know that the music's fine..

"Seriously! You're in on this too!?" You try to raise your voice over the music, but it's no use. You cross your arms in protest as Maverick slowly backs you up to where you started. You loved this song, and Bradley knew it. He would put it on before he left for every mission as his promise to come home to you. The longing within you has now broken through all the anger. So desperately you wanted to let yourself feel it, but if you did and something happened to Bradley on this deployment you’d never recover. So for now it was easier to pretend that you felt nothing at all.

Laugh and sing but while you're apart

Don't give your heart to anyone…

You scoff at the reminder of Bradley's departure, the thought striking fear inside of you. Unable to leave your position, you decide to turn your back to Bradley, when a hand gently grabs your wrist, catching you off guard, spinning you to be face to chest with Rooster. He towers over you, a smile plastered on his smug little face, proud of his little display with Maverick. You try to pull away but he keeps his grasp held steady. Your tongue pushes on the inside of your cheek, and you click your tongue with another roll of your eyes, letting out a large sigh, as you finally give up trying to pull away.

Baby, don't you know I love you so?

Can't you feel it when we touch?..

He places your hand up on top of his shoulder, then pulls you in by your waist to close the gap on the last syllable of the lyric. The warmth of his body feels like home. The smell of him filling your lungs, your heart lurching in your chest. A small squeal slips out, followed by a giggle. A smile grows on Bradley’s face knowing he is wearing you down. You try to squirm free but his hold is firm enough to keep you tightly pressed to him without it hurting, the tension in your body slowly starting to release within his arms.  

I will never, never let you go

I love you, oh, so much…

You softly hit his chest with your free hand in defeat of escape, your palm lingering flat over his heart after impact. Your other arm moves to curl around the back of his neck, your fingers tangled up in the hair at the nape of his neck, circling along his scalp. Bradley’s hips are pressed against your body and sway the two of you side to side.

His voice has you in a trance. The softness of the melody mixed with the slightest rasp from his vocal cords gives you involuntary butterflies. No matter how mad you were at Bradley, you knew inside it wasn't his fault he was being deployed, you just hated the lack of say you had in the situation. At this point the rest of the squad, even the usually quiet Bob, and most of the bar patrons have all joined in the serenade.

'Cause don't forget who's taking you home

And in whose arms you're gonna be

So darlin', save the last dance for him!

"Alright, alright! You win…"

The bar erupts in cheers. Rooster hands his mic over to Maverick, who gives you a wink, and cups the side of your cheek. You lean into his callous hand, your skin burning under his touch. Your eyes are locked with his, tracing over every feature of his face, trying to soak it in while you can.

"Kiss him already!" Penny yells behind the bar. "Disrespect the Navy or you buy a round!" She threatens.

You let out a laugh before standing on your toes to meet Bradley halfway. His lips meet yours and the bar yet again fills with cheers. The volume of the bar almost drowning out the softest, most innocent moan of contentment Bradley lets slip into your mouth. The taste of beer lingers on his tongue, his kiss becoming deeper before he finally pulls away. 

“I love you, honey.” Rooster whispers in your ear, kissing your cheek. His breath warm on your ear, sending a spark through your body. You interlock your fingers with his as you both make your way back to the tables with the rest of the squad, each of them taking turns poking fun at you for caving in to his cheesy display.  

Flight Crew!

@someplace-darker

@nelleicrain

@murrdxcks

@sobachka-korol

i wish i could feel the same way i felt when i read this for the first time. one of my absolute favorite pieces of writing ever. i think about it all the time.

COMPLETED (2/2)

Part One: “Devils Roll The Dice”

JJ and Y/N‘s friendship has been different since they secretly started hooking up. With new feelings stirred up by the recent change in their relationship, Y/N avoids JJ until the Pogues gather them together for a Fourth of July party that can only end in chaos.

Warnings: Implied sexual content, strong language, alcohol consumption, angst, implied physical abuse, and mild violence.

Word Count: 17k

Part Two: “Angels Roll Their Eyes”

Hurricane Agatha approaches Kildare Island during the aftermath of the eventful Fourth of July party. JJ and Y/N are determined to continue avoiding each other after what happened at the party, but John B, Kiara, and Pope have other plans for them.

Warnings: Smut, strong language, angst, implied physical abuse, depictions of anxiety/panic attacks, and sickeningly sweet fluff.

Word Count: 24k

(gif: @jackpearcsn)

YOU HAD ME AT “BRADLEY GOES AS TED LASSO FOR HIS FIRST HALLOWEEN” HOLY SHIT DID YOU CRAWL INSIDE MY BRAIN????? ABSOLUTELY SHUT UP!!!!!! THE MUSTACHE!!!!!!! jordannnnnnnnnnnnnnnn i’ll never be over this. amazing, perfect, incredible, showstopping, i can keep going…

bradley being a boy’s dad!!!!!!! and a coach!!!!!!!!!!!! stop it!!!!!!!!!!!! AND JEALOUS!!!!!!!! and of course he gets handsy 😭😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

bradley and smart aleck are my beloveds and i got a littleeeeee teeeenyyyy bit emotional about knowing they’re gonna have kids together one day!!! also: the mav mention <3

rooster jealousy fic 🥵🥵🥵

I want all of them

this probably isn’t what you imagined BUT it takes place in an eventual universe where bradley and smart aleck have kids. and yes in my dreams bradley goes as ted lasso for his first halloween with smart aleck and it kinda evolves into peewee soccer coach bradley bradshaw when they have kids since his girl digs it so much (it’s the fucking mustache i stg) - enjoy???

ask prompt

"Did you see that? You saw that, right?"

Bradley sputtered, frantically pointing across the soccer field to where you were chatting with Max's dad, Zach.

Fucking Zach. Bradley hated Zach. And his stupid crisp button downs and his smarmy face and his shiny loafers and his ridiculous fucking Shelby Cobra that was in no way safe for a child to ride in, unlike Bradley's family-friendly Land Rover. Plus, his son, Max, was a biter.

But more importantly, Bradley hated the way Zach got so close to you to talk about emerging markets or stock options or some shit like that. Fucking prick.

Beside him, Gil frowned. "See what? Mommy?"

"Yes, mommy," he sassed the five year old, not taking his eyes off you from behind his aviators. Wait, was he - no, he did not just put his hand on -

"- TWEEEEEEEEEET," Bradley blew the whistle hanging around his neck, causing his small battalion of five year olds to immediately freeze where they were aimlessly running on the field. If it also caused Zach to retreat his hand from where it was about to touch your arm then that was just a happy coincidence.

"Alright," Coach Bradshaw clapped his hands together a couple times, rounding up the troops, "good job today everyone - especially you, Maddie S, that flower crown looks dynamite on you, wanna see that energy on Saturday for our game against the Yellow Frogs, alright?"

Maddie S preened under the praise, while the rest of the kids nodded seriously. "We gotta keep that defense tight - that means no getting distracted by Jacob R, okay Emily? Yeah, heard about you at nap time the other day, little grabby for kindergarten, I think? That being said, I think Mrs. Armstrong brought orange slices and apple juice if you all want to head over for your snack - "

They dispersed without another word, except Gil, who was drawing what Bradley thought was a - dinosaur? a dog? he didn't really know - on his play whiteboard. He hazarded a glance across the field to see that you still were talking to Zach. God, your ass looked fucking perfect in your work skirt. How the hell you weren't sinking into the grass with those heels of yours?

"Hey, buddy?" Gil looked up. "Why don't we pack up all this stuff and go get mommy? Think she's talking to Max's dad..."

Gil made a face. “I don’t like Max -”

“- Well, I don’t like his dad,” Bradley muttered, hoping Gil didn’t hear, but the little boy giggled. 

The two Bradshaw men made quick work of picking up all the cones and practice pinnies and tossing them into a mesh bag along with the five or so soccer balls. Gil tried to carry the bag, but ended up dragging it, so Bradley picked it and Gil up and made his way across the field to you. The kid was too old to be picked up, but it made getting over to you quicker - Gil had short legs.

While Bradley and Gil had been cleaning up, Emily K’s dad, Adam, had joined Zach’s little tete-a-tete with you. Of course, none of them had their kids with them. Fucking typical. Emily was probably aimlessly walking around with orange juice dripping on her cleats. Bradley scowled as he approached the group, while Zach tossed him a quick wave. 

“Hey, Brad.” Bradley fucking hated being called Brad. 

“Hmmm, hi.”

You turned around at the sound of his voice and a huge smile lit up your face once you saw Bradley and Gil. 

“Mommy!" Gil squirmed in Bradley’s arms until he put him down, wanting to be let go.

“Hey, little man!” You ran your hands through Gil’s hair as he latched onto your legs in a hug. Suddenly, Bradley was jealous of his five year old and he gave you a longer than probably appropriate for six o’clock on a Tuesday kiss.

“Did you see me? I scored a goal!” Gil exclaimed, dancing on the spot.

You shot a quick glance over towards Bradley to double check. He nodded slightly, knowing you hadn’t seen that part of practice - and not because Zach and Adam had been monopolizing your time.

“Of course, I did! Amazing, as always, did daddy teach you that?” Gil giggled and then burrowed his face in the hem of your skirt when he realized there were two other men standing there.

Bradley took a step back towards you, resting his hand on the small of your back. You leaned into him and gave him a quick smile. “Zach was just talking about setting up a playdate with Gil next week - and then Adam thought maybe Emily could come over, too?”

Absolutely fucking not. The ink on Zach’s divorce papers was barely dry and Adam was - well, Adam wasn’t too bad and he probably had just wanted to see if Emily could have a playdate with Gil. They were in the same class, after all. And she wasn’t a biter. Even if she was a little handsy.

Bradley clicked his tongue. “You know, I think G-man’s a little booked up next week? We got a birthday party and then we’re gonna see Papa at the base.”

Gil looked up at him and his entire face lit up even though they were doing nothing of the sort - well, at least not yet. Clearly, when Bradley called Mav later, he would understand and extend the invite.

“Ahhh bummer. We were just exchanging numbers,” Zach nodded towards you, “so, maybe we can do something the week after?”

“Yeah, of course,” you said politely, “maybe next - ahh - week?”

Zach and Adam frowned at your sudden exclamation, but what they hadn’t seen was Bradley slide his hand underneath the waistband of your skirt and lace panties and dig his fingers into the top of your ass. Or the way he started drawing little circles with the pads of his fingers and dragged his nail down your spine. You swallowed.

He could see the goosebumps rising on your arms. Thankfully, your backs were both to the field and not the mass of parents and five year olds eating oranges.

“We uhh, we can work out the details on - Satur-day?” you stuttered out as Bradley dug his fingers into a rather sensitive knot on your back. 

“Sure, that’s fine...guess we’ll see you two around then?”

Bradley smiled at the two men for the first time since the conversation had started, but his good mood was more attributed to your slightly heaving chest, which he had perfect view of thanks to his height advantage. “Have a good night.”

With a brief glance back at the three of you, the two men set off to find their children - which they should have been keeping an eye on in the first place. Bradley retracted his hand.

You bit your lip and glanced up at him. “So, Coach Bradshaw, you gonna make me stay after practice for some one-on-one training? Promise I’ll try harder..."

“Nah, I got you booked for a private session later.” He leaned forward and kissed you, wrapping his arms around your waist, while you clasped yours around his neck. God, you smelled so pretty - he’d take you on the goddamn soccer field right now if there weren’t about twenty parents and five year olds around them.

Bradley only came back to himself and pulled away when he felt a slight tug on his joggers. He looked down at Gil. 

“Daddy? Can we get ice cream since I scored a goal? Please?”

A wicked smile crept across your face. “Yeah, daddy, can we get ice cream?”

Bradley threw back his head and groaned. God, you were fucking killing him tonight. He shot Gil an amused look. “If you can carry this bag,” he nodded towards the mesh bag at his feet, “all the way to the car, then we can get ice cream.”

Gil considered this and then grabbed the bag with his little hands. “Okay, I can do it! I can do it!”

The two of you laughed watching him slowly drag the bag across the grass and towards the parking lot. Bradley threw his arm around your shoulders pulling you close. 

“So, Zach’s dad, huh?”

“Hmmm.”

“What do you mean hmmmm! I could see him making eyes at you from all the way across the field -”

“- He was not!” you protested.

Bradley snorted. “And you just happened to wear that tight little skirt to come to practice, huh?”

“Noticed that, did you - Gil, wait until your father and I catch up before going into the parking lot!” You glanced back up at Bradley. “I like when you get jealous, bubs, it’s cute -”

“- Cute!” He scoffed. “Hardly -”

“- Well, I suppose that’s not true, you were practically groping my ass on the field - isn’t that a Title IX violation or something?”

Bradley groaned. “Sweetheart, at least wait till we get home to start the dirty talk.”

“I make no promises - coach.” You winked and then walked ahead to meet Gil, shaking your hips with every step. “I’ll take Gil to Dairy Queen and we can meet you at home?”

Bradley stopped by his car. “You want ice cream, too?”

You turned around and scrunched your nose. “Not really, I actually have other plans in mind for dessert tonight...” Bradley groaned. “See you at home, daddy.”

thanks for reading x

22/04/23: GOD, THIS STORY IS JUST SO WONDERFUL!!! i binged through the whole thing this morning and my brain can’t focus on anything else. i have so favorite many parts i wanna properly highlight later but “You stay on my left, and I’ll stay on your right.” REALLY GOT ME!!!

the dynamic between joel and reader is too good to be true, you’re building something wonderful here. i love their interactions so much and the interactions they have with the other characters, like ellie and tommy <3

“Fix her leaky tap my ass,” Tommy muttered, earning him a grunt from Joel.”

and i also love that you made her stand her ground!!! NO DAMSELS IN DISTRESS HERE!!! although there will be a lot of distress to come apparently jefhhshddh

everyone is so in character it’s truly insane like THIS IS ALL CANON TO ME NOW IDC, your attention to detail and their mannerisms and the way the TALK TO EACH OTHER just makes sense and it clicks and it’s perfect.

i send you an anon talking about how much i’m loving the story but it wasn’t enough i need to run my mouth a bit more!!!

reader’s backstory and what we know about her so far, her relationship with cal and everything just brings so much more depth to her and how she is able to connect with joel and WHY THE FIT!!! it’s so well written (as is everything you’re writing) and i think it just makes her such a memorable character.

“Walk of shame,” Cal crooned lovingly from the kitchen table when you returned home. You flicked him off with a laugh, hanging up your coat. “Seriously, do you even live here anymore?” THIS BROUGHT SUCH A STUPID SMILE TO ME LIFE!!!

i’m also fucking loving the SUBPLOT THAT’S HAPPENING I SEE YOU!!! the moment you said the new guy was from “CAN-” i already started to 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀 and yeah. i don’t trust him. people are going missing. i love the tension it’s bringing to the story and to the scenery that is jackson, because in most fics i’ve been reading it’s almost like a safe haven (which i get and it fits if a story is like that) but i just love your twist on it!!! and i’m so excited to see where it leads everything.

in summary: this is definitely one of the best joel fics i’ve ever read (and just one of the best fics in general) and i’m be so so so excited for the next chapters!!!

under the night | part four

summary: joel can't always be in control

pairing: joel miller x f!reader, set in jackson after the end of tlou part I

warnings/tags: [18+ only, minors dni] language, sex, angst, jealousy, immature/possessive!joel, canon typical violence [infected feature], violence, injury/blood, vomit, hurt/comfort, and so on and so forth

word count: 9k

a/n: teeing things up for the bigger story arc here, and i'd like to clarify this is not a damsel in distress story lol you'll see

part three

The patrolmen in Jackson were dedicated. Every morning, on a rotational basis, a group of them ventured out past the gates of the settlement and explored set routes. They took down infected; they searched for essential items like soaps and medicines; but most all, they kept the town safe. Admittedly, when you first heard them called patrolmen you’d rolled your eyes, knowing damn well there were multiple women doing the job. But Tommy had just shrugged amiably, assuring you that those women weren’t bothered with the title.

That morning in particular, Joel and Tommy were scheduled to do a routine sweep of what they called the “south patrol”. Joel had never complained about how quickly he fell into the job upon his arrival in Jackson. It made sense to Tommy and Maria that he would join the team, considering the vast experience and knowledge he’d acquired in his year roaming cross country with Ellie. Never once had he begrudged his brother for being given a job and a place to live, and a warm home to sleep in.

Until, that is, he had to leave you in his bed for the sake of a fucking patrol.

“Fuck Tommy,” Joel grumbled into your neck. You laughed sleepily, pushing him off you.

“Get out of here, Joel,” you mumbled unconvincingly, rolling over to shove your head back into the pillows. It was earlier than you would’ve chosen to wake up, but you knew there was no hope of drifting back to sleep with the way the sun shone through his large bedroom window.  With a huff, he was getting out of bed, and you listened drowsily to the sound of the shower running, and then to the rustling of him pulling his clothes on.

When a silence settled over the room, you risked opening your eyes a crack, only to see Joel watching you from the doorway.  He stared forlornly, his eyes raking over your naked torso before you yanked the blanket back up to cover yourself.

“You’re makin’ this real hard for me you know,” he said, his forearm propped up against the doorframe. 

You cracked a smile, and let your eyes shut slowly, listening to the sounds of his boots padding softly down the stairs.

A week had passed since your first night together, and it was true that you and Joel struggled to spend more than one consecutive night apart. Laying in his bed, surrounded by the smell of him, you remembered the day after like you were experiencing the moment all over again.

The knock at your front door had come after 10pm, and you’d startled at the sound, wondering who would be bothering you so late. Cal had been out at Louisa’s, so you’d tentatively walked over to the door, opening it just a crack to glance out, and then tugging it open swiftly upon seeing Joel standing on your doorstep. 

“Hey there,” he’d offered a tense smile, eyes flicking down to your feet and then back up to hold your gaze.

You gripped Joel’s pillows and remembered the way he’d stepped inside your home, asking if you were alone.

“I can’t stop thinking about it. About the way you sounded… the way you felt. Can’t get you out of my damn head.”

You were drunk on each other, on the intimacy. Both enveloped in these new and devastatingly consuming feelings for one another that you were finally able to express. In the entire week, you’d only spent one night away from one another, because you had stood your ground and admitted you needed to spend some time with Cal.

From Joel’s bed, you listened to the sounds of Ellie messing around downstairs in the kitchen, no doubt trying to make herself something edible for breakfast. After the teenager had caught you leaving the house, you had been shy around her. You didn’t want your relationship to change because things with Joel had. Although Ellie had seemed enthused by the progression, you feared the dynamic would shift between you, so you tried to remain stealthy with your comings and goings from their home.

When you were sure the younger girl had left the house, you took your time with showering, and dressing for the day.

“Walk of shame,” Cal crooned lovingly from the kitchen table when you returned home. You flicked him off with a laugh, hanging up your coat. “Seriously, do you even live here anymore?”

“Fuck off, man,” you rolled your eyes, settling down in the chair opposite him. You accepted a mug of coffee with a grateful nod, and brought the liquid gold to your lips.

He chuckled quietly, pushing his bowl of oats towards you as a peace offering. You stole his spoon and cleared the rest of the food in minutes.

“How are you though?” he asked after a while, his eyes soft and genuine. You admired him, and the way his blonde hair was getting longer, flopping down over his eyes.

“I’m good, Cal,” you assured.

“You look happy,” he squinted at you, the teasing lilt returning to his voice. “You’ve got the glow of someone who’s finally made some fucking friends.”

“Took a leaf out of your book,” you winked.

Your heart felt full. For so many years, you and Cal had been one another’s salvation. You’d relied on each other for survival, for companionship, but amongst it all, there had been stretches of time so dire that you didn’t laugh for weeks at a time. To be sat with him, in your home, somewhere safe like Jackson, and laughing together… even after so many months there, it still struck you sometimes how lucky you were.

It was a few hours later, when you ventured toward the stables to check in on Dot, that you bumped into Tommy and Joel returning from patrol.

The brothers were putting away their saddles when you pushed the gate open.

Tommy greeted you warmly, although his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Your gaze drifted slowly from him to his older brother, trying to gage the tense atmosphere.

“Hey guys,” you wrapped your arms around yourself, shivering from the bitter weather. Joel leaned against the stable wall, fiddling with the bit in his hands, his eyes hard on Tommy. “Who died?” 

Joel’s eyes snapped to you, his expression grim.

“Woah,” you said lowly. “What the fuck, did someone actually die?”

“We found a body out there,” Tommy admitted quietly, stealing a glance over his shoulder to check if anyone else was listening.

“Where?”

His face seemed hesitant, as if he were unsure of sharing much information with you. He rubbed the back of his neck in the same way Joel did when he was trying to find the right words. “A few miles away. A woman. No one from here; we didn’t recognise her.”

“Bitten?” you asked quietly, your breaths short. The idea of anyone being outside those gates made your chest hurt suddenly, as the memories of life out there raced through your brain.

“No,” Joel answered gruffly, and you looked at him. “It must’ve been raiders, but the snowfall last night means there wasn’t much for us to do by means of tracking them.”

“We’re going out again tomorrow,” Tommy butt in firmly, staring at his older brother. “I want this shit figured out.”

You didn’t know what made you say it, but the words tumbled from your mouth. All fear forgotten, you blurted, “Let me come with you.”

“What?” Joel huffed sharply, glaring at you. “Fat chance.”

You scowled in his direction, looking at Tommy. “I lived out in the open for years, I can help you with tracking, even through the snow.”

Joel ground out your name, his eyes flashing with a warning that you couldn’t quite decipher.

“She has a point Joel,” Tommy held his hand up towards his brother, stopping the interruption he knew was coming. “Plus, we could use the extra pair of hands. Someone to watch our six.”

You would have never admitted it, but Tommy was right. The concern you felt for Joel all of a sudden was an unwelcome, painful feeling. After the past week, the idea of him going out past the gates made your throat tighten. You wanted to be out there with them, watching their six – keeping him safe.

“I don’t like it,” is all Joel said, eyes staring at the ground. “We can take Jesse.”

He’d rather have a 19-year-old kid on patrol with them, than you?

“Fuck, Jesse. I’ll be here tomorrow morning at 7,” you told Tommy, who nodded once.

“We should get going,” Joel pushed off the wall, and you looked to him in confusion. “I promised you I’d fix that leaky tap in your kitchen.” You didn’t remember ever having a conversation about your kitchen tap, but you nodded slowly anyways, sparing a glance in Dot’s direction before surmising that you’d check in on the horse properly in a few days.

“Fix her leaky tap my ass,” Tommy muttered, earning him a grunt from Joel. He put his hand on the small of your back and encouraged you out of the stables, leaving Tommy laughing as he finished packing up their equipment. 

Walking down the street in the direction of your house, you braced yourself for Joel’s frustration. You could tell he was tense in the stables, and unhappy with your decision. But you couldn’t help the way anxiety ticked away in your chest. Nothing good comes from wanting. Yet there you were, with Joel so close finally, and a reminder had been served to you that he could be taken away so fucking easily. Letting people in meant opening yourself up to pain, and you were suddenly terrified by how fast things were moving between you two; how much he meant to you after a single week of being anything more than friends.

“Joel,” you started quietly.

“We’ll talk about it later,” he said quickly, squeezing your shoulder before lowering his hand once again to rest on your lower back. You nodded slowly, glancing around the street and noticing Rosie Paulson, a girl around Ellie’s age, staring at the pair of you from her front porch. Instinctively, you brushed off Joel’s hand, putting a wider berth between you.  

“That Paulson girl is staring at us like we’re naked,” you explained under your breath, walking faster.

“Nosy fucking kids,” Joel grunted in response, not even glancing in the girl’s direction.

You remembered the impression you’d gotten of Joel when you first arrived in Jackson; that cold, private person who kept to himself. The other people in the town saw the same in him, and you knew it would’ve been cause for curiosity; for them to suddenly spot him walking around town with you by his side.

Your house came into view, and you started to chuckle. “So, what’s all this leaky tap business, Miller?”

He gave a short laugh and looked at you from the corner of his eye. “Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“Needed an excuse to get you alone.”

You barked out a laugh and led him quickly up the stairs to the front door, unlocking it hastily. Before you were fully inside, his hands were on you, prying the zip of your jacket down.  He kicked the door shut behind him with a slam, and pushed you up against it, his fingers pressing against the skin underneath your shirt. All your anxieties blew away in the wind when you felt his hands on your body.

“Fuck,” you gasped in shock. “Your hands are fucking freezing.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled into your mouth, pressing his lips to your urgently. “Help me warm ‘em up.” 

Putting your hands on his chest, you pushed him off you. “C’mon,” you encouraged, leading him to your bedroom. It was a painful dichotomy; fearing getting so close to him, so quickly, and yet not being able to keep your damn hands off him. When you clicked the bedroom door closed, you turned to find him standing at the edge of your bed, watching you with dark eyes.

“I really didn’t want to leave this morning,” he spoke lowly. “Wanted to stay in those sheets all wrapped up in you.” Through the admission he seemed somewhat shy, a flush still rising in his cheeks when he bared his feelings to you so honestly. Though you’d spent your nights together, no conversation had been had about what exactly you were doing. You’d admitted you liked being near each other, but not much else. And you decided you were okay with not knowing; if it meant you got to have Joel in any capacity.

You hummed, stepping forward to place your hands on his cheeks, and running your fingers through the coarse bristles of his beard. He leaned in and kissed you gently, his tongue swiping along your bottom lip before pressing eagerly into your mouth. You sighed softly, breathing in the scent of him. Your heart still raced like it was the first time.

You stripped each other’s clothes off hastily, until you were clad in nothing but your underwear, and cold fingers didn’t matter anymore because your skin had grown hot with desire. 

You pushed gently on his chest and when the back of his calves hit the bed, he fell onto it with a huff of surprise. He shuffled backward until his head hit the pillows, and you crawled up to straddle him. Your fingertips trailed lightly over his skin and through the soft smattering of hair on his chest.  

His eyes flashed dark with desire, and he grit his teeth. You felt powerful astride him, with your hands pressing down on his shoulders to keep him pinned to your bed.

“This how you want it?” he rasped.

“What can I say,” you smirked. “Save a horse, ride a cowboy.”

He let out a sharp laugh, but it was cut off by a grunt when you ground down against him. You sighed at the feeling of him pulsing against your core, only two thin pieces of fabric separating you now. His eyes closed involuntarily, face relaxing at the feeling of you rubbing against him. But then they snapped open, trained on you again. You remembered what he’d said during your first time together. I don’t want to miss a single thing.

One of his hands left your waist and drifted between your thighs. He pulled your underwear to the side, and you exhaled heavily as one of his thick fingers dipped between your folds.

“Christ,” he exhaled. “You’re wet already, baby.”

“Can’t help it,” you whimpered, the pet name causing a flood of heat to rip through you. Your stomach tensed as he swirled his fingertip over your entrance, and spread the wetness upward, finally making contact with your pulsing clit.  He drew light circles around it at first, enjoying the way you held your breath at the feeling, and then would sharply gasp for air as he changed his rhythm.

“That feel good?” he asked, watching your expressions.

“So good,” you breathed, eyebrows pulled together tightly as you grinded against his hand.

He slipped a finger inside you, sighing huskily at the feeling of your walls tightening around him. You loved the sounds he made when his hands were on you; as if he would die happy just from having had the chance to touch you. After a moment, he pushed a second digit inside, curling them against your walls and scissoring them, stretching you out for him.

You kissed him messily, teeth nipping at his bottom lip, before running your lips down his jugular. You tried to stop yourself from leaving marks in your wake, although you knew Joel wouldn’t be bothered.

“Fuck Joel,” you huffed, lips pausing on his skin when his fingers hit a particularly sensitive spot inside you. “Stop.”

His hand stilled instantly, eyes searching your face in confusion.

“I need to fuck you,” you said firmly, pushing his hand away from your body and leaning back to tug your panties down your legs. Joel followed suit, desperately yanking his briefs down his legs before grabbing your hips to pull you back over him. Unintentionally, when you rested above him, the head of his cock nudged against your folds, and he moaned deeply.

“God,” you sighed, reaching down to grip him in your hand. You pushed his head through your folds, letting your slick coat his already weeping tip.

He groaned your name, fingertips digging into your hipbones. “Love how wet you get for me.”

You whined and couldn’t help but press your entrance down onto his head, longing to feel him inside of you. But common sense flared in the back of your mind, and you reached over desperately to grab a condom from the bedside table. Shuffling down to sit on his thighs, you ripped open the foil with your teeth, enjoying the way he stroked his cock and watched you with hooded eyes.

You knocked his hand away to roll the latex down his length, giving him a firm tug once it was on. Not wasting a second, he lined himself up to your entrance, and you sunk down onto his length.

You gasped, eyes shutting instinctively. For all the nights you’d spent together that week, it was the first time you’d ridden him. The position helped him hit a spot so deep inside that it had you seeing stars behind your eyelids.

“God damn it,” Joel spat, eyes rolling back in his head. One of his hands gripped the blanket, and the other held your waist in a vice grip.

“Shit Joel,” you whimpered. “You’re so deep like this, f-fuck.” Your breathless tone drove him crazy, and he begged you to move.

“You can take it, darlin’,” he encouraged. “Show me how well you can take me.”

You clenched around him, your slick dripping down and coating both of your thighs. Slowly, you lifted up before dropping back down, crying out as he instantly hit that spot inside of you again. Hungry for more, you got to work; lifting up and grinding down in a beautiful rhythm that had him making filthy sounds beneath you, reaching up to pinch and tug on your nipples. 

“Look so fucking good like this,” he grunted, his eyes flicking between your face and the way your tits bounced with every movement.

You grabbed his hands and shoved them into the pillows beside his head, leaning over him so he could suck one of your nipples into his mouth. He moaned into your skin, nipping gently at the painfully tight buds. With your torso bent forward, your clit brushed deliciously against the coarse hair at his base, and you couldn’t help but just grind yourself against him for a moment, letting out soft whines.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned into your chest. “Fuck yourself against me.”

With the sensation of him deep inside you, and the friction on your clit, an orgasm hit you out of nowhere. You cried out in shock, gripping his shoulders as your body bowed into his chest.

“Fuck,” he yelled into your skin, his hands wrapping around your back to hold you to him. You’d come to learn that your orgasm was often what pushed him over the edge, and could tell he was holding back, waiting.

Your body was shaking as the pleasure rolled through you, and Joel’s mouth sponging kisses across your chest did nothing to lessen the intensity of the moment. As your body relaxed, he began nudging his hips upwards, making you whimper.

“Not done with you yet, baby,” Joel rasped, his fingers dragging down your back as he fucked up into you. He was so thick, so heavy, inside you, and even in the minutes after an orgasm, you had to steel yourself in preparation for another. With all your strength, your pushed herself back into a seated position.

“You’re too far away,” he grunted, attempting to push himself up so you were chest to chest.

“Uh uh,” you tutted breathlessly. Your hands were on his chest, holding him against the bed. “Thought you didn’t wanna miss a thing, Miller? Watch me.”

His eyes flicked down from your face to your chest, your stomach, all the way down to where you were connected. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his neck was flushed red. You could only imagine that you looked the same way, as your chest heaved with exhausted breaths.

“So beautiful,” he breathed out, and your cheeks burned. The moment was almost too intense. Post orgasm, with him deep inside of you, saying words you struggled to accept about yourself.

“Fuck me,” you begged him, and he obliged.  

His grip on your waist was bruising, using his strength to hold you still while he thrust up into you. You were sure there would be fingerprint shaped marks on you the next day, and the thought made you shiver.

“Y’feel so,” he grunted. “So fuckin’ good for me.”

You leaned back and rested your hands on his thighs for leverage, moaning lowly at the new, tighter angle.

“Oh,” you sighed. “Oh, you’re gonna make me cum again, Joel.”

He cursed loudly, his rhythm breaking for a second before starting up again at a faster rate. “C’mon,” he encouraged, dark eyes bearing into yours. Holding his gaze, a shiver ran down your spine as you noted a hint of frustration. Joel was being rough, pounding into you with no mercy, desperate for you to cum again. It seemed the tension from the conversation in the barn hadn’t disappeared entirely.

Choked sobs fell from your mouth involuntarily as he bounced you on top of him. His teeth were gritted as he snarled, “Want to feel you cum all over my cock. I know you can.”

His words were enough to send you over the edge a second time, and a guttural cry tore out of your throat as you toppled into your orgasm. Joel followed close behind, his hips snapping messily into yours over and over again, while he let out rough curses and mumbles of your name.

Heavy breaths filled the air around you as you collapsed onto his chest. You left feather soft kisses along his collarbones, your eyes closed in exhaustion. He gripped your waist and spun you slowly so your back hit the pillows, before pulling himself out of you.

“I meant it,” he said a short while later. You’d cleaned up and were laying in bed, hands stroking each other’s skin absentmindedly. You looked at him in confusion. He reached out and traced a finger along the scar on your cheek. “You’re so beautiful.”

You cringed quickly, tucking your face into the pillow.

“Don’t do that,” he pleaded in a whisper. “Don’t hide from me.”

“It’s hard,” you muttered, still not meeting his eye-line. “This all feels very… intense.”

He nodded slowly, eyes watching you warily. “Is that… bad?”

“It’s not bad,” you rushed out. “It’s just different. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a… a you.”

“Long time for me too,” he said. You stared at each other for a moment, not saying anything. Finally, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

“I need to eat something,” you mumbled into his mouth, eager to change the subject. “Or I’m gonna pass out.”

“Can’t have that. Need you to keep your energy up,” he replied, his palm gripping your ass quickly. “Can’t have you tirin’ out on me.”

You scoffed, jumping off the bed to tug on a pair of underwear and a random singlet.

As you walked down the hallway into the kitchen, he called out, “I’m hungry too!” You replied with a laugh, and a “yeah yeah!”

You rifled through the kitchen cabinets for a few minutes and contemplated heating up a can of soup, until your eyes landed on the bag of oranges you’d picked up a few days beforehand.

You grabbed one with an eager smile, and began pealing the rind over the sink, not noticing the front door opening in your periphery.

“Jesus, aren’t you cold, freak?”

“Shit!” you jumped, almost dropping the fruit. “You scared me.”  

Cal was leaning against the kitchen doorway, staring at you in incredulity.

“Not my fault you’re wandering around in your underwear with your head up in the clouds,” he was laughing.

“Shh, shh,” you hushed him with a snort. “Joel’s here.”

“Oh shit,” Cal said, eyes wide with mischief. “Grumpy old Joel Miller in our house?”

“Give it a rest,” you rolled your eyes, starting up on your peeling again. “How was your day?”

“It was good,” he trailed off, eyes flicking down the hall over your shoulder. You could hear Joel’s footsteps approaching the kitchen, but held focus on the orange, tearing white strands off the juicy flesh. Your cheeks flushed at what the two of you must’ve looked like; half dressed, with messy hair and tired eyes.

“Hey Joel,” Cal nodded politely, raising his hand in a wave.  

Joel settled directly behind you, and your eyes went wide when you felt his bare chest press against your back, and his hand come down to land on your stomach. His long fingers splayed against you, pinkie resting dangerously close to the band of your underwear.

“Howdy,” he said quietly. His thumb toyed with the hem of your singlet, brushing underneath the fabric along your bare skin. You turned your head slightly to see Joel out of the corner of your eye, but he was staring directly at Cal. Your heart started to beat a little faster at the sudden awkward tension in the air. What was he doing?

Joel’s face was devoid of emotion, even the skin between his eyebrows was uncharacteristically smooth. But everything his face hid, his body language screamed. His knee brushed against the back of your leg, and where the contact would normally have made you shiver, you found herself stunned into silence by what you realised was a clear display of possessiveness. Joel was marking his territory in front of Cal, and you wanted no fucking part in it.

“How are you?” Cal asked warily, clearly confused by the dynamic between the two of you.

“I’m grand,” Joel said with a tone of finality, and no indication of wanting to continue the conversation. Your brain flashed back to the first time you’d met him, and what you’d thought; rude motherfucker. The adoration you’d felt for the man only minutes before was long gone, replaced with a burning frustration at his behaviour.

The silence was agonising, but you didn’t know how to break it. Cal fidgeted, eyes glancing at Joel’s hand before looking to the floor uneasily. Your stomach twisted as Joel leaned down a pressed a chaste kiss to the side of your neck. Cal cleared his throat into his elbow and finally muttered something about heading over to Louisa’s. Willing yourself to move, you gripped Joel’s hand and pried it off you. You turned and stalked back towards the bedroom; the orange forgotten on the counter.

When he entered the room behind you, you spun around angrily. “What the hell was that?”

“What?” he asked innocently, hands raised in the air.

“You practically propped your leg up and pissed on me back there,” you grunted. “Like a dog marking your fucking territory.”

He said your name softly, arms lowering.

“Don’t say my name like that,” you said. “What the hell was that?”

“What, I can’t touch you?” he asked defensively.

“Did you see how uncomfortable he was? Your hand was practically up my shirt!”

“Well good,” he growled, and you paused, mouth falling open. “Maybe I wanted to set the record straight.”

“Set the record…” you stared at him wide eyed. “What the fuck are you talking about, Joel?”

His face relaxed suddenly as he realised how appalled you were by him, and he made a quick step toward you. “Okay, look,” he surrendered, hands reaching out to you. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“Why did you do that?” you pushed, stepping back.

He breathed your name again, his eyes darting to stare at the wall. He gripped his hands together in front of him, cracking his fingers roughly. “Look, I-I can’t help but think about you and him living in this house together sometimes… knowing what I kno-“

“Jesus Christ,” you interrupted, pulling a pair of trousers from the chest of drawers, and beginning to tug them up your legs.  

“Now listen,” he said from behind you. “I’m sorry, but-“

“But what, Joel?” you turned back, zipping your pants. “I was honest with you, before any of this started between us. I told you more about my history, including what happened with Cal, than I have with another person, ever. I trusted you, thought you’d take it at face value. But then here you are, on a weird possessive kick, trying to lay some sort of claim on me in front of him? Cal is like my fucking brother, I told you that.”

“I do trust you, but I doubt it’s the fuckin’ same for him,” he ground out, his face reddening. This wasn’t the soft spoken, kind man you had gotten so close with. He was frustrated and angry, and you didn’t like this side to him. “What am I supposed to think? How do I know that he’s not just holdin’ out hope, waitin’ for you to change your mind?”

It was as though all the tension from the past few hours bubbled up inside of you. The stern words in the barn, Joel thinking he could make decisions for you, stop you from coming on patrol. And now this. If anybody else in Jackson dared to do these things, try to tell you what to do, you’d have their fucking tongue for it.

“Because you’re wrong!” you shouted, unable to help yourself. Your chest was heaving with sharp breaths; the situation astounded you. Is he fucking serious? “And you know what Joel, Cal will always be in my life. He’s been with me for a long time before you, and he’ll be with me for a long time after you. And if you can’t fucking handle that, then I don’t know what to tell you.”

Your mouth had moved faster than your brain, and you regret the phrasing as soon as it came out. But it was too late to take it back, so you steeled your shoulders and held your ground. Joel’s face fell quickly, his mouth turning down in dismay.

After you, you’d said. After you.

His hurt expression made your chest ache, but he cleared his throat and covered it up in a second.

“Well then,” he nodded, bending down to yank his clothes off the floor. He dressed in silence, not looking at you again, before turning and walking out of the room. You watched him leave with wide eyes, tears threatening your water line. Left standing alone in the house, you could only wonder what the fuck had just happened. Maybe you’d been right; wanting never brings anything good.

The nightmares returned that night. After a long week of peaceful deep sleep, the fear was paralysing, and somehow, you’d forgotten just how awful it felt. You slept fitfully, drifting in and out with no reprieve from your own mind.

By the time 6am rolled around, you tore out of bed to start the day. Washing your face in the bathroom, you ran your finger along the scar on your cheekbone, glaring at your reflection. No matter what you did, it would serve as a reminder of how weak you’d been made to feel, all those years ago. You weren’t supposed to be beautiful; you were supposed to be strong.  

It was bitterly cold outside. As you trudged towards the stables to meet Joel and Tommy the wind whipped painfully against your skin. Shoving your hands deep in your pockets, you tried to ignore the feelings of regret you had over pushing so hard to come along on the patrol. The argument with Joel rung in your head on a constant loop, and you cringed to think of how tense things were about to be.

His pained expression flashed through your mind, but you willed it away as quickly as it came. You were angry with him. If he’d just told you how he felt, maybe you would have understood, but instead he acted like a child. You rolled your eyes thinking about it. Maybe it was for the best this had happened early on in your... situation with him.

“Oh, hey!” a voice called suddenly, and your head whipped around to spot the newbie jogging in your direction.

“Lincoln,” you nodded at him. “How’re you settling in?”

“Settling in well,” he grinned, his cheeks rosy from the cold. “Surprised to spot anyone else out and about so early.” You gave him a wry smile, doing your best to be polite. It was too early for small talk, and you’d heard from the girls at the stables just how chatty he could be.

“Headed out on patrol,” you said shortly, sighing quietly when he changed his course of direction and fell into step beside you.

“Oh, wow!” he said, too loud for your tired brain. “I thought I’d heard you worked at the stables?”

You could see the barn at the end of the street. So close.

“I normally do, just helping out Tommy this morning.”

“Well,” he stopped walking, and you found yourself pausing too, reminding yourself to be respectful. “I’ll leave you be. Be careful out there. Never know what kind of madness you might come across outside those gates.”

You stared at him for a second, brain struggling to catch up with his shift in tone. Lincoln’s cheery smile was gone, and his face seemed almost solemn as he gave the warning. 

When you didn’t respond for a moment, he spoke again. “You be safe then.”

“Always am,” you quipped, before turning to stalk towards the stables.

Joel and Tommy were already preparing the horses when you arrived. Tommy gave a friendly wave when he spotted you, beckoning you over.

“Morning, you remember how to use one of these?” he held a rifle out to you. 

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly, stealing a glance in Joel’s direction. He was adjusting the saddle on his horse, and didn’t acknowledge your presence. You shouldered the gun and let out a quick huff of exasperation. Fine.

“Joel saddled Dot up for you,” Tommy said. “We’ll head out in a second.”

Your annoyance waned ever so slightly, and you stared at Joel’s back curiously. He still didn’t turn; whatever he was fiddling with on Percy’s saddle must’ve been pretty damn interesting.

“That’s nice,” you muttered.

“Yeah,” Tommy muttered, gaze flitting awkwardly between the two of you when he noted your disingenuous tone. The contrast from when the three of you were last in the stables together was vast, and the younger Miller’s confusion was palpable. 

Joel didn’t say anything as you mounted your horses and rode out of the gates. You hung back, trailing behind their horses while you gained your bearings outside the walls of the settlement.

Large mountains decorated the scene, dusted so beautifully with snow that it would be picturesque if you weren’t so uneasy. It had been so many months since you arrived in Jackson, and being back outside caused your heart rate to kick up a notch. The landscape was vast, and memories of extensive stretches of time spent wandering aimlessly through the country played in your mind. So many cold winters spent hidden in dilapidated buildings, huddled underneath thin blankets, praying you wouldn’t lose your toes to the cold.

“So, we’re going back along the south patrol,” Tommy called back to you. “Same as what we did yesterday. Don’t worry too much about where we’re going, just follow us. Keep your eyes and ears open for anything strange.”

“Roger that,” you called back.

The three of you rode in silence for the first hour. You didn’t mind it much. Your shoulders were tense as you focused on your surroundings. Your ears were sensitive to the smallest of movements, body twitching at the slightest sounds.

“There she is,” you heard Tommy say up ahead, and your breathing hitched. “Fucking hell, the animals must’ve gotten to her.”

Dot trotted into step beside Tommy’s horse, and with a rolling stomach you looked down and spotted the body.

The dead woman was mangled, gory tears in her flesh clear even through the light smattering of snow that had fallen upon her. Animals had clearly gotten to her through the night, and you cringed to see the blood splattered on the bright white ground around her body. Joel was silent.

The three of you tied your horses to a nearby tree and set off on foot, looking for any signs the raiders might have left behind.

“I’m tellin’ you Tommy, we won’t find anything,” you could hear Joel grumbling under his breath up ahead. “She probably just fucking froze.”

“Let’s just be sure, Joel,” Tommy said firmly.

Joel exhaled heavily, and was turning his head to say something else, when you heard it. it was faint, almost too quiet to notice, but your ears pricked up.

Clicking.

Your feet ground to a halt. “Shut up,” you hissed.

“I beg your par-“ Joel turned to look at you for the first time, but stopped speaking when he saw the alarmed expression on your face.

You held a finger to your lips. Listen, you mouthed. Tommy and Joel shared a brief look, before Tommy gripped your jacket collar and hauled you forward to stand in between them.

“I thought they froze out here in the Winter,” you said quietly, eyebrows furrowed.

“Not all of ‘em,” Joel grunted.

“Alright, we move slowly,” Tommy whispered, eyes darting across their surroundings. “As quiet as possible. There shouldn’t be many, so we’ll sort this fucker out and then get back to the gate.”

“We’re gonna kill it?” you asked, eyes wide. Never in your years in the wild had you actively sought out any infected. When you heard clicking, you went the other way. “We should just head back now.”

“It’s part of the patrol. Gotta clear out any infected we come across,” Tommy told you, eyes apologetic. “You’ll be fine.” You refrained from admitting that it wasn’t you that you were worried about. As much as you and Cal had done your best to avoid them, you’d had to kill plenty of infected in your lives. But you were hit with the sudden realisation that you hadn’t even brought a knife with you. Jesus, I’m out of practice. 

Quietly as possible, you checked that your rifle was loaded, and the three of you walked toward the noise with your weapons raised. Your heartbeat thudded rhythmically in your ears, and the ache of anxiety grew in your chest. The clicking grew louder the further you walked, and your heart stuttered when they finally came into view. Not one, but two.

Your palms were sweaty against the rifle, and you cursed quietly, reaching down to wipe your right hand on the thigh of your pants.

“We’re good,” Joel whispered. You could see him watching you, out of the corner of your eye, but your gaze stayed trained on the duo up ahead. They were close together, twitching and writhing underneath a tall tree a few hundred metres ahead.

The way the creatures transformed with time never ceased to amaze you, in a morbid way. Fungal plates grew out of their heads, hues of bright orange and blue. After a year or so of infection, the fungus had solidified their bodies, making them stronger; more impenetrable. These should be the things that haunted your nightmares.

The three of you crept forward, and the infected were unaware of your presence, until a twig snapped painfully loud under your boot. They let out loud screeches, heads snapping in the direction of the sound.  

You grunted as your right side roughly bumped against Joel’s left, and you realised that you’d both moved to step in front of the other. “Get back,” he barked, staring through the scope on his rifle.

“I got the left,” Tommy shouted, all attempts at stealth thrown out the window. A deafening crack rang out as Tommy shot at one of the clickers. Joel took a shot at the one on the right but growled in frustration when the bullet sizzled just past it. He went to empty the bullet casing and swore when his gun jammed.

You could hear Tommy somewhere to your left, warning you that there was a third infected. Stepping forward, you shot at the one running at you and Joel. The bullet lodged solidly in its torso, but it was too close at that point, and within a second it was on you.

“Fuck,” you yelled, the wind getting knocked from your lungs as you landed on you back.

Your hands pushed at its neck, holding its snapping mouth as far from you as you could. It was snarling and screaming in you face, and white noise rushed in your ears. Its arms flailed, hands swiping viciously towards your face. It landed a heavy blow to the side of your head, and you screamed in pain. A thunderous shot rang out, and a wet sensation splashed across your face. Your head smacked back against the ground as you recoiled, the clicker collapsing above you with its head split open.  

The body was heavy on top of you, and a painful buzzing in your left ear had you grimacing in discomfort. You cupped your ears in attempt to soothe the ache. The weight on top of you finally disappeared, and you took the opportunity to roll onto your side. Warm hands were on your back, your arms, grabbing you.

Joel’s urgent voice finally reached you, calling your name, and you opened your eyes. His knees thudded heavily into the snow beside you, hands gripping the lapels of your jacket and dragging you into a seated position.

You stared at him in a wide-eyed daze. His hands ran over your body frantically, tugging your collar away from your neck to touch your skin, and checking your bare hands. He snapped your name, trying to get your attention. “Are you bit?”

Your face was so wet. As you slowly returned to clarity, it was all you could feel. And in a horrifying moment of realisation, it was all you could taste. The smell of metal and rot had invaded your mouth, your nose. You pushed herself back from Joel just in time to empty the contents of your stomach onto the snow between you.

He gripped your hair at the base of your neck, rubbing your back in short, rough circles. Somewhere far off, you thought you could hear speaking, but it was muffled.

“Is she bit, Joel?” Tommy was saying. Your stomach twisted violently, and you vomited again. When you managed to settle, Joel tugged you up onto your feet, his arm wrapping around your waist.

“Joel?" Tommy urged louder.

“She’s not fucking bit!” Joel yelled, his eyes tight with concern as he wiped the blood off your face with a rag. He walked hastily in the direction of the horses, and when you finally reached them, he tried to get you on his horse with him.

“I can ride,” you mumbled, your own voice sounding muffled.

“Just come wit-“

“I can ride on my own,” you asserted, allowing him to help you mount Dot.

The ride back to the gate was long. Joel rode right next to you, not speaking but never letting you out of his sight. The shock was wearing off, but you felt like you had vertigo; dizziness made you grip the reins tighter, and you prayed internally that you wouldn’t fall off. When the gate finally came into view, you could’ve sobbed from relief.

On Maria’s orders, you weren’t allowed to leave the gate check in point until the settlement’s doctor came and gave the all the clear. Tommy and Maria watched you like a hawk, but you paid them no mind. You were sat on the ground, cradling your aching ear, while Joel made futile attempts to clean up your face. He couldn’t do much though, without warm water. No one said anything. 

“You’ve got a perforated eardrum,” Dr Llewellyn told you, after shining a light into your left ear. It was leaking a clear, blood-tinged fluid that made your skin itch. “I’ll give you some antibiotics to help ward off any infection, but it should heal up on its own within a fortnight or so.”

“Okay,” you nodded slowly, accepting a small bottle of pills. “Thank you.” Considering you were covered in blood and brain matter and dirt, you were surprised by how unfazed Llewellyn appeared.

A low whistle rung out and you turned to look at Tommy. “I’m impressed,” he said quietly. “You held your own out there. We could use someone like you on the patrol team.”

“Tommy,” Joel started, but you interrupted him.

“Can you take me home?” His head swung to look at you and he was nodding quickly, gripping you hand to pull you up off the ground.

He was quiet, on the walk back. It wasn’t out of character, but you could sense a unique solemnity to it. One of his hands was on you at all times, and his head darted around constantly to see if there was anyone on the street who would spot you. Your demeanour would definitely cause alarm, and he wanted to avoid it if possible. The hearing in your left ear was almost entirely muted, and you walked in a daze, wincing at the headache pulsing in your skull.

Cal was still out when you got back, and Joel ushered you into the bathroom. He started the shower and helped you strip out of your ruined clothes. When the water was warm, and you were standing naked in the middle of the room, he turned toward the door.

“Joel,” you whispered, tears brimming on your waterline. As the shock wore off fully, you felt panic flare inside of you again. “Please stay.”

“Of course,” he hushed, putting his hand on your shoulder. His face looked tired, eyes and mouth downturned in concern. “Let’s clean you up, okay darlin’?”

You nodded meekly, allowing him to walk you into the shower and underneath the warm spray. He kicked his shoes and socks off, peeling his clothes off quickly before stepping into the stream of water beside you. Red and brown water ran down your body, and you shut your eyes quickly. You hair was matted thickly to your head, dried blood glueing it to your scalp.

Joel’s hands rubbed water into it, gently working out the tangles until it was clean. When the blood and grime was gone, he shampooed and conditioned it, nudging your head back softly to wash the suds out. You kept your eyes closed, tears still welling in them. The sense of failure and shame bubbled painfully in your chest. Why couldn’t you keep yourself safe? Why did you always get hurt? You felt like a fucking liability.

He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, signifying that your hair was clean, and began rubbing soap over your body.

“Joel,” you said his name again urgently, voice thick with unshed tears.

“I’m here,” he soothed.

“I need you to check,” you said, voice so low he almost didn’t hear you.

“Check what?” he asked after a moment, his tone steely. Your eyes opened, and a tear rolled down your cheek as you stared at his blank expression. His hands had stopped moving.

“Please, just,” you gulped. “Check for bites. We might’ve missed something.”

 “You’re not fuckin’ bit,” he ground out.

“Please,” you begged, a sob racking through you body. “What if there’s one and we just haven’t seen it? Please.”

“Okay, okay, I’ve got you,” he acquiesced finally, realising that your panic wouldn’t subside until he did this for you.

With painstaking care, he resumed his ministrations along your body. Dragging the bar of soap along your skin, checking for bites on your neck, your back. His fingers traced the length of your arms, down to your fingers. His knees cracked loudly as he crouched beside you, hands brushing down your legs, checking.

When he stood back up, he wrapped his arms around you and tugged you into his chest. “You’re safe,” he murmured in your ear, grip tightening as you cried. “There’s nothing, you’re safe.”

Joel had you wrapped in a blanket and in front of the burning fire in your living room within the hour. He’d rifled through Cal’s room looking for a beanie, and gently tugged the navy hat on your head when he returned.

“He won’t mind I’m sure,” Joel muttered while dropping down onto the ground on your right side. He stared affectionately at how cosy you looked.

“He won’t. We share clothes all the time,” you said softly, gaging his reaction. He nodded slowly, eyes staring into the fire. The moment reminded you so strongly of the night a few weeks prior, when he’d found you wandering Jackson late at night in search of firewood, with a busted face.

“I’m sorry,” he said, the sincerity in his tone surprising you. His gaze held on the flames, but his hand drifted under the blanket to rest on your knee. “I was out of line, and I acted like a jealous kid. I don’t know what came over me.”

You didn’t speak for a moment, mulling his words over in your head. All the anger you’d felt towards him was so foreign now, after your near death experience, but you knew you had to talk about it. The way he’d held you in the shower, cleaned your skin... you weren’t ready be done with him.

“I suppose I’ve been relying on myself for so long,” he continued. “That I gotta … adjust to having other people in the picture. I had to adjust with Ellie, and now with you… I’m adjusting again. And it’s a good change; I want you in the picture.”

“You do?” you asked, wishing he would look at you. His cheeks were red from the warmth of the fire, and he cleared his throat nervously, nodding.

Finally, he turned his head to meet your eye. “I think I’ve wanted you in it since the first time I met you.”

You rolled your eyes, “That’s bullshit, Joel.”

“Okay,” he laughed quietly. “The fourth time I met you, then.”

You stared at each other. For once, you didn’t feel like hiding as his eyes slid over the features of your face, taking you in.

“Cal’s my family,” is all you said.

“And I won’t get in the way of that,” he held your gaze.

“Are you sure?”

He breathed your name. “It terrifies me to admit it but… I want you in any way I can have you. If Cal is your family, then I’m not going to fuck with that. I trust you.”

“He’s happy, you know,” you started, resting your hand on top of his. You chose your words carefully. “That you’re… in my life. He thinks you’re a good person.”

Joel’s eyes softened further, and he had the good grace to appear embarrassed.

“I need to say something though,” you continued, and his face tightened with alertness, hanging on your every word. “After everything that I’ve been through, the way I’ve lived… being in Jackson has brought order back to my life, Joel. And I need that. I need to feel in control of my life, and my decisions. If I want something, like going on a patrol,” his eyes darkened, but he stayed silent. “then I will. And you need to accept that about me. My decisions are my own.”

“They are,” he said firmly, squeezing your knee.

After a beat of silence, you gripped his hand tighter, and admitted, “I want you too. In my picture.”

He nodded, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours. “I know, darlin’.”

“Gonna have to stay on my right side though, with this bum ear,” you sighed.

“We can handle a perforated ear drum,” Joel chuckled quietly, his nose brushing against yours. “You stay on my left, and I’ll stay on your right. We only need two workin’ ears between us."

And as sweet as it was, the moment was broken by the front door of the house unlocking loudly, and Cal stumbled into the room. He took in the picture quickly, watching you both with a distressed look on his face.

“Cal?” you asked, eyes wide. You figured he'd heard what happened on the patrol and rushed home to see you.

“You okay?” Joel stood, taking in the younger man in confusion.

“Sorry,” he breathed heavily, pushing his snow slicked hair back off his forehead. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“Don’t apologise,” Joel said, offering a sheepish smile. Cal watched him warily, and looked to you.

“Someone’s gone missing,” he said, catching you off guard. Your shoulders tensed, and you nodded.

“Milena, right?” you asked. “I heard the other day. I thought she’d just left Jackson.”

“Who?” Cal frowned, his hands shaking. “No, it’s Rebecca, from the patrol group. I just ran into her husband; she didn’t go home last night, and he hasn’t been able to find her today. They’re putting together a search party.”

22/09/22: i’m going absolutely insane over this!!! EXASPERATED SLEEPY FRIENDS TO LOVERS INDEED!!! this was genuinely so fun to read, your writing flows so easily, you’re so talented AND THE WAY YOU WRITE JAKE IS SO-!!!!!! ANYWAYS!!!! MY FAVORITE PARTS ARE BELOW THE CUT!!!

“Urges that increase tenfold when you open it to see Jake Seresin, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly in an old Navy shirt that looks way too soft for your sleep addled brain to deal with right now.” what an image!!!

“You narrow your eyes. “What if I have someone here?”

He smirks and you kind of want to slap him.” this part already shows so much of their dynamic i love it so much.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he drawls, letting you feel the heat of his body as he passes by you, just a touch too close for comfort.” JUST A TOUCH TOO CLOSE FOR COMFORT!!! I JUST KNOW HE DID IT ON PURPOSE LITTLE SHITTTTTTTT

“You should be preparing yourself for whatever he’s about to say that’s sure to make you lose your footing. But he looks like a goddamn sleepwear model like this, mellow and soft and cuddly, eyes drooping a little from tiredness and the whiskey he was sipping on all night, clothes begging to have someone’s hands fisted in them and…okay. Stopping that train of thought right the fuck now.” droopy eyes and floppy hair. i see it all. i want him. also love how she gets lost in thought ajxhsjhxhshdhshd

“Nothing but danger lies down that road with a girl like you and a guy like Hangman.” 🥲🥲🥲

“Message received, Hangman. We both know I’m not your type.” THAT’S NOT IT AT ALLLLLLLLL :(

“It’s one hundred degrees in this room,” Hangman defends himself. “I can’t sleep in pants, I’ll die.” why is he so ridiculous and dramatic i can’t ajxhsjxhshdhhsdh

“Relax, sugar. Just trying to keep you warm, since you’re always so cold. Been told I’m like a furnace.”

By who? You want to snap at him, but instead you swallow the words and lean into his chest. He really is warm.” love love love how she’s already thinking about an answer to throw at him but decides against it because HE REALLY IS A WARM 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

"I know," you whisper, not trusting yourself to say much else without divulging all the thoughts about him you've buried deep under your comforter at home.” AAAAAAAAAAAAA SCREAMING ALREADY

“You squint, still kind of wondering if he can feel your pulse racing.” i love this quote <3

“Well, he definitely wanted to.” You’d love to imagine there’s a hint of bitterness in his tone, but you know that’s just wishful thinking.” NO IT’S NOT!!!!!! HE PAID ATTENTION!!!!! HE LIKES YOU!!!!

“Part of you wants to roll your eyes and scoff at him, as if Casanova Jake Seresin has any idea what that feels like, but he’s rubbing small, comforting circles in between your shoulder blades and it’s short-circuiting your brain. You find yourself running your fingers up his spine instead, playing with the soft threads of his t-shirt like you’ve wanted to since the moment you saw him at your door tonight.” absolutely losing it they’re so touchy with each other and COMFORTABLE WHILE DOING IT AND THEY REALLY THINK THEY’RE JUST GOOD FRIENDS??? GOOD PALS??? HELLO??? also the way you wrote this ❤️❤️❤️❤️

“You take your hand back like it’s been burned, cheeks suddenly hot as you realize you’d gotten carried away. “I’m sorry, I just—I didn’t think about what I was doing. Got distracted.” NOW MY BRAIN IS STARTING TO SHORT-CIRCUIT!!!

“He pulls your fingers back to his stomach, and you can’t help but immediately brush them over his happy trail.” STOP I’M GOING TO CRY AND THROW UP HE PUT THE FINGERS BACKSJCHSHCSHCHDHCHDHHFHSHDDH STOPPPPPPP

“I’m not like this, you want to say. I’m not like you.

He exhales audibly, looking down at you, at the cherry blooming on your cheeks, at where your dainty fingers pluck at his shirt. His hand clenches once in the pillow above your head, knuckles practically white, before releasing.

“I know, sweets, was only joking. Fuck, I get that you’re a good girl,” he breathes, strained like he’s barely holding it together. “S’why I always want to ruin you.” i’m not like you meaning jake is a slut i mean she’s not wrong there. BUT ALSO: THE WAY AND THE CONTEXT IN WHICH HE SAYS GOOD GIRL I HAVE JUST PASSED AWAYYYYYYYYYY

“How many nights you've spent biting back his name, too embarrassed to let your lips form the syllables of someone who you were certain didn’t want you.” this line hit so hard. she really had set in stone in her mind that he didn’t have feelings for her oh GOD HOW LONG HAVE THEY BEEN PINING FOR EACH OTHER I’M GOING TO CRY!!!

“All you can manage is a nod, eyes starting to glaze over as he fills every inch of your vision.” OKAYSJCHSUCYYSYCHSHXHSHD

“And suddenly his words are hot in your ear. “What do you want, sweetheart? Want me to ruin you? Tell you about all the times I’ve thought about taking you apart?” TELL YOU ABOUT ALL THE TIMES I’VE THOUGHT ABOUT TAKING YOU APART I CAN’T DO THIS HOW DARE YOU I HAVE NO WORDS.

“His hand stops at your neck, just briefly, thumb rubbing on your pulse point. And it turns every last bit of you in you to sweet, sticky, melting caramel. Your breath hitches, you suck your bottom lip between your teeth, holding back a whimper.” 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 i’m going through it right now 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

“He’s not even doing anything, not really, but your mind immediately latches onto what he could be.” EXACTLY!!! OH MY GOD!!!

“Thought you were so fucking innocent,” he grunts, running his thumb from your pulse point to your jaw and back again. You bring your hands to his, pulling him closer, silently asking him to press down.” CAN HE PLEASE STOPSJDJSCHSHDHDH

“But Jake’s head drops next to his hand at the crook of your neck, and he makes a strangled noise, the moan reverberating through your skin. 

“Jesus,” he mutters against you. “Trying to kill me, sugar?” slut ❤️

“Your fingers are still grasping his hand, the one still around your neck, tightly, like you’re scared he’ll pull it away, leave you to drift without his grip to ground you, to remind you this moment is real. It’s actually happening.” feeling so many emotions right now this is so beautiful!!! getting her grounded!!!!!! there’s so much trust here at the same time that she really doesn’t believe it’s actually happening (which would make her a little insecure) but it’s jake ❤️❤️❤️❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹🤒🤒🤒🤒

“He lifts his head up to latch his mouth onto yours again and it’s heavier, so much more desperate than before. You whine into him as he slides his hands down your body, pushing up your shirt and you want to laugh at the absurdity of it, that you’re more turned on than you’ve ever been in your entire life and you’re both still fully clothed.” THEY’VE WANTED EACH OTHER FOR SO LONG HAVEN’T THEY AAAAAAAAA

“Warmth blooms in your chest at the realization he might’ve imagined this even half as much as you have. You’re sure you’re smiling like an idiot.” YESSSSSSS NEW FAVORITE PEOPLE EVER WHY AM I EMOTIONAL 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

“You don’t notice you’re on the verge of a sob until he brushes your hair back from your sweaty forehead. “Just a little more, sweetheart, you can take it.” no words. no words. i refuse.

“Jake practically preens. “Where’d my feisty little brat go? That all it takes to shut you up, sugar?” STOPPPPPPPSHCXHSHXSHHXHS

“You’re not sure you’re still functioning. You’re not sure you’ll ever move again. You’re pretty sure you’ll ever have a coherent thought again.” YEAH.

“Sweetheart?” He asks when you’ve been silent for minutes, or maybe hours, who knows.

You look up at him, blinking slowly, eyelids made of lead, vision unfocused.

Jake grins, and it's almost boyish. It's annoyingly cute. “That good?” god he’s SO COCKY AND IT’S LIKE YOU SAID IN THE BEGINNING OF COURSE HE’S COCKY FOR A REASON NO ONE IS THIS CONFIDENT WITHOUT REASON TO BACK IT UP. I HATE HIM. THIS PART IS PERFECT. EVERYTHING ABOUT IT.

“As it stands, you’re too dazed to actually do either. You nod, silently burrowing your face into his neck. He chuckles again, and you decide maybe you don’t hate that teasing sound that much, maybe you’ll spend your days trying to elicit it from him as often as possible. You’re still thinking about it when he peels himself off you to clean you both up.” MAYBE YOU’LL SPEND YOUR DAYS TRYING TO ELICIT IT FROM HIM AS OFTEN AS POSSIBLE I LOVEEEEEEEEEEEEE THEM!!!

“When he settles back down, he pulls you in tight, curls around you in a way that should be uncomfortable, like he’d crawl inside your skin if he could.” ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

“Jake is still glued to you when you wake up in the morning, and your heart clenches too affectionately to be irritated by the fact that you can’t really move. Or breathe.” this is all so sweet and endearing my heart is getting arrhythmia.

“You don’t think he’s that much of an asshole, you’re pretty sure the bravado is all a front. That he wouldn’t do something like this, knowing how you operate, without any intention of moving forward, but the anxiety still thrums incessantly beneath your ribcage.” HE REALLY WOULDN’T BECAUSE HE LIKES HER SO MUCH ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️😡☹️☹️🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 but she still can’t help feeling a little insecure but that’s okay!!! all will be resolved!!!

“Guess that fifty bucks I gave Phoenix to find somewhere else to stay was a steal,” he mumbles, fingers dancing across your bare skin.” AND THERE IT ISSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!

this was so good!!!!! friends to lovers with hangman hits so differently!!! and combining that with the way you write, the way you set the scene??? perfection. AND YOUR SMUT??????????????? WILL BE NEEDING SEVERAL WEEKS TO RECOVER!!!!!

have you considered maybe writing a part 2 about them or a little prequel? so we see more of their dynamic? 🥺🥺🥺🥺 sorry i’ve fallen in love, they’re just adorable and i can’t wait to read more of your work!!!

do not disturb

pairing- jake 'hangman' seresin x female!reader (no use of y/n)

synopsis-

“It’s one hundred degrees in this room,” Hangman defends himself. “I can’t sleep in pants, I’ll die.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, considering just sleeping in the hallway yourself and ending this torture. “Is your penchant for drama genetic? Are your sisters like this too?”

warnings- 18+ only minors DNI, what's a plot never met her, explicit protected piv sex, lil corruption/innocence kink, choking (pls look up the correct way before doing it), hangman's dirty mouth, size kink (if jake doesn't have a big dick I'm staging a revolt), brat tamer hangman if you squint, inexperienced ish reader (tried but I'm a hoe so idk if I managed it), no kink negotiation here (talk to your partners first irl), safewords not explicitly stated but I promise this is consensual af, excessive pet names, exasperated sleepy friends to lovers

length- 4k this was supposed to be like 1k I don't know blame hangman

an- this is just smut w lil fluff sprinkles. i'm a hangman girl (read: I'm obsessed with glen powell) so I felt some type of way about being mean to him in tailspin & that's why this now exists. also idfk what this even is sorry! hope it's not terrible ok ily bye

GIF by when-in-doubt-eat-pizza

Technically, it’s the middle of the night. 

That’s why you’re burying homicidal urges when you hear knocking on your hotel room door. 

Urges that increase tenfold when you open it to see Jake Seresin, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly in an old Navy shirt that looks way too soft for your sleep addled brain to deal with right now. 

“Hangman,” you greet drily. “Why the fuck.”

Rubbing sleep from your eyes, you’re not unhappy to see him, per se, but it’s well past acceptable social hours. He’ll have to forgive your less than enthusiastic welcome. Part of you thinks you might still be sleeping.

He at least has the decency to look sheepish for waking you up. Well, about as sheepish as Hangman is capable of looking. “Coyote said he was bringing someone back to our room. Can I crash with you tonight? Everyone else is either hooking up or dead asleep.”

Fucking weddings. 

You narrow your eyes. “What if I have someone here?”

He smirks and you kind of want to slap him. 

A testament to your willpower, you sigh instead, briefly wondering if it’s really that bad to force him to sleep in the hallway, before opening the door and stepping to the side. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he drawls, letting you feel the heat of his body as he passes by you, just a touch too close for comfort.

“Cool pjs.” He smirks again, raking his eyes up and down your colorful matching shorts and shirt set. 

“Bite me.”

Hangman smiles good-naturedly causing you to idly wonder if anything has ever bothered him in his entire life. 

“You’re real cute when you’re tired,” he says instead of being offended and now you’re debating if you actually should slap him, or maybe yourself for the way his compliment brings heat to your cheeks. 

“Where’s Phoenix? Thought you were sharing a room with her this weekend.”

Your stomach drops as you consider that Phoenix might be why he came to crash in your room, and you try not to make a face at its betrayal. 

“She’s probably in your room with Coyote,” you deadpan to cover up your discomfort, and then relish in the way his mouth drops open in surprise. “Christ, aren’t you supposed to be smart, Hangman? I’m kidding, she met someone at the reception.”

You know you’re being a little more abrasive with him than normal, but you can’t quite help the jabs that come out when you’re feeling uneasy. 

And Hangman does nothing, if not make you very, very uneasy. Especially like this, with his blonde hair soft and flopping all over his forehead, that old t-shirt clearly having been shrunk in the wash over the years straining across his chest, riding up a little high above his sweatpants. 

The gears are clearly turning in his head, no doubt forming something witty to gain back the slight upper hand you’ve gained in this verbal sparring. 

You should be preparing yourself for whatever he’s about to say that’s sure to make you lose your footing. But he looks like a goddamn sleepwear model like this, mellow and soft and cuddly, eyes drooping a little from tiredness and the whiskey he was sipping on all night, clothes begging to have someone’s hands fisted in them and…okay. Stopping that train of thought right the fuck now.

Nothing but danger lies down that road with a girl like you and a guy like Hangman.

You’re contemplating if you could get away with taking a cold shower when he finally looks around your room, its distinct lack of two beds apparently killing whatever comeback he had on the tip of his tongue. 

“I can sleep on the floor.” He’s rubbing the back of his neck again and his uncharacteristic awkwardness is starting to make your skin itch. 

Message received, Hangman. We both know I’m not your type.

You’ve seen the girls he usually goes home with. Even if every single one of them wasn’t annoyingly beautiful, you already know where you stand with him. For all intents and purposes, you’re just another one of the guys. Sure, you don’t take a different conquest home every other night like the rest of them, but you banter and compete with them like buddies. 

And since you and Hangman are just buddies, you roll your eyes for appearances. “Just get in the bed, Seresin. It’s huge, I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor.”

He shrugs, like he’s giving himself credit for his half-assed offer and goes to pull his sweatpants off. You give him a withering look of disbelief, studiously avoiding looking at the way his boxers stretch over his muscular thighs. 

“It’s one hundred degrees in this room,” Hangman defends himself. “I can’t sleep in pants, I’ll die.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, considering just sleeping in the hallway yourself and ending this torture. “Is your penchant for drama genetic? Are your sisters like this too?”

He just gives you a dazzling smile in response, and you spin away from him before everything inside you melts. 

Turning the thermostat down, you shoot an evident you’re welcome stare in his direction, but his sweatpants remain in their place on the floor. He’s laid out on the bed, all tanned skin and muscle, arms crossed behind his head in a way that’s surely meant to draw your attention straight to his biceps. 

Deep breath, you tell yourself. You can do this, just lay down on the other side and don’t be weird. 

You get in and pull the covers tight, hoping the shiver that runs through you as the air conditioning kicks on isn’t noticeable. 

“And I’m dramatic,” Jake huffs, getting under the blanket and rolling closer to you. You tense, merely out of reflex and a frown creases his eyebrows almost imperceptibly before he gets comfortable on his side, pulls you into his arms. “Relax, sugar. Just trying to keep you warm, since you’re always so cold. Been told I’m like a furnace.”

By who?  You want to snap at him, but instead you swallow the words and lean into his chest. He really is warm. 

“Would never do anything you don’t want me to,” he mumbles, but there’s a trace of a chuckle in his voice that feels like he’s making fun of you.

Mocking aside, that's definitely true.

You'd never expect him to do any of the things you want him to, either. There's a reason your apprehension stems from you crossing some sort of invisible line with him in your bed and not vice versa.

"I know," you whisper, not trusting yourself to say much else without divulging all the thoughts about him you've buried deep under your comforter at home.

“How come you didn’t ask anyone else to come up and keep you warm?” Jake teases, after a few moments of silence where you were busy focusing on the whirr of the air conditioner and trying to ignore your pounding heart. 

You squint, still kind of wondering if he can feel your pulse racing. 

“The curly haired guy, from the wedding,” he supplies helpfully to answer your confused expression.

Oh. You’re surprised Jake noticed you talking to him at all. “It’s not like I wanted to sleep with him. We were just chatting.” 

“Well, he definitely wanted to.” You’d love to imagine there’s a hint of bitterness in his tone, but you know that’s just wishful thinking.

“That’s not really my thing,” you say quietly, as if he doesn’t already know. He knew enough to know you wouldn’t have anyone up here with you, after all.

It’s so much easier, laying here in the dark, not having to meet his beautiful green eyes, to be honest. All your jabs having melted into smooth, silky edges at the warmth of his body.

There’s a playful lilt to Jake’s voice again. “Sex?”

You smack him lightly on the chest. “One-night stands. I can never get comfortable enough with a stranger to have a good time, things are just better for me when it’s more involved.”

When there’s feelings, you don’t say, because you’re pretty sure he can put two and two together without you having to spell it out.

You still kind of wish you hadn’t said anything, are kicking yourself for admitting that out loud when he cuts through the anxiety of your internal monologue.

“Nothing wrong with knowing what you want, darlin’.”

“It sucks sometimes,” you admit. “It can be a little lonely.”

“Better than being with the wrong person if it’s just going to make you feel bad.”

Part of you wants to roll your eyes and scoff at him, as if Casanova Jake Seresin has any idea what that feels like, but he’s rubbing small, comforting circles in between your shoulder blades and it’s short-circuiting your brain. You find yourself running your fingers up his spine instead, playing with the soft threads of his t-shirt like you’ve wanted to since the moment you saw him at your door tonight.

“Feels nice,” he comments, pulling you in closer.

Spurred on by his praise you keep going, wandering down his back to where his shirt rides up. You look down and see that little strip of blonde hair that disappears into the waistband of his boxers, slung low enough that you can see that stupid Adonis belt on his abs. Your hand moves to the front of him of its own accord, tracing the ridges there, brushing dangerously close to the strip of elastic at the top.

Jake’s arm pops up so he can support his head with his hand, looking down at you imploringly. “What’re you playing at, sugar?”

You take your hand back like it’s been burned, cheeks suddenly hot as you realize you’d gotten carried away. “I’m sorry, I just—I didn’t think about what I was doing. Got distracted.”

He’s definitely smirking, you can practically feel it in the air above you, but you’re sure as hell not going to look up and see that self-important grin for yourself.

He pulls your fingers back to his stomach, and you can’t help but immediately brush them over his happy trail. The dusting of blonde hair surprises you a little, having expected Hangman to be too vain to leave any hair around that might distract from his physique.

You’re silently wondering if he has any hair on his chest when he catches a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. You see his green eyes darkened, studying your face for something. You’re not entirely sure what.

Apparently finding what they’re looking for his expression softens, the hand supporting his head going to brush hair away from your face and you break eye contact, feeling small under his undivided attention. His fingers hover for a second, like he wants to do something more, but go to rest on your pillow instead.

“Thought that I had you pegged wrong all along for a second there, using lines to get in my pants. That’s not really my thing,” he mimics, smile twitching at the edges of his lips.

“Oh, I’m—Jake, I’m not—” you stutter, certain you must be bright red now. Your fingers are playing with the hem of his t-shirt, nervous and fidgety energy working to get released.

I’m not like this, you want to say. I’m not like you.

He exhales audibly, looking down at you, at the cherry blooming on your cheeks, at where your dainty fingers pluck at his shirt. His hand clenches once in the pillow above your head, knuckles practically white, before releasing.

“I know, sweets, was only joking. Fuck, I get that you’re a good girl,” he breathes, strained like he’s barely holding it together. “S’why I always want to ruin you.”

What.

Everything inside your mind shuts off.

All you can hear is the humming of the air conditioner, the slow intake of air into his lungs. Something inside you clenches.

You’re fairly certain a sound that closely resembles a whimper breaks from your throat, but you can’t know for sure, since all thoughts have been erased from your brain.

You hear him suck in a sharp breath, breathing in and out evenly for a couple seconds, regaining control, before he speaks again. “Sorry, sweetheart. Shouldn’t have said that. I won’t, told you I’d never do anything you don’t want.”

You already know that. That’s not the problem. The problem is how many nights you’ve already spent wishing his fingers were on you instead of your own. How many nights you've spent biting back his name, too embarrassed to let your lips form the syllables of someone who you were certain didn’t want you.

Now, though, those walls of certainty seem to be crumbling at every edge. 

“What if I want you to?” You ask quietly, barely above a whisper. It almost gets stuck in your throat, but you force your lips to form those words and let them leave your lungs.

Jake’s entire body goes tense.

But then he rolls over, putting you on your back and caging you in with his arms.

“You mean that?” He’s looking at you intensely, so intensely you might be frightened if you weren’t distracted by the weight of him on top of you, by every single scorching point of contact between you. 

All you can manage is a nod, eyes starting to glaze over as he fills every inch of your vision.

He chuckles. “Guess that’s a yes.”

Jake ducks his head to kiss you, it’s sweet, sweeter than you ever would’ve expected from him. Sweeter than you thought it would be when you were hiding beneath the sheets in your bed, with your fingers on your clit, choking back his name. 

But then he slides his tongue past your lips, deepening the kiss as he tangles a hand in your hair, tugging hard enough to make you moan straight into his mouth. His lips move down to ghost over your neck, across your jaw. 

And suddenly his words are hot in your ear. “What do you want, sweetheart? Want me to ruin you? Tell you about all the times I’ve thought about taking you apart?”

Your thighs clench together, heat blooming in your stomach and you notice, all at once, how wet you really are, slick pooling between your thighs under the wispy material of your sleep shorts. 

You open your mouth to say yes, desperately trying to find your voice, to find your familiar jabs so you can go toe to toe with him like normal, but all that comes out is a squeak. 

His hand stops at your neck, just briefly, thumb rubbing on your pulse point. And it turns every last bit of you in you to sweet, sticky, melting caramel. Your breath hitches, you suck your bottom lip between your teeth, holding back a whimper.

He’s not even doing anything, not really, but your mind immediately latches onto what he could be.

Jake’s eyes go wide for just a second before something wicked glints in the thin ring of green left.

“Thought you were so fucking innocent,” he grunts, running his thumb from your pulse point to your jaw and back again. You bring your hands to his, pulling him closer, silently asking him to press down.

You open your mouth to respond, but you don’t know how to explain. You may not do this kind of thing a lot, but you know what you like. Your imagination has certainly run wild enough times.

But any words that might’ve been readying themselves to leave your lips wither into nothing the moment he squeezes your neck.

“Jake,” you gasp, words breathy underneath the fingers around your throat. “Jake, I…”

“Hmm, what’s that, sweetheart?” His hand relents a little so you can answer, but you immediately wish he’d tighten his hold again.

“Yes, Jake,” you whine. “I want you to ruin me.”

And you don’t know what’s come over you, if you were even an ounce more present in your own body you’d probably be embarrassed.

But Jake’s head drops next to his hand at the crook of your neck, and he makes a strangled noise, the moan reverberating through your skin. 

“Jesus,” he mutters against you. “Trying to kill me, sugar?”

You don’t have an answer for that because you’re not trying to do anything, you just want more.

Your fingers are still grasping his hand, the one still around your neck, tightly, like you’re scared he’ll pull it away, leave you to drift without his grip to ground you, to remind you this moment is real. It’s actually happening. 

He lifts his head up to latch his mouth onto yours again and it’s heavier, so much more desperate than before. You whine into him as he slides his hands down your body, pushing up your shirt and you want to laugh at the absurdity of it, that you’re more turned on than you’ve ever been in your entire life and you’re both still fully clothed. 

He peels your shirt up and over your head, letting out another obscene groan at the sight of your bare chest. 

“Fucking perfect,” he murmurs. 

You fist your hands in his shirt in answer, tugging upwards, figuring fair is fair. You’re trying hard not to blush, not to show how his approval makes you light and fuzzy. He grins and sits back on his knees, pulling his shirt up and over his head, ruffling his floppy hair in the process. 

Lips parting unconsciously, your tongue flicks out to wet them. You knew he was built, but it’s overwhelming, really, to have all that tan skin on display just inches from your face. You get to run your hands up the length of his entire chest now though, leaning up so your fingers can dance through the tuft of blonde hair near the top.

Jake pushes you down on your back, firm, into the pillows. Smiling deviously when you pout and immediately clench your fingers in the sheets beside you, when your thighs press together, seeking some sort of relief to the ache between them. The seam of your shorts presses just right against your center, and you let your head fall back with a soft moan. 

Something akin to dangerous flashes in Jake’s eyes, as he hooks his fingers in your shorts, pulling down in one swift motion and tossing them off the bed before you can gain any more pleasure from the thin material. He pushes your legs apart and groans at the sight of you, glistening wet for him. “God, sweetheart, look at you.”

Just when you think you might die if he doesn’t put his hands on you, if he doesn’t touch you, if he just keeps looking at you like that, like he wants to devour you; he swipes a finger up your slit, tip pressing lightly, teasingly against your bundle of nerves. It’s too much, but not enough all at the same time. He slides a finger in, curling it exactly right on the first try and you can’t help but keen, throwing your head back into the pillows.  

He sucks in a sharp breath at your reaction, eyelids going heavy as he presses rough figure eights on your clit. “Want to get my mouth on you, get my tongue inside that gorgeous pussy, but I can’t wait, darlin’, been thinking about this for too long.” 

Warmth blooms in your chest at the realization he might’ve imagined this even half as much as you have. You’re sure you’re smiling like an idiot. 

Reaching down to the pocket of his sweatpants, he pulls a condom out of his wallet, and you want to tease him, presumptuous much? But any semblance of thought goes out the window when he pulls his boxers down, hard cock slapping against his stomach. Your mouth is suddenly, immediately sandpaper dry. 

Fuck.

Of course he’s huge. No one with an ego as colossal as his doesn’t have a reason, or several to back it up.

You don’t even hear yourself saying it out loud, don’t even realize the curses forming on your tongue, until he grins, eyebrow raised, chest puffed out in pride. “Think you can handle me, sweetheart?”

It takes you a few moments to answer, to figure out that you should answer, since you’re transfixed on him, on the strong fingers rolling the condom onto his length. If you had any sense of self-preservation at all you might be genuinely worried about his question, about not being able to walk tomorrow. 

Hopefully you don’t sound as winded as you feel when you tell him to shut the fuck up. 

Before you can bother with any stupid survival instincts, you’re pulling him down on top of you, wrapping your legs around his waist, savoring the grunt it draws from him as his tip reaches your folds.

“Love it when you’re mouthy, darlin’, nice little challenge for me,” he promises, before pushing himself inside of you. 

He goes slow, tortuously slow, and you screw your eyes shut tight as your walls flutter trying to adjust to him. You don’t notice you’re on the verge of a sob until he brushes your hair back from your sweaty forehead. “Just a little more, sweetheart, you can take it.”

The stretch of him seems to go on forever, just on this side of agonizing, but way too good for you to care about the pain, too good to be real and you can barely focus on anything else. Can barely hear Jake’s molten honey voice repeating a slew of continuous praises in your ear, can barely register the weight of his body covering every inch of you. 

Any moment now you’ll wake up in your bed at home, covered in sweat, grinding into your bed, achingly alone. You’re almost certain of it.  

But then you feel his lips on yours again, hand holding your cheek, gentle, affectionate as he bottoms out. When he finally moves, the heavy, slick pull of him in and out of you reminds you that you’re here. 

You don’t even recognize yourself, mewling, long string of unintelligible noises tumbling from your lips. 

Jake practically preens. “Where’d my feisty little brat go? That all it takes to shut you up, sugar?”

You can only hope those were rhetorical questions because he’s hiking your legs over his shoulders, picking up the pace, new angle hitting that spot deep inside you again and again, and you can’t form a single thought, let alone words. 

Jake’s fingers find your center again and press against your clit in heavy, decisive circles, winding that coil in you tighter and tighter. 

“So close,” you whimper, fingers tearing at the bedsheets.

He smirks. 

“Did I say you could come, sweetheart?”

Your jaw drops in surprise, eyes rolling back and ears ringing, mind engulfed in the heat burning in your belly. 

He’s still grinning smugly as one of those large hands comes back to your neck. 

You whine, high-pitched and breathless, eyes fluttering closed, gripping the hand around your neck as he applies pressure, desperate for something to hold onto, and you think you’re trying to form words, some of them may even be making it out of your mouth, something along the lines of please please please, let me come, Jake, I can’t, JakeJakeJakeJake…

“So pretty all fucked out like this, stretched around my cock.” His gaze is fixed on where he’s plunging in and out of you, tone almost reverent. “It’s okay, sweetheart, come for me, wanna feel you, want…”

You don’t hear the rest because you’re focused on where his fingers dig into the sides of your neck, tipping over the edge, string of lights inside of you tangled and blowing a fuse. Everything bursts all at once and you’re clutching Jake’s arms so hard you’re positive you’re leaving marks, but it doesn’t matter, you don’t care because you’re in a free fall, toes curling in bliss. 

When you come to, you’re just barely aware of his pace growing erratic, hand on your throat loosening as it goes to brush your sweaty hair back from your forehead. His thrusts are getting shallower, mouth spewing a litany of jumbled praises so tight, so wet, so perfect baby, when suddenly he’s arching over you, hands tight on your hips as he empties into the condom. 

You’re not sure you’re still functioning. You’re not sure you’ll ever move again. You’re pretty sure you’ll ever have a coherent thought again.

Distantly you can hear his heavy breathing, feel his weight on top of you but you don’t fully register it. 

“Sweetheart?” He asks when you’ve been silent for minutes, or maybe hours, who knows. 

You look up at him, blinking slowly, eyelids made of lead, vision unfocused.

Jake grins, and it's almost boyish. It's annoyingly cute. “That good?” 

That cuts through the haze enough that you kind of want to slap him, for the arrogance littering those three little words. Or yourself, for helping his ego grow any bigger. 

As it stands, you’re too dazed to actually do either. You nod, silently burrowing your face into his neck. He chuckles again, and you decide maybe you don’t hate that teasing sound that much, maybe you’ll spend your days trying to elicit it from him as often as possible. You’re still thinking about it when he peels himself off you to clean you both up. 

When he settles back down, he pulls you in tight, curls around you in a way that should be uncomfortable, like he’d crawl inside your skin if he could. 

Jake is still glued to you when you wake up in the morning, and your heart clenches too affectionately to be irritated by the fact that you can’t really move. Or breathe. 

But you take one look at the smirk on his face, the mischievous glimmer that seems to linger even in his sleep and the butterflies in your stomach turn to stone.

You don’t think he’s that much of an asshole, you’re pretty sure the bravado is all a front. That he wouldn’t do something like this, knowing how you operate, without any intention of moving forward, but the anxiety still thrums incessantly beneath your ribcage.

You’re lost inside your own head, fighting the panic rising in your chest when he yawns, rubbing his eyes before tucking himself back into your side, impossibly closer.  

“Guess that fifty bucks I gave Phoenix to find somewhere else to stay was a steal,” he mumbles, fingers dancing across your bare skin. 

It’s his turn to pat himself on the back as your mouth drops open in shock. 

Jake grins, eyes sparkling as he presses a kiss into your hair. “Good luck getting rid of me now.”

10/01/2022: HOW DARE YOU??? i read this in the morning, went to the dentist, had lunch, went to work, came back home and the entire day was just a BLUR because all that i could think about was THIS!!! 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 favorite parts are below the cut, you are a menace!!! (ily)

“you’d never once had the desire to call a partner that before in bed - ever. but with bradley it just fit.” your characterization is always on point, it always makes sense and i love you for it, jordan!!! i personally don’t always like when people overuse daddy (it just doesn’t do it for me) BUT AGAIN, with bradley it just fits it works you are always correct and i have died from this!!!

“but something you probably should have brought up at another time. like when all seven and a half inches of your fiancé’s dick wasn’t inside you.” STOPPPPP

“please,” you said into his neck, but bradley grabbed your chin so you were looking into his eyes.” GRABBED HER CHINNNNNNNNNNN

“‘atta girl…” DO NOT DO THIS TO ME THIS IS TOO MUCH

“‘s all you, kid. come on,” he groaned.” i have died.

“daddy, huh?” he said after a moment.

you sighed and pulled back to look at him, knowing you were in for some teasing, but still more than willing to give it just as good.

“don’t get used to it, bubs.”

(but he would. and he did.)” BUT HE WOULD AND HE DID 🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡 their banter will forever be unmatched!!! best people ever!!!

Jordan!! Share the thoughts!!!! We all are having the same ones!!! Especially since we talked about spanking!!! I seriously need to get laid or find the charger to my vibrator I’m going insane™

the aforementioned spanking will have to wait until later because i can’t quite think of how to incorporate it into their storyline yet (what can i say he’s a Giver in the next two things i’m gonna post), but here’s some good old fashioned daddy shit and cockwarming to hopefully wet your whistle (why did i say it like that?)

OR the first time you call bradley daddy (18+)

the first time it happened was an accident.

well, maybe not an accident, per se. you had thought it plenty of times since you’d been dating bradley and even more since you’d gotten engaged.

but you’d never said it. or at least not to him.

daddy. daddy. daddy.

you’d never once had the desire to call a partner that before in bed - ever. but with bradley it just fit.

and so one night, you had been a little tired from the edible you’d taken earlier (obviously bradley had to refrain) and buzzed from the champagne you were convinced you needed, and your inhibitions had been lowered - drastically. but the ironic thing was, you hadn’t been doing anything out of the ordinary. it wasn’t a scene or anything like that.

no. you were just sitting on his lap, chest to chest, as you warmed his cock after going another round earlier in the evening.

and again, you were a little tired from the edible and the champagne and your head was resting on his shoulder at the perfect angle for you to press little kisses across his cheeks and neck. so when you’d kissed the pretty little scar on his shoulder, he’d shuddered and shifted and you had let out a pitiful whimper. god, you felt so good. he always made you feel so good.

“feel so full, daddy.” you sounded wanton - you barely even recognized your own voice - you sounded tired, young, bratty.

daddy. daddy. daddy.

and then bradley tensed.

and then bradley dug his fingers into your hips.

and then bradley slightly pulled you off his cock.

and then bradley settled you back on his cock, deeper this time.

and then bradley groaned.

and then bradley said: “what was that again, sweetheart?”

you whimpered and couldn’t help but clench your pussy around his cock. embarrassed, you burrowed your face into his neck, knowing even on the cloud you were floating on that you had said something wrong. well, maybe not wrong. but something you probably should have brought up at another time. like when all seven and a half inches of your fiancé’s dick wasn’t inside you.

“daddy…” you whispered, except it came out needier than you would have liked.

bradley groaned and you could feel his cock twitch inside you. “you want more of daddy’s cock?”

“please,” you said into his neck, but bradley grabbed your chin so you were looking into his eyes.

he slipped his thumb into your mouth and you sucked on the tip. his fingers were still sticky from when they’d been inside you a few minutes ago and you felt warm at the thought of tasting yourself.

“you’re gonna have to work for it then…”

you nodded, eagerly. anything. you’d do anything for bradley - for daddy.

daddy. daddy. daddy.

bradley slapped your ass with his other hand and you moaned around his thumb. the action shot a hot wave of arousal straight to your throbbing core. god, you hadn’t even started moving and you already felt so full.

“come on, be a good girl and bounce on daddy’s cock.”

he was loving this, you could tell. if not from his physical reaction then from the cocky tone of his voice and the pleased smile on his face. but a breathier, sluttier voice at the back of your mind kept drowning the rational voice out and could only focus on one word.

daddy. daddy. daddy.

daddy wanted you to bounce on his cock. daddy wanted you to work for it. daddy wanted you to be a good girl.

you started off with slow, languid thrusts of your hips, gradually becoming deeper knowing that was the way bradley liked it - the way daddy liked it. his thumb slipped out of your mouth and then he drifted his hand down your body to play with your breasts. they were desperate for some attention and you jutted them out towards him. they were full and heavy and so sensitive and you let out a whimper as he pinched a nipple.

“‘atta girl…”

the obscene sound of the two of you fucked up against each other filled the room. you were so wet and turned on it was almost pathetic. granted, you still had bradley’s cum inside you from when you had fucked earlier. but god - it was so delicious. you could cum from the sound alone.

daddy. daddy. daddy.

as if reading your thoughts, bradley glanced down to where the two of you were connected and clicked his tongue. “fuck, ain’t that pretty?”

you nodded multiple times in quick succession. god, you were so close. so fucking close.

“harder, daddy, please.”

his hands snaked down to your hips and settled the two of you in a bruising pace and you swore you saw stars again for the second time that night. knowing you were close, bradley brought his hand down to where the two of you were connected and rubbed your clit. his middle and index finger played with the nub and you felt a pull in your stomach.

you arched your back and let out a moan, which he swallowed with his mouth. you both let out desperate gasps and grunts against each other’s mouths as you tried to see who would come first.

“‘s all you, kid. come on,” he groaned.

with a final cry, you came and bradley spent himself inside you soon after. you collapsed against his chest, utterly spent from the multiple times you had already cum that evening. god, you were so overstimulated. your entire body was wrought and warm and yet you still wanted to be closer to bradley. you peppered kisses along his jawline in between catching your breath.

“daddy, huh?” he said after a moment.

you sighed and pulled back to look at him, knowing you were in for some teasing, but still more than willing to give it just as good.

“don’t get used to it, bubs.”

(but he would. and he did.)

*shakes fictional character* where is the rest of your information I want to know more about you

i’ll do a proper reblog as soon as i finish work but HOLY SHIT HOW I’VE MISSED THEM 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 euro trip never fails to make my stomach do backflips!!! rafe and dream girl just have unforgettable chemistry, and the way you WRITE THEM??? RI I SWEAR IT MAKES MY HEART ACHE BECAUSE IT’S SO BEAUTIFUL!!! the name rafael has truly never been the same since euro trip!!! and your take on how to lose a guy in 10 days for THEM??? AND RAFE DOESN’T FALTER EVER. (EXCEPT FOR WHEN SHE SAID YES-I DIED) HE RINGS THE DOORBELL, HE GIVES HER MOM THE FLOWERS, HE WANTS TO LISTEN TO HER MUSIC, HE WILL TAKE HER TO EAT ANYWHERE SHE WANTS, HE COMPLIMENTS HER ALL THE TIME BECAUSE IT’S JUST SECOND NATURE TO HIM BY NOW. “Not to mention, you look like a bunch of inappropriate words in that dress,” he adds, teasing a wink. “Shit I definitely couldn’t say in front of your mom.” STOP, THIS IS SUCH A RAFAEL THING TO SAY I ADORE HIM I ADORE THEM I ADORE YOU, RI. pls truly never stop writing, you’re the best of the best.

How (not) to lose a guy in 10 days 1 date

a/n: warning unedited!!!!! just in such a silly goofy mood tonight

“Here’s an idea,” Topper whispers, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. “Say yes.”

You make a face. “Serious suggestions only, please.”

“Does it look like I’m trying to be funny?” He scoffs, folding his arms behind his head.

There’s a pause as he pushes back into his seat, rough fingers intertwining in tandem with your stomach. “Just hear me out.”

You aren’t sure you want to. The only thing worse than having a crush on your best friend is having him set you up with someone else.

Especially when said someone else is the one guy at Kildare Academy that you love to hate. You frown warningly. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Topper rolls his eyes, untangling his held hands so he can lean forward again. Though you’ve managed to secure a highly coveted, private study room within the Academy library, he appears to be under the impression that the football team may be listening at the door for gossip.

All things considered, this isn’t too high a leap. (Rafe Cameron’s been appointed the captain this year, and Topper swears locker room talk’s never been sweeter.)

“Relax,” Topper mutters, lowering his voice further. “Here’s what you do — you say yes, and then be the worst date ever.”

A beat. The frown on your face may acquiesce by a margin, but the knots in your gut hear the words say yes and tighten. “Be the worst date ever?”

“Yeah,” Topper nods in affirmation, beginning to list things off. “Make him wait, don’t offer to pay, be super fussy, only talk about yourself… that kind of shit.”

“Oh,” you say, brow furrowing thoughtfully, “Right.”

As much as you’d hate to admit it, his idea does make logical sense. Everything about Rafe Cameron, from the stupid, tongue-in-cheek comments he makes to the blasé way he appears to treat other women, gives you this funny, heart lurching feeling that this thing he has for you is about winning. Not about having, let alone loving; Rafe Cameron is in this for the chase, so what happens when this game of look-but-don’t-touch becomes too easy for his taste?

So, okay, maybe Topper’s onto something. He’s been on enough first dates to have a reputable number of red flags in his repertoire, and maybe they just might work against Rafe.

He allows you a contemplative pause before continuing. “Just… basically, just be the exact opposite of the person he expects you to be.”

“And who’s the person he expects me to be?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.

“This perfect fucking dream girl who gets Taylor Swift songs written about her,” Topper replies, not missing a beat. It’s as though he’s reciting something he’s heard verbatim, and the thought of this has your poor heartstrings all muddled.

“Don’t even,” you mutter awkwardly, feeling your cheeks warm. There’s something about the term dream girl that singes your pulse like a shockwave; makes you feel this terrifying mess of unnameable emotions.

Complimented, for example. More pleased than the armour of austerity your skin reflects when you’re around him.

“Not to mention,” Topper continues, not acknowledging your embarrassment. You know that it’s probably subtle enough for him to be blind to it, but a tiny part of you can’t help but think that Rafe would’ve noticed.

Rafe always notices. “If I’m the reason he gets a date with you, I’ll be fucking in.”

You crinkle your nose in disgust. “What’s so great about being in with Rafe Cameron?”

“Dude.” Topper sends you a look. “Are we even going to the same school?”

“He’s a total tool,” you argue, folding your arms across your chest.

“A total tool that everyone worships,” Topper corrects, crossing his own in tandem. “And if he worships me, that means everyone’ll worship me.”

You scoff incredulously, clearly unconvinced. “There’s no way Rafael’s approval has that much social currency.”

Topper raises his eyebrows, cocking his head to one side. “You know that the fact that you’re his girl is the only reason guys don’t try anything with you, right?”

“I’m not his girl,” you mutter weakly, far weaker than you’re hoping to sound. The dream girl heat roars back through your cheeks until you’re sure that you have a temperature.

Love-sick, or something. You add, “Guys don’t trying anything with me because they aren’t interested.”

“Are you kidding?” Topper asks, sounding mildly exasperated. “You’re totally hot. You have to know that.”

You balk. There’s a pause as your wide eyes move over his features, searching for more than just platonic nonchalance. “I — what?”

“We’re getting off topic,” Topper dismisses easily, not even half as flustered as you are by the turn in conversation. “Say yes. That’s all I’m saying. Say yes, and then make him regret ever asking.”

—

Rafe’s leaning against the locker door adjacent to yours when you turn the corner.

With his arms folded across his chest the way they are—rolled sleeves of his uniform shirt and all—there’s a devastating amount of bicep on display. And he’s grinning. He has too many button undone. If you squint, you can find the sun-bleached locks of hair on his head that are ashen blonde.

You always end up taking in far more details than you can handle. But where your inventory of his appearance is something of a transaction, his of you is like being in an art museum.

His grin widens as you near, blue eyes falling over your pretty features. “Missed you today, sweetheart.”

“I saw you fourth period, Rafael,” you say, frowning bemusedly.

Rafe nods faux-sombrely. “I know right?”

You roll your eyes, reaching forward to jiggle your locker door open. There’s a formidable amount of Rafe dominating your peripheral vision, and everything from his body heat to the spice in his cologne is distracting.

“Is there anything you need?” you ask, sending him a wayward glance.

“Oh.” His grin grows in all its handsome, boyish glory. “Not really. Just admiring the scenery.”

The sun shines over the neat library of textbooks tucked within your locker. As you retrieve the ones you need for the weekend, the glossy covers cast a glow over your still-there frown.

“You’re not,” you mutter. “You’re staring.”

“Exactly.”

“At me.”

Rafe shuffles forward a touch so his biceps hit the locker hinge. He’s so close now that the gleaming hardcover illuminates the smatter of freckles on his nose. “Admiring the scenery,” Rafe agrees.

You falter.

Like… you? You’re the scenery?

More pause as you attempt to steel yourself, something terrifying and messy wreaking havoc in your chest.

You’re definitely overcompensating when you scoff and say, “You’re so full of it, you know that?”

“What’s it?” Rafe asks, edging your locker door closed with his bicep. Closer now, close enough for the closeness to make his brain short-circuit. “Feelings for you?”

You balk, the tips of your ears warming. “Not exactly what I meant.”

“Love for you?” Rafe supplies unhelpfully.

“Rafe,” you chastise, frowning.

“Y/n,” Rafe teases, bumping your shoulder with his playfully. “C’mon. I just wanted to come by and say hi.”

“Right.” You slot the textbooks into your tote bag and turn around, beginning to walk away from him. “Hi.”

“Hey — wait,” he adds quickly, pushing off the adjacent locker to fall into your step. “You doing anything fun this weekend?”

“Oh, um,” remember what Topper said, “not really.”

“Yeah?” Rafe grins confidently, messing with his sweater-mussed hair. “Now you are.”

You slow to a halt, eyeing him warily. The inch of space between you halves as you angle your figure toward his, and you think you’re able to catch the tiniest specks of green in his irises. Buttery yellow too, especially where the sun shines over them. It’s kind of pretty. You blink. “And what exactly is it that I’m doing?”

“Going to that Japanese place that just opened up downtown,” Rafe answers easily. “With me. Tomorrow night.”

“Oh,” you say, nodding once. “Okay.”

Rafe’s turn to balk. The confidence in his gaze falters as his eyes widen, lips parting slightly as he looks over your features. “Uh… okay?”

“Okay,” you repeat, turning away from him to continue walking. “What time r’you picking me up?”

“I — shit, really?” Rafe asks, stumbling forward in surprise.

You nod again, hiding the amused smile that’s threatening to grace your features. You’d never dare admit it out loud, but it’s kind of cute seeing him all flustered. It does something soft and messy to your chest; reminds you that he’s only human.

That maybe something about his feelings for you are genuine. You say, “Unless you don’t want to?”

“No, yeah, shit, I do,” he hurries, shaking his head in an attempt to regain his composure. “I’m not dreaming, yeah? This is for real?”

“This is for real,” you affirm. Something heavy and cloying settles in your gut as you say it.

It’s almost for real, your guilty brain placates. It’s not stringing him along if this thing he has for you is about the chase.

Rafe steps into your path from his spot on your left, ducking his head an inch to look over your features. There’s something sweet about the way his blue eyes cascade over the planes of your face, falling from your pretty eyelashes to the cheeks below them, the kiss of your lips. He’s looking for something. The cement-like something in your stomach thickens.

“No way,” he murmurs, almost absentmindedly. He lifts his hand to caress your jaw, rough thumb swiping over your soft skin. “Okay, yeah. You’re definitely real.”

“Of course I am,” you say weakly, caught off guard by his closeness.

His thumb stills, but doesn’t drop. “Gotta make sure.”

You swallow slightly. “Why?”

“Because you said yes.” Rafe shakes his head, like he still doesn’t believe it. “There’s no version of this where you ever say yes.”

—

“That’s fucking perfect,” Topper says.

“Nah, shit’s overkill,” Kelce disagrees. “The outfit’s still gotta look first date believable.”

You frown at your reflection in the full length mirror, toying with the fraying hem of your shorts. “A dress?”

“Not a nice one, though,” Topper says, furrowing his brow thoughtfully. “How about that black one you wore religiously in junior year? The linen’s gotta be fucking faded by now.”

“Bro — yes,” Kelce nods. “That’s perfect. D’you still have it?”

You direct your camera toward your wardrobe, shuffling through the array of dresses on wooden hangers. Pushed against a dim wall with one of the straps hanging off, the midi in question hides behind newer dresses. As you attempt to tug it free, the sound of crunching tires coasts through your open window.

You freeze. There’s a beat, hidden within the depths of your walk-in, where Topper and Kelce see more white than iris as your eyes widen. You stumble back into daylight just as Rafe’s pick-up slows to a halt, his blaring ignition fading into the wind chimes hanging above your porch.

“Shit,” you curse, throwing your phone onto your bed screen down. “Guys. He’s totally here. Shit.”

“Dude,” Topper and Kelce placate in unison, speaking to your white ceiling. “Relax.”

“You know what you have to do,” Topper adds. “And it starts with making him wait.”

You grimace, pulling the linen dress on hastily. “What if he rings the doorbell?”

“He won’t,” Topper assures, shaking his head. “Dude. The worst he’s gonna do is like… honk, or some shit. He’ll probably just flick you a text that he’s here and chill in his car until —”

Ding.

The grimace on your features goes from pained to something a little anxious. Forget butterflies—gentle creatures, as if anything about your feelings isn’t all chaos—there’s a beehive that’s wreaking havoc in your stomach. The heart that’s meant to be in your ribcage is all melted.

This date isn’t for real. Why the fuck are you so nervous?

“— uh,” there’s a tentative edge to his voice, now, “who was that?”

You bring your phone back to eye-level, half checking yourself out and half glaring at Topper Thornton. “Who the fuck do you think it was, genius?”

Another ding. Kelce wolf whistles. “No fucking way he got out of his car.”

You frown. “Why?”

“Bro,” Kelce chides, sending you a look. “Guys don’t do that shit. I mean… fuck, I knew he had a thing for you, but no way he’s down bad enough to pick you up at your door on the first date. What if your fucking dad opens it? What if your mom invites him in? Gotta hand it to him… shit’s brave, even for a straight guy with a public Taylor Swift obsession.”

“Rafael has a Taylor Swift obsession?” you ask slowly, frowning less now. The revelation moves through you like a shock of electricity; quick and surprising until you’re feeling a little weak in the knees.

Pliable, almost. Like you and him and a common interest has this not-for-real date looking more and more like something genuine.

“Yeah?” He says it like it’s common knowledge. “How the fuck did you not know that already?”

You’re formulating an indignant response to his question when the sound of the front door opening cuts you off. And then, “Oh, hi Mrs Y/l/n, is Y/n in?” before your mother’s “Rafe!” has you well and truly hanging up.

You race down the stairs with sandals held by the straps just before she has a chance to ask why he’s here.

“Rafael,” you greet quickly, hopping down the last few steps whilst simultaneously slipping them on. “Hi.”

There’s no way that the two minutes he stood on your front porch counts as the “making him wait” from Topper’s first date disaster handbook, but at least the tired linen of your midi is far more casual than his crisp blue button-up.

Except, he totally still looks like his brain’s short circuiting as he stands there and stares. He holds a modest-looking bouquet of sunflowers to his chest, its lovely ochre glow speckling light in his irises like freckles. And there’s this look on his face, this genuine, reverential look as he takes you in; it has you breaking eye-contact before you expose yourself, makes your insides feel like a big, goopy mess.

A pause before Rafe’s shaking his head. You’re almost envious of how quickly he’s able to regain his composure. “Pinch me,” he says, grinning handsomely.

Your stomach flips. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to expose strong forearms, and his hair’s a little damp where it flops over his forehead. You wonder whether he showered right before he drove over here. And then, your mind strays to cool water cascading down his chiseled abdomen. Your brain’s short circuiting now. You blink.

“You shouldn’t have got me flowers,” you say lamely.

“I know right?” Rafe agrees. “Should’ve got you something bigger. A ring.”

Your mother gasps, her wide-eyes panning to you with a quickness.

“Mom, he’s kidding,” you assure hastily, and then you pause, brow furrowing a little. “I think.”

“I’m not,” Rafe supplies.

“Yes, you are,” you say sternly, sending him a look. “Keep the flowers, Rafael.”

Rafe pouts jokingly, turning to your mother and offering them to her, instead. “For you, Mrs Y/l/n?”

“Well that’s very gentlemanly of you,” your mother says, raising her eyebrows at you. She accepts them just as you begin walking toward the front door, keenly avoiding eye contact.

“Yeah, because Rafael’s known for how well he treats women,” you mutter grimly, pushing Rafe over the threshold and away from an inevitable interrogation. “Bye mom.”

“Home by 9, Rafe!” your mother calls after you, sunflowers at her hip.

Rafe, thoroughly enjoying your soft hands pressed into his back, turns his head and send her a reassuring wave. “You got it!”

Once you’re at his pick-up truck, he’s quick to break free in order to open the door for you.

And though the you part of your brain wants to argue against the action, Topper’s voice in your head—oh, and don’t forget, act like it’s your prerogative to be treated like a total princess—has you accepting it without question.

“That’s cute,” is all you say, sidling into the front seat like you own it.

Rafe has a hand on the hood of his car, the other resting over the passenger’s side window. His eyes move over your figure with that same, heart-squeezing reverence distilled within them, his tongue pressed to his cheek as he leans in to grin at you.

“Me opening the door for you?” Rafe asks.

You nod. “Bare minimum, but cute.”

“Fuck.” Rafe stumbles back, doing that infatuated, clutching-his-chest move that reminds you of Matthew McConaughey. “You knowing your self worth makes you hotter, somehow. As if that’s fucking possible.”

You don’t want to believe him, but rolling your eye’s is definitely overcompensation. “Right.”

“Not to mention, you look like a bunch of inappropriate words in that dress,” he adds, teasing a wink. “Shit I definitely couldn’t say in front of your mom.”

You frown down at the faded linen, smoothing out the creases puckering at your waistline. “It’s super old.”

“It’s super hot,” Rafe corrects.

“Rafael,” you reproach, frowning. “Do you want to go on this date or not?”

“Yeah—fuck, sorry, you’re crazy beautiful, okay?” he backtracks, raising his arms in surrender. And there’s that devastating grin on his face, again, ever-present as he jogs around the hood of his car. (Clumsily, of course, with his eyes on you from side-view mirror to side-view mirror. You aren’t sure whether this makes you want to murder him, or kiss that annoying smile right off his features.)

“Like, making me say stupid shit beautiful,” he adds. “Launch a thousand ships beautiful. Shakespeare beautiful. Taylor Swift beautiful.”

The bees in your stomach travel to your pulse, rendering it a hopeless, scrambling mess. “Speaking of,” you say, deciding not to address any of his compliments. “Can I connect to Bluetooth?”

“For sure,” Rafe says agreeably, getting into his seat and reaching forward. With forearm extended and large fingers fiddling with the stereo, there’s more of him in your periphery than there was a second ago. A lot more of him—from that heady cologne to the signet ring shaped sunspot on your shoulder.

Once he’s scrolled through the settings and found the pairing option, he turns to you expectantly. The sunlight streaming through the window behind him makes his hair look all pale and fluffy.

“Because I’m not interested in listening to your music,” you hedge.

“Fair enough.”

“Or knowing what’s in any of your playlists,” you add, growing a little exasperated. Is there nothing in this world capable of causing this guy perturbation?

“Bit of Frank Ocean,” Rafe says then, as if you’d asked him a question as opposed to dismissed him. “Taylor Swift, too—I know you’ve always liked her stuff.”

You falter, lips parting in surprise. “Really?”

“Of course.” Rafe’s smile is softer, now. The kind that says isn’t it obvious? without being overtly indignant. “They’re in most of them.”

“Oh,” you say weakly, taking pause in an attempt to regather your composure. This feels like stuffing an un-rolled sleeping bag back into its cover without folding it. “Doesn’t matter. Still don’t wanna listen.”

“Neither,” Rafe agrees. “I’d much rather listen to your music.”

Unbelievable. You try not to grimace as you say, “It’ll be the same as yours, though, apparently.”

“I know,” Rafe says matter-of-factly. “I have a whole playlist dedicated to you.”

The way he shrugs makes this revelation feel like common knowledge. Like the fact that Rafe fucking Cameron has expertly created the modern version of a mixtape for you is a given. Your pulse crackles alive, again.

“No you don’t,” you say quietly.

Rafe grins sheepishly, sliding his phone out of his front pocket. “I thought you knew. The whole football team’s heard it, your boys included.”

“No,” you repeat, eyes widening in disbelief. “I was sure they made that up.”

“Easy to make,” Rafe explains. “Difficult to make up.”

Easy to make? The idea that associating you with the sonnet-like lyrics Taylor Swift thinks up has your poor heart a mess. You say, “We’re not listening to it.”

“Good.” Rafe buckles in and switches on his ignition. “Yours’ll be better.”

“You don’t know that,” you defend, folding your arms across your chest.

“Yeah I do.”

“How so?”

“Sweetheart,” Rafe says, almost absentmindedly, placing his arm behind your headrest as he reverses. “Because everything about you is better than everything about me.”

—

You wait until the food that you ordered is on the table to say it.

“I don’t even like Japanese.”

And it physically pains you to do so.

As a matter of fact, everything about guileless Rafe and his immunity to Topper approved icks is proving far too painful for your guilt-ridden heart to handle.

Because nothing—nothing—you say or do affects him. The fact that you’re wearing an old dress to a new establishment, the fact that you’re acting as though you deserve the princess treatment regardless. (Rafe seems to be under the impression that you do. He’s been nothing but a gentleman since your front porch rendezvous.)

The fact that you haven’t said thank you, haven’t asked about him, haven’t acted in any way interested. The fact that you’re being totally fussy about dinner. If Rafe was a normal guy, he’d have run for a hills by now.

Except that he isn’t one. Within his chest cavity, there’s a locket with your photo in it instead of a beating heart.

He says, “No biggie. We can go somewhere else?”

“I — huh?” you balk, taken aback. “You’re kidding, right? What about all of this food?”

“What about it?” Rafe shrugs. “I’ll tell the waiter to pack it up. Or keep it for himself, whatever. What d’you feel like eating instead?”

Shit. He’s totally unfazed. There’s something about his nonchalance that makes your heart do a funny little flip. “Nothing,” you answer, trying to buy time.

“Nothing?” Rafe echoes, brow furrowing with concern. “You have to eat, dream girl.”

“Not hungry anymore,” you lie.

“We’ll wait till you are, then,” Rafe decides, reaching forward to give your hand a quick squeeze. “I’m easy either way.”

“But,” you falter, the heat of his palm jolting through you like electricity, “aren’t you hungry?”

“It’s really hard to focus on anything other than how pretty you look right now,” Rafe says honestly, grinning.

You groan, sliding your hand out from under his all sweet and nervous. “Rafael.”

“Y/n,” Rafe teases, his tone full of mirth. “Okay. Before we got here, you were telling me about that movie you watch every year.”

“10 things I hate about you?” you ask, smiling despite yourself. “No way you actually care about that.”

Rafe doesn’t miss a beat. “I care about you.”

A pause. Your eyes skate over his features with a slowness that makes them soften. “How?”

“How?” Rafe echoes, frowning bemusedly.

“You barely know me, Rafael,” you say quietly, timidly. The fight in you long gone, you’re beginning to accept that this thing is for real.

It’s terrifying.

You can deny it, avoid it, throw ick’s at it in an attempt to stall it, but you’re finally beginning to realise that the one thing that you can’t do is run from it forever.

“That’s not how it feels,” Rafe murmurs. He has this way of sounding sure of himself even when he’s speaking softly.

“You’re enjoying this date, huh?” you ask after a beat.

“So much,” Rafe says, still hushed, “that I won’t rest until you enjoy it, too.”

The thaw in your heart freezes. Something about the sureness of his words — the I won’t rest followed by steely determination, makes this feel like a competition, all over again.

Like this thing is about him winning.

You can’t let yourself enjoy this.

And so, after much deliberation, the pair of you decide on an Italian place for dinner. Except—pasta totally makes you bloated, so burger replace fetuccine alfredo. You hate burgers. Rafe suggests pad thai and curry for dinner. The cycle repeats until you’re sick of it and he isn’t; when he drops you home at 9pm, it’s with a stomach full of takeaways and a overwhelming feeling in your ribcage.

He almost kisses you on your porch steps. He almost gets another date. Almost, almost, almost… and when you’re calling Topper and Kelce to debrief them on the details, the sentence “He isn’t that bad, really,” almost slips out of your mouth and threatens to expose its success.