My mind is in shambles 😭
*REUPLOAD*
Hi Angels! I'm back! Sadly, this is in fact the last part of my story. I do have an epilogue coming later this week however. Please go see this post to vote on my next fic.
Summary: Jake Seresin is the person you hate most in the world, until he's all you have left. (idk i'm so bad at these)
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader (for a very short period of time) Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Natasha "Phoenix" Trace (again briefly. not sure how much of this I'll write), Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader (eventually)
Warnings: fighting, mentions of blood and injuries, emotional trauma.
Word Count: 3105
No one moved an inch to stop the two, both out of sheer shock and curiosity of how it was going to play out. Bradley had recovered from the punch Jake threw, blood starting to drip from his nose and hit back. Jake stumbled back in surprise before it became a full blown fight.
Fists were being thrown, your hand was over your mouth in shock. You weren’t expecting any of this. Bradley had Jake on the ground and was on top of him, getting in a few good hits to Jake’s face.
“Stop, get off him!” You called out. The sound of your voice snapped Jake back into reality, the fight was flipped and suddenly Jake was on top. His face was cold and emotionless as he punched Bradley. At this point you were so scared of what could happen, you jumped into action. You rushed to pull Jake off of Bradley and caught Jake’s elbow to your face as he pulled back for another punch.
You fell backward with an oof. This caused everyone else to snap out of their shock and trance and Coyote pulled Jake off Bradley. Bob helped you up as Fanboy grabbed Bradley. Your hand wiped at your bloody lip and you looked at Jake. Javy had let him go but his fists were still clenched. Mickey and Natasha had whisked Bradley out of the room and you sighed. Bob looked you over, you nodded at him to let him know you were okay.
Jake was shaking with rage. He wanted to kill Bradley, and he was damn close if he hadn’t been pulled off. How dare Bradley say those things about you after what he did to you. You. The fog in his brain cleared slightly. Jake turned around to find you. You were positioned so that Bob was blocking you while he checked you over.
Bob moved to the side to grab something and Jake’s face fell. He tried to recall what happened that could have given you a bloody lip. A sick feeling washed over him as he realized he had been so caught up in the moment that it was him who had hurt you. Jake’s feet moved before he realized they were moving.
A hand touched your cheek softly, a thumb brushing over your lip. You looked up at Jake. You gasped at the state of his face. There was already a bruise forming on his eye and cheek, blood was dripping out of his nose and the cut over his eyebrow looked rough. The look in Jake’s eyes was haunted.
“Jake, are you okay?” Your voice was shaky. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.” You took the hand that was on your face and pulled him to your office where you kept a first aid kit. Jake was tense and silent the whole way.
Jake sat in one of the chairs across from your desk, watching you closely. You licked your lips, tasting copper as you grabbed the kit and a bottle of water from your cabinet in the corner. Jake was inspecting his knuckles when you walked back over, they were cut and red, bruises were definitely going to form. He opened and closed his fists with a grimace as you set out the things you needed from the kit.
You stood between Jake’s legs, using the water bottle to wet some gauze, gently wiping at his hands. You inspected them, making sure nothing was broken and the cuts were superficial. His mind was racing with ways to apologize for hurting you. He felt like he was no better than Bradley at that moment.
Your hands moved to lift his chin so you could see his face. You carefully worked the gauze over his face, careful not to hurt him. Jake’s hands were on your hips, it felt like they were burning your skin. You were done cleaning his face but you didn’t want to admit it, you didn’t want him to move his hands.
“‘M sorry.” He finally spoke, meeting your eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Jake’s voice was low and raspy, one of his hands leaving your waist to grab the gauze from your hand. Jake pulled you down to sit on his lap.
You withheld a gasp as you balanced yourself on his thigh. Jake wiped at your mouth with the gauze before throwing it in the trash. You grabbed his hands and ran your fingers over his knuckles.
“It was an accident Jake.” A frown crossed your features. “But why did you start a fight with him? Do you know how much trouble you could get in? You could be kicked out of the Navy for this. And that’s if he doesn’t press charges. You could go to jail, Jake. I’m not worth all that.” You sighed, squeezing his hands. When you moved to get off his lap, he pulled you back down.
“Stop. Don’t say things like that.” Jake’s frown matched yours. “Darlin, he can't just talk to you like that. I had to defend your honor.” You giggled, putting your hand on his cheek. “I don’t know what happened, but when he said that to you I saw red. And then I hurt you, which honestly makes me no better than him.” His voice cracked.
You brought your face closer to his, making sure he was looking you in the eye. “Jake, you are so much better than he is. It was an accident. I swear I’m okay.” You reassured him, putting your forehead against his. Jake let go of your hands, putting one on your cheek and the other on your waist.
“I’m still sorry.” His thumb brushed across your lip. “You got hurt because of me.”
“Jake, stop. It’s okay.”
He slowly moved closer, his lips brushing yours. Your breath got caught in your throat and you put your hands on his chest, gripping his shirt. You felt his heart pounding under your palm, yours was beating just as fast.
“Tell me to stop. If you don’t tell me to stop right now I’m going to kiss you.” Jake breathed. Your mind was consumed with a struggle. You wanted him to kiss you, no you needed him to kiss you. But there was so much holding you back. You had broken up with Bradley only the night before, up until last night, you and Jake hated each other. Now you were confused.
It took you everything in your power to pull away from him. You closed your eyes and sucked in a breath. Running your fingers through your hair, you opened your eyes again, searching his. Jake’s gaze was burning you from the inside out. He squeezed your hip before dropping his hands.
“Jake I-” he cut you off by standing up.
“Don’t worry about it.” He sniffed, clearing his throat. Jake’s jaw was set. He wanted to kiss you, wanted to be the kind of man who deserved you. Clearly you still only saw him as the asshole who you couldn’t stand. Honestly, Jake couldn’t remember ever feeling so embarrassed,
You sat on the edge of your desk, head in your hands. You sighed and looked toward Jake. He looked upset. It felt like you could see the walls that had slowly been crumbling being built back up.
“Just let me know when you’re ready to leave. I’ll make up the guest room for you. You can stay with me for a while.” Jake started to walk out of the room.
“Wait!” You called after him, standing from your desk. He turned around, raising his eyebrows. “Shut the door please.”
“Ashamed?” Jake shut the door behind him, leaning against it and crossing his arms. You took a few cautious steps closer to him before speaking.
“No.” You chucked dryly. “Everyone has heard enough of my business. I don’t need them hearing what I’m about to say.” You rubbed your hands together, looking at the floor. It took you a couple minutes before you could speak again. Jake’s eyes remained glued to you, fighting the urge to reach out and touch you.
“I want to kiss you. Maybe too much.” You felt your cheeks burning while you spoke. A burst of courage raced through you when you made eye contact with Jake. “Pulling away from you just now was so incredibly hard. But Jake, I just broke up with Bradley less than 24 hours ago. I’m still trying to figure this all out. My life is a mess. I’m a fucking mess.” Tears were flowing freely from your eyes. “You deserve better than that. Let me figure out where I need to go from here. Give me time to heal.”
“Come here.” Jake pushed himself off the door, walking toward you. He wrapped his arms around you tightly. “Tell me when you’re ready.” You nodded against his chest, looking up at him.
“I don’t expect you to wait for me, Jake. I don’t know when I’ll be ready. I don’t want to hold you back from happiness”
“You’re worth it.” Jake placed a kiss to your temple. You squeezed your eyes closed, sighing softly. You never wanted this moment to end. Unfortunately a knock on your office door cut it short. You pulled away from Jake, straightening yourself.
You cleared your throat, calling to the visitor to come in. It left you stunned when the door opened to reveal Bradley behind the door. Jake tensed next to you. You placed a hand on his bicep to calm him down. Bradley stepped in the room cautiously.
Your eyes went wide as you took in his face. He definitely got it worse than Jake. Both his eyes were starting to bruise, more were littering his cheeks and jaw. His lips had dried blood on them and his nose definitely looked a little crooked.
“Y/N, uh can I talk to you?” Bradley stuttered nervously. Jake stepped in front of you, blocking you from Bradley’s view.
“Not a chance in hell, Rooster.” Jake clenched his fists by his side, nearly unable to stop himself from hitting Bradley again.
“I just need to apologize, Hangman. I swear that’s it.” Bradley’s voice was shaky, nearly begging. Jake started to speak again but you moved to stand in front of him, putting your hands on his chest.
“Jake, look at me.” He turned the glare directed at Bradley toward you and his face softened instantly. “Let him talk to me, it’s okay.”
Jake nodded. “Gotta get some work done anyway.” He walked out of the room, but not without bumping Bradley’s shoulder and shooting him a glare on the way out.
“Can I sit?” Bradley asked quietly. You nodded, gesturing to the chair Jake had previously occupied, sitting in the seat next to it. Bradley sat down, making sure to keep his distance. You grabbed an ice pack that you forgot to give Jake and handed it to Bradley.
“He got you pretty good.” You dryly joked as he put the ice pack up to his eye.
“I’d like to think I got a few good hits in.” He joked back. A silence sat between the two of you for a while. Bradley sighed, setting the ice pack down on his lap.
“I really messed up.” He sighed, shaking his head.
“Understatement of the century.” You muttered under your breath. A pained look crossed his features.
“I’m sorry. For hurting you. What happened, it was never supposed to be that way. I had a crush on Natasha when I first met her. I never had the balls to ask her out when you showed up. You took my breath away. I hadn’t seen her in years until we got called back to Top Gun. And when I saw her again it felt like something was unfinished. I thought what if? So we went for it.” You felt your heart breaking with every word he said.
“So you cheated on me because you thought you might be in love with my best friend. How long was this going on before I caught you?” You kept a blank look on your face and pulled your leg away from his touch.
“Since the day we got called back to Top Gun.” He whispered. “It started out just testing the waters. We didn’t start sleeping together until after you’d moved here with me.”
You scoffed. “I can’t believe this.”
“Baby, please. I still love you. I want to fix this between us.” You gave him a disgusted look, standing up and backing away from him. “Let’s work on us. I promise I’ll never hurt you like that again. What happened with Natasha is over. Love me again and I swear we can be happy. I can make you happy.” Bradley stood up, taking a step toward you. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box.
“I bought you this ring a few months back. I was going to propose when I got back from the mission but then things with Natasha started and I was confused.” Bradley got down on one knee and opened the box. You panicked, shaking your head.
“Bradley, no.” You sighed, shutting the box in his hand. “What the hell are you thinking?” A look of disappointment crossed his features as he stood, putting the box back in his pocket. “Seriously, using a proposal against me to try to get me back? That’s low Bradley.”
“I’m sorry.” Bradley sniffed, offering a smile.
“I know. But I think we both know it’s done. The damage is done. I can’t be with you anymore, Bradley. I think a piece of me will always have some love for you. But I’m not in love with you anymore. And I have to take some time for myself. I hope one day you and I can be friends.” You grabbed his hands and helped him stand. “Just give me time.”
Bradley nodded sadly, squeezing your hands. “So you and Jake huh?” You giggled, looking down at your feet. You shrugged your shoulders, redness tinted your cheeks.
“Something like that. Who knew he could be so nice?” You smiled widely at Bradley who returned your grin.
“You two together?”
“Nah. I need some time to heal first before I see where things go with him. I’m not ready to trust again.” Bradley’s smile faltered slightly at the allusion to what he had done but he quickly recovered.
“I can stay with Nat while we get the house thing figured out. It was my fault anyway. You shouldn’t have to suffer.” You shook your head.
“Jake offered to make up his guest room for me. I don’t want to make you stay somewhere else.” You furrowed your brows.
“Honestly, I don’t think I can live in the house after everything. It reminds me of you and what I did. I can’t wake up and face the remnants of you every day.” He sighed, shrugging his shoulders.
“Are you sure, Bradley? I don’t want to kick you out.” Bradley nodded.
"House is all yours. I’ll look at apartments and get my stuff out of your way.”
“Thank you.” You felt bad about it but you knew you’d need space to heal. You also wouldn't be able to decide what to do about Jake if you didn’t get out of his house. You’re already too tempted to kiss him as it is.
“Can I hug you?” He asked hopefully. You shook your head, pulling your hands away.
“I’m not ready for that step yet. The wound is too fresh and you just asked me to marry you for God's sake. We can be friendly, Bradley but I can’t be friends right now.” Bradley looked sad as he took a step away.
“Yeah I get it.” He clasped his hands in front of him, looking at you. Bradley was confused about so much right now. One thing he was sure about however, is that he was still madly in love with you. Seeing you pull away from him, watching you start to fall for Jake, that killed him. His heart was breaking more and more. You were the love of his life and his best friend, you’d been there for so long he wasn’t convinced he’d really be able to survive without you.
But he loved you so much he knew he had to let you go. Maybe one day if things were right you’d come back to him, he told himself. Bradley knew deep down that wasn’t true. It hurt too much in that moment to believe anything else, so he chose to suffer silently in his fantasy world for a while.
“I’ve gotta get some work done. But thank you for letting me talk to you. Let me take tonight to grab some of my stuff and the house is yours.” He sent you a small smile before leaving. You sat at your desk and stared at the wall for a few minutes, mind racing. Bradley was your everything for a long time. You two were best friends and lovers. Hearing his laugh would make your day, a smile from him lit up the room. Being in his arms was the safest place you could think of.
Now you wanted to keep a safe distance. You could see a future where the two of you were amicable, maybe even friends. You knew you could forgive him. Even after all this, even after the audacity of him trying to propose to you to get you back, you knew you wouldn’t be able to stay mad at him forever. You just weren’t that kind of person.
You thought about Natasha. Other than Bradley she was your best friend. You wondered why she, knowing you and Bradley loved each other, chose to do those things with him. You thought you could trust her. You wondered how the rest of the squad was taking it.
And then your mind settled on Jake. The more you thought about him, the more your heart raced and butterflies erupted in your stomach. He was a much better man than you thought. He should have turned you away the night before given your history. But maybe the incessant fighting the two of you did was something more. They say love and hate are two sides of the same coin.
Taglist
@piceous21 @tallrock35 @ellouisa17 @xoxabs88xox @bookaholics-stuff @dempy @halibshepherd @novagreen04 @popcrone818 @dreamlandcreations @enigmalynne @daisyhollyxox @abbersreads @abaker74 @igg5989 @emma8895eb @newlibrary @krismdavis
@littlewhiterose @cornishkat @smoothdogsgirl @lilylilyyyyyy @loveless-simp @sleeping-bunny-sensei @sexytholland @andiebau @zbeez-outlet @xcastawayherosx @witchybabel @katybby04 @callsign-mirage @xomrsalliej4787xo @maximoffmaxipad @secretsicanthideanymore
Me, anytime I hear A Noise™️ at night:
Smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash Smash smash smash smash smash smash Smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash Smash smash smash smash smash smash Smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash Smash smash smash smash smash smash smash Smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash Smash smash smash smash smash smash Smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash Smash smash smash smash smash smash Smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash Smash smash smash smash smash smash smash Smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash Smash smash smash smash smash smash Smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash Smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash
he’s signing your dashboard
You continue to amaze me!! This is bestie right here!
AN: Soooooooo, I have gotten carried away once again with another SMAU and I completely blame my love of HB:L by @zyafics and Abbott Elementary..... Here we are again with a new SMAU that will be starting once my other three have completed (if I post before that someone smack me)....
Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader/Past!JJ Maybank x Reader
Synopsis: 7 years ago, you and your best friend got drunk at a party and you ended up having a baby. You guys gave your relationship a shot, but he has always been in love with someone else. So, you guys remained friends after your daughter was born and you moved to the next town over. Now, there's an opening at the school all of your friends work at, and you are itching to take it. Perfect, right? Well, it would be if your classroom didn't somehow get moved next to your childhood crush and you can't tell if he is flirting with you or just really bad with technology.
Go girl!
Especially you Mama Martin!
they’re coming for all of us.
I LOVE LOVE THIS!! Protective Bradley is so heartwarming.
Prologue
Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x female!reader slow burn
TW: mentions of abusive ex (nothing specific), pining, mentions of drinking, angst
Summary: After running away from a less than ideal situation, you stumble into Bradley while working your first shift at The Hard Deck.
Word Count: 2.6k
Keep reading
Can you do some Christmas fluff with rooster? 💕
Sure! Thank you for the request <3 Hope you like it :D
Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader
Summary: You're stuck at the airport on Christmas Eve and, naturally, you meet a pilot. What's his name, again?
CW: Fluffity fluff with a smidge of angst
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, are you kidding me?” you groan in response to the latest flight delay announcement over the airport intercom. The gate is packed with equally irritable travellers whose flights have been postponed on account of the blizzard. You let out a weary sigh and plop down into the only available seat in your vicinity, which happens to be right next to some dude with a pornstache who’s wearing a Hawaiian shirt – even though your destination is Vermont – and Ray Bans – even though you’re indoors.
“What a nightmare,” you hear him mutter under his breath, his lip curling sideways underneath his bizarre facial hair. He’s got several scars running down the side of his face.
You eye him inconspicuously as he pulls a book out of his backpack, partly because he smells nice but mostly because you’ve got nothing better to do. When he leans back into his seat, his shoulder brushes against yours accidentally. He looks up at you apologetically.
“Sorry about that,” he says.
You give him a tight smile, wondering if he’s going to keep his sunglasses on while he reads. “It’s cool,” you respond. “It’s not your fault we’re all cramped in here.”
He chuckles, trying to squeeze his broad shoulders inward, but his arms still manage to extend beyond both sides of his seat. Finally, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his legs, and opens his book.
For some reason, the low rasp of his voice and the way he seems greatly unfazed by the prospect of being stuck at an airport on Christmas Eve makes you weirdly interested in striking up a conversation with him. “Is it a little bright for you?” you say cheekily, noting that he hasn’t removed his shades.
The man turns his head slowly to look at you over his shoulder. He straightens his back slightly, a small smile forming underneath his ridiculous mustache that, you hate to admit, is becoming increasingly attractive with every passing minute. He lifts his hand to tap on the frame, letting the glasses slide a touch down his nose as he squints at you, studying your face. Instead of answering your question, he poses his own: “You going somewhere special for the holidays?”
“Home,” you say. If you ever get there. “You?”
He takes off his sunglasses and hooks them into the collar of his white undershirt. “Some friends are going skiing,” he says, shrugging.
You nod, not really sure where to take the conversation next, when there’s another announcement indicating that all flights have been cancelled for the rest of the night. You close your eyes in disappointment as the rest of the terminal groans in response to the news. “Great,” you say. “Christmas Eve and Christmas morning at the damn airport.”
The man watches you sympathetically for a few moments before saying, “Yeah, bummer.” His eyes scan your face for another several seconds and then he shoves his book back into his backpack and stands up. “Come on,” he says, motioning with his head for you to follow.
You furrow your eyebrows at him suspiciously, not at all eager to accompany a strange man to an unknown destination, regardless of how good-looking he may be.
He senses your hesitation and extends his hand. “It’s not far,” he says. “Promise.”
You swallow uneasily, putting your hand in his. His warm fingers curl around yours and he gently pulls you out of your seat. He doesn’t let go of your hand once you’re up, holding onto you instead while he navigates the crowd of angry passengers at the gate. He draws you out of the horde and down one of the largely empty corridors of the airport. “Where are we going?” you ask cautiously.
“Here,” he says, turning a corner into a dimly lit room with large windows exposing the flurrying snow outside.
“Wow,” you breathe, taking a step forward when he finally lets go of your hand. You walk toward the window spanning the entire wall from the floor up, watching the storm blanket the terminal, snowing in several parked planes.
Mustache walks up behind you. “It’s the observation deck,” he says, looking out onto the apron with a smile.
You glance up at him, admiring the shape of his jaw, and his neck, and his broad shoulders, and his mustache, goddamnit, and wonder if he’ll ever tell you his name because, at this point, it feels awkward to ask. You grin to yourself and then sit right down onto the carpeted floor, crossing your legs. “In that case,” you say. “Let’s observe.”
The man chuckles lightly and takes a seat next to you on the floor. He unzips his backpack and pulls out a bag of chips. “Salt and vinegar?” he offers, ripping the bag open and holding it out to you.
You laugh. “This is dinner, isn’t it?”
“This,” he says, and then pulls out a box of Ritz crackers. “And this.”
“Yes!” you exclaim, grabbing the box out of his hands.
“And, for dessert…” he adds, digging his hand back into the bag and pulling out another box.
Your jaw drops in your excitement. “Oreos!”
He nods. “I’ve got a lot of Oreos,” he says, pulling out several packages of the cookies.
“Amazing!” you say. “I hit the jackpot sitting next to you, didn’t I?”
He grins, his teeth grazing over his lip as he curls it in. “I was thinking the same thing about you,” he says.
You glance up to meet his gaze, blushing slightly.
He reaches out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You’re really fucking pretty,” he says.
You smile at him, deciding that being stuck in an airport on Christmas Eve isn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.
You spend the next couple of hours eating and chatting. You find out that he’s a pilot in the Navy, that his father died when he was just a boy, and that his mother passed away when he was a teenager. He tells you about Top Gun, about his squad, about how he’s indifferent when it comes to Christmas because he doesn’t really have anybody to spend it with. He even tells you what his favorite food is. What he doesn’t tell you is his name. And he doesn’t ask for yours.
You don’t bother either; what the point? After tonight, you’ll never see him again, so there’s no sense in getting attached. It wouldn’t be the first time you spent the night with a stranger without so much as exchanging numbers. Unfortunately, besides being exceptionally cute, the guy is actually boyfriend material. He’s genuine, and funny, and considerate, and you’re finding him especially easy to talk to. Perhaps it’s because both of you know that, by this time tomorrow, the stranger you’ve shared all your secrets with will be out of your life for good.
This is great. This is therapeutic. This sort of transient camaraderie is what travelling is all about. You don’t build lasting relationships with random people you meet at the bus stop, or at a train station. Why should an airport be any different?
There’s a chiming in the distance and you look down at your phone. Midnight.
“Merry Christmas,” he says.
You look up at him with a small smile. “Hopefully Santa knows where to find us.”
He chuckles while you rub your hands together. “Cold?” he asks, pulling a blanket out of his backpack.
“Is there anything you don’t have in there?” you ask.
He shrugs. “I like to be prepared.” He hands you the blanket.
You unfold it and move closer to him, trying to wrap it around both your shoulders and his.
“Here,” he says, shifting to lean his back against one of the seats and spreading his feet so you could sit between his legs.
You stand up to walk around him, and then lower yourself in front of his body. His hands are on your legs the moment your knees bend, helping you down. His touch sends a shockwave through you, and you glance back to see him looking up at you lustfully. You gulp as you sit down, his hands sliding slowly up the sides of your thighs. You lick your lips, sliding backward until you feel your hips align with his, and then you slowly lean your back against his chest and pull the blanket over both of you. His arms close around yours under the fleece and he lets out a sigh. You rest your head on his shoulder and he lowers his face to press his cheek against your hair.
“This is nice,” you mutter, already warming up as his large hand closes around your arm. His thumb begins to brush your skin as he makes a soft humming sound in agreement.
…
You wake up to the hot sun radiating through the giant windows of the room. You’re lying on the ground with the man you met last night beside you under the twisted blanket, his extremely heavy arm crushing your shoulder. You don’t mind it, though; his sculpted arms kept you warm all night.
You rotate onto your back and he stirs, lifting his hand to rest it over your abdomen as he nuzzles his face against the side of your head.
“Good morning,” he whispers, his fingers gently stroking your stomach.
You smile at the ceiling, your eyes still adjusting to the brightness of the room. “Merry Christmas,” you say.
He sighs and his hot breath bathes your neck. “It is,” he murmurs, his hand tangling in the blanket as he grips your waist to pull you closer.
You shut your eyes, enjoying the very best Christmas present you’ve ever received. But, just when you’re about to turn your head and finally give your companion a kiss, a loud beep followed by an announcement indicating that flights have resumed interrupts the moment.
You exhale slowly, not bothering to conceal your disappointment, and Mustache chuckles into your ear, tickling the side of your face. “I wonder if Santa found us,” he says quietly.
You glance over at his mischievous smirk and sit up. There’s a Christmas tree in the corner of the room that you hadn’t noticed the previous night because it was too dark. Under the tree, there are an assortment of snacks – including more Oreos – that he must’ve gotten from the vending machine overnight. You giggle as you make your way toward it. There’s also a small package of travel socks, a neck pillow, and an airplane keychain. You pick it up, observing that the plane doesn’t resemble any commercial airline.
“It’s a Rhino,” he says, and you look up at him in confusion.
“It’s an airplane,” you respond with a smile, dangling the ring from your index finger.
He chuckles. “F-18,” he clarifies. “It’s the jet I fly.”
“They sell these here?” you ask, although you already know the answer.
He shakes his head and then shrugs. “Just something to remember me by,” he says, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pants.
You blink at him without responding, thinking that his name might also help. But you’ve already decided that it’s best not to know. “Thanks,” you say finally, closing your hand around the tiny plane. “I, uh, didn’t get you anything.”
He grins. “Yes, you did,” he says. “You gave me the best Christmas Eve and morning I’ve had in a very long time.”
You smile back at him. “We should do it again some time.”
He chuckles but his face falls slightly, as though he’s not optimistic about the likelihood of an encore. “Same time next year?”
You hold his gaze for a moment before the intercom blares, declaring that you have ten minutes to get to your plane. You gather the snacks, dispersing them between your carry-on bag and his, and make your way back to the gate.
The attendant calls on the back rows to start boarding and you give Mustache one last look. He squeezes your hand, and you don’t want him to let go, but he does anyway.
“I bet you have a really pretty name,” he says. It must have occurred to him also that there would be no point in knowing it.
“Have a safe flight,” you say.
He nods. “You too.”
Your mouth is taut when you give him a final smile and turn away, but before you make it past the checkpoint, you turn back to look at him again. He waves at you but you step out of the line anyway, going against the stream of bodies desperate to get onto the aircraft. He gives you a questioning look when you arrive before him. “Uh,” you start, unsure how to express what you mean to say. “Not just this flight.”
“What?” he asks.
“You’re a pilot,” you clarify. He narrows his eyes. “So, I just wanted to say, may all your flights be safe.”
He watches you solemnly as you chew on your lip. Then, you throw your hands around his neck just as he wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you off the ground in a passionate embrace. He kisses your neck as you sink your head into his shoulder. When he puts you down, his mouth is still trailing up the side of your face, leaving in its wake a string of delicate kisses. He brings his hands up to take you by the shoulders, resting his forehead on yours. “Hi,” he says. “I’m Bradley. It’s nice to meet you.”
You smile, watching the lower half of his face transform when you respond. “Hi, Bradley. I’m Y/N.”
“Y/N,” he whispers, his lips hovering over yours. “I knew you had a pretty name.”
You chuckle briefly, but then his hand starts gliding along your shoulder and up your neck and, suddenly, you’re not in a laughing mood. “How long are you going to be in Vermont?” you ask, closing your eyes.
“How long are you going to be in Vermont?” he responds.
You smile as his mouth connects with yours, as his fingers trace swirls into your cheek, as his tongue drifts along your bottom lip before he catches it gently between his teeth.
“You taste like Oreos and Coke,” he murmurs.
“That’s what you gave me for breakfast,” you respond against his lips.
“I’ll have to do better next time.”
You look up at him after pulling away. “I thought it was perfect.”
He nods, his eyes perusing your face as his hand slips down to grasp yours. “What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks.
You grin. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
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22 she/herAt the touch of love everyone becomes a poetRead All About It
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