wildxwidow

[wildxwidow]

Drive Me Crazy - Chapter 9.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 2056

Warnings A little bit of strong language and a little bit of angst.

Huge thank you to the Anon who sent this in! They had such amazing words to say about my writing which I massively appreciate and then to top it off, had an incredible request for me! I only have experience with mechanics in the UK, so I’ve tried my best with this one! “I just recently got interested in Travis K. X reader stories and wanted to let you know, I read all of yours as quickly as I could. They are so well done and I couldn’t help but laugh/giggle and feel through each word you typed out. You’re doing amazing and I’m so glad to have stumbled onto your page. If you have any space for a request, I’d be curious about what Trav would think about having a military (like fighter pilot) or engineer or mechanic girlfriend. I see a lot of stories with him paired with models/singers/social media individuals (which are phenomenal!) but just wondering how he would be with a more tomboy like girlfriend!”

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

Your feet pounded the damp pavement, the earthy scent of rainfall thick in the air. You weren't 100% sure what you were going to say when you saw Travis, or even why you were heading to his place, but you figured the walk would help set your thoughts straight.

You pressed the heel of your palm to your forehead, closing your eyes for a second as you waited at the crosswalk, letting the traffic sounds of the street fade into the back of your mind. You had only known Travis for a couple of weeks, a handful of dates summarising what was still a very early relationship. If it could even be classed as a relationship.

He was charming, he was kind and gave you all of the attention that you could ever want.

But your lives were completely different.

Travis would spend his days giving interviews, recording his popular podcast and managing his successful and varied career and would spend his evenings in bars and clubs, being photographed rubbing shoulders with other well-known and high profile celebrities in designer outfits. You spent your days in overalls fixing cars and your evenings trying to clean the motor oil from your hair.

As the rain began to fall heavier, you pulled your sweatshirt hood over your head, pulling the edges of the fabric hard and clinging to them as if it was only thing holding you together. You checked the street signs ahead of you and continued in your way, staring down at the pavement to avoid to heavy raindrops that were falling hard from the gray sky above you.

The streets became quieter and the houses began to look bigger and more expensive. Travis' neighbourhood was quaint and humble, but still impressive, the sidewalks edged with a neat line of trees. You pulled your phone from your sweatshirt pocket, checking the address again and trying to focus on the house numbers as the raindrops built up onto the top of your cheeks.

You squinted further up the road to a house slightly set back from the sidewalk, large with brown roof tiles and a wide road that led to a double doored entrance. Nervously, you fidgeted with your fingers as you approached the house. You noticed a few vehicles scattered around the driveway and a well kept garden that looped around the property. Your wet hands rubbed against your soaked sweatshirt as you tentatively approached the door, your eyes fixated on the frosted glass panels. As your feet reached the top of the handful of stone steps, your heart instantly began beating faster and faster. Quickly clearing your throat, your shaking hands knocked firmly on the door and your chest swelled as you took a slow and deep breath.

Footsteps grew louder on the other side of the door and before you had chance to change your mind and turn away, the door opened and a blonde woman sporting glasses and a tight, black dress stared blankly at you. Your eyes darted to the house number that was displayed on the wall next to you and then towards your phone screen, confirming that you were at the correct house.

"Uhhh...sorry. I thought this...I mean-I'm sorry." You mumbled as you began to turn around, your chest filling with embarrassment. Of course he was seeing someone else.

"Y/N?" A voice called out.

You glanced around over your shoulder to see Travis making his way through a small gathering of people towards the doorway.

You smiled meekly, making uncomfortable eye contact with the group, "Travis? Sorry...I-"

"What are you doing here?"

You exhaled an awkward laugh and shook your head, "I don't really know."

His eyebrows lowered as he reached for your hands, "Is everything okay?"

You watched as his thumbs ran over the damp skin on back of your oil marked hands before looking up to see the pristine and glamourous blonde woman leaning on the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest. You opened your mouth to speak but Travis ushered you away from the house.

"I'm filming a piece for Jason's documentary." He nodded towards the house and your eyes followed to see the crew of people looking in your direction. Lights and cameras were scattered around the room and a man appeared in the doorway holding a clipboard.

Your hands flew to your face, your wet hair plastered over your forehead, "I'm so stupid. You're so right, what am I doing here?"

Travis' lips curled downwards, his expression confused and mystified, before he smiled and pulled you closer to him, "It's fine, just come in. I'll get you some dry clothes and we can hang as soon as it's finished?"

"No, this is ridiculous." You shook your head and stepped away from Travis' grasp, "Thank you Travis, but I am so stupid."

He reached out for you again, "Why do you keep saying that? It's not a big deal?"

You retreated from him, stepping carefully down the remaining steps as you avoided eye contact with Travis, "I am so sorry I bothered you, Travis."

You pulled your sweatshirt hood tighter around your head, muffling whatever Travis called out to you and power walked away from the house, a mixture of raindrops and tears staining your cheeks.

______________________________________________________________

"Ahh...fuck!" You winced, sucking the air into your mouth through your teeth. Looking at your red fingertip, you noticed a small purple welt beginning to form thanks to the bolt that slipped from your grip.

You rolled your eyes, gripping your injured digit before leaning down back under the hood of the classic white Camaro that you were currently working on. It had been a week since you had seen Travis and in an attempt to forget about the situation, you had thrown yourself into your work, spending every hour you could at the garage.

As you brought your finger to your mouth to stem the blood that had started to emerge, you felt the car dip as someone rested their weight against the door.

"You need a break."

You tipped your head to see your Dad using a cloth to clean some oil from a large wrench. Bowing your head back down, you wiped your finger on your overalls and continued working, "No, I need to finish this turbo."

"I could take a look at it, if you want?" His voice was thick with concern.

Gripping the bolt again, you grimaced as the pressure caused a sharp pain to rush to your small injury, "I'm perfectly capable of doing it by myself."

Your Dad chuckled at your independence, a trait he had always admired, "I didn't say you weren't."

You stayed silent, aside from a short sigh when you had eventually managed to tighten the bolt adequately.

"Has he contacted you?"

"Dad-"

"No, Sport. Here me out."

You emerged from the hood, dropping it closed and walking to the open drivers side door as your Dad followed you around the vehicle.

"Has he contacted you?"

"Yes, he has. Every day this week, not that it matters." You said as you started the car, hearing the gentle purr of the engine.

"Okay." Your Dad pursed his lips and nodded his head slowly, "Look, I've never been the type of Father to tell you what to do, and I'm not about to start now. But I do think you're letting something really good go." He turned to walk away before stopping himself, "And I'm not just saying that because it's Travis Kelce."

You smiled and watched through the car windshield window as he strolled back into the garage office, his high pitched whistle fading from your ears.

______________________________________________________________

It was late and the garage was silent, aside from the occasional car passing by on the street. You dumped a handful of dirty rags into the hamper next to the office door and reached for the light switch, immersing the room into darkness.

You used the small amount of light beaming in from the office window to guide yourself to the large gray roller door that filled the wall. Turning the small metal key in the lock, you watched as the door began to descend. It had almost fully closed when you heard the sound of a car engine over the sound of the door motor. Beams of light peeped from underneath the bottom of door, brightness spilling out onto the smooth concrete floor.

You rolled your eyes and turned the key in the opposite direction, squinting and shielding your eyes from the gleam of the headlamps, "I'm sorry, buddy. We're closed...we actually closed a few hours ago."

A large figure stepped out of the vehicle but you struggled to identify it.

"Dude, did you not hear me?"

"Oh, I heard you." A familiar voice echoed in your ears, "But I ain't here for a service."

"Travis?"

As he stepped closer to you, the lights illuminated his face which was uncharacteristically covered in black smears. His usually pristine denim jeans were ripped in several places and a clear oily handprint was slapped across the right thigh. Your eyes drifted upwards to see his white t-shirt coated in stains of varying shapes, colours and sizes. He grinned at you, picking up a rag from the floor that you had missed and throwing it over his shoulder.

"Need some help?"

You narrowed your eyes, a small smirk growing on your face, "From you?

Travis looked around the room and shrugged his shoulders, glancing at the numerous cars and tools, "I could learn?"

"Travis, what are you-"

Before you had chance to finish your sentence, he stepped forward quickly and kissed you, his arms snaking around your waist. You melted into his hold, allowing his soft lips to move across yours and your hands to float up to the sides of his face. His thick stubble prickled against your fingertips, the intoxicating scent of his cologne enveloping you just as it did the first time.

He pulled away from you slowly, studying your expression, "Sorry, I just had to do that."

Your eyes drifted to the floor before closing shut whilst you took a deep breath. You focused in on the butterflies that were dancing in your stomach, trying to find the words that you wanted to say.

"You didn't reply to any of my messages."

His eyes were full of hurt and confusion and you suddenly felt a pang of guilt fill your chest, "I know. I needed to think."

One of Travis' hands ran up your side to cup your cheek, "About what? About us?"

"Yeah." You sighed, "I just don't know if we fit right. Although, I must say, you'd fit in here looking like that."

His eyes glinted, "You see? If I can fit in your world, you can certainly fit in mine."

You looked up, "I don't know if I can do it. The photographers, the online comments, I like my privacy, Travis."

"What online comments?"

"I saw something on Instagram, there was a photo of us and people...people had a lot to say about our relationship...or whatever it is." Tears began to pool against your lower lashes.

Travis held onto you tighter, "You shouldn't read that shit. I sure as hell don't! People are assholes, baby."

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against Travis' warm chest.

He continued, his large hand stroking the back of your head, "And if you want privacy, we can do that. You have the right to live your life however you want to, but I want you in mine."

Your heart jumped, a sudden overwhelm of emotion flooding you. You lifted up your head and breathed a laugh as a couple of tears ran down your cheeks, "I want you in my life too."

Travis' eyes creased into nothing, his smile as wide as it could possibly be, "So, that's settled then? Now, which of these car's needs my expertise?"

You threw your head back as you howled with laughter, throwing your arms around his neck and allowing him to take your weight. Your feet lifted from the ground and your lips crashed against his, this time a much deeper and passionate kiss, his fingers sinking into your flesh as if he never wanted to let go. Without breaking contact, you reached across and turned the key, shutting out the outside world.

______________________________________________________________

And it's done! This one has been my Everest! But thank you to everyone for their encouraging words and positivity! I hope this final chapter lives up to expectation!

I'll be scouring through my requests now and looking at doing some one-shots in the next few weeks to hopefully clear the list that has built up! I'll put a post out when my requests are open again!

If you want to be included in my Taglist, let me know and you'll never miss another fic from me (although don't be alarmed if there's a bit of a wait, that's my new style now apparently!)

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#series fic rec #travis kelce

[wildxwidow]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 6 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley asks you for your number, you can't believe he wants to spend his phone call on you. Even though you're nervous about asking, you realize you need answers to some of your questions. The promise of getting to hear your voice is enough to get Bradley through the week, but is he going to be enough for you?

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley being sexy

Length: 4300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

When you woke up for work and checked your phone, there was a new email waiting for you from Bradley, and you couldn't decide what to do about it. As soon as you'd hit send on that selfie of you in bed, you felt like an idiot. Was he expecting something more than a random picture of you after you'd removed your makeup for the day? Was he going to eventually give up responding at all when he realized that one date with you was ultimately just a waste of his time on his stop back in San Diego?

But he had written back yet again, and you were nervous to see what he had on his mind. You dropped your phone into your purse, making a deal with yourself: you could read his response once you were at work. That would give you enough time to process your thoughts on the matter. You were being silly for wanting more and expecting more with every interaction. This man owed you nothing. You were probably in over your head with the mutual daydreaming and flirtation.

What were you going to do when it was easy for him to say that talking to you had been fun, but he needed to get back to his real life? What were you going to do when you weren't able to do the same?

Once you were settled at your desk looking at your Natural History notes in those last few minutes of solitude before your eighteen students arrived for the day, you let yourself indulge in Bradley's words. 

Hey, Gorgeous,

You're the only woman I'm going to let email me regularly. And I was right. You do look adorable snuggled up in your bed. That photo is going to keep me up at night wondering how cute you'd look in mine...

It looks like I'll have the opportunity to make a phone call soon, and I'd love to hear your voice. If you want to talk. I can't guarantee I won't sound like an idiot, tripping over my words the whole time, but hey, a guy can dream. Will you let me have your phone number?

Yours Truly,

Bradley

"Oh my god." You forced yourself to read it slower the second time around. He was thinking about you in his bed! He wanted your phone number! "What are you doing to me?" you groaned. 

He wanted to call you. This man wanted to use his phone call allowance on you. He wanted to let you hear his deep, raspy voice over the phone while he spoke sentences that were tailor made for you. He expected you to be able to respond to him in real time? You were embarrassed to admit that it often took you hours or days to figure out how to reply to one of his emails after he set the butterflies off in your belly.

You did not know what you should do here, but you knew exactly what you were going to do. It was going to be impossible to pull yourself back out of this mess when the time came.

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

Before Bradley got a response to his email asking for your phone number, he got a box from your class. He could certainly get used to waiting in line when the mail arrived to find himself smiling with satisfaction instead of feeling disappointment. When he got back to his bunk and opened it, he rooted through all of the drawings of F/A-18s in search of the note from you. He smiled at the more businesslike greeting, knowing how many personal topics you and he had covered through email.

Dear Lt Bradshaw,

It seems as though we can't get enough of you. We're back, hoping for a little more of your time. Here's a batch of drawings for you to judge in any manner you see fit, but please be kind... I drew one of them. 

Whether it's a handwritten note or an email, I'm looking forward to hearing from you soon. 

Just looking at your tidy penmanship had Bradley antsy to check his email again. He had put himself out there as far as he could at the moment when he asked you for your phone number, but now he was nervous as hell. What was he supposed to do if you told him no? He'd already planned out not only a first date but a second date as well. He could wait you out. Unless you outright shut him down, he would take his time, making sure you were comfortable. 

Upon inspection of the Super Hornet drawings, it was easy enough to determine which one was yours. It was clearly crafted with a steadier hand than the others, and even the block printing on the side of the aircraft where you'd written 'BRADLEY ROOSTER BRADSHAW' looked like your penmanship. He looked through the other ones, quickly making the assumption that the one with flames and dragon scales had been drawn by Oliver. The one with purple outlining was most likely from Violet. Something was telling him the one with a dog piloting the jet was drawn by Jayden.

He smiled at how connected to these kids he felt, but ultimately he tossed everything back into the box and started heading for the lounge. If you had responded to him with your phone number, he could get himself on the call schedule. His heart was racing, and his skin felt too warm as he logged into his email account. He had three new messages.

"Come on," he groaned when he was met with two names above yours in his inbox. Nat and Vanessa. He almost forgot about the fucking water bottle. 

He tapped on the email from his best friend first. 

Rooster, I need you to make better choices regarding your girlfriends, okay? I took care of it, but it wasn't pretty. Her pink monstrosity of a water bottle was in your kitchen cabinet, and then she tried to have a conversation with me. Sorry, but I called her a flaming bitch who never appreciated my best friend and said she needed to leave your house before I made her. Everything is locked up tight again to keep the rats out. When you get home, there's a new restaurant you can treat me to on Rendova Road. -Nat

He smiled as he tapped on the email from Vanessa which was exactly one sentence long.

I got my water bottle from your house.

"God bless Natasha Trace," he muttered, deleting Vanessa's email. Then he went ahead and deleted every email he had ever received from her. He shouldn't have been surprised that you and he had already exchanged more emails than he ever had with a woman he'd dated for several months. It didn't take long before they were all gone, and then he was left with the newest one you'd sent to him last night sitting at the top of his inbox. 

"Here we go," he whispered, wiping his palm nervously on his pants before opening up your message to see what you had to say in response to his bold request for your phone number.

Bradley,

I read your last email an embarrassing number of times, trying to be sure I understood it properly. You want to use your phone call allotment on ME? And you were thinking about ME snuggled up in your bed? There's no possible way you could sound like an idiot. Not with that voice that I think about when I'm trying to fall asleep at night. 

You know what, I don't even care if I misinterpreted something. Of course I'll let you have my phone number. Of course I'll let you call me.

Your giddy pen pal

Right there below your parting words was your full phone number complete with San Diego area code. Bradley smiled as he grabbed a pen and a piece of paper from the shelves behind him and wrote it down. He double and triple checked that he had it correct, knowing his next mission would be to get approved for a specific time slot and hope it wasn't going to be at a horrible time of day for you in California. Then he wrote back to your email.

Gorgeous,

You shouldn't sound so surprised. This thing we've got going on isn't open to interpretation on my end. I told you I have a thing for you. I believed you when you said you were interested in getting to know me. There's nobody else I'd rather spend my twenty minute phone call on than you. In fact, you're the only one. 

I already memorized your number. I'll email you back when I know which day I can call you and at what time. I can't wait to hear your voice saying my name.

Yours Truly,

Bradley

He logged out and did some quick math to take into account the difference between time zones, and then he was all smiles as he signed up for the opportunity to finally talk to you in real time.

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

You read his email again as the hours slowly ticked away on Saturday afternoon. Your friends were asking why you kept checking your phone while you were out to dinner. Well, they would be doing the same thing if Bradley Bradshaw was in their email inboxes sounding sweeter than any man had the right to.

Hey, Gorgeous,

How does 10:00 on Saturday night sound to you? I know it's a little late, but I didn't want to potentially interfere with your work week. And I don't know if I can wait until next week anyway. I'm feeling greedy right now when it comes to you. I can't wait to make a fool of myself on the phone.

Yours Truly,

Bradley

When you let him know in the calmest fashion you could muster that Saturday night was just fine for a phone call, he wrote back one additional sentence.

Talk to you then, Gorgeous Girl.

You received that email on Friday morning, and in an effort to seem less desperate for this man than you were, you didn't write back. It was better to let his anticipation grow to match your own. But once you'd parted ways with your friends and headed home for the night, your nerves settled in. You were going to have to ask Bradley where he lived, and that would be that. You'd know all the facts soon enough, and that would pretty much become the determining factor on how long the two of you could really keep this up.

It was almost time. You made sure your phone was fully charged, and you had your ringtone volume turned way up. Barring some sort of disaster, your phone should be ringing in exactly fifteen minutes. 

"Chill out," you whispered as you walked a few laps around your apartment in your favorite underwear and an oversized sweatshirt. At 9:56 you paused in your bedroom doorway, convinced Bradley wasn't even going to call. And at 10:02, you sat on the edge of your bed with your phone in your hand, wondering how you managed to get yourself in this deep.

He was in the Navy. Things ran on precision. It was 10:04, and your phone was sitting there on your palm like a dead brick. "It's okay," you told yourself. "Maybe he'll still call." For a few minutes, you thought that being hopeful was the way to go. Perhaps he dialed the wrong number the first time and was just regrouping. Or perhaps not.

At 10:11, you set your phone on your nightstand and walked out into your living room without it. That was when you realized that the lighter-than-air tingling sensation you'd been enjoying all day was gone, replaced with something uncomfortable.

"Don't even think about crying," you whispered as you pulled the hem of your sweatshirt a little further down your legs. You'd normally be drinking a cup of tea and getting settled in to try to go to sleep. A few months ago, you might have even been scrolling through a dating app right now. But you didn't want to do either of those things when you'd essentially been promised something as exciting as Bradley Bradshaw's voice for twenty minutes straight. "Fuck."

Just as you dragged your toe along the kitchen tile, trying to decide what to do now, you heard your ringtone. The clock on your microwave told you it was 10:16 as you turned and ran for your bedroom. Your fingers were shaking as you snatched up your phone and read RESTRICTED CALLER on the screen. You weren't sure what you'd been expecting, but it had to be him.

You took a deep breath and sank down onto the floor with your back against the side of your bed, and without any further hesitation, you answered the call as your heart hammered hard in your chest.

"Bradley?"

There was just a short pause, and it sounded like he was smiling when he said, "Hey, Gorgeous." 

The lighter-than-air tingling sensation was back as soon as you heard him say two whole words, and you slid slowly down until you were laying on your back on the floor like a boneless mess. "Hi," you sighed, pressing your free hand to your belly to try to calm the butterflies.

You heard him clear his throat softly before he said, "I'm really sorry I'm late calling you. I've been waiting for this all damn weekend." There was an edge to his voice that gave you goosebumps on your legs, and you smiled before you immediately frowned.

"Does this mean we only have four minutes to talk instead of twenty?" you asked him.

"No, I made sure of that," he replied in his deep rasp. "I even got a little bitchy with the guy before me who wouldn't end his call on time. I told him the most gorgeous teacher from Mira Mesa Elementary was waiting for me to call and that I'd be lucky if she still wanted to talk to me now."

You couldn't help but laugh as the tingling sensation made its way to your fingers and toes. "You didn't tell him that!"

"I swear I did," he insisted, his voice on the verge of laughter. "He sends his apologies." He cleared his throat once more before he asked, "Any chance you could say my name again?"

You thought you detected some nervous energy in his voice which was somehow the most flattering thing you'd ever encountered. You closed your eyes and licked your lips, picturing his handsome face as you said, "Bradley."

Now his voice was as breathless as you knew yours was. "Yeah. I really like the way that sounds."

"Bradley," you repeated with a laugh as you rolled up into a little ball on your side with your phone held to your ear.

"Hey, if you want to just say my name for the next eighteen minutes, I'm not going to complain. I was dying to hear your voice, and now I just want more of it."

You had to press your lips together to keep from making an embarrassing sound, but you did manage to say, "Yeah, that's not really going to work for me, Lieutenant Bradshaw. I'm going to need some back and forth, especially with how much I like your voice. And your face."

He groaned softly, and now you really did make an embarrassing noise before you could clap your free hand over your mouth. "My face is nothing special, Gorgeous," he said. "Yours on the other hand... that's the kind of thing that could get a guy through a long deployment."

You whimpered, and you were sure he could hear it. But you weren't even as embarrassed as you were needy for more. You wanted to know everything about him, and twenty minutes wasn't going to be enough to satisfy you when it came to Bradley. "Let's just say you've had my full attention for months now. And the photos you sent are enough to get a girl through a long school year. Will you tell me how you got your scars?" you asked him. It was something you'd been curious about since the first photo he sent where you could see his face. The one of him standing tall and sexy in front of his jet.

"Oh, hell," he laughed, his voice taking on a self deprecating tone. "I knew I shouldn't have sent that sunset selfie. I was kind of hoping you wouldn't be able to see them in the photos or the video. I have a lot."

You scrambled to your knees and then your feet. The last thing you'd meant to do was make him feel badly about himself. "They just make you look hotter," you blurted out. "I've thought about kissing them."

"Shit," he grunted. "Baby, I'll tell you anything you want to know. My social security number? My bank account information?" You laughed and had to bite down on your knuckle as he said, "I got my scars when I was a sophomore at the University of Virginia. Just typical nineteen year old guy bullshit. I was riding my bike back from a party late, and I skipped the curb. Just a lot of stitches."

"Oh," you gasped.

"It's okay," he said quickly. "More superficial than anything. I didn't even miss any of my classes. This is just why I don't usually send selfies like that. But you're already an exception, aren't you?"

He was so sweet, you were afraid the butterflies would never stop. But now you were picturing him going back to a beautiful house in Virginia, and it just made you sad. You paced the length of your room as you said, "I'd still really like to see your face in person."

"That's a done deal, Gorgeous."

You bit your lip, already knowing how you were going to react, but you just needed to have all the facts. "I know we could probably meet for a date or two while you're on leave in San Diego, but what happens after that?"

There was a brief pause before he asked, "What do you mean?"

You tipped your head back and looked at your ceiling as you finally said, "I don't even know where you live or where you're stationed. All I know is that if you're returning to Virginia or somewhere else far away... I'm going to have to brace myself for it."

But when you heard his next sentence, you let yourself drop down onto your bed with a smile on your face. "Gorgeous Girl, I live in San Diego."

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

This was going well. Bradley's whole body was thrumming with anticipation, and your voice was already embedded in his mind. As soon as you mentioned just the thought of your lips on his scarred cheek, he had to stand up for a minute. And when you brought up meeting him when his deployment ended, he was afraid his heart rate might never return to normal.

"I'd still really like to see your face in person," you told him, and all he could think about was Thai food on the beach and kissing your lips.

"That's a done deal, Gorgeous," he replied, satisfied in knowing for sure that it was going to happen now, but your follow up question left him confused.

"I know we could probably meet for a date or two while you're on leave in San Diego, but what happens after that?"

After that? He sat back down in his seat and thought about what would happen after a date or two. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep his hands and lips off you, but somehow he didn't think that's what you were talking about. "What do you mean?"

Your voice took on a softer, maybe sadder quality as you told him,  "I don't even know where you live or where you're stationed. All I know is that if you're returning to Virginia or somewhere else far away... I'm going to have to brace myself for it."

He froze. He hadn't told you where he lived? Had he really never mentioned it once in all the times he wrote out the address to your school in Mira Mesa? His heart was beating erratically now as he pieced together the fact that he was making all of these plans while you were trying to protect yourself, but you kept emailing him and sending him letters anyway. You were showing that you had genuine interest in him while afraid he was going to leave you high and dry after one date? Hell no. Oh, he was falling hard.

"Gorgeous Girl, I live in San Diego." 

Your little surprised gasp had him holding his breath. "You do?" you whispered. 

"I do," he promised. "Shit, I can't believe I never mentioned it. My house is in Coronado, near the beach in the photo you sent me where you look more flawless than the sunset. I'm so sorry I got so carried away with our emails that I never put it together that you didn't know I'm stationed out of North Island."

You were quiet for a beat, and he wanted to crawl through the phone and reassure you that he had never meant to stress you out. "You live in Coronado?" you asked.

"Yeah, Gorgeous. About thirty minutes away from your school. I mean, there's always traffic, so maybe forty minutes," he told you nervously. "I hope that's not too far for you to deal with?"

"That's nothing, Bradley," you said with a sigh. "That's... absolutely not too far. I thought you potentially lived thousands of miles away, and I was trying to figure out what to do about my feelings. I was so scared to ask you sooner."

Vanessa wouldn't even drive the extra ten minutes to the restaurant he liked, meanwhile you were putting yourself out there for him. He cleared his throat and said, "I already have our first date planned out."

"Tell me. In an abundance of detail."

Bradley's skin tingled with desire as he divulged his daydreams. "I'll drive up and pick you up at your place. You already gave me permission to hold your hand, so that's happening on the ride back to the beach. There's a good Thai place not too far from the bay bridge where we'll stop to pick up dinner. Then when we get to the beach, you'll be surprised and charmed that I packed blankets and a cooler full of beer and a bottle of prosecco. And we can sit on the beach, talking and eating while the sun sets, unless you'd rather sit in the back of my vintage Bronco. And then, when the sky is just starting to turn purple, I'm going to kiss you."

The beat of silence was satisfying before you asked, "You're going to wait until after dinner to do that?" He could practically hear your pout which made him get to his feet again. He only had five more minutes with you right now, and he was going to have to make this count.

"You want me to kiss you before that?" he asked, his fingers wrapping around the edge of the counter as your soft laughter met his ears.

"I want you to kiss me as soon as you see me."

"Fuck," he panted. "Then consider that a done deal too, Gorgeous."

"Oh, I like that."

"Yeah?" he asked, watching time slip through his fingers. "You feel more confident now that you know where I live?"

"Yes," you replied softly.

"Good." He closed his eyes as he said, "We only have a little more time right now, Baby. Anything else you want from me?"

You squeaked softly. "Will you email me a gym selfie or two? With a nice closeup of your face?"

He couldn't get over you and the way you made him feel. "Yeah. I'll hit the gym tomorrow for you."

You hummed softly, and he sat down in his chair again, raking his fingers through his hair. God, he felt like a mixed up mess over you after this conversation. Your voice was so fucking sweet as you asked him, "Anything you want from me?"

His plentiful thoughts ranged the full spectrum from innocent to decidedly not as he tugged on his hair and tried to keep himself in check. "Yeah, actually," he said, gravel filling his voice. "You know that inactive dating profile you mentioned before?"

"Yes."

"You should delete the app. There's nothing I know about you that I don't like, and I feel like that trend is going to continue. If you feel the same way, then you don't need the app, Gorgeous."

After a brief pause, your beautiful voice told him, "Okay, Bradley. I'll delete it."

"Fucking aces," he said with a smile. "Where are you right now?"

You laughed softly as he realized he had less than a minute left on this call. "Curled up in my bed with the biggest smile on my face."

"Send me a selfie?"

"Consider it done, Lieutenant. It'll be there when you check your email next."

He leaned back in his chair. There was still so much he wanted to tell you and ask about, but it would have to wait. "Listen, I need to go. But I'm going to work on writing back to your class this week. And I'll get the selfies for you, too. I'll see you in our inboxes?"

That soft laughter was right there again, and he felt like his skin was on fire as you said, "I'll take you any way I can get you, Bradley."

You could have him as many ways as you wanted him. "I can't wait to get back to San Diego."

"I'll be ready when you do."

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

I'm sweating. He's too much. He's too powerful. Bradley Bradshaw, get home and get your girl some Thai food! Also, Natasha is the friend of the year for taking out the trash. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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#lover boy rooster #HOT ROOSTER #series fic rec

[wildxwidow]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 5 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: With each email written and received, you and Bradley are both aching for more details. While he's thinking about plans for a first date, you get apprehensive, knowing you're going to be devastated when he returns to wherever he calls home after a few days of leave. If the two of you had an opportunity to speak more intimately, there's a chance the details could fall into place.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley being hot

Length: 4200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

After much consideration on the matter, you sat down at home that evening with your phone and started to type up a response to Bradley. He wanted to know in an overabundance of detail how you'd feel if he asked to cancel your dinner reservation and chill with takeout instead? You weren't quite sure what he was getting at, and it felt a little bit like he had given you another assignment to work on, but you were planning on being completely transparent with him. 

Once again, the ease with which you and he communicated, even through the written word alone, was something that made you a little dizzy. A little needy. Bradley had better communication skills and paid you more attention than half of the men you'd dated, and he wasn't even in the same time zone as you.

Bradley,

We got the package you sent. My kids went wild over their personalized notes, as per usual. You've reached full celebrity status in my classroom. We'll be working on sending some notes back to you in the next few days, so brace yourself.

Please remember that you asked me for an abundance of detail here... What would I do if you wanted to change plans? Wanted to spend a quiet evening hanging out at your place instead of going out? In an extreme effort to sound as cool as possible right now... just thinking about this is making me feel warm enough that I need to take a lap around my apartment. I guess first of all, I would tell you that as far as takeout is concerned, I love Thai food the most. I'm not very picky though, so even a generic pizza and some beer would more than suffice. 

If you said you were tired from work and still wanted to hang out, I wouldn't be too pressed about the details. I would be perhaps a little giddy that you missed me enough to want me around. I'd offer to pick up dinner on my way. I would let you choose the movie. I wouldn't even be upset if you fell asleep. In fact I'd probably just cover you with a blanket and let you doze. There is perhaps no worse feeling than forcing yourself to go out when you just really don't want to. And right now nothing sounds better to me than watching a movie with you on your couch. But I have to know... if you're 6'1", are you too tall to stretch out there comfortably? Where would I end up? Would we be touching? Please reply with an abundance of detail. 

I know this scenario is purely hypothetical, but it does sound pretty perfect. I'll be thinking about splitting some Thai curry with you on your couch for a long time. Maybe during those couple days of leave when you get back to San Diego, we could meet? I think I would like that, even if you just have one day before you have to get back to your regular routine. And now I need to take another lap around my apartment.

One last thing. The aviator who took my photo on the beach was a woman, but I appreciate your response. I can't guarantee I'll stay off the beach, but I can guarantee that I'll give a guy a chance. Also, what does a girl have to do around here to get a dreamy sunset photo of you? 

Once again, hitting send before I can change my mind.

You took another lap around your apartment, even going so far as to walk around the block before it got too dark outside. Thai food and Bradley Bradshaw and a movie on his couch. There was a loop playing in your mind where he leaned in and kissed you before calling you 'Gorgeous Girl' and reaching for your hand.

"Why are you torturing yourself like this?" you moaned out loud when you walked back inside all flushed with desire. You took a long bath. You made some sleepy time tea. You sat on your couch with your notebook and worked on lesson plans until it was pretty late, but you weren't tired at all.

Frustrated that you were letting this man take over so much of your brain, you went to your bedroom and plugged your phone in for the night. And that's when you heard the familiar ping, alerting you to the fact that you had a new email.

"No way," you gasped when you looked at the screen. You'd just send him a response two hours ago, and Bradley had already written back. You flopped down onto your bed, wrenching your phone back from the charger as you started to read.

Hey, Gorgeous,

Your answer was enlightening, thank you. Relieved to hear you wouldn't pout about missing the dinner reservation. I love Thai food, but I would absolutely insist on grabbing the takeout and having you pick the movie (nothing with scary spiders, please). 

I actually don't really fit on my couch too well at all. If I really stretch out, my feet dangle over the arm, and there wouldn't be much room left for you, too. Would we be touching? God, I hope so. Where would you end up? I'm blushing just thinking about the possibilities. 

You asked for details? Well, I'd ask for permission. If you gave me permission to touch you, we'd be holding hands. If you gave me permission for more than that, then you'd be covering both of us with a blanket, and I'd be holding you a lot closer. I don't think I should provide further details on that right now, actually. Gorgeous girl, you're messing with my head.

If you're feeling generous enough to give me a chance, then I'm feeling generous enough to send you a sunset photo. But frankly a girl like you isn't going to have to do much at all to get whatever she wants. Next decent sunset around here is all for you.

Your Truly,

Bradley

Well, you may never sleep again. You read his email twice before pulling up the photo of him in front of his jet, and your mind started to wander as you looked at his face. No, you'd never sleep again.

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

Bradley felt pretty ridiculous. He'd never taken so many photos of himself before in his life. Snapping a few for your class while in his cockpit with all of his gear on was one thing, but trying to get a flattering one of his face with the sun setting in the middle of the ocean was something else entirely. He was alone in a deserted part of the deck, thankful nobody else could see him. 

"Maybe she won't notice if I'm not in it," he muttered as he snapped one of the setting sun. The sky was glowing a deep orange, and the clouds moving in made everything look even dreamier. He started thinking about you and the fact that you said you were going to give him a chance. The details weren't important. He'd work that part out. When he got back to San Diego, he was going to see if you and he were as compatible in person as you were right now. But the remainder of his deployment was the one thing that was preventing that from happening immediately, and you did ask him for a photo of himself. If you really wanted it, he'd make sure you had it.

He had never been so stressed out about his scars in his adult life before right now. The best photo he took of himself was one where they looked a little more prominent. He'd sleep on it tonight and consider if he wanted to send it or a different one. Usually he didn't care at all. He supposed that in person, women would either talk to him or not, depending upon if they were bothered by the way he looked or not. But you weren't with him in person, and the more detailed the photos were, the more likely you were to dwell on his face now. He really wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

After grabbing an inspired dinner alone in the mess hall, he thought about eating spicy Thai curry on his couch while you and he argued playfully about which movie to watch. Then he thought about you sitting on his lap and maybe even touching his scars which he hoped you wouldn't be bothered by. Then, as he changed to head to the gym, he imagined all the things he thought about but didn't tell you. Like pulling you onto his lap or stretching out on his couch with you lying mostly on top of him. His hand would find a nice resting spot on your back, or maybe even a little lower. His lips would eventually find yours, and the movie would become a distant memory in his mind.

"Shit." Now he was the one who needed to walk a lap before he could even go to the gym. He was already sweating by the time he got there, making it his continued mission to avoid the married woman while he listened to his playlist. He did a few extra reps, knowing you were on dry land in San Diego and wanting to make sure he looked as good as possible. Maybe he could make up for the close up photo of his face with his body.

Without sleeping on it, Bradley went back to the lounge and logged in. He sent you the best photo of the bunch along with two sentences.

Thinking of you, Gorgeous. Tell me about your week.

But he didn't hear back from you right away, and it wasn't for lack of checking his inbox. He hoped you and your students were working their way through the last batch of notes that he'd mailed. Or maybe you were busy and tired from taking them on a field trip. He was hoping there was a reason other than you not liking his bad selfie that meant he didn't get a response. 

Luckily he got busy over the weekend so he didn't have to think about it as much. Each time he climbed that ladder up to his cockpit and waited patiently for his jet to launch from the carrier deck, he took a few seconds to clear his mind and make sure he was focused on the right thing. He needed to survive this deployment so he could even potentially allow his thoughts to go further with you later.

When he made his way back to the lounge after dinner and a shower on Sunday night, he definitely got more in his inbox than he was hoping for. And not in a good way. There was a new message from you, but it was sitting right beneath a second, newer message. From Vanessa.

"What the fuck?" Bradley asked himself, loud enough that the guy next to him turned and glanced his way. It had been months since they'd spoken. Literally fucking months, and she was emailing him now? "No." Sudden panic started to boil to the surface as he quickly tried to click on it, now terrified about what she could be contacting him in regards to.

Hi,

I'm only writing to you because I have a bit of an issue that I need your help dealing with. I can't find my favorite water bottle anywhere. I think it's in your kitchen cabinet, and I just started at a new gym, so I really need it. Let me know how I can get into your house to retrieve it. And please don't take forever to respond to this like you usually do. Like I said, I really need it.

Vanessa

It was a joke. It must be. Bradley double checked the email address to make sure he wasn't being pranked by Nat or somebody else, but no, it was really from Vanessa. 

"A fucking water bottle?" he muttered. He couldn't even picture what she was talking about. Unless it was that ugly, oversized pink thing she used to carry around with her everywhere? The one with the big handle that he joked could double as a weapon? That thing?

What the fuck. He wrote back to her before he even bothered to open the email from you.

Vanessa, it's a water bottle. And it's already been months. Can't this wait until I'm home?

He hit send, rolled his shoulders and took a few deep breaths. He could archive her message so he didn't have to see it again, and he'd just deal with her bullshit later. He would read what you had to say instead, and hopefully it would cheer him up. But after he stood and stretched for a minute and sat back down, there was already a new response from Vanessa waiting for him.

"What the actual hell?" he grunted. He didn't even know what time it was at home, and he didn't take the few seconds to do the math as he started to read.

No, Bradley. I can't wait. It's a $65 sustainable, dual temperature, leak proof water bottle in a limited edition color. And I would like it back. I tried to find a replacement online, but I do not want a potentially used water bottle. Please advise.

He sat there with his fists clenched and his jaw set tight. He literally could not believe her. Anyone else would just use a different water bottle like a normal person, but he knew she'd be on his ass nonstop about this now. The fact that he was going to have to explain this situation to Nat and beg her to go over there with his spare key was almost laughable. He'd probably owe her two steak dinners if he asked her to deal with his ex girlfriend, because she never could stomach Vanessa. 

He sent Nat a quick email anyway with Vanessa's phone number which he had to look up in his phone, begging her to take care of this for him. It would be worth the price of two dinners at this point. Then he settled back in his seat and tapped on your beautiful name, letting the monitor fill up with your words. When he started reading, he forgot he was supposed to feel nervous at what you sent back in response to the close up selfie.

Bradley,

Wow. I didn't think things could improve after the photo of you with your jet and the video where you're speaking. But I was wrong. So wrong. And I'm not upset about it. You're very handsome. The sunset looks okay, too. Now you're the one messing with my head.

I'm sorry I didn't write back immediately, but you should know that your hot photo has taken up residence in my mind. My week involved three of my students getting sick with the flu as well as a bunch of parent/teacher conferences, and tonight I'm really tired. The idea of snuggling, or more, with you on your couch has been playing on loop. I'm giving you permission to hold my hand if we ever meet in person. You have very nice looking hands. You have a very nice looking everything. Would you mind me asking how old you are?

Right, well, we mailed another box back to you on Friday afternoon. My kids asked me to project a photo of a Super Hornet onto the wall so they could have a drawing contest. I finally caved and let them, and they want you to be the judge. And once again, you'll have eighteen individual letters to read. Nineteen if you include the one I put in the box.

On that note, I'm going to take a bath and snuggle up in bed. And you can't blame a girl for looking at that photo again.

Yours Truly,

Your favorite pen pal 

Now this was the kind of thing he wanted in his inbox, not questions about missing water bottles. Bradley hit reply immediately, happy that you hadn't even mentioned his scars. You thought he was handsome in the close up picture? He always figured he was okay enough looking that his height and build made women say he was attractive. But you actually called him handsome. He started typing back to you, already feeling so much better.

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

After resting all weekend, you were definitely feeling better. You loved your students, but sometimes dealing with their parents was more than you bargained for. Adults were often worse than kids when it came to complaining and exercising patience. All of the conferences from last week were a thing of the past now, but you still felt a little bad for taking so long to write back to Bradley. Especially after he sent you that photo.

Maybe you felt like you had to reel it in a little bit. What was the most that was going to happen? He'd agree to meet you during his short leave in San Diego? Maybe you'd go out on a date? It would probably be the best date of your life. It might even turn out to be the best night of your life. And then he'd leave for another station with the Navy, or maybe he'd return back home, leaving you feeling even lonelier than you did before you inadvertently mailed him that first box.

It was a good thing you had your students to take your mind off things on Monday morning. 

"Are we going to talk about aviation now or after lunch?" Violet asked as she unpacked her pencil box.

You took a deep breath and said, "We're actually going to start a unit on Natural History today." Eighteen pairs of eyes stared at you like you'd completely lost your mind. "It'll be great!"

Oliver's hand rocketed into the air. "Does Lieutenant Bradley also know stuff about Natural History? Is that what we're going to write to him about now?"

Great. Your students were just as attached as you were. "Well since our aviation unit is going to be tapering off, we probably won't need to be writing to him as much now."

"What?" gasped Jayden. 

"No way," complained Nia. 

After that, you tried to move along with your lesson plans, but the entire class just sat there quietly, barely engaged with what you were saying. And perhaps part of it was your fault, because you didn't really feel like teaching this after all. By the time lunch and recess arrived, you felt defeated. You sat quietly at your desk in your empty classroom while your kids played outside, and you ate your lunch while you checked your phone. Bradley had written back an hour ago. Even if you wanted to wait until later to read it, you wouldn't have been able to.

Hey, Gorgeous,

That note from you made my day. I can't wait for the new letters from the kids to arrive so I can spend my evenings writing back instead of absolutely living in the gym right. You want me to judge a drawing contest? Bring it on. I'm so ready.

I'll tell you how old I am. I wasn't expecting to be so nervous about it, though. I'm thirty-six. You definitely look younger than that. I know it's never appropriate to ask a woman how old she is, so maybe you'll offer that number up without me asking? And maybe you'll tell me that I'm still within the age range of men you let email you regularly? Please?

Not gonna lie, taking a hot bath sounds amazing right now. And snuggling up in something bigger than an extra long twin bed would be heavenly. And thinking about you doing either of those things is enough to get me through the week with a smile on my face. Maybe even through the rest of the month. Maybe even to the point where I'm in San Diego. You'd look adorable snuggled up in your bed. But then again, when aren't you completely Gorgeous?

I'll be waiting for more air mail and another email.

Yours Truly,

Bradley Bradshaw

"Damn it," you groaned, melting back into your desk chair and shoving a cracker into your mouth. Even if meeting him was going to be a one-off, you still wanted to do this. You still wanted to write back to him and flirt and listen to his voice in the video he sent for your class with Marty the mechanic. You wanted to think about him working out on the aircraft carrier. You still wanted him to call you Gorgeous. You'd write back tonight.

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

Bradley was taking another video and some more photos in the shop with Marty for your class when one of the admirals stopped by. He jumped to attention and addressed him. "Sir, what can I do for you?"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw, you haven't put in for a phone call. Would you like to?"

Bradley just blinked at him for a few seconds. "I don't really have anyone to call, Sir." But that wasn't completely true. He'd never actually asked you about it, but he wouldn't mind calling your number. Which he didn't even have.

The admiral nodded and said, "Just giving first dibs to my high rankers who haven't made a call home yet. Otherwise you're dismissed, Lieutenant."

As soon as he started to walk away, Bradley found himself following along. "Actually, Sir, I may have changed my mind."

If he was already thinking about Thai food and a picnic on the beach for a first date, he might as well just ask you for your number now. As long as you didn't tell him his age was an issue. As long as you seemed keen on the idea of him calling. So he put his name down on the list, and then he started to sweat. He finished up with Marty, and he headed for the lounge.

When he logged in, he braced himself for another note from Vanessa like he always did now, but the only new item he saw was from you. He decided right then that if the vibes still felt right, he'd ask for permission to call you. And yeah, the vibes were feeling pretty fucking good. 

As soon as he opened the email, the attached photo at the bottom pulled his gaze in like a beacon. You were in bed, mostly under the covers, and the thin straps of some sort of tank top were the only thing preventing him from having a completely unobstructed view of both of your shoulders. Your skin looked impossibly soft, too perfect for him to touch with his rough hands, and your expression was playful and maybe a little nervous. He could see the soft swell of your breasts before the blankets enveloped your body in the most comfortable looking cocoon. He wanted to join you there in the worst way, and keep you warm enough that you wouldn't even need that blanket.

His heart was pounding as he started to read your note.

Bradley,

You know, it's funny you should mention that, because my currently inactive dating app profile says I'm interested in men who are between 30 and 40 years old. So you sound kind of perfect to me. And not that you asked or anything, but I turned 30 earlier this year. I hope that's within the age range of women that you let email you regularly.

I'm writing this from my bed. I have attached a photo. I'm not wearing any makeup, and I'm all snuggled in for the night, and of course I'm thinking about you. Whether it's a good idea or not, I find myself frequently thinking about you.

Your favorite pen pal

He scrolled back to the photo and sighed. Oh, he knew it was a good idea. Maybe you just needed a little bit more convincing, but it was definitely a great idea. That first date was looking better and better in his mind. He wished he could give you an estimate on when he'd be home so the two of you could start planning it. Bradley's stomach was growling for dinner as he pried his eyes away from your photo long enough to type out a message.

Hey, Gorgeous,

You're the only woman I'm going to let email me regularly. And I was right. You do look adorable snuggled up in your bed. That photo is going to keep me up at night wondering how cute you'd look in mine...

It looks like I'll have the opportunity to make a phone call soon, and I'd love to hear your voice. If you want to talk. I can't guarantee I won't sound like an idiot, tripping over my words the whole time, but hey, a guy can dream. Will you let me have your phone number?

Yours Truly,

Bradley

And now, once again, he would wait for you to respond, hoping his luck wasn't about to run out.

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

A phone call! She him your number immediately, Gorgeous! There are some things you need to hear him say in that raspy, sexy voice! Thank you @beyondthesefourwalls

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#lover boy rooster

[wildxwidow]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 4 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: As you and Bradley start to blur the line between professional and personal correspondence, you feel yourself falling for him even more. He has charmed your students as well as you, and you decide to continue taking a chance on him.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley sounding hot

Length: 3800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley spent an hour bundling up all of his letters to your students, getting them ready to be sent back to California. Sure, he wanted to impress you, but he also couldn't deny that he was attached to hearing from Oliver, Violet, Jayden and everyone else. And according to you, they were just as happy to hear from him.

Without giving it a second thought, Bradley went all in with your personal email address. An account where he assumed you could say and send anything you wanted to. One that nobody else was monitoring. His thoughts strayed constantly over the past few hours to what that might mean. What did you deem too personal for your school account?

You told him you were single, and you made it seem like you were into him. You said he gave you butterflies, and now he desperately wanted to see this thing through. When he closed his eyes, he could picture the photos of your smiling face, and he felt a little dizzy. He wanted you to tell him everything. He wanted you to wait for him so he could take you on a date. Or several. He wanted to know what your lips tasted like.

It sounded like your ex was a real tool if he didn't appreciate what you did and how hard you worked. You taught eighteen kids enough about aviation that they asked Bradley some pertinent questions and brought up information that was relevant to his job. He was impressed as hell, and he thought he could be better than what you had before. He already knew without a shadow of a doubt that you were better than Vanessa. It was obvious.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw."

He turned toward the voice calling his name as soon as he dropped the package with your name on it off at the mail center. "Hey," he called out to the mechanic who let him take those photos for your class a few weeks ago. He read his jumpsuit again just to be sure. "What's up, Marty?"

He jerked his thumb toward the main deck and said, "I just got around to unpacking some new engine components. You still writing to those kids?"

"Yeah."

"I'm about to do some repairs if you want to take some more pictures or a video for them."

Bradley had been planning on stalking his inbox for the rest of the day in the hopes that you'd write back and comment on his brief missive telling you he wanted the conversation to go further, but this seemed better than driving himself crazy. He could practically picture you and your kids flipping through some photos and watching a cool video he managed to snag for you. "Yeah, Marty. Let me grab my phone, and I'll meet you out in the shop."

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

After you read the email from Bradley where he called you Gorgeous, you were up most of the night. First, you screeched and almost spilled hot tea all over yourself as you rushed to set your mug down on the coffee table so you could giggle and kick your feet in the air. Then you read and reread the short email for about five minutes, curled up in a little ball with your phone right in front of your face. Then you sprawled along your couch and let yourself imagine what he might be like in person.

It was too early to get your hopes up about ever getting that far, but you couldn't seem to stop yourself from thinking about it. You hummed softly, because in your daydream, he lived in San Diego and asked you out on a date, and he was a perfect gentleman until you didn't want him to be any longer. You didn't even consider what reality might hold, because you were sure you wouldn't like it as much.

But for now, he was on board with going further. Your expectations of things included chatting about your likes and dislikes as well as learning more about him. "I'd like to take it further," you read softly, trying to imagine it in a masculine voice. But what did that sentence mean for him? You sat up on the couch. Surely he wasn't going to turn into a pig and start sending you anything too raunchy. Right?

You swiped out of your email inbox and looked at the photo of him standing in front of his jet and moaned. It was actually your mind heading for the gutter as you wondered what it would feel like to be wrapped up in his big arms. What it would be like to tug the zipper of his flight suit down slowly, enjoying the feel of the pull between your thumb and index finger.

It was like the fictional leading man in a romance novel came to life and told you that he thought you were pretty and that he liked your students. You flopped back down on the couch and screeched into the pillow so as not to alarm your neighbors. You needed to respond, but you didn't know what to say since you were probably past the point of playing it cool. You chewed on your lip while you typed and then deleted several versions before sending him something that you thought was okay.

Bradley,

I'd like to take it further, too. I don't usually do this kind of thing (oh, who am I kidding... I never do this kind of thing), but there's just something about you that made me feel like it was worth the risk. I hope I'm not being too bold if I say that I found the photos you sent me quite distracting. However, it's not just your looks that made me share my personal email address with you. I like the way you give me butterflies. There's something sweet that comes through in your writing, and I want to get to know you better. On that note, if you feel so inclined, please tell me three things I should know about you.

Yours Truly,

Your favorite pen pal

Once again, you had written back to him so quickly, it should have been embarrassing, but you had nothing to lose here. You tossed out the bait, and he took it in the most spectacular fashion. You didn't want to miss an opportunity like this, even if he did seem too good to be true.

But he still hadn't written back when you got to work the next morning. The ping of the email alert on your phone made you reach for it immediately, but it was just a reminder to pay your bills on time. As you unlocked your classroom door and flipped the lights on, you considered that maybe your message was a little bit boring. After all, you were the one to bring your personal account into play. Perhaps he was expecting you to reply with some sort of dirty picture. Your cheeks burned with mixed embarrassment. You wanted to take it further, but you didn't know how. You just knew that you wanted to keep him engaged without compromising yourself.

You tucked your bag and your phone away in your desk drawer and pulled out your lesson plans for the day. You'd start things off with language arts and then work your way through math and science before your kids had art class. There was no reason you had to think about Bradley at all right now; he could just wait until later with his big hands and his thick thighs and his mustache and cute smile.

Just before your students were due to arrive, you opened your laptop and logged in to see which parents had emailed you with questions or concerns about their child. You froze when you saw an email that was sent a few minutes ago from Bradley with the subject line A visit to the mechanic's shop. When you opened it up, you found that he had attached a video and a handful of photos. 

You were a little bit annoyed that he didn't respond to the message you sent from your other account where you asked him to tell you about himself, but that melted away as soon as you clicked on the video. His face flashed up on your computer screen, and all of the features you'd shamelessly memorized were right there in front of you. Cute smile, tidy mustache, brown eyes, wavy hair. But then you heard his voice.

"Hey. I just thought I'd take all nineteen of my favorite pen pals on a little tour around the mechanic shop aboard the Theodore Roosevelt. Sound good?"

You slammed your computer shut and moaned, thighs pressed tight together as your heart hammered. He was too much. It was just a video. He wasn't even really here, but he was an absolute assault on your senses. He called you gorgeous, but meanwhile it was hard to look directly at him for fear that you'd burst out into a fit of giggles. You shook your tingling hands out and slowly opened your computer again.

"Bradley Bradshaw. How are you this hot?" you whispered at the video paused on your screen. His face was frozen mostly in profile as he looked to the side, and for the first time, you saw some long scars on his cheek and neck. "Oh." They weren't new, rather giving the appearance that they had faded over time. You wondered how pronounced they would feel beneath your fingers. Would he let you touch them? Let you drag your lips across them while your hands found their way to his tousled hair?

After taking a few deep breaths, you let the video play again. Another man joined Bradley on the screen, and he was holding up a long, metal rod.

"This is my friend Marty. He's been a mechanic in the Navy for twenty-six years, and he specializes in aircraft repairs. He knows more about my Super Hornet than I do, and I'm not ashamed to admit that. So I'm just going to stand here and hold my phone still while we watch Marty do his thing."

The rest of the video was fascinating. It was still interesting the second time when you watched it with your class instead of doing your language arts lesson. The kids sat at rapt attention, eating up that little introduction that Bradley gave just as you had. He didn't talk to them like a bunch of little kids who didn't understand anything, which you loved. He and Marty explained what they were doing without making it too juvenile. Then when the video ended, your kids started raising their hands with question after question.

"You know what to do," you told them, holding out a dry erase marker for Jackie to take. She wrote down the list of questions that everyone had for Bradley while you tapped through the photos, once again imagining how warm and rough his hands would feel wrapped around your own instead of an intake manifold.

The impromptu aviation lesson lasted for two hours until your kids left for art class, and now you were a little concerned about all of the additional, more personal questions you had for Bradley besides the ones your class came up with. You wanted to know how old he was and where his scars came from. You wanted to know where he lived now, but you were too afraid of the answer. According to one of the notes he wrote back to Violet, he went to the University of Virginia. He even sounded like he was from the east coast.

You sat at your desk alone, digging your snack out of your drawer along with your phone. There was a new email. You smiled as you realized he must have sent it to you just after he emailed the video he took for your whole class to watch. The opening greeting once again had you kicking your feet beneath your desk, snack forgotten. 

Hey, Gorgeous,

I'm still having a hard time believing that you want to get to know me better. Full disclosure, I'm a little nervous you'll get bored talking to me. I don't have much family, and I know it's cliche, but flying really is my passion. I spend a lot of my time on aircraft carriers which makes it hard to maintain relationships and friendships with people on dry land. 

Talking to my nineteen new pen pals has been the most exciting part of my deployment. But you're right... you're my favorite one. I could tell from the first letter that wasn't even specifically meant for me that you were funny and sweet. And then I saw what you look like, and I kept going back to the photo for another look. You're just as gorgeous as you are funny and sweet.

Three things you should know about me? One, I'm afraid of spiders. Like so afraid of them that I might have a crisis on my hands if you tell me you have a beloved pet tarantula or something. Two, I loved taking piano lessons so much when I was a kid, I actually still take them. (Now I'm sitting here wondering why I'm telling you embarrassing shit.) My next door neighbor is a retired music teacher, and when I'm home, I trade yard work for piano lessons. Everyone wins. Third, I like giving Gorgeous teachers butterflies. That's a new one, but I thought you should know about it.

I'm giving you some homework, hope you don't mind. I want you to send me a picture of one of those San Diego sunsets where the sky somehow looks both blue and orange at the same time. If you happen to be in the photo, I'm not going to complain. I would also love to hear three things I should know about you. 

Please tell your kids they have mail on the way. I hope to hear back from them. And you.

Yours Truly,

Bradley

Oh. This crush was even worse than you thought.

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

After days of running drills, Bradley was finally grounded because of a bad storm that was closing in, and he was given a few hours off. He stood out on deck, letting the first drops of hard rain hit his face. He was hoping to get a nice sunset photo to send to you, but the past few days had been terribly cloudy. And now he felt like he was being torn in three directions as his flight suit got wet: he was sweaty, hungry and curious. As a result, he couldn't decide if he should hit the shower, the mess hall or the lounge first.

He reasoned that he'd best appreciate an email from you if he was cleaned up and well fed. If you'd had time to write back to him, it would top off his night in the sweetest way possible. So he took a shower and unfortunately had to eat cabbage rolls for dinner. He chuckled to himself as he walked toward the lounge, picturing a bunch of fourth graders eating dinner in the mess hall and ranking the foods. They would probably love that, actually.

As Bradley logged in and watched his email inbox appear on one of the lounge computers, he muttered, "Hell yes." There was a new message from you, and he couldn't click on it fast enough. Before he started reading, the attached photo caught his attention, and he grunted softly. Fuck. 

There you were, on a stretch of beach in Coronado, not even a mile from his house with the sun setting behind you. Your features were in shadow, but your smile was a little shy and very pretty. You looked so soft, standing there on the windswept sand in denim shorts and an oversized sweatshirt with Mira Mesa Elementary printed on the front, and all he wanted to do was touch you. He could already imagine a picnic dinner on that beach, snuggling up with you as cooler temperatures moved in. Enjoying the blues and oranges until the sky got so dark, he'd lead you back to his house with your fingers laced with his.

Bradley,

I'm turning in my homework. I hope I get a passing grade. I'm not usually the student, so I'm a little out of practice. A Naval officer from Top Gun took this photo for me. Apparently aviators just like you are all over the beaches in Coronado.

I have some good news for you. While I'm not actually afraid of spiders, I promise I don't have a beloved pet tarantula. And I'm sorry, but the idea of you still taking piano lessons made me giggle for a solid minute. The mental image is just that adorable. 

You always seem to know what to say to make my butterflies go crazy, and that's just through the written word. As an educator, I always stress the importance of honesty to my students. So let me just say that honestly, I'm not going to get bored talking to you. I also can't lie about the fact that I watched the video you sent several times just to hear your voice. (Now I'm the one embarrassing herself.) And I really can't see how you would have a hard time maintaining a relationship while you're away. Maybe your previous partners didn't appreciate how rare it is to find someone who is willing to put in some effort. Or maybe they didn't find your arachnophobia oddly endearing. But I kind of do.

Three things you should know about me: 1. I graduated from college with a 4.0 GPA. 2. Sometimes I fall asleep during movies, especially if I'm snuggled up on my own couch. 3. I have a crush on you.

Hitting send before I can change my mind.

Bradley couldn't help the smile teasing at his lips as he tucked his hands behind his head and read your last few sentences again. He always wanted to continue talking to you, so maybe it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that you wouldn't grow bored with this. Maybe you'd care more about him than going out on dates, unlike Vanessa. He wasn't going to wait before responding to your email. What was the point? You were into him, and he was definitely into you.

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

"We got mail!" you announced, holding up the package that was waiting for you in the school office when you refilled your travel coffee mug on your way to your classroom. Your students erupted into delighted conversation.

"Is it from Lieutenant Bradshaw?" asked Jayden.

"Of course it is," Violet told him. "It must be. He's our pen pal after all."

"Did he send us more notes?" Oliver asked, practically bouncing out of his seat in anticipation.

"He did!" you confirmed as you tore into the package and enlisted Harrison to help you hand the individual notes to their recipients. The room went silent as soon as they all started reading, and then one after the next, the kids started to get out their notebooks to start their responses.

You felt warm all over. Bradley was on your mind a lot, and you didn't really want him going anywhere. You watched the video he sent again last night before you went to sleep, and you dreamed about a strong man with a sexy voice curled up behind you in bed. You knew you had a new email from him, but you were waiting until you could sit quietly during your lunch break to read it.

At some point, you were going to have to taper off the aviation curriculum and focus on other things, but you just didn't want to have to do that yet. Not when your class was so engaged. Not when it made you feel connected to a man thousands of miles away who you had feelings for in spite of that fact that you never met him in person. In spite of the fact that you were too afraid to ask him where he lived.

After you eventually walked your kids down to the lunchroom, you were free to read your email from Bradley in peace. But the more you thought about opening it, you started to get nervous. You already admitted you were interested him, so there was really no going back. If he hadn't sent you something similar, you were going to have to crawl under a rock, but you got your phone out as you took a deep breath and started reading.

Hey, Gorgeous,

Now wait right there. I have some concerns. I'm going to address them in order, so please bear with me. First of all, you didn't just pass your homework assignment, you got an A+. I've never seen such a beautiful sunset in my life, and yet it was barely noticeable next to you. But here's my main issue. I can't have another aviator taking sunset photos of you and sweeping you off your feet. How about you just stay off that beach in Coronado for the time being? Give a guy a chance here?

I couldn't agree more about the importance of being honest. Honestly, I'm letting out the breath I've been holding, worried that you were going to send me a photo of you with your pet tarantula. And honestly, smart women really do it for me, so any time you want to bring up that 4.0 GPA, I'm going to need a minute. And honestly, nothing sounds better than watching a movie with you on your couch right now. Can't stop thinking about it, actually. 

Please, tell me in an overabundance of detail, what you would do if I promised I would take you out to dinner but then changed my mind and told you that I was tired from work and wanted to spend a quiet evening on my couch with some takeout instead.

You have a crush on me? Gorgeous girl, all I can think about is the couple days of leave I'm going to have once this aircraft carrier finally docks back in San Diego. Where you are. You and my eighteen other pen pals. I think I have a thing for fourth grade teachers. Or maybe it's just you. I can't wait to hear from you again.

Yours Truly,

Bradley

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

Okay. Some admissions have been made. Little bits of feelings have been established. She has seen him and heard his voice, and I think we're ready to keep taking things further. Maybe a phone call? Maybe another photo or two? We also can't leave the fourth graders hanging. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

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#lover boy rooster #series fic rec

[wildxwidow]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 3 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You rendered Bradley speechless and left him wondering if your students were the ones who wanted to know what he looked like or if it was really you who was curious. He wanted to know everything about you, but the urge to ask for more was mingling with his duty to keep things professional. You and he teetered on the edge... until you didn't.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley looking hot

Length: 3100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley found himself homesick in a way he never did before. He still had weeks and weeks of this deployment to go, stuck on the aircraft carrier, endlessly curious about someone he barely knew anything about and a classroom full of kids he'd never met. But he felt like he wanted to know more about you and them. 

At least he was too busy now to dwell on the fact that it had been days since the last mail call. He was never one who was lined up, eager to collect something from a loved one. Vanessa and all of his other ex girlfriends never sent him handwritten notes or snacks. He'd gotten sporadic emails in the past, but nothing that made him smile and laugh out loud. Never anything that made him sad when he realized he had reached the end of the note, hoping for more.

He wanted to go back to the lounge and check his email, but he was afraid he'd have nothing new to read. There was really nobody else other than you who would send him anything right now, and he was sure you had something better to do with your time than comment on the photos he'd send of his jet and the engine parts. And even if you had written back, how long could he really keep this conversation with you going? How soon would you run out of interest in his deployment?

Bradley knew he'd be much better at talking to you in person, but how the hell was he supposed to get there? Jesus Christ, you were probably married. You probably already had someone back home wrapped around your fingers, and here he was, still thinking about you. 

"Pitiful," he muttered, making his way to the lounge anyway. He would keep it professional with you. One hundred percent. But he still wanted to know if your students got to see the photos and if they had any questions about them. 

When he logged into his email account, his heart skipped around a bit when he saw that he had something new from you. Then he opened it up and read it, and his lips parted softly in surprise at what you'd sent.

Thank you for the photos. They were very enlightening. We especially liked the ones where you were showing off your cockpit. Or I did, anyway. The kids liked all of them and started on another list of questions for you. Good luck getting rid of us now. 

We were wondering if you could have someone take a picture of you standing in front of your jet. For size comparison purposes. And also because my students would like to know what you look like. Hearing from you makes our day even better.

Bradley read it again. Still surprised, he read it a third time. Were you the one asking for the photo? It seemed like you might be. Or was he just projecting here? Shit. Maybe. He'd been thinking about how he'd respond if you asked him something personal, and this felt like you and he were teetering right on the edge.

You even echoed his own thoughts, but it still made him warm all over to know that you looked forward to hearing from him. That it made your day better when he sent an email. He decided he was going to keep this going as long as he could.

He logged out again and headed to the mess hall for dinner, because there was no point in responding until he had the photo you just asked him for. One where you'd be able to see exactly what every inch of him looked like. As he ate his meatloaf, his thoughts all settled on that one pertinent question: were your students really the ones who were curious about how he looked, or were you? Because it sounded like it could be the latter. He fucking hoped it was. And he fucking hoped you wouldn't be disappointed after tomorrow when he sent you exactly what was asked of him.

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

You thought you were ready, but you weren't. Not for this. Not for him. Not even close. Thankfully it was still early enough that none of your students were in the classroom with you, because Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw had responded to your slightly tipsy email from a few nights ago. He sent exactly one photo, and your only response was to softly moan, "Holy hell."

To say he was attractive looking standing there in his flight suit next to the jet with his name on the side of it would have been the understatement of the century. He was hot. Unbelievably hot. Top tier. You shamelessly zoomed in to get an even better look at his face which was complete with a crooked little smile and a fucking mustache.

"Who does he think he is?" you asked the empty room, voice filled with need. "The audacity."

Even his messy, wavy hair looked soft enough for you to want to rub your face and lips against it. Where did that idea come from? You uncrossed and recrossed your legs as the most delightful thoughts filled your mind. You already knew he was sweet, kind, attentive and humble, but now you knew he was easy on the eyes, too. If only you could hear his voice. 

After several minutes of uninterrupted gawking, you realized he'd written a few sentences to you as well, addressing you just as he always had. But this felt more personal. Maybe a little intimate.

For reference, I'm 6'1" and 205 pounds. That should give you and your kiddos a good size comparison, yeah? Also, just a little curious myself here.... are you sure they were the only ones who wanted to know what I look like? Or did you want to know, too?

So he called you out. Your whole body felt too hot and too light. You were floating off of your chair even as your heart pounded. You must be two feet in the air by now. He already knew what you looked like, but now you cared more than ever what he thought about you. Because you had a massive crush on your classroom pen pal.

"How embarrassing. You drunk emailed him! How are you supposed to respond to this?" you whispered as you closed your laptop and pressed your fingers to your lips. It was hard to tell if his tone was playful or not. He was smiling in the photo, which made you think that he was. But perhaps he was trying to put a stop to any topic of conversation that could be considered personal. 

Then it hit you like a bolt of lightning. No way was this man single. He was handsome. That would have been enough on its own. But he also had an impressive career, all of his hair, and he was tall. And that didn't even scrape the surface of his sweet personality! You couldn't embarrass yourself further. You just couldn't. You wanted him to keep writing to your class, because they were already so attached to him. You couldn't ruin this for them. 

When your students came flooding into the room, they led off with the same question they had every morning now. "Did we get anything in the mail from Lieutenant Bradshaw?"

"Not yet," you replied, still trying to decide how to respond to his photo. "But hopefully soon. He did email another picture though."

All of them were immediately headed for your desk, wanting to see what their pen pal looked like. You pressed your lips together, bracing yourself as you opened up that photo again, and then the kids all interjected into your thoughts.

"His jet is so cool!"

"It's huge!"

"He looks exactly how I thought he would!"

"Can he send us more stuff?"

It took you a good, long while to get them all into their seats. Clearly you weren't the only one who was entranced by him. Their questions overflowed, most of which still had to do with the aviation topics you'd been teaching them. Bradley Bradshaw had turned your classroom upside down, in a good way. And the more you thought about it, the more you just wanted to make sure you weren't missing out on something here. This man was better looking than the last three guys you went out with all combined, and he already made you feel tingly inside before you knew that for a fact.

You went home after work and did it again. You drank some wine and logged into your work email account and wrote back to him less than a day after he wrote to you. Part of you recognized that you'd look desperate, but you simply had to know so you could stop thinking about him if necessary. You started typing. 

It was definitely, absolutely my students who wanted to know what you look like. It had nothing to do with me. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it. That being said...nice photo. Very nice.

My kids also wanted me to ask you if your spouse or significant other is in the Navy. And they'd like to know how old your kids are if you have any. Once again, just to be clear, I'm only asking these things on their behalf...

"Send," you whispered, doing it before you could stop yourself. Then you were left with your intrusive thoughts and the rest of the wine, ultimately deciding to just go to bed. He wasn't going to respond right away. He was busy working. You just hoped it didn't take too long. 

But it did. Days passed. You normally tried not to think about your work email account during the weekends, let alone check it. Saturday was miserable as you logged in almost hourly to check and double check if you had something new from Lieutenant Bradshaw. It was so bad, you ended up initiating a movie night with some of your friends, opting to lock your phone in the center console of your car rather than take it into the theater. 

Sunday was no better. You took yourself to the beach for the afternoon to try to read and sunbathe. But there was a group of guys in US NAVY TOP GUN shirts playing football, and you wondered if Bradley ever did this kind of thing with his friends. Or his family. Jesus Christ, why couldn't he just write back and tell you if he had a pretty wife and six adorable kids who loved to play football on the beach with him?

When two of the guys in the TOP GUN shirts purposely threw the football toward your towel and tried to play it off as an accident, you didn't even feel like returning their flirtatious banter. Neither of them had a mustache or soft looking brown hair. Neither of them left you wanting to know more. 

You went home and tried so hard not to check your work email, but you failed miserably. But then you were happy you caved, because he wrote back. Bradley Bradshaw actually responded again. And a few seconds later, you were giggling and trying to control the squeal that escaped your lips.

When the mail arrived on the aircraft carrier yesterday, I was one of the first officers in line, and I wasn't disappointed. I got the second box from your class, and I can't wait to start reading and responding to everyone's notes this week. I'll let you know when you've got more mail coming your way. 

Since your students seem to be showing quite an interest in my personal life, please let them know I actually don't have a spouse or significant other at all. Nor do I have any kids. Their letters (and your emails, too) are the only ones I'm getting this deployment. No one else has been writing to me. Nobody stateside is waiting for me. I hope that answers their questions to your liking.

And now it's your turn to answer a question for me. Is there a guy in your life who is going to try to beat the crap out of me if I tell you that I think you're gorgeous? 

I'll just be waiting impatiently for your response.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

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

Bradley was so tired. The kind of bone deep exhaustion that only comes after the completion of a dangerous mission when your adrenaline finally wears off. All he could think about was how badly he wanted to be back at home in his bed in San Diego with a soft, warm body next to his and a sweet voice in his ear. But he was picturing your face and your body, already convinced you'd have the sweetest voice he'd ever heard.

Shit. He needed to focus on what the admirals had to say instead of drift into daydreams.

"No need to report to the strategy room in the morning, Lieutenant," his commanding officer said as Bradley unzipped the top of his flight suit. "Take some time to rest."

He saluted the admiral and walked off toward his bunk and a hot shower. But even as the steamy water eased the ache in his muscles, he thought about how he already knew he wouldn't be able to sleep right now. Not when he still had a few messages from your students to respond to. Not when those notes always made him smile.

This time you'd only included a very short note in the box, but it wasn't typed up and printed out. It was written in your pretty penmanship on a sheet of lined paper.

Lt Bradshaw,

I hope this package finds you well. Please prepare yourself for approximately seven hundred more questions. Thanks again for sharing your time with us.

He didn't mind one bit. In all actuality, he was living for this shit, already thinking about how he could maybe visit your classroom someday soon. Several of the kids asked him if he could. They all asked him to take more pictures of life on the aircraft carrier. Then he laughed for a solid minute over the photo that Jayden sent of his Cocker Spaniel named Vanessa. 

But Bradley had purposely been neglecting his email inbox for the last few days. He was too afraid to read your words telling him that you were in fact taken, and that he was stupid for thinking you'd been the one who wanted to know what he looked like. He was rather enjoying the delusion that you might let him tell you how pretty he thought you were over email and maybe someday in person. He decided to respond to the rest of the notes in the box before getting rejected, otherwise it would be too hard to do this.

He finished writing back to Oliver and Cooper and then tucked the box away under his bed before drifting off to sleep while dreaming of his own bed. But the next day, he had literally no work to do. He's been given the entire day off. He hit the gym and avoided the married woman like the plague. Then he ate lunch and contemplated going back to the gym again, but his feet carried him to the lounge instead. At the very least, he promised you that he'd let you know when you had mail on the way so the kids could get excited. He should take the time to tell you he'd be sending more responses to your class by air mail.

Somehow Bradley had convinced himself so thoroughly that you were in a relationship, he almost couldn't fathom anything else. But there was a new message from you in his inbox, and it felt like a gift when he opened and read it.

Lt Bradshaw,

I must say, I was surprised to find out that my emails and the letters from my class are the only ones making their way to you. Not that I'm complaining. Not one bit. I just find it hard to believe that you don't have a lot of interested parties hoping for a chance to be the one you think about when you're deployed and all alone.

My last boyfriend didn't like it when I talked about my fourth graders. He didn't really see any value in what I do for a living. He would have never taken the time to read something they wrote let alone answer their questions individually. So no, there's nobody who would be upset with you for making me feel like there are butterflies permanently living in my belly now. If you want to tell me you think I'm gorgeous, I'm certainly not going to stop you.

Here's my personal, non school affiliated email address. Just in case you feel like using it. If not, you can keep responding here, and I can take the hint that we went far enough.

I hope you're doing well and staying safe.

Frantically, Bradley checked the date and time stamp. "Fuck," he growled, his fingers not quite able to keep up with his brain when he realized you'd sent this to him days ago. More than five days ago! "Shit. Fuck!" He had been keeping you waiting! As soon as he got his hands working at the same speed as his thoughts, he copied and pasted your personal email address and started a new thread like his life depended on it.

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

You were just curling up with a cup of sleepy time tea after a long day at work, wishing someone would put you out of your misery, when your phone vibrated on the couch cushion next to your leg. You were half tempted to ignore it, reasoning that it was probably time to accept the fact that Bradley Bradshaw already lost interest in you and delete his photos from your downloads folder. You should learn how to stop embarrassing yourself.

Then you glanced down and saw that you had a new email. It was from a now familiar sender. It had been sent to your personal account. You immediately scrambled to unlock your phone and read it.

Hey, Gorgeous,

I'd like to take it further.

Yours Truly,

Bradley Bradshaw

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

What the fuck, Bradley, you smooth man! Take it further, take it further, take it further! I love how impatient they get when they want to hear from each other. Now go ahead and get a little more personal. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who sent me messages and asks about this fic.

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

#lover boy rooster

[wildxwidow]

HEAVENLY | steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: in view of your recent impertinent behaviour, your parents decide to leave you under the watch of the son of your dad’s business partner. what they don’t know is that steve harrington would never be able to boss you around… but maybe he can teach you a couple of things about your body.

kinda frenemies to lovers | no use of y/n | no mentions of specific race, hair type of body type.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: inexperienced!reader, virgin!reader, a bit of body dysmorphia, masturbation, pillow humping, fingering. reader was raised catholic but there is NO corruption kink or religious trauma here, let’s relax.

author’s note: I KNOW. i know there is a disclaimer on my pinned post that says i’m not posting anything new until may but i got this idea on the way back home so i rewarded myself by sitting down and writing it. this was supposed to be much dirtier when i first thought about it but it’s also kinda cute and sweet??? anyways it’s still pretty fucking dirty so for that person who mentioned they wanted inexperienced!reader, ENJOY. x

masterlist | ko-fi

[dividers by @benkeibear & @cafekitsune]

You didn’t need a babysitter, you were an adult.

You also didn't need your parents to change you to a different school, but they did. And now you had to wear this stupid uniform and ­not only that, but the fact that you had to be babysat by the son of your dad’s business partner was boiling your blood every passing second that you heard him breathe from the other side of your desk.

‘You know, you wouldn’t be having this problem if you didn’t try to sabotage the school.’ Steve said as you looked down at your copy of Great Expectations, trying to study.

You had spent the last half an hour letting out heavy sighs of irritation at him, and he was growing more annoyed at you every time he heard your little complaints.

‘Principal Mattews is a retrograde, nasty fascist and I don’t regret what I did to his office.’ You said with your eyes still focused on your homework.

From the corner of your eye, you saw him roll his eyes at you as he sat straighter on the chair of your desk. You could see the way his knee moved anxiously from the long mirror hanging on the wall, but you lowered your eyes as soon as you caught your own reflection.

When you arrived from school earlier in the afternoon, Steve was already downstairs in the living room waiting for you. You hadn’t had the time to change to your usual clothes and you were avoiding your reflection in your new uniform at all costs. You couldn’t stand the hem of the skirt, the way your thighs rubbed against each other, the white fabric of the shirt and the knee socks that made you look like an idiotic nerd. You would never get used to it, you despised it.

‘Well, good luck with the nuns.’ He said sarcastically. ‘M sure they’ll be less severe than Matthews.’

‘Oh, I’m sure they’ll soften up. Eventually.’ You smiled subtly, in what Steve would call that childish and cheeky way of yours that he couldn’t stand. He didn’t understand how you could be so careless about your life. You. The girl who had it all: beauty, brains, money and personality.

‘You know, you could make it really far if you weren’t always trying to be so tough.’ He said sincerely. His patronising tone only made you release a half-scoff, half-laugh thing that he didn’t find amusing at all.

‘I’m going to make it far, Steve.’ You said sitting up on the bed. ‘Not just because I’m smart, but for the same reason you’ll make it far.’ 

He sat back on the chair with his eyebrows lifted, waiting for your answer. Posture relaxed and legs open as he looked back at you in that pretty uniform he was starting to get fond of.

‘Nepotism.’ You simply said, moving so you could be laying on your front as you went back to your book.

The room went finally silent when you managed to concentrate again, and Steve kept doing his own homework. Your eyes were getting tired though, you could feel them getting dry and soon you’d have to search for your reading glasses, but you didn’t want Steve to see you wearing them, it was enough with him having to look at you in this skirt.

You sniffed a couple of times, blinking hard as you went back to the first paragraph of the page you were currently reading, following the line of words with your index finger so you wouldn’t get lost when you felt something fall on the mattress next to your hand.

‘You’re hurting your eyes.’ He said softly as you looked up at him, arms crossed over his chest and brown eyes fixed on yours.

You opened your mouth to thank him as you took the glasses case he had dropped on the bed, but you hesitated. The gesture made Steve sit next to you, his knee almost brushing your hip as he looked down at you.

‘Is it that bad?’ He asked then.

You let out a long sigh as you played with the case in your hands, and he saw it. The way all your anger melted into sadness and frustration.

‘I hate it.’ You admitted, ‘I never thought I’d say this, but I actually miss being around gross High School boys and wearing my own clothes to school. And the religion classes are killing the few braincells I’ve got left. I’m not even Catholic, my mom just likes to believe I am.’

Steve moved closer to you, trying to get you to look back at him, but you refused to. You hated how comforting it was to have him here with you, a little reminder of your days in Hawkins High. You were too proud to admit it, but what your parents had done really hurt you, and you were having a hard time trying to forgive them. Now you wouldn’t be able to graduate with your friends or go to prom together.

‘Well, if it makes you feel better, you are now hanging out with a gross schoolboy.’ He joked.

He saw the way the smile barely reached your eyes, but at least you found him funny.

‘Listen, I can just go home.’ He said then, as he observed the way you lay your head on your hand as your arm flexed on the bed. He looked very pretty with his eyelids all heavy over his brown eyes, you thought as you looked back at him. ‘This whole “babysitting” thing is ridiculous, anyways. You wouldn’t follow orders from me not even if I was wearing a cassock.’

This time you laughed loudly at his stupidity. You didn’t know how it was possible that he could tell you enjoyed it when he behaved like a dork. He smiled back at you, trying not to linger too much on the way your hair fell on the bed and how the top buttons of that tight white shirt secured the pretty black bra he knew you were wearing underneath.

‘Anyways,’ He sat up more comfortably as he took his car keys out of his pocket. ‘Take a break from studying, okay? Do something relaxing for once. You’re getting on my nerves.’

You smiled more widely this time, still laying on your front and looking back at him with your tired pretty eyes from behind your shoulder.

‘Like what?’ You said, voice hoarsely by the tiredness, all that reading without your glasses had left you exhausted.

He scoffed in that cocky way so typical of him as he shrugged.

‘I don’t know. Take a nap. Watch a movie. Masturbate.’

You blinked a couple of times at his cheekiness until you had no other option than to bite your lower lip that was dying to lift into a smile.

‘Right.’ You said licking your lips, feeling your cheeks growing hot. ‘Don’t know how to do the last one, but I’ll try the other two.’

‘What?’

You laughed, looking down at the interesting pattern of your bedsheets as your skin turned even hotter.

‘I—’

‘I have to say that’s very Catholic of you, sweetheart.’

You laughed nervously again, feeling his heavy brown stare on you.

‘I have tried, okay?’ You said softly. ‘It’s not as easy when you’re a girl.’

‘How have you tried?’ As soon as he said it you looked back at him. ‘I—I’m not trying to be creepy or anything like that.’ He brushed his hair with his fingers in nervousness. ‘I just— I’ve met girls who haven’t learned because they tried to finger themselves and, you now, when you’re a virgin— I mean, if you are a virgin— Not that it’s any of my business, but—’

You shook your head, pretty lips lifting in a soft smile. He couldn’t understand how it was possible that he was the one with more experience, and still you were making him nervous, melting for you without you even noticing.

‘I am a virgin.’ You admitted, looking straight into his eyes, a bit amused at the way he seemed to not know what to do with this information.

‘Huh.’ Was all that he could say.

A few seconds of tension passed while you enjoyed how speechless Steve Harrington seemed to be by such revelation, until you couldn’t keep making him suffer with your silence.

‘Do you want to teach me?’ You asked softly.

‘Huh?’ He repeated. This time it was obvious that there were no thoughts behind those brown eyes as his cheeks turned pinker every passing second.

‘Steve.’ You said your name so sweetly he’d do anything so you could say it like that again. ‘Do you want to teach me how to touch myself?’

‘I— I can do that.’ He said sitting up straighter as your smile grew wider. He couldn’t believe what a loser you were turning him into, feeling his dick turning hard just by the sound of your confident voice. He had to get his shit together. ‘Yeah, of course, sweetheart.’

‘Okay.’ You said then. You blinked a couple of times as the shyness took over your body, realising this was really happening. Finally. ‘W-What do I do?’

‘Right. Stay there.’ He stood up from the bed urgently, and you looked back at him behind your shoulder as he grabbed one of your pillows next to the bed frame. You held your breath when his open palm touched your lower back and he attempted to place the pillow between your legs. ‘Is this okay?’

You nodded, your voice was barely audible when you answered, feeling the excitement in the pit of your stomach.

‘Yeah.’

‘Lift your hips for me.’ He said with his burning palm still against your lower back, and you did as he said while he placed the pillow comfortably under you.

Steve placed his other hand on your hip, squeezing once. He smiled at you from his place behind you, an encouraging, sweet thing that twisted your guts in the most pathetic of ways. You smiled back, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel terrified. What if something was wrong with you and you just couldn't get yourself off?

‘I’ve tried this before.’ You admitted then. ‘It didn’t work.’

‘Right.’ He stroked your skin over your shirt, a comforting gesture that was surprisingly help you calm down. ‘Can you show me what did you do?’

You nodded, moving your face to your front so he wouldn’t look at it as you tried to enjoy the friction of your underwear against the soft pillow, but it wasn’t right. You were too nervous, feeling the subtle shake of your knees and knowing that you weren’t wet enough for it to feel good.

Steve heard you sigh, stopping your movements when they became too uncomfortable.

‘Hey.’ His hand wrapped around the back of your knee, fingers stroking subtly, making you look back at him again. ‘It’s fine. What you’re doing it’s not wrong.’

‘I-Is it not?’ You asked confused. ‘Then why—?’

‘I think you’re just being too rough.’ He said tenderly, ‘Can you sit back a little bit for me?’ You did as he said without thinking twice, and he put his hand on your lower back again, except this time the heel of his hand fell partly on your butt cheek. Your eyes couldn’t get away from the sight of his veiny hands. ‘Look.’

He pushed softly, guiding you in slow movements as your crotch barely brushed the fabric of the pillow. This time you didn’t look away, instead you just sighed softly at the sight of Steve guiding your hips so sensually and delicately. He heard the sobby breath you took the third time the pillow brushed your clothed pussy, and he saw that, by the way you blinked slowly while your shoulders dropped, you seemed to be finally relaxing.

‘Let’s get you wet, yeah?’ He murmured as his brown eyes studied your pretty face.

‘Yeah.’ You moaned softly. ‘Please.’

‘Lay down, baby.’ He said as one of his hands sneaked under your shirt and his fingers started to draw sweet circles on the soft skin of your lower back. ‘I’ll take care of you.’

‘Uh-uh.’ You did as he said, laying on your chest as you let him take control of your hips.

He could see the way a dark patch of wetness was slowly forming on your baby blue underwear, loving the way the pleats of the pretty skirt fell over your ass. He pushed you down softly onto the pillow, so your pussy could start to get used to the friction.

‘That’s it.’ He said encouragingly. ‘That’s it, baby. Look how at how wet you are.’ You heard him laugh softly, with such tenderness, that you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the pleasure. ‘Such a messy girl.’

His praise only made you moan as he felt you search for the friction yourself, hips moving slightly faster as the hand under your shirt still drew circles on your back. His eyes lingered on the dampness that was now leaking on the pillow, thin threads of wetness that made him swallow hard at the sight of your pretty cunt fucking the pillow underneath.

‘Fuck.’ He said under his breath. He couldn’t help but lift your skirt fully, squeezing your butt cheek with his hand as your movements grew a bit faster with his touch.

‘Steve.’ You called. When he lifted his eyes at you, the tightness under his pants turned even more unbearable. Hair messy, cheeks a bit sweaty, shiny eyes looking back at him as if this was just an absurd wet dream of his. ‘I—I think I’m losing it.’

He moved as soon as you stopped your movements, shutting your eyes hard and giving up to the frustration before he positioned himself so he would be hovering over you, chest against your back and one hand on the mattress as the other stayed on your hip.

‘Hey.’

Your lack of response made him lean in then, lips brushing your ear before leaving a soft kiss on your temple. The gesture made your eyes water in the cusp of your anxiety.

‘You’re doing amazing.’ He whispered on your ear with his velvet low-pitched voice. ‘And ‘m not leavin’ until you’ve cum at least twice.’

You opened your eyes, laughing softly. But he could feel the tint of bitterness behind it.

‘That’s ambitious.’ You said sarcastically. This is what you were terrified of, embarrassing yourself in front of him. And now you didn’t think you’d ever learn how to do this, or that you’d ever be able to look at his face again.

‘C’mon.’ He said burying his face on your neck, breathing in your perfume as his hand squeezed your hip again. ‘Close your eyes.’

You did as he said, taking a deep breath as you felt his hand leave your hip and his fingers stroking from your knee upwards. You couldn’t help but open your legs when his soft fingertips brushed your centre, feeling yourself getting wetter once again.

‘See?’ He whispered. ‘All this pretty pussy wants ‘s some love, baby.’

His words made you moan against your mattress, grabbing the bedsheets with your fist when his fingers pressed against your clothed lips, and he started rubbing softly. He couldn’t help but place his forehead against the back of your neck, as his frustration grew inside his pants every second you whimpered and shrunk on the bed. But he wasn’t going to let you notice. This was all about you.

‘Steve?’ You called in between deep breaths.

‘Hmm?’

‘C-Can I feel you?’

You heard him sigh deep against your neck while his fingers still rubbed the damp fabric of your panties, before his pelvis came in contact with your ass, and you felt him. All of him. Hard, bulky and warm against your body.

The contact made you both release a soft moan at the same time, and his fingers could no longer be merciful with you as he dared to put the fabric of your underwear aside and his fingertips found your puffy wet clit begging to be caressed and spoiled.

You were trembling underneath him, moaning so softly he had to lean back to look at your face. What Steve wasn’t expecting was catching the sight of your long mirror from the bed. His eyes weren’t able to stay away from the reflection: your beautiful face adorned by a desperate frown, looking angelically beautiful underneath his body as your toes curled and your knees shook, while your pussy got wetter and wetter under his fingers.

‘Look.’ He whispered in your ear as his eyes stayed on the mirror. You moved your neck slightly confused, until your eyes followed his and your gaze finally landed in the perfect image of his body over yours.

He saw you smile shyly through the mirror, and he couldn’t help but smile too.

‘Love how you look like this, you know?’ He whispered, and if you hadn’t been looking at his reflection on the mirror you would’ve sworn you’d made up those words inside your head. ‘That pretty face. Those – Fuck, those cheekbones I love. And this fucking uniform is makin’ me insane.’

He could feel you now moving your hips again as you looked at yourself in the mirror. The way the skirt looked so nicely lifted up, how the shirt hugged your curves, and the shape of your legs underneath the knee socks. Steve took the opportunity to remove his fingers as your hips sank against the pillow once again and you got lost in your own pleasure.

You opened your mouth as you felt yourself getting more sensitive and stimulated, feeling his cock against your ass but unable to keep your eyes off your reflection, enticed by the way you looked, by the movement of your hips, and the things your body was capable of doing, of feeling.

‘Oh.’ You moaned as your fists found the sides of the pillows, holding it in place so it’d be easier to rub yourself shamelessly against it. ‘I— Fuck.’

Steve stayed as silent as he could, looking at the way you slowly started to convulse while you mouth stayed open prettily and your moans turned desperate, tinted by the surprise of what you were experiencing. His hips melted against yours, following your rhythm as you kept fucking your now soaked pillow, until the walls of your pussy finally tightened, and you let out an exhausted moan as the sweet orgasm finally hit you.

He let you enjoy it, indulging in it as you rubbed yourself against the pillow a couple of times more before pressing your thighs together to preserve the throbbing feeling. When you started to come back to reality with heavy breaths, you felt his mouth against your neck and a sweet smile lifting his lips even if you couldn’t see him.

You rolled on your back, avoiding his eyes for a second before they ventured to meet his brown pupils.

‘You good?’ He said nodding towards you, trying to be nonchalant but foolishly failing at it. You laughed softly as he caged you with his arms, face hovering over yours as he tried to read you better.

‘I am good.’ You said, not sure of what to do or how to proceed after this. His eyes lingered on your mouth when you bit your lower lip and your eyes turned shy again. ‘I— Thank you.’

He shook his head softly, taking in the image of your after-lust beauty. His touched surprised you when his hand cupped your face, but you welcomed it warmly when his thumb stroked one of your cheekbones, feeling yourself melting against him.

‘You don’t need to thank me.’ He whispered, looking back at you. He licked his lips, hesitating before talking again. ‘I’ve missed you. Back at school. ‘S not the same without you.’

You blinked softly at his words, holding his hand against your cheek as if he’d disappear any second now.

But he wasn’t going anywhere.

‘Really?’

Steve leaned in to answer your question then. His lips brushed yours subtly before he kissed you softly, sensually so you wouldn’t forget the mess you had turned into minutes ago. His patient tongue stroked yours as he released a deep sigh and his hand, still wet with your dampness, interlaced your fingers over your bedsheets.

‘Really.’ He smiled when he laned back to look at you with his heavy eyelids and his tired love-drunk eyes. ‘Maybe we should really sabotage those nuns.’

You couldn’t help but laugh loudly at his joke. Knowing that you were gone, so gone.

🏷️: @thytorturedpoet @ellharrington

I do no consent for people to plagiarise, translate, copy or repost any of my written works anywhere. I do not consent people to use any of my written work for AI purposes.

#steve harrington #❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

[wildxwidow]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: The collection of letters that Bradley received from the fourth grade class provides him with entertainment while deployed. He takes the time to answer their questions and send a package back to the United States via air mail. But he has your email address. He also has a bit of a crush and some questions himself.

Warnings: Fluff, language

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

A few days later, when Bradley was done with his training protocols for the day, he returned to his bunk with a different mission in mind. While he unzipped his flight suit, he eyed the box which was taking up most of his nightstand, and a smile found its way to his lips. He managed to find a notebook that nobody wanted along with a thick, padded envelope, and he was going to take the time to respond to the fourth graders who wrote to him. 

He'd spent hours poring over the letters, laughing at some of the questions from the kids and frequently picking up that one photo. He couldn't stop going back for more. For another look at you. Just one more look. Okay, this really was the last one. He had to toss it across the small room toward his duffel so he could focus on something other than your smile and the fact that he might have a tiny crush on a fourth grade teacher who knew absolutely nothing about him. Yet.

The note from Jayden was on the top, and Bradley opened it up and started to jot down a response.

Jayden,

It was so nice to hear from you and the rest of your class. To answer your pertinent questions, I am currently stationed on the USS Theodore Roosevelt. The most disgusting food in the mess hall is easily the cabbage rolls (which taste nothing like cabbage... or rolls). The best food in the mess hall is surprisingly the meatloaf. And yes, I would love to see a photo of your Cocker Spaniel. Please send one next time. I hope you're studying and doing your best in school.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The next note he decided to tackle was the one from Violet who had the tiniest handwriting he'd ever seen. The page had at least fifteen questions written out, but he decided to answer just a few for her. He had to squint as he skimmed through them again.

Violet,

You seem very inquisitive. That's a great quality to have, especially if you want to be a pilot someday. No, I did not attend the Naval Academy. I went to the University of Virginia. Yes, the Navy is way better than the Air Force. Yes, I can hold my breath underwater for three minutes. Yes, they actually made me do it. No, I don't think I could make it as a Navy SEAL. Yes, I have been staying hydrated and getting enough sun, thanks so much for asking. Keep studying hard, because you have a lot of school ahead of you before officer training.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

Okay, so this was actually a lot of fun. Up next was a response to the note from Oliver, which made Bradley laugh every time he looked at it. 

Oliver,

Thank you so much for drawing the different Naval aircrafts for me. I hate to break it to you, but I actually do not fly the F-35 Lightning II. Yes, I know they look 'sickeningly cool'. Yes, I know it would be like 'slam dunking off the back of a dragon'. I guess I never knew I was jealous of those pilots until right now.... But I fly the equally cool if not quite as sickening looking F/A-18 Super Hornet. And yes, I would be more than happy to draw my own version of one for you. See below.

Lt. Bradley Bradshaw

The ten minutes he spent replicating his own aircraft to the best of his ability for Oliver churned out a pretty damn good result. He fished his phone out of the nightstand and took a picture to email to Nat when he had time, because she would find this whole thing amusing. Then he reached for the letters from Harrison, Nia and Jackie. He wrote his responses, and after a bit, he had a decent sized stack of letters all ready to go back to the fourth graders.

After a few more days, he worked his way through the entire class, and each kid would soon have a handwritten response on the way. He just needed to figure out what he wanted to say to you. The pretty teacher from the class photo that he now kept tucked in with his personal items. He worked on that one last, writing your full name at the top of the page and wishing you didn't go by the very non-specific Ms. which gave him zero clue as to whether or not you were married.

The package you sent was the nicest piece of deployment mail I have ever received. Thank you. I'm lucky it ended up in my hands. I'm impressed by how much all of your students have learned about aviation this year. I just hope I did them justice in regards to the questions they had for me.

I also hope you don't mind that I replied to each kid individually. They had some very amusing stories and questions, and I wanted to acknowledge all of them. But there was one question in particular that I was asked so many times, I thought I'd answer it here instead. My call sign is kind of a silly one, so it's okay if you all laugh. I go by Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, and my helmet is mostly red, yellow and black.

Your kids seem like a fun bunch, but I bet they keep you on your toes. Feel free to let them know they can write back to me again, but please include my name on the package this time. I don't know that I'd be lucky enough to have it fall into my hands again by chance. I'll just be here somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean for a few more months, ready to answer any questions you throw at me. Hope to hear back from you soon.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The following day, he packed everything up and dropped it off with the rest of the ship's outgoing mail. There was a rumor that a helicopter would be coming to pick it up in the next day or two, and he wanted to make sure it got back to California and those fourth graders as soon as possible. On his way back to his bunk, Bradley stopped by the lounge to see if there was an iPad free, hoping to send a quick email or two. He was in luck. He also happened to have your email address memorized.

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

You yawned at your desk and checked the time on your computer. Within the next ten minutes, your classroom would go from silent solitude to mass chaos, so you took a minute to clear out your email inbox. You had a few messages from some parents and a reminder about Spirit Week from the superintendent. And a random piece of junk mail that must have slipped through the spam filters. You didn't know anyone with a US Navy email address, and you didn't know anyone named Bradley Bradshaw.

As you closed your laptop, you gasped and tried to pry it back open again as quickly as you could. The Navy! The package you sent a few weeks ago! Maybe it was someone writing back to your class! Of course it could just be someone saying they were sorry that they didn't have time to engage with your students, but you figured even that was better than nothing. 

"Come on," you whispered, entering your credentials again before your inbox reappeared on your screen. The email was just a few lines long, but it was addressed to you by name. You were smiling immediately as you read it.

I just wanted to let you know that I got the mail you sent to a deployed Naval Aviator. There's a package on its way to your school for your class. It should arrive in about a week or two. Your fourth graders provided me with several hours of entertainment, and I hope they find my answers to their many (and amusing) questions useful. Thanks for the laughs, and thanks for the photos, too. Can't tell you how much I've been enjoying them. Hope to hear from all of you again.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

You squealed and pumped your fists in the air. Someone actually got the box! And he actually responded! The other, older teachers thought you were just wasting your time when you deviated from the lesson plans a bit. Literally all of them said there was no way anyone would write back, even though you took the time to go through the proper channels at Top Gun on North Island. But now you could rub it in their faces, all thanks to Bradley Bradshaw who sounded like he'd had as much fun with this whole thing as your class had.

Then your day really started as Violet and Oliver burst into your classroom, calling out your name with excitement in their voices. The rest of your kids followed behind them, already asking about the plans for the day and what kind of adventure you'd be taking them on in each subject. 

When you clapped your hands twice and said, "Good morning," they all clapped and replied with their own greeting, and then they sat quietly with their gazes fixed on you. "Guess who I just got an email from!"

"The president!" 

"My grandma!"

"My Cocker Spaniel!"

"Oliver's grandma!"

You just shook your head and tried not to laugh as you said, "None of the above. But do you remember when we wrote and packed up those letters for a real aviator in the military to read?" Most of the kids nodded, so you added, "Well, he emailed us! And he sent us some mail that should arrive in about a week!"

And telling them that was a mistake. Because you didn't know a moment of peace after that. Every morning, you had kids rushing into the room to see if the promised piece of mail arrived yet. Every day you had to disappoint them, but you were finding yourself a little disappointed, too. You wanted to know what this Bradley Bradshaw guy sent back. 

You'd responded to his initial email letting him know you and the kids in your class were delighted to hear from him and that you would let him know when the mail he sent arrived at your school. He didn't respond, but you figured he was busy. Too busy to constantly muck about with your class while he was thousands of miles away on a deployment. 

And that was what left you standing at your desk with your mouth hanging open in awe when the padded envelope did finally arrive one morning. Because when you carefully cut it open, you found not just one letter to the class but individual handwritten notes, one for each child.

"Wow," you whispered, pulling the note with your name written on the top out of the stack. This man seemed humble and sweet, and his letter made you laugh in more than one spot as you read through it. Then you read it again. He sounded apologetic about responding to each individual kid, but you felt like your insides were melting. Who would do that? Who would take the time to give individual attention to a bunch of nine and ten year olds besides you? And you were technically getting paid to do it. 

Bradley Bradshaw seemed willing to continue to engage with your kids, and you weren't going to stop him. Because starting that morning, he became something of a legend to your class. A celebrity. A real lieutenant in the Navy replied to all of their silly questions, and their love of aviation just grew from there. You figured you were going to have to keep your lesson plans going a bit longer while their faces lit up as you walked around the room and handed them each their notes. You had taken the time to skim them beforehand, often laughing at his sense of humor which seemed to jump off the pages.

"Can we write back to him?" Jayden asked as everyone read their notes from Lieutenant Bradshaw. "I have more questions."

You smiled and nodded. "Yes, you may write back to him." Then you postponed your geology lesson until the next day and let them spend the next forty minutes writing some followup letters. You took some pictures of them diligently toiling away at their desks, excitement on their faces. Then you bit your lip and sat down at your own desk.

As you started to construct an email letting him know the envelope had arrived, your thoughts drifted to what he might be like. Humble and sweet, for sure. But he also made it a point to tell you that the box from your class was the best piece of mail he'd ever received while deployed. Maybe he was a little bit lonely. Maybe he was single. Maybe he was stationed on the west coast. Your thoughts started to get ahead of you, and it was hard to reel them in when you imagined him excited to see another email from you. Smiling when he was handed another box from your class during mail call.

Dear Lt Bradley Bradshaw,

We got the envelope from you today, and my kids are absolutely thrilled! I'm not sure if you know how hard it can be to wrangle eighteen fourth graders all at one time, but they are currently sitting quietly and working on new letters for you to read. Once again, please don't feel obligated to continue correspondence if you're too busy. I'm sure you have other people you could be writing to who want your attention as well. I just wanted you to know they are overjoyed that a Naval officer took the time to answer their questions about aviation.

I have attached some photos as proof that they are sitting still. Thanks again for making their day.

You signed your name at the bottom the way you always would from your work email account, and then you attached the photos. After a brief debate about adding the selfie you took with Violet where most of your face was visible, you decided to just go for it. Adding it to the mix wouldn't hurt anything. It wasn't like this semi mystery man would be up all night thinking about you. 

But you found that you were still thinking about him when you went home to your silent house and made dinner that evening. Maybe he was a little bit lonely, but maybe you were, too.

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

It was amazing how infrequently Bradley found himself thinking about Vanessa. He was busier now with his duties picking up a bit more as his deployment wore on, but even when he was tired and in his bunk at night, his thoughts seldom settled on her like he was afraid they might. He didn't miss her or her half-hearted emails, and he wasn't craving the connection of reunion sex with her. 

Instead, he was thinking about what a group of fourth graders were learning about this week and what their cute teacher was up to. It had been a few days since you emailed him, letting him know that his package was delivered to your school. You made it sound like the kids were excited that he sent it in the first place, and when he really thought about it, he supposed some officers would have just eaten the snacks and tossed the notes in the trash.

He didn't reply to the email yet, still thrown off a bit by the pictures you attached. Your classroom was vibrant, and the kids were absorbed as they worked on more notes for him to read whenever they happened to be delivered to the carrier. But the photo with you in it held his attention longer than it should have. The fact that you were working at a school that was just a handful of miles from his damn house made him feel warm.

But what would he do about it? What could he do about it? Nothing. He didn't want you to think he was creepy. He still knew essentially nothing else about you. The only thing he could do was keep it friendly if not professional. Unless of course you did something to push the boundaries of conversation into a more personal realm. God, if you did....he didn't think he would be able to handle it. 

The next day, when he was heading out on deck to talk to the mechanics who were doing regular maintenance on the aircrafts, he took his phone. "Hey, you mind if I take a few photos of some of the engine parts? I want to send them to a class of fourth graders who will think it's cool."

"Go ahead, Lieutenant," the head mechanic replied. Then he smiled and asked, "You dating a teacher?"

Well. Wouldn't that be something? Bradley would never run out of curious pen pals. He would always have some fourth graders to take interesting photos for and to send notes to. He'd always have a classroom to visit as soon as he got home from a deployment.

He couldn't help but picture you as the teacher.

"Nothing like that," he replied, his voice a little gravelly. "Just writing to some kids who are learning about aviation."

After dinner, when he had a chance to use an iPad in the lounge, he did his best to put together a response to your email that would at least hint at the curiosity he felt. 

If all it takes is mail from three thousand miles away to get your class to sit quietly, then I should probably be writing to you every day. But I'm sure you're a great teacher. That's a given considering how much your students learned and shared with me. And I can assure you that I'm more than happy to take the time to write to your class. And you. Please don't think I feel obligated, because I do not. I want to.

I have attached a few pictures of some F/A-18 engine components as well as some of my cockpit controls. Each photo is labeled, but please let me know if you have any questions.

It was nice hearing from you.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw 

As soon as he hit send, he wanted to kick himself. Should he have included a photo of his face like you had twice now? Or did he already sound too desperate to hear from you and your class again?

"Shit," he muttered, looking around the lounge as if there was going to be someone here proficient in the art of getting to know a fourth grade teacher without sounding stupid. But it was too late now. All he could do was wait for the next mail call or hope you decided to write back to his ramblings by the next time he checked his email. 

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

You were going to have to scrape your jaw off the floor. You had no idea what this man's face even looked like, but his hands were... something else. And his thighs... well, they were pretty great, too. It must have been too long since you got laid, because you were sitting at your desk in your classroom staring at the set of photos in your inbox, currently unable to look away from his right hand. It was wrapped around the throttle of his aircraft. It was elegant with attractive veins and rough calluses. You were sure that you were supposed to be focusing on the cockpit controls, but all you could see was that hand and his thick, muscular thighs below.

The next photo was no better for you. He was holding up his helmet with his call sign Rooster emblazoned across the front, and you were able to see his left ring finger. There was no wedding band. There was no evidence of an outline where a wedding band would belong. There was just his big, strong hand.

You whimpered softly while your students worked on their math tests. You couldn't help it as you took one last look before logging out of your email account. And now you needed to know if his face matched the very attractive image you had in your mind. 

When Jayden called your name, you rocketed to your feet like you'd been caught red handed. "Yes?" you squeaked, your voice sounding higher pitched than usual.

"I'm done with my test. May I have the hall pass and use the restroom?"

You handed it to him as the rest of your class finished working through the math problems. A few minutes later, when you collected the papers from them, Violet asked, "When is Lieutenant Bradshaw going to write back to us?"

It had only been a few days since you mailed him the second box of notes and some more snacks, but it made you happy that they were all so invested in learning more from him. 

"It will probably be a few weeks before we get anything in the mail. However... he did email me some pictures of engine and cockpit parts from the aircraft carrier for me to share with you guys." When you looked around the room, the kids were on the edges of their seats, excited expressions on their faces. With a laugh you added, "I was going to wait until tomorrow and use the projector to show them all to you, but if you're very well behaved for the rest of the afternoon, maybe I could pull them up on my computer for you to see them today."

Not two hours later, you were just as excited as the kids were to look at the photos... again. As they crowded around your desk, you opened up the first one of the cockpit to a barrage of questions. 

"Is that really his jet?"

"Is that the throttle?"

"What do all the buttons do?"

"Was this right before he flew it?"

Once again you were distracted, but you managed to click over to the next photo, and the kids gasped in delight. 

"His helmet is so cool!"

"It says Rooster!"

"That's his call sign!"

"Red is my favorite color!"

You just smiled softly and laughed. "Should we go ahead and start working on another list of questions for him?" you asked as you slowly scrolled through the rest of the pictures. "He said we can write back to him as much as we want to." When everyone cheered, you handed Oliver a marker and pointed to the board at the front of the classroom. "Let's start making a list."

You listened to all of your students call out questions for Bradley while Oliver wrote them down. Then Violet asked, "Can he send us a picture of his whole jet? From the outside of it?"

You cleared your throat and added, "Maybe he could get someone else to take the picture so he could stand in front of it. For size comparison."

Violet nodded, but you knew you were a fraud. Sure, it would be great for the kids to understand just how massive the F/A-18s were compared to an actual person, but you were the one who wanted to see all of Bradley. You were itching for it now. 

Later that night, you drank most of a bottle of wine and did something you promised yourself you'd never do. You logged into your work email account after nine o'clock. You skipped over the handful of unread emails from parents and clicked on the icon to compose a new message. With your liquid courage goading you on, you typed up a response to Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw and hit send before you could think twice.

Thank you for the photos. They were very enlightening. We especially liked the ones where you were showing off your cockpit. Or I did, anyway. The kids liked all of them and started on another list of questions for you. Good luck getting rid of us now. 

We were wondering if you could have someone take a picture of you standing in front of your jet. For size comparison purposes. And also because my students would like to know what you look like. Hearing from you makes our day even better.

You couldn't believe how forward you were being with this man who you'd never even met in person, but you fell asleep thinking about his hands and what they might be capable of.

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

This Bradley makes me swoon. I've never wanted to be a fourth grade teacher so badly in my life. There is something that's starting to blossom between them even though they haven't even met in person. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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#lover boy rooster #if you aren’t reading this series. what are you doing?

[wildxwidow]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 1 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After Bradley finally breaks things off with his girlfriend just days before the start of a deployment, he expects a few lonely months of nobody writing to him or waiting for his return. But the fateful arrival of a package from a class of fourth graders learning about aviation changes everything.

Warnings: Fluff, language, breakup angst

Length: 2200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley had his duffle bag open on his bed, tidy stacks of his uniform components, flight suits, and underwear lined up next to it. He had his checklist in front of him. He liked to be as organized as possible.

"Are you even listening to me? I thought we were going out to dinner."

He looked up from his partially packed toiletry bag into the annoyed eyes of Vanessa where she stood on the other side of the bed. He was seven months into this relationship, and sometimes he wondered why either of them still bothered. She knew his routine by now. She knew what his deployments were like, but she had absolutely no patience for any of it.

"Ness, I'm leaving in four days. I just need to focus on this for a few minutes so I know what I need to buy before Wednesday, and then we can go out and eat."

"It's already seven o'clock. I thought you'd have finished packing by now," she replied with a pout and a glare. "Every nice restaurant is going to have a long wait now, because I'm just going to go ahead and assume that you didn't make a reservation anywhere."

He took a deep breath and let it out before pressing his lips together. What he really wanted was to order something for delivery, cuddle on the couch, watch a movie and have the first round of hot, goodbye sex. But she'd never go for it now. Apparently he'd already fucked up for the night. 

"No, I didn't make a reservation," he said calmly, and she rolled her eyes and reached for her phone. "I really don't even feel like going out. I'll be gone for months, stuck in a tiny bunk or a loud mess hall. I'd like to stay in tonight where it's quiet. Just me and you."

But she wasn't listening at all. "Let me see if Woodmere has any tables left," she muttered. "If not there, then I can try The Landmark." She looked as beautiful as she always did, but he couldn't even stand the sight of her right now.

"Ness. I want to stay in."

She groaned and looked him in the eye. "Of course you do. You always want to stay in. You always want to decompress or read a book. That's not healthy, you know that, right? I shouldn't have to force you out of your comfort zone all the time."

"Fuck," he grunted, running his fingers through his hair. His job was demanding, both mentally and physically. He usually preferred quiet over loud, because his own thoughts started to buzz when she dragged him out all over the place. And now she was glaring at him again. "Are you even going to miss me?" he asked softly, afraid of the answer. "You haven't said so one time since I told you about this deployment."

She heaved a deep and annoyed sigh. "You're deployed so frequently, Bradley, it's like you're the government's bitch. And if the Navy is going to insist upon eating up taxpayer money, the least they could do is pay you more."

His skin started to crawl as she went off about his career like always, but he'd honestly had enough. He raised his voice louder and asked once again, "Are you even going to miss me?"

Vanessa scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Of course I'm going to miss you. What kind of question is that? I'll be bored every weekend, waiting for you to get back, like usual. I almost never go out when you're deployed."

Bradley's heart started to pound in a way that made his palms sweat and his stomach turn. "Jesus, Vanessa. I asked if you're going to miss me. Not miss going out every weekend."

When she hesitated for a beat, he reached out to brace his hand on his headboard. "Yes, Bradley. I am going to miss you. Okay? Happy?"

"Fuck, no. I'm not happy Vanessa." And that was the bottom line right there. The absolute truth. And it didn't hurt to say it, rather he immediately felt better. He knew he would miss the sporadic emails and the phone calls and the dirty pictures and the reunion sex. The upcoming weeks would be harder without those things to look forward to, but at least he'd come home to his own place where he could do what he wanted instead of what he was told. He wouldn't have to listen to her negativity. "I think we need to break up."

Her eyes went wide with shock. "Excuse me?"

Bradley let go of the bed and ran his hand over his face. "You heard me, Ness. This isn't working. For either of us."

"Don't call me Ness," she snapped, immediately turning toward his bedroom door. "You're not my boyfriend anymore." She paused briefly, just long enough to say, "Fuck you," and then she was gone. 

He sat on the edge of his bed for a couple minutes, but it didn't take long to sort through his feelings. The immediate sense of calm that he felt had him convinced he'd done the right thing. There was no shared living space. There was no ring. There was no real commitment. Maybe he'd always known why that was the case. 

So he packed up his bag and made a shopping list, and when his stomach started to growl, he ordered dinner for himself from his favorite restaurant. He didn't cry, and he didn't worry about having to do anything he didn't want to do.

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

The first few weeks of his deployment were great. He spent a lot of time in the air, and he flirted a bit with some of the women who approached him in the gym on the aircraft carrier. He jerked off while he thought about whomever he fucking wanted to. He didn't spend very much time reflecting on his relationship with Vanessa other than to acknowledge that it wasn't much of a relationship at all. In the moments where he thought maybe he missed her, he realized he just missed the idea of having someone who cared about him.

He was about a month in when he realized the attractive woman who always touched his arm in the gym was actually married, and he was not all about that. He was also maybe kind of getting tired of masturbating which was a depressing thought. He was bored, and he was lonely, and other than randomly hooking up with someone, he figured his best bet was finding a book or something to read. 

When he made his way to dinner, he heard everyone talking about the helicopter that had landed on deck less than an hour ago stacked full of containers of mail. There was a line of officers trailing down the hallway adjacent to the mess hall, everyone waiting patiently to pick up parcels from their loved ones. Since Bradley had basically nobody who would think to write to him, he made his way toward the food instead. 

His tray was piled high with everything he could get his hands on, and when he looked for somewhere to sit, he had to deftly avoid that stacked lieutenant who had a husband at home. He found a table off in the corner and devoured his dinner alone. When he stood to drop off his empty dishes and tray, some petty officers entered the cavernous room to drop off unclaimed mail. 

"Harper, Jonathan! Pauley, Vincent! Dixon, Jennifer! Sutter, Wesley! Bradshaw, Bradley!"

He was more than a little intrigued as he made his way up along with a handful of others, and then a white envelope and a small cardboard box were thrust into his hands. The envelope was addressed to him by name in familiar chicken scratch that made him smile. He shouldn't have counted Natasha out, especially when his birthday was in a few days. 

He tore into the envelope as he made his way back to his bunk. It contained a very short letter along with a coupon for buy one get one free steak dinners at her favorite restaurant with a post-it stuck to the back. 

This is your birthday present. Now when you take me out for my birthday when you get home, you only have to pay half as much. You're welcome.

He snorted as he unlocked his bunk door and tossed everything from Nat onto the small nightstand. And then he examined the box. It wasn't addressed to him. Not really. It was addressed to 'A Deployed US Naval Aviator' in tidy handwriting. Then he noticed the return address was from an elementary school in Mira Mesa, and his curiosity got the best of him.

Bradley sat on the edge of his bed and tore gently into the packaging to find the box was jam packed with items and overflowing with envelopes. He tipped the box, and everything went cascading out onto his narrow bed. There were a lot of snacks, and a pack of trail mix caught his eye, making his stomach growl.

"I just fed you," he muttered but ripped into the snack anyway, dumping half of it into his mouth in one go. He was eyeing the envelopes carefully, each one distinctly unique. Some had names written on them, and some had little doodles or pictures, but they definitely seemed to be from a class of kids who went to the school. He sifted through them until he found a slightly larger, more official looking envelope which once again said To: A Deployed US Naval Aviator.

He finished his snack, silently thanking the class of kids and their teacher, and then he opened the big envelope. He pulled out a typed up letter which was folded around a few photos that slid onto his lap. Then he started to read.

Dear United States Naval Aviator,

First of all, thank you for your service. Second, let us introduce ourselves. We are one of the fourth grade classes from Mira Mesa Elementary School, and we have been learning all about aviation for the last month or so. We have combined our science, math and social studies classes into one unit all about flying, and we have learned so much. We really wanted to share some of what we learned with you in the hopes that you might be able to help us learn even more!

Each student in the class has included a letter filled with information and some questions. If you have some free time and are inclined to do so, we would love to hear back from you. (No pressure!) There are plenty of thoughtful questions that my students would appreciate more information about. (Once again, only if you want to!) And I for one would love to give them the chance to show off what they learned to a professional. (I'm just a proud teacher!)

Thank you very much for indulging our curiosity thus far, and we hope to hear back from you. I'll include my email address just in case you have any questions or would prefer to reply that way. Otherwise you can send mail directly to the address for the school along with my name, and it will get to us. We hope we are about to dazzle you with our letters, and we wish you well on your deployment.

Sincerely,

The best fourth graders you will ever meet along with their teacher

Bradley was chuckling as he finished reading. Of course he would take the time to look at all of the notes from the kids and send back a response. It wasn't like he'd be tied up talking to Vanessa. This little project would keep him busy when he had nothing else to do, and besides, this was the kind of shit he would have thought was outlandishly cool when he was a fourth grader himself. 

He read and reread the name and accompanying email address at the bottom of the page. This teacher sounded charming, and he'd only read three paragraphs from her. He flipped the page over to double check that she hadn't written anything more, already wishing she had. Then he picked up the photos that had landed on his thigh and started to flip through them.

First he saw a group of kids outside in the bright San Diego sunlight, lined up and throwing paper airplanes. Then he flipped to one where some of the kids were sitting at their desks building more elaborate planes out of pieces of foam. There was another photo of the class on some sort of field trip, but it was the last photo in the stack that had him sitting up a little taller and taking a closer look.

"Damn."

The kids were all lined up once again, wearing a rainbow of colors, some making silly faces. But his eyes caught on their teacher. On you. Smiling back at him from the photo like you had an amusing secret. Like you wanted to share it with him.

"Fucking gorgeous."

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

And, we're off. Oh, he thinks we are cute. Oh, he is about to be charmed even more. Thanks for pushing me out of my comfort zone a little bit with this one, and thank you @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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#lover boy rooster #series fic rec

[wildxwidow]

Drive Me Crazy - Chapter 7.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 2041

Warnings Mentions of fainting/panic attack, this one has a little bit of an angsty theme to it, but there's still a bit of fluff at the end.

Huge thank you to the Anon who sent this in! They had such amazing words to say about my writing which I massively appreciate and then to top it off, had an incredible request for me! I only have experience with mechanics in the UK, so I’ve tried my best with this one! “I just recently got interested in Travis K. X reader stories and wanted to let you know, I read all of yours as quickly as I could. They are so well done and I couldn’t help but laugh/giggle and feel through each word you typed out. You’re doing amazing and I’m so glad to have stumbled onto your page. If you have any space for a request, I’d be curious about what Trav would think about having a military (like fighter pilot) or engineer or mechanic girlfriend. I see a lot of stories with him paired with models/singers/social media individuals (which are phenomenal!) but just wondering how he would be with a more tomboy like girlfriend!”

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

"Wooooooh!" Your Dad bellowed as he raised his clenched fists into the air.

You glanced around the viewing box as a couple of other people were watching and smiling at him, "I'm sorry, he's really excited." You nodded.

"This is so awesome!" He beamed back at you, "I can't believe I'm here!"

You grinned and leaned in closer to him, straining your voice over the music, "Well, believe it, it's happening!"

Gripping your plastic tumbler of beer, your wide eyes scanned the stadium as thousands of fan poured into the stadium, filling their seats. There was a sea of red and white clad supporters below you, all anxiously waiting for the game to start. As you took a quick sip of your drink, a loud and low voice boomed in your ears.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Your Kansas City Chiefs!"

The stadium roared as several dozen pumped up men spilled out onto the field, running and jumping in the air to hype up the crowd. Your gaze danced around them until it finally settled onto Travis, who was jogging out close to Patrick, speaking in his ear. They stopped and Travis lifted his knee to begin warming up, his eyes checking the stands. When he finally looked in your direction, your stomach gave a flutter and he waved gently towards you.

Your Dad nudged you playfully with his elbow and you felt your cheeks flush bright red. The excitement built up in your stomach as the floor rumbled with noise, the atmosphere thick with anticipation. The Las Vegas Raiders were the Chiefs' biggest rivals, and with 71 wins against them behind their belts, the Chiefs were preparing for a another one to add to the list.

As the game began, you noticed that your eyes always seemed to drift to Travis. You were watching the game, but there was something about him that drew you in. He was showman, giving the crowd what they wanted and every play was a spectacle. Your Dad was fully immersed, shouting and cheering at every necessary opportunity and it warmed your heart to see him so happy. His kind eyes sparkled like a child at Christmas and by the time half time had rolled around, he had already made a friend in a gentleman next to him.

"Hey, Pop." You leaned closer to him and placed your hand on his shoulder, "I'm heading for another beer, do you want one?"

"Yes please, Sport." He reached into his jeans pocket, "And get one for my friend here."

You smiled and nodded, ducking out of the viewing box, grabbing your bag on the way out. As you paced through the corridors, the roaring sounds of the stadium surrounding you, you pulled your phone from your pocket to check Instagram. You scrolled a few times before your heart stopped as your eyes settled on a post. It was a photograph, although blurry, showing Travis leaning across a small table in a booth to kiss you. You swiped across where there was another picture of the two of you leaving the bar, your hand clasped in his and his gaze fixed on you. You hesitated for a second before tapping on the comments.

"He's dating her???? He can do better."

"I swear she serviced my car last week, not exactly girlfriend material."

"Travis should be dating someone waaay hotter than her."

"She's giving tomboy...and not in a good way."

Moisture quickly flooded your eyes and blurred your vision. You threw your phone back into your purse as you blinked hard, tears rolling down your cheeks. The crowd noises suddenly became muffled and you felt your chest become heavy, your breathing quickening it's pace.

"Are you okay?" A concerned voice said to your right.

You lifted your head as you stumbled back towards the wall, your fingers feeling the cool painted brick.

"Ummm...yeah, thanks." Was all you could manage through your dizzying haze, a numbing sensation spreading from your chest to your face. Your hands pressed against the wall behind you and kept you upright as your mind whirred with the words you had just read.

"Are you sure? I could go and get someone if-"

You sniffed loudly and wiped away some of the moisture that had stained your cheeks with the sleeve of your sweater, "No, no. Honestly, I'm fine. Thank you, anyway."

The stranger kept his gaze on you for a little longer, concern strewn across his face before disappearing around the corner of the corridor. You took some deep breaths, rubbing the underneath of your eyes a few more times before rolling your shoulders back and heading towards the bar.

You knew that you probably weren't Travis' usual type and the sudden attention was something you had been apprehensive about. But Travis had sucked you into his life, something drew you to him without your knowledge and now you were fully in the deep end. The comments had not only hurt your feelings, but had confirmed something you were afraid of. Rejection.

"What can I get for you?"

"He can do better."

"I'll take three beers please."

"Not exactly girlfriend material."

"Sure, coming up."

"Not in a good way."

The words span around in your mind, your chest becoming heavy again with your laboured breathing. Your fingers fumbled with the opening of your purse, trying desperately to find your wallet but your skin tingled, the numbness returning.

As the three plastic cups of beer were placed on the bar top in front of you, you noticed that your vision was blurring and you were becoming unsteady. You inhaled deeply in an attempt to secure as much oxygen as you could before your legs gave way and you found yourself slumped on the floor, your elbow throbbing in pain from hitting it against the hard walled surface behind you. Two bartenders rushed to your side, their faces appearing in your foggy vision with expressions filled with concern.

"I'm fine...I'm fine." You mumbled, holding your hands out to try and lift yourself from the ground.

"I think we should get someone." A bright female voice stated confidently, "Aaron, go and get someone from medical."

"Honestly, I'm fine."

She placed her hand firmly on your shoulder, "You're not going anywhere, okay? We going to get you looked at."

As you rested your head against the wall behind you, your eyes floated closed and a warm feeling filled your body, blackness drifting in.

______________________________________________________________

"Really, I'm fine."

"That's all she keeps saying."

"Because I am!" You laughed, shaking your head and looking away.

"You hit your head."

"I hit my elbow."

The bartender had called for an Emergency Medical Technician to check you over, bringing you behind the bar and into the staff area as crowds were beginning to form in the bar during half time. Half time was over now though, and you could hear the game ramping up again.

The EMT continued to check your blood pressure, "Okay, okay. This will only take a few more minutes and we can see what's going on here. You see, people don't just collapse for no reason, Miss."

You rubbed your forehead, "I know. But I'm okay now, I just had a moment."

"Your blood pressure is quite high, this game must be really exciting."

You looked down at the floor, "Something like that."

"That could explain why you collapsed." The EMT furrowed his brow, his apprehensive gaze fully fixed on you, "Are you sure you're okay?"

You rolled your eyes slightly, "For the hundredth time, I'm fine."

The EMT glanced towards the female bartender and then back at you, "Okay. But I would suggest no more alcohol, and take it easy, alright?"

You quickly stood up from the chair, your mouth moving into a smile, "Two beers, please."

______________________________________________________________

The rest of the game was exactly how you imagined it to be. The Chiefs fan's were traditionally loud and the players themselves ate it up. It was truly entertaining and whilst you didn't follow along completely, seeing Travis happy with his win warmed your heart. You didn't tell your Dad about your incident at the bar, instead lying and saying that you were gone a while due to a line at the restroom.

As the stadium began to empty, your Dad said his goodbyes to his friend as you pulled your jacket on. You quickly checked your phone, knowing it would be too early to hear from Travis and instead took a quick photo of the stadium.

"Come on, Sport." Your Dad called as he threw an arm around your shoulder, "I've had the best time!"

You smiled up at him, "I'm so pleased you've enjoyed yourself."

"Are you kidding me? At Arrowhead with my best girl, watching a Chiefs game in Travis Kelce's viewing box? I can die a happy man now,"

You poked him in the stomach, "Hey now. You know I hate it when you say that!" You drew in closer to him, "What do you wanna do now?"

He frowned down at you, "Are you not going to see Travis? Surely, you'll be okay to go to the locker room as congratulate him? Plus, I'd love to meet him and say thank you for the tickets."

"I don't know." You twisted your face as you absently glanced at your cell phone again, "I don't really know if I'm allowed."

You both meandered down the corridor before you spilled out into the crowd, following the natural flow of people out towards the exits. There was a natural buzz amongst the fans due to another win during an already great season but suddenly, the sound of a gentle commotion distracted your attention.

"What's going on there?" Your Dad asked curiously.

Bodies began moving quickly and cell phones were held high up in the air as people started to swarm towards one particular point.

"Travis!" "Travis Kelce!" "Hey, Travis!"

Your eyes widened as Travis pushed himself through the crowd, reaching out for your hands, "Hey, are you okay?"

"Uhhh...yeah. I'm fine." You licked your lips to ease your sudden dry mouth.

"Are you sure?" His hands moved to your arms, giving them a gentle squeeze as his eyes darted across your face, searching for any indication of injury.

"Travis..."

"One of the medics told me you passed out?"

Your Dad edged his way closer to the pair of you, his eyebrows lowered, "Sorry, what was that?"

You sighed, displaying your clear exasperation, "I had a little moment at the bar during half time, I think I was just overwhelmed and I fell down, that's all."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Your Dad pursed his lips, disappointed that you had kept the truth from him.

"Because I didn't think it was that big of a deal. I'm fine."

"Are you okay?" Travis' hold on you was urgent, as if he didn't want to let you go.

"Travis. Like I said, I'm fine."

You were abruptly aware that a crowd of people had begun to gather, their attention fully on Travis. Looking across to him, you noticed that he was barely out of his kit, his pants and undershirt still on, his feet bearing socks instead of his cleats. His brow was glistening and his hands still had remnants of white tape covering them.

Travis detected your gaze, "I came out to find you as soon as I heard."

Your mouth moved into a soft smile, your heart skipping slightly, "That's really cute."

His eyes flickered down to your lips and you could swear you saw him go to lean in towards you before he realised that you had an audience. He straightened his shoulders and turned towards your Dad.

"It's really good to meet you, sir." Travis held his hand out, nodding his head.

Your Dad exhaled quickly in shock as his face flushed a deep crimson colour, "Oh, Mr Kelce. The pleasure is all mine." He took hold of Travis' hand and shook it enthusiastically.

You leaned towards Travis, moving your mouth slightly closer to his ear, "Dad's a big fan."

Travis turned his head, checking the crowds before pulling your Dad in for a hug, "How's about we all head to the locker room and meet some people, huh?"

______________________________________________________________

Will I ever post new chapters within a decent time frame? Who knows? I was in a little bit of a writing slump but I feel like I've got out of the other side of it, and I think I know where this story is going to go! But as always, I will take all and any suggests for this one! I've had to adjust the way I do my Taglist as there's now so many of you all which is crazy!! If you want to be added, just let me know! This series will be going for a bit longer now that I've definitely figured out the story, so I reckon the next chapter will be posted in, like...July? Kidding, of course!

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#travis kelce

[wildxwidow]

(𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞) 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

Steve hears you wrong, thinks he’s your boyfriend, and begins to act accordingly. You try your best to go along with it until you can’t anymore. 3k, fem. requested here ♡ 

cw shy(ish)!reader, misunderstandings, steve being a huge sweetheart, fluff, hurt/comfort, bonus fluff scene 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The arcade is loud and brisk this evening, doors thrown open to allow for the constant ebb and flow of younglings, the machine music turned up to account for so many voices. You’re lost in a sea of rainbow flashing lights and the ticklish smell of sugar. Without Steve’s hand behind your shoulder, you’re pretty sure you would’ve gotten lost and trampled half an hour ago. 

A candy necklace pinwheels past your heads like a torpedo, forcing you closer together, your shoulders tight with a flinch. 

“We can leave,” Steve says immediately. He’s weirdly thoughtful. Before he asked you out you had no idea he thought so much about other people, but he’s always thinking about other people. You could argue he thinks a little too much, like you. 

“I wanna see Max.” 

“She has to be here somewhere.” 

That theory proves less and less likely. Steve’s hand falls away from you, tugging through his hair in a marker of stress as you circle the Palace Arcade for the tenth time. “Maybe she quit?” you suggest. 

Steve’s eyebrows pinch together as he gives the arcade another sweep. Max’s rough patch freaked him out, as it freaked you out, because ‘rough patch’ is a kind way to describe it. She could’ve got a whole lot worse; she was suffering, capital S. It’s nice to see her returning to society, but not if she isn’t actually settling in. That’s the whole reason you’re here. 

Steve frowns at you worriedly. 

“Who died?” asks a new voice.

You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Max!” Steve cheers. 

“That’s me,” Max says, looking at you both sceptically. Her ginger hair is pulled into two tight braids either side of her face, her cheeks flushed red. Mascara paints her usually pale lashes a darker brown, and a rosy tinted chapstick shines on her lips. 

“Hey, the uniform looks good on you,” he says affectionately. “You look like a valued member of society.”

“A society in need of better labour laws. I’m pretty sure this is child abuse.” She rolls her eyes. 

“Is it awful?” you ask. 

“It’s fine. Better when your stupid friends aren’t here making themselves sick on candy like they’re nine years old,” she says pointedly to Steve. “Are you going to throw up too? You look–” she grimaces in place of insult. 

“Who’s throwing up?” you ask. 

“Dustin. He’s outside.” 

Steve sighs and gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. “I’ll be right back,” he says, squaring his expression. “Goddamn kids.” 

He sounds like an old man, you think to yourself with a small smile. Disgruntled, he still goes to make sure everyone’s alright. He’s nice, even when that nice is begrudging and tiresome and plain gross sometimes. 

“Why are you smiling at him like that?” Max asks.

You school your impression. “Like what?” 

“Like you like him.” 

You shake your head. “Tell me about work, Max. What’s it like here? Are they giving you your breaks?” 

She drags you over to the counter to sit in the seat waiting behind. She glares at any kid who approaches, but besides that she seems in good spirits. The job isn’t hard, it’s just a job. She’d much rather be at home reading, but wouldn’t everyone? “And I get this sweet uniform,” she says, pointing at the embroidered icon on her shirt pocket. “What’s with you and Steve?” 

“Nothing,” you say, though it’s something. You’re mortified to have been caught having feelings. 

“Looks like something. Are you dating?” 

“I mean, this is a date,” you say, almost whispering as heat floods your face. “But we’re not together.” 

“He was touching you a lot.” 

“Max, he’s really nice. He’s a really nice guy,” you say gently, “and we’re not together, but if he does ask me out eventually, maybe I’ll say yes.” You realise what you’re saying and attempt to backtrack —you do like Steve, but Max doesn’t need to know that. “It’s not like he’s my boyfriend,” you say strangely. 

“Ew,” Max says with a laugh. 

“Not ew,” you correct. You hadn’t meant it in a bad way, it’s— 

“Not ew,” Steve says from behind you, his arm a heavy weight across your shoulder. 

You look wide-eyed up at his face, surprised by his huge beaming smile, an intense loveliness about him as he gives you a half hug. 

“What’s ew about that?” he asks you softly. 

Oh, boy, you think. 

As it turns out, being Steve’s girlfriend is kind of nice, but you aren’t ready.

From that afternoon at the Palace Arcade onward, he treats you like you’re made of gold. And it’s great, he’s so kind, he brings you flowers and takes you out for breakfast, where he pays the tab without any flourishes and talks to you as casually as always. You almost hope he hasn’t got it wrong at all, and that his soft tone a few days ago had been down to a brief overwhelming fondness. You’d get that. You have your moments with him, you’re falling for him, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re desperately in love, you’re sure, but then the waitress asks if you need anything else and he says, “Just a water for my girl,” and you realise you’re not getting off easy. 

Dating is sort of like being good friends; you’d planned to spend the day together anyways. You enjoy his company. It’s clear he’s eager, optioning off the day’s agenda as you return to the car, the bottom of your face hidden in your bouquet. 

“We could go to the movies,” he says, opening the passenger door, his smile seemingly permanent as you climb inside. “No science fiction, I promise.” 

“I kind of like sci-fi.” Petals press fragrant to your top lip.

“Well, we don’t have to go to the Hawk. We could go into the city. I bet they’re playing any movie you wanna see.” He checks that your leg is properly inside the car before he closes the door, jogging around to the driver’s side and practically throwing himself inside. He’s giggling like a kid. “Shit, I’ll see anything you want to.” 

“Steve.” 

“Or we can go do nothing? Until dinner.” 

“Steve,” you say again, thinking you’ll tell him. Nothing good ever comes from dishonesty. 

“What?” he asks. 

His eyes are so brown. Billions of people with brown eyes and you swear you’ve never seen anything like it before, their centres like hot honey, the sweetheart shape to them when he smiles 

You sigh. His smile is contagious, even while your stomach hurts. “Nothing. Let’s go see a movie.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“What?” 

“What do you mean, what? You sounded weird.” 

“I sounded weird?” 

“No!” He winces. “I mean, yeah, you sounded weird for you, like you… I don’t know. Sorry.” 

You feel bad, then. His apology is earnest, his hand resting open on the console for you to take if you could manage the flustering heat of it. 

“I wanna go to the movies,” you say, ‘cos you really do. 

“Alright, good. It’s just, I think my last relationship, I– I didn’t pay enough attention, and I want to do that better this time around. So yeah. Sorry.” 

Oh, Steve, you think. How are you supposed to tell him now? You’re gonna have to pretend to be ready for a relationship with him until you really are, it seems. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart played with twice. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you say gently. “Let’s go watch a movie, okay? I want to go, with you, we’ll watch a shitty daytime flick and then get dinner after. It’ll be fun.” 

You aren’t lying to him about what you want. It’s clear to everybody, Steve and his friends and especially you, that you like him, that you want to be around him and make him laugh. Maybe being his girlfriend won’t even be that different to being his something. 

After all, what’s romantic about seeing a movie? 

“You good?” he asks, half an hour later, your agony prolonged. 

You’re at the back of the movies where the seats have the most leg room, more popcorn and candy than you could ever eat at your feet and a litre cup stuffed into the armrest between you. Steve is tucking his shirt back into his jeans, his head parting the light of the projector and leaving a silhouette in the previews. 

“Steve,” you advise, gesturing for him to lean down out of the way. 

He leans down, further and further, face to face with you with his hands on his hips. A flirtatious teasing makes its way onto his lips. “What?” he asks, amused. 

“You were in the way of the light.” 

“That what it was?”

“Seriously!” you whisper-shout, laughing despite yourself. 

“You’re so cute,” he whispers back. “Want to take your jacket off?” 

Your lips part at his good suggestion. You hold your arm out and start to peel from your jacket, but he takes your sleeve and helps you out of it before folding it and sitting in the seat next to you, your jacket on his thigh. “How’s that, babe?” he asks. 

“It’s good.” 

“Okay, perfect.” He beams at you. He’s always smiling when he’s with you, like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. Like he loves you. “Tell me if you need something, yeah? I know you’re kinda shy.” 

He settles back in his seat with your jacket still in his lap and no indication that he might want to move it. Your knees touch as he relaxes, your knuckles as he puts his arm on the rest between you, a picture of contentedness as the movie begins and the opening credits play. “That’s us,” he says without looking at you. 

Two people walk down the street holding hands as the title of the movie blazes in yellow font with thick red outlines. A Day In Paradise! 

You bite down on a slither of the inside of your lip until it stings. You try to fight it off but the longer you sit there, the more your eyes burn, thinking about Steve and what he deserves and how unfortunate this whole thing is, and yeah, you’re overwhelmed, too. You aren’t ready for so much sweetness all at once. You don’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve this. 

You force the tears away. The movie goes on and on, the lights low, the chatter of moviegoers and the occasional popcorn crush not nearly loud enough to cover the sound of Steve’s breathing. 

He pushes his hair out of his face. Somebody on screen makes a joke, his hand brushes against yours, and then takes it gently as he laughs. 

You pull your hand away and tip your head down, a frantic tear flicking from your lashes. 

“You okay?” he whispers. 

You try to answer. You whimper instead, a terrible, sorry sound stuck to your throat —you can’t hold it in anymore. It’s too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble tearily, looking up, a tear rolling fast down the bump of your cheek. 

Steve sits still in moderate horror. “Why are you crying?” he whispers.

The thing about Steve that people tend to forget is that, while he takes care of people the best that he can, he’s really young. He doesn’t always know what to do. He stares at you now like you’re a foreign object, hand tucked back into his abdomen. 

A tear drips onto your lip. It tastes salty. “Sorry,” you say. 

“Why?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“I really like you, Steve.” 

He stares at you. “…But?”

“But I–” His frown hurts your heart. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this, I never– never had someone like me like this, I don’t know why I’m crying.” You say that last part to yourself rather than him, scrubbing your cheeks with your hands roughly before hiding your face completely. “It’s not you.” 

“I thought…” And of course he did. 

“I know,” you say. “I’m sorry, Steve. I thought it wouldn’t matter but everything’s going so fast.” 

He touches your arm gently. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought you wanted this. You– you said I was your boyfriend, to Max? I thought you liked me.” 

“I do like you,” you insist, meeting his eyes. 

“Can I wipe your tears away? They’re everywhere,” he says. You struggle to read his expression, but there’s no resentment or anger there for you. He looks quite serious. 

“Yeah.” 

Steve bends in his seat to wipe your tears off of your face gently. They really are everywhere, on your cheeks, your top lip, your chin, even down the arc of your neck. “I don’t understand,” he says, going back to your cheek for a missed streak, “but you don’t have to be upset. Please. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, I promise.” 

“Steve, when I was talking to Max, I said,” —you wince— “that it’s not like you’re my boyfriend. She was asking me about you, and I got all panicky because I like you, but I’m too weird about this stuff, I’m panicking now–”

“Don’t.” His hand lingers on your face, before a sorry flash of dejection passes over him, and he drops your face altogether. 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please believe me.” 

“Of course I believe you.” He grimaces at you, and the heartbreak turns to something more manageable, like he’s brushing himself off. “I’m sorry. For getting the wrong idea.” 

“I like you,” you whisper. Your voice is nearly lost to the rustle of popcorn and drinks. 

“I like you too!” he says loudly. 

A few seats down, somebody turns, an angry whirl of hair and clicky nails. “Can you guys shut up?” 

You and Steve leave your mountain of snacks behind to stand in the theatre hallway, where the winter air is cool on your flushed skin, and the silence is stifling. You lean against a wood feature wall and try to calm down, because he’s the one who should be upset (or maybe he’s not that fussed about you). He stands a half foot away with his arms crossed, looking down at his shoes, though occasionally he glances at you for a split-second and looks away again. 

“You okay?” he asks tightly. 

“I’m sorry.”

He pokes his cheek with his tongue. “So you don’t want to be together?” 

You don’t know. He deserves the truth, even if you barely understand it yourself, and it stings to say. “I do, I like you, but I… I want to take things slowly.” 

He stands there without talking for a while. When he does talk again, he’s laughing, that achy awful sadness he’d worn a far off memory. “You’re this upset because you want us to take things slow?” 

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” 

“You haven’t,” he promises. “That would never hurt my feelings. I knew when I heard it that it was too good to be true.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I guess I gotta earn the title like everybody else does. Is that… cool?” 

You nod vehemently. 

Steve blows a relieved breath of air up his face, his hair ruffling off of his forehead. “I thought I was gonna lose you completely,” he says, smiling. “This is fine. I can work with slow. Slow’s my middle name.”

—♡—

The sun is a blistering heat today. “Can’t believe it’s only spring,” you murmur, eyes covered by the back of your arm. 

A weight sits down on the blanket beside you, the sound of dry grass crushed underfoot. He brings the fresh scent of lemon slices with him, the zest sticking to his hands.

“I think I might melt.” 

“I’d never let that happen,” Steve says, laying down beside you. 

“You can be my parasol.” 

“Your what?” 

“It’s a sun umbrella.” 

“Like this?” he asks, gently laying himself across your front, his face on the slip of your stomach that’s bare, his arms sneaking behind your thighs to hug them as you bring them up. 

You reach down to stroke his hair, taking your fingers through the silky lengths of it, fingernails scratching ever so slightly at his scalp. “Thanks,” you say.

He kisses your naked leg. “You’re welcome, honey.” 

If he’d done that at the beginning of your relationship, you’d have frozen up; not because he would’ve done it differently, not because he wasn't always your handsome sweetheart, but because being comfortable with someone this intimately takes time, and that’s okay. 

“Your face is digging into my hip,” you murmur. 

He shifts back, his ear above your belly button. “Is that better?” 

“That’s perfect.” 

“Are you falling asleep?” he asks softly. 

“No… I’m thinking.” 

“Nothing good ever comes of that.” 

“I have something I want to talk to you about.”

“I love talking to you,” he says. He sounds as though he might fall asleep himself, his tongue heavy in his mouth. 

You stroke his hair away from his face by touch alone. Long, warm minutes pass without conversation. You aren’t scared to tell him how you’re feeling. He’s proved to you over time that he’s someone you’ll always be able to trust, and that whatever you have to say will hold weight. 

“It’s a question.” 

He turns in your hold to face you. You raise your arm, greeted by the image of him sun-kissed and lazing, laid out across you without a care in the world. 

“Don’t tell me then,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, you’re terrifying.” 

“Would you wanna be my boyfriend?”

He narrows his eyes at you. A myriad of emotions pass between you both, until he’s smiling, and you know he’s sitting up for a kiss seconds before he actually does. He presses his lips to yours carefully. “Baby,” he says as he pulls away, voice as mild as his soft kiss, “I think we’ve passed that point.” 

“I realised I’d never asked you, is all.” 

His hair falls down into his eyes. You tuck it behind his ear. It’s pretty clear now you’re together, even after such a bumpy start. 

“Can I get it in writing this time?” he asks, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours, your eyes fluttering closed in tandem. 

“Give you anything you want if you kiss me,” you murmur. 

His laugh fans over your lips. He cups your cheek, your heart a hummingbird drilling at your ribs as Steve moves in to kiss you properly. Your lips part under the pressure, your head tilting a touch to one side to accommodate him as he searches down for you, melty hot pleasure and nerves that never seem to fade arising as his thumb moves up your cheek, a semi-circle of touch. It promises undulating care whenever you want it. 

You tip your head aside to catch your breath.

“Better late than never,” you joke. 

Steve talks into the soft skin beside your mouth. “You weren’t late, babe. I was early, and I didn’t mind waiting.” 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank u for reading!! pretty please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed cos it means so much to me and inspires me to write even more!!! but either way i hope u enjoyed❤️❤️❤️

#steve harrington

[wildxwidow]

Mistakes

Summary: You were tired of men making decisions for you. Even though they had your best interest at heart, all they ended up doing was breaking your heart more and more. After reuniting Joel with his brother Tommy (your Ex who left the QZ without telling anyone including you) in a town called Jackson and an overdue argument with Joel Miller you finally confess your feelings for him, spending the night with the older brother, only to wake up alone in an empty house with him and Ellie gone.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader (former Tommy Miller x fem. reader)

Wordcount: 6.4k

Rating: E

Warnings: angst, pining, feelings, Joel Miller not being good at those feelings, past heartbreak, current heartbreak, mentioned of miscarriage, more angst, also some smut (unprotected sex), kissing, mentions of violence, stitches, blood

A/N: this summary sucks but I have no idea how to make it better. Let’s hope the fics doesn’t suck like it lmao

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It was like entering the twilight zone when the gates opened.

People were wandering the streets with smiles on their faces. You could hear children's laughter. Some people stopped and nodded towards you as you passed by them on the horse the people who had found you had put you on. 

Your gaze always slipped back to Ellie and Joel in front of you. Watching them closely. 

The woman who had talked to Joel, Maria, had not given you much more information other than to follow them after she learned Joel’s name and that he was looking for his brother Tommy. 

But you had seen in her face that she recognised the name. 

If you were honest with yourself you never believed you would really find him. Tommy. 

It had been such a long time since Joel had heard from him last and the only reason you agreed to join him in his search for Tommy was because you were scared of losing the last connection you had to your previous life. 

Tommy, Joel and you grew up together. 

When you thought of them you thought of summers at the Miller’s pool. Of thirteen year old Joel trying to teach five year old you how to swim while six year old Tommy kept trying to pull you under the water. 

The little shit. 

Of course as you turned older your interests changed, yet you all still managed to spend at least a week of the summer break together out for mischief. 

And then it all changed when Tommy Miller kissed you. 

It was after Joel left for College and if you were honest with yourself you had been crushing on him for a while at that point. 

You and Tommy had been together for two years before you found him kissing another girl. 

God, you had been so heartbroken back then. 

He had been your first real boyfriend and a tiny part of you thought he'd be the man you would marry and have kids with. Sixteen year old you had her life planned out to the dot. 

It had taken years for you to accept him as a friend again. 

Joel and you had become closer in the meantime. He’d told you all about his plans to open his own business and that he wanted to propose to his girlfriend. 

You were also the first person he told when he learned that he’d become a father. 

He had been scared but so happy. 

And you knew from the moment you saw him hold Sarah for the first time, that he would move heaven and earth for his little girl. Nothing would stay in his way. Not when his girlfriend left him with a toddler, not when both of his parents died, leaving him to deal with everything on his own. 

Sarah was his whole world. 

Until the world ended. 

The years after that were dark and painful. That was the excuse you used, that you needed to feel something different for at least a little moment, when you started to sleep with Tommy again. 

Which went on for years even after you made it to the QZ.

Until he left without a word. 

Leaving you and his brother again to pick up the pieces. 

“Tommy!” you heard Joel shout and your eyes followed his gaze, his horse stopping as he jumped off. 

He looked different. Older than you remembered him. But there walking down the steps was indeed Tommy Miller. 

Joel had found him. 

His eyes found yours as he hugged his brother, whispering your name in disbelief. 

For a moment, a small moment you were beyond relieved to find him alive and well. Anger replaced that feeling pretty quickly. He was alive and well and in a fucking functioning town without ever sending a fucking message?

You had stopped counting how often you had been almost killed on this mission to find him because Joel and you thought something had happened to him and he needed saving. 

You closed your eyes, swallowing your anger, finding Ellie watching you when your eyes opened again. 

“Let’s have something to eat,” Maria said next to you and you gave her a sharp nod, leaving the Miller brothers behind. 

You hated the fact that you cried when you were angry. 

Tears were streaming down your face as you showered under the warmest fucking water you had felt in years, scrubbing your body furiously. 

The nerve he had. 

Not only was he perfectly fine, no he was married and about to be a father. 

You didn’t like the way his wife Maria kept glaring at Joel not trying to be sneaky about it. 

You could only imagine what he had told her.

He used to blame Joel for what you all had done after the outbreak on your way to the Boston QZ. You had always argued about it in the privacy of the shitty apartment you shared back in the QZ. Because Tommy was a fully grown man when he killed those people. He could have stopped and left. But it was easier to blame someone else for the decisions he was too scared or cowardly to make. 

You could only hope that you’d be out of here first thing in the morning before you’d explode. 

Of course life had other plans. 

You walked into the house across the street just as Maria tried to warn Ellie about Joel. 

“But there are clearly things you don't know about Joel,” you heard Maria say. You stopped outside the window to listen.

“Oh, like how he used to kill people? I know about that,” Ellie said.  

“So then you understand my concern.”

“He doesn't do that anymore,” Ellie defended him. 

“He stopped killing people?” Maria asked and you rolled your eyes. 

“Innocent ones. And Tommy did it, too. Are you worried about him?” 

You chose that moment to walk into the house, finding Ellie sitting in the kitchen, Maria cutting her hair. 

“Tommy was following Joel. The way you are now,” Maria said looking at you. 

“No offence but you have no idea what you are talking about,” you said and she raised her eyebrow. 

“I think I do,” she said, putting the scissors down. 

“Yeah? You are comparing a fourteen year old girl to a fully grown man who had all the time in the world to step away and stop what we did back then. But he didn’t. He never stops. He’s a fucking…” you stopped yourself, taking a deep breath. 

“He told me about you. About how he regrets leaving without a word,” Maria said. 

You scoffed. 

“Sure he does. He always regrets doing things after he did them. That’s why he never sent word that he’s alive.”

“That’s my fault. And he didn’t know that you’d be coming to look for him,” she said.

“That’s what family does. We look out for each other. But maybe we’re not family anymore. Come on Ellie,” you said and she got up from the chair immediately, walking towards you. 

“Stop,” Maria said and you sighed. 

“I’ll take her to the movies and you…. I think you, Joel and Tommy need to talk.”

“You’re angry,” Joel looked up at you as you sat down next to him. He was trying to fix his boots. 

“I thought I wasn’t anymore but…. Fuck look around this place? I’m just so… Fuck I really want to punch him,” you groaned and Joel chuckled. 

“I know the feelin’,” he sighed. 

You let your head fall against his shoulder, closing your eyes. 

You felt his lips on your temple. 

„You gonna tell him?“ He whispered. Your opened your eyes, shaking your head. 

„Don’t think he would care,“ you mumbled. 

„I think you would be surprised,“ he said quietly.

You both sat there in silence for a moment. 

„I’m weak,“ Joel said after a moment. You sat yourself up, your head turning to look at him. 

„What do you mean?“ 

He sighed, not looking up at you as he focused on fixing his shoes. 

„Lately, there are these moments where the fear comes up outta nowhere, and... my heart... feels like it's stopped. And I have dreams. Every night,“ he said quietly. 

You carefully put your hand on his shoulder.

„What kinda dreams?“

„I don't know. I can't remember. I just know that when I wake up... I've lost somethin’,“ you saw the tears in his eyes. You knew something had changed in the last weeks. He was more quiet, staring of in the distance when he thought you weren’t looking. 

„I'm failin' in my sleep. That's all I do. It's all I've ever done is fail her again and again. I fail you again and again. I see you die ever single night in my dreams and I…“ you put your arms around his shoulders, tears running down your cheeks. 

„I can’t protect you anymore,“ he whispered and you tensed.

„I’m gonna… I’m gonna ask Tommy to take her. I’m just gonna get her killed. Both of you. I know it. I have to leave…“ you did not give him a chance to continue, jumping up from your position. 

„You gonna ask Tommy to take her? What about me? You gonna just…. Let him take me too? Because you know I won’t leave her. We’re all she has Joel,“ you said, your voice getting louder. 

„You could stay here. It’s safe. You would be safe…“ he said but you shook your head. 

„Stay here with Tommy? Super happy Tommy who finally got the right woman pregnant?“ You yelled. 

He said your name, pleading but you shook your head. 

„You know, I should have seen this coming. I knew I would end up alone. First him, now you… I really thought that you felt…“ you shook your head, „How silly of me to think it would be different with you…“ you laughed bitterly, stubbornly brushing the tears away. 

You took a deep breath. 

„One day you are gonna wake up and realise that the only reason why you feel so alone, is because you pushed everyone away. Because you think you don’t deserve to be cared for. Tommy, Ellie…. Me….,“ you shook your head before you looked at him. 

„Don’t bother asking Tommy. I’m gonna leave with her first thing in the morning. You’ll never gonna see either of us again,“ you said before you turned around, ignoring him calling after you, hoping you’d made it back to the house before you broke down. 

You hadn’t even crossed the street when you heard your name being called, Tommy’s familiar voice startling you. 

You just walked faster, not bothering to stop. 

„Please just…“ you felt his hand on your shoulder and you whirled around, glaring up at the man you once loved so much. 

„Leave me alone,“ you gritted through your clenched teeth, before turning away from him. 

„It’s what you Miller’s do best,“ you called over your shoulder before you made your way back to the house. 

You laid awake in bed when you heard the door open. 

You had told Ellie in the most gentle way that it would only be you who would take her to the fireflies. Of course she had questions, and you promised her to answer every single one once you were on the road. 

She had fallen asleep rather quickly before you made your way to the biggest bedroom. You just laid down on the bed, fully clothed staring at the ceiling as the hours passed by. 

You were broken, you had been for a long time. 

The only thing you could always count on to keep you going was Joel. 

He was your rock and part of you always thought you were his. Even when he was with Tess or any other women. At the end of the day, once he needed someone to talk, to really talk to, he always came to you. 

He held you when you found out you were pregnant after Tommy left. 

He was there when you woke up in pain, he was there when you found out you lost the baby.

He was always there. 

And along the way you fell in love with him. 

You turned your head to look at Joel who was standing in the door just looking at you. 

It was like there was something in the air all of the sudden, the hairs on your neck standing up as his eyes moved over your body, his gaze lingering on your lips. 

„I’m sorry,“ he said quietly, slowly walking towards you. 

When you didn’t say anything as he stopped in front of the bed he slowly sat down, reaching for one of your hands. You were too tired to fight him.  

„You were right,“ he started, his thumb running over the back of your hand, his head turned down. 

„I keep pushing you away because I’m so fucking scared to lose someone else I…,“ he shook his head. 

„I care about. I care about you so much, it scares me. It would kill me if something happened to you, because I was to weak to protect you. And I… I can’t lose you. I just can’t. I wanna keep you safe and….“

„Joel….“ You interrupted him and he looked at you as you slowly sat yourself up so you were kneeling on the bed next to him. You reached the hand he was not holding up, your fingers brushing over his cheek, his eyes closing slowly as he released a shuddering breath. 

Your hand lingered on his skin, your fingertips rubbing over the corner of his lips and his eyes flipped open, finding yours. 

„You know I love you, right?“ You whispered and his eyes softened for a small moment, before he nodded. 

„Then please let me in and let me love you,“ you said before you leaned in and kissed him softly.

He tensed for a moment before one of his hands came to the back of your head, deepening the kiss, pulling you closer, his other hand on your back. 

„Joel,“ you gasped, your hands pulling at his shirt until he parted from you, taking his shirt off. You let your hands wander up your chest before you pulled your own shirt off, leaving you in just your old bra.

„Fucking beautiful,“ he whispered before he kissed you again, slowly leaning over you until you were laying in bed with him above you. 

Joel slowly kissed down your throat, your chest until he gave all his attention to your breasts. He sucked on your nipples through the thin worn fabric of your bra until you sat yourself up, almost making him fall off the bed, both of you laughing as you took it off, a groan leaving his mouth, one of his hands palming himself. You bit into your bottom lip before you got closer to him, your fingers opening his belt buckle, then his pants. 

He stopped you before you could get any further. 

„Let me make you feel good first,“ he whispered, kissing you forehead. 

„Later,“ you said, looking at him, something in his eyes darkening as he saw the lust in yours. 

Within seconds you both were naked and he just looked at you in awe as he knelt between your parted legs. 

His hands wandered up your thighs, his fingers running shivers over your whole body, your back arching. 

„Please Joel,“ you whispered, your hands coming to rest on his hips until he finally leaned down and kissed you, one of his hand wrapped around his cock as he swiped the head through your wet pussy, teasing your clit with it, making you moan.

He lined himself up, kissing you deeply as he slowly entered you inch by inch, both of you panting against each others mouths.

„Shiiiit, you feel perfect. Fucking perfect,“ he grunted before he began to move, thrusting slowly inside of you, his arms wrapped around your body, his lips all over you. 

No matter how close he was, you wanted him closer, your arms wrapped around his back, pulling him against you as he continued to fuck you deeply. 

He kissed away the tears that escaped your eyes, overwhelmed at finally being so close to him. Holding him. Feeling him. 

He made you cum twice before he pulled out and came with a groan of your name, his cum spilling all over your stomach. 

He cleaned you up after, holding you close, kissing you until you fell asleep. 

While he watched over you, praying to whatever god there still was, that you would forgive him. 

You didn’t stir when Joel left your bed after he watched you sleep until the room slowly filled with light at the upcoming sunrise. 

You didn’t feel it as he kissed your forehead before he slowly got up from the bed and got dressed, grabbing his bag. 

You didn’t hear his whispered „Forgive me“ as he stepped out of the room.

You were sleeping so deeply you didn’t even hear Eliie argue as Joel walked her out of the house.

Not looking back towards the house you were sleeping in. 

The first thing you noticed was that you were warm. You hadn’t felt warm in a long time. Smiling to yourself you slowly opened your eyes, frowning immediately as you noticed how bright it was outside. 

Your eyes found the old cock on the bedside table, widening as you noticed that it was already around noon. 

„Shit,“ you cursed, your head now turning to the other side of the bed where Joel had laid next to you only to find it empty. 

A uneasy feeling washed over you as you took the room in, finding it vacant of anything that belonged to Joel. 

Suddenly fully awake you jumped out of bed, dressing yourself within seconds before you walked out of the room and across the hallway opening the door to the room Ellie had been asleep in. 

Empty. 

Your breath came in short pants, your throat squeezing tight, the beginnings of a panic attack making their entrance as your hands started to shake. 

Shaking your head you tried to get your lungs to fill with air, your back leaning against the wall behind you. 

Tears were springing into your eyes.

He wouldn’t just leave you after last night. Right?

Not after he….

A knock on the door let you jump up, running down the stairs, opening the door to find the wrong Miller brother standing in front of it, his expression one you could read without words. 

„He’s gone, isn’t he?“ You whispered. 

Tommy only nodded. 

Taking a deep breath you looked up towards the ceiling, shaking your head slowly. 

„Talked to the council. You can stay here as long as you want. Gotta take up some work at some point but there’s no rush…“

You scoffed. 

„You must be really delusional if you think I am going to stay here,“ you said, looking at him. You were still angry, but more so tired. Tired of always being the second choice.

He said your name, almost pleading. 

„I’m sorry for not telling you before I left. I thought it was easier to just… rip the bandaid off. I knew you’d be okay. You’re one of the strongest people I ever met. And I… I just couldn’t stay there with Joel and….“

You wanted to tell him then. 

To tell him that he broke that strong person he thought you were. 

Finding out the day after he left that you were pregnant with his child, broke you. 

And you couldn’t tell him that to this day you blamed that the stress of him leaving made you lose the baby you never got to meet. 

It wouldn’t help anyone to tell him. 

„I am going to get my stuff and I want a horse and some supplies. Then I’ll be out of here. I can’t keep doing this…“ you said. 

„No, No please stay. I want to… I want to make this right between us. I promised Joel I…“ Tommy began, but you held a hand up, stopping him. 

„Maybe you and your brother should try talking to me before making all the decisions for me. A horse and some supplies. You owe me that much. After that I’ll make sure we never cross ways again,“ you didn’t wait for his reply, turning around and marching up the stairs to pack your stuff. 

An hour later you were settled on top of a horse called Diamond. Tommy had gotten you the supplies you asked for, even a first aid kid and walked next to you as the gate opened. 

„Where are you gonna go?“ He asked. 

„Away,“ you only answered, even though you had a clear destination in mind, before you took one last look at him. You saw his wife standing on the end of the street, watching you. 

As you looked back at Tommy you realised that you felt nothing for the man who was looking up at you now.

„I know you love him,“ he startled you. 

„Pretty sure he loves you too, so once you found him, don’t be too hard on him. We Miller’s a stubborn bunch of people who only want to protect the people we love. Even if it ends up hurting them even more,“ he said, keeping his eyes on you. 

„Take care of your wife,“ was all you said before you kicked your legs to ride out of Jackson. 

The town you found shelter in seemed abandoned enough to rest until this blizzard passed by. It should’t be more than a days ride to the university of the fireflies now, but you could not make it in this storm. So you bunked down in a abandoned house, the windows and doors already barricaded making sure Diamond, your horse, had something to drink and eat in the garage before you bunked down in the surprisingly tidy house next to it. 

You even found some food, including long expired peaches that brought a small smile to your face as you thought about how much Ellie would love them. 

It was on the next morning that you heard a noise outside. You made your way into the garage, finding Diamond getting nervous too.

You petted her nose before you slowly risked a glance outside of the broken window of the garage, your eyes widening when through the heavy snow falling outside, you could make Ellie out on top of a horse. 

You put your jacket on and opened the door, startling the girl who now had her riffle pointed at you. 

You held your hands up and her shoulders fell as she realised who you were, starting to sob. 

It was then that you noticed that the horse she was sitting on, was dragging something behind it, the air leaving your lungs one one gasp as you realised that it was Joel.

And he was not awake.

„How long?“ You asked Ellie, willing your fingers to warm up as you dug through your first aid kit. 

Ellie had helped you carry Joel inside. Now she was sitting on the little sofa, her tears still running down her cheek as she watched you. 

„Three hours ago? Maybe more? I don’t know. We… We were at the university and we…. We were almost out when that man….“

You were closer to the university than you thought then.

You were dying to walk over to her to soothe her, but Joel was your first priority. He looked very pale, his lips blue from the cold. With shaking fingers your unzipped his jacket, fighting down the whimper as you saw how much blood he was still loosing, your hand immediately pressing down to stop the bleeding.

Ellie had made a good job with the bandage she had put on his wound. 

He didn’t even stir. 

„It was a broken baseball bat. He… he pulled it out and he was okay at first but then he… he… he fell and now he’s not….“

„Ellie,“ you said and she looked at you with wide wet eyes. 

„You did the right thing. He shouldn’t have pulled it out but there’s nothing we can do about it now. I am… I am gonna try to fix him, okay?“ You said, nodding as if to make yourself believe that you could. 

She mirrored you.

„Can I help?“ Ellie asked. 

„There’s a bathroom upstairs. Get as many towels as possible and then get a bucket with snow from outside. Snow from the top. We need…. We need to clean him. But I don’t have… We….“ You took a deep breath, stopping your ramble.

„Towels and snow, got it,“ she said, throwing her backpack down before she made her way upstairs. 

You took a deep breath, sucking your bottom lip in. 

„Don’t you die on me Joel Miller, I still have to yell at you“ you whispered as you leaned down, to kiss his temple before you used the scissors of your first aid kit to cut his shirt open. 

It came to you on the day after, that the only stitches you ever did were on Joel Miller’s body. You had stitched a cut on his upper arm almost fifteen years ago. Then a bulled wound on his hip.

But that was nothing like what you were dealing with here. 

You had used the little bottle of disinfectant to clean his wound as best as you could, before you stitched him up and he had not even moved a muscle through all of it. 

It was sometime during the early morning hours that he stirred, waking up only enough to ask after Ellie, falling back asleep immediately when you came into his line of view, his whispered name on your lips. 

You and Ellie had pulled him in as many blankets as possible to get him to warm up. 

It was like you checked the wound hourly to make sure it wasn’t bleeding anymore and somehow in the early hours of the afternoon it seemed to stop. 

Ellie was spending almost all her time outside in the garage with the horses after she woke up. She wasn’t talking much, but she had told you that she was glad you had found them. 

A groan made you jump up and you found Joel’s eyes flutter open, taking in his surroundings until his eyes focused on you, whispering your name, his voice hoarse.

„How are you feeling?“ You asked softly, coming to kneel next to him, your hand on his cheek. 

„Like I got stabbed by a bat,“ he groaned and you felt the tears springing into your eyes as you smiled sadly. 

„Not the time for jokes Miller,“ you said and he sighed, his head turning in your hand.

„Ellie?“ He asked. 

„In the garage with the horses,“ you said and he nodded slowly. 

„'Am sorry,“ he said and you shook your head. 

„It’s okay,“ you said and now he shook his head. 

„Was a shitty thing to leave,“ he grunted. 

„Yeah it was. And I am gonna yell at you for that, but only once you are all healed up,“ you promised with a small smile, your fingers brushing over your skin. 

The door flew open and Ellie ran in with wide eyes. 

„There was someone out there,“ she said and your eyes widened before you got up while she knelled down next to Joel who was trying to get up.

„Wait here with him and do not let him get up,“ you instructed Ellie as you made your way out into the garage. 

The windows of the whole house were barricaded so the only way to actually look outside were the broken windows over the garage door. 

You carefully stepped onto the chair you had found inside to look out of the window and you could see three men walk down the street, as if they were looking for something. They didn’t look like they were raiders, not carrying any kind of bags or supplies on them. And only one was holding a handgun. You were glad that it had continued to snow during the night, covering up all the tracks that led to the house. 

You watched as they rounded the block, noticing how thin they looked as they walked back the way they came from, unease washing over your body. 

„They must be around here somewhere. How far can they get? Rodrick fucking stabbed him with his bat,“ you heard one of them mutter as they walked past the house, your heart stopping. 

They were looking for Joel.

For Joel and Ellie. 

You had to get out of here. 

You watched them until they had left the street, before you got down from the chair.

Still in your thoughts you made you way back inside the house.

The longer you thought about them the more uncomfortable you became. You had the same feeling a couple times before, the last time just before you made it out of Kansas City, a city you only barely survived. 

Both Ellie’s eyes and Joel’s were on you when you entered the room. 

„It would be better for Joel to stay here and heal but…“

„We have to leave?“ Ellie asked and you nodded. 

„I…They are looking for you. I heard them talk,“ you said as you knelt down on the other side of Joel who was looking up at you. You put your hand on his forehead, noticing that he was running a little hot. 

You would need medicine for him. You only had some expired aspirin. That wouldn’t help him if his wound got infected. 

„We’ll leave first thing in the morning,“ you decided, hoping that it would be for the best.

It was a four day ride back to Jackson.

Four days that felt like four weeks. 

Joel had been strong enough to get on his feet on the morning you left and both Ellie and you had helped him up into the saddle before you got onto the horse in front of him, using two belts you had found upstairs to strap him against you, his arms coming to wrap around you.

You heard every groan of pain he let out as he tried to keep himself up on the horse. 

On the second day, once you were far enough away from the town you felt him burn up, mumbling against your ear, his head resting on your shoulder. 

It was getting harder to keep him on the horse with you, Ellie riding next to you, her worried eyes always on Joel. 

More than once he told you to just leave him and get both you and Ellie to safety but you and Ellie were having none of it. 

When you saw the gates of Jackson you were almost crying, Ellie galloping in front of you even though you called after her to slow down, hoping they wouldn’t just shot her on sight. 

But then the gate opened and for the first time in a long time you were glad to see Tommy Miller running towards you, already yelling commands out. 

The next hours were a blur. 

You pretty much passed out the moment you knew Joel was taken care off. You woke up to beeping in a dark room, only a little lamp on the table next to the bed you were laying in,  your eyes immediately finding Ellie who had cuddled on the bed next to you. You carefully put an arm around her before you noticed someone else in the room. 

Joel was laying in the bed next to yours, the constant beep of the monitor telling you that his heart was still beating. 

You closed your eyes, releasing a shuddering breath as you tried to keep the tears in that were threatening to escape your eyes. 

Ellie shifted in your arms and she turned around, her arm sneaking around you, her eyes looking up at you. 

„Thank fuck you’re awake, these people around here are weird,“ she said and you huffed a laugh, hugging her closer. 

„How long…?“ You asked but she interrupted you. 

„We came here yesterday just before dinner. Breakfast was two hours ago? I’m not sure,“ she mumbled. You both jumped when the door opened, your head turning just in time to see Tommy walk in, followed from an older man. 

„You’re awake,“ the man said and you sat yourself up, the sudden move making your head spin. 

„I’m Carl, I’m the town doctor,“ he introduced himself to you before he walked over to Joel.

„Is he gonna be okay?“ You asked.

„Thanks to some medication and some generous blood donations,“ he eyed Tommy, „he should be making a full recovery. Nice stitches,“ he complemented and you released a relieved breath.

„You should have seen the blood transfusion, it was super gross,“ Ellie said with a shudder that made you laugh. 

„I want you to rest too. You were severely dehydrated. That must have been some exhausting couple of days for you,“ he said, giving you a small smile before he looked at Tommy and left the room. 

It was quiet in the room for a moment as you tried not to look at Tommy. 

Ellie suddenly sat herself up with a hum.

„Weeeeeell this isn’t awkward at all, so I’m gonna go and get us some food,“ she announced before she jumped off the bed and left you alone with the Miller brothers. 

For a long time the only noise inside the room was the constant beeping of Joel’s heart monitor.

„Why did you leave without saying anything?“ You finally asked and Tommy shifted in the chair he was sitting in. 

„I couldn’t stay. Joel was…. He was getting more and more reckless. Then there was the fucking drugs. I wanted to… I though I could make the world better. just couldn’t stay there. I couldn’t watch him destroy himself any longer. And I am sorry I didn’t tell you. You didn’t deserve that,“ he said and you nodded. 

„I know the things we all did were horrible. They haunt me too. And Joel…“ you look at him, sleeping in his bed. 

„He was never the same after Sarah,“ you whispered. 

„We all weren’t. We just dealt with it differently,“ Tommy said and you nodded. 

„Are you gonna stay?“ He asked and you sighed, looking at him. There was no point in keeping a grudge anymore. Not after what happened. You were safe. Ellie was safe. Joel was safe and hopefully close to being okay again. 

„I have to tell you one thing,“ you decided. He deserved to know why you had been so angry. Why you blamed him for every single bad thing that happened after he left. 

„Okay,“ he said, nodding at you. 

„On the morning after I found out your left, I also found out that I was pregnant,“ you said quietly, seeing his eyes widen, before he took a deep breath. 

„I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad, I am telling you so you can understand why I was so angry and hurt,“ you explained. 

„I can’t keep blaming you for every bad thing that happens to me,“ you whispered. 

„What,“ he cleared his throat, „what happened?“ He asked. 

„I lost it six weeks after you left,“ you said with a sad smile, your finger brushing the tear away that ran down your cheek. 

He looked wrecked.

„I’m so fucking sorry,“ he shook his head, his hand running through his hair. 

You shrugged. 

„It just wasn’t meant to be,“ you sobbed, cursing to yourself as you turned your head to hide your face against the pillow. 

„Fucking hug her,“ you both heard Joel grunt and you almost jumped up, your head spinning again. 

„Joel, thank fuck,“ Tommy said before he jumped out of his chair as he saw you get out of bed on shaky legs. His arms held you up as you stumbled towards Joel’s bed who gave you a painful smile. 

„Come on, let’s get you into bed,“ Tommy whispered before he helped you sit down, pulling your legs up onto the bed as you carefully laid down next to Joel, his right arm opening for you. 

You put your hand on his chest, careful to not hurt him as you inhaled his familiar, if somewhat sweaty, scent. 

„I’ll leave you two alone,“ Tommy said as he looked at the both of you, but you were already asleep. 

„I’ll take care of her,“ Joel whispered before he kissed your forehead. 

Six weeks later

„I fucking hate math!“ Ellie groaned, letting her head fall against the table.

„Language!“ Joel called from the kitchen and she rolled her eyes while you held back a giggle. 

„Nobody likes math,“ you assured her, your arm wrapping around her shoulder. 

„Why do I have to learn it then?“

„Because that’s just the way life is. We all have to learn shit we don’t want,“ you said, you both laughing when Joel again called you out on your cursing. 

„I am a fully grown adult, Mr. Miller, leave me alone,“ you yelled towards the kitchen, only to hear his footsteps seconds later before he appeared in the door, both of his hands on his hips, giving you an exhausting head shake. 

„What am I gonna do with you?“ He asked before he walked over. You let go of Ellie’s shoulder as he stepped closer, his lips coming to kiss your cheek.

„Ugh gross,“ Ellie gagged, jumping out of her seat. 

„I’m gonna go and ask Dina to help me with math!“ She said, running out of the house, the door falling closed behind her. 

„She forgot her homework,“ Joel said, now kissing your neck. 

„Mmmmmhhh….“ You nodded, tilting your head to give him more space, his lips wandering up your neck. 

One of his hands sneaked to the front of your shirt until his palm softly palmed your breast. 

„Think you’re up for some…. Biology?“ He asked and you giggled, getting up from your chair to turn around, your arms crossing behind his neck. 

„Birds and bees again?“ You said, playfully annoyed while he nodded, all serious, before you both broke out in laughter. 

„We gotta work on your flirting, Miller,“ you said before you kissed him, shrieking when his fingers pinched your ass. 

„Love you,“ he mumbled against your lips and you smiled. 

„Love you too,“ you whispered before you let him guide you towards your bedroom. 

#joel miller

[wildxwidow]

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬.

Summary- It hurt to stay and fall in love with him, but you were desperate.

Warnings- angst, unrequited feelings, arguing, few cuss words, set after S4.

W/C- 1.6k

A/N: not very proud of this eee

It was a stupid thing really, a decision you didn’t think thoroughly about. Fighting Steve while battling your feelings for him wasn’t an ideal combination.

Feet in the pool cooling off the summer heat, while talking about the last events of the Scarring Spring the gang endured, and how you felt about it. This little routine started after the events of the Demodogs and Mindflayer. 

Little did you know that was the start of your inevitable falling for King Steve.

You slept over at his house, too scared to be alone in your solitude, flinching at the slightest of sounds. You considered just toughing it out but settled on the conclusion that honestly maybe he shouldn't be alone either. So you picked your trembling body and drove over to him. And as expected your reasoning was right, Steve was awake and in the same frightened state you were in.

Ever since that night you and Steve were practically inseparable; stuck side by side by a string. You babysat together, helped him land his job at the mall, comforted him through the tearful days of his parents’ mistreatment, and all the more. And in exchange he was present for your cheerful and irritated moments. 

Being friends with Steve was easy; Mathematicians would contrast its simplicity with how quickly the entire multiplication table could be solved. Astronomers would compare it to the facile discovery of Polaris, while doctors would contrast the basic comparison akin to finding a beating heart.

Loving him however, was miserable. Poets would weep at just a glance at your tragic love story, and kids would be confused: why isn’t the story lining up the way it’s supposed to? With every date he goes on, your heart breaks. With every glance at another girl, your stance falters. But Steve was your friend, and you stick by your friends, even if you are in love with them. Even if they subconsciously hurt you. 

But this time was different. Very different. A kind of different that clawed your heart out and had him spit on it. 

“I think I’m still in love with Nancy.” 

Suddenly, your head goes quiet.

“What?” Narrowed eyes looking at him from your side of the pool. 

“Maybe I never stopped,” Steve's eyes were trained on the waving water below. 

How could he be so nonchalant? Like he isn’t stabbing his nailed bat into you repeatedly.

“I mean she mentioned her relationship with Jonathan isn’t at it’s best so maybe-” 

After helping him move on, after your endless amount of advice, he still loved her? She broke his heart and he still loves her? 

You ignore your own hypocrisy.

The scowl on your face deepend with each decibel that spilled out of his mouth. 

“What?” the sound of your voice seemingly going down an octave.

Steve’s head whips towards your hostility. He’s seen you angry and it’s not a pretty sight, most people apologize before you start barking. But he’s never been on the receiving end, and this has him confused, and frankly a little scared.

“Well, we were talking in that little trailer we stole a-and we were flirting and I think she-” Voice almost brittle, Steve flies through the words. 

Why is he so adamant on explaining his reasoning to you? He feels his nerves spiking, and skin trembling, it’s probably the heat, yeah, the heat-

“She broke your heart -and maybe Jonathan’s now- and you're drooling over what? Being a second choice?” You bark, white knuckles gripping the coping. 

You know you're being cruel, you know you should stop, but, this is the first time since meeting Steve that you feel superior. The power of knowing you can control how this goes. No more flustered and smiley you, he’s added enough oil to the flame, and you feel yourself blazing; you're done chasing a lost cause.

Steve scoffs indecorously, as he pushes his ever perfect hair away from his face. 

“Ah- what? Second choice? Do you really think so lowly of her? Of me?”

“No! I think all of us are scared and broken people but, that does not mean she gets to treat you like crap -and you to her- and then waltz in and fucking hint at a flirt!”

Suddenly you felt every prick of gravel on your skin. You feel every atom swaying in the water by your feet. You were tired and yelling. It wasn't helping that the humid air was making you dizzy. 

“Her and Jonathan are basically broken up! I don’t know why this is such a big deal! I thought you would be happy for me?” He looks at you with furrowed eyebrows. 

Both your voices are at equal volume now but there’s a difference in tone. His is pained and confused. Why aren’t you supporting him? Why aren’t you excited? 

Your voice is angry and tired. Tired from the waiting, the ignoring, the being thrown off to the side. And angry from ever thinking waiting was a good idea, and trusting that Steve would ever look at you as a potential love interest. 

That’s not who you are or ever will be. And Steve will continue to be blinded by the countless beautiful girls that aren’t you or ever will be.

“I’ve been happy for you Steve -for fucks sake- I’m always happy for you! Every damn date, every damn girl, every fucking time! And I supported you and helped you with every single one that caught your eye and I’ve been silent like an idiot through it all!” 

“I never asked you to help me, that was your choice!”

“Cause that’s what friends do Steve! They help the people they care about!”

“If that’s your logic why aren’t you my friend now? You know how hurt I was by Nancy and how long I spent dissecting every single memory trying to see what I did wrong,” He takes a fast breath, “So her coming back and asking for a second chance at us is good! So why don’t you care now-”

“Don’t you dare Steve, the reason we’re having this conversation right now is because I care!”

“You have one hell of a way of showing it,” he murmured indecorously. 

“A simple thank you would suffice you dick.” you all but growled at him.

“This wouldn’t even be a problem if you hadn’t gone and blew up on me!” he retorted almost jokingly. The situation wasn’t far from being a joke. You and Steve the bright stars starring in the circus called your love life.

You sat silent at that. Everything is crumbling; the love, the patience, the longing. All gone and vanished. Is this who you’ve been hoping for? Wishing and praying to every shooting star. Someone who takes takes takes and never gives? Have you really been this blind? Do rose-colored glasses really sabotage you this hard?

“I dropped everything for you Steve. Everything. To help you, to ease your pain -god I always drove to your house at the crack ass of dawn the second you call. So don’t sit there acting like I couldn’t -that I don’t- give a shit about you.”

You weren’t done.

“How stupid was I to let you walk all over me and think that in the end you would see why I did everything for you.” You breathe in sharply before continuing, “Steve…” You clench your hands into tight fists and try to calm the wobble in your voice.

“I don’t think I can be here for you anymore, not like this,”

Now it’s Steve’s turn to sit quiet, not knowing how to answer. He inhales deeply as he ponders where to take this argument. He stares at you and notices your bloodshot eyes and the painful bite of your lips; You were trying not to cry. You hate when people watch you cry. All Steve wants to do is bundle you up and apologize for acting so stupid. He knew sugaring up with Nancy was a bad idea; He knew you would oppose it and fight for his happiness but Steve liked it easy. Scared of anything that has him weird and tingly, stuttering over his words. He hated it.

He pulls his gaze away from you and wonders: Why were the two of you arguing? Why are you so mad about him getting back with Nancy? Were you scared for Jonathan? The both of you have always been close friends. Hanging out during high school, working together, teaming up together when Hawkin’s turns upside down. 

He’s so confused it’s starting to give him a headache. How does one save his ass from a receptive friend's fury? He knows you. From the little and sacred time, he’s gotten the pleasure to truly see you. You’re so considerate and lovely; Always checking up on people, making sure you're the first to go down a scary path, throwing yourself in harm's way to protect the kids, and always making sure everyone gets treated before you. He doesn’t want to lose you, but the look on your face is tired. So tired that he’s scared that maybe he’s just noticed it now. How long have you been bottling everything up?

He says your name softly before continuing, “What…what do you mean by that?”

 It’s quiet, so quiet you second guess if you actually heard it. But you did. You always do when it comes to him.

“Open your eyes Steve.” 

You finally look at him. With all your exhausted glory. You finally let him see what he’s created: sad, neglected, and unloved you. You need to get out of here before you do -or say- something more stupid; Something that could ultimately ruin what little left of your crumbling friendship with him.

With that you get up and gather your things, walking out of Steve’s home. He’s still sat silent, as his head glistens from the water’s beam gliding across his contemplating face. He hasn’t made a move or sound of protest at your departure and you hope it stays that way. You need to get away, far away from whatever you messed up here. 

You close the door to his home not sparing him a second glance. And he doesn’t try to stop you.

© berryfeilds 2024

Boycott S5 of Stranger Things → Cast Zionism + Other reasons and productions

Learn about Palestine → Resources + Ways to help + Other 1 + Other 2

#steve harrington #angst #steve come on!!!!

[wildxwidow]

“I didn’t care if you loved me too, I cared that you knew you were loved. 

😭🥹🫶🏼

The One I Want: Part 15

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You’re new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: cursing, emotional stuff and vulnerability, fluff, angst, inaccurate navy stuff, typos for sure (fr didn't proofread tonight)

Words: 3537

The One I Want Masterlist

---

“He really didn’t call last night?” Millie finally asks. She’s been watching you out of the corner of her eye for the better half of an hour, sitting in a plastic chair on the opposite side of the gift shop’s counter as she unconvincingly flips through the pages of a bridal magazine.

The stack Millie brought to your work was an attempt to distract you so you would have something to think about other than Jake, but you’ve done nothing other than stare at the same wedding dress on the same page since Millie arrived. You can’t even say it’s a nice dress that would compliment your friend’s figure, so you’re about as useless as they come for a Maid of Honor. Dresses, flowers, bachelorette parties—it all sits nestled in the back of your mind, and you’d feel horrible for not taking the details of the wedding more seriously, but right now you’re not alone in using it as a distraction from missing the men in your lives. 

At least Millie has received some reassurance. Rooster has taken every opportunity to call her, to comfort her, to express his love. But Jake? Nothing. The most you’ve gotten is a “He’s fine, just a bit drawn into himself lately. Got a lot on his mind,” from Millie who reported that information secondhand from her fiance. 

That Jake has put you in a place of questioning is a blow to your heart, but in an effort to stay sane, you haven’t allowed yourself to create potential explanations for him in your head. He’ll reach out eventually, and when he does, you trust he’ll give you all the answers you need. 

But for now, you shake your head. 

“What is wrong with that boy?” Millie huffs, leaning back in her chair. “I was hopin’ he’d make up for his lack of calls with a beautiful handwritten letter confessin’ his love, but good lord.”

“He already told me he loves me.”

The magazine drops onto her lap. Her jaw practically unhinges. “How are you just tellin’ me this now?” she asks. “What did you say?”

Running your fingers through your hair, you close your magazine and shove it aside. “He didn’t let me say anything,” you tell her, relief washing over you at finally letting it out. “It was over the phone as they were leaving, and he hung up before I could get two words in.”

Millie sighs. “Oh, Honey.” She sits up and scoots the chair as close to the counter as possible so she can easier wrap your hand in hers. 

“You know–” she begins, but then pauses as she rethinks, “Or, well, maybe you don’t know—but you should know Jake doesn’t throw that word around lightly. I haven’t known him as long as the others, but I do know that you were a total game-changer. He told all of us that from the moment he saw you he was a goner.”

Heat floods your cheeks at hearing the words he once told you. You’ve believed him to be genuine for a long time, but it’s incredibly fulfilling to know he felt strongly enough to tell his friends before you were willing to consider your own feelings for him.

Being honest with yourself, you weren’t in the same place the first time you saw Jake. You thought he was beautiful and magnetic, and being that beautiful and magnetic, you were convinced he was going to be just as troublesome. There was no room in your mind to consider yourself a goner. Your shields were unbreakable. But now, when you replay the last few months of your life—replay the first time you really took him in, the first time his fingers touched yours—you can acknowledge that in choosing to stay here, the feelings you’ve developed for him were inevitable. Goner for goner—it just took you a moment to catch up.

Millie grins at the red tinge you can’t conceal. “He’s been Mr. Game Changer himself, hmm?”

Shooting her a look before playfully rolling your eyes, you say, “Don’t tease me about things you already know, Millie.”

“The next time he calls, do you want me to tell Bradley to knock some sense back into that pretty, blond head?”

You chuckle. “No, it’s ok,” you say. “Jake was patient with me. It’s my turn to be patient with him. He’ll come through.”

“I’m sure it'll be soon. For you, he’d–” Millie’s eyes flick just past your head. “Oh, fuck no,” she mutters as the store’s door swings open and closes from behind you. “We don’t accept trash here. Please take yourself out,” Millie sasses, making you turn in your chair. 

Brit doesn’t acknowledge the tiny redhead. Her dark eyes are darts, so focused on you she hardly blinks. For some reason, though, you don’t sense the animosity you did the last time she brought herself around. 

“It’s been a while,” she says to you.

Millie scoffs. “Not long enough.”

As much as you want to, you don’t feed into your friend’s comments. Defending you is appreciated, but you have a feeling that poking at the blonde will delay her departure, and Brit doesn’t need to be in your life and space any longer than you desire to be in hers. 

“What can I do for you?” you ask.

“I came here to say something.”

“We don’t have a good track record there.”

With arms crossed, Brit rolls her eyes. “Right, well…I was pissed.”

Millie mimics Brit’s behavior; arm-crossing, eye-rolling, and attitude included. “Award-winnin’ excuse, honey.”

“Can't you scram?”

“Can and will are two different things.”

Your eyes move to Millie. The fire within her is too powerful to die out against the challenge before her, and you’re positive the two could go on for hours if you let them, neither willing to back down. But you want Brit to get on with it. Surely she knows after her last failure that she’s unable to affect you or Jake and the plans you have with one another, all of which do not include her. So what else is there for her to bother you with?

“Millie, it’s ok,” you say, snapping the tense band of their stare-off.

Her face softens when she looks at you. Words don’t have to be exchanged for her to understand what you’re asking of her. She stands and walks to Brit with a pointed finger. “I’m gonna be watchin’ you through the window like a stalker the entire time.”

After stepping outside, she immediately turns to face the window, just as promised. 

You stand as well and brace yourself against the wall, keeping the barrier of the counter between you. “I’d love to get this over with, so what do you want to say?”

Brit takes her time, running her fingernail over the packets of gum in their display before she decides to take a seat in the vacant chair. With her legs crossed, her hands clasp in her lap. “I don’t know if you are aware, but Jake dropped by for a nice little visit a couple of days before he left,” she shares with you. Then she sighs as if bored. “He said some things. A lot of things. Bared his soul and all that shit. It was rather dramatic.” 

While shocked, you suppose you don’t need a million guesses to figure out why he would go to her before leaving you. He expressed his concerns weeks ago, and no matter how fiercely you tried to reassure him, you couldn’t snuff it out completely. You could always see it in his eyes—a dimmed but persistent flickering of worry. 

Brit yanks you from your thoughts. “You’re not ever going to let him go, are you,” she says. 

“No.”

“Yea…” She runs her tongue over her teeth, making that squelching sound you had hoped to never hear again. “He’s not going to let you go, either. He made that clear.”

You get that feeling again—that deep fulfillment from being with Jake. You could’ve lived your whole life and the adventures that come with it—from marriage to children to grandchildren, if that is what you and Jake choose—completely unaware of him working behind the scenes to protect and defend and love you. 

It seems silly to not have realized before, but you’re so new to this kind of love that inexperience has you approaching it in a fairly straightforward manner. You don’t hide your emotions or actions from Jake anymore. You’re sad, you cry, he comforts you. You’re mad, you yell, he calms you. You’re happy, you smile, and he smiles right with you. And you’ve done the same for him. Open and honest and, as you once agreed, hearts bare. 

You would do anything for Jake, and he for you, but you never considered that his affection extended past what you see. Not because it shouldn���t; that’s what love is, you know that. But the love of your past was hollow, very out of sight out of mind on their end; a disconnection that those men used to boost their egos by making fun of you to their friends or flirting with other women when you weren’t around. 

Unless taught differently, a person only knows what they've known. So the idea of Jake going above and beyond in that way simply never crossed your mind. 

“At first, I hated him for it,” Brit says, suspiciously even-toned. “Showing up at my door, desperately trying to appeal to god knows what while he repeatedly reminds me that he won’t be with me because he’s in love with you. I mean, can you believe the fucking audacity of a man to do that to a woman?”

You can, because you know hurt and embarrassment inside and out, and up and down. Without the context of their situation—were it any other man spouting off to any other woman—you could find it in yourself to feel sympathy as easily as you find your next breath. But Brit deserves the treatment she’s describing; not for the sake of cruelly getting even after the harassment she doled out, but because she needs to hear the truth of the matter from Jake’s lips. She’s in the wrong, what she has done is unacceptable, and perhaps most importantly: you are not the reason Jake doesn’t want to be with her. Whether she eventually accepts that truth or not is another thing entirely. 

“I’ve spent these weeks hating him more than I thought possible,” she says.

You shake your head. “Brit, I don’t understand where this is going, and to be honest, I’m–”

“You once asked me if I was tired,” she interrupts you, her tone raising to overlap yours. It succeeds in silencing you. “Well, I’m tired.” 

If you could find your voice, you don’t know what you would do with it. When she cornered you in the Hard Deck’s bathroom with a plethora of insults and threats, you shot back at her with few words and a final question. But considering her lack of self-reflection, it wasn’t a question you imagined she might one day reassess. 

Brit rises and straightens out her top. She gives you one final look. “So, now you know.”

Then she exits the store and disappears around the other side of the building where the sidewalk meets the street. 

“What the actual fuck was that about?” Millie asks, returning to your side.

You’re still staring at the spot where she vanished. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” you start, then swallow, “But I think she’s done with us.”

—

You love all of the things that still smell like Jake. The sheets, the pillow, the interior of his truck, the kitchen because that’s the first place he’d go after putting cologne on in the morning. He lingers everywhere, and when you close your eyes, you can trick yourself into believing he’s right beside you. But after a while of sitting around the scent with your eyes closed, the illusion dissipates. If Jake was actually near you, only so much time would pass before he’d begin touching and kissing and whispering sweet things in your ear. 

“You know I can’t help myself,” he’d say. And without him here, you can’t convince the scene to play out.

It’s like a bad dream that doesn’t lose its power over you even after you wake. It’s still in your brain, in the race of your heart, in the heavy gasps from your lungs. Dreams you often have that, even when sweet and beautiful, aren’t. If they’re not full of horrible images that leave you shaking in bed, they’re reminders of good times with Jake, and it’s the good times that ache the most when they’re over.

Tonight, though, it’s not the dreams that shoot you awake. It’s the ring of your phone from an unknown number. 

When Jake first left, every unknown number that popped up on your screen jolted an electric shock through your body. But after so many telemarketers and automated calls from the apartment building updating you on temporary changes to office hours, you stopped expecting anything else. 

Grabbing your phone, you slam the tip of your finger onto the little green circle and lift it to your ear. “Seriously, calling in the middle of the night is so messed up! I told you to take me off your list!”

“What list?”

Your eyes widen, and every scrap of half-asleep grumpiness falls away at the sound of his voice. “J-Jake?”

“Hey, beautiful…”

He sounds as tired as you are, but you can practically feel the smile on his face. You’re sure it’s a weak smile, all he can muster due to the exhaustion, but it’s there and it’s for you. 

Your vision blurs and you blink and fat droplets soak into his comforter. You rub your thumb over the damp circles. “I should slap you,” you say, your nose already becoming stuffy from your tears. 

“Oh, you should do much worse than that,” he replies. You lightly chuckle, so he lightly chuckles, then silence holds until he sighs. “I’m so sorry. I miss you so damn much.”

“So much you didn’t want to call before now? It's been a long time, Jake.”

“I did want to call,” he tells you. “And I could have—I should have—but I just…I freaked out a bit.”

“Why?”

Jake sighs again, and he must’ve pulled the phone away from his face because there’s a muttering so faint you can barely hear it. But then loudly and clearly, he says, “Because I fucked up, beautiful, and I’m embarrassed. You deserved better.”

Your mouth goes dry. 

Fucked up. Fucked. Up. 

Before you can stop yourself, you catch a glimpse of what the next few moments could turn your life into. 

Fucked up. Slept with someone. Sorry. Thought I loved you. Not your fault. You can stay at the apartment until I get back. 

Pain, and heartbreak, and tears fatter than the ones you’re currently shedding. Lost trust that will never be found for anyone else. No more confidence. No more self-love. No more vulnerability. 

Twelfth new place. 

But then he says, “That’s not how I should have told you I love you.”

One sentence. A snap of the fingers and every invading thought is shoved out of your head. You breathe. Shake your head. Swipe your fingers across your cheek to wipe away the first tear brought on by what you thought was about to break your heart. 

“It’s not how I wanted to do it,” he continues. “I was going to tell you so many times in the week before I left, but I didn’t know how you were going to react. Then I thought I’d say it at the dock, but Rooster was next to me and Millie was next to you, and no way in hell was I going to have them there the first time I said that to you.

“Before I knew it, we were on the ship and it hit me that I ran out of chances. But I couldn’t go without you knowing, so I didn’t think, I just did it,” he says. “I didn’t realize how fucking lame it was until the next day. I mean, Rooster told Millie on a damn ferris wheel, and Bob…” There's a pause. “Actually, I shouldn't tell you what Bob did for his girl; it shames us all.”

Finally, he takes a breath. “Anyway, after we were gone, whenever I wanted to call you I froze up because I had no idea what you would say and how you would feel. The thought of you being disappointed with me or with something I did–”

“Jake–”

“Especially something like this—it makes me–”

“Jake, I don't care that you told me over the phone,” you manage to slip in between his words. 

“Y-You don’t?”

“No, of course not,” you snicker, running the back of your hand under your nose to clear away any snot. “What I care about is that you didn't let me respond,” you tell him. “I care that the only way I've known you're safe has been through Millie.”

This time, Jake’s sigh sounds different; one more of relief than anything. Minutes of talking has anxiety lifting off of both of your shoulders by the pounds. Jake is okay, Jake is safe, Jake still loves you. You’re okay, you’re safe, you’re not so disappointed in him that you didn’t hang up the second you heard his voice. 

“Beautiful, if I could kick myself I would.”

“I’m sure you could ask one of the others to do it.”

“Anyone in particular you’d prefer to do the honors?”

You hum. “Javy never skips leg day. I’m sure he’s got a strong swing.”

Jake laughs loud enough for you to jerk your ear away from the speaker. “I’ll surprise him with the good news in the morning,” he says.

There’s a handful of things you could say in response. Cute things. Witty things. Sassy things, like requesting pictures of said kick in the ass as proof. But you don’t say those things. While you’d love to continue on the lighter path of conversation, you have more questions.

“Why didn’t you let me respond?” you ask. 

It’s amazing that you can’t see him yet you can feel his shift in attitude. As if in slow motion, you picture each phase of the bright smile disintegrating off his face.

Jake clears his throat. “You want the selfish or the less selfish reason first?”

“In that order is fine.”

“Ok. Selfishly, I didn’t want to hear you say you don’t love me,” he says. “But that wasn’t my first thought. My first thought was that I just needed you to know. I didn’t care if you loved me too, I cared that you knew you were loved. 

“It was after it was out of my mouth that I realized you might feel pressured to give me a response, which I also didn’t want for you. Then the selfish part came into play because what if you responded with anything other than that you love me too? Would it have made me stop loving you? No. But it would’ve hurt…badly.”

“You honestly think that I don’t?”

“I don’t know, beautiful.”

You can see his weak smile again, and you can picture how this conversation would go if he were in front of you rather than a thousand miles away. With that smile, he’d hold your hand and brush your hair behind your ear. He’d smooth your tears back into your cheeks with his thumb because he’d hate that they’re there before he pulls you into him to kiss you. 

“You’ve been through so much,” he says. “I don’t expect you to be in love with me, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn't hurt to hear you confirm it.”

You cry a little harder for the tears that shouldn’t be shedding; for the uncertainty he’s been feeling; for the questions you’ve been asking yourself over the last couple of months. All unnecessary. All of which could’ve been solved had he given you a chance to respond or called you at his first opportunity. 

You empathize with why he didn’t. Jake may be a man who doesn’t throw the ‘love’ word around often, but you’re a woman who has refused to throw it out at all. You protect yourself that way. You maintain some semblance of power by never speaking it aloud to someone who would not reciprocate. You understand what it means to tell someone you love them when you’ve lost those you love, and you’ve refused to do it for that purpose. It’s a risk of facing more loss.

But it’s a risk Jake took that would have instantly proved worth it. You only wish he could have known that at the time.

“Jake, I–”

“Please don’t,” he stops you. “I don’t want you to say anything until I get back. Either way, I mean. If you feel how I do, or, you know…if you don’t. I’d rather not know until I’m with you again.”

“You would rather wait months to know how I feel?”

“Well, that’s the thing, beautiful,” he says. “We might be coming home sooner than expected.”

---

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @rosiahills22 @oliviah-25 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl @roosteraloha @b-bradshaw @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @emma8895eb @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @hookslove1592 @alwaysclassyeagle

#jake seresin #series fic rec #if you aren’t reading this series. what are you doing?

[wildxwidow]

all's fair in l o v e and p o e t r y.

#taylor swift

[wildxwidow]

Set Me Alight - Part 6: Running Up That Hill

📜The angst... continued... Though I loved hearing all your thoughts about who you guys disliked the most in the last chapter. I'd love to know what you think after this chapter. I've been warned this one is a bit... OUCHIE?!

❗️+18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character (s), Short OFC, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, Verbal fights (some mean stuff is said here; there might be some gaslighting), so bullying, wildlife encounters, shitty family dynamics, and angst.

#7k

Part 5 | Masterlist | Part 7

Everyone scattered in the aftermath.

Even Jessica and Veronica were nowhere to be found as you made your escape. You hardly blamed them for it. If you had been in their shoes, witnessing that shit show, you would have shuttered hard from the waves of secondhand embarrassment rolling off all the tension.

But you couldn't feel secondhand embarrassment from it; you were the embarrassment. And all because of the same reason that got you to this point in your life. 

Jake Seresin just couldn't keep his damn mouth shut.

You're slightly optimistic about where the group could have gone, even with how hurt you felt. You hoped no one had heard or seen any of it, and they already had gone off to do their own thing. Probably the more likely choice, they did and wanted to avoid the fallout altogether, just like certain people had been all along.

Then a third miserable thought entered your mind - they were all pissed with you, maybe even with Jake, and wanted you gone. You could hardly blame them for that, either. Maybe deep down, you wanted to leave too.

It's how you found yourself following the rocky path, perhaps even dangerous if one wasn't paying attention, up to the top of the waterfall instead. The trail was open for use, though, from appearance alone, it looked like only some people came up here looking for another photo opportunity for someone with a camera below.

Climbing up the slope, rather than glancing below to the water, you turned your head towards the river, winding through a stretch of forest. If you weren't so upset, you might have stopped to wonder if this was the scenery authors envisioned when writing fantasy books. This stretch of woods ranged along the top of this mountainside terrain, and perhaps if you ventured far enough, somewhere you'd find yourself standing on the edge of the world. 

You followed the river bank instead, even if you could call it that, your eyes so intently focused on the rushing water you had nothing but your thoughts to keep you company. 

Cora's face flashes through your mind first. A shameful, disappointed look after asking if you had set up any more pranks. You had no intention to fuck up what was supposed to be a happy memory for Nat, but Cora could have put two and two together and assumed you were taking it another step too far.

Grace and Bob? Even Mickey? Pity. You didn't need to think about them further; the guilt from their expressions alone would drive you right into the dirt.

Rueben and Javy, you couldn't say, but Jessica and Veronica, you pushed from your mind, even if they tried to claim a few of your brain cells. They'd be so laced in pure, self-centred bias that you'd even go so far as to classify any remark they might make in the style and prose of Regina George's Burn Book - Masters of passive aggressiveness but perfect at playing the victim when the situation turned against them, as demonstrated the night you injured your hand.

Even if they had no part in what unfolded, any defensive remark would only be met with another, perhaps twisted, sentence intended to put you down.

You might have laughed at the fact had you not felt like crying instead.

It was a few minutes before you found the fork in the river, and there was a solitary rock big enough and flat enough to sit upon. You went to it without haste, letting your feet guide you by their own accord. Being mindful of your hand as you hoisted yourself up and settled onto the smooth surface, you drew your knees up to your chest rather than let your legs hang over the side. You didn't even bother removing your backpack; the weight pulling against your back was a comfort and a burden.

Weakly wrapping your arms around your legs, you let your cheek rest on your kneecaps. What comfort your arms could give was meagre and weak, and even as you stared at a riffle in the water, the gentle trickle or the momentary peace did nothing to help you.

While there was a part of you wishing Jake had decided to leave altogether, to hike back to the entrance of the park, never to show his ugly no, good, untimely, "if not now, when" ass again, you know there was no point. It wouldn't fix what had happened, and it wouldn't make Nat feel any better either.

To say this wasn't the first time you found yourself in the middle of a fight would be an understatement. As friends usually do, you and Nat had your fair share of them over the years, though they always ended up with the two of you making up.

Always because someone caved - that someone being you - maybe that's one of the reasons why you wanted to seek her out.

But you knew your presence wouldn't be welcomed. No matter your explanation, she wouldn't want to hear it, shoving it off and turning you away, especially after the first-row seat to her rage.

Her words hurt you, but you still knew you owed it to her to apologize.

For letting your temper get the better of you, yelling at Jake? Yes.

For the aftermath of it ruining her proposal? Also, yes.

You would sooner run after her for that apology alone had not Bradley gone after her - rightly so. That was something you couldn't interrupt or insert yourself into, especially after a clusterfuck such as that.

The 'thing' building in the pit of your stomach against the white, nauseating feeling of guilt also made you rethink your decision to seek her out. A feeling that only arose from you replaying Nat's rage-filled words repeatedly in your head.

Jake could be right. It's looking like he had always been right.

You don't understand why now, of all times, you'd entertain the possibility of accepting Jake's words. It is something you want to remain a mystery, shoved deep down into the forgotten places of your mind.

It's an impossible feat.

Nat's rage, so hot and what you'd classify as spiteful, blew the doors open so wide there was no amount of pressure you could shove at the idea to make it disappear. You buried your face into your knees, eye sockets aching under the force, driving lights and shapes to appear behind your lids.

What if? What if I said this? What if I did this? What if I just walked away?

But something else shot forward in your mind, something you'd never thought you'd entertain.

What if I did confront Nat? Confront her for the lack of support throughout the entire trip. Not just in the heat of the moment, but truly laid bare that she purposely brought me on this trip without telling me Jake would be here too.

If you told her how you felt, how she had made you feel, would that have made a difference, too?

You think not. Even if you had a part to play in your feelings of isolation, there would have been a reason, an explanation, a word vomit of her hurt feelings without care for yours. You had never truly voiced your feelings before, always burying them under wit and sarcasm.

There was no chance you would now.

Ironic, isn't it? All that snark you've mustered up for Jake, for the two twins incarnate, and you still couldn't bring yourself to stand up for yourself and set a boundary with your 'friend.'

You supposed that's how it's always been, too.

Growing up in the shadow of expectations, your voice often ended up unheard. A middle child sandwiched between an older brother who followed in your father's footsteps and a younger sister brimming with self-selected compassion – and two parents in high-achieving roles.

In the rare instance that all five of you could actually sit down and have a family dinner together, conversations only seemed to revolve around that fact. They were limited to surgical techniques, case studies, medical research projects, and overseas missions.

Your father always sat at the same end of the dining room table. Dr. Xiaver Spencer, the authoritative head neurosurgeon, would often glance over the rim of his glasses, nodding approvingly at your brother's, Dr. Alex Spencer, recounts of complex brain surgeries. Your mother always claimed her spot at the other end. Dr. Heather Spencer, the CEO of a prestigious teaching and research-based hospital, would meticulously plan her next board meeting in between bites. 

With your brother between them on one side, Ella, your younger sister, would occupy the other. She often regaled the family with tales of distant lands and communities, places she had adventures to as a volunteer with UNICEF. If she wasn't home, she was overseas, helping build homes, handing out supplies, assisting medics, or studying.

Only 16, and she was off seeing the world, her pure joy of helping those in need making your paintings and designs at the local animal shelter quaint in comparison.

That left you and your seat at the table, never fixed or permanent, wedging between your brother, sister, mother and father in a different spot every time.

They made you feel quaint, too. Any attempt to share or talk about art, your art, or even the opportunities coming your way was always met with a "That's nice, dear" or "It's good to have hobbies."

Alex would laugh. Ella would remain silent. And nobody took you seriously enough when you started discussing it as an actual career.

Because the path you had chosen for yourself was less valuable than the stringent standards surrounding your family and what it meant to be a Spencer. Because pursuing a Fine Arts or even an Arts Illustration Degree was abhorrent when you could be working to save lives instead.

You might have taken to talking back and standing up for yourself in the early days. Each remark or attempt was followed with one of their own, so cutthroat it would have you sinking into the polished and unmarked leather of one of your mother's overly expensive dining room chairs. You would poke at the designer dish with the fancy silver fork through your tears, waiting till everyone else finished before taking off to your room and calling Aunt Viv.

Each time you did, the urge diminished, and soon, you didn't say anything unless you were spoken to. However, that was a rare instance indeed.

Why give your opinion? Why voice your thoughts when they weren't really warranted?

Correction - Wanted.

Aunt Viv, though. She... cared. Pure, unwavering support, no matter what you said, did or would think to do. She pushed you towards what you loved and stood by you like a rock when cash was tight, and scholarships weren't cutting it. She was unafraid to throw your name around in conversations. Not your full name, but "My niece Maeve does this," or "My niece is such a talented artist."

Who knew growing apples could have such a sway? You weren't sure where you'd be now if it weren't for her.

You knew you couldn't stay here on this rock forever. But you didn't know what else to do. Walk back with your head held high? Give Cora, Grace, or even Bob the compass and the map, and let them take over for the rest of the day? Hang out in the back of the group where you belonged, not saying a word to anyone else?

You could always leave.

The thought was tempting - walk away from it all. From Nat, from Jake, from the situation. You're surprised you didn't attempt to do it before. But leaving now felt like admitting defeat, and despite everything, you weren't ready to give up. Not yet.

Four-plus years, and it would have been a waste for nothing if you did. Cause if you walked away now, you'd never come back.

As you slowly slid from the rock, you decided on a plan. You'd walk back, find Nat to apologize, and attempt to mend whatever was left of the week. You and Nat had purposely planned more than one stop on this trip where Bradley could propose; he still could if things calmed down.

You followed the river back down the way you came, trying to figure out what to say, what to do, that would make the apology meaningful.

You would have to do it sooner than you thought. Cause the second you lifted your head at the sound of stones clacking hard against one another, Nat was striding towards you, completely lost in her thoughts.

Your initial thought would have been she was seeking you out had it not been for the devastated look on her face.

It left you frozen, unwilling to take a step further.  You had geared yourself up to swallow your hurt to apologize for a mess that hadn't been entirely yours, but standing here and now in front of her, you knew.

It wouldn't matter what you said. 

It's not a disappointment you see it reflected in her face. It's not love for a friend either or even dislike either. That would be giving her too much credit, and even after feeling sorry for what happened, acknowledging you owed her an apology, and burying that hurt aside, failed proposal or not, it comes rushing back inside. 

Even then, you still caved first.

"What can I say or do to make up for what just happened?" you manage to plead.

She scoffs in the face of your honest ask. "You really don't know?"

You shake your head hard. "No. No, I don't. Not for this. All I can do is ask and offer whatever apology I can that would truly make it up to you."

Nothing on Earth could have prepared you for something like this.

Her hand flew up, preventing you from saying another word. “Just save it,” she spat. “I don’t want to hear it, Maeve. Not now. Maybe not ever.” 

You gasped, and Nat's gaze hardened further, if possible.

 "You think you're the only one hurt by all this?" Her voice raised, bitter and cold.  "You think you're the only one with feelings? God, Midge, you can be so self-absorbed sometimes. It's always about you, isn't it?"

Your mouth dropped open like a fish. "You really think I wanted this," you emphasize by spreading your arms out wide, "To happen? Do you think I purposely wanted to fuck up your proposal just to get back at Jake? Come on, Nat!"

"Honestly?" she cries out. "I don't know!"

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. "Wow. Okay then."  

"You've been so caught up in your own drama with hating Jake that you didn't even see what was happening right in front of you. How all of it has been affecting everyone else in the group?"

You don't mean for your anger to get the best of you or for it to be directed at Nat, but her remarks are so spiteful that you can't help the shrill laugh crawling up your throat.

"And you did? Like you haven't been the picture of understanding and support. You had to have seen the way Jessica and Veronica have been treating me. Where were you then?!"

Nat eyes you up and down like she's just caught you in a lie. "Funny you say that, 'cause they told me the same thing," she insinuates.  "How you've been less than welcoming. How you can't let things go. How you can't take a joke...."

Your jaw tightened, and the fact she was buying into their words and their stories without questioning it further stung harder than you wanted to believe. 

"So their behaviour is justified because I was standing up for myself? For things you never saw from the sound of it!?" 

And what does she do but shrug? The action is so dismissive it only fuels your frustration further. "You're not exactly innocent in all of this." 

You know it's not those two she's referring to. 

"What, Jake?" you mock. "You never told me Jake was coming on this trip. You've always known how I've felt about him, how it's always been between us, and you said nothing!"

"Because I thought you could handle it for one fucking week!"

"I leave a room the second I realize he's in it. I purposely go out of my way to avoid him. That's me fucking handling it! I avoid him at all costs because I can't stand to be in the same space as him without feeling like I will lose my mind. And you thought throwing us together was a good idea?!"

Nat didn't say anything, prompting you to continue. "A good friend tells her friend if the guy she hates is going on a week-long trip with them. A good friend acknowledges the hurt this person has caused..."

"A good friend explains why she dislikes a guy so much! She explains she lets them know...." Nat interrupts you, though you interrupt her right back.

"He's your fucking friend! I won't be the one to drive a wedge into a friend group that existed long before I ever came around!"

As if I could.

Nat's response was a mix of frustration and disbelief. "You just gave up! You just gave him the cold shoulder, and the next, you two were at each other's throats."

"And what?" you cried out.  "You just believed what Jessica and Veronica said about me? Without even asking my side? You know how they can be, Nat! you know!" 

Her eyes narrowed, and she moved closer, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. ”If you ever faced your problems instead of sprinting in the opposite direction, we wouldn't be in this mess. It's no wonder everything's falling apart around you."

Her words held you in a chokehold, a sharp intake of breath your only defence against the burning sting in your lungs. You remain silent, hurt flashing across your face as your eyes blur with unshed tears.

"Wow," you finally manage, voice croaking. "Kick me while I'm down. I'm sorry your proposal was ruined, Nat; I am. But that doesn't give you permission to be cruel." 

She turns her head away from you to stare at the water. You press on further. 

"Let's talk about this," you hold your arm up. "Or the fact I was the one hiding behind the bush first, not him. With my phone, trying to get photographs for you. Jake was the one who approached me. Who decided that was the best moment of all other times to start fucking with me. I might have pranked him earlier, but I wasn't about to do it during a moment such as that. I was the one telling him to back the fuck off. " 

Your eyes were welling up with tears, but you fought them back, refusing to let her see just how much she'd wounded you.

"Or let's talk about how Veronica gave me a snide remark about my art, and I stood up for myself, only to have her knock my brushes to the side. Or how they cornered Jake into pulling a prank that resulted in this?" you hold up your arm. 

She turns to you, her eyes harsh. "Like how you pranked Veronica?" 

You rolled your eyes. "It was meant for the Asshole, but you know what, I'm happy she got a little bit of Karma after everything you just admitted." 

Nat's face twisted, a mix of anger and something else you couldn't quite place. "You know what, Maeve? Maybe you're right. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. You and Jake, this trip, everything!" 

"And you think blaming me is going to make it better?"

Nat opened her mouth to retort but then closed it, pressing her lips into a thin line. The anger seemed to drain from her face momentarily, replaced by a weary resignation.

"Maybe I never should have invited you instead."

You bit your bottom lip, nodding more to yourself than to her. A sad noise crept up your throat, a laugh, though it was one more of resignation, maybe even ironic amusement. The thought comes rushing forward to sweep you off your feet like the first time you heard it.

Because Jake was right, after all.

Standing there wounded and silent, in the hardness of Nat's eyes, you conclude that perhaps you were never really a friend in the first place.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe you never should have. At least then, I wouldn't have spent years thinking we were actually friends after all."

Shaking your head, you turned away from her, the weight of everything pressing down on you. With each step you took, the sound of the river beside you grew louder, its rushing waters seeming to beckon you forward. The thought that if you could allow yourself to be swept away, to tumble over the waterfall at its end, flashed through your mind. That would be enough to wash away the pain. 

Nat sighed loudly from behind you and then called out after you, "Midge, stop!"

The fact she called you Midge, not Maeve, made your resolve burn brighter.

You twisted, continuing to walk backwards. You dramatically threw your hands out to the side as you sarcastically called out through your tears, "Why should I? I only think about myself, right? Make everything about me? Why quit now when I'm only following in the example you've so clearly set?"

You sniffed a breath, and then the remark slipped past your lips, the defence mechanism you've used in all other circumstances, finally landing a blow on someone you once considered a friend. You purposely stopped, raising your hands to clap against the thick fabric of the bandage on your arm.

"Let's give a round of applause and a standing ovation to the one and only Natasha Trace, the saint who never does anything wrong!" you dropped, bending yourself down into a dramatic bow. "Bravo for putting up with me for so long! What an Oscar-worthy performance, indeed!"

You didn't bother seeing her reaction, purposely straightening yourself to turn back to walk the path ahead. Honestly, you didn't want to see it either.

You simply had enough.

All those years you spent fighting against the words of one jock in your apartment bathroom because you didn't want to lose Nat as a friend - gone in minutes.  

Fighting your sobs, you tried to devise some plan, anything beyond your initial decision to leave as you stormed forward. Perhaps some other tourist below would take pity on your situation and let you tag along back to the park entrance. There was a bus station there. You could buy a ticket back into the city and then take the train home.

Either way, your decision to leave had been the obviously correct one. Nat made that so abundantly clear.

You could see the opening to the slope from a distance, and you took a moment to compose yourself. Wiping at the lingering tears on your face, you drew in sharp, equal breaths, hoping the fresh air would calm you down.  If you were about to ask a total stranger for help, you couldn't do it looking like this.

You tilted your head back on your shoulders, closing your eyes as you tried to feel the breeze on your face, seeking solace in its cool embrace. You let your hand rest on the nearby tree, trying to feel the sensation of its bark under the palm of your hand. Rolling your head forward, you shook your shoulders, straightening your posture before opening your eyes.

But the path ahead was no longer empty. And you caught sight of the last person you wanted to see, making their way up the hill. 

The universe was a fine-flecked bitch, so that it would seem. Because there was Jake, in all his glory, precariously walking up the slope. 

Seeing him sends the sensation of sheer ice shooting across your skin. And the hurt that had found a home inside your chest amplifies into an overwhelming urge to run. Run, and never look back. Run and escape.

Run. Run. Run. Run.

But is it from him? Or from his words and the truth in them, haunting, following you from that night? A truth that was proven only a mere few seconds ago.

Panic flutters in your chest at the thought he'd seen you, and you spin rapidly on your heel, hoping you could find another path or maybe even hide until he accomplished whatever he intended to do by coming up here.

But your bag snags on a branch, and you wince as the leaves rustle obnoxiously, knowing that if Jake hadn't seen you standing there before, he certainly would now.

Jake lifted his head at the sudden noise, only to see a quick flash of bright blue. Your sleeping bag curled on top of your backpack disappeared behind the thick trunk of a tree.

"Midge, wait!"

Like hell, I'd wait for you.

His voice spurs you on, taking off into the thick underbrush. Jake is undeterred in the slightest, taking off after you.  He wasn't far behind, having extended his pace to get to you quicker once he was up the side of the hill.  You were at a disadvantage; your short legs were no match for his long ones, and your heavy bag only weighed you down.

Your only hope would be to lose him in the bush, counting on his height, build, and weight even, to slow him down and watch where he was going. You were small, yes, but you could get through the gaps or the trees better than he ever could.

But Jake was uncaring if thorns were ripping at his jeans or if branches were smacking him in the face. He was so fucking stubborn, and his drive was absolute. If not to get you to talk, then not to let you disappear into the woods alone.

"Midge, stop running! I'm not going to hurt you!"

His voice came from everywhere and anywhere, seemingly bouncing off trees and down the paths they grew, a haunting echo that unleashed a fresh wave of tears. As you rounded the corner of a tree, you came across an intriguing root system twisting along the ground when your vision blurred.

You cried out when you tripped over a root. You caught yourself and, without stopping, lifted your arm so the bandage might catch the tears rushing down your face, feet continuing to step in the spaces between the roots blindly.

You did. You have been. And you probably still will.

The thought, bitter and resigned, fueled your steps farther and farther. The underbrush grabbed at your legs like hands pulling you down. Burs stuck to the fabric of your leggings and pricked at your skin. Branches whipped at your face and arms, leaving thin lines of red in their wake. But the thought of losing Jake, getting out of this park and never seeing him again urged you on.

But when you finally burst through the underbrush, expecting to find a trail, a slope down, or even a trail marker to tell you where to go, you were met with nothing of the sort. It was a dead end, a sheer cliff drop that had you skidding to a jarring halt against stone ground. Gravel slid beneath your feet, and your arms flailed wildly as you desperately tried to save your balance.

Your heart must have stopped briefly as you were forced to look down, confronting the edge of this unexpected cliff and the daunting drop below. While not lethal, a fall like this would only lead to injury, one you wouldn't tempt fate for.

A cold wave of realization washed over you as you finally regained your balance and looked around. The ledge you found yourself on was a narrow outcropping that offered no path forward, only a steep fall or retreat back through the bush toward Jake.

You were utterly, utterly trapped.

Twigs snapped under Jake's boot as he stepped out from behind the bush. His breath was laboured, audible harsh pants that had you reaching up to cup your hands over your ears before sliding them forward to cover your eyes.

I can't do this now. I can't do this now.

"Why do you always run from me?"

You couldn't think. Nothing was coming forth to save you now. No witty retort or clever line. No semblance of that resolve that rushed through your veins before. You were literally incapable of rescuing or being enough to save yourself from what was about to unfold.

So, your anger rose up to greet you like a long-lost friend instead. 

"You don't get to ask me that! Why do you even care?" The words erupted from you louder and more forceful than you'd care to admit, letting your hands fall from your face to smack against the side of your thighs. "What the fuck more could you possibly want from me, Jake?! What... what was the point of you chasing me? To corner me? To say more about me or remind me how much of a fuck up I really am? To drive the wedge, the fucking knife, deeper?"

Even as you yelled, you still couldn't face him.

"Everyone in this fucking camp hates me! In general. Do you think I don’t know what people say? How they look at me? And you… you’re no different. You’ve made your thoughts about me crystal clear from the second I met you." 

You stomped forward, pointing your finger into his chest. "We made a fucking deal not to ruin their week for them. We agreed. But you just had to cause shit. You just had to bang that pot; you just had to put away the coffee; you just had to think of the worst fucking shortcut; you just had to scream, bear. You just had to hurt me!" 

You were panting hard, thumping your finger into his chest. 

"I told you. You throw that shit at me. I'll throw that shit back. So thank you for that, because if your point in all of that was to end Nat and I's friendship and kick me out of the group, then congratulations. You succeed!" 

As he absorbed the full force of your words, the pure hurt pouring out of you, he seemed to deflate right before your eyes. For a moment, he stood there, his features softening and his usual cocky confidence nowhere in sight. Some might have even called it a genuine look of distress and confusion. 

Jake's voice was barely above a whisper when his shoulders slumped, and he asked defeatedly, "Why do you hate me so much, Midge? What did I do?"

In his honest green eyes, you could see the plea for an answer, any answer that might get you to open up to him and simply explain.

But you couldn't.

How could you explain the reason you yelled, shouted, snarked, and downright hated him was because he had been completely right? At the infamous Halloween party, you caught him about to hook up with that girl in your bathroom, uttering about your supposed friendship with Natasha?

How, since that moment, you had been running from him because it was the easier option? Better than giving yourself over to the possible truth - a truth you have seen time and time again. Because allowing yourself to feel hurt over catching him with another girl when he flirted and showed an interest in you for most of the night was better than possibly ruining the one friendship you had.

It shouldn't even matter right now. You already had. And just like that night, Jake had been right the first day by the lake. You did run away from your problems.

Because I don't know how to do anything else.

His question hung in the air, a plea for some understanding, some clue, some indication of how things could have gotten so bad between you.

A gasp tore from your throat instead.

Not because you were outwardly expressing your frustration and struggle in answering him, but for the fact you caught sight of a massive creature emerging from the treeline behind him.

Every emotion you had felt before vanished at the sight and was replaced with only two: panic and fear.

Your arm moved by its own accord, your hand latching onto Jake's sleeve. He tried to tug his arm back, but you wouldn't let him. You were near catatonic, your grip as strong as metal and your face pale as ice as you watched the approaching creature finally notice your presence. With its mouth hung open, the brown monster stood on its haunches to inquire if you were friend, foe, or its next meal.

Jake remained clueless to your reaction, frowning when he reached up to pry your hand away, unaware of the approaching threat. "What the fuck, Midge. Let me go!"

You couldn't. You couldn't let Jake go. You couldn't do anything except stutter out, "baaa baaa... Bear!"

How your legs hadn't given out yet, you had no clue.

"Really? Do you think I'm going to fall for that after what I did to you? No way. Stop changing the damn subject and give me an answer."

You're not sure how you managed it, but you attempted to hit him on his shoulder, nervous energy causing you to let up on the force behind such a move. You hadn't even felt the sting of your bandaged wrist, adrenaline masking any pain you might have felt, even if it was a rather flimsy attempt.

You still hadn't taken your eyes off the brown animal. It was massive, rugged, and looked like it had no protests about which one of you it would eat first. The scar across its back and face was another story altogether, too. Its teeth would have no problem tearing into Jake; you'd merely be a tiny slice of desert. Or the appetizer.

"Midge, stop and talk to me like a fucking adult!"

The fact he still didn't listen to you seemed to wake you out of your stupor.

"Turn the fuck around and look, you idiot!"

You aren't sure if your prompting would have gotten Jake to turn around and look. Because once you finally managed to gather the courage to draw your eyes away from the thing deciding who to go after first, Jake's face was frozen, contemplating if you were telling the truth.

The bear roared, shattering any doubt.

His reaction was instant, eyes flaring and mouth hanging slightly. He spun, shooting out his arm as his hand made contact with your hip, urging you behind him. Your hands scrambled for anything to grab onto as he turned, eventually settling on clutching the strap of Jake's backpack.

If you weren't so scared, you might have wondered why Jake was here, putting himself in harm's way for you. You might have even whipped out a sarcastic, "Yeah, that's right. Eat him first, you wild creature."

But either one of you had anywhere to go. And even if you could manage to distract it, there was no way either of you could outrun it.

"What are we going to do?" you shot out nervously.

"It's a bear, Midge!" Jake rushed out. "Just stay the fuck behind me."

You panicked and snapped back, "I saw it first! I know what a bear looks like!"

It bellowed, making Jake jolt backwards. You let out a cry, burying your face into the back of his massive bag.

The bear safety facts from the class the park rangers made you take before you ventured into the park are conveniently missing from your mind. All except the one you whisper harshly, "They tell you not to run."

Jake's voice cut through the tension. "Well, if we can't run, I guess now's a good time to see who can yell louder?"

"You really want to start a shouting match now?!"

"Were you paying any attention in that safety class? Running. No. Yelling. Yes. Surely, between the two of us, we can manage that!"

"I was doing that before it decided to show up! What makes you think that's not the reason it sought us out, dumbass?"

"Because I refuse to believe my sparkling personality is what attracts bears!"

You laughed sharply as the bear seemed to be weighing its options. You were not sure why it hadn't decided to charge the two of you yet, but you would have bet good money it had to do with the scars littered across its body.

"You called for one the other night, remember? Practically pulled a Dory!"

"Don't hate on a children's Icon, Midge!"

"I'm hating on you for what you did to me! They aren't mutually exclusive things!"

Jake took a careful step forward, testing the waters. You shuffled with him, eager to put space between you and the ledge. The creature tilted its head as if pressing its ear to the ground. Then, without warning, it let out a deep, resonating roar directly at the both of you. You buried your face into Jake's backpack again, trying not to scream.

"That was probably not one of my best ideas."

Your voice was muffled against the fabric. "Want me to make a list?"

Jake's laugh was nervous. "Only if I can make one for you."

The bear, seemingly unimpressed by your banter, shifted its weight, causing Jake and you to tense up again.

"Thinking yelling at a bear would actually work as a deterrent is on it."

"We're supposed to yell at it, not at each other."

"You think it can tell the difference?" you asked him, your voice pitchy. "It doesn't matter who or what we are yelling at."

Jake managed a strained smile.  "Common ground. Wow, we're practically bonding over here."

"Because nothing brings people closer like shared trauma," you snap, fear sharpening your words. "I'm tripping you first."

"I'm leaving you behind."

"I'll feed you to the bear myself."

"I run faster, scared than you do, mad."

"Hang on, let me find a stick and shove it up your ass."

Jake's eyebrows shot up. "Now there's the Midge I know."

Peering over Jake's arm, the bear made a sudden, decisive lunge forward with a single paw, claws extended, as if taunting its prey, waiting to see if the two of you would scramble. The move was unexpectedly aggressive, and it sent the two of you scrambling backwards in panic.

Neither of you realized how close to the cliff's edge you actually were. Only when your boots slid again on gravel, and you were brought back to a few moments ago when you nearly fell over yourself.

"Jake! The cliff!" you cried out, desperately trying to push on his backpack. You could feel it, one or maybe two more inches, and you'd be slipping off the edge.

"Hang on to me!"

"What do you think I'm doing?" You shot back, your words laced with adrenaline-fueled irritation and fear. However, you did find your grip miraculously tightening further to anchor yourself to him. But you couldn't with your injured hand, trying desperately to wind it through the straps across the bag instead.

Jake's mind flickered rapidly between the bear and the crackling stone beneath his feet. "Okay, new plan. We let it charge, and we dodge."

"And your an action movie junkie, that's never going to work!" you rushed out. 

"What else do we have, Midge?!"

Honestly? Nothing.

Jake widened his stance, almost as if he was sizing up the bear. You mirrored his movement as best you could, though it seemed futile with your smaller stature.

"When I move, you move!" Jake's voice was sharp, a clear command, and if this were any other circumstance, your instinctive retort would have been a defiant, "Don't tell me what to do!"

For this?

 Nope. Have at it, Jake. Maybe they'll let me torture you in hell.

It was stupid. Idiotic even. But what else could the two of you do? You were literally boxed in—no way to go.

Then something popped under your foot. And above the frantic beating of your heart, more menacing than the bear's growls, came a sickly sound that made your blood run cold.

An ominous crack.

What followed was worse - a series of smaller yet equally sinister sounds and the feeling of pieces of stone wobbling beneath your feet. You didn't dare look down, for you already knew.

The damn cliff was falling apart.

"Jake!"  Your voice was desperate, trying to pierce through his concentration. But he hadn't heard you, solely focused on when this bear would finally decide to leap. Or maybe he did and thought it was you being scared.

You shoved at his back, but he was like a brick wall, and you had nothing to ground yourself with.

You shouldn't have tried to push him, either. The second you tried to apply some force behind another shove, a chunk of stone came loose, allowing the ground beneath your feet to give away.

You dropped with a cry, legs knocking hard into the fragmented pieces of stone, and you found yourself dangling, held aloft solely by the one strap of Jake's backpack. The elastic straps around your wrist had already snapped against your bandage, freeing your arm, and it waved out, reaching for something that had never been there in the first place.

Jake fell backwards at the weight, causing him to step back at an angle. He called out your name and tried to keep his eyes on the bear while trying to reach for you blindly. You were trying to bring your legs up to a section of stone that looked stable enough to not give under pressure so you might be able to grab his hand. But with how heavy your pack was, you couldn't gain enough momentum to swing your leg over, no matter how hard you tried.

Suddenly, his hand gripped the bend of your elbow hard enough that you were sure there would be bruises if either of you managed to get out of this in one piece.

"Let go, Midge! I'll pull you up!"

"The bear!"

"It's still deciding which one of us to eat first!"

"Don't take your eyes off it!"

"What do you think I'm doing? Picking daisies?!"

You weren't sure what was louder—the bear's unsettling clacking or the ominous sounds of stone shifting ominously under Jake's weight. The truth was, you didn't want to find out.

You let go, entrusting your entire weight into Jake's hold, crying out when you dropped a few inches. But whether it was your cry or Jake needing to ensure your safety over his own, he dared to take his eyes off the bear to glance over his shoulder.

That was all it took for everything to happen all at once.

The brief shift in his gaze, the twist of his waist, and the slight lean were enough to unsettle the already compromised ground beneath him. With a heart-sinking crack, the remaining piece of the cliffside he was perched on gave way.

The bear roared, charging forward at the prospect of losing its meal.  And Jake lost his balance, using the momentum to twist his body to fully face you, some last-minute attempt to ensure your safety if he could, with a look of a thousand promises he could never make nor keep.

But you didn't see it. You were too busy watching the last crumbling stone disappear from underneath Jake's boots before gravity took over, cruel and unforgiving, as you finally started to fall.

For a breathless moment, you were suspended in the air, Jake's figure falling forward with you, nothing but white overcast clouds behind him. His hand was still gripping your elbow, and his eyes were wide, the realization of what was about to occur striking him hard.

With a final decisive tug born out of desperation, Jake pulled you close as he tumbled over, your face colliding with the solid wall of his chest. His other arm wrapped around your back, around your bag, his body twisting mid-air with you in his grasp, ensuring in the split second before gravity claimed its due, you were on top of him, not beneath.

Then, with a terrifying rush, the two of you fell, the ground rushing up to greet you both. Another roar of the bear above faded into the roar of the wind in your ears. With the pit forming in the pit of your stomach, above the wind, the scream you produced vibrating against Jake's chest was worse.

What happened after that, you couldn't recall.

The world didn't fade but snapped to black.

Had to throw the cliffhanger in there somewhere? 😂😅💛

Taglist:

@desert-fern @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s @kmc1989 @fanficfandomlove @hookslove1592 @dakotakazansky

@teacupsandtopgun @lynnevanss @dizzybee03 @keyrani

@shanimallina87 @wildxwidow @dempy @stargazer-88 @alldaysdreamer @the-dark-and-mystery @bookchik15

@atarmychick007 @trickphotography2 @tinytotontheoversizedpony @buckysteveloki-me @wretchedmo

@redbarn1995 @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @yuckosworld @wren5650 @mrsevans90 @bellaireland1981 @tgmreader

@halibshepherd @essie1876 @formulafun @memoriesat30 @vicsnook @memoriesat30

Please let me know if Tumblr didn't notify you! I've been having issues with being tagged in things myself. If that is the case, I can work on trying to find an alternative.

Part 7 - My Blood - In-progress

#jake seresin

[wildxwidow]

is it too soon to do this yet? - jake 'hangman' seresin x f!reader

Word Count: 1,977 words

Summary: this aint for the best, my reputation's never been worse so, you must like me for me. we can't make any promises now can we babe? // is it cool that i said all that? is it chill that you're in my head? cause i know that it's delicate. is it cool that i said all that? is it too soon to do this yet? 'cause i know that it's delicate.

Content Warning: fluff!! possibly insta-love for those put off by that.

Author Note: first: i wrote something?? on time??? second: for @ohtobeleah 's galentines writings :))) unedited/unbetaed we die like idiots

you had been here for a good time. your friend was getting married and her bachelorette was taking place in this quiet coastal town near a naval base. had that been part of the appeal? absolutely. who didn't want to watch a bunch of walking red flags as they did their daily trainings on the beach?

a little dive bar friday night with a shoddy jukebox, cheap beer and countless sailors - it had been the most fortunate surprise when you'd walked in with no other plans but to show off your sashed friend.

luckily for your group, sailors were suckers for a good bride to be and her girl crew. even luckier for you since you'd been playing DD for the last three days of the five day trip and you were finally able to take a damned sip of alcohol, which you rightfully deserved. glass in hand, you approach the jukebox to survey the music choices as the other girls were served shots (you wanted a drink not a hangover). you're about to pick out a song when you realize the machine hadn't been modernized and it still took cash. sadly, you spin back to the bar but not before dousing the man behind you in the makings of your whiskey sour.

"fuck, i am so sorry-" a hand grips your arm and he shakes his head.

"no, no, don't worry, i'm just upset on your behalf. what a waste of good whiskey." you look up, green eyes charming their way into easing your guilt. "I was gonna offer you a song, but ugh- maybe i ought to offer you a drink instead?"

he ends up buying both.

and as your friends sing along to the ancient song on the jukebox, you sit with this lone aviator and get to know him. long after your friends have retreated to the airbnb.

it was funny to think that was almost a six weeks ago. you'd flown to california for one week of fun and never went back, thanks to a rouge cowboy with eyes that matched the jumpsuit he donned to work each day.

you'd been crashing at an short-term rental since your friend's bachelorette, save for the weekend of the actual wedding, when jake had been your plus-one. everyone had relished in how the string of fate had connected you like this.

they'd also spoken of how insane you were. to uproot your entire life for the sake of what was supposed to be a one night fling. but it didn't bother you. not when the expansive reach of his hand had guided you through crowds that night. had danced with you and made a part fool of you both. i am a fantastic dancer, i have no idea where these guys are getting the idea i'm a trainwreck. his voice so easy and content on the drive back to the hotel that night.

now here you were, cooking for the two of you in his apartment as you waited on your boyfriend to get back from work. the label was maybe a week old at this point, but it fit him like a damn glove. so much so you'd started reaching out to potential leasers to sublet your apartment back home. maybe you were rushing into this. your job had been fine with you staying out in california longer - you were remote anyways, that had been the main perk of the job. but moving? for a man you'd known maybe a month?

the door slams shut and the entire apartment shakes. jake's place was small, tiny even, so you're greeted with his tense expression the minute you look up from your spot at the kitchen counter. "hey baby, how was-"

"fine." he grits the word out, dropping his duffel to the floor and disappearing down the hall. the bedroom door shuts with a click instead of a bang this time.

this wasn't boding well for you. you had a grand plan to make dinner, watch movies and have a nice and easy night in together, maybe talk for a bit. you'd wanted to discuss going to see an apartment this weekend. you didn't want to move in together, but you needed to look for a place of your own instead of crashing here so much. if this was going down that road. yet, the pilot seems to be in the worst mood to have that kind of discussion.

when he finally comes back to the kitchen, he slinks in behind you and presses a quick kiss to your head. "how was that call you were dreading." he's changed out of his uniform, a pair of sweatshorts on his waist, a dark t-shirt on his shoulders as he glides to the fridge. the tension is still carried in his frame even if he isn't outwardly acting as if there is something bothering him.

"ugh, it was - it was fine." now you're shutting off just like he was. it might be just you mirroring his actions, or maybe it was more. uncertainty? uneasiness? doubt?

the crack of teeth on an apple pulls you from your mind. you look to the fruit in his hand as he steps out to the living room on the opposite side of the kitchen wall. "i- dinner is almost ready, you know."

the tv stirs to life, echoing off the walls of the bachelor pad. the lack of decorations or real furnishings had been one of your reasons for wanting to pull the trigger on the move. to have some of your belongings back in your life, some familiarity.

"yeah, i'll eat." finally you're over it. you're not taking this from him, not when you had shit on your own mind that needed to be addressed. turning the burner off you step out of the kitchen, coming to the coffee table and snagging the remote. with it switched off, he looks at you with offense. "i said i'd eat what is the big deal?"

"what is going on with you?" your hands come across your chest as hangman snags the apple with his teeth as he dives into his pocket for his phone.

"nut-ing" the word comes out odd since his jaw is unable to move. you raise your eyebrows at him, which earns a similar reaction from the blonde. groaning he pulls the apple from his mouth. "rough day at work. got my ass handed to me by my superior, everyone talking shit because i flew better than anyone else- just in a piss poor mood. i'm sorry." you stare at him with concern now. it was just a bad day? then why was he suddenly as secure as a vault? locked away with high tech security and an obnoxiously long passcode.

"that's not all of it." you pry, slowly coming to sit down next to him. but when you do, he immediately stands up.

"yeah it is." he moves over to the kitchen again, tossing the apple core away. frustration eats at you again, tilting your head as your tone sharpens as he starts to step down the hallway.

"are you going to talk to me like your girlfriend or just like some bitch you're keeping around? cause right now it feels more like the second one." he freezes and his head drops back.

"look, i don't do the talking about emotions thing, i don't do the-"

"oh bullshit." you stand and march down the hallway, coming to stand behind him as his head sinks. "you put your heart on your sleeve when i saw you cry at dane and avery's wedding. and when you laughed to me about your childhood dog when you were drunk the night before at the rehearsal. or how you just seemed to stare at me with no concern in the world when we went out for ice cream last week - you do emotions. you do them and you feel them more heavily than most people i know." he slowly spins to look at you. "so start talking." the command is softer than the rest of your words.

finally, he relents. you sit on the couch with bated breath as he explained that he doesn't have the social life he had presented to you that first night. that his coworkers all think he's an asshole, that he's a dick and he isn't the kind of person to be friends with. "up until now, i didn't think i was the kind of person to be a boyfriend, let alone a friend."

it stung a little. jake as little as you had known him, had been one thing - confident. reassured in his personality and his work. he had this charisma around him that lured you in without him needing to really try. "i don't know how you believe that." you speak softly, pushing hair out of his face as it falls, gel from this morning weak from the impact of G-force pressures and california humidity. "you're a fun guy. you always make me laugh. i feel so.. safe around you. it's hard to imagine anyone else not appreciating that like i do."

jake's laid back on the couch now, looking up at you before looking at the ceiling. "yeah, well i guess the reality is that i'm easy to hate, hard to love. an acquired taste."

"that couldn't be further from the truth." it slips out so easily. green eyes perk up in curiosity.

"angel, i'm- to make it quick, i'm a menace. people know my callsign and they know my reputation. a selfish dick looking to get to the top and on top of women. hell, i don't know why you've stuck around as long as you have, so clearly somehow i've rubbed off on you."

your legs shift as you try to adjust on the couch to look at him better. "jake, i'm not going to be that girl. it would be a little weird if i was that girl, i mean, it's been what, a month?" he's slowly raising onto his elbows when you start in your ramblings, "but, you just- you take me by surprise in the best way, at every turn. yeah, sure they have some idea of you but it's not jake. it's not the guy who's impulsively buying karaoke machines to have idiotic nights in, or the guy who's sneaking pictures before anyone can notice because you're sentimental. or even the guy who hides the tears in his eyes at the end of how to train your dragon-"

he points at you with an amused expression, "you saw the way that dragon curls around him, he saved him." you can't hold back the laugh.

"my point is: hangman is so, so far from jake. cause i mean, i love jake, he's... he's my guy. and i don't get what's so hard to love about that." you give a small smile until it computes in your head what you've said. "i ugh..." jake keeps a coy grin on his features, leaning into his chin now that he's rolled onto his stomach, knowingly catching onto what you've said. "is it cool that i said that? i mean i- we can pretend that i didn't and forget this ever happened-"

he cuts you off with a soft press of lips to your own. the taste of apple juice still lingers on his chapped skin, before he pulls away. "it's cool." he offers, a hand coming to take your own.

"i promise i won't say it again." there's a mad blush on your face and jake just laughs.

"ah, don't you go promising nothing. let's just go finish dinner, yeah?"

and jake takes his rightful place next to you at the stove, towering over you as his head bounces along to the music you've put on, glancing at apartment listings that you pull up.

#jake seresin #fic rec

[wildxwidow]

Drive Me Crazy - Chapter 6.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 1438

Warnings Strong language, the intention of violence and a whole heap of protective Travis!

Huge thank you to the Anon who sent this in! They had such amazing words to say about my writing which I massively appreciate and then to top it off, had an incredible request for me! I only have experience with mechanics in the UK, so I’ve tried my best with this one! “I just recently got interested in Travis K. X reader stories and wanted to let you know, I read all of yours as quickly as I could. They are so well done and I couldn’t help but laugh/giggle and feel through each word you typed out. You’re doing amazing and I’m so glad to have stumbled onto your page. If you have any space for a request, I’d be curious about what Trav would think about having a military (like fighter pilot) or engineer or mechanic girlfriend. I see a lot of stories with him paired with models/singers/social media individuals (which are phenomenal!) but just wondering how he would be with a more tomboy like girlfriend!”

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

"Who's Jordan?"

You winced as you rose from the bed, grabbing your deep red satin robe from the corner of your door, "He works at the shop with me."

"Okay?" Travis said, his voice indicating confusion.

"I don't know why he's here." You mumbled quickly as your fingers fumbled with the ties, "He must be wasted."

Travis held himself up with an elbow, watching carefully as you stepped towards your front door. The cool hardwood flooring gave your skin a slight sting as your feet made contact. You paused for a second, your hand ghosting the handle, before pulling the door open.

Jordan was leaning against the wall, his head lowered to the floor, his balance unsteady. You glanced over your shoulder and looked to Travis, rolling your eyes and shrugging your shoulders quickly.

"Jordan?" You said impatiently.

His head quickly snapped up to meet your gaze, his expression vacant, "Hey, you took ages." His slurred speech was enough to confirm your suspicions.

You took a small step forward, holding the door open with your foot, "What are you doing here?"

"I was out...at a bar. And I lost my phone so I couldn't call a cab."

"You want to use my phone?" You pointed your thumb over your shoulder.

Jordan sloppily adjusted his messy, brown hair before reaching out for your hand, "Or I could...stay here?"

"I don't think that's a good idea." You retreated away from his grasp.

His eyebrows grew closer together, his confusion clear, "Oh come on...don't play me like that."

"I'm not playing you like anything, Jordan." You smiled politely and confidently stepped towards the door to block the entrance way, "I think you should go."

Jordan stumbled as he took a step, his eyelids drooping, "All this time... you've been flirting, leading me on-"

"Woah, that's not true." You held your palm up as Jordan grew closer, "We're friends, remember?"

Jordan's face twisted, his head swaying from side to side, "Are you fucking serious? I thought we were...you know? You...you let me crash here?"

"One time, Jordan. Because I didn't want you to drive home after 12 beers."

His hand grazed your hip, "You flirt with me...at work...and shit...now you're-"

An anger was beginning to build up in your chest, "Jordan, we're friends."

"Girls don't have friends that are guys!" He said with a short laugh.

"I do."

"You watched as "Yeah, well. You're not a normal girl, are you?"

"A...normal girl?" You failed to hide the hurt in your voice.

Jordan, unaware of his poor choice of words, sighed before muffling his next incoherent sentence, "Yeah, a normal girl. You know what I mean? You don't make an effort or anything, you don't wear heels or nice dresses...like, it's fine-"

"Jordan, stop."

"But, I know you. No one knows you like I do. We would be perfect." He closed the gap between you, "And I mean, I don't see any other guys knocking at your door." He exhaled an arrogant laugh, his tongue placed firmly in his cheek.

You rolled your eyes slightly, not enough for him to notice and heard Travis moving softly in the bed. As you checked over your shoulder, Jordan followed your gaze, his demeanour immediately changing.

"Shit. That's fucking...Travis Kelce." Jordan shook his head as a small laugh escaped his lips, "You've got to be kidding me."

"Okay, time to leave."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Jordan repeated, his voice louder.

As you pulled the door inwards in an attempt to close it, Jordan struck the surface with his elbow, forcing his way inside. Travis immediately leapt out of the bed, quickly making his way to your rescue. You noticed that he had already put his boxers back on, presumably anticipating his interference.

"Alright, buddy." Travis said calmly, replacing your hand on the door with his own.

Jordan seemed to cower in Travis' presence, shrinking in size figurately and quite literally. His cool and loose physicality switched for stiff and hunched shoulders but his intoxicated brain couldn't stop his mouth.

"Hey. I'm not your buddy." He retorted.

Travis smiled at you before turning back to Jordan, "The lady said no. She would like to leave, so why don't you be on your way."

His stern words sounded more like an order than a question and your heart gently fluttered as you watched your knight in shining armour defending your honour. Your emotions quickly flipped to dread as Jordan puffed his chest up and took a couple of woozy steps towards Travis.

"So, you think you can just muscle your way in, getting her tickets and sending her flowers, why? Because you're famous or something? Look, if you just want to fuck the girl, why are you going through all of this effort? Is she really worth it?"

Your chest quickly stung and a redness was flushing to your cheeks. A part of your brain knew it was the alcohol talking, but it still pained you to hear these words coming from someone who you considered to be a friend.

Suddenly, Jordan's hands were pressed against Travis' solid chest, shoving him slightly backwards.

"Jordan? What are you doing?" You hissed.

Your widened eyes quickly flashed to Travis, who did not seem phased at all. Instead, he simply rubbed his beard down and cleared his throat, keeping eye contact with Jordan.

"I don't think you've thought this through. You see, you have two options. Either you keep at me and I end up throwing your sorry ass out of this apartment building, possibly ruining any remaining self-respect and friendship with Y/N that you got left." Travis' gruff voice was clear and concise, it was more than enough to turn you on. "Or, you turn away and leave now, deal with a killer of a hangover in the morning and arrange an apology in the way of a delicious meal at a very expensive restaurant for my girl here." He nudged your arm with his as you looked up at him through your eyelashes, you mouth gaping open in absolute awe.

Jordan stayed still, processing Travis' words before his head rolled backwards and a loud sigh left his lips, "Fucking...whatever, bro."

He started to turn away but Travis spoke up with a deep growl, "Hey. I'm not your bro."

Jordan's eyes flashed slightly with fear, before half closing as he stumbled away from you both. You stood in silence as you watched him disappear into the stairwell, the door clanging behind him.

You exhaled loudly, not realising that you had been holding your breath for a significant length of time. You felt as if your legs were about to give up on you, but before they had the chance, Travis' arms were enveloping you and bringing you impossibly close to him.

"Are you okay?" He said into your neck, your hair marginally muffling his words.

Your fingers began to graze the stubble on the back of his head, your face buried in his chest, "Oh yeah, I'm fine. That shit happens all of the time."

Travis pulled you away and held you at an arms length, his eyes lowered in concern, "For real?"

"Travis, I'm joking." You smiled, "Just trying to lighten the mood?" You shrugged your shoulder which were still held firmly in his large hands.

His eyes creased into a smile, "Oh baby, I can think of a better way to do that."

His voice growled again, making your knees weaken as he leaned in to gently place a kiss on you forehead. Your feet were swiftly swept up from underneath you and Travis carried you impressively towards your bedroom, your legs instinctively wrapping themselves around his waist. Your surroundings darkened as you entered the bedroom and Travis gave your ass a gentle squeeze as he lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. You bent your knees and straddled his waist, ending up face to face with him.

Your hands moved to cradle the sides of his jaw, "Thank you."

The corners of his full lips barely raised into a smile, but his eyes glittered, "No problem."

You could feel his hands clinging to your back, his fingers tracing circles into the satin fabric that was covering you. A small shiver rolled over your body and you took your bottom lip between your teeth. Travis' eyes flickered to your mouth and his eyebrows raised.

"Did that turn you on?" He said with a surprise.

You rolled your hips a little, "Maybe. I don't know? I just felt...protected."

Travis' mouth moved into a wide grin, as he breathed a laugh, "Hey. I got no issue with that."

______________________________________________________________

As per unusual, I whole-heartedly apologise for the wait on this one. I'm still feeling a little bit of a writing slump and I'm finding everything really hard to get going...I really hope it doesn't show! The next chapter will be the reader going to the Chiefs game and her Dad being absolutely adorable so I am actually looking forward to that one! If anyone has any ideas for this story, please feel free to throw them my way! As always, let me know if you want to be added to my Taglist and any comments or reblogs are always much appreciated!

Taglist @rd14 @dandelionwrites8 @keiva1000 @fantasywritersstuff @caelipartem @anacarangel @she-lives-in-her-dreams @kkrenae @kristencochefski1125 @countrygirl120983 @charmed2000 @nouis-bum @cixrosie @delicateearthquakellama @wordsaresimple-imnot @amylouwho9 @queenisa17 @talicat713 @luvvtrent @purecinnamonextract @savaneafricaine @caelipartem @beyxgrande @caitdaniels @ezgirl1108 @vir-tual @lightsoutstyles @macey234 @s294749w @kelcemesoftly @calirindo @livinginmyfantasies @bernelflo @secretmywritingfictionlawyer @killatravtramp @there-goes-thefighter @unicornblueberry @calirindo @tjkelce87 @kristinamae093 @kmc1989 @ajbird18 @triski73 @ctn26 @kgcaputo07 @abby-splace @bobthe-turmpetman29 @cedricbitch @abby-splace @jmamas92 @bellstwd @killatravsworld @marchmaiden @chimchimmarie @blackstabbath6 @fanficfanatic15 @jessiemariebarnes @mmb219 @vanwritesfan-fiction @futebollover @ks-dreams-fantasies @laurenmcucm @blackstabbath6 @nickie-amore @fictionqueen87 @munsonburner666 @hornyavengers @spookystitchery @powellssaturn

#travis kelce