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steddiecameraroll · 5 months

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both POVs on ao3

Eddie comes to a skidded stop outside the sailor themed ice cream shop. His Sam Goody bag slams into his shin from the sudden movement.

“Ow, shit.” He winces but tries to ignore the pointed pain from the corner of one of his brand new tapes poking his leg, and stares ahead at what he imagines must be an illusion.

Steve The Hair Harrington has his arm deep into some chocolate looking concoction, and suddenly Eddie wants to taste it. He’s not even much of an ice cream guy but this he cannot pass up.

Like a siren’s song, the little polyester shorts the sailor man is wearing calls to Eddie. He wonders if he could slide both of his hands up through the bottom of the legs.

Eddie steps into the bright lights and his ears fill with some ridiculous theme music. He wonders if Steve has ever tried to disembowel the sound system. Eddie would help him if he wanted assistance.

“Ahoy there!”

Eddie stands back watching Steve interact with a group of old classmates. He recognizes the young women from a couple of his classes last semester. Steve’s clearly flirting with them and missing by a mile.

Eddie hates to admit, even to himself, watching Steve fumble brings a smidge of joy to his heart. He may not be delusional and think that means he has a chance with Steve, but it does give him some kind of weird twinkle of hope anyway.

Right after the gaggle of women walk away, Eddie sees Steve lower his head and bang it gently on the countertop causing his adorable little hat to slip from his head.

“Buck up sailor boy,” Eddie grabs Steve’s hat and spins it around his finger.

Steve jolts and stands up, gawking at Eddie. “Munson? What are you…that’s my hat.” Steve snatches the regulated uniform accessory from Eddie’s finger and clutches it in his hand.

Eddie lets his eyes drag down the part of Steve’s body not hidden by the countertop, before flicking back to Steve’s face.

“Love the outfit, by the way. Really finishes off the whole ambiance.” Eddie wiggles his fingers around the space emphasizing the environment.

“I know it’s ridiculous, dude. You don’t have to rub it in.” Steve puts his hand on his hip and cocks his weight onto the opposite foot.

“Oh no, you misconstrue, my good man.” Eddie leans further into his hands coming closer to Steve’s face. “If I’m rubbing anything, it wouldn’t be your uniform.”

Eddie enjoys watching a beautiful blush rush up Steve’s neck onto his cheeks, before he diverts his attention onto the display case of flavors, giving Steve a moment to collect himself.

“What do you recommend?” Eddie runs his fingertip lazily across the glass.

“Um…” Steve takes a quick breath before putting on his customer service smile. “The USS Butterscotch is a favorite or the cherry’s jubilee. What do you usually get when you eat ice cream?”

“Wanna know a secret?” Eddie playfully whispers while leaning over the case.

“Um, ok.” Steve leans in closer.

“I’m more of a salty treat kinda man,” he winks, surprising himself with the weird level of confidence he’s slipped into.

Steve furrows his brows before leaning away and nervously scratching the back of his neck. He tries to chuckle in response as if understanding what Eddie’s implying but Eddie can tell Steve has no idea what he’s talking about.

“Well, then maybe-um-a parfait? Peanut butter? Or nuts…something with nuts?”

Eddie bites on his bottom lip trying to stifle a childish giggle keeping his eyes on the naive, adorable, sailor man. When Steve’s words finally register in his brain he awkwardly swallows hard, and shuffles on his feet trying to busy himself with something behind the counter.

“I could go for some nuts.” Eddie leans on his arms over the case. “What kinda nuts do you have, Stevie?”

“Um, just- y’know- normal ones. What kind do you like?” Eddie tracks the slow swipe of Steve’s tongue across his bottom lip.

Eddie lowers his voice before responding. “I’m sure I’d like anything you give me, captain.”

“Jesus,” Steve quietly huffs. “Uh, how about our peanut butter brickle topped with our candied almonds?”

Eddie keeps his eyes on Steve tracking his awkward movements behind the counter. Steve spins his scooper mindlessly in his palm, trying to channel his nervous energy.

“Sounds delicious. I’ll have one of those. Is there a show or anything I get with my treat?”

“A show?” Steve asks while grabbing a parfait cup from the stack on the countertop.

“Was just curious if there’s some kind of song or dance you have to perform in this adorable little outfit. Y’know, like that one restaurant in Chicago, Ed Debevic’s?”

Steve scrunches his nose and slides open the glass case. “I don’t know what that is.”

“Really? It’s this 50’s diner place where the staff are dicks. Nothing? Really?”

Steve shakes his head while reaching his arm deep into the ice cream tub. Eddie lowers his face to watch Steve through the glass. He wonders how sticky Steve is at the end of a shift.

“Is there a shower back there?”

“What?”

"In the back. Was just curious if you go home sticky or not."

"Um...no, I mean yes I'm generally pretty sticky at the end of my shift, but there's no shower...in the back. There's not really anything back there. Only a table and some safety posters, a white board that Robin shames me with." He trails off and Eddie wishes he could see this white board.

"Shames you? Robin...?" He has a hunch but isn't sure.

"Buckley? From school."

"Yeaaahhh, that's what I thought. Good for her." He means it.

Steve scrunches his face while finishing off the disgustingly sweet display of tasty deliciousness.

“Anything else I can get for you?” Steve gives Eddie his best customer service smile while setting the ice cream on top of the case.

A wicked grin spreads across Eddie’s face. “Naw I’m good. Unless… there’s something available that’s not on the menu.”

Eddie knows Steve is naive. Has never once picked up on his blatant flirting over the years, or at least doesn’t let it rattle him. But this utter display of fantasy is rotting away at Eddie’s resolve, and he’s seconds away from asking to suck on Steve’s sticky fingers.

He leans in front of the register and looks up at Steve through his eyelashes.

Pretty pretty boy.

“Um,” Steve looks around the empty restaurant, and then glances at something over Eddie’s head before turning his attention back. “Y-yeah, there is actually.”

Eddie thinks maybe he’s about to choke on his tongue as he attempts to swallow, waiting for Steve to continue.

“It’s in the back. Um, in the-in the break room. Wanna see it? Maybe?”

The fluorescent lighting above makes the beautiful shade of pink Steve’s cheeks are, into a warm glow. Eddie thinks he might be hearing angels sing or maybe it’s the dumb sailor music, but whatever it is it’s definitely music to his ears.

“Yeeaaah, definitely need to see it. Maybe wanna taste it even.”

Steve’s mouth is parted prettily, making Eddie wonder if his own tongue could slide between them easily.

Steve nods and bites down on his bottom lip, while motioning Eddie to follow around the opening of the countertop.

“Cool, very cool.” Steve walks backwards keeping his eyes on Eddie.

When Eddie steps behind the counter, taking in the entire outfit, he can’t control the subtle groan that emanates from his chest.

He’s gonna fuck this sailor silly.

They reappear 17 min later to a puddle of melted peanut butter brickle, an annoyed Erica Sinclair, and a better understanding of Eddie’s love of nuts.

Steve’s POV now both POVs on ao3

coffee? ☕️🍩💕

#eluding to a bj #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steddiecameraroll posts #my writing

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sometimesanalice · 11 months

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Hey, Sailor

Summary: It’s Fleet Week and Rooster would rather be anywhere else than on the flight deck of the USS Portland. That is, until a pretty thing in a sundress catches his eye and then suddenly his day is looking up.

Pairing: Bradley”Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 5.8K

Warnings: Flirty Banter, Smut, and Bradley Bradshaw in Summer Whites (Minors DNI)

Note: When @roosterforme asks you to write her a Fleet Week fic, you write the Fleet Week fic! Here you go, Em! 💛

Normally, Rooster loved Fleet Week.

He loved the lively atmosphere and the parades. He loved the free drinks that were handed to him as soon as he entered a bar. And he especially loved all the attention he got from women when he wore his Summer Whites.

He usually came back to the ship looking less than pristine with lipstick on the collar of his uniform and hidden on other places on his body.

The USS Portland was teaming with excited families and camera-happy civilians taking in the sights from deck of the transport ship as they settled in for the five-hour journey to the San Diego. It was a Fleet Week tradition to welcome people aboard for an immersive experience, picking them up from a port further up North and then cruising along the coast before making their final docking for the week.

There were grills set up on the deck and the smell of flame kissed hamburgers and hotdogs mixed with the sea salt air. The sun was shining and the mood was light.

But this year, Rooster simply could not be bothered to give a fuck.

Especially not when he could have been home already instead of being stuck giving tours on a ship that he’d never even stepped foot on prior to three days ago when he and Hangman had been given orders to join in the procession on the vessel into the city after completing a short training deployment.

His superiors had okay-ed the terrible suggestion from some random Public Relations Specialist who clearly didn’t realize that he had better things to do with his time.

Early that morning, Bradley had stood on the dock with his arms crossed and wearing an impassive scowl as they had lifted his Super Hornet onto the flight deck like it was some kind of decorative hood ornament.

Sure, it was fun to watch the kids’ eyes get wide with excitement as they ooh-ed and ahh-ed over the features as he pointed them out, but he was getting hot and uncomfortable in his uniform in the mid-afternoon sun on the black tarmac.

He’d rather be in his service khakis like Seresin. Or better yet, naked at home in his own bed.

How Hangman had weaseled himself onto barbecue duty with a beer in his hand, Rooster would never know. The bastard probably played his Texan sir, I came out of the womb grilling shtick.

And every time he passed by the son of a bitch would give him a cocky salute with his tongs.

Jake was irritating on the best day, but today he was downright insufferable.

And he knew it had everything to do with the fact that Hangman’s girlfriend was laughing and lingering at his side, having surprised him by flying in with tickets for the coastal cruise.

At least someone was having a nice time, because it sure as shit wasn’t him.

Rooster was in the process of wrapping up his fourth tour of the day and handing out a couple of Dixie Cup hats to kids on the landing deck on the stern when he was stopped dead in his tracks and had to do a double take because he eyes were definitely playing tricks on him.

You were the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

And he swore for a minute time slowed down as you flashed the most gorgeous smile at some Junior Officer as you laughed along with whatever undoubtedly stupid joke he’d told you. All while the wind played with the ends of your hair.

You looked like such nice girl, such a good girl in your pretty light blue sundress.

The sun was bouncing off your shoulders and the little ruffle at the hem was taunting him with the way it danced around your thighs. It coasted over your curves like water, and fit you just snug enough that there wouldn’t be any Marilyn Monroe moments on deck, much to his disappointment. But the blow was cushioned by the stunning display of your smooth, shapely legs.

From the way your breasts bounced as you walked, he knew there was no way in hell you had a bra on under that little dress.

He’s never been able to resist a bad girl wrapped up like the girl-next-door.

From the second he saw you, he knew you were just his type.

And for the first time that day Bradley is grateful to be wearing the crisp, pressed Summer Whites.

He knew how good his biceps looked in the short sleeves of his uniform. And the way his pants clung to his legs and ass. He’d been spending a lot of his free time in the gym lately and it showed.

He never did mind playing An Officer and a Gentleman when the occasion presented itself, he was always happy to help fuel some fantasies.

The last time he had worn this uniform out during Fleet Week he ended up going home with an absolute smokeshow, so hopefully whatever appeal his uniform had for him back then can still work for him now.

Fleet Week was finally looking up for him.

However, what he didn’t like was the fact that the butterbar was still dominating your attention.

He wanted that smile turned on him. Wanted to see if the look in your bright eyes would be just as playful with your gaze pinned on him instead. He wanted to be the one making you laugh.

It’s not like he’s going to go over there and lick your face like a kid might try and claim dibs on a cupcake.

No, he was going to act in accordance to his rank and station as an Officer in the United States Navy.

Securing the white cap on his head from where it’s been tucked under his arm at every opportunity he’s had that day, he straightens up to his full height and purposefully struts over to you.

Bradley’s never been one to shy away from making an entrance.

He forcefully taps the younger officer’s shoulder, and glances down when the guy turns around to get a look at his name tag.

“Ensign Hubbard, you’re up for civilian tour duties. The next one is due to start at 1400,” he looks down at his watch for dramatic effect, “Which is in about 10 minutes on the starboard bow, so you best get going if you don’t want to be late, junior.”

He might feel a little guilty for springing this on the kid if it wasn’t entirely within his right to assign him the nonexistent task 684 feet in the opposite direction- a fact he learned in preparation for giving tours all day- and away from you.

Especially when he sees how flustered the guy gets as he rushes through his salute and the stammered apologies he gives you before he takes off in a brisk jog heading towards the other side of the ship.

He stands up a bit taller and makes himself a bit broader as your eyes sweep over him.

“Apologies for interrupting, ma’am. But I’d be happy to pick up where the Ensign has left off.”

There’s no missing the appraising interest in them as you take him in.

“The tours are starting at the front of the ship now, are they?” you muse out loud with a little tilt of your head. “What are all those folks over there are lining up for then, I wonder?”

You point deliberately to the group of people who are currently being greeted by the Lieutenant who was scheduled to relieve Rooster of tour duties for the next hour.

“Mm, that sure is a mystery. But Hubbard seems like a smart kid, I wouldn’t worry too much about him.” He shrugs with an unapologetic smirk on his face.

You lift a pointed eyebrow at him.

“So, you sent him away…” the almost-but-not-quite question trailing in the breeze.

“I sent him away,” he readily agrees with a nod. His eyes catch on a golden heart-shaped locket that you’re wearing around that dainty neck as it glints in the sunlight.

A smug smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you notice where his eyes have dropped too, “You’re not even going to deny it, Sailor?”

“Nope,” he says with a grin. “And actually, it’s Lieutenant Commander.”

“Ok, Lieutenant.”

“Commander.”

You hmm contemplatively like his rank was somehow up for debate, toying with that damn little heart-shaped locket in a way that was tempting his eyes to drift further down.

Rooster didn’t think it could be possible, but you’re even prettier up close. He knew you’d be stunning, but he couldn’t have prepared himself for the way your mischievous eyes sparkled magnetically. Or for the warmth spreading in his chest with the way you are broadly smiling at him now.

The top buttons of your dress are undone one more than would be strictly considered family friendly. But Bradley wasn’t bothered by that in the least.

Clearing his throat, he notes, “It’s a nice day for a sail.”

“Ensign Hubbard and I already covered that rather riveting subject earlier,” you tease while looking at him like well, what else have you got.

“Let me try again then.” If you wanted him to put in the work, he was more than up for the challenge. “What brings you for a casual five-hour cruise down the coast on one of the Pacific Fleet’s finest?”

“Now that’s not something we got to before he was telling me about what his ribbons meant in great detail,” you say with a laugh. “Would you believe me if I said I had a deep appreciation for $1.6 billion-dollar ships purchased with Uncle Sam’s defense budget?”

He gives you a half smile as he pretends to contemplate it for a moment, “You know, for some reason, I can’t say that I would.”

“Well, shucks,” you say with an over exaggerated shrug. “What about if I said I was roped into waking up at an ungodly hour to catch a flight up here because my best friend’s boyfriend is a Naval aviator and she wanted me to keep her company for the ‘casual five-hour cruise’, as you called it.”

“Now that I believe,” he drawled. “So, what’s his name?”

“Well, she calls him Jacob. He has one of those silly callsigns too, but I always forget it,” you scrunch your nose adorably as you search for it, “Something-man.”

“You mean Bagman?”

“Yeah, that sounds right.”

He smirks to himself.

“I take it you know him then?” You wait for his nod before looking up at him from under your lashes and asking him, “Does that mean you have a callsign too?”

“Yes, ma’am. It’s Rooster.”

He doesn’t miss the way you glance down, and he definitely doesn’t hold back his pointed smirk waiting for your eyes to meet his again.

And when he gives you a cocky raise of his eyebrow, all you do is shrug.

You didn’t just look like his type, you are exactly his type.

“Rooster Bradshaw, huh?” you ask, reaching out to tap a finger on rectangular name tag on his chest. “I take it you have a first name, Lieutenant Commander?”

“Sure do,” he drawls, “But it only seems fair that I get yours in return.”

You grin knowingly at him. His cheek ticks up as you stick your hand out towards him and give him your name. It’s pretty and suits you perfectly.

Bradley says it out loud savoring the syllables in his mouth as he shakes your outstretched hand. And he gives you his in exchange.

He likes how much smaller your hand looks in his.

“Since it seems like your friend has ditched you, what do you say about getting a tour? Not to brag, but I’ve been doing it all day and I’ve got it down to a science now.”

“A private tour? Lucky me,” you purr. “Lead the way Lieutenant Commander Bradley Rooster Bradshaw.”

You knew what you were doing, he’d give you that. And he was eating it up with a spoon ready to ask for second, third, and fourth helpings.

It’s less busy on the flight deck, as people are collecting around the grills waiting for their turn in the buffet lines for the late lunch.

He starts off by showing you his aircraft, giving you a brief rundown of its features.

You run a hand over the body of his fighter jet as he wraps up his now well-practiced spiel, “Do I even want to know how much taxpayer money contributed to this?”

“It depends. Does your appreciation for Uncle Sam’s defense collection extend to F/A-18s too? Or is that strictly reserved for amphibious transport vessels?”

“I’ll keep you posted after I get the full tour,” you say coyly.

“Well then, I shouldn’t keep a lady waiting then. Should I?”

“No, you certainly should not,” you agree.

He guides you past the table that’s set up with squadron memorabilia for people to buy and to the door with a hand on your low back. He’s close enough to smell your perfume now, he wants to bury his nose in your neck to inhale the scent directly from the source.

Rooster navigates the two of you like a pro through the narrow passageways as he takes you to the mess hall where coffee and pre-sliced cakes awaited tour guests. From there he takes you to the galley, the wheelhouse, the engine control room, the 24-bed hospital ward, and the massive hull used to transport heavy machinery.

You as him thoughtful questions every now and then. And he does his best to answer them. The two of you drift closer and closer, it doesn’t escape his notice the way you brush against him when you pass by to get a closer look at some of the things he shows you.

It’s easily his favorite tour of the day.

He loves the sound of your laugh as he tells you about some of the mischief that he and members of his squadron managed to avoid getting caught doing.

Along with some of the things that they did get caught doing.

Your teasing grin and witty banter and little sundress have done a number on him. And he isn’t ready to wrap this up by delivering you back on deck until the absolute last minute he has to resume his official tour duties again.

So when he circles back to the airwing, instead of turning left when he should, he leads you to the ladder that would take you down a level.

And he knows he shouldn’t, that he could get in some big trouble for showing you areas that weren’t explicitly on the official list of tour stops. But he’s always been more of the apologize later type.

Plus, he hasn’t been on this ship for very long, it’s not his fault if he manages to get conveniently turned around.

Bradley waits at the bottom of the steep ladder, actively looking anywhere else but up as you make your descent. When you’re at level with him, he helps you down the rest of the way with a steadying hand at your waist.

And when you turn around he doesn’t step back.

You reach up and run a playful finger along the brim of his cap, “So what’s a girl got to do to get a turn wearing the hat?”

His mind flashes with images of the last time he’d let a woman wear it.

“I’ll have you know this is technically Naval property, they don’t let just anyone have one. You usually have to earn it. But for you?” he pauses and gives you a heated once over, “I’ll let you try it on for free.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want any special treatment,” you say demurely. “But I think in this case, Uncle Sam would understand. I’m a model citizen after all.”

He takes the cap off of his head and gingerly sets it on yours, “You’re something else, that’s for sure.”

It slides forward down your head, “Oh, it’s heavier than it looks.” And Rooster wishes he had his phone on him to get a picture for himself. He likes the way you look wearing his things.

“Looks good on you,” he hums, letting his finger brush against that little locket around your neck.

You run a bold hand down his chest, “Where to next, Lieutenant?”

This time he doesn’t bother to correct you, he knows the game you’re playing now.

Instead he grips your hips and pushes you against the ladder and brings his mouth to yours.You make a noise of surprise before your arms are wrapping around his neck to pull him in closer.

The kiss starts out light and teasing. Your lips are so soft beneath his. He gently grazes his teeth against your lower lip, before gliding his tongue along the seam of your mouth seeking entrance. The sweep of your tongue against his is everything. The soft moans escaping you are making his pulse thrum in his veins.

It would be so easy for him to get lost in the feeling of your perfect body against his and of the way your fingers were playing with the short hairs on the nape of his neck. But he’s already pushing the limits bringing you down here, he can’t get distracted by kissing you out in the open where anyone could stumble upon the two of you.

The small whimper that you make when he pulls away makes him grin. As does the sight of his cap sitting crookedly on your head.

He thumbs at the lipstick that’s smudged at the side of your mouth, “C’mon, I’ve got one more place I want to show you.”

This time he takes your hand as he guides you down the gray passageway and through the door on the left.

The ready room on the USS Portland is much smaller than the one’s he is familiar with from the aircraft carriers he is usually on, but the set-up is mostly the same. There are a couple of projection screens adhered on the bulkheads and there are a few rows of leather seats with a swivel tray tables attached to the arm rests.

“Tell me what happens in here.” You ask him so genuinely, so sweetly and he already knows he wouldn’t stand a chance against you with the way you flutter those eyelashes at him.

So he tells you.

He likes that you want to know these details about his job, he likes that he gets to share this with you. Even if the clock is ticking down before he has to get back on deck.

Rooster watches the tantalizing way your sundress dances around your thighs as you walk around the space. You take a seat in one of the chairs in the front row and pull the desk top over you before turning to him with a beaming smile with his cap still perched on your head.

And he is hit with a wave of affection for you so intense that it makes it hard for him to breathe for a moment.

He’s grateful when you see something else that catches your eye, giving him a moment to get himself back under control. You’ve got him feeling like he should be on his knees for you.

In the spot where he is used to seeing a lectern, on this ship there is a glossy wooden table inlaid with the ship’s coat of arm that you standing over.

“Does every ship have their own unique crest? Do you know what the symbols are for?”

He really needs to figure out who put him on tour duty and send them an Edible Arrangement or something. And maybe one for whoever put together the ten-page packet of “fun facts” that he had rolled his eyes at when he had first seen it.

“Yes, ma’am, I sure do.” He comes up to stand behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder as his arms cage you in against the table. “Yes, all ships come with their own. It’s something that the prospective commanding officers are responsible for designing when new ships are about to be launched.”

You lean forward a bit, gazing your ass against him, “Dark blue and gold are traditional Navy colors, right?” He hums confirmation into your neck, as he runs his mustache along your soft skin. He feels more than hears your sharp inhale. “What does the gear on the anchor mean?”

He drops a kiss to your shoulder, “The cog is a symbol of manufacturing, a nod to the ship’s namesake and the city’s history for building ships in World War II.”

You grab his wrist and bring his arm across your body, he takes the hint and presses in closer into you. “And the trident?”

God, you feel so perfect in his arms. Your body is fitting against his like a dream.

“The black symbolizes determination,” he murmurs into the space where you neck and shoulder meet. “And the choice of the three prongs is because it’s the third ship to be given the name.”

You lean your head to the side, and he takes the opportunity to trail open-mouth kisses up your neck. Your nails bite into his forearm in response, as you rock back against his rapidly hardening cock. “And the rose?”

“Portland is the City of Roses.”

“Does it have any other meaning?” you ask soft and breathy.

“It represents strong ties, baby. It’s a symbol for the supportive partners and wives of those serving onboard,” he whispers low and sweet into your ear.

“Bradley,” you sigh as you turn your head towards him for a kiss. It’s desperate and wet. And he can almost taste the neediness of your moan on his tongue.

He’s never done anything like this while on duty on a ship before, and the thrill of it has his veins thrumming with adrenaline.

“You’ve had me hook, line and sinker since the damn second I saw you.” He grinds himself against your ass and you whimper at the contact. “What do you want from me? I’ll be so good to you, so good for you.”

“Want you to touch me,” you pant into his mouth, “Want you to fuck me, Rooster. It’s the only thing I’ve been able to think about.”

“Fuck me.” He can feel his pulse thundering in his throat.

“I’m trying to,” you whine.

He barks a strained laugh before he spins you around, crowds you into the table. He doesn’t waste any time getting his lips back on yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You meet him stroke for stroke, just like you’ve been doing since the moment he laid eyes on you.

“This fucking dress,” he groans when he cups your breast through your fabric, as you fill his palm in just the right way. You arch your chest into his hand, and he was feeling entirely too self-satisfied in the confirmation that you weren’t wearing a bra. “Knew you weren’t a good girl.”

“So why are you treating me like one?” you taunt, breathlessly. Your greedy hands go straight to his cock, squeezing him through his pants.

Your hand feels so good on him.

“God, you’re so much fucking trouble,” he rasps, throwing his head back.You lean forward and your hot mouth works against the hollow of his throat.

He’s trying to undo some of the tiny buttons that line the front of your dress, but the teasing way your tongue is dipping out to trace the line of his tendon is making it hard for him to think.

“Are you gonna show me how you got that silly, little callsign of yours or not?” You give him one more squeeze, before bringing your hands up to the button of his white pants.

He knocks your hands out of the way before roughly grabbing your ass and hauls you firmly against him, “That feel little to you?”

Your gasp makes his fingertips dig further into your ass. The pretty color of your eyes has been completely eclipsed by your heavy, dark pupils. He can feel the way your thighs clench together.

“You want my attention? You’ve got it, baby,” he roughly rasps, “Go on then, show me how bad you can be.”

He dips his head down for a filthy, hungry kiss.

You push him back with a hand to his chest and a gleam in your eyes. You hold his heated gaze as you slowly undo his zipper and reach into his boxer briefs to pull him out. He moans when your thumb sweeps over the top of his cock.

Rooster thinks for a second that you’re going to drop to your knees for him, the mental image of you looking up at him with those doe-eyes is enough to make his jaw clench with desire. Especially with the way your sundress is gaping open at the top, giving him a clear view of the swells of your breasts.

Instead, you surprise him by bending over that glossy table and shimmying the skirt of your dress up over your luscious hips.

“Holy shit.”

You’re wearing the smallest, laciest little thong he’s ever fucking seen.

The band is a series of crisscrossed straps attached to some intricate and dainty floral lace. The juxtaposition of it against your skin is enough to make his ears ring. He’ll be dreaming of the way you’re enticingly arching your ass towards him for months.

And he’ll sure as shit never be able to be in a Ready Room again without getting a hard-on. The memory of you bent over the table before him will forever be ingrained in his brain.

“Is this bad enough for you, Lieutenant Commander?” You shoot him a grin over your shoulder as you wiggle your hips invitingly.

That sultry smile is swiped from your face the moment his large hand connects with your perfect ass. The sound echoes throughout the small room. He palms you once more before he yanks down your barely-there thong.

“Gonna fuck that attitude right out of you.”

Giving himself a few rough pumps, he lines himself up and slides into you with one steady thrust.

You both release an unrestrained groan of the sensation of him filling your warm, wet cunt. He barely gives you a moment to adjust to the size of him before he starts moving.

“’s big,” you sigh shakily.

“Tell me how much you like this cock.”

He slaps your pert ass again when you release a breathy whimper instead of answering him.

“Feels good, Rooster.” Your hands are struggling to find a way to support yourself as he fucks into you. “You feel so good.”

He pushes your dress higher up your body, his eyes are greedy for more of your skin. What he wouldn’t give to have you entirely naked and spread out before him. He wants to see all of you, he wants to hear you loud and needy for him.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he murmurs as he watches himself smoothly gliding in and out of you.

The little noises you are making are driving him crazy. He knows you’re trying to muffle your sweet moans and sighs and whines. The sound of your bodies coming together fills the room.

How his cap is still perched on your head he doesn’t know, it jostles every time your bodies come together.

“I need more,” you beg, “Need you to touch me.”

“Ask me nicely.” He punctuates the demand with a sharp snap of his hips.

“Please, Bradley. Please.”

He slides his hand around to the front of you, his fingers drawn to your clit like a magnet. You keen at the contact and tilt your hips into his hand. The sound is music to his ears, “That’s more like it.”

He doesn’t think there’s anything else better on the planet than being buried in your perfect pussy. You’re so wet for him. He already knows he’s going to need more of this, more of you.

“You’re taking me so well,” Bradley grunts as he speeds up his thrusts, “Looks like all you needed was a nice, thick cock. Just a sweet thing now, aren’t you?”

“Oh my god,” you gasp as you writhe against him. “F-fuck.”

He is so turned on by the way his hands span across you as he grips your waist and pulls you against him with every roll of his hips. His heart is racing in his chest.

The feeling of your body tensing around him is paradise. There is nothing he wants more than to be able to draw this out, but he is all too aware of how quickly time is slipping away from him.

He sets a rough and unrelenting pace. Redoubling his efforts on your clit, his indulgent strokes turn into tight, purposeful circles. And you cry out at the change of sensation on that sensitive part of you.

Your thighs start to tremble as his cock drags against that spot deep inside of you. The heat is pooling in his lower back as he fucks into you over and over again.

“Rooster, I’m gonna-”

“I know, baby. Let me feel it,” he murmurs hotly against your ear, his thumb rubbing back and forth across your clit. “Come on my cock like a good girl.”

The goosebumps erupt across your body like fireworks a moment before he feels you shiver and tremble beneath him as you come with a choked sob. The way you spasm and clench around him is dizzying.

Bradley is teetering on the edge, your cunt felt like heaven. Warm and wet and gripping him just right. He almost doesn’t want to give himself up to it as the pressure at the base of his spine intensified. He doesn’t want to stop fucking you.

You’re so perfect for him.

He loses himself to the feeling of your pussy milking him as you continue to pulse and writhe in the aftershocks of your orgasm. He grips your hips harder as he pounds into you before emptying himself inside of you with a shattered groan.

And for a moment all he can hear is the blood rushing in his ears as he works to catch his breath. Rooster feels like his knees might buckle as the soft whimper you make when he pulls out of you.

He gently pulls that lacy little thong back up and helps to pull your dress back down over your hips and thighs before turning you around and lifting you onto the custom table.

He doesn’t know how he is going to make it through the rest of the journey knowing his come is collecting in your panties.

You’re flushed and looking thoroughly well-fucked as you smile up at him brightly.

Bradley threads his finger under the chain of your little gold heart-shaped locket that was etched with a rose in full bloom, and lightly tugs you in closer for a lingering kiss.

“I see you found your gift early, baby.”

Bradley would never forget the first time he saw you that night at the bar downtown last year during Fleet Week.

He had noticed you right away, it had been impossible not to. You and your girlfriends had been all done up in hot pink outfits for the Bachelorette party you were out celebrating.

Your friend had flounced right up to Jake taking the shot of whiskey out of his hand before swallowing it down then cheekily offering to buy him a replacement. Hangman had been wrapped around her finger ever since.

While your friends had all but shoved you in his direction while he had looked on entirely entertained as you had shot a scathing glare back at them. A sparkling tiara that read Bridesmaid sat crookedly on your head.

And then you had greeted him with a “Hey, Sailor” so weak that the couldn’t help but let out an amused laugh. There was a split second where he thought that he might have fucked it up before it could even start, but then you smiled back at him.

It was a charmingly self-deprecating smile and he was yours from the moment he saw it.

“Hiding it in your nightstand next to the batteries wasn’t the most original of spots, Rooster,” you affectionately tease him. “I didn’t mean to peek, but the remote stopped working. I hope you’re not mad. I love it.”

He could never be mad at you, especially not with his necklace around your neck. You were his, and he was so gone for you.

“It looks so pretty on you,” he tells you softly as his fingers brush over your collarbones.

“Oh my god, Rooster, I can’t we defiled Naval property.” You giggle as you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer to circle your arms around his neck.

“I hate to break it to you, but you’ve been defiling Naval property ever since you brought me home with you the night we met.”

You take that cap off of your head and set it back on his, and lean in to kiss him on the cheek, “Glad I’m getting a good return on my taxes then.”

He snorts a laugh, “God, I’ve missed you, baby. What are doing here? I thought you weren’t coming until the end of the week.”

“And miss the visual and culinary offerings of the USS Portland? I wouldn’t dream of it.” You joke as you run your hands along his arms where they’re pressed on the table on either side of you. “This uniform drives me just as crazy as it did last year.”

“Just the uniform?” he asks as he nudges his nose against yours.

“Maybe it has a little something to do with the man in the uniform,” you make a little hum as you check him out. “You’re so tan, Bradley, have you been using the sunscreen I sent with you-”

He crushes his mouth to yours, you were undoubtedly best thing that’s ever happened to him during Fleet Week.

“I’m glad I still do it for you,” he murmurs against your mouth before giving you another deep kiss.

The two of you work quickly to get yourselves looking presentable again. He’s only got a little time left before he is due to return to his tour duties back on deck.

He helps you back up the ladder and takes that left turn when he’s supposed to this time. All while your hand is tucked securely in his.

When you’re both back on the open flight deck he walks you over to the railing along the edge of the ship and wraps you up in his arms to watch the coastline crawl by with his last few moments of freedom.

“I really love Fleet Week,” you say with a contented sigh, as you lean your head back against his shoulder.

The golden rays from the sun are hitting you in a way that makes his chest warm.

“I do too, baby. It’s the best.”

Yeah, Rooster fucking loves Fleet Week.

Who doesn’t love a man in Summer Whites?! Consider this my formal petition for more Dress Whites in TG3!

Thank you for reading!

Hey, Sailor Moodboard

A peek inside the USS Portland One | Two

If you’re curious, here is some info on the crest I found! One | Two | Three

You can check out my other stories and series here!

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roosterforme · 5 months

Text

Always Ever Only You Part 22 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was never one to shy away from a dangerous mission, and this one had a lot at stake for a lot of reasons. As you tried to pass the time without him at home, it was frustrating having no idea when he might return. Then a phone call when you're out shopping almost brings you to tears.

Warnings: Swearing, mission related angst, smut, fluff, mentions of hostages

Length: 5100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

Bradley sat in his unmarked F/A-18, ready to launch from catapult two, and the only lights he could see came from the deck of the USS Nimitz and the radar screen reflecting onto his canopy. As soon as he was launched and his teammates were in the air as well, the aircraft cruiser deck would go black. His radar screen would be dimmed. The moon and stars overhead would become more prominent. He would be flying in the darkest conditions of his career.

This seat felt foreign to him. The whole jet did. He really missed his own aircraft which was sitting on the tarmac in San Diego. You were in San Diego. He couldn't believe he just talked to you over facetime a handful of hours ago. It felt like he hadn't seen you or heard your voice in a year. Every minute felt like a hundred. Every breath he took felt like it made his harness straps just a little bit tighter.

The headset in his helmet crackled to life. "Rooster, prepare to launch in one minute."

"Standing by," he replied, running his thumb over his silicone ring one more time before pulling on his gloves. He waited and waited, ready for action. His adrenaline was waiting just under the surface. When he launched off the deck followed by Havoc, Dugout and Richmond, he gained a little altitude and led them in a slow loop around the carrier, watching for the lights on deck to go out.

Then they did, and it was just darkness all around. It was more disorienting than he anticipated, and his breath caught in his throat as he thought of you in the dark bedroom at home, alone. He needed to get back there.

Bluebird and Wilbur were already miles ahead, working with the slower comanche which was trying to get crystal clear real time imaging for the Seal team. "Approaching the coastline," Bluebird said, and Bradley heard her through his headset. "Comanche in position. Fly, Rooster."

And that was the code not only for Bradley's team to move toward the airstrip at maximum speed, but also the signal that the only conversation allowed now would be through a specific code. "Juniper whiskey," he spoke, realizing he would sound like an idiot to anyone who wasn't involved with Operation Loophole. But in his side mirrors, he could see the barest outlines of the other jets following him at his current speed of 600 knots.

When he gave the verbal command to steadily drop altitude, the lights of the cities and towns below grew brighter as they approached the coastline. "Idaho whiskey."

It felt strange to drop altitude so quickly once they neared the airstrip. Bradley's initial reaction was to ready missiles for deployment, but there would be no weapons used today. He wasn't even equipped with a single missile let alone the six he normally was. They were not to fire upon anyone; they were to avoid being hit at all costs. The only thing they had on their side was the surprise attack and the plan that they cobbled together.

"Lima Lima," Bradley said once he could see the airstrip, and he and Dugout dipped so low, Bradley could tell what color uniforms the officers walking around the well lit tarmac were wearing. So low in fact, he could hear the alarms blaring before he and Dugout hit six G's for a fast altitude gain. Bradley could see Havoc and Richmond outlined by the moon as he climbed. Without a single WSO on the mission, there was nobody to inform him whether or not the enemy jets were taking to the sky. He had to wait until Havor or Richmond saw something of use. And then he finally heard it.

"Hot sauce."

Bradley smiled at the word he'd chosen to signal that the plan was still on track. Richmond must have eyes on the enemy below, and when Bradley flew a loop, he was surprised to see the moon reflecting off of an enemy fighter a lot closer to him than anticipated. He throttled back up to 600 knots after saying the command word; and now it was time for the rodeo to begin.

He felt calm in spite of his adrenaline, and Bluebird was the only voice he heard now as he headed for the darkness of the open water with his team. "Bell Bottoms," Bluebird said clearly, and that meant the SEAL team was given the go ahead to breach the building where the hostages were housed.

Then Bradley saw the streaks of orange directly behind him, and it was a miracle he hadn't been hit by any of the barrage of bullets being fired at him as he saw nothing but the darkness of open water below. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath. He checked his radar and throttled up fast. "Whiskey gold," he called out, inverting to try to see who had shot at him.

He saw a flash of moonlight on a silver wing and knew that's who it must have been. His fingers flexed on the throttle, and he wanted nothing more than to dive back down and ruin their day. But he couldn't. So he kept to the plan. He could see his teammates in tight formation on his radar, but then he saw more orange streaks in the night. "Shit."

Bradley checked his fuel capacity and nudged the throttle up to 650 knots, letting his teammates know to do the same. They needed to loop back around south toward the USS Nimitz, but they needed to time it just right so the enemy aircrafts were running too low on fuel to go after the Navy SEAL team and the hostages. If the SEALs were even able to get them out.

Bradley was starting to sweat. He hadn't heard an update from Bluebird in nearly three minutes. That was way too long for the hostage recovery to have been successful. Now he was all too aware of his breathing and the sound of his heart in his ears. One of the hostages was a seventeen year old kid. Another one was pregnant.

He felt sick to his stomach as he waited, but he knew he only had another few seconds before he had to draw everyone further south. He counted to ten in his head, ready with the command word on his tongue as he checked his fuel gauge. And then he heard Bluebird say, "Bottoms up."

The SEALS were out with the five hostages in the heavily armed transport van. Bradley commanded his group to move south, and sure enough, one by one, the enemy aircrafts headed back toward land. Whether they were going to attempt to go after the hostages or not, Bradley wasn't concerned. They had to be nearly out of fuel just like his team was. The only benefit he had was the fact that the aircraft carrier was nearby, waiting in the quiet darkness below.

So let them try to go after the SEALs. It didn't matter. They had too much of a head start. As Bradley neared the exact coordinates where the carrier should be, he turned his regular longer distance radio on again and said, "Omega one."

The answer came in the form of the carrier deck being lit up in red lights, signalling that it was safe for them to land one by one. And when a second set of white lights came to life in the tower, Bradley pumped his fist in the air. That meant Bluebird and Wilbur were successfully on their way back with the comanche.

Bradley was the first one to touch down on deck, and he scrambled out of his jet in time to see Havoc's tailhook catch. Then the other two landed. The four of them ended up lining up alongside Warlock and Jackal who remained completely quiet until fifteen minutes later when the comanche touched down followed by the last two unmarked F/A-18s.

When Warlock started walking, Bradley followed him down the spiral of stairs and into the well lit classroom. Bradley realized he was soaked with sweat as he sat down in the back row alone and watched everyone else file in. He counted the beats of his heart, and as Cyclone walked inside, he closed the door but kept his hand on the knob.

"Operation Loophole was highly successful. The five hostages are in a secure location along with SEAL Team 7. Please keep in mind that the sensitive details of this mission are considered top secret. Now, go get some rest. Eat a good meal when you wake up. We'll meet back here at 1200 hours to debrief and discuss plans to get you back home."

Then Cyclone turned the knob, and he was gone. Bradley took his time walking back to his bunk, and he showered before collapsing into his bed. Selfishly, he let his mission overwrite some of the damage Slayer and Dean had done to his ego. The adrenaline hadn't quite worn off, and he doubted it would until he saw you again, but the sense of relief he felt let him drift off into a comfortable sleep.

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

You were at Costco trying to decide how much chicken to buy when you got the phone call. If Bradley was going to come home this weekend, you'd make a double batch of Marry Me Rooster. If he wouldn't be home this weekend, and would subsequently miss spending his birthday with you, then you would only need to make a smaller batch.

When your phone rang in your pocket, you assumed it was your mom and dad finalizing plans to fly to San Diego. If Bradley wasn't back for their visit, then you could cancel their hotel room and have them stay with you. But your phone screen said RESTRICTED CALLER, and you almost dropped the pack of chicken on the floor.

Your heart was pounding in your ears, and the metallic taste of fear filled your mouth. Someone was calling you about Bradley. It had been a few days since you talked to him in the shower, and now someone else was calling you.

"Hello?" Your voice was hoarse and soft, but you didn't even want to clear your throat and cut off the person on the other end of the call. You had to grip the cart handle as a cheerful voice greeted you.

"I'm calling in regards to your husband, Lieutenant Commander Bradley Bradshaw. Could you please confirm your full name and date of birth?"

You rattled off the information for her and went silent again as she took her time with whatever information she had for you. She didn't sound like she had bad news, but you just weren't sure. It hurt to take a deep breath, and your eyes were starting to burn when she finally said, "Okay.... it looks like he'll be flying back into San Diego International on Saturday night. That's June 27th at 10:45 pm."

"Oh my god," you gasped, leaning against the refrigerator case and forcing air in and out of your lungs.

"Can you pick him up?"

"Yes," you replied. "Of course. I'll be there."

"Have a great day!"

Bradley was coming home on his birthday. You started laughing as happy tears filled your eyes. You decided to get the big pack of chicken. Then you walked around the store and thought about the time you'd called him Daddy while you shopped together last year. Your heart twinged at the thought; you knew he actually wanted to be a daddy, and you wanted that for him, too. But you and he had really enjoyed yourselves that day.

You ended up buying way more than you probably needed, including everything to make him a lemon cake to go with his birthday dinner. When you brought him home around midnight on Saturday, the two of you could stay up and eat together if he wasn't too tired. Then on Sunday, you'd keep him in bed all day, alternating between snuggling with him and having birthday sex.

The countdown was on. Just a few days to go. Giddy and excited, you drove home to get the house cleaned up a bit. You gave Tramp a bath and then cleaned the bathroom. You vacuumed everything and got caught up on your laundry so Bradley's dirty clothes could go right into the machines. You had to force yourself to go to sleep around midnight even though you felt like you could run a marathon.

At lunch on Thursday, you finally ran into Bob. You had called him on Sunday, asking if he was still looking for a new place to rent. When he told you he was, you mentioned your old apartment and Maria. "Oh. Thank you. Let me think about it," was all he told you.

Now he was just ahead of you in line in the cafeteria, and you cornered him by the condiments. "Hey, did you give any more thought to moving in with Maria?"

Bob looked up at you as he continued to pump the ketchup, flooding his tray of French fries with it. "Yeah," he said, sounding very unsure about himself. "I thought about it. But I don't think it's a very good idea."

Your brow scrunched in confusion. The apartment was great, and Maria was one of your best friends. "Well, why not? Maria is amazing."

Bob's cheeks were pink as he set the saturated fries down on his lunch tray and avoided your eyes. "Yeah, she's great. I think it would actually be me who was the problem," he muttered.

You shook your head. "But Bob, you're great, too."

He smiled softly at you before he picked up his tray and looked around the room. "I think I would end up making it awkward. You've seen me around attractive women. You know how I am."

"Oh," you said as you looked at him. "But you're not awkward at all, Bob. Maybe you're a little quiet around women, but definitely not awkward."

You saw Maria across the cafeteria, and she waved to you. Bob immediately ducked in the other direction toward Phoenix, and you let him go. When you sat down across from Maria, she immediately asked, "Why didn't you bring Bob with you? I was going to mention my place. And besides, he always smells so good."

"I don't think it's going to work out," you said carefully. "Are you interested in him?"

She scoffed. "No. He's not my type. He's quiet and kind of shy and has those rosy cheeks. Nah. Not my thing."

"I didn't think so." But as you watched her watching him, you really weren't so sure.

On Friday, you stopped out in the tower in the afternoon when you had some free time in your schedule, and as soon as you poked your head into the rec room, everyone was calling your name.

Nat jumped up from the couch when you walked inside. "What are you doing out here?"

You gave Fanboy a high five and accepted a hug from Payback. "Just saying hi. Is Bob around?"

Just then, he walked in with his flight suit sleeves tied around his waist. He was all sweaty, his hair was attractively mussed, and he was drinking from a reusable water bottle while his Adam's apple bobbed.

"Speak of the fucking devil," Nat said collapsing back onto the couch.

Bob was already blushing as you walked over to him and quietly said, "Hey, I'm not trying to pressure you at all. But I can assure you that Maria doesn't think you're awkward in the least bit."

His eyes darted around the room where Fanboy and Payback were in the middle of an argument, and you knew he didn't want them to overhear. "She doesn't?"

"Not at all. She thinks you're kind and courteous and that you smell good."

"She does?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yes. I promise. She's also almost never home, so if you moved in, you'd probably hardly ever see her. She does taekwondo and kickboxing and she volunteers all the time." His eyes lit up, probably at the prospect of having the place to himself most evenings. "And I don't think you're really her type, so any awkwardness at the beginning would probably vanish right away."

He was nodding at you with a very serious expression although now he looked a little sad. "Okay. I'll talk to her."

"Great," you said, giving him a quick hug before you turned to leave.

"Wait," Nat called out as she ate a twinkie and tried to kick Coyote off the couch where he was napping. "Bradley's coming back tomorrow? Hard Deck night?"

You were hoping for something a little more private with him, but you just smiled and said, "His flight doesn't even land until almost 11 o'clock. Next week? Wednesday night maybe?"

She nodded and gave you a thumbs up. When you left the rec room, you walked right past Jake and Cat making out next to the stairs. They turned to look at you but made no move to separate.

"Wait, I think I hear Hondo coming," you said loudly as you started to run away with a grin on your face. Jake just flipped you off, and that was fine with you. The only thing you really cared about was getting home and preparing for Bradley.

After you took Tramp for a long walk, you started on Bradley's lemon cake. You made a second confetti cake as a decoy, just to make him laugh. You could always drop it off for your elderly neighbors on Sunday after you clocked the thinly veiled annoyance on your husband's face. Then you got to work on a massive batch of Marry Me Rooster. He always came home hungry after being away, usually complaining about the food that was served on the carriers.

You paused while you were working and took a minute to just be thankful that Bradley was coming home to you after only two weeks away. You were in a much better headspace after this short time apart, and you were very thankful for that as well. Tomorrow was Bradley's birthday. Your period was over. You were picking up the calendar in the morning, and you were picking Bradley up tomorrow night.

"Get ready, Tramp. Daddy's almost home."

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

Bradley was so antsy on his thirteen hour flight from Seoul to San Diego, he could barely sit still. Even the business class seat did little to help him get comfortable. He felt too aware of every part of his entire body. His arms felt too big. His legs felt too long. His fingers were practically twitching with the anticipation of seeing you and touching you. He should have jerked off on the carrier when he had the chance.

Now he was counting down the hours while he wrote a little bit in his notebook, but even then, the pages read like a dirty movie starring you and him. He had actually written the sentence I like to take my wife hard when I return home from deployments.

"What the fuck," he whispered to himself, trying not to disturb the person who was sleeping next to him as he closed his notebook and tossed it into his backpack. When he tried to stretch his legs out, all he could think about was how it felt to be in his king sized bed with you where there was plenty of room. Plenty of room, sure, but you always ended up on top of him. You were always touching him, running your fingers along his tattoo and up into his hair.

Bradley jolted upright in his seat, practically panting as he took his phone out to check the time. Two more hours. Two more fucking hours. He wouldn't make it. Maybe he should jerk it in the lavatory? But no, he already knew his hand wouldn't satisfy him now. He needed your body. There was something about the successful completion of Operation Loophole that made his adrenaline run hot and stay that way. It was like he could feel his blood pumping through his veins and needed to do something about it.

When Cyclone and Warlock pulled him aside and called him 'a hell of a good pilot', it was like he could hear your voice right next to his ear. Praising him. He went back to his bunk to pack for home, but all he could think about was you with your hands all over him. Just you, whispering something soft and innocent that slowly turned into something filthy.

By the time the commercial jet started its descent into San Diego, Bradley had both fists clenched on the arm rests. He was back to practicing the steady breathing techniques Bob taught him, but his cock was a little hard in his jeans regardless. He was ready to go. When he turned off airplane mode and checked his text messages, yours was right at the top.

Baby Girl Bradshaw: Happy birthday! I can't wait to see you! I'll be in baggage claim, ready to take you home!

Bradley grunted as he slowly deboarded the plane, and once he was free of the crowd of people around the gate, he started walking with longer strides. Home. When he got you back to the craftsman, he was going to fuck you until you couldn't talk. Until you couldn't move. He could practically taste your skin already. He could hear the way you were going to whine for him.

As he approached the baggage claim area, he squeezed the rubber handrail of the escalator like he wanted to kill it. There you were, looking up at the arrivals board with your back to him, wearing one of your little dresses. He could pick you out of a crowd of hundreds. Maybe thousands. He could find your pretty face or the perfect swell of your ass anywhere. He knew the way you shifted from one foot to the other by heart. He knew exactly what it looked like when you anxiously checked your outfit, running your palms down over your hips.

When Bradley released the handrail, there was nothing that could keep him from you. One, two, three, four, five steps in your direction, and he was calling out your name. His voice sounded tense and a little bit stern, and when you spun to face him, your pretty little dress swirled around your thighs. He'd have that thing up around your waist so fast, you wouldn't know what to do with yourself.

"Roo," you gasped as you rushed toward him. But you must have known. You always knew. Your lips were parted, and your eyes were wide. There was no doubt in his mind that you knew what he needed as he reached for your body. "Roo," you moaned softly as his lips met yours while he backed you up against a pillar.

He didn't say a word. He just tasted the inside of your mouth with his tongue as your arms went around his neck. Bradley's hands were on your ass, and through the flimsy material of your dress, he was certain you weren't wearing any underwear. He grunted into your mouth as he used his teeth, and you were already whining softly.

When he brought one hand up to your neck, he was less than gentle. The softness of your body against his had him growing harder and harder, and there was no doubt in his mind that you could feel him against your belly. You raked your fingers through his hair as he released your lips, and you whispered, "Happy birthday."

He brought his lips to your neck and dragged them up to your ear where he grunted, "I need to fuck you."

When you sighed and pressed your body tighter to his, Bradley could feel your nipples through your dress. His brain was screaming at him to unzip his pants and bend you over right here. Take what he needed. Your hand cupping his length as you smirked at him wasn't helping at all, and then you said, "I think that can be arranged, Daddy."

Fuck. As soon as the baggage carousel started up behind him, he snatched his duffle off of the belt, his other hand still firmly on your ass. You already looked a little dazed as you led him out to the quiet parking garage. There was nobody around as Bradley tucked his hand up inside the hem of your dress, finally feeling that supple skin against his rough palm.

"Roo," you gasped, trying your best to walk along with your keys in your hand while he let his middle finger drift down closer to your pussy. But you didn't tell him to stop, and he knew how you were. There was nobody around anyway, of that he was certain, but even if there had been, you probably wouldn't have minded.

"Where did you park, Sweetheart?" he asked, his head on a swivel as he looked around the dark corner of the garage for his Bronco.

"Over there," you gasped, gesturing toward a massive pickup truck. And sure enough, your shittly little car was tucked between it and the wall. Bradley stopped in his tracks with his hand on your ass and pulled you closer so your front was pressed against his.

You were clinging to his tee shirt as he asked, "How the hell am I supposed to fuck you in that thing? Why didn't you bring the Bronco?"

You whimpered and kissed his chin. "I took the Bronco out earlier, and I forgot to get gas for it."

Bradley kissed your lips hard and squeezed your ass before letting go of you in favor of your hand. He would have to work with what he had, because he was at the point of no return now that he was in your presence.

You ran along next to him as he walked to your car, and with shaky fingers, you unlocked the trunk for him. Once he dropped his duffle and backpack inside and slammed it closed, he picked you up in his arms. "I love you," he whispered, voice harsh as you whined his name. "But next time, bring the Bronco."

You nodded as you reached for the door handle, and Bradley eased himself down onto the back seat with you straddling his lap. It was such a tight fit, his head was grazing the ceiling, and his knees were digging into the back of the driver's seat. But your lips were on his, and your fingers were tugging at his hair. He was ready to completely lose control. He needed to.

Your wide eyes met his as you slammed the door closed. Without hesitating, he reached between his body and yours and worked at the fly of his jeans. His cock was throbbing painfully now that you were on top of him, your pussy rubbing against the back of his hand. "Jesus, Baby Girl. You're soaking wet."

"I know," you whined before sucking on his bottom lip. "I need you."

Bradley bunched the fabric of your dress up around your waist so he could watch as he thrust himself up to meet you. The relief he felt was immediate as you took all of him like a champ, sinking down around his cock until he bottomed out. You were gasping and moaning into his mouth, and he had known all along that you were the only thing that could satisfy him like this.

When he rolled his hips up, giving you more pressure, you tipped your head back. "Harder, Bradley."

Your voice begging him for more was music to his ears as he wrapped his arm around your back and grabbed your hip. He thrust up again, but you just moaned louder and begged him for more. "Harder," you whispered, your voice breaking beautifully on that single word.

"Sweetheart, I can only do so much here," he grunted, diggin his left knee into the back of the seat and bracing his right foot against the center console as he pistoned up into you. Your squeals of delight as your tits practically bounced free from your dress brought a smile to his face. How were you always even better than what his imagination and memory could provide?

"Harder, Roo," you gasped, your eyes bright and excited as you braced yourself on his shoulders. "Harder, Daddy."

He'd give you anything you wanted right now. Your pussy was tight and perfect and just for him. You were the only thing that could relieve this constant adrenaline rush. And he wanted to be just as good for you, too.

Lips locked with yours, inhaling every sound you made for him, Bradley braced his foot and fucked you has hard as he could. Sweat broke out on his forehead. The back windows started to steam up. You sounded like you were going to cry. But he didn't stop. He just went harder as you begged him for more and more.

"Oh! My god!" you cried out, your hands pulling his hair as you ran your lips along his sweaty face, not quite kissing him and not quite licking him as you came. He was close now, his balls rejoicing in the impending release he could feel building up in his spine.

"Fuck yes, fuck yes," he chanted softly as your voice rang out in the backseat of your piece of shit car. He thrust one more time, and he filled you with his cum as he heard a loud cracking noise.

It took him a few seconds to realize that the center console was no longer pushing back against his right foot, but he was too caught up in you to care much. Your soft giggles were right next to his ear, and the fabric of your dress had fallen back down over his hands which were now softly resting on your hips.

"I love you." Your breath was soft on his neck as you spoke, and the words were laced with a smile. "And I missed you."

Bradley caressed your soft skin in the dim backseat of your car, but he didn't dare move an inch. You felt too fucking good right now. He just held you and closed his eyes, and he could have fallen asleep still inside you when you started to shift. His eyes fluttered open to look at your pretty face as you sat up straighter on his cock and smiled.

"My wife is the prettiest thing I've ever seen," he whispered, and you stroked your fingers along his scarred cheek.

"Let's go home. You can have your birthday presents, and I'll run around and cater to you all day tomorrow."

He couldn't help but laugh as you kissed his forehead. When you eased yourself off of him, his cum dripped out of you and onto his jeans which just made him smile more. He was finally completely sated, and nothing was going to mess with that.

"What the fuck?" you gasped, turned around to face the front seat and nearly kneeing him in the balls in the process. "Bradley! What did you do?!"

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

Mission accomplished, and now Roo is home! All of that adrenaline...oof. And what the fuck did he just do to her car? Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 23

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@chassy21

@solacestyles

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@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

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@local-spidey

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@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

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itberice · 8 months

Text

In a pleasant surprise, the Cerritos has been tasked with transporting the USS Voyager. Captain Janeway and her crew spent seven years trying to get home from the Delta Quadrant, and they became Federation history in the process.

Star Trek: Lower Decks I "Twovix"

#Star Trek: Lower Decks #Star Trek: Voyager #Star Trek #trekedit #VOY #Voyager #tvedit #Kathryn Janeway #Seven of Nine #Commander Tuvok #Harry Kim #Tom Paris #my edits

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lunastrophe · 2 months

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Drow Lore 🕷️ More Drow Phrases and Sayings

More phrases in drow language, this time from Drow of the Underdark (2e) - some common curses, battle cries and sayings useful mainly for Lolth-sworn drow:

🕷️ Ssussun pholor dos! - Light upon you! (curse, spoken to another drow)

🕷️ Ssussun! - Light! (curse, a shortened version of Ssussun pholor dos)

🕷️ Oloth plynn dos! - Darkness take you! (curse, spoken to a non-drow / surfacer)

🕷️ [House name] ulu usstan! - [House name] to me! (to rally comrades in battle)

🕷️ [House name] ultrin! - [House name] supreme! (battle cry)

Common sayings:

🕷️ Jal khaless zhah waela - All trust is foolish

🕷️ Oloth zhah tuth abbil lueth ogglin - Darkness is both friend and enemy

🕷️ Xun izil dos phuul quarthen, lueth dro - Do as you are ordered, and live

🕷️ Lolth tlu malla; jal ultrinnan zhah xundus - Lolth be praised; all victory is her doing

🕷️ Ilharessen zhaunil alurl - [Matron] Mothers know best

🕷️ Lil alurl velve zhah lil velkyn uss - The best knife is the unseen one

🕷️ Lil waela lueth waela ragar brorna - lueth wund nind, kyorlin elghinn - The foolish and unwary find surprises - and among them, waiting death (waela can mean either "foolish" or "unwary", so maybe the meaning depends on pronunciation?)

🕷️ Khaless nau uss mzild taga dosstan - Trust no one more than yourself

🕷️ Nindyn vel'uss kyorl nind ratha thalra elghinn dal lil alust - Those who watch their backs meet death from the front

🕷️ Ulu z'hin maglust dal Qu'ellar lueth Valsharess zhah ulu z'hin wund lil phalar - To walk apart from House and Queen [Lolth] is to walk into the grave

🕷️ Kyorl jal bauth, kyone, lueth lil Quarvalsharess xal belbau dos lil belbol del elendar dro - Watch all about, warily, and the Goddess [Lolth] may give you the gift of continued life

🕷️ Vel'uss zhaun alur taga lil Quarvalsharess? - Who knows better than the Goddess [Lolth]?

Many of these sayings sound more like warnings against making deadly mistakes (from the point of view of an average Lolth-sworn drow): rejecting Lolth, rejecting the House, disobeying someone of higher station, lacking caution, lacking common sense and trusting someone.

For more of my drow lore ramblings, feel free to check my pinned post 🕷️

#drow #dnd drow #dnd lore #drow lore #lolth sworn drow #drow culture #drow language #dark elves

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myrskytuuli · 4 months

Text

I've seen few dreamling Star Trek AUs, but I keep thinking about canon dreamling in the Starfleet era future.

The moment humanity makes first contact, Hob Gadling obvioulsy makes it his next goal to get up there and start exploring as soon as possible. New Frontiers! New species! New experiences!

Which great. He's good enough at being just the most normal (surprisingly lucky and durable) red shirt, just there, doing his job. Nothing weird to see here, no sir. Too bad that he managed to get a job at the Enterprise, the galaxy's most ridiculous incident prone ship. And as the Enterprise incidents(TM) keep happening, so does the niggling feeling that there's something fucking funky going on with Ensign Gadling. he has....a very surprising range of skills and knowledge. And that boyfriend of his...is always there when they have shore-leave, no matter how implausible it would be for him to travel the distances with the speed he does with Federation spacecraft. Nobody can sus out what his job is, but it has to be some very high level federation one for his and Gadling's shore-leave's always to align.

But the most disturbing thing about the boyfriend(TM) is how the first glimpse any of the crew gets of him is always always just a bit fucked up.

For a second, before he blinks and realises that that is just Gadling and his partner sitting down on a spaceport café, Spock could have sworn that sitting across the man was Run S'haile made flesh, appearance just like the statues now gathering dust in Vulcan ancient history museums. And the andorian officer could have sworn that for a blink there she saw the Sparkling King of All Fantasies walking hand in hand with Ensign Gadling, before the image settled to two humans walking side by side. And one calm night a tellarite engineer spots ensign Gadling snuggling and star-gazing by one of the ship windows with The Great Nightmare Beast of Sleeping Terrors and decides to get the fuck back to her own quarters and try to never think of it again.

And it really doesn't help that while your average sentients aren't anymore impressed by Gadling than the agressively boring and normal man warrants, it has been more than once that the Cosmic Entity With Unimaginable Powers of the week has gotten suspiciously polite when Gadling enters the scene.

In a normal Starfleet ship Gadling might be able to fly under radar, but USS Enterprise is not a normal ship and the crew is starting to get the heebie jeebies...

#dreamling #star trek #crossover

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buggyjuggie · 4 months

Note

The lin kuei trio + johnny,raiden and kung lao with a figure skating reader?⛸️

──★ ˙ ̟The Lin kuei trio + Johnny, Raiden and Kung lao x GN! Figure skating reader

「 ✦ Bi-han ✦ 」

* Ok i known it might seem obvious that ice powers = good at figure skating but i dont think Bi han is good at it…like at all

* I don’t know this idea is kinda funny to me he tries ,then fails, gets mad and says he’ll never do it again ( if you plead with him enough he’ll try and the cycle repeats)

* Just like with the skater headcanon he has to watch from the sidelines

* Tho as an act of service (hc: his love language) he cleans your skates, makes sure they are up to code and sharpens them.

* Like with Thomas back in they’re childhood he helps you practice by changing the ground into ice.

「 ✦ Kuai liang ✦ 」

* I would say Kua liang is decent at figure skating. Not disastrous like Bi han but also not 10/10 like Thomas

* He enjoys just skating in circles slowly while talking to you

* Just make sure to help him if he ever falls down so that he doesn’t melt the ice out of embarrassment

* He tries to attend every competition that your in but if he’s busy he leaves some flowers and a note for you

* Is the most supportive partner ever gives hugs, kisses, praises and so on after shows.

「 ✦ Smoke/Thomas ✦ 」

*As stated in Kuai liangs sections he’s a GOD at figure skating, it’s practically his secret talent

* Both of you tend to get competitive and try to out do each other

*He sometimes overdoes the spins in an effort to win against you and makes himself dizzy

* During his childhood would pleade with Bihan to turn the ground to ice so he could practice (Bi han caved but then messed with Thomas and made him fall)

* Like Kuai liang he tries to show up to every competition that your in. Even makes those supportive homemade posters

* He tends to embarrass you sometimes but it’s out of love so you can’t get mad at him.

「 ✦ Johnny Cage ✦ 」

* If you compete in any skating competitions your trophies go next to his

* He even sometimes cleans them for you

* Is always posting pictures or videos of either you performing or practicing to his socials

* You now have stan accounts dedicated to you and your carrier thanks to him

* If he ever has to play a roll that includes figure skating your phone better NOT be on silent because your the first person he’s calling up

* Takes you ice skates and costume shopping and yes he does get you custom everything as a surprise

「 ✦ Raiden ✦ 」

* I feel like Raiden is less than average when it comes to figure skatting

* He doesn’t fall on his ass all the time but he still has to use a skating aid or hold on to you

* Like Kuai liang likes just slow skatting around the ring and talking or in silence while taking in your presence

* After competitions takes you to Madam Bo’s even if you didn’t win he still wants to show that you should still be proud of yourself

* Once your done with practice if he sees that your cold he gives you his jacket and always carries a thermos with hot tea to keep you warm.

(Oh my god this gif)

「 ✦ Kung lao ✦ 」

* Tries to act like he isn’t but he’s scared

* After a bit of practice slowly starts to get the hang of things

* Once he’s good enough to be on his own first thing he learns is how to do a hockey stop just to annoy you

* Always brags to people about how cool you are and the amount of awards you’ve won

* Tried to write a message for you on ice ussing his hat but forgot that the skattes also leave marks so it just ended up being unreadable (you still appreciate the thought at least)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

And another request done ! I had so much fun with this one like my brain was filled with ideas i managed to finish this in only a day and again i really enjoys doing this one :3

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weird-an · 4 months

Text

"Captain Harrington!" someone yells.

Steve has to hide his grin. He still can't believe it. He did it. He's the Captain of one of the biggest starships in the galaxy. The USS Hawkins has been a dream for long and now she's under his command.

"Henderson," he nods. His science officer. An annoying little know-it-all Steve has known since the academy, has survived the horrors of the tunnels with on the first mission he was leading all those years ago. Steve is so happy they're on the Hawkins together.

"Have you heard?" Dustin's voice nearly cracks. "They're about to announce First Officer today and you'll never guess who is here today!"

That's what they are all here for, to meet the last crew member, one of the most important positions on a ship and then get debriefed for the first mission. But Dustin's eyes are wide and he's forgetting to breathe between words.

"Steve, it's-"

"Captain Harrington," a voice drawls. Steve knows this voice too well, it was the first thing he heard when he woke up hungover after the orientation week of Starfleet Academy.

Shit.

Billy Hargrove grins at him, teeth all wide and shiny. He's still got his mullet, against all of Starfleet's regulations and wears a black leather jacket above his uniform.

"Hargrove," Steve says, putting his hands in his hips. "What a... surprise."

"A pleasure," Billy corrects, licking across his teeth. "Lookin' forward to bein' your Number One."

"I can't believe it," Dustin murmurs behind Steve.

"Can't wait." Steve rolls his eyes. "You know, it's the first officer's job to obey and implement the Captain's orders."

"Oh, I can obey," Billy says, staring at Steve. "If I want to."

Steve's neck turns warm. Billy winks at him.

Dustin makes a belching sound.

"This will be a suicide mission," he moans.

"Oh, Henderson," Billy purrs. "Our Captain will keep us safe."

Steve gets the sinking feeling that no one will keep him safe from Billy and that unfortunately, he looks way too hot in that uniform.

#billy will cause mayhem on the bridge telling steve about his amazing thrusters #i'm a star trek lover #sorry that you have to find out like this #and omg imagine billy having his own ship called the camaro #but it's more a little jet than anything he uses for racing and stuff #happy new year i'm writing whatever i want #harringrove #steve x billy #billy x steve #billy hargrove #harringrove ficlet #star trek au

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desert-fern · 1 year

Text

A Gun Amongst Daggers - Jake “Hangman” Seresin X Fem!Navy Seal Reader

Part 3: Intel

Summary: When Jake meets a woman at the Hard Deck, the last thing he expects is for her to be a Navy Seal. And not just any Seal, the Commander of Seal Team 3. She’s beautiful, smart, dangerous, and everything about her just makes him want to get close. Her name? Bear. When the Seals need backup, Cyclone puts the Daggers on their radar and now, Jake has to work with Bear and her team, all the while trying to stay professional. Can he do it? Or will he end up falling for the Navy sniper and mission Commander?

*GIF is from Pinterest, not mine*

A/N: Love you all so much, thank you for reading! Part 3 is set immediately after the cut in part 2, so feel free to go back and read part 2 if you forgot what went down!

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE! 18+ ONLY. MINORS & BLOGS WITH NO AGE/EMPTY BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death (If missed anything, let me know!)

Word Count: 2.0k

Read on Wattpad or AO3

Masterlist >> Part 2 >> Part 4

===

“I saw that Sir. New intel on al-Hameed’s location?”

“Yep,” he replied. “Satellite imaging confirmed his arrival outside Ash Shamli. Khrushov and Osmund are him.”

Bear blinked in surprise. “Khrushov? Like Mikael Khrushov? The arms dealer?”

Harris nodded. “The very same. Air Force radar in Riyadh noted al-Hameed’s presence two days ago in Saudi.” He paused, grabbing a file off of his desk and began to flip through it. “It’s estimated that the pair and their entourages will be in Saudi Arabia for the foreseeable future as Khrushov is now wanted in Belarus as well as Central and Eastern Europe on several charges of arms dealing, terrorism plots, and more. Osmund, on the other hand, is wanted in over 20 countries for theft of government secrets and is behind several data leaks from major foreign governments.”

“So what does this mean for us?” Bear asked. Scenarios were running through her mind, possible alterations to their plans, supplies, and personnel were now at the forefront. “Will this be a collaboration with the Air Force? Because you know my history with them, Sir.”

“As of now, Commander, we have very little information on what this means. All I can advise you and your team to do is prepare for a joint operation. Extra weapons drills, covert training, the works,” Shark told her, his face grim. “I am assigning your team a detonation expert in the likelihood of you needing them.”

Bear just nodded, her face schooled into the most neutral look she could muster. “One more question. You mentioned a joint operation, who is joining us?”

Rear Admiral Harris nodded. “That is true. The USS Abraham Lincoln is heading out in a few weeks. I believe that Busan is their destination. Our inland target of, well…I trust you to fill everyone in at the meeting tomorrow.” He paused, fingers tapping on the desk in front of him. “Long story short, we have incoming air support to help us with a few fly overs. They have their own mission, but Admiral Simpson has okayed a squadron as backup for a brief interval while we do extra recon and then again as air support.”

She blinked. “Sir, pardon the question. But are we sure that’s wise? Riyadh is a US Air Force base. Navy pilots and the Air Force don’t get along. I’d rather not be caught up in the middle of a military pissing contest.” Bear made eye contact with Rear Admiral Harris and saw that arguing was futile. “I will make plans to speak with the officer in charge asap, Sir. After the meeting tomorrow.”

“See to it that you do, Commander. You have always yielded results, I see no reason for you to disappoint me. You are dismissed.” Harris waved her off as he returned to his paperwork, leaving Bear to retreat from the office.

As she walked off, it felt like her thoughts had been out through a blender. They were scrambled and whirling out of control, but for right now, there was nothing to be done. So she put them aside for the moment and hurried to her car, tossing her stuff inside and heading off to the bar where she would meet Phoenix. God she needed a distraction.

===

For some inane reason, they had gone to the Hard Deck and it appeared that nearly every other Navy member on base had the same idea. “Remind me why we decided to come here?” Bear yelled over the din. She elbowed past a few women, ignoring the indignant yelps and cries of them as she shouldered her way through.

“That was my bad! Sorry!” Phoenix yelled back. “But hey, we can just leave!”

“Grab a drink first? Then outside?”

A thumbs up from Phoenix, and she watched the pilot redirect herself out the door and onto the beach. Bear grimaced at the amount of people around her, the volume of everyone who’d packed themselves into the bar made it hard for her to keep track of everything going on. Sniper’s instinct, her Lieutenant had called it. She was hyper aware of everything around her and it was almost too much.

“You must be Bear!” Penny yelled over the noise, wiping a ring off the bar top. “What can I get you?”

The Seal snorted. Word traveled fast when pilots were involved. “Yep. Can I grab a beer and a lemonade from you?”

“For sure. Your tab?”

Bear gave her a thumbs up, and the older woman passed the drinks over a few minutes later. “There you go.”

“Thanks Penny.” She gave a quick wave before slipping back through the crowd, effectively disappearing. Once outside, Bear took a deep breath, relishing in the fresh air and the lack of noise.

She found Phoenix sitting in the sand a little ways away staring out at the water. “Here.”

“Oh, thanks,” came the reply as the pilot took the offered bottle. “What did you get?”

“Lemonade.”

“I swear sometimes that you and Bob are the same person,” Phoenix said, shaking her head in laughter. “You don’t drink?”

“I try not to,” Bear chuckled, shrugging as she did. “I hate the way alcohol tastes and I really hate the fact that it makes me less aware of what’s going on. But that’s just me.”

Phoenix hummed. “Fair enough.” She took a sip of her drink before setting it down in the sand. “What’s the deal with you and Bagman? Both of you were acting a little weird this afternoon.”

“It’s nothing. Pretty sure he’s just trying to piss me off,” the Seal replied, rolling her eyes. “And I’m not about to let him win.”

“Maybe. But it’s definitely more than that,” the pilot pressed. “I think that he’s into you.”

Bear choked on her lemonade. After a coughing fit, she managed to wheeze out “What?”

“Hangman, Jake, whoever, thinks that you, Bear, the Navy Seal, are hot as fuck and he seems to have a thing for women who have ‘resting murder face’.” Phoenix pointed at the other woman, before continuing. “And you have the best RMF I have ever seen.”

Bear just stared at her friend. “What the fuck Nix?” Disbelief was written all over her face and Bear found herself stunned at how her heart skipped a beat at the mere thought of having the cocky blonde pilot’s attention.

“I’m not wrong. And from your very dramatic reaction, I’d be willing to bet that you think he’s hot too.”

“Umm…you’re very wrong,” Bear spluttered. “But because you’re my friend, I won’t tell you how wrong you are.”

“I’m honored…” Phoenix deadpanned, taking another sip of her drink. “What happened when you left earlier?”

“CO wanted to see me. New intel for our next deployment, other than that, I can’t really say much.”

“Classified?”

“Highly.”

Phoenix nodded, looking back out at the ocean before them. “When do you head out?”

“A few weeks,” Bear replied, sipping her drink. “Heard through the grapevine that you Daggers are about to ship out too. Any idea where?”

“Nope. It’s a mission assist though, could be fun depending on who we get sent out with,” Phoenix commented. “We will meet with them tomorrow. Get a sense of the mission and see how much lifting we have to do.”

Bear opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by a shout. Turning, she saw the rest of the Dagger pilots hurrying across the sand to them. “Oh great,” she pretended to grumble. She had rolled her eyes, but the gesture was fond. “When did you flyboys get here?”

“A few minutes ago,” Fanboy yelled back, beaming at her. “Why? You miss us?”

She pretended to think, humming. “Nah, I do enough babysitting as it is.”

Rooster let out a loud mock gasp, pretending to stumble backwards. “How DARE you?” He screeched breathily.

Bear made eye contact with Phoenix and the pair burst into giggles. “Oh I dare very easily,” she teased, standing up and bumping his arm with hers. “Whatcha doing out here? Thought you’d be the life of the party, Bradshaw.”

“What am I? Chopped liver?” Jake said jokingly as he sidled up to her. She said nothing, choosing to smirk instead. Green eyes met brown and Jake saw the amusement and mischief twinkling in them. “Never mind. Don’t answer that.”

“Smart man.” Bear had turned to look up at him, giving him a teasing smile in response to his words. A cough from Phoenix had Bear narrowing her eyes and giving the pilot a hard look. “No.”

Sensing the sudden burst of tension, Payback spoke up. “So Bear. Are we ever going to get the story behind that?”

“You really want to know?”

“Yes!” A shout rose up from the group of pilots standing around her.

“Fine. Fine,” Bear said, giving in. “I’m called Bear, because I’m a grumpy fuck in the morning.”

A man near the back of the group who she knew to be Harvard spoke up “That’s it? Not some deep dark secret behind it?”

“Why? You don’t believe me?” Bear asked, eyebrow raised.

“We have no proof that that’s even true!” Harvard argued.

“Send Jake in, he’ll get to the bottom of it,” Rooster joked, but his laughter stopped abruptly when he caught sight of the sharp look on Bear’s face.

“More like he’d bottom her,” Coyote whispered to Phoenix, who had to turn away to hide her laughter.

“Hey!” Jake yelled, his face going red. “No. Just no.”

Bear just sent him a wink, laughing to herself as he spluttered indignantly. “Nix told me that you ship out soon. Any idea when? Because I’m out in the next few weeks.”

“Unfortunately due to the classified nature of US Naval deployments, we are unable to provide that information,” Fanboy recited in a serious voice. The tone of his voice made the group crack up, himself included, with Bear rolling her eyes in fondness.

“Okay. Okay. Guess I should have expected that,” she said with a laugh, putting her hands up in mock surrender.

“Just messing with you,” Fanboy replied, still chuckling a little. “Sometime in the next few weeks too. We have a meeting tomorrow about it. Giving us details and shit.”

“Oh fun,” Bear said, eyes shifting around the group. Coyote and Payback had started throwing rocks into the ocean, yelling about how far they could throw, their loud voices seeming to echo around them. Harvard, Halo, and a few of the others had broken off into their own group and seemed to be chatting about nothing in particular. It made her smile at the easy camaraderie between them. She knew how difficult the Navy could be and she was just glad that they had their people around them.

===

Hours later, after night had fallen and the air grew cold, Bear finally stood up and stretched. “I’m heading out guys,” she said, to the protests of a few of the pilots around her. “My meeting is early tomorrow morning and I actually have to pay attention to this one because I’m leading it.”

“Aww c’mon!” The group protested, Rooster among the loudest. He admired Bear for her strength and the take-no-shit attitude she had. Plus he found it funny when she teased Hangman to no end.

“I know, I’m sorry.” She grinned widely. “I might see you all tomorrow. But if not, I’ll see you around.” With a wave, Bear began to walk towards her car.

A shuffle behind her had her shaking her head as she continued walking. “Can I help you, Hangman?”

Jake paused, stunned at the speed at which she’d guessed it was him. “How’d you-”

“I just do,” she said with a wide grin, cutting him off. Spinning to face him with a smirk, Bear spoke again “So, can I help you?”

“That depends.”

“Depends on what?” Bear raised an eyebrow in question, looking at him curiously.

It was Jake’s turn to smirk, green eyes seeming to glitter in the night as he peered at her. “On whether or not you plan on taking my offer, Teddy.”

Her confusion deepened. “What offer?”

“You know what? Never mind. I like my dick where it is and I would like to keep it there.”

“Oh, you mean that little line in the hallway earlier,” she said, smirking. “I highly doubt you can maintain the speed I need. You seem too much like a ‘one and done’ kind of guy.”

“My mama would have me by the throat if she ever got the impression that I treated women with so little respect,” Jake replied, a blush rising to his cheeks. “Especially if I left them as unsatisfied as you must be by some of the losers on base.”

Her eyes narrowed, but this time it wasn’t teasing. Bear looked angry; her face pinched and if looks could kill, Jake would be reduced to a grease spot on the sand. “Your mama would be so disappointed in your behavior right now, Lieutenant,” she snarled, her eyes nearly slits and venom coated every syllable. “And, for the record, my “satisfaction”, as you put it, is none of your fucking business.”

“Woah. Okay, chill,” Hangman raised his hand, almost placating the woman before him. “I didn’t mean it like that. Just that you wouldn’t be wound so tight if you took me up on my offer.”

“Well, I guess I won’t be so lucky as to fall under you,” Bear shot back. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I should get going.” She turned and walked off, leaving a stunned Jake in her wake.

===

A/N: Kisses and hugs to my favourite editors/fangirls: @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s and @dakotakazansky you guys have saved my butt more times than I can count!

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