#christmas with the bradshaws

[bradshawsbaby]

Underneath the Tree

Pairing: Rooster x Wife!Reader

Author’s Note: This initially started out as a little blurb concept, but I was inspired to turn it into a fuller length story after receiving some absolutely delightful input from my darling friend, @luminousnotmatter​. Clara, your imagination and creativity are a wonder, and I’m so thankful for you! I know we’ve discussed this a lot, so I hope you enjoy it!

Fun Fact: In the timeline of this story, Mrs. Bradshaw is very newly pregnant with Goose, but doesn’t know it yet!

Warnings: This story contains lots of romance and fluff, but it’s also 18+ for some explicit sexual content.

“Honey?”

The sound of your husband’s voice reverberated throughout the apartment as you heard him drop his bag by the front door, followed by the soft thud of his boots as he placed them on the shoe rack.

“In the living room!” you called out to him, not wanting to move from the cozy spot in which you’d plopped yourself.

Though you couldn’t see him, though he wasn’t even in the same room as you, you could sense Bradley’s confusion, could picture the small wrinkle between his eyebrows, as you heard him begin walking in the direction of your darkened living room. The house was dark, save for the few candles you’d lit and the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree, and quiet, save for the classic Christmas songs that were warbling from the record player that had once belonged to Goose and Carole.

“Baby?” Bradley asked, flicking the lights on to seek you out.

“No, no, keep them off!” you exclaimed from your spot underneath the Christmas tree. Glancing across the room, you immediately noted the look of perplexed amusement on your husband’s face.

“What are you doing, honey?” Bradley questioned, arching an eyebrow as he stepped further into the room, taking in the sight of you lying on your back, your head resting on the tree skirt as you gazed upward at the inner boughs of your Christmas tree.

“Just admiring our tree,” you informed him, resting your hands on your stomach and crossing your ankles comfortably, as if this was the most normal position in the world for him to find you in.

Bradley chuckled, crossing his arms as he continued to gaze down at you. “And you couldn’t do that from the couch?”

You and Bradley had decorated your apartment for Christmas the day after Thanksgiving, and in the week that had since followed, you’d spent every night curled up on the couch together, mugs of hot chocolate in hand as you snuggled into your husband’s side and enjoyed the warm glow of the lights that filled your heart with joy every time you saw them.

“I thought it was time for a new perspective,” you grinned, lifting your head slightly to look at him from your spot on the floor. Laughing, you added, “I used to do this all the time when I was a little girl. I’d spend hours lying underneath the Christmas tree, staring up at the lights and all our ornaments and imagining all the toys that Santa was going to bring me on Christmas morning. I haven’t done it in years.”

Shaking his head in amusement, Bradley smiled at you with tender affection. “You never fail to amaze me with how you can find joy in the smallest things, baby,” he said, beaming first at you and then at the tree that the two of you had spent hours painstakingly decorating until you had deemed it “just right.”

“Come lay with me,” you invited him, patting the spot beside you on the floor. As he started to move towards you, however, you quickly added, “But shut the lights off first! It’ll ruin the magic otherwise,” you giggled.

“Can’t have that now, can we?” Bradley grinned, flipping the light switch off, which cast the living room into darkness once more. It was a comforting darkness though, one pierced by the soft and cozy glow of your multi-colored Christmas lights and the cinnamon-scented candles you had left sitting on the coffee table.

Letting out a soft groan as he folded his tired body down to the floor, Bradley laid on his back and carefully shimmied himself underneath the tree, until he was resting shoulder to shoulder with you.

“Get comfy,” you instructed, grinning as he made a show of settling himself in, linking his fingers together and resting them on his stomach, and crossing his ankles in a manner that mirrored yours.

“Comfy,” he assured you, turning his head and shooting you a playful wink.

“Good,” you nodded, trying to bite back your smile as you turned your gaze upward once more. “Now look up and enjoy.”

As Frank Sinatra crooned White Christmas in the background, Bradley tore his gaze away from your enchanted face and followed your line of sight, staring up at the inner workings of your Christmas tree.

Lying in this position, you had always imagined yourself wandering around in some sort of enchanted forest, the lights twinkling and winking at you like little Christmas fairies, determined to whisk you off to some magical destination. Though you weren’t a little girl anymore, the effect remained the same. There was still something so magical about it, made even better by the man who was now lying beside you. He was better than any Christmas gift you ever could have asked Santa for.

“What do you think?” you asked softly, keeping your voice hushed in the stillness of the moment.

“Beautiful,” Bradley murmured in response. “Absolutely beautiful.”

When you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, however, you realized that his gaze was fixed permanently on you and not on your magical Christmas tree.

“I’m talking about the tree,” you laughed, nudging him pointedly.

“Oh, the tree? It’s alright,” he shrugged, his eyes crinkling with laughter as you swatted his arm teasingly. “No, it’s beautiful, honey. Really. Just not as beautiful as you.”

“Such a smooth talker, always,” you teased, reaching down and lacing your fingers through his as you continued to stare up in wonder.

You and Bradley lay like that for a while, Sinatra giving way to Crosby and then to Fitzgerald as the Christmas record continued to play. After a while, however, you could sense your husband becoming increasingly restless, his gaze constantly shifting to your face, though you attempted to keep your focus directed upward.

“Honey,” he whispered, his voice gentle, but edged with a rasp that told you exactly what was on his mind.

Shifting onto his side, Bradley rested his hand on your hip as he leaned in and began peppering your jawline and neck with kisses.

“Lieutenant Bradshaw, just what do you think you’re doing?” you smirked, shivering despite yourself as his warm lips began trailing a line down your throat, his mustache scraping against your sensitive skin.

“Just showing my wife how much I love her,” he whispered against your neck, nipping at your jaw in a way that had your toes curling immediately in pleasure.

“Oh, is that it?” you whispered in a breathy voice, running your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck as his tongue began tracing slow, lazy circles across your throat. His fingers slipped inside the neckline of your shirt, tugging it to the side so that his ministrations could move to your shoulder.

“Mhm,” Bradley nodded, his lips hovering over yours for the briefest of moments before he captured your mouth with his own, his tongue gently probing and exploring as his hands slid down your body.

When an involuntary moan escaped your lips, you felt your husband’s body respond almost immediately, his grip on you tightening as he attempted to shift his body over yours.

Evidently forgetting where he was, however, Bradley let out a strangled groan of frustration when his head suddenly whacked into the bottom branches of the tree, several ornaments whose perches had been disturbed tinkling disgruntledly in response.

“Son of a—”

“Bradley Bradshaw,” you said in a mock serious tone, resting a firm hand on your husband’s chest as you pushed him away from you. “If you break any of those ornaments, you are going to be in serious trouble!”

“Is that so?” Bradley asked, a mischievous gleam in his eye as he gazed down at you. “Well I guess I’ll just have to work my way out from under this tree,” he winked, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before lowering himself down once more and latching his lips onto your neck.

You let out a soft sigh of pleasure as your husband licked and nipped at your skin, soothing each bite with a tender kiss as his hands wandered down lower, massaging your thighs. Gripping your legs in his hands, he began shimmying down your body, kissing your breasts and stomach through the material of your T-shirt and bra.

“Bradley,” you moaned softly, your desire increasing with every second that passed. You could feel your panties growing damp as he began peppering your hips with kisses, pushing your shirt up just slightly so that his lips were making contact with bare flesh once more.

“I’ve got you, honey,” Bradley told you, his fingers working to gently push your shirt up even further, exposing your bare stomach. “I’m gonna take such good care of you,” he promised, lowering his head and pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your skin.

You could feel your body growing warm as he continued his trail downward, your hand coming down to rest on the back of his head and your fingers carding through his hair. When he suddenly put his mouth on your clothed core, you let out an involuntary gasp, your body curling in on itself as your head came up sharply, hitting the same branches that he had knocked into earlier.

“Mrs, Bradshaw,” Bradley tutted teasingly, lifting his head to look up at you. “If you break any of those ornaments, you are going to be in serious trouble!”

You let out a little groan, giggling despite yourself. “Stop torturing me then!” you insisted, biting down on your lower lip in a gesture that always drove Bradley insane.

Sure enough, you instantly felt your husband’s fingers reaching inside the waistband of your leggings, hooking through your underwear as well as he pulled both down your legs with practiced ease. Your hips bucked slightly when you felt the cool air hitting your wet center.

“Oh, honey,” Bradley moaned softly, running one calloused finger over you in a way that had you grinding yourself down against his hand. “I’ve got you,” he assured you once again, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh.

You let out a soft cry as he finally put his mouth on you, his tongue tracing slow stripes up and down your slit as his fingers swirled small circles on your hips and lower belly. He took his time, setting a languid pace that had you panting and mewling in desperation, your fingers burying themselves in his hair as you pressed yourself against him.

Bradley ran a soothing hand up and down your thigh as his lips wrapped around the tiny bundle of nerves at your core, sending a shockwave through your system and causing you to practically sob out his name. “Does it feel good, honey? Is it too much?” he asked, feeling how much your legs were trembling.

“N-no. I mean, yes! I mean, it feels so good!” you gasped, your hips rolling slightly as he peppered you with soft kisses. “Don’t stop, baby, please! I’m so close!”

“Okay, honey, okay,” Bradley nodded, gently slipping two fingers inside you and curling them slowly as your hips popped up off the floor. “Let go when you’re ready, baby. I’m right here,” he murmured, kissing your knee before lowering his mouth to you once more, his lips attaching to that tiny bud as his fingers worked you closer and closer to the edge.

“Bra–Brad–Bradley!” you practically screamed, your vision going white for a second as an intense orgasm suddenly rocked your body, tears streaming out your eyes and into your hair as your hips bucked over and over again until your body lay limp against the floor, trembling.

“Right here, honey. I’m right here,” Bradley whispered to you comfortingly, keeping a firm grip on your thighs as you came down from your high, your heart racing and your chest heaving.

“Baby,” you sighed, reaching down to caress his cheek as he rested his head against your stomach, holding you close. “That was….”

“Everything you deserve and then some,” your husband said, pressing soft kisses to your stomach. “I love making you feel that good, baby.”

The two of you just lay like that for a while, Bradley resting his head on your stomach as you ran your fingers through his hair and fought like hell to catch your breath.  When you finally felt like your body had stopped shaking like a leaf, you slowly shimmied your way out from underneath the tree, sitting up on the floor.

Bradley sat across from you and watched with wide eyes as you removed your shirt and bra, tossing them to the side and fixing your gaze on him.

“Take your clothes off,” you told him softly, biting down on your lower lip once again.

He didn’t need you to say it twice. Without taking his eyes off you, Bradley quickly stripped himself of the black T-shirt he’d worn home from base, followed instantly by his sweatpants and boxers. Wordlessly, he wrapped an arm around your waist and lowered you down to the carpeted floor in front of the Christmas tree, cupping your face in his other hand and running his thumb along your bottom lip.

“I love you so much,” he told you seriously, his brown eyes boring down on you. “Do you know that?”

You nodded in response, lifting your hands to hold his face between them. “I know. I love you, too. With everything I am.”

There were times when you and Bradley made love frantically, all frenzied movements and loud panting and screaming out each other’s names. And then there were times like tonight, when you held each other so close and your bodies moved in tandem at an achingly slow speed, all soft sighs and tender whispers and a deep love that made your heart throb inside your chest.

Your husband was inside you, his face buried in your neck as he ground his hips down in rhythm with yours, your arms and legs wrapped tightly around him as you squeezed your eyes shut and let your mouth fall open into a tiny ‘O’ of pleasure, your pulse racing as you heard Bradley’s soft gasps and murmured “I love yous.”

Over the sound of your heavy breathing and the thud of your hearts pounding in concert with one another, you could hear the soft strains of Judy Garland’s Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas pouring from the record player.

Your eyes opened slowly, hazily, and your breath caught in your throat at the sight of your gorgeous husband, his naked, glistening skin bathed in the warm, rosy glow of the lights on your Christmas tree. Your first Christmas tree as a married couple. Your first Christmas as the Bradshaws.

In that instant, you thought your heart might really burst with love for him. But what a way to go.

Bradley must have felt the same way you did because he suddenly lifted his head, his hips still moving slowly with yours, and reached up to lightly touch your face, awe glowing in his dark eyes, which were pricked with tears.

“You’re so beautiful, honey,” he whispered, brushing his lips against yours. “So beautiful.”

“So are you,” you breathed out, running your hands up and down his broad, muscular back. One of your hands slowly made its way back up to his face, your fingers tracing the scars on his chin and cheek. “You’re my whole heart.”

“And you’re mine,” Bradley vowed, turning his head slightly so that he could press kisses to your fingertips.

You let out a small whimper as you felt yourself approaching the precipice of another orgasm, your grip on your husband tightening as you gazed up into his eyes.

“I know, baby,” he nodded, no words necessary. “Me, too.”

Wrapping your arms tightly around him, you pressed your mouth against his shoulder as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, both your bodies tensing up as you softly panted and moaned each other’s names.

It was a soft finish, a quiet finish, with both of you clinging to each other for dear life. It was moments like these that rocked your world more than any other, moments when you truly felt that there was no telling where you ended and your husband began.

Sweaty and panting, Bradley pressed slow, sensual kisses to your shoulder and collarbone, his eyes hooded with passion as he met your gaze.

“Honey, that was so…”

“I know,” you nodded, kissing his chin gently.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you wanted to. Bradley continued to lay atop you, still buried deep within, as you tenderly stroked his face and chest.

The silence was broken only when Bradley, resting his weight on his elbows, looked down at you and suddenly asked, “Have I ever told you how beautiful you look in nothing but Christmas lights?”

Laughing, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. “Funny. I was just about to tell you the same thing.”

“I think I’ve discovered my new favorite spot to make love to you, Mrs. Bradshaw,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose against yours.

Grinning, you shot him a mischievous look and raised your eyebrows. “Then why don’t we do it again?”

“Mrs. Bradshaw, I like the way you think.”

#mr. & mrs. bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x wife!reader #rooster x reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #christmas with the bradshaws

[roosterscockpit]

Christmas Eve At Papa Mav’s | H.C

click here to see the master list

Merry Christmas Eve, my babes! I hope you all have a great holiday and be safe! I love you! ❤️ Happy reading and enjoy! 🎄❄️🎁🎅🏼☃️

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You and Bradley were sitting in the living area. The smell of gingerbread cookies filled the house. You were baking some to bring to Mav’s house. The only light was coming from all the Christmas decor around the house. It was quiet because Leia and Gunner were down for bed. 

Bradley’s Christmas playlist was playing, Jingle Bell Rock by Bobby Helms, was playing. Bradley was singing his own version of it to make you laugh, “Stroke on my, Lick on my, Suck on my cock.” He looked at you and looked at his cock. He wiggled his brows and chuckled. 

You shook your head, “Bradley Bradshaw we have a task at hand and we cannot be distracted.” You giggled and blushed. 

Bradley was throwing everything into bags. “Sweetheart, I can’t wrap for the life of me. Everything is going into a bag.” He picked up a mug you got for Mav that read “#1 Papa.” He looked at it and threw it into a bag.

You laughed as you wrapped a box of clothes for Amelia. “That’s okay, Brad. We need to have a variety of present anyways.” You tied a bow onto the wrapped gift and handed it to Bradley. He placed it in the present sac he bought. 

After wrapping their gifts, you and Bradley started to work on the ones for the squad. You all did secret Santa for each other. You had Coyote for your secret Santa and Bradley had Hangman. (Of course he did LOL)

You wrapped your gift for Coyote and Bradley struggled to wrap his for Hangman. You watched as he tried to figure out how to fold the paper. He had the tip of his tongue pressed against his top lip. His brows were furrowed and he was looking intensely at the wrapping paper. He tried to fold it a couple of ways and shook his head when it didn’t look right. He started to chew on his bottom lip. 

You giggled and bit your lip when you started to laugh a little too loud. He looked up at you raising his brows and pushing his lips together. he made eye contact with you and chuckled. “Have you been watching me struggle, baby?” 

You started to giggle more, “I have. Your concentration face is the cutest.” He laughed and shook his head, “You mean my frustration face? Baby, can you just wrap it for me? He is going to make fun of my wrapping.” He looked at you with his puppy dog eyes.

Instead you went over to him and showed him how to wrap the gift. the wrapping paper was super crinkled from all Bradley’s failed attempts. 

The next day, your little family got ready and loaded the car with all the gifts and goodies for Mav’s house. You wore a long sleeve burgundy velvet jumpsuit that had a cute bow on your stomach. Leia wore a black turtle neck with a burgundy velvet overall dress. Gunner had a burgundy velvet boy tie. Bradley wore black dress pants and a burgundy lose flowing velvet button up shirt. 

When you all arrived at Mav’s hangar it was all decorated. Outside was a welcome to the North Pole arch way. He had some lit up reindeers and a sleigh outside of the doors. When you all walked in there was a huge tree in the middle of his hangar. It was full of aviation decor. It was beautiful. There were lights hanging all over the hangar. His mustang was decorated with wreaths and garlands. There was a prop Santa and Snowman sitting in the seats of his plane. 

“Penny and Mav really out did it this year, Bradley.” You leaned into him and whispered. He chuckled, “Maybe they should host Christmas for everyone instead of us? Huh?” He laughed and looked around. 

Mav and Penny came out in matching ugly sweaters. They looked so cute. Leia ran to Mav. “PAPA! PENNY!” She crashed into them and smiled. “You both smell like gingerbread.” Mav laughed and patted her head, “We are making cookies, little Jedi.” 

Mav and Penny helped you and Bradley by taking some of the gifts from your hold. They placed them under the tree with all the other gifts. Mav called over Amelia and Leia. “Amelia, why don’t you give your present to Leia so she can put it up?” Mav smiled at her.

Amelia gave Leia a little bag. Leia smiled big as she opened it. Inside were ornaments. One was Princess Leia in a fighting stance with her light saber, another was a picture of you and Bradley when you were in university in a snowflake, an F-14 Tom Cat ornament, and a doggy paw frame with a picture of Leia and Gunner in it. Leia squealed.

“Do you want to put them on the tree, Leia?” Amelia smiled at Leia. Leia started to jump up and down as she nodded. You and Bradley watched as her and Amelia placed the ornaments onto Mav’s tree. 

Mav looked at the both of you and smiled, “So do you want to open presents now or later?” He looked at his watch. Leia screamed yes from across the hangar. Mav laughed, “I guess it is present time.” He winked at you and Bradley. Mav started to play some Christmas music while you all started to get ready for opening gifts. 

You started to hand out gifts to every one from you and Bradley. Bradley looked around the tree and looked for a gift he got for Mav. He found it and went over to Mav. “This is from me to you.” He smiled at Mav. Right before Mav could grab it Bradley held it above his head and started to laugh. “JUMP MAV!” Mav started to jump and tried to get out out of his hands. Bradley finally gave in.

Mav opened his gift. You all watched as he opened it. His expression went soft as he removed the tissue paper. It was a multiple frame collage. It had pictures of Goose and Mav together, Mav and Bradley when he was a kid, and pictures of Mav and Leia. On the bottom of the frame, “The world’s best Papa” was etched into it. Mav held it up and looked at all the pictures.  He got up and hugged Bradley. “This is the best thing I could ever get.” He cried and hugged Bradley.

Penny and Mav spoiled Leia for Christmas. They got her a battery powered Jeep she could drive around in, a battery powered jet she could drive around, Mav bought her her own aviators that had “Vapor” engraved on them, clothes, toys, and more lego sets that were Star Wars themed for her to build. 

After everyone opened their gifts, Mav looked over at you and Bradley. “I was really hoping for Christmas I was going to be opening a box that had a onesie in it.” You and Bradley looked at each other confused. “Can you guys just have more kids? I need more grandchildren I can spoil.” Mav laughed. 

Later on that night, you all made and decorated gingerbread houses together as Mav played The Santa Claus on a projector. 

Before the house could be finished, Bradley and Leia were eating it. By the end of it, you didn’t have a roof nor gingerbread people. Bradley grabbed the remaining frosting and tilted Leia’s head back. “Open up, Vapor girl!” He squished some into her mouth. He sucked the rest out of the packet. 

After the gingerbreads, there was no clean up. You all had eaten the gingerbread houses.

By the end of the night, Bradley was asleep on the couch with Leia asleep on his chest. He had his mouth slightly open and snoring. He had his arm wrapped around Leia and the other falling off the couch. You looked at your sleepy babies and smiled. You kissed both of them and threw a blanket over them. 

Mav came over and threw his arms around your shoulders, “One more gift.” He handed you one more little box. You looked at him and furrowed your brows. “Another gift for me?” You giggled. Mav nodded.

You opened the box it was a little gold locket necklace. On the front of it “Always in my heart” was engraved on it. When you opened it, one side was a picture of your mom and dad the other was a picture of Bradley and Leia. You gasped. “Mav…”

You looked at him and hugged him, “Thank you so much Mav. I love it so much.” He hugged you tight, “You’re welcome, sweetheart. Look at the back of it.” 

You closed the locket and turned the heart over. Engraved on the back, “We love you. - Mav and Penny” You held it close to your heart and a tear fell from your eye. 

“We are all always with you, y/n.” He smiled and rubbed your arms. “Merry Christmas, Sweetheart.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A little present for Christmas Eve, I hope you all enjoyed this little H.C at Mav’s hangar. Happy holidays! Muah! 🫶🏼 See you tomorrow for Christmas 🎁🎄❄️🥰

Santa’s little helpers are in the comments 🎅🏼

#Miles teller #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #christmas with the Bradshaws #Pete maverick mitchell #Merry Christmas eve #dec. 24 2022 #top gun maverick #top gun #his little girl bradley bradshaw x reader #TGM cast #i love u

[roosterforme]

Pink Christmas Part 1 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Flying in the annual holiday air show dressed as Santa Claus was just something Bradley considered to be part of his job. But when he meets an inquisitive little girl and her beautiful mom, suddenly he wants to make all of their Christmas wishes come true. The only problem is, your daughter actually believes he's Santa, and he's not sure how he's going to keep up the charade when he wants to pursue you as just Bradley.

Warnings: Fluff, language, single mom reader, mentions of loss of spouse

Length: 8000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Pink Christmas masterlist. Check out my masterlist for more! Banner by @mak-32. Written for @bellaireland1981 Winter RomCom Challenge

You sat on a beach towel in the grass with your face tilted up toward the warm sun and your five year old daughter on your lap. Never would you have imagined wearing short sleeves and enjoying this kind of warmth in December, but your life had turned unpredictable in the past twelve months. And that included leaving a city that was currently buried in snow for the perpetual summer of southern California. 

"Mommy! Look!" your daughter shouted unnecessarily loudly, making you laugh. She turned around with wide eyes to make sure you were looking where she was pointing as she adjusted her pink noise canceling headphones. "It's Santa!"

You slid her headphones off since it wasn't loud at the moment, and you looked out across the runway at the Miramar Air Show to see a tall pilot dressed as Santa Claus walking toward his fighter jet with a group of other pilots dressed as elves right behind him. "I see him," you told her, kissing her cheek as she bounced with excitement. "It looks like he's going to fly one of the airplanes."

"Why does Santa have an airplane?" she asked. "And where are his reindeer? And why are the elves getting in airplanes, too?"

You were saved from having to answer her questions as the aircraft engines fired to life for the finale of the show, and you put her ear protection back in place before putting your own earplugs back in. Honestly, you didn't know how to explain to your child who still believed in the magic of Christmas why Santa was taking off in a jet that said ROOSTER on the side of it. Frankly there were a lot of things you didn't know how to explain to her.

She clapped her hands when the jets swooped overhead in an impossible looking formation before looping back around and doing it again. Your heart melted as you watched her wave to the lead jet and shout, "Hi, Santa!" The planes roared overhead and shot upwards before coming back one by one to the land on the runway with such incredible looking ease.

When she whipped her headphones off herself this time, your daughter jumped to her feet with a huge smile on her face. "Let's go talk to Santa," she said, reaching back for your hand. 

But you already had your eyes glued on the pilot who quickly replaced his helmet with a white beard and Saint Nick hat. You couldn't help but watch him, enjoying that distant glimpse of him before he went into full Santa character again. He looked tall and strong as he climbed down the ladder in his bright red flight suit, and you had to look away as you felt the heat rise in your cheeks. He waved to everyone in the crowd, and it felt like he was waving right at the two of you.

"Mommy!"

You knew she wasn't going to be deterred from this mission, so you got to your feet and let her tug you along as you tried to fold the towel one handed. "Sweetheart, Santa and his elves might be too busy to talk to us right now," you warned her as the group of six elves in bright green flight suits started fist bumping Santa Claus. And your steps faltered, because Santa somehow just got more attractive the closer you got.

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

"Who let you be Santa anyway?" Jake asked, tugging on his red and green striped hat with enormous elf ears attached to the sides. "This elf bullshit is a damn disgrace."

"I volunteered to be Santa before the rest of you got a chance. Do I look like I'd make a good elf?" Bradley asked, and Jake rolled his eyes. "No. I do not." He was the tallest one in the group, and luckily he was able to sweet talk Maverick into letting him be the one to don the beard and the red flight suit for today's Miramar for the Holidays event they all volunteered to fly for. 

"Maverick should have mixed things up and made me Santa," Nat said with her chin in the air. 

"But you're the cutest little elf I've ever seen," Bradley told her, earning a smack on the back of his arm from her helmet. "Ow!"

"Wait, are we complaining?" Mickey asked. "I like being an elf. And apparently we get free food and hot cocoa in the volunteers tent."

"Oh, shit. Really?" Reuben asked, craning his neck to look toward the tent in question.

Bradley was about to remind everyone that they were obligated to pose for photos with kids when he heard a voice calling out, "Santa! Hey, Santa!" He turned toward the four foot tall chain link fence as an adorable little girl dragged a grown woman in his direction. 

"Hey guys, we got company," he told the others as he adjusted his white beard and red hat. When he waved toward the child, she squealed in delight, and Bradley couldn't help but laugh. As she and the woman he assumed was her mom approached the fence, Bradley leaned on the top of it. 

"Ho, Ho, Ho! What's your name, Kiddo?" he asked her with a bright smile. But his gaze inadvertently shifted to how gorgeous you looked as you held her hand, and he gave you a wink. He wouldn't mind learning your name, too.

But the little girl was eyeing him skeptically. "Shouldn't you already know my name? My mom said I'm on the nice list!" she exclaimed, gesturing up toward you.

Oh. Shit. "Uh, well, you see..."

Luckily you bailed him out with an apologetic look. "Ellie, don't be rude to Santa. He probably didn't update our names to our new address yet."

"Oh. Yeah," Bradley said, nodding in agreement and smiling. "Of course now I recognize you, Ellie. And your mom, too. Rest assured, you're both on the nice list."

But the girl wasn't convinced. "Why aren't you fatter?"

You brought your hand up to cover your face and groaned as Bradley laughed. "I needed to be able to fit in my jet."

"Why do you have a jet? Where's your sleigh?"

Bradley jerked his thumb toward the others milling around behind him. "My elves and I are trying out our jets this year. Something new."

"What about your reindeer?" she asked, undeterred. You were looking at Bradley and half smiling, half grimacing as you mouthed I'm sorry. But he didn't mind at all. Ellie was keeping him on his toes. 

"Uh... they have the year off, per their union contracts. You certainly have a lot of questions, Ellie."

She nodded up at him with her hands on her hips. "I just want to make sure you're the real Santa. I've seen a lot of impostors at the mall."

Bradley had to stifle his laughter as you said, "I had no idea she was going to be like this. I'm so sorry, Santa."

"It's fine," he reassured you, noting that you weren't wearing any rings before he returned his attention to your daughter. "Okay, Ellie. What's it going to take for you to believe I'm really Santa?"

Her brow scrunched as she contemplated his question, and Bradley used the time to check you out. It was useless, he knew that, since he looked like an idiot in his fake beard at the moment. But damn, you were pretty. And your daughter was like a tiny, inquisitive version of you.

"Well," Ellie said with a little smirk, "you should know how old I am if you're the real Santa."

You quickly held your hand up over her head to help him out, and he counted your fingers. "Of course I know that you're five years old."

Ellie's eyes softened a bit as she said, "That's right! And what's my favorite color?"

This time you juggled the items you were holding and lifted up a set of noise canceling headphones. "That's easy," Bradley replied. "I know you love pink." 

Now Ellie was smiling up at Bradley as she said, "And if you still need to update our new address, then you must know where we moved here from."

Bradley glanced up to see you pretending to shiver and rub your hands along your arms. "You moved here from somewhere cold."

"That's right!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands. "It's you! You're Santa!"

"It's really me," Bradley said, sending her a wink and nodding at you as you bit your lip and grinned. "And don't you worry, I'll have my elves take care of getting your new address straightened out. But first, I need you to prove that you're the real Ellie."

She nodded in excitement. "Ask me anything!"

"What grade are you in?"

"Kindergarten," she said, eyes filled with joy.

"Yep, that's right. Only the real Ellie would know that." You were laughing now, and Bradley loved the way it sounded. "And what's your favorite animal?"

"Pandas!" 

"Mmhmm," he hummed, pretending he was impressed that she was passing this quiz with flying colors. "I'm almost convinced it's really you."

"Seriously," she told him. "Ask me anything, because I'm sure I'm not an impostor."

Bradley glanced up at you and smirked before leaning on the fence again, and then asked Ellie, "Tell me, Kiddo. What's your mom's name?"

She blurted it out immediately, and Bradley committed it to memory. When he looked up at you again, your gaze was focused on the ground, but you looked pleased if not a little sad. He wanted to know why. 

"Would the two of you like to come in here and look at the North Pole jets?" he asked, and Ellie started bouncing up and down immediately. 

"We don't want to waste any more of your time, Santa," you told him with an apologetic look. 

"You wouldn't be," he promised, and when he said your name, you smiled and looked off to the side like you were embarrassed. "Come around the fence. You can meet my elves." He pointed to the gate a ways down where a security guard was standing. Bradley waved to him and gave him a thumbs up which the guard returned. "Santa gets special privileges."

"Fine," you said softly. "We'll just come around and meet you then?"

"Looking forward to it," he replied, and then Ellie was taking off for the fence opening with you right behind her. Bradley turned toward the others and clapped his hands. "Listen up. This little girl, Ellie, thinks I'm really Santa," he informed them. "And she thinks you're all my elves."

"Fuck," Jake groaned. 

"I'm really hungry," Bob whispered. 

"I refuse to be nice to you, even in front of a child," Nat said blandly.

"Whatever," Reuben and Javy said in unison.

"I'm so excited!" Mickey giggled, adjusting his elf ears. 

"Just be nice, okay? Here she comes... with her mom," Bradley said, really enjoying the sight of you headed his way. He cleared his throat and knelt down as Ellie streaked toward him. 

"Can I sit in one of the North Pole jets?" Ellie asked while you shook your head apologetically. 

"Really, feel free to tell her no."

But Bradley just smiled and adjusted his white beard before he scooped the child up and stood. You looked up at him with a mixture of surprise and intrigue as he said, "Sure, Kiddo, if you think you can climb that ladder? It's really tall."

"Yeah, I can do it!" Ellie said, looking past him at his F/A-18 and clapping.

"Sound okay, Mom?" he asked you, and you bit your lip and smiled. 

"Great. While Ellie and I are up there talking about what's on her Christmas list, why don't you give your information to my sweetest and most loyal elf, Phoenix."

Nat rolled her eyes at him so hard before she turned to you with a smile, and Bradley had to walk away before he started laughing too hard to stay in character. 

"Your elf is named Phoenix?" Ellie asked as he carried her toward the ladder. "What are the other ones named?"

Bradley chuckled. "They're all pretty silly sounding," he said as he set her down a few rungs from the bottom. "The big one is Payback. The one who can't stop smiling is Fanboy. The one that's yawning is Coyote. Bob is the one with glasses. And the cranky one is Hangman."

"He looks like he could use a candy cane," she said as she started to climb. 

"I think you're probably right. I should feed all of them more sweets." 

Once they reached the top, he hoisted her over the edge and climbed onto the seat behind her. "Do you want to talk about what's on your Christmas list?"

"Yeah," she said with a sigh as she plopped down on his knee and looked at him with concern. "We didn't bring most of our decorations and stuff when we moved, because there were already too many boxes."

"Oh," Bradley grunted, patting her on the shoulder. Now he was even more curious than before about where the two of you had moved from and why as his gaze met yours where you stood below with Phoenix. "Well you'll need a Christmas tree for your presents to go under."

She nodded and finally smiled when Bradley looked at her again. "The only thing I really want is a pink one!"

He blinked at her a few times. "A pink tree?"

"Yeah!  A pink Christmas tree! And an art set with pink paint."

Bradley nodded, figuring he could probably make that happen. "Sounds monochromatic but fun. Anything else?"

Ellie looked down at you and waved. Your brilliant smile for your daughter was so lovely, Bradley found himself waving too, which made you laugh. "Nothing else for me," Ellie whispered. "But something for my mom."

"Oh yeah?" he grunted when you blew a kiss up to them. Damn. He knew it was for your daughter, but he kind of wanted one of his own. "What do you think Santa should bring for your mom?"

"A boyfriend."

His gaze jerked back to Ellie's, but she looked completely serious. "You want me to get your mom a boyfriend?"

She nodded and said, "One that's tall and will play dolls with me sometimes and eat dinner at our new house. And he has to be really nice. Just like my dad was."

Bradley leaned in a little closer and wrapped his arm around her narrow shoulders. "What happened to your dad?"

"He died last year," she said matter-of-factly. "But I'm sure you knew him, because he was definitely on the nice list."s

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

You watched as your daughter gave the naval aviator she was convinced was Santa Claus a big hug. He actually looked a bit ridiculous in the bright red flight suit and hat with the white beard, but Ellie seemed to have bonded with him in some way. They were laughing together about something she whispered to him, and then he was patting her head. 

"I'll see what I can do for you, okay Ellie?" he told her, and you wondered if his voice really was that deep all the time. 

"Thanks, Santa!" She came trotting over to you and took you by the hand. "I'm ready to go home now," she told you with a smile as the 'elves' waved goodbye. A startled laugh escaped you, because the entire afternoon felt very surreal. You just gave your phone number and your new address to someone named Phoenix who was dressed as an elf even though she was definitely also a naval pilot. And now you were waving to Santa Claus who you were left to assume was named Bradley Bradshaw based on what was painted on the side of his jet. 

"Did you have a fun time with Santa?" you asked as you walked back toward the opening in the gate, chuckling at your own words. 

"Yeah. He's really nice. I could have probably stayed and talked to him all night," she replied, and when you turned back he was still looking at you. The casual wave of his hand made your heart skip a beat. You really wanted this again. That familiarity with another person. The ease. The perpetually happy child next to you.

"Yeah... he seems pretty great."

But you were really annoyed with yourself when you spent nearly a full hour after you got Ellie in bed imagining what his face might look like without the fake beard. It had barely been three months since you stopped wearing your wedding rings. It was just over a year ago that your husband died unexpectedly. You were decidedly not in the market for dating anyone while Ellie was this young, because she deserved all of your attention. So why were you thinking about this Bradley guy and how sweet he was with your daughter?

You collapsed onto your bed and grabbed your phone from the nightstand. You didn't do the wordle yet for today, and you still needed to check the weather for tomorrow. But you got distracted by a text from a number you didn't recognize. 

Hey, it's Bradley Bradshaw. I mean Santa. I hope you don't mind me texting you.

You sat up in your bed so quickly. Your stomach lurched as butterflies took up residence, and your fingers quivered a little bit as you gripped your phone. What were you supposed to do? "Text him back," you muttered to yourself. "Get a grip." 

You looked across the room at your wedding photo on your dresser. It had been in one of the few moving boxes you managed to unpack already, and it made you smile every time you looked at it. Right now was no exception; that was one of the best days of your life. But when you looked back down at your phone, you didn't feel a pang of sadness or regret. You felt intrigued. So you saved Bradley's number and then texted him back.

I don't mind one bit. I'm happy to have the chance to thank you again for earlier. You made Ellie's day! Mine, too!

And then you waited with your phone in your hand, half embarrassed and half excited by the idea of getting another text from him.

Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: Your daughter is a bit of a spitfire. I was very entertained by her. And there's no need to thank me. It was the highlight of my day.

Dealing with your sassy five year old was the highlight of his day? You squealed and had to set your phone down while you walked around your room for a few minutes. The highlight of his day? He was a fighter pilot! He flew a jet around at the air show!

"Oh god," you groaned, crawling back across your bed to your phone. You were already a lost cause. Over a man who had been dressed as Santa Claus? Ridiculous.

But now you were scrambling over what to type back to him. Send him a Santa emoji? No. You were flustered as you sent him the first random thing that came to your mind.

You make a great Santa. You know, in case you ever contemplate a career change.

You looked at the words on your phone screen and cringed. You glanced back at your wedding photo and sighed. If that was your best attempt at flirting, then it was amazing you'd ever been married at all. And this man you met today didn't even seem bothered that you had a kid. That was a miracle in itself. You got ready to toss your phone aside for the night when he sent back a smiling emoji and another text.

Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: I'll keep that in mind as a potential retirement gig. 

You wanted to tell him he looked pretty good in a fake beard. You wanted to tell him you were curious what he looked like without it. You wanted to keep him talking a little bit longer, because you could feel the adrenaline fueled blood pumping through your body, and it felt exciting. But before you could even say anything else, Bradley had you burying your face in your pillow so you could scream without waking Ellie up.

Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: But here's the thing. I'm an absolute sucker for cute girls. When can I see the two of you again?

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

Bradley had to wait a little bit for a response from you, and he was sweating. He didn't want to push too hard, especially after Ellie told him her dad died, but he was intrigued. Plus, he was already googling pink Christmas trees. 

Ellie's Mom: Ellie and I are kind of suckers for sweet Santas. What did you have in mind?

He lounged back in his bed with a smile on his face. Was he about to drop five hundred bucks on an eight foot tall pink tree? Hell yes. Especially since you just called him sweet. 

Ellie asked Santa for a pink Christmas tree. I want to order it tonight if you can confirm it will fit in your house. And then I'd love to come by and set it up one day.

You wrote back almost immediately after he sent the link to the tree. 

Ellie's Mom: You don't have to buy that for her! It's so expensive! Honestly, you don't need to buy her anything!

Bradley sighed. The kid thought he was really Santa Claus, so there was no way she wasn't getting a pink tree and a pink art kit. It was the boyfriend request that made him chuckle, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't interested in the idea of seeing you again. 

But I want to. Any chance you can measure the space for me?

He had to wait a little bit longer again for you to answer, but this time he was rewarded with photos that had him sitting up in bed and staring at his phone. 

Ellie's Mom: I can't find a measuring tape in all these moving boxes, but here's the spot where a tree could go. And here I am for reference.

You were smiling in the selfies, looking a little shy but just as pretty as earlier today, and you had on a shirt that looked so soft, he wanted to touch it. "God damn it," he grunted, already tapping out a response. 

I think Santa should stop by in person and check the measurements, just to be on the safe side. Also, you're gorgeous.

"Oh fuck," groaned after he hit send. He really didn't mean to come on so strong, especially since he just met you. He busied himself with ordering the pink tree that he was sure would fit in that spot along with some colorful ornaments and tried not to count the minutes until you wrote back.

Ellie's Mom: We'll be home on Monday evening. I'm sure Ellie would love another visit from Santa. And so would I.

Bradley wrote back letting you know roughly what time he could stop by, and then he started to formulate a plan. 

On Monday, in the locker room after work, he changed out of his regular flight suit and showered before zipping himself into his bright red one. His measuring tape, beard and Santa hat were already waiting in the Bronco, and he swung by his favorite bakeshop on his way out of Coronado. The place was packed with customers placing orders for Christmas goodies, so he was happy he decided to call ahead. He grabbed the box he already paid for and got back on the road, following his GPS across the city to the outskirts of town.

Your place was a cute town home with a pink Christmas wreath on the door and the windows lit with a warm glow as the sun set. Bradley got his Santa beard and hat situated using his rearview mirror, and then he grabbed the box and the measuring tape and made his way up to the front porch. As soon as he knocked, his heart beat a little faster, and a few seconds later, you were opening the door for him with a smile. 

"Hey, Santa," you said softly with a crooked little smile. Bradley took you in from head to toe, his eyes catching on your lips and your pink sweater as he heard Ellie come bounding down the stairs. 

"Santa!"

He looked past you just in time to see your daughter come streaking toward him wearing a pink dress and launching herself into his arms. He bent and caught her a little awkwardly as he laughed. "What are you doing here?" she asked as she hugged him. 

"Came to make sure you're still on the good list." Bradley grinned up at you where you stood biting your lip. "Well, Mom? Has she been listening and behaving?"

You nodded. "Yes, Santa. She's been very well behaved."

"Excellent," he replied, releasing Ellie and handing her the box which she opened right away.

She gasped and looked up at him. "Pink Christmas cookies?"

"Yeah, I just thought the two of you might like something sweet."

You were looking at him with softly parted lips, and then you said, "Aren't we supposed to be leaving cookies out for you later this month?"

"I wouldn't complain if you did," he replied as Ellie handed you a pink snowflake cookie. He watched you bite into it, and he realized he was staring. 

"Want one?" Ellie asked, tugging on his hand. 

"No, those are for the two of you, Kiddo. I'm really here to measure the room for your pink tree. I want to drop it off before Christmas so there's something for your presents to go under."

Ellie screeched and nearly dropped the cookies all over the floor as you took the box from her. She pulled Bradley into the living room and showed him where she wanted her tree to go, and then she helped him measure the space while she asked him what he wanted for Christmas.

"Does Mrs. Claus get you something every year?" she asked, eyes wide and focused on him. 

He wasn't sure how to answer her as he knelt on the floor with the measuring tape in his hand. So he decided to just be honest. "I actually don't have a Mrs. Claus yet."

When Ellie's eyes drifted from him up to you where you stood a few feet away, Bradley couldn't help but follow suit. "Mommy," she whispered. "We need to get something for Santa."

"Okay," you whispered back, barely glancing at Bradley before looking back at your daughter. "We can do that."

Ellie turned back to him and asked, "If I leave a present under the tree on Christmas Eve, will you know it's for you when you get here?"

"Of course. Just write my name on it so I know it's mine." Then she kissed him on his cheek right above his white beard, and Bradley melted a little bit inside. 

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

You and your daughter waved from your front door as Santa left with his tape measure and one of the pink cookies. Ellie insisted he take the one that was decorated like a reindeer with him, and you watched as he ate it while he started up his vintage blue Bronco. When he honked and waved goodbye, Ellie jumped up and down. 

"Santa's bringing me a pink tree!" she gushed, and honestly, you were feeling a little silly over that man, too. Your skin tingled as you closed the door and looked at the rest of the cookies. You felt like he was spoiling the two of you even though you barely knew him. 

"Let's go get ready for bed," you whispered, ushering her toward the stairs before you took the cookies to your kitchen to have a moment to yourself. Last Christmas had been a nightmare as it was just a few weeks after you lost your husband, and now you'd moved to San Diego to have a fresh start with a new job and a new school and a new city. You couldn't handle another holiday in the house that the three of you had shared. 

California was warm and welcoming, but the last thing you had expected to find here right away was a man that made your heart skip a beat. You knew your husband wouldn't want you to give up the idea of dating someone else, but you'd convinced yourself that nobody would want the two of you even though Ellie was a sweet kid. 

You set the pretty cookies down on the counter and sighed. Bradley didn't seem to mind that Ellie was around. If anything, he seemed to really like her. He was buying her a tree even though you told him he didn't have to do that. You were more than capable of getting one, but he wasn't going to be deterred. 

And Ellie definitely liked him, helped in part by the fact that she seemed completely convinced he was actually Santa. 

"You don't even really know what his face looks like," you groaned as you closed the box and headed upstairs. It didn't even matter though, because you could still tell he was handsome with the kind of brown eyes you just wanted to keep looking at. But how embarrassing were you? Crushing on him like this.

After you got Ellie in bed, you texted Bradley to say thank you, and he wrote back immediately. 

Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: It was my pleasure.

You imagined him saying those words in his deep voice in person, and you were still thinking about him the next morning when you woke up. You picked up your framed wedding photo and sighed in exasperation. "He reminds me a bit of you, honestly," you told your deceased husband who smiled back from the frame. "He's funny and kind of sweet. Maybe I just miss you. I don't know."

But you found yourself unable to get much work done from your home office while Ellie was at school. You kept sneaking down to the kitchen to get pink cookies, and by late afternoon, you caved like a house of cards and texted Bradley.

I can't stop thinking about what you might look like without your Santa beard and hat.

You set your phone down on your desk and stared at it. What were you, fucking insane or something? You must be. After twenty minutes with no response, you grabbed a sweatshirt and went for a walk around the block without your phone. You had forgotten how to flirt. That had to be what was going on here. You no longer knew how to be normal or subtle in any way, because it had been so long since you needed to be. When you moved to San Diego to start over again, you must have forgotten to pack your ability to act chill in front of men you were attracted to. 

You stood on your front porch and took a deep breath before heading back inside. You needed to stop this. After Bradley came back with the pink tree for Ellie, he wasn't going to want to keep hanging out anyway. It was better to just stop this thing in its tracks right now. You ran back upstairs to your desk and grabbed your phone. He probably hadn't responded yet, which was great, because you could text him again and tell him you were just joking.

"Haha," you muttered as you sat down. "Just kidding, Santa."

But he had already replied. Oh. And he sent a selfie. Oh my. "Oh my god." He was even hotter than you imagined. He had a mustache. A real one, not the white one. He wasn't wearing the red hat either, and as a result, you got to see how soft his light brown curls looked. And he was smiling, his lips and his eyes already familiar to you. Then you made a small, strangled sound as you read the accompanying text.

Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: Greetings from North Island... I mean, the North Pole. And by the way, I can't stop thinking about you either.

You literally melted out of your chair and onto the spare bedroom floor. You thought about reaching for your computer to put up your out of office message, but you couldn't stop looking at the photo long enough to focus on anything else. You were laying on your back looking at your phone, and you nearly dropped it on your face when he wrote back again.

Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: The tree should arrive on Thursday. I was thinking I could take a half day at work and come over to set it up on Friday afternoon while Ellie is at school? Then I could see you again, too...

You rolled onto your front and started typing. Of course you wanted him to come back on Friday. You hit send before you realized that you'd be here alone with him. You'd have no five year old to buffer yourself from almost certain embarrassment.

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

Everyone else was picking out poinsettias or red and green blooms, but when Bradley got to the florist, he asked for a big bouquet of pink flowers as well as a smaller one. Just pink flowers. Nothing else. He paid and left with both of them in one hand and ran back across the street to his Bronco. 

He was running late. He told you he'd be there around one o'clock, but it was already half past. Of course he needed to shower before he left work at noon, since he smelled like jet fuel, and then he had to stop back at home and load the tree and everything else into the Bronco before he could head to your place. 

The last thing he wanted was for you to think he didn't want to spend as much time with you and Ellie as possible right now. Frankly he was looking forward to spending a little time alone with you, even if it was just while he was putting the tree up. When he finally made it across town, he checked the time and winced before running up the sidewalk and knocking. And if he was already a little bit out of breath, it only got worse when you opened the door and smiled at him. 

"Sorry I'm late," he said. "I realized on my way here that I must have been overzealous when I told you I would be here by one."

You grinned and shrugged. "It's okay. Come on in." You closed the door behind him and asked, "Are those for Ellie?" You were gesturing at the flowers he forgot he was holding. 

"Oh," he said, pulling the bouquets apart. "One's for you." Your eyes went wide as he held the bigger bunch out, and your fingers brushed his when you took it. "The little one's for Ellie."

You were looking up at him in surprise and your voice was soft as you said, "Thank you." 

"Yeah, well, I didn't know what your favorite color was, so I went all in on the pink."

You were grinning again as you buried your nose in one of the fuchsia colored roses. "It's pink. Good job, Santa."

Bradley laughed. "I should have known. The two of you have me seeing pink everywhere now."

"I'm not sorry about that," you said, reaching for the other bouquet. "I'll put these in the kitchen."

He handed it over and said, "And I'll bring the tree inside." He watched you turn away from him, and he kept his eyes on you until you were almost out of sight which resulted in you turning around and catching him staring. He didn't mind. 

Bradley made two trips inside with the tree and all of the lights and ornaments, but you must have still been in the kitchen. Or maybe you went upstairs or something. He'd been hoping you wanted to hang out a little bit and chat, but he already had the enormous tree box open with pink branches spilling out of it when you returned with two mugs. 

"I made you some hot chocolate." 

Nobody had made him a mug of hot chocolate since he was a kid himself. "You did?"

"Yeah. But if you don't want it, that's fine." You looked a little shy now, so he stood and reached for the pink mug you were offering to him. 

"I love hot chocolate. I just don't drink it much now that I live where it's usually warm."

"Where are you from?" you asked before you pursed your pretty lips and blew on your drink.

Bradley smirked. "Would I be remiss if I told you I'm actually from Virginia and not the North Pole?"

Your bright laughter had him taking a step closer to you. "Not at all. Just don't tell Ellie that. She's already working on a Christmas present for you. I mean for Santa."

"Is she really?" he asked, suddenly unable to stop smiling. When you nodded, he asked, "What is it?

"I can't tell you! That would ruin the surprise."

"Yeah... don't tell me. I wouldn't want to disappoint her." Bradley took a sip before setting his mug down on a coaster and kneeling in front of the tree box. 

You cleared your throat as he started pulling branches out. "How long have you been living in San Diego?"

"About six years. I finally got a permanent station at North Island after moving around. A lot." He lined all of the pieces up on the floor as you took a few steps closer. 

"How old are you?" you asked him. When he glanced up, you added, "If you don't mind me asking."

He smiled. "I don't mind you asking me anything you want to ask me. I'm thirty seven."

"How are you possibly single?" you blurted out before hiding your mug in front of your mouth. "I'm sorry." You paced back and forth across the living room a few times as you said, "I'm so bad at this. Like epically bad at it. Because I haven't had to do it in so long."

"Do what?" he asked, trying not to laugh as you came to a stop right in front of him. 

You made a cute little sound before you whispered, "I have forgotten how to even attempt to flirt with a man."

He had to press his lips together to hold his laughter in. You were actually serious right now. "I thought you were doing alright."

"You did?" you asked, gaping up at him. 

"Yeah. I mean, you sent me those cute selfies when you didn't have a measuring tape."

You licked your lips and took a step away from him. "No one has called me cute since my husband died."

Bradley could feel his lungs deflating. He hated that you had to live through that. He was also selfishly a little afraid you were going to tell him you weren't looking to date again. This was really the only reason he hadn't asked you out already. Well, that and the fact that your daughter was currently convinced he was Santa Claus. 

But he thought he should try his luck. "Someone should be calling you cute every day. You and Ellie both. Like I said, I'm a complete sucker for cute girls."

You looked a little flustered now as you sipped your hot chocolate, so Bradley returned to his mission of putting the massive tree together in the corner of your living room. When he paused to drink from his own mug, you came over to help him. Wordlessly, the two of you assembled it until it was too tall for you to reach. 

When you handed the top part of the tree to him, he whispered, "Thanks." Your hand seemed to linger on his. Or maybe he imagined it. 

"It's nice having someone so tall around," you said. "You must have no problems putting your own tree up."

"Nah," he said, sliding the last piece into place. "I don't even put one up at home. Seems like a waste when it's just for me."

"You don't have a tree?" you asked, and your hand came to rest on his forearm. Bradley's eyes snapped to yours as you said, "If you can continue to handle all the pink... maybe you'd want to come back over and enjoy this one with us?"

"As Santa?" he asked. "I really got myself into a mess with Ellie, didn't I?"

You bit your lip as you looked up at him. "Yeah... she's kind of attached to Santa now."

Bradley was fighting the urge to just kiss you, because you were right there. And you probably tasted like hot chocolate. And the closer you got, the prettier you looked. 

"Should we add the lights?" you asked softly, your hand still on his left arm. "Before Ellie gets home?"

Very slowly, he raised his right hand so there would be no doubt in your mind what was coming. He traced your cheek with his fingertips as your eyes fluttered closed. "Yeah. Let's do the lights and the decorations before she gets back. I didn't bring my beard and my hat today."

"Okay," you breathed, leaning into his touch for a beat before you released his arm and pulled away. "I'll... get the lights ready." You turned and started to open some of the boxes of white twinkle lights while Bradley got the ornaments opened up.

He took out the pink and silver star, and when he reached up toward the top branches, you wrapped the lights around him and the tree at the same time. "If you want to keep me here with you, just say so. You don't need to tie me up."

You laughed. "I couldn't keep you even if I wanted to. You're Santa Claus, remember? You have a million toys to deliver next week."

Bradley caught you gently by the arm as you looped the lights around his back again. "To be crystal clear, I'm only doing this for you and Ellie. Nobody else."

You wrapped the lights a little tighter and said, "To be crystal clear, I like the way that sounds."

Bradley smirked as you finally loosened the strand and freed him. "Listen," he said as he followed you slowly around the tree as you put the lights on correctly this time. "Santa doesn't have time to play games before Christmas. He's very busy."

"Really?" you asked, looking back at him as you strung the lights higher and higher on the pink tree. "This kind of feels like a game to me, Santa."

He took over with the strand once it got too high for you to reach, and when he was done, he watched you pick up one of the boxes of ornaments. There were a bunch of pink and blue hearts and stars, and you smiled up at him. So he decided to go for it. Because he knew this was a rare opportunity he'd been given. "Santa is actually pretty serious right now. About you."

When you immediately returned your gaze to the box in your hands, Bradley ran his hands through his hair. You looked a little flustered again, just like you had when you claimed you forgot how to flirt. Whatever you were doing to him, he liked it. He liked how it felt to be around you and Ellie, too. He ducked behind the tree to plug the lights in, illuminating everything in a soft, pink glow, and then he tried to find the energy to help you finish the tree without pushing this any further.

"Hey, Santa?"

"Yeah?" he replied, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached for an ornament from the box you were holding. 

You seemed to weigh your words before you said them which had Bradley's heart beating a little faster before you even spoke. "I wasn't planning on anything serious. Not really ever again."

"Oh." Serious was the kind of thing he was looking for now. Serious was actually what he wanted. He hung the pretty blue heart shaped ornament and then let his hand fall to his side. His heart felt heavy like a stone sinking to the bottom of a lake as you reached up in front of his face to hang a pink and white heart next to his blue one.

"At least that's what I thought before we moved here," you added.

He looked at you with one raised eyebrow. "Something changed your mind?"

"More like someone," you whispered, handing him another pink heart ornament which he carefully hung just above the other two. He wanted to know for sure if he was the one that changed your mind, but you pulled your phone out of your pocket and gasped. 

"Ellie's bus should be here in a couple minutes."

"Right," he said softly. You and he finished decorating the tree, not so subtly stealing glances at each other the whole time. If there was even a chance with you, he wanted to take it, but he didn't want to press any harder today. 

When he reached for his empty mug, you shook your head and said, "You can leave it. I'll clean up later."

"Okay." With nothing else keeping him at your house he started to head for the front door, but you caught his hand in yours. 

"Wait." Your eyes were wide and a little hesitant, but when you tugged gently, he went willingly, slowly closing the distance between you body and his. "Thank you. For the tree and the ornaments. And the cookies. And the flowers."

He shook his head. "It's my pleasure. You don't have to thank me again."

"But I want to," you whispered, running your thumb along the back of his hand. "I want to do a lot of things. But they feel a little scary." When you paused, he didn't rush you. Your eyes were taking in every detail of his face, and you were smiling softly. "Things I haven't done in a long time. Things I never anticipated I'd be doing again. At least not while Ellie is so young."

Bradley opened his mouth, intending to tell you he could wait a few weeks or months to ask you out if that would make things easier for you, but you tugged gently on his hand again, rendering him silent. When your other hand came to rest on his chest, he held his breath. Your gaze stayed locked on your hand as you slowly guided it up along his shoulder and collarbone until it came to rest gently on the scars on the side of his neck. 

The soft stroke of your thumb and even the gentle flex of your fingers could have brought him to his knees. And then you finally met his eyes. "I really want to," you murmured as you stood on tiptoes, your chest brushing his. Bradley's brain took a beat longer to respond than his heart did, but when you tilted your face up to his and let your eyes flutter shut, he closed the distance to your lips with his. 

And it was perfect. The softest kiss of his life, but he could feel his entire body responding to you. With a soft gasp, you released his lips, but you didn't go far. When you met his eyes, you must have liked what you saw there, because you kissed him again. And again. And when Bradley guided your other hand around his neck, you kissed him a little deeper. 

"Oh," you gasped, running your nose along his cheek as your fingers teased the back of his neck. When your lips met his again, he held you close with his hands on your lower back, and Bradley decided he could do this forever. All of it. The pink flowers and decorating the tree and the perfect kisses. 

Then the front door knob rattled, and you broke away from his lips. Your eyes looked hazy at first, and you had the prettiest smile on your face before you pulled yourself out of his grasp as Ellie came inside. Your daughter looked back and forth between the two of you as you pressed your fingertips to your lips, and Bradley winced as Ellie asked him, "Who are you?"

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

Bradley! I mean, Santa! Where is your beard?! I hope you loved part one! Part two is coming soon. This one took a village so thank you to @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls @thedroneranger and @cherrycola27

PART 2

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster x reader #rooster imagine #rooster fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #pink christmas #winterromcomchallenge

[jupitercomet]

There Are 15 People in This House, You’re the Only One Who Has to Make Trouble

summary - Your job was simple: write a heartwarming article about the selfless firefighters who are working around the clock instead of celebrating the holidays. You thought it would be easy, firefighters are supposed to be friendly, right? Well the fire captain who's had it out for you since the day that you started certainly isn't. When he's not undermining you at every turn, he's making your life a living hell and downright ruining your Christmas. All because he caught you from falling out of a tree one time!

warnings - firefighter au, language, enemies to lovers (I tried), firefighting inaccuracies, mentions of guns, mentions of arson, there's a fire, mentions of toxic family, age gap though it's not really specified, a little suggestive, Bradley is 6'6" because I said so

word count - 14.2k

this fic is part of @sailor-aviator christmas challenge, be sure to check out what everyone else has written and I hope you enjoy!

the christmas fics

“Honey, I don’t think—” 

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Layford,” you wave off the older woman as you move to unbutton your coat. “Here, hold this please.” She takes your purse from you apprehensively, still wary as you set your coat on the ground and start sizing up the tree in front of you.

Mrs. Layford wets her lips against the chill of the morning air, trying again to deter you when you wrap your hand around one of the low branches. “I’ve already called the fire department, honey. They said they’re on their way.”

With a soft grunt, you hoist yourself up onto the lowest branch of the tree, peering through the snow covered foliage to catch sight of your target. Mittens, the slightly pudgy (though you’d never say it to his face—or Mrs. Layford’s) orange tabby, clings to one of the branches, letting out distressed meows every few seconds. He has a habit of getting stuck in trees—hence why Mrs. Layford knows most of the firefighters by name—and as the neighbor she often came to for help with things like the wifi and the apartment upstairs that plays their music too loud, you felt it was your civic duty to rescue Mittens on this snowy morning.

“Hey, buddy,” you call out to him softly before turning back to call down to Mrs. Layford. “I’ll have him out before they even get here, don’t worry.”

Letting go of the tree with one hand, you move to unwrap your scarf from around your neck, balancing around the rough bark of the trunk. You certainly have a hole in your tights and this was not the best activity to do in a skirt, but you shuffle along the trunk anyway and now, if you outstretch your hand all the way, you can reach the tips of Mittens’ puffed out fur.

“Oh, thank goodness!” You hear the relieved voice of Mrs. Layford, but you’re too busy trying to maneuver your scarf around Mittens’ plump middle that you don’t look down. “My neighbor’s trying to get him now but…”

Whatever she’s saying dies off and suddenly you hear heavy footsteps approaching the tree. A gruff voice clears its throat. “Ma’am, I’m going to need you to get down from there.”

You wrinkle your nose. Ma’am? You’re 27. That’s hardly an age that people start calling you “ma’am”. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever been called ma’am in your life. “Miss” maybe, but never “ma’am”—“mademoiselle” that one time you went to Montreal on a work trip.

“Ma’am—”

“Hold on, hold on! I almost got him.” You interrupt the man who is terrible at estimating ages, finally wrapping your scarf around Mittens.

Carrying a cat in a scarf is a two handed job, and a cat as heavy as Mittens had no trouble throwing off your balance. You suppose you should have thought more of this through—if you were holding Mittens, it meant that you weren’t holding the tree and your thighs are not quite secure nor strong enough to keep you attached to the bark. A shriek leaves your lips and you hold Mittens to your chest as you suddenly lose your footing on the branch and feel yourself falling backwards off the tree.

Closing your eyes tight, you prepare for the impact of hitting either icy dirt or concrete sidewalk, but feel neither when you land in secure arms and a solid chest, the scent of cedar and smoke almost overpowering your senses. 

Blinking your eyes open, you collect your bearings and find yourself face to face with a well groomed mustache that’s twitching in agitation. Before he can say anything, Mrs. Layford is rushing over to you with a worried expression pinching her features.

You unwrap your scarf quickly, holding out an unharmed Mittens to hand over. “He’s okay,” you assure her. “Not a scratch on him.”

Mrs. Layford lets out a breath of relief, holding the cat close to her chest before turning her attention to the man still holding you. “Thank you, Bradley.”

“What? I saved him! Don’t I deserve a thank you?” You squawk in offense.

“Well, he saved you both,” Mrs. Layford glares at you with a look that tells you that you don’t want to keep arguing with her. Her face softens when she turns back to your—alleged—savior. “I’m sorry for any trouble we’ve caused, I’ll bring some cookies over to the station for you and the boys.”

“No need.” You feel his words vibrate in his chest, sending tingles along your arm. “Happy to be of service.” He lifts you suddenly, as if to gesture to you, and you let out a squeak of surprise, clinging to his compact, black t-shirt. “I’m just gonna check her for any injuries and be on my way. Why don’t you and Mittens go inside where it’s warm.”

Mrs. Layford does just that, with one last goodbye, and you watch her make her way back into your apartment building with one last glance back at you. Finally, the firefighter sets you back down on your own two feet, crossing his very large arms as he scans you up and down. You can’t help but fidget under his stare even though you know he’s only making sure you’re okay.

“Do you usually have this much disregard for your own life, ma’am?” He asks finally.

You scoff. “I wouldn’t have died from a fall from that height. And don’t call me ma’am.”

“Yes, you could have. You were falling backwards—head first at that—if you had landed on your neck wrong, this could have been a whole different story,” the firefighter narrows his eyes cockily, like he’s beaten you somehow by being more right than you. “And what should I call you then? Kitty? ‘Cause those are the only things I save from trees.” He smirks when your jaw drops at his audacity.

“Excuse me? I was saving a kitty. You were just standing there—”

“Just standing there?” He drops his cool guy persona to look at you incredulously. “I saved you from serious injury!”

“Ha! So you admit I wouldn’t have died!”

The firefighter’s mouth snaps shut when you point a finger at him. You watch his jaw clench and then he rolls his eyes.

“Well as delightful as this has been, I’m going to be late,” you smile at him sweetly as you bend down to grab your coat, much more smug now that you’ve finally silenced the man in front of you. “Gosh, I hope the firefighters I have to interview are as heroic and charming as you.” You shove your arms through your jacket before shooting him another look. “Am I free to go?”

“You know what—” The firefighter looks like he’s going to start another lecture, before his features falter and he pauses. “Did you say you’re interviewing firefighters?”

“Yeah, I’m writing an article for the paper. For the holidays and all that,” you pause from buttoning your coat, fingers stilling on one of the large, black buttons.

“You walking?” He questions.

You give him a weird look. “...Yeah?”

He looks at you for a moment and then lets out a deep sigh. “Come with me.”

“Excuse me? I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Well, you might as well.” With that, he starts walking away from you, not even giving you the decency of facing you as he continues his sentence. “We’re going the same place, kitty.”

“So…” You tap your fingers along the wooden stool below you, drawing out the word as you watch the man in front of you clean up things around the station. “Bradley Bradshaw, huh?”

“Fire Captain Bradley Bradshaw.” He corrects.

You hold back an eye roll, lifting your pen to jot something down on your notepad. “Right.”

“What are you writing?” Bradley stops suddenly, marching over to you and ripping your notepad from you before you can protest. He reads over the few words you have scribbled and narrows his eyes. “I do not have an authority kink. And I highly doubt your article is supposed to be about my sex life.”

You shrug, plucking the notepad back from him. “I’m just writing what I see.” Hoping down from the stool, you give him another sickeningly sweet smile. “Maybe if you actually gave me an interview, I wouldn’t have to rely on my people reading skills.”

“I already told you, I already have a guy that’ll give you an interview. He eats this press shit up.” Again Bradley seems to have no regard for face-to-face conversations as he’s already walking away from you.

You’re borderline running to keep up with him. “And I already told you that my assignment is to follow you guys around for a week, I’m going to need more than one interview.”

“Alright, fine.” Bradley stops suddenly and you nearly trip over your own feet to stop from bumping into him. “You want an interview? Here’s an interview. I’m a firefighter, I fight fires. Sometimes I catch careless girls from falling out of trees—it’s not really my job, but I like to give back to the community.” He shrugs sarcastically. “When I’m not putting out fires, I wait here until someone calls me to put out a fire, and then I do. That good enough for you?”

You ignore his not so subtle dig at you in favor of jotting down notes. This is probably the most you’re gonna get with him, so you might as well take advantage of it. “Are you sad you won’t be getting time off for the holidays?”

“No, I’m not. I don’t really celebrate, so I don’t care that much.” Bradley crosses his arms.

“Uh-huh,” you nod, still looking at your notepad. “And when will you be accepting your award from People Magazine for Grumpiest Man of the Year?”

“When will I—” When Bradley processes your words, his jaw clenches and you’re suddenly aware of your height difference as he towers over you menacingly. “Oh, you’re real funny, kitty. Look, in case I haven’t made it clear, I don’t like you. And if I had it my way, you wouldn’t be here at all, so let me make this easy for you. Stay out of my way.”

The two of you stare at each other and you note how tense Bradley’s shoulders are. He looks like one of those bulls in the bullfighting rings that chase after the red capes. You read once that it isn’t the color red that sets off the bull, but actually the movement of the cape and if you’re the red cape in this scenario then you probably shouldn’t move. Honestly you wonder if bulls can even see the color red. But that caricature of a bull with smoke coming out of his nose is exactly what Bradley looks like right now. You wonder if you should tell him that.

“Seresin.” He barks suddenly, still keeping his eyes on you and it takes everything in you not to jump.

You hadn’t even noticed the other firefighter making his way down the stairs and you’re mildly impressed by Bradley’s peripheral vision. Finally Bradley breaks eye contact with you and it’s only then that you turn to take in the other man in front of you.

Much like Bradley, he’s unfairly tall. His uniform certainly hugs him in all the right places and he fills it out with what you know is concentrated muscle. Blond hair is gelled up slightly on his head and piercing green eyes meet your own with a polite smile that his captain hadn’t given you.

Bradley nods his head in your direction. “Give our journalist here an interview.”

“Sorry, Captain,” The man’s eyes dart to the exit and he almost seems to shift his weight nervously. “I actually have to be somewhere—”

“That was an order, Lieutenant.” Bradley interrupts him and then he’s stalking off before you or the other man can get another word in.

With that lovely, uncomfortable aura in the air, you shoot the man in front of you an apologetic smile. “Hi,” you introduce yourself, holding out a hand. “I’m with the Union-Tribune. I’m writing an article about the firefighters working over the holidays and would love to get an interview from you if you have the time.”

“Well, apparently I do,” the blond chuckles awkwardly, scratching at his neck as he shakes your hand with his other one. “Jake Seresin.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jake.” You smile again.

He nods—infinitely friendlier than a certain Bradley Bradshaw. “So what questions were you wanting to ask me?”

You move to find somewhere for the two of you to sit and Jake follows with what looks to be a strained smile. His name feels familiar, though you certainly couldn’t have put it to the face, and you recall a recent article one of your colleagues had written about a nasty apartment fire that had practically brought the complex down. As of now, there weren’t any casualties, but you’d heard there had been a high number injured, including one in critical condition. Jake Seresin had been one of the firefighters to arrive on the scene—that’s how you recognized his name—and had been the last one to go in and look for any other people.

You know better than to ask him about the event, not when it has nothing to do with your article. You clear your throat with another smile. “Um, did you always know you wanted to be a firefighter?”

“I guess so,” Jake chuckles before pulling a bit of a face. “I thought it looked cool in the movies. My ma always said I was a bit of a wild child.”

“Oh, so you find firefighting to be a bit of an adrenaline rush?” You push.

“Well, I—” Jake falters. “I don’t know if I’d say that. I mean it can be, but it’s also…” He trails off, clearly looking for words that don’t seem to be coming to him.

“It’s okay,” you assure, knowing when to move on. “Complicated question. What about the holidays? Are you sad to be working?”

Jake looks infinitely relieved that you’ve changed the subject. “Originally, I was planning on heading home but… things changed and I figured if I was staying here, I might as well be working.” He glances at his watch suddenly and winces. “Is there another time we could do this? I’m sorry, but I really have to get somewhere.”

You nod hastily. “Of course! I’m sorry to keep you. I’ll be here all week so anytime you’re free, you know where to find me.”

Jake lets out a breath of relief. “Thanks. I’ll— I’ll be sure to do that.” He gives you an awkward wave before hastily heading towards the exit. Right as his hand meets the door, Jake pauses, turning back to you with a more sincere smile. “Oh, and don’t worry about Bradley. He’s like that with everyone.”

You watch him leave before sagging in your seat with a soft sigh. If the rest of the firefighters were like Jake then maybe this week wouldn’t be so bad—at the very least, you’d be able to write your article. Your thoughts drift to honeyed brown eyes and that permanent sneer that seems to cement every time it’s shot in your direction. You look down at your notes.

Bradley Bradshaw:

Authority kink

Biting back a smile, you scribble something quickly.

Authority kink (maybe)

The next day, you’re back at the fire station with a bright smile on your face. After a good night’s rest, you’ve decided that you’re not about to let the whole Bradley thing deter you. You are a trained professional and you’re certainly not about to let a man with a stick up his ass make the world think any differently. Securing your fingers around the bright pink box in your hands, you take one finally deep breath before walking inside the station.

“Hello?” You peer around, hoping to catch a lingering firefighter (ideally doing something praisable, like fostering a litter of abandoned kittens—it would look good for the article.) When you find no response, you call out again, louder this time. “I brought doughnuts.”

There’s a slight commotion from upstairs and then a group of six are filing down the stairs. At the front of the pack is a man with the prettiest curls you’ve ever seen, his eyes lit up excitedly as he takes in the treats in your hands.

He shoots his hand up suddenly. “I call jelly-filled!”

The man behind him shoves him and you hold back a gasp when he almost trips over the last step because of it. “You can’t call the jelly-filled one, dude.” You watch as they both make it down the stairs, still arguing with each other as they get closer to you.

“Boys!” There’s a sudden whistle and you also look up to see a stunning woman with dark brown hair pulling her fingers from her mouth. “You wanna say hi first? You’re being rude.”

The two men turn to you, much more sheepishly, embarrassment covering their features. “I’m Mickey,” the first one says, holding out his hand before realizing you’re not quite in the position to shake it.

“Reuben,” provides the other one.

You give them your name—along with your whole spiel about why you’re here—and open the box of doughnuts for them. “Don’t worry,” you wink. “I got two jelly doughnuts.”

Reuben and Mickey light up, taking the two powdered treats from you hastily as the rest of their colleagues finally make their way over to you. Jake you recognize and he’s flanked by a man slightly taller than him with a cropped buzz cut and jovial eyes. The woman is accompanied by another man whose thick glasses are balancing on his nose. Out of everyone, he seems the kindest—he just gives off that vibe—and he smiles at you politely when he realizes you’re staring at him.

“Bringing in the big guns, I see,” Jake teases, gesturing to the doughnuts Reuben and Mickey are already snacking on. He seems in better spirits than yesterday—or, at the very least, more sure of himself.

You play along, picking up a maple frosted doughnut and offering it to him. “I figured a little bribery never hurt.” You wait for him to take the doughnut before turning to the other three people standing next to him. “Would you guys like any?”

The man behind Jake, raises his hand, stepping forward to grab a sprinkled doughnut from the box. “You clearly did not think this through, because there’s no way I can give an interview with my mouth full,” he jokes before taking a large bite.

“Oh, good point,” Jake points at him and you feel you’re already getting a sense of their dynamic when they fist bump.

“Okay, since clearly all of you were raised in a barn, I’ll be the polite one,” the woman in front of you rolls her eyes, before shooting you a kind smile. “I’m Natasha,” she introduces. “That’s Bob.” She points at the man with glasses. “As you’ve heard, that’s Mickey and Reuben. The smartass over there is Javy.” The smartass in question waves, still eating his doughnut. “And I’m assuming you’ve already met Jake?”

You nod as both she and Bob finally reach over to grab a doughnut. Bob lets out a quiet “thank you” as his fingers wrap around a blueberry one.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” you say honestly.

“Well, it’s nice to meet the woman who’s gonna tell all of San Diego how sexy and heroic I am,” Javy winks at you. “Right?”

Jake scoffs good-naturedly. “Javy please, she’ll be far too distracted watching me.” He shoots you a look that you assume usually leaves women reeling (you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little flustered yourself.) “Just let me know when you want to continue that private interview, sweetheart.”

“Private interview?” Javy whines. “C’mon man, you can’t give me one of these things?”

You snort. “Well, actually, I was hoping to get private interviews from all of you.”

Before anyone else can respond, someone clears their throat from the top of the staircase. “If you’re just gonna be distracting my firefighters, this isn’t going to work.”

You recognize the voice—of course, you recognize the voice—and you force a smile onto your face as Bradley Bradshaw, in all his black t-shirt and firefighter pants glory, descends

 the stairs. Though you’re trying to keep it professional, Natasha does not share that sentiment and rolls her eyes.

“Oh lay off it, Bradshaw. We’re not even doing anything right now.”

“Yeah,” Jake chimes in. “Just grab a doughnut man, we saved you the chocolate frosted one.”

Bradley growls. “I don’t like chocolate frosted doughnuts.” From over his shoulder, Jake mouths “He does!” and you bite back a smile. “And you may not be doing anything right now, but you’re all on call. You shouldn’t be standing around eating snacks.”

“Bradley—” Bob starts, but you wave him quiet, forcing your smile even wider.

“No, he’s right,” you nod politely in Bradley’s direction, closing the box of doughnuts. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have distracted you guys.”

“Your job is to follow us around, not get in the way,” Bradley reminds you—because you’re learning it might actually kill him to be nice to you. “And put those in the fridge or something. I don’t want Goose getting to them.”

You pause, brows furrowing in question. “Goose?”

As if on cue, a large dalmatian suddenly comes bounding down the steps, nearly tripping on his big paws in his haste. Behind you, you hear Mickey whisper something about how “he must have jumped the baby-gate again”. You can hardly react before the dog sets his sights on you, racing over to you with wide, brown eyes and a tongue practically flopping around the side of his mouth.

On instinct you bend down, shifting the doughnut box in one hand and leaving your other free to pet the very excited dog. You miscalculate his force though and when he runs into you, you stumble, the doughnut box wobbling in your hand as you try to steady yourself and pet Goose at the same time.

The box is snatched from your hand right before it can fall to the floor and you look up—fingers still locked in Goose’s fur—to find Bradley glaring at you, the doughnut box now in his possession. “What did I just say?”

“Leave her alone, Bradley. You’ve let him eat way worse than a couple doughnuts.” Reuben comes to your defense, but there seems to be a silent agreement in the air that the firefighters are going to get back to work as they all start making their way up the stairs where you assume the offices and bunks are.

Luckily, Bradley does decide to let it go, moving to shove the doughnuts in the mini-fridge they had set up nearby. He brings his fingers to his mouth and lets out a sharp whistle. “C’mon, Goose.”

The dog doesn’t move from where he’s panting in front of you and—not wanting to start another argument with Bradley—you remove your hands from the dog in hopes he’d be more incentivized to return to his owner.

“Goose.” Bradley calls again, a somewhat confused expression on his face as he pats his leg.

This time the dog plops his butt down on your shoes, looking up at you with Bambi eyes as if urging you to keep petting him.

From behind Bradley there’s a snort and you’re unsure what to do except stand there until Bradley finally rolls his eyes.

“Fine.” He turns around. “Stay there then.”

You wait for Bradley to ascend the stairs and disappear from sight before crouching down and scratching behind both of Goose’s ears. “Thanks for keeping me company,” you whisper. 

You spend most of your time with Mickey and Reuben after that. The two are more than happy to answer your questions, sharing little fun facts with you as they check the firetrucks and do all the other things Mickey likes to call “busy work”. They have plenty of anecdotes - like the time Jake organized a sexy fireman photo shoot or the time a drunk Javy went down the fireman’s pole upside down. Through every story, both men are smiling brightly and you can tell that they genuinely care for the other people working around them.

“I mean, yeah it sucks I’m not seeing my family for the holidays,” Mickey tells you, eyes trained on checking the hose attachments on the truck. “But these guys are kinda like my second family, you know?”

Reuben elbows him good-naturedly. “That was fucking cheesy, dude.” He turns to look at you. “But what about you?”

“Sorry?”

“Well… You’re spending the holidays with us too, right? How do you feel about that?” He questions and, once he points it out, it seems to register to Mickey too and he looks equally invested in your answer.

You shrug, fidgeting with the end of your notebook. “Um, I was kinda expecting it honestly. It’s sorta my thing to work over the holidays, so I was ready for it.”

“You don’t go home?” Mickey furrows his brows.

“Nope,” you force a laugh, desperately hoping to move the conversation on to something else. You’re saved thankfully, when Natasha comes bounding down the steps.

“Guys, we’ve got a car accident on Waters and 1st,” she informs you all and you step out of the way quickly, not wanting to slow them down in the slightest.

Mickey and Reuben just nod, giving you a brief wave goodbye before following after Natasha. You watch them all load up into the truck quickly, wincing slightly when the loud siren starts sounding. They leave impressively fast—a note you make sure to jot down—and once they do, you look for something else to do until they return.

Remembering the doughnuts you brought—and the fact you’ve had yet to have one—you make your way over to the mini-fridge to grab the box. A small smile stretches across your face when you realize that the chocolate frosting one is missing. You discard the thought of grabbing a doughnut, instead reaching for your pen.

Bradley Bradshaw:

Authority kink (maybe)

Likes chocolate frosted doughnuts

Day four and you’re walking in with a smile on your face and a paper bag clenched between your fingers. The day before had proved to be similar to your second day at the station, you followed Jake and Javy around as they did much of the same of what Mickey and Reuben had done the day before. It meant that you also got to watch in on the tour of the fire station that they gave to a small class of children and their teacher. Unsurprisingly, the kids were most excited to meet Goose, but it was clear how much fun they were having with Javy and Jake. 

When you asked why a classroom would be visiting the station over their school break, Javy informed you that they’d scheduled another day for all the kids who were sick on the days that their classes got to visit the station. It was heartwarming to see both Jake and Javy take extra time out of their schedules for these kids and it was definitely going into your article.

You’d caught sight of Bradley a few times that day, but, unsurprisingly, he was doing his best to avoid you. Not that you exactly minded, but you knew you couldn’t write this article without at least one interview with the fire captain and you were determined to do just that.

Bradley doesn’t even look up when you finally find him in his office and drop your somewhat crumpled paper bag on his desk.

“What’s this?” He asks, flipping through more paperwork, like your sudden appearance hardly warrants pausing his work.

You shrug it off, telling yourself it’s highly unlikely that he’ll want to talk to you if you catch an attitude after his first question (granted he already has one, but still!) “A chocolate frosted doughnut.

This catches him and he lets his eyes snap to the bag. “I don’t want it.”

Asshole.

“That’s okay,” you force a wide smile. “I just thought you might, but you don’t have to eat it.”

“Why’d you bring it?” Bradley asks suspiciously and, with the way he’s looking at the bag, you’d think there was a bomb in it.

You let out a breath. Now or never. “Well… I was hoping to get an interview with you.”

For the first time, maybe ever, you see Bradley’s lips twitch upward slightly. “The first one not enough for you?”

A joke! He made a joke!

“Well, it was, but then I realized it made you sound like a tool,” you tease. And the smile drops. Damn it! You open your mouth to amend quickly. “I mean, I figured you might want to say more… about being the fire captain and everything.” You’re gonna have to pull out all the stops for this—including the authority kink.

Bradley studies your face and, again, you want to fidget under his gaze, but you do your best not to. He glances at the clock and then gestures for you to sit. “5 minutes. I have work to do.”

You physically hold back the eye roll and the retort that he must be quite good at knowing what 5 minutes feels like. (Actually, you know for a fact that he probably doesn’t, not with those arms… and those thighs. He could probably go for 12 hours, the bastard.) Shaking off all your thoughts, you sit down in the chair at Bradley’s desk. Goose lifts his head from where it’s resting in his dog bed and trots over to you for head scratches.

Bradley watches the interaction but keeps his mouth shut.

After giving Goose one more scratch for good measure, you shift into work mode, reaching for your pencil and notepad. Deciding to ease your way into everything first, you start off with a fairly simple question. “Is there anything you would want people to know about you?”

Bradley shifts and then shrugs. “Not really. I don’t believe in getting praised for just doing my job. I still don’t even know what the point of all this is,” he gestures to your notepad as if to refer to your whole article.

“Well, I think a lot of people would disagree with you, your job’s pretty heroic,” you tell him honestly, even in the few days you’d been here, you’re able to see that. And you’re able to see how much Bradley has to do with it. “What about your childhood? Did you always want to be a firefighter?”

Bradley visibly stiffens at your words, the papers in his hands crumpling a bit as his fingers tense. “No.”

“No?”

When it’s clear you want at least a little more from him, Bradley shifts in his seat. “I wanted to be a cop.”

That catches you by surprise, your pencil stilling on your notepad. 

“My godfather was one— Well, still is, he’s chief now,” Bradley continues, almost as if you aren’t there. “I spent my whole childhood trying to be just like him and then he pulled my application from the police academy.”

It’s clear that this affected Bradley far more than he’s showing with his nonchalant retelling—if the haunted look in his eyes is anything to go by. And he’s telling you far more than you ever thought he would, far more personal things. The air is uncomfortable after he finishes and you really don’t know what to say, so you just say the first thing to come out.

“Oh, thank god.”

Bradley seems to snap back to the room, his brows furrowing. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, I don’t even want to think about a world where you were given a gun.” The words keep coming out and you know you shouldn’t be saying them, but you genuinely can’t stop yourself. “Probably woulda shot me out of that tree or something.”

Bradley looks genuinely speechless, lips slightly parted as he stares at you in disbelief. “You—” Words fail him until he finally narrows his eyes. “Was that a joke?”

“Yes!” You blurt quickly in a last ditch attempt to save face.

“You are—” Bradley chuckles darkly and it’s very off putting. “You are something else, kitty. And I really don’t think you’re in a position to be judging.” He says it like he knows something you don’t.

You cross your arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He leans forward against his desk, a condescending smile on his face. “You really think people care about shit like this?” He gestures to the station around you. “No, it’s the holidays, and I know a lot of very important things worth writing about over the holidays.” Your face falters and you know that Bradley knows he has you. “Things that, if you were respected in your field, you’d be writing about. But instead you’re here for something no one’s gonna read. You know what that tells me, kitty?”

You swallow. “What does that tell you?”

“That I’m not the only person who finds you incredibly annoying.”

Okay.

Massive asshole.

Godzilla sized asshole.

However two could play at that game. You sit up in your seat, meeting his cocky gaze with a sickeningly sweet smile.  “Are you an arsonist?” 

“Excuse me?” Bradley blinks back in surprise.

“There’ve been studies that show that firefighters with god-complexes could be more likely to become arsonists because they love the thrill and attention. They light the fire, wait for someone to report it, and then they put it out and play hero,” you lean back in your chair with a smug look on your face. “Some actually get sexual gratification from it.” You sniff. “So I think it’s in both of our best interests that you answer me honestly, Mr. Bradshaw, because I can promise you that people would read about a fire captain outed as an arsonist. So could you state that you do not get sexual gratification from putting out fires?” You smile and blink up at him. “For the record.”

How’s that for annoying, asswipe?

Bradley clenches his jaw.

“Oh, would you look at that?” You pretend to gasp, getting up from your chair so you’re finally the one towering over Bradley, and move to step out of his office. “I guess my article will be about your sex life after all!” 

With that, you close the door a little harder than you need to, smoothing down your skirt and tipping your chin up before walking away from Bradley’s office. So your interview hadn’t gone as well as you’d hoped. But, as you spare a quick glance behind you and see him through the window angrily pulling out your doughnut, you get the feeling that anything good you learn about Bradley Bradshaw wouldn’t be anything he’d tell you to your face.

“Thank you, Bob!” You smile kindly as the bespeckled man starts heading back to continue working around the station. 

Now with a notepad full of anecdotes and personalities, you feel a lot better about the state of your article. As you suspected, all of the firefighters were far more forthcoming than Bradley had ever been—and significantly nicer too. Speaking of the disgruntled man, you’d taken his advice and stayed out of his way as much as you could these past couple days. It proved to be a bit difficult because his dog Goose seemed to take special liking to you, which clearly annoyed Bradley to no end. But he has yet to give you some old man lecture or threaten to kick you out again so you’re doing your best to keep it that way.

If this were anything but your job, you’d probably be far less likely to put up with his bullshit. (And even though it’s your job, you know you still make fun of him constantly if given the chance, which is why you’re doing your best to avoid him so that you don’t have to suddenly explain to your publisher why you’ve somehow been banned from the fire station.) You’re sure you’ve gotten off on the wrong foot with him, but you’ve actually never seen him be nice to anyone here. He’s respectful—to a point—and he cares about them, but he’s never nice. The only person you’ve seen him be nice to is Goose. And Goose is a dalmatian.

Looking over your notes with another breath, you decide to see if you can find Natasha for another interview. Out of all the firefighters you’ve met, you’ve found her to be one of the most inspiring. One of the few women in her field, she shared with you briefly just what she’s overcome to get here. Everyone around the station calls her “Phoenix” after an accident in the beginning of her career that only caused her to come back stronger.

That’s how you know that Bradley cares about his firefighters. Reuben told you that he seemed to take Natasha’s accident the hardest—that he takes all of their accidents the hardest. You can see it in the little things Bradley does too, you’re sure if you were allowed to follow them onto scenes you’d see how he always has her in his sights, always accounted for. But it’s also in the waters he wordlessly hands her when they get back to the station and the fact that they always ride in the same truck. How he never stops her from doing her job or acts like she can’t handle it, but just simply cares about her.

It’s Bradley’s job to look after his firefighters—and you know if you pointed that out to him, he’d say it in some almighty, obnoxious way—but he takes it more seriously than you ever expected him to. Natasha isn’t the only firefighter he treats like that. You have a feeling if you called him out on it, he’d deny it, possibly stop altogether. So you don’t. You just silently watch the parts of Bradley Bradshaw that come out when he doesn’t think you’re looking.

Finally making it to the common quarters and small kitchenette, you spot Natasha leaning against one of the counters, taking a bite of a cream cheese bagel.

“Nat!” You call with a wave (she asked you to call her that), heading over to her when she looks up with a smile. “Are you busy?”

She sucks some cream cheese off her thumb. “Not especially. Why?”

“Well, I had a couple more questions, if you were up for it.”

“Oh,” Natasha seems a tad surprised before a grin overtakes her face. “Oh, Jake and Javy are going to hate this.” She laughs.

“Hate what?” Javy catches the end of her sentence, strolling into the kitchen and opening the fridge.

Natasha smirks. “That you and Jake haven’t wooed her enough to be her favorite.”

“I’m hurt.” Javy directs at you with a pout, pulling out a lunch container that definitely has the word “Bob” written on it on a piece of masking tape. “Didn’t you see how upstanding I was, giving those little kids a tour of the station?”

You raise a teasing, unimpressed eyebrow. “You mean when you almost popped a blood vessel trying to stay flexed for their teacher?”

“Ouch! Kitty’s got claws,” Javy wiggles his brows as you and Natasha laugh at him.

You pause, your giggles pattering off as you take in his words. “Wait, what did you call me?”

“Kitty?” Javy seems unbothered, peeling off the lid of Bob’s tupperware and pulling out a white bread sandwich with the crust cut off. “Bradley’s been calling you that since you got here. Since he rescued you from a tree and all that— To be honest, I didn’t know he could make jokes like that.” The explanation is told to you through a mouthful of turkey, cheese, lettuce, and tomato and you try to keep your expression in check.

He rescued you? Is that how he told it? 

You purse your lips before smiling. “And where is Bradley?”

“Unloading one of the trucks, I think.”

You nod, meeting Natasha’s knowing gaze before turning on your heel with a quiet “Excuse me” before you start marching back to the staircase, your anger growing with each step. It wasn’t that you hated the little name Bradley had given to you. Embarrassingly, you almost liked when he called you that. What you didn’t like was why he felt it was appropriate to share this nickname when you weren’t around like it was a joke between him and everyone else and not like it was something between the two of you.

When you reach the last step, you’re practically seething, marching over to Bradley without a care of who might be around him at the current moment.

“Fire Captain Bradley Bradshaw.” You call out loud enough to get his attention.

Bradley turns around—almost surprised—before his expression falls to the one of muted annoyance you’re used to him directing at you. “Can I help you?”

“You see how nice it is when someone calls you by your name?” You continue like he hasn’t spoken. “And not some nickname they use to make fun of you when you aren’t there?”

Bradley’s eyes widen slightly in understanding and, for once, he has the decency to turn around and face you fully. “Look—”

“No, you look, Bradshaw, I am honestly so done with you thinking that you’re better than me because of a narrative that you made up!”

“I made it up?” Bradley narrows his eyes incredulously. “I would understand if your memory was a little shaky if you’d hit your head after a fall or something, but you didn’t because— Oh, wait! I caught you.” He crosses his arms.

“Yeah, and every day since then, I’ve been wishing you didn’t because then you wouldn’t be holding it over my head!” You argue back, before you realize where you are and take a deep, grounding breath.

If you weren’t so angry at him, you might be angry at yourself that you’d let a man get under your skin this quickly, but you weren’t about to stick around to be some kind of low blow comedy routine for a man who had yet to treat you with an ounce of respect since the moment you met him. But honestly, it hurt. You know you aren’t Bradley’s favorite person, but you’ve seen him with everybody else. You know how he thinks of every little thing that could affect them or hurt them in some way and does what he can to avoid it. You don’t know why it hurts so bad to realize that he’s so careless when it comes to you.

You’re just a little over halfway through the week, but you’ve gotten a fair amount of what you need. If you added a few embellishments and wrote like a high schooler trying to meet an essay word count then maybe you could hand something passable to your publisher. It wouldn’t be your best work, but that didn’t matter, because you didn’t want to spend another minute in the company of Bradley Bradshaw.

“Well, congratulations.” You laugh bitterly. “Think of this as my Christmas gift to you because I’m leaving.”

You have every intent to just walk right out of the station and never take a step back in. You wouldn’t even let yourself be dragged here. No, Bradley Bradshaw could rot in hell and you’ll live happily knowing you never have to be around his stupidly groomed mustache and giant muscles ever again.

From behind you, he calls out. “Why would I want a Christmas gift from you? I don’t like Christmas.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” You whirl around, throwing your hands up in the air because you have genuinely never met a man more infuriating. “That’s all you have to say? After all of that, the only thing you’d like to correct is that you’re a giant fucking Scrooge?”

Bradley scoffs. “Scrooge? What is this? The 1840s?”

“I hate that you actually know when A Christmas Carol was published!” 

“And I hate that you’re throwing a tantrum because I called you a name that wasn’t even an insult!” Bradley argues back.

Rage is simmering on your tongue, but you swallow it down in favor of making sure your words come out exactly how you mean them. “You will never understand what it’s like to have to somehow earn the respect of everyone you talk to, okay? You will never understand what it’s like to not even get the chance to prove yourself because a bunch of men have already decided what you are for you. You may think it’s funny to turn me into some sort of joke around your station, but it’s not and I’m done putting up with it.”

You turn around again, finally ready to be done with this man who, for the life of you, you cannot stop arguing with.

“Wait.”

His voice causes you to freeze and, when you turn around this time, Bradley looks as though the fight has finally left him too. “Don’t go,” he tells you. “You… You don’t have to go.”

“Bradley—” You start, but he shakes his head.

“You’re right, I’ve been… unfair. Just finish out the week. Tomorrow’s training day, that would be good for your article right? You can follow me around.” It’s hardly an incentive and he has yet to even say he’s sorry, but you know someone dropping a proverbial sword when you see it.

You let Bradley sit in his awkward silence for a few seconds before you finally let out a soft breath. “Fine.”

The next day, you can tell that Bradley’s doing his best to be on his best behavior. He gives you a polite nod as a greeting and lets you follow after him as he starts setting up for drills and the CPR recertifications. You’re also trying to play nice, you don’t ask any smart ass questions and you spare him all your quips. You simply watch him, taking the occasional note and petting Goose, who’s also been following the two of you around. 

When Bradley calls down all the firefighters to start running through drills, even they seem surprised that the two of you are standing next to each other so peacefully. Bob raises his eyebrows and Mickey literally does a double-take. You just wave at them all politely and then try to stay out of their way.

Oddly, it’s a little boring watching them all climb up and down the fire station stairs, Bradley shouting orders at them as they run through drills. You find yourself doodling on your notepad until they all start moving towards the rescue dolls. (Is that what you call them? You’d have to google that when you get home.)

You’d gotten CPR certified once when you were 15, you were working as a lifeguard over the summer and it was obviously a requirement. It’s been a while since you brushed up on it though, so you do pay attention as the firefighters go through the motions of compressions and breaths. 30 compressions, 2 rescue breaths, with a rate of 100 to 120 compressions per minute. Hopefully it wouldn’t have to be vital knowledge to you, but good to know all the same. 

There weren’t enough practice dolls for every firefighter, so after the first round finishes, Bradley calls for them all to take a quick break.

“Fitz, open one of the doors, will you?”

The newer recruit looks happy that his name was even remembered (even if it was just a nickname) and hastily heads over to the side wall to press a button that would open one of the large garage doors of the station. You watch Bradley watch him, his face neutral until something seems to trigger what almost looks like panic.

“Wait, Fitz, not that one—”

Fitz presses a button on the wall and, instead of the doors opening up like you expect them too, suddenly the sprinklers from the ceiling turn on. You let out a shriek as water starts pouring down onto you, nearly tripping over Goose—who’s bouncing around like this is the best day of his life—looking for cover before you’re soaked through. 

You realize quickly that that’s a useless endeavor as you take in everybody else accepting their fate of getting doused in water and try to decide that it’s okay. You didn’t love this outfit anyway. Instead, you wipe your hair away from your face and try not to shiver too much from the chill of the air. Natasha gestures you over to her and the two of you can’t help but laugh at how soggy the other looks.

“Aright, got it.” 

Finally the water shuts off and you look up to see that Bradley had made it to the other side of the room to fix everything. Fitz is next to him looking drenched and sheepish and you hope Bradley doesn’t give him too hard of a time.

Instead Bradley surveys the room, placing his hands on his hips as he sighs. “Everybody go change.”

The squadron cheers and you can’t help but join in, until you realize that you don’t technically work here and that means you don’t have a spare set of clothes with you. Bradley seems to have accounted for that too though, as he comes over to you with a nudge of his head.

“Follow me.”

And that’s how you end up in a pair of Bradley’s old sweats and a baggy t-shirt with the fire station’s emblem on it.

Thankfully your underwear stayed relatively dry, so you weren’t going entirely commando. But your bra had been beyond saving and it wasn’t lost on you that you were wearing something of Bradley’s against your bare skin. 

The whole sprinkler fiasco seemed to cut the day short, but no one seemed to mind not having to continue drills, if anything, Fitz was a hero in their eyes. With nothing left to do, Bradley gifted everyone the day off and you watched as they all started trickling out of the fire station, hair dripping and smiles wide on their faces. You stay though, for some reason. 

You honestly don’t feel quite ready to leave yet and, with basically everyone gone, you reason that maybe it’s okay to make yourself a bit comfortable. Mickey and Reuben had shown you once where they’d gotten a TV set up for the long nights with not much to do and they’d even brought in a small, comfortable looking couch to add to the whole thing. 

Settling down in the cushions, you try to relax as you browse through the movies and TV shows the station has downloaded. Your lips perk up when you land on Home Alone and you start the movie quickly, setting the volume low even though you’re practically alone.

You think the whole thing would be better with some popcorn, but there’s not too much to complain about and you’re perfectly content watching the antics of Kevin McCallister anyway.

Over the movie, you hear the sound of muted footsteps and then, “What are you still doing here?”

It’s Bradley—of course it’s Bradley—but he doesn’t sound as clipped as he usually does. You roll your head over to look at him with a small smile.

“Watching a movie,” you say as if it isn’t obvious.

“Why haven’t you gone home?” Bradley asks, though it’s not quite as accusing as you’re used to.

You don’t really have an answer so you shrug. “I wanted to watch a movie.”

Bradley doesn’t respond, but he does step inside, wordlessly making his way to the couch and sitting down next to you. It’s quiet and a little awkward, but it’s the nicest Bradley’s ever been to you and you know you’d ruin it if you whipped out your phone now to time him. Instead you do the next best thing and sigh, too tired to inevitably start fighting with Bradley again.

“But I can go,” you tell him, moving to get up.

Bradley stops you. “You don’t have to. I just didn’t know anybody else was here.”

It’s quiet and you start to think that maybe Bradley had really taken to heart how he’d been treating you because he seems almost thoughtful as he sits next to you. Still the silence makes you shift as you try to think of ways to fill it.

“Thanks for the clothes,” you land on.

Bradley shrugs. “Figured they’d be more comfortable than your wet clothes.”

“They are,” you look down. “Actually, what detergent do you use?”

Bradley looks at you strangely. “You ask a lot of weird questions, you know that?” He leans back against the couch.

You laugh. “Comes with the job, I guess.”

The conversation patters off and you look down at your fingers to hide your nerves. You’re not used to having actual, polite conversations with Bradley, at least you knew how to act when you were making fun of him. Now you don’t know where to look or when you should laugh or what you should even say.

“Persil.”

“Huh?” You look up when Bradley speaks.

He turns to look at you. “That’s the detergent I use. Persil.”

“Oh.” You blink. “Um, thanks. I’ll be sure to put that in my article,” you try to joke with a small smile.

Bradley wrinkles his nose. “Why would anyone want to read about that?”

“Well, it’s not like anyone is gonna read it anyway,” you slouch down against the couch cushions and laugh a little. “You were right about that, I guess.”

“I didn’t—” Bradley’s mouth remains open as he's reminded of the harsh things he'd said to you, but no words come out. When a few seconds go by and he still hasn’t spoken, you wonder if your conversation has died for the second time. You and Bradley aren’t very good at this whole being nice to each other thing.

“I’ll read your article” is what finally comes out of Bradley’s mouth and when you look surprised, he nods more resolutely. “Yeah, I didn’t mean— I’ll read your article. When it comes out.”

In this light, he looks almost nervous and you smile softly. “Thanks, Bradley.”

“Sure,” he coughs awkwardly, looking at his watch to avert his gaze. “Are you sure you want to stay here? I mean, wouldn’t you rather be spending time with your family while you can?”

Your smile dims slightly and you give Bradley a knowing look. “Why do you think I’m watching Home Alone?”

Bradley doesn’t seem to follow, but his eyes drift to the screen to watch Kevin in the middle of grocery shopping all by himself and you watch his features still slightly.

“I actually can’t remember the last time I spent the holidays with someone. Isn’t that sad?” You don’t really know why you’re telling him this. Maybe Bradley’s been nice to you long enough that you’ve tricked yourself into thinking he’ll care. Maybe you’re just tired of being by yourself. “I went no contact with my parents a few years ago—and I know it was the best thing for me to do—but, I don’t know, it’s made the holidays a little… rough.” You confide quietly.

You watch Bradley roll his lips between his teeth in thought. His eyes finally leave the TV. “Oh, thank god.” He says finally.

You blink, letting out a surprised laugh. “Sorry?”

“I thought you were watching Home Alone because you liked it,” Bradley explains. “But now I get it, it’s like a ‘woe is me’ thing.”

You realize now that he’s basically flipping your whole cop/gun conversation back onto you, but you can’t even begin to process that because “You don’t like Home Alone?”

“No,” Bradley wrinkles his nose. “It’s all physical comedy. Like, yeah, the bad guys get hurt, is that all there is?”

You turn to face Bradley, jaw dropping. “You can’t be serious,” you tell him. “Are you serious? Home Alone is a classic!”

Bradley just shrugs.

“No.” You grab the remote to restart the movie. “No, I am not sitting by and letting this happen. You are watching this movie and you will like it!”

Bradley snorts in disbelief. “Yeah, and how are you gonna make that happen?”

You don’t really know. You’ve never actually met anyone who didn’t like Home Alone because that would make them an actual crazy person. Maybe Bradley just hasn’t seen it in a while and has forgotten how good it is. Maybe—

“Wait a second, you’re not pretending to not like Home Alone just because I like it, right?” You look at him accusingly.

Bradley rolls his eyes. “Right, because a guy can’t just not like a movie.”

“You totally are! I can’t believe you, you have to be mean just because I like something—”

“Not everything is about you!” Bradley protests.

“This is!”

“No, it isn’t!”

Before you realize it, you and Bradley have moved so close to each other that you can practically feel his angry huffs on your face. You seem to both register this fact at the same time as your cheeks begin to heat and Bradley’s gaze drops to your lips for the briefest of seconds. You should pull away. This is Bradley for crying out loud! You’d rather burn your lips off with acid than kiss him.

It’s unclear who moves first—you probably move at the same time honestly—but you both surge forward before you can think better of it, your lips smashing into Bradley’s. He holds your face in his large hands, frantic but still gentle, and you can’t stop yours from weaving into his still damp hair. 

The feeling of his lips against yours is addictive as is the way that his tongue coaxes into your mouth, swallowing any muffled sounds you let out. Every action reads clearly - he’s thought about this before, maybe a lot. 

Bradley’s hands move from your cheeks, down your sides to your hips. He plays with the hem of your shirt, and you wonder how he feels about the fact that it’s his, before his large hands make their way under it, planting onto bare skin. They’re warm and calloused as he strokes your stomach and tips you back so that you’re laying flat on the small couch.

It’s a bit of a fit for the two of you, but that’s hardly going to stop you now. Bradley’s lips leave yours—and pull a whimper of protest from you—but only so they can latch onto your neck, his teeth sinking into your pulse point. As his tongue soothes the sting, you let your hands crawl under his shirt, running over the curves and divots of his defined muscles. Your nails rake against them gently and Bradley grunts into your skin. It’s such a masculine sound, it would make your thighs clench if he wasn’t between them.

A crash sounds from the television—no doubt Harry or Marv falling for one of Kevin’s traps—and it pulls the two of you apart, the reality of what just happened crashing down on you. You can’t quite meet Bradley’s eye as you take your hands out from under his shirt and he can’t quite meet yours when he pulls his hand out from where it was dangerously close to holding your bare breast.

It’s silent as the two of you catch your breath and, finally, Bradley clears his throat.

“We should—” His voice is husky and his lips look thoroughly kissed. “We should probably get home. We have an early day tomorrow.”

He’s not saying anything about how the two of you were just making out on a couch like horny teenagers, but you decide that you don’t really want to talk about it either, so you nod.

“Okay… I’ll see you tomorrow,” you smile weakly. 

Bradley only mirrors your nod.

You’re in an unusually chipper mood when you enter the station. You greet Natasha gleefully and Jake and Javy even joke that you’re glowing. You decide that you are when you think about it. After a night of good sleep, you’re able to come to terms with the fact that you actually like Bradley Bradshaw. He’s still an asshole and makes it too easy to argue with him, but he can be thoughtful and, weirdly, talking with him—even if you started arguing over Home Alone—had made you feel better despite your holiday situation. 

He wasn’t perfect, but you knew deep down Bradley Bradshaw was good and he was certainly someone you wanted to talk to more—preferably during civil conversations. 

Which is why you’re smiling at everyone as you walk into the station with a bag holding a chocolate frosted doughnut and one goal in mind - asking Bradley on a date. A proper one, where the two of you talk about your favorite things to do over dinner and try to guess which of the people at the tables around you aren’t going to be going on a second date. And maybe a date that involved more of Bradley kissing you senseless… but only if it felt right.

When Bradley finally appears in your vision, you light up, scampering over to him. “Bradley!”

He turns around and almost looks surprised to see you, but schools his expression quickly. “Hey,” his eyes dart down to the bag in your hand.

You swallow your nerves. “Hey.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence and weirdly—in all your time knowing him—things with Bradley have never felt this awkward. You open your mouth to desperately fill it, but it seems he had the same idea.

“I was actually hoping to ask—”

“I was thinking—”

You both stop and you laugh nervously. “You first.”

“Right.” Bradley scratches the back of his neck. “Well, I was thinking and I know today’s your last day at the station.” You’d honestly forgotten about that fact during the whirlwind of everything and your hope rises. Maybe you didn’t have to ask Bradley out on a date because he was already doing it! “Honestly we’re not going to be doing anything interesting today and I wouldn’t want to waste your time with stuff you already have notes for, so if you’d rather just head out and, I don’t know, do other stuff… I don’t know, I just don’t think it really makes sense for you to stay.”

Oh.

Suddenly you’re not so sure you’re glowing anymore. In fact maybe you’re the opposite. Maybe you’re dull. Because Bradley is now pretending that your kiss never happened and he’s even going as far as letting you know that he actually never wants to see you again after. Like kissing you was nothing more than a lapse in his judgment.

You could be mean to him, make fun of him or say something just to spite him, but you know that’s childish. Bradley has every right not to be interested in you romantically. And you certainly know how to take a hint.

“That’s—” You give him a stiff nod. “That’s a good idea. Thanks.” You suddenly remember the bag in your hand and you jerk it out to him. “Here.”

“What’s this?”

You force a smile. “A goodbye gift, I guess.”

That’s all you can say as Bradley takes the bag from you and then you’re walking away. You keep your eyes on your fingers, lost in thought as your feet lead you back to the exit. You know that you should say goodbye to everyone—it’s rude to just leave like this—but you can’t. Even though it’s only been a week, you’ve really come to love everyone at the station and the thought of saying bye to them now feels unbearable. Besides, you’re sure they’ll enjoy the peace and quiet now that you’re no longer aggravating their captain.

Bradley’s right, anyway, you have more than you need for your article and maybe now you could start on it and get it done earlier. It makes more sense than you just hanging around. And that’s exactly how you explained it to your publisher when you walked through the doors of the Union-Tribune a day earlier than you’re supposed to.

“Alright,” he looks at you skeptically. “It better be a damn good article then.”

He walks away once you promise him—scouts honor and all—and Lucy whistles from where she’d been watching the whole thing in the hallway. She strolls over to you with a grin, bumping your hip with hers.

“Back from your field trip?”

“It appears so,” you shrug.

Lucy knows you better than that though. Having become your best friend the minute you first walked through the doors, you and Lucy have always been inseparable, spending a little too much time gossiping when you weren’t working. You genuinely don’t think you could survive without her. 

She raises a brow. “Meet any sexy firefighters?”

“A couple,” you tease. “I’ll give you their numbers.”

“I meant for you, but you know I’ll never say no to that.”

No longer wishing to talk about sexy firefighters and whether they’re interested in you, you quickly change the subject. “How have things been here?”

Lucy rolls her eyes and you know you’ve hit the jackpot conversation topic that will keep anything firefighter related far from your mind. “Mindy’s annoying as always, even worse now that I didn’t have you to glance at when she said something outrageous,” she complains and you laugh. “Oh! And Scott started acting super weird too. He’d just stand in the kitchen area and watch me— He microwaved the same thing, like, 12 times to not look suspicious, but he kept trying to talk to me every time I left my office.”

“And the microwave still worked after?” You joke, it was a fact known all through the office that your kitchen microwave was on its last legs and it certainly didn’t help that everyone loaded the outlet either. 

The two of you reach your office as Lucy replies. “Remarkably. As for Scott, he left me alone after an offhand comment about how much pepper spray I carry. Anyway, I’m going to use the bathroom, but then you are telling me everything about your little fire station visit. Don’t think that I’m just letting that go!”

She doesn’t give you a chance to argue before skipping off to the bathroom and you huff a laugh. You knew she’d know something was up. If only to delay the inevitable, you step into your office, pulling out your notepad to start compiling notes for your article—you wouldn’t need everything you’d written down, so you still have to pick out the best ones.

It’s slightly ironic that after a minute of you flipping through your firefighter notes, the fire alarm goes off. You’re not too hectic with getting up and getting out of the building, you’re pretty sure it’s just a drill even though you’d already had one earlier this month.

It’s not until you hear someone shouting about the microwave and where the fire extinguisher is that you realize that this is real. You scramble up quickly and make your way out of your office. Your coworkers are already forming a line to file out of the building and you can hear your publisher shouting to just leave the fire and call the fire department, but something in your gut feels amiss.

Lucy.

Without even thinking, you rush back towards the bathroom. You wonder if she knows what’s going on. She can definitely hear the alarm, but maybe she was like you in thinking that the whole thing was a drill.

“Lucy?!” You call out as you try to open the bathroom door, but you're met with resistance and it doesn’t budge.

From behind the wood you hear a faint, “It’s stuck!”

Does nothing in this office work?!

“Okay, um, okay,” you try to think, taking a deep breath. “The fire department should be here soon and they can probably break the door down,” you reason. “So I’ll stay here, okay? They’ll be able to hear me better.”

“What! Are you crazy? You can’t stay here!”

“Well, I’m not leaving you!” You argue. “Look, it’s fine. The fire’s contained to the kitchen and it’s still pretty small.” You’re actually not sure of that, but that’s what you’d assume—you also aren’t going to tell Lucy that last part.

“Alright, fine!” You hear Lucy suck in a breath and you try to open the door again. “But promise me you’ll leave the second it looks dangerous.”

You know how fast of a response time the fire department has, but now you’re witnessing it first hand as, a little more than 5 minutes later, you’re hearing sirens. You let out a breath of relief and try to listen for people entering the building.

“Help!” You call out. “We need help over here!”

Nothing.

You call out again, cupping your hands to your mouth to project louder. There’s a rustle of movement and then a bit of a commotion. Someone shouts your name—almost as a question—and then Jake and Javy are rushing over to you.

“What are you doing? You should have evacuated the building already.” Javy looks at you incredulously.

“My friend’s in there,” you explain. “The door won’t open.”

The two share a look and then Jake nods, moving to break down the door as Javy escorts you out of the building. All your coworkers are lined up in the parking lot along with fire trucks and ambulances and you smile at Javy gratefully when he pats your shoulder in comfort, but he appears to be looking behind you, a pinched expression on his face.

You turn around to see what he’s looking at and then someone’s hugging you.

You recognize the scent of smoke and cedar instantly and the large arms that are practically cutting off your air passages. He only hugs you for a couple seconds—and you hug him back—and then pulls away to look at you, checking you quickly for any obvious injuries. You’re not sure what you’re expecting him to say, but you don’t expect him to be so angry.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Bradley yells. You blink. “Are you insane?! Because I’m trying to understand why the hell you would stay in a building when there’s a fire!”

“My friend was still in there—” You try to explain.

“Yeah? Then we would have gotten her out!” Bradley counters. “Do you know how reckless you were being?”

“I—”

“No, I really don’t want to hear it! I mean what were you thinking?!”

“Bradley,” you try to calm him down. “I’m fine. I’m okay.”

He doesn’t seem to be listening, words spewing out of his mouth in rapid succession. “What if the fire had spread, huh? Did you even have an exit plan that wasn’t the front door? You could have trapped yourself in there all because you were too fucking reckless to just tell one of us where your friend was when we arrived on the scene!”

Truthfully, you hadn’t thought of that and you feel a little stupid. Maybe you hadn’t had the best plan and it was never your intention to make anybody worry about you. You open your mouth to apologize. “Bradley, I’m—”

“Just because you have nobody to come home to doesn’t mean you can just go on fucking suicide missions, because some of us have to fill out the paperwork!”

His words ring in the air and Javy ducks his head quickly to pretend like he isn’t listening. You're speechless, trying to stop the tears stinging at your eyes as you take in what Bradley said. You know you hadn’t exactly told him about your family in confidence, but you didn’t expect him to just use it against you so quickly. And paperwork? You know Bradley didn’t like you but is that all he saw you as?

Bradley lets out an angry sniff, turning his head like he can’t even look at you before directing his attention to Javy. “Just take her to the EMTs to get checked out.”

Bradley doesn’t talk to you again after that. The firefighters pack up and leave, and everyone goes home, and Bradley doesn’t reach out once. As you suspected, the fire wasn’t that damaging—only being the catalyst for the kitchen’s much needed remodel—and it was safe to go back to work a couple days after. Bradley never attempted to contact you—even when the rest of his squadron came to visit you with a little goody basket—and you spent the time you weren't at work eating ice cream, watching break up movies, and crying.

It was pathetic. But maybe so were you. 

“The hell is this?”

You hardly look up when a newspaper is thrown carelessly on your desk. Turning away from your computer boredly, you cross your arms, raising your gaze to meet Bradley’s cold eyes.

“Well, if I’d have to guess, I’d say a newspaper.”

Bradley scoffs, grabbing the newspaper again and holding it closer to him as he reads aloud the article it contains. “Then there’s Fire Captain Bradley Bradshaw, always followed by his co-captain, a black and white dalmatian affectionately named Goose. Bradley Bradshaw does more for his community in a day than most people do in a lifetime. In fact, I had to stop keeping count of every chivalrous act he completed by day two because I knew that would make this article far too long—” His eyes snap up to you again, though you both know that there are paragraphs more singing the same praises. “Why did you write this?”

You sniff, crossing your legs to slightly settle your nerves, with a light clear of your throat. “Contrary to what you think of me, I am competent in my job, Bradley.”

“You have done nothing but make fun of me and get in my way since the day we met, and I know I haven’t been friendly to you either,” Bradley corrects, taking a step farther into your office. “So why did you write this? Did you want me to feel bad or something? Like this makes up for the past week because—”

Not liking the way he’s towering over you, you spring up from your chair, matching his body language. “I wrote it because you’re a good firefighter, Bradley! And that was my job - to write about how good of a firefighter you are. Not about how you can’t fucking smile to save your life, or how you need to control everything otherwise you’ll throw a fit like a child, or how you somehow don’t like the movie Home Alone— Who doesn’t like Home Alone, Bradley?! You are the person who decided that I’m some incompetent airhead. And I’m sorry that me actually being able to do my job surprised you so much that you marched all the way down here, but if that’s all you came here for, then why don’t you just leave?”

The air is tense once you finish, so silent you could hear the slight whirring sound of your diffuser puffing the light scent of cinnamon into your office. You catch your breath slightly, wrapping your arms around yourself defensively. Suddenly, you feel vulnerable in your work skirt and blouse, swallowing thickly as tears prick your vision. You don’t want to cry right now.

Bradley only stares at you, something unreadable in his eyes. “I don’t think you’re an incompetent airhead.” He says finally.

You let out a watery scoff, letting your eyes dart to the ceiling as you feel more tears well up. “Yes, you do.”

“No I don’t,” he repeats.

“Really? You’ve done practically everything but call me that to my face—”

“Do you have to argue with me every time? Why can’t you—” Bradley stops himself, shoulders relaxing as his features soften. “Look, I’m sorry.”

“What?”

Bradley swallows. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” You shake your head in disbelief, if only to hide the way your tears are starting to fall. “Sorry for what, Bradley? That you’ve treated me like a chore since the moment you met me? Sorry that you kissed me? Or sorry that I confided in you—that I trusted you—and you threw it in my face?” Bradley opens his mouth, but you continue. “Look, I know you didn’t like me, okay? You made that abundantly clear. And I know that I wasn’t trying to be very likable either—why would I? I didn’t even like you. But then we got to know each other and I thought maybe you weren’t so bad. I thought…” You could almost laugh at how stupid you feel. “God, I thought you could actually be nice sometimes, and caring, and sweet. And— And then you kissed me and I realized that I really like you. And I thought that maybe you liked me too, despite everything, but then you just went on like nothing ever happened. You— You made me feel so stupid. And now you’re in my office, causing a scene, because you still think that it’s impossible that I could ever be nice to you.” You wipe your cheeks hastily, trying to compose yourself as more tears roll down your cheeks. “I know you don’t like me. But… But, god Bradley, was I really that—” Your lip wobbles and your voice cracks and you hate yourself for it. “Was I really that awful?”

The room falls to silence and Bradley just looks at you with an unreadable expression on his face. Honestly it makes you want to scream, that he thinks—after everything—he has any right to barge in here and accuse you of playing games. If you were closer, you might try to punch his stupid, sculpted chest, but you don’t—you doubt he’d even feel it anyway.

You sniffle and it seems to jump start the room, or at least Bradley, as he jerks up suddenly and, before you know it, he’s grabbing your arm and pulling you into his chest. You fight back, not wanting to admit that you find comfort in the familiar scent of cedar and smoke, trying to push him away, but you’re no match for his strength and he only pulls you closer with more determination.

“Let go of me!”

“I’m sorry,” Bradley says again and he sounds so guilty that it causes you to freeze. “I’m sorry that I treated you like a chore. I’m sorry that I didn’t do more after we kissed. I’m sorry that I said those things to you… I’m sorry that I made you feel like you were awful.” His arms are wrapped around your neck, his cheek nestled against the top of your head. 

You’re not quite hugging him back, your arms trapped between your chest and his, but you’ve stopped trying to fight his hold.

Bradley continues. “I know I went about this all wrong, I know that. And, if I could, I promise you that I would have done a lot of things differently. You just don’t understand—” He sucks in a breath, his biceps tensing around you. “You don’t understand what it was like to show up on the scene and realize you weren’t there. I’m supposed to be in charge, I’m supposed to keep a cool head and tell everyone what to do, it’s my responsibility to stay calm in any situation. But when I realized you were still inside? I couldn’t even think. Jake had to physically stop me from just running into that building by myself.”

Your eyes—which had been closed in a weak attempt to stop the tears—open in surprise at his words. No one had told you that. Had Bradley really been that shaken up? 

“I shouldn’t have said what I said to you, I didn’t mean it and it wasn’t okay.I was just— I was just scared. I was scared because I thought for a minute that I hadn’t been able to protect you. And I was scared because I haven’t felt that fear of not protecting someone in a long time. I wasn’t mad at you—I was never mad at you—but I just didn’t know what to do. I should never have said that though. I’m sorry.”

Bradley lets out a breath as he finishes and, for a moment, neither of you move. You swallow thickly, taking in all of his words before tentatively wrapping your arms around Bradley’s middle. He relaxes at your touch, burying deeper into your hair. 

“Why didn’t you just come here and say that?” You finally ask him weakly.

Bradley lets out a quiet chuckle. “Honestly, I thought that I’d already fucked everything up. But then I read your article, fully expecting you to drag me to filth, and you didn’t. Instead you talked about me like I was some kind of superhero and… and I guess it just made me feel worse about everything.”

You nod your head in understanding slowly. “You’re an idiot.”

You feel Bradley laugh against you. “I know,” he agrees. “And I’m sorry,” he repeats. “For everything.”

“Everything?” You look up at him.

“Well…” Bradley trails off, head dipping so that his nose is brushing yours. “Maybe not everything. There is one thing I’d like to do again.”

And then he’s kissing you sweetly and letting his arms untangle so that his hands can land on your hips. You lean into him, without a doubt in your mind that he’d ever not be able to support you, humming appreciatively when he deepens the kiss. 

It’s only when he murmurs your name that you pull away with a wrinkled nose. “Why are you calling me that?”

“You said you didn’t like being called ‘kitty’.” Bradley looks equally confused.

“Well… I don’t mind when you call me it,” you mumble bashfully before looking up. “As long as it’s not to make fun of me!”

Bradley chuckles, his hand moving to your ass to give it a squeeze. “Oh, it was never to make fun of you, kitty, believe me. You know, Cat Woman was my celebrity crush growing up. You don’t wanna know the things I imagined—”

“Okay, I get it,” you laugh. “You can have your kitty privileges back, Fire Captain Bradley Bradshaw.”

Bradley growls, his hands moving to your thighs, prompting you to jump as he steps forward to pin you against the wall. “You don’t know what it does to me when you call me that.”

“I told you you have an authority kink,” you tease.

“Yeah?” Bradley smirks, and then the hairs of his mustache are brushing your ear. “Why don’t we test that?”

You know you should worry about having sex in your place of work first and foremost, but you actually can’t help but worry about the fact that Bradley is still supporting all your weight as he holds you up against the wall.

“Like this? You’ll get tired, Bradley.”

He shoots you a look. “Did you forget what my job is? I could probably do 5 rounds of this, kitty, and still be able to go for a run after.”

At the mental image you can’t help but let out an exaggerated moan. “That is so hot.” Bradley grins, but before he can respond, you hold your finger to his lips. “But, I also like my job and would rather not get caught having sex— No matter how good it is.”

“Fair enough,” Bradley concedes. “But I did almost get to second base at my job, so if we want to keep it even…”

You glance over Bradley’s broad shoulder to make sure the door is firmly shut—you know you should go lock it but that would mean parting from Bradley and you don’t want to do that. “I guess that’s fair. You ready to hold the best boobs of your life, Bradshaw?”

Bradley laughs. “Oh, I’m ready, kitty.”

When you finally leave your office, Lucy’s shooting you a look like she expects a thorough debriefing as soon as you get home and also like she could maybe hear the two of you through the walls, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Not when you're holding hands with Bradley and talking about your holiday plans. Your shared holiday plans.

“I’m gonna get you A Christmas Carol and a bundle of all the Home Alone movies,” you tell him.

Bradley glares at you playfully. “You’re not supposed to tell someone what you’re getting them for Christmas.”

“How would you know, Scrooge?”

Bradley huffs a laugh, giving you an “are you serious” look.

“I’d throw in a matchbox too,” you continue. “But I think my service to the community will be sexually gratifying you enough so that you don’t have to keep committing arson—”

Your words cut off when Bradley swoops down to kiss you firmly. He doesn’t pull away until you're dazed and he nods smugly.

“That’s better.”

You could argue with him, but instead you grab his collar and yank him down to kiss you again. Because that’s a much better alternative to get Bradley to shut his massive pie hole and you’re sure he feels the same way.

join my Bradley Bradshaw taglist here or follow my library @jupitercometgold

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! thank you for reading!

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#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw imagines #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster imagine #rooster imagines #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster fanfiction #rooster fic #top gun maverick imagines #top gun maverick fanfiction #x reader #the christmas fics

[randomtacoscry]

(warning: the volume is pretty high so put your device on like 2)

#i have been wanting to post more of my edits so…. #merry christmas (and happy holidays to those who don’t celebrate) #hangster #top gun maverick #sereshaw #hangman x rooster #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun #top gun edit #edits #my edit

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Hey my family out the Christmas decorations up today and it made me think of a cute little request for roosters brood? Like one where the kids tell the squad that they say mommy kissing Santa thought it would just be funny and cute 🥰

Aww that is super cute! I’m totally getting into the holiday spirit despite it being my busiest season, work-wise 😫 Hope you like this little drabble which may or may not have somehow turned into a Hannix thing.. I don't even know haha I've just been in a Jake mood lately 😅

The Secret

Rooster x Wife!Reader

Summary: One of your children confides in Hangman after he sees you locking lips with Ol' Saint Nick.

CW: just a tiny drabble, fluff, Christmas, kids, hints of Hannix

WC: 400+

“Guess what?” you hear your son say excitedly as he pulls on Jake’s pantleg while the latter is hanging a string of lights above your window.

“Chicken butt,” Jake responds without looking down.

“No!” Your son cackles. “I have a secret!”

Jake glances at him with a smirk. “Let me guess,” he says. “You’re not planning on keeping it.”

“Keeping what?” the boy asks in confusion.

Jake’s grin widens and he steps down from the stool to sit on it instead. He leans forward and gives your son his undivided attention. “Alright, go ahead.”

Your son brings his face to Jake’s ear and starts saying something when Jake jerks away from him. “Buddy!” he exclaims. “When you’re talking into my ear, whisper. You’re gonna burst my damn eardrum.”

“Bagman!” Phoenix tosses a garland at his back. “Language.”

“Phoenix!” he responds, glancing over his shoulder at her. “Can you save the violence for when we’re alone?”

Natasha’s eyes widen and her mouth curves into an outraged grin. She goes back to her poinsettia arrangement in silence.

Jake returns his attention to your son, who starts whispering feverishly into his ear.

“Oh, really?” Jake says, his mouth stretching into a wide smirk. He glances up at you with a roguish smile.

“You can’t tell daddy,” your son warns.

Jake nods, still watching you. “I agree.”

…

“What was that about?” you ask Jake later that evening after Bradley goes to put the kids to bed.

Jake turns to you with a laugh. “Apparently, you’re on the naughty list.”

“What?”

“Little Pete –”

“It was Nick,” Natasha interrupts Jake, rolling her eyes.

“Whatever, they’re practically the same person.” Jake waves his hand. “Little Nick saw mommy kissing Santa Clause.”

You clap a hand over your mouth, gasping. “Oh no!”

“What happened?” Bradley asks, coming down the stairs.

“Bradley was trying on the new Santa costume he bought,” you say with a slight whine. “I can’t believe they saw us!”

“I don’t know what’s worse,” Natasha muses. “Finding out that Santa isn’t real or thinking that your mom’s having an affair with old Saint Nick.”

You cringe. “Both are terrible!”

Bradley makes a face. “Someone saw us?”

Jake nods. “Yeah, Pete –”

“Nick,” Natasha corrects him again.

Jake sighs in exasperation. “How can you even tell them apart?”

Natasha shrugs. “Pete is shorter.”

Bradley chuckles, taking you by the waist and kissing your cheek. “Don’t worry, darling,” he mutters. “We’ll just tell the kids that Santa kisses everybody.”

Jake glances at the two of you sourly and then reaches over to take Natasha by the arm. He pulls her toward him possessively. “As long as Santa doesn’t demonstrate it,” he comments with a grimace.

Rooster Tag List:

Please feel free to let me know if you no longer wish to be tagged in my Rooster fics <3 Sorry if I've missed anyone who has asked to be tagged!

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#Bradley Bradshaw #jake seresin #rooster #top gun #hangman #miles teller #glen powell #bradley bradshaw fluff #jake seresin fluff #bradley bradshaw drabble #rooster drabble #bradley bradshaw imagine #jake seresin imagine #top gun drabble #christmas #bradley bradshaw x reader #jake seresin drabble #hannix #hangman drabble #rooster imagine

[killthewhisperingart]

Baby It's Cold Outside

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Word Count: 1,208

Summary: For the first few years of you and Bradley's relationship, a mission would pull him away right as the air started to chill. This typically would lead to you spending Christmas alone; not that you minded that is. But now it's the first Christmas you can spend together, and Bradley insists on making it as good as he possibly can.

This is a part of @sailor-aviator 's Christmas Writing Challenge, using the prompt "Eggnog"

Warning(s): Fluff and hints of Angst

I am an 18+ blog.

A/N: This is my first writing challenge

It was you and Bradley's first Christmas together. You had been dating for a few years, but every year he was conveniently placed on a mission during the holidays. You had never truly enjoyed the holidays regardless, and the two of you would celebrate a different way when he finally got home. In fact, it wasn't specific to the end of the year holidays. There were times when Valentines Day was celebrated two months later, birthdays celebrated six weeks in advance.

Knowing this was the first time the two of you would be celebrating Christmas together on the day, Bradley was excited. The house was decorated, the scent of cinnamon wafting through the air, only interrupted by the smell of the pine tree he had bought the day after Thanksgiving. A wreath hung on the door, and lights were perfectly placed on the outside of the house. You barely did anything, he insisted you relax.

Though, he did start to run into some issues. Issues you were absolutely not allowed to help with. First, the lights he had pulled from the attic, were duds, which he did not know until after he hung them on the Christmas tree. One trip to the store later, he comes home and drops an entire box of ornaments. It seemed like every venture, had a surprise for Bradley.

So now you're here, sitting atop the counter as Bradley stands in front of the stove. His phone is open to a webpage explaining an eggnog recipe, while your laptop is sitting to the side with a YouTube video of someone making eggnog. The ingredients are scattered across the counter, a bottle of rum half empty, and a carton of eggs with several cracked shells still remaining.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" You ask, peaking over at the mess in front of him. "That's... a lot of rum."

"Yes." He insists, turning to look at you, brows furrowed. "Don't you trust your man?"

"I trust my man to fly planes," You pull your lip up and raise an eyebrow at the thick concoction in front of him. "You don't even like eggnog, you can throw in the towel whenever you want."

"No." He rolls his eyes dramatically, tossing a sprinkle of nutmeg into the liquid.

It's not that you didn't trust Bradley in the kitchen. He had been living by himself for years and knew how to cook a decent meal long before you entered his life. Hell, you preferred him in the kitchen rather than yourself a majority of the time. But as you looked at the boiling pot, you started to question his abilities.

"See?" He turns the burner off, motioning towards the pot. "Now it just has to..." He leans down to squint at the phone, then turns with a smile. "Refrigerate overnight." He grins wide, eyes closed as he raises his arms, clearly expecting praise.

"Mmhm," You hop off the counter, kissing his cheek, and as his eyes open widely you're already standing over the stove. "Maybe I judged you too harshly-"

"You did." He hums.

"But, we won't really know until tomorrow." You spin around to look at him.

Christmas Day hit like a train. You slid out of bed earlier than what was typical for you, placing a soft kiss to Bradley's cheek before going about your morning routine. Coffee was replaced with a mug of hot cocoa as you tucked your legs beneath you on the couch, making sure you were the first to message, "Merry Christmas!" in your family's group chat.

You sigh, adjusting the throw blanket over yourself as a chill runs through your home. Your hands are warm as they're wrapped around your mug, the sound of Frank Sinatra echoing from the record player.

"Merry Christmas,"

You turn to look over your shoulder at Bradley as he comes from the direction of the kitchen, a mug in each hand. His hair is untamed and his sweatpants hanging low on his hips, as if he rolled out of bed to immediately search for you.

"Merry Christmas honey." You whisper back, leaning into the kiss he plants on your cheek. You put your hot cocoa on the coffee table, immediately accepting the mug of eggnog he deposits into your fingers. He sits close to you, moving your legs to sit atop his thighs. You clink your mugs, before both taking a sip of the homemade eggnog.

The liquid burns your tongue and feels like razors down your throat as you swallow. You try to hide your cringe as your nose scrunches, delivering Bradley a half baked smile. He is worse at hiding his distaste, immediately coughing, and spitting it back into the mug.

"It's good!" You admonish, chuckling as he wipes his hand from his moustache to his chin.

"Honey no it is not!" He scrunches his face, setting the mug on the table, forcefully taking yours and placing it next to his.

"No, baby it's the best eggnog I've ever had," You giggle, scooting closer, kissing his cheek.

"You're just saying that," He looks up at you through his eyelashes. His eyes shine, reflecting the light from the Christmas tree, his eyebrows are pinched slightly. "I'm sorry."

"For the eggnog?" You scoff with a chuckle, kissing his cheek. "I don't even like eggnog that much, it doesn't matter."

"It's not the eggnog." He sighs, leaning his head against your shoulder. "It's the lights, the ornaments, the ice on the porch-"

"Where is all of this coming from?" You interrupt softly, running a hand through his hair.

"It's our first Christmas." He reminds you, as if this makes everything obvious. You stare blankly at him for a moment, eyebrows knitted together as you silently ask for him to continue his thought. "And I keep ruining it."

"What?" You furrow your eyebrows, not understanding where this came from. "How are you ruining it?"

"I keep messing up."

You exhale, pulling him closer.

"I don't think you're ruining anything."

"Baby, I keep-"

"Bradley." You admonish, he lifts his head to look at you. "Do you know what I've done in these past few years, during Christmas?" He slowly shakes his head. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" He repeats incredulously.

"I haven't done a damn thing for Christmas since before we were even together." You admit, a bit sheepish. "It never felt right, to celebrate without you. So I never decorated, all I ever did was call my family. And I let you believe that I was just really quick at putting the decorations away."

"Honey-"

"I say this, not to make you feel bad, but," You exhale. "Honey. This is the best Christmas I've had in years. Because you're here." You hold his jaw in your hands, smiling as you stare into his warm eyes. His eyes flutter close, his lashes against his warm skin as you lean in, kissing him softly. "You have made this the best Christmas ever, because you are with me."

"Can't imagine being anywhere else..." He whispers against your cheek, his hot breath tickling your skin. "I miss you when I'm gone, and my mind is filled with you when I fly."

"I'm glad you're here." You smile.

"Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Bradley."

#writing #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun x reader #sailor aviators christmas writing challenge #writing challenge #bradley bradshaw fluff

[missathlete31]

Random Hangman Story Idea of the Day-

hopefully an actual writer takes over this story and writes it. Please someone- take it!

Jake giving up his Christmas leave to Bob because he finds out Bob’s sister just welcomed a new baby and he knows how much the WSO wants to be home for the holidays. So Hangman goes to Admiral Simpson and requests to give his leave away anonymously. When Cyclone calls Floyd in to tell him, Bob is so happy to get to see his family, he doesn’t think about who could have given him this gift and just heads out to pack.

The Friday before Christmas, as everyone who has the time off leaves, those stuck in Miramar start making their own plans. Bradley and Phoenix are about to head out for some last minute shopping before they begin their holidays at Mav and Ice's home, when they see a light on in Jake’s apartment. They head up to investigate, shocked when the cocky pilot answers the door, expecting him to be halfway to Texas at this point.

Natasha realizes pretty quickly how Bob was able to make it home and asks Jake about it. The blond explains how he didn't need to go home, his parents wouldn't want him there, and soon he is being invited by the two other aviators to join their festivities. Hangman declines, convinced it was a pity invite and that no one actually wants him there. Bradley and Nat beg him to reconsider but head out when it's clear their teammate isn't going to change his mind.

On Saturday, December 23rd, Jake runs around the mostly deserted Top Gun base with his air pods in. He’s about to start his fourth lap when someone grabs his shoulder- it’s Maverick, looking just as surprised as Jake is to see him there. The two chat amicably for a bit when Pete brings up Christmas. Assuming this is his Captains way of trying to see if Hangman is going to crash their family dinner, Jake explains that while he appreciates the offer he doesn't want to impose, especially after such an emotional few months for Mav and his family (reconnecting with Bradley, Ice's cancer battles). Maverick tells Jake that there is nothing they wouldn't love more than if the blond would join them, even joking about how low key the whole event will be since Ice used to do the seven fishes on Christmas Eve and the big Christmas Ham and both Pete and Bradley are hopeless in the kitchen. Jake still seems unsure, to which Mav asks him to think about it and leaves him be.

All this leads to Jake Hangman Seresin arriving at Pete and Tom's house with a handful of groceries and presents on Christmas Eve morning, insisting on cooking to earn his place at the table. Of course his captain informs him he is meant to be a guest, but everybody stops fighting it as seven courses of delicious seafood find it's way to the dinner table. The group spends the night eating, drinking, watching Christmas movies and just spending fun time together, Jake having the best holiday he can ever remember. And as they all bid each other goodnight and head off to their different guest rooms, Hangman can't help but thank his hosts for having him. Tom and Pete just smile at the young man they are ready to adopt and tell him it's their pleasure, ushering the pilot off to bed so they can place the numerous wrapped presents they purchased for Jake under their tree, excited to see his reaction the next morning.

When that reaction ends up being tears for finally finding the family he always dreamed of Jake will find himself subjected to a lot of hugs on Christmas morning.

And yes, Brisket might be one of the presents waiting for Jake under the tree 🥰

#top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #natasha phoenix trace #top gun hangman #top gun: maverick #dagger squad #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #icemav #top gun #christmas thoughts #this is how I am saying stories now because I can't write #story thoughts #maverick x iceman #brisket powell #christmas story #a top gun Christmas

[its-the-pilot]

If December Never Ends | One-Shot

An early Christmas gift for y'all! Here's my entry for "Midnight Mass" in @sailor-aviator's Christmas Writing Challenge! Kinda fell in love with these two, so let me know if you want to see more of them!

Summary: Bradley joins you and your family for midnight Mass.

Warnings: religious inaccuracies

Length: 2.3k words

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Female Reader

Masterlist

Christmas with your family was always a big event. Everyone came from all over to your parents’ house in Norfolk and spent the holiday together. Nearly forty-eight hours of uninterrupted family time. There was little sleep involved as there were people playing music and games all night long, so if you could find a quiet place to take a nap, you were lucky. 

That’s why you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face when you saw your boyfriend of eleven months, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, dozing in one of the plush chairs in your father’s study. Your three year old niece was tucked into his side while she drew in the princess coloring book you had gotten her, his arm wrapped protectively around her and a purple crayon dangling from his fingers. Pulling out your phone, you snapped a quick picture, the sight melting your heart. 

You knew the day had to have been overwhelming for Bradley. Hell, it was your family and it was overwhelming for you. Your two older brothers, their wives and children, your aunts and uncles from both sides and some of your cousins… twenty people, even in a house as large as your parents’, was nothing short of chaotic. You were shocked he even agreed to come, since he was used to spending the holidays alone on base.

Stepping into the room, the click of your heels on the wooden floor drew the attention of your niece Lyla, despite your attempts to be as quiet as possible. She waved with a smile, then put her chubby finger to her lips, a signal for you to be quiet. “Unka Roo sleepin’,” she whispered, before going back to coloring. 

“I see that,” you whispered back, pressing a kiss to her unruly curls. “You like cuddling with your Uncle Roo?”

The little girl nodded, her tongue poking out of her mouth a bit as she focused on coloring. “He a warm blankie.”

She shifted, snuggling closer to him, and the slight movement was enough to rouse him, his muscled arm tightening around her as though she was going to fall. “You okay, doll?” He asked, his voice thick with sleep and his eyes barely open. 

You chose to remain silent, watching the heartwarming interaction. Seeing him with your niece lit a fire in your belly unlike anything you had ever felt, the thought of him with children of his own and what that would be like was impossible to ignore. 

“Mmhm!” Lyla nodded, holding up her picture for him to see. “All done!”

Bradley ran his free hand over his face and forced his eyes open further, looking at the presented coloring page. “Wow, it's beautiful,” he grinned, kissing her hair before looking up, finally noticing that you were in the room. “Hey, Tink.”

“Hey yourself, handsome. Have a good nap?” You asked, watching as he helped Lyla out of the chair when she started trying to get up, saying something about going to show her parents the picture she colored. 

Once she was out of the room, Bradley stretched his arms above his head, hoping to rid himself of the last vestiges of sleep. “Must have,” he said, sitting back and patting his knee for you to come join him. “How long was I out?”

You moved closer and sat on his lap, careful not to wrinkle his dark gray slacks too much. His matching jacket had been discarded on a chair across the room earlier in the night, leaving him wearing a white dress shirt that had the top button undone and the sleeves rolled up, showcasing his well muscled forearms. His arm wrapped around your waist effortlessly, his thumb brushing over the skin exposed by the open back of your green party dress. 

“An hour, at least,” you replied, moving your hand to the back of his neck, your nails running through the short hair there. You had been helping your mother and sister in laws clean up after dinner, so you didn't know for sure. 

Bradley nodded, leaning forward just enough to kiss your shoulder. “Lyla was getting a little cranky, I think there was too much going on with all the kids running around after dinner, so I brought her in here to relax. I hope that's okay.”

“More than okay,” you reassured him. “I'm sure Tim was thrilled for the break, Uncle Roo.”

His cheeks turned pink at the term of endearment. “I think she's used to calling everyone ‘uncle’,” he explained. It made sense, aside from her father and grandfather, every other adult man in her life was an uncle. “And she was having a hard time with Bradley, so I figured she could call me Rooster.”

You smiled, leaning in to kiss him tenderly before pulling back to meet his hazel eyes. “So long as you're okay with it. I don't want you to feel pressured.”

“I like it, actually. I've always wanted to be an uncle. Hard with no siblings though,” he said, his voice laced with a hint of sadness. 

Your left hand lifted to rest on his jaw, stroking over his stubble with your thumb. “My brothers might give you shit, but they love you, and you know my parents adore you. Lyla clearly prefers you to anyone else, and the other kids love when you roughhouse with them. I'd say you're pretty welcome in this family, Bradley.”

He nodded, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. You’d always had a large family, so you couldn't imagine what it was like for him to be an orphan. He had told you the story before, his father died when he was a toddler, and his mother passed from cancer as a teen. He went to live with Maverick, his godfather, who betrayed his trust and prevented him from going to the Naval Academy. They hadn't spoken in years, leaving him with nothing but the Navy. 

Until he met you. 

To hear him tell it, your blind date set up on New Year’s Eve the previous year was a miracle in and of itself. You remembered it more based on the hangover you had the next day, so you took his word for it. 

Since then, though, despite a deployment and a couple missions, you were happy together. Nothing was perfect, of course, but you never expected it to be. 

You studied him carefully for a moment, and when he didn't reply, you rested your head against his shoulder, letting your hand slip from his jaw to rest against his chest, his heartbeat strong under your fingertips. “Bradley, I--”

The sound of your father’s booming voice interrupted you as he called for everyone to get ready for Mass. You knew Bradley wasn't religious, and you had told him he didn't have to participate, but it was a family tradition of yours to go to midnight Mass at the local church every Christmas.

“You should come with us, you might enjoy yourself,” you whispered, lifting your head from his shoulder to kiss him gently.

“I don't know anything about religion,” he pointed out, his arms holding you close as you perched on his lap. 

Shaking your head, you smiled and continued to run your fingers through the short hairs at the back of his neck, soothing him. “That's the beauty of it, you don't have to.”

With a pat to his chest, you stood, holding your hand out to him. His eyes locked with yours for a moment, unsure, before he finally accepted your hand and stood himself. You took the liberty of buttoning his open button while he unrolled his sleeves, helping him into his suit jacket after he had done so. 

“You do clean up nicely, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” you grinned, kissing him once more. 

“So do you, Tinkerbell,” he said, twirling you in a circle, making your skirt flare around your legs. He caught you in his arms before dipping you backward, drawing a giggle from you. “Should we go?”

You nodded as he stood you back on your own two feet, leading him out to the front hall where there was a bustle of energy as everyone put their coats on to brave the cold. Bradley helped you into your parka, making sure it was buttoned up before slipping his own heavy coat on. 

Wrapping his arm around your shoulders, he pressed a kiss to your temple and smiled. “Ready to go?” he asked, motioning toward the door with a tip of his head. 

“I am.” You snuggled into his side and allowed him to lead you out to his Bronco that you had driven from Virginia Beach. Once you were both inside, he started the engine and followed the caravan of vehicles leaving your house for the church. 

Sacred Heart was the church you had attended with your family for as long as you could remember. You and your brothers had been confirmed there, and while none of you were particularly religious anymore, you still attended midnight Mass with your devout parents every year for Christmas. 

You usually sat in the back, since you were such a large group, and with small children it was easier to duck out if they got too loud and interrupted the service. This year was no different, with you and Bradley taking a seat in the last row with your brothers and their families. 

Almost as if on cue, as soon as the service started, Lyla started making a fuss. She hadn’t napped earlier in the day like your brother Tim had hoped she would, and now that it was midnight, she was beyond tired. Her older brother Brenden tried to calm her down, but it only caused her to get louder, trying to squirm out of her mother’s arms. Her efforts doubled when she saw you and Bradley sitting at the end of the pew, reaching out for him. 

“Unka Roo! Unka Rooooo!” she cried, tears falling down her pink cheeks as she got more frustrated. 

Bradley peeked around you to see Lyla distressed and frowned. Without hesitation, he stood and moved around the back of the pew, crouching down behind Tim and his wife, Sarah. “I can take her, maybe she’ll stop?” he whispered, smiling when he saw the three year old already calming some since he came over. 

They shared a look between each other and then looked back to Bradley. “Baby whisperer, huh?” Tim smirked, watching as his wife handed their daughter over to the aviator. “Good luck.”

Lyla quieted almost instantly once she was in Bradley’s arms, resting her head against his shoulder. You turned in your seat to smile at him, feeling like your heart was going to explode in your chest as you watched him pace the rear of the church with your niece in his arms. The only thing that pulled you from your reverie was your eldest brother, Tony, nudging your shoulder. 

“Oooh, you’re in trouble with that one, aren’t you?” he teased, taking the elbow to the ribs you delivered with a quiet grunt. “What? You’re looking at him like you want him to put a baby in you right here.”

“Tony!” you hissed, your cheeks warming with embarrassment. 

Before you could say anything else, Bradley returned to his seat beside you, a soundly sleeping Lyla on his shoulder. “Everything okay?” he whispered, noticing the flush in your cheeks.

Tony leaned over you. “She just --” 

You covered his mouth and shoved him back toward his wife before shaking your head at Bradley. “Everything’s fine, my brother is just being a pig,” you explained quietly, turning your attention back to the service when your father shot you and your brother a look over his shoulder. 

The remainder of midnight Mass went without incident, and when the service was over, you waited for everyone to leave before heading outside yourself with Bradley by your side. Your family was gathered on the steps of the church, making conversation amongst themselves when Tim stepped in front of you. 

“Thanks for holding her, Bradley,” he smiled, managing to lift his daughter into his own arms without waking her. “She really likes you.”

He shrugged, his hands sliding into his coat pockets. “She’s a cutie, that’s for sure. Thanks for trusting me with her.”

You snuggled against his side, smiling up at him. “Did you have a good night?” 

“I had a great night,” he promised, wrapping his arm around you. “I do have one thing that would make it better though.”

There was a curious look on your face when he pulled away, just enough to drop to one knee in front of you, his hand pulling a small box out of his pocket. You gasped, covering your mouth, unable to take your eyes off Bradley despite feeling your whole family staring at you.

“I love you so much,” he swallowed hard, opening the ring box to show a simple diamond ring that had belonged to his mother. “I want you to be my Tinkerbell forever. Will you marry me?”

A tear slid down your cheek as you nodded, offering him your hand. “Yes. God, yes, Bradley!”

Your family and a few other bystanders from the church all clapped as he slid the ring on your finger and pulled you into his arms, kissing you deeply. As you parted, a light snow began to fall, dusting your cheeks with cool snowflakes. 

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Look at you with the perfect timing.”

“I try,” he smirked, kissing you once again as your family headed off to their cars to go back home. “Let’s get back, we have Christmas and an engagement to celebrate.”

“It’s the best Christmas ever.”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster x reader #sailor-aviator's christmas writing challenge #Youtube

[alegendoftomorrow]

Letters to our Soldiers

Summary: Bradley finds himself making a Christmas wish on a letter from a stranger as he spends another Christmas alone ten thousand miles away from home.

Character: Bradley Bradshaw and F!reader (no use of Y/N)

Word Count: 1,208

Warnings: None

A/N: This is my third entry into @sailor-aviator winter challenger. My prompt was Merry Christmas, though I did also use this as a springboard for a possible series that I hope to start soon. Now, is this late... so very much so. Did life decide to send me into the new year with one finale kick…. Also yes. Is this also the first personal thing I’ve written for myself in a long time…also yes. But I had so much fun doing it and it feels good to get back to writing again. I hope you all have a phenomenal New Year and you find all the things you were looking for…. Enjoy some Christmas in February!

Bradley jumped off the ladder of his F-18 and shivered against the wind that blew across the deck. The sweat beading up along his brow and making his curls stick there was now making him feel even colder as he saluted the handful of privates who came to tighten his jet down to the deck and then lower it away so they could head back into port. Their practice drills finally done.

Rushing inside he tucked his helmet under his arm and headed right for the debriefing room. If he was lucky their CO would have nothing of note to say and send them all back to their bunks. Bradley wanted to change and get under his blankets. There was heat on the USS Dauntless but the steal walls and floors always seemed to hold onto the weather outside better then they did the temperature inside. Meaning right now it felt like walking through an ice box.

“Hey Bradshaw, you coming with us tonight or not?” That was Fitz’s voice echoing down the hall.

Bradley paused in the hall and pressed himself against the wall to let another officer pass by him as he waited for Fitz to catch up to him. “Na, I think I’m just going to stay in and try to catch up on some sleep.”

Fitz rolled his eyes and groaned as he walked in stride with Bradley to the briefing room. “Come on man it’s the first time we’ve seen land in weeks and you’re telling me you’d rather stay on this floating tin can then come and enjoy the night out with us?”

“That is exactly what I’m saying,” Bradley quipped back. “I intend to spend my leave sleeping and resting in my own bunk. Not eating bread and water in the brig.”

Fitz rolled his eyes and punched Bradley’s shoulder. Waving him off like he was a lost caused. “First of all, that happened one time and secondly you’re still boring.”

Bradley just shook his head and plopped down on one of the wooden seats. His excuse was the truth. Mostly. The other reason though was currently burning a hole in the pocket of his flight suit. A perfectly folded letter that still smelled faintly of warm vanilla. A letter from a stranger he’d never met. Natasha had signed him up for one of those letter writing programs for soldiers. He’d been annoyed at first, but now he looked forward to each and every one of them.

“We’ll be heading into port in a few hours and I expect all of you to act like the officers you are. Dismissed,” their CO finally called after the debrief had ended.

“Last chance Bradshaw,” Fitz said already halfway out of the door. “It’s Christmas Eve!”

“Leave the man alone Fitz. He’s got big and important plans for the night,” Omaha said with a laugh. Dragging Fitz out of the doorway as a chorus of other officers and enlisted men chattered loudly, interspersed with laughter and off key singing which Bradley just chuckled at.

After a quick shower he changed back into his dark t-shirt and pants laying back on his lower bunk and taking out the letter. The writing on the front was in pretty, dark cursive. Whoever this woman was she had the prettiest handwriting Bradley had ever seen. He pressed the letter to his nose and breathed in the warm scent of vanilla that still only faintly lingered there. It would be a hard day when the smell faded from this one too. Opening the letter, he tucked one of his hands back under his head and smiled softly.

Dear Soldier, 

            I don’t know what time zone you’re in, or even what country you’re stationed at, but where ever you are I hope you’re not spending Christmas Eve alone.

Bradley laughed. “Sorry to disappoint sweetheart,” he muttered. Though he did wonder if this technically counted as spending the day alone if he was reading her words…

             I for one will likely be spending it at the hospital. One of my co-workers, Mandy--she was the one involved in the blue cupcake fiasco a few months ago—anyways she has two adorable little boys and so I took her shifts so she could spend the holidays with them. I don’t mind though so don’t go feeling bad for me or anything. I like what I do and it’s nice to get to spend time with the patients over Christmas. Especially when some of them don’t have any family to come visit them. You should see the nurse’s station all decked out in different decorations for just about every different holiday celebrated among us.

Bradley’s smile grew wider as his heart swelled in his chest reading over the words. This woman was so kind and bright. He could so easily imagine her sitting at a nurse’s station and painstakingly writing to him everything that came to her mind as she looked over her floor. He imagined she had the most beautiful smile to match her pretty words. He found himself longing, as he often did, to ask her questions back. He wanted to know everything about her and he wanted to tell her everything about him. He wanted her to know that he reread the twelve other letters shed written him nearly every day. That he held them close to his chest when the nights got dark or the sea was rough. He wanted to tell her that he had them memorized. Every friend she mentioned and patient she cared for; he knew them all. He wanted to tell her that they had the same favorite color and favorite Girl Scout Cookie flavor. He wished her letters came with a return address.

            Alright well it’s getting late and I have to head out for another round but I want to make sure I get this in the mail to you so you get it in some kind of speedy order. I don’t really know how to say this without coming off like a stalker or some kind of wierdo, and I really hope you don’t thinks it’s weird but I included my address at the bottom of this page just in case you wanted to write back to me.

Bradley’s heart flpped and he sat up so quickly his head nearly hit the top bunk. Flicking his eyes to the bottom of the page he did indeed she her return address written there. His thumb brushed across her name and the letters and numbers beneath it.

I know the service is random and I’ve already written more letter than I was supposed to but, I don’t know, getting to write to you these past few months has felt nice. You really helped me, whoever you are out there, and I just want to keep writing to you if I can.

            I hope wherever you are you’re staying safe and that m letters have been a little piece of home you’ve been missing.

Merry Christmas Soldier.

“Merry Christmas sweetheart,” Bradley whispered. He looked down at the address one last time and then reached under his bunk into one of the drawers there. Pulling out a notebook and his pen he began his own letter.

#top gun maverick #top gun fic #letterstoasoldier #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw oneshot #Liz’s Christmas challenge #writing challenge #letters to you #rooster bradshaw

[bradshawsbaby]

You’re resting on the couch after a long day, Baby James curled up on your chest while Goose and Lydia are fast asleep on either side of you. It’s peaceful and quiet, and you’re just trying to soak in the stillness of the moment as you bask in the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree.

Bradley appears suddenly, hair still damp from his shower and humming softly under his breath. He smiles when he takes in the sight before him, a smile so tender that you know he’s counting his lucky stars, the same way you are.

Without saying a word, your husband moves to join you on the couch, lifting a sleeping Lydia into his arms so that he can steal her spot next to you. Settling your three-year-old daughter in his lap, Bradley then wraps his arm around you, and you lay your head on his shoulder with a soft sight of contentment.

There’s no need for words in that moment. You’re all safe and happy and together, and that’s all that matters.

#just thinking some soft thoughts #the bradshaw family #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x wife!reader #rooster x reader #mr. & mrs. bradshaw #mrs. bradshaw #christmas with the bradshaws #top gun: maverick

[roosterscockpit]

Christmas At The Bradshaw’s | H.C Pt.3

click here to see the master list

Merry Christmas to my babes that celebrate it! Happy holidays to my lovies that don’t ❤️ I hope you are all enjoying yourself today! I love you all so much! Enjoy Christmas with the Bradshaws and the dagger squad! I hope you like all 3 parts! Happy reading and enjoy! 🎄🎁❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The secret Santa exchange was over. Now everyone started to give their gifts to Leia. Coyote dashed for the tree and grabbed his gifts first. He held a box and two bags. He sat next to Leia and placed them next to her. “For you, Little V.” He pulled her in to him and kissed her head, “Merry Christmas, little babe!” He got Leia a 3D Star Wars lamp of the dark star, a diagram poster of an F-14 Tom Cat and F/A-18 super hornet. Leia’s eyes went wide, “Thank you uncle ‘Yote!” She jumped on him and gave him a hug and kiss on his cheek.

Bob wanted to go next. He asked Bradley to help him bring in a box from his car. When they brought it in, it was huge. He gave Leia the small box first. Inside was a small replica plane of Mav’s P-51 Mustang. Leia kissed it, “It’s like Papa Mav’s!” Leia started to unwrap the big box. She gasped and slapped back from the box, it was a mini piano for her. “IS THIS REALLY FOR ME?” She looked up at Bob with puppy dog eyes. “Is it really for me, uncle Rob?” He nodded and she started to cry. Bob went and held her, “Don’t cry vapor girl, you deserve the world. Merry Christmas, babe.” He wiped her tears.

Phoenix wiped her tears as she grabbed her gifts. She sniffled and chuckled. “I can’t top a piano.” She looked at Bob and laughed. She handed Leia a couple of bags and a box. Inside the first bag was a a custom made Leia Funko pop as a pilot. In the next bag was a Grogu snow globe. In the box was a sweater with Darth Vader’s chest plate. Leia squealed at her gifts from Phoenix. “Thank you, thank you, thank you Auntie Nix! Can I wear the sweater now?” She held it in her hands and bounced in place. Phoenix helped her put it on and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Muah! I’m glad you love it, Leia Rey.”

Fanboy danced over to Leia with his gifts. He handed her a big gift bag. “Merry ‘Sith’mas, Little Leia.” He winked at her. Leia looked at him with a big smile. “You like Star Wars too, uncle Mick?” She looked at him in disbelief. “I do.” He pinched Leia’s cheek. She opened the bag and removed the tissue paper. Fanboy got her a space mission launch kit and patches for her flight suit. Some of the few patches read, “WSO in training”, “Need for speed”, “Anytime Baby” and “Fleet Leader” Leia jumped into Fanboys arms. “Thank you, Uncle Mick.” She leaned her forehead to his. He kissed her nose, “You’re welcome, my little wizzo.” 

Next was Payback. He had quite a few gifts for Leia to open. the first one she opened was a a cartoon portrait poster of Leia dressed as Princess Leia fighting a storm trooper. The next was a mini remote controlled BB-8. The last ones were little Lego figures of Star Wars characters. Leia looked at all her gifts. “Uncle Rue! Can we play with the BB-8 now!?” She held it up to him. He laughed and patted her head. “After you open your gifts from Santa Jake, we can definitely play with it, buttercup.” She jumped around, “Thank you, uncle Rue!” He squatted down and placed his hand on her hip. He kissed her cheek, “You’re absolute welcome, Vapor.” 

Last but not least was Santa Jake. He grabbed his bag of presents for Leia. “Alright Honey, get ready.” Leia sat in front of him. The first gift she opened was Darth Maul lightsaber to add to her collection. The next gift was an airplane launcher gun. The next was a record player and a record of Harry Styles’ Harry’s House album. Leia freaked out at the album. “UNCLE JAKEY! OUR SONG IS ON HERE!” She held it close to her chest. He smiled, “It Is, Honey! Now you can dance to it anytime!” He pulled out the last gift. She opened it. It was her own fighter pilot helmet that was purple white and black that read “Vapor” along with her own aviation head set. Leia was speechless. She didn’t breathe. She was still. She started to shake with the helmet and headset in her hands. She sobbed. “Thank you, Uncle Jakey. I love you so much.” She collapsed into his arms. He held her close and kissed her head over and over again. “Anything for you, Leia Rey. Merry Christmas, Sweetheart.” He kissed her one more time.

After all the gifts were given to Leia, you and Bradley cleaned up the wrapping paper and started to sort her toys in her play area. You and Bradley thanked everyone individually for the gifts they all got for Leia. It was definitely known your little girl was loved by the Dagger squad. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Merry Christmas from the Bradshaws! 🥰🎄🎁❄️☃️  Stay safe this holiday season! 😘 I’ll be taking a small break! When I get back, His Little Girl continues! I will see you all soon 😘 I love love love you all! 💕

I REALLY HOPE THESE WORK! My sweet babies v

@lonelywitchv2​ @shakespear-picaso-lovechild​ @emma8895eb​ @beebslebobs​ @creativitybeware​ @peachiicherries​                @hotch-meeeeeuppppp​ @b-uckyreadss​ @winterrebel04​ @rosiahills22​ @treblemakeronbase​ @multiple-fandoms-girl​     @inky-sun​ @carsgeek24​ @caitsymichelle13​ @justanothermagicalsara​ @shouldershimmycity​ @itsmytimetoodream​ @javden​ @bregarc​ @misticbullet​         @castle-bookworms-world​ @asteria33​ @shanimallina87​ @bayisdying​ @smells-like-perfect-senses​ @teenwolf01​ @milestomaverick​ @minstens​ @luckyladycreator2​ @khaylin27​ @missbayside​ @tallrock35​ @phantomxoxo​ @itsdesiree86​ @adaydreamaway08​ @devvbabyy​ @spookycookie​ @ts1mp0ne​ @secretsicanthideanymore​ @notanordinaryprincess95​ @mak-32​ @abaker74​ @rintheemolion​ @lexhalstead3​ @badasspizzalover @xoxabs88xox​ @sarahsmi13s @mushy-mushroom04 @hazeli410 @the-navistar-carol  @bradshawsbitch  @callmemana 

#Miles teller #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster #natasha phoenix trace #robert bob floyd #rueben payback fitch #javy coyote machado #jake hangman seresin #mickey fanboy garcia #Top gun maverick #top gun #tgm cast #his little girl bradley bradshaw x reader #Christmas #christmas with the bradshaws #merry christmas #Dec. 25 2022 #I love u #this is in the Q #I am not here #Currently (most likely) fighting someone in my family for the gift i want in white elephant lololol. #i love u #Dagger squad #ho ho ho #MUAH #MUUUAH

[roosterforme]

Pink Christmas Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley just wants to make Christmas special for your daughter, and he's nervous he might have blown his cover as Santa. As Christmas Eve approaches, he pulls out all the stops for the two of you. But will you let him give Ellie everything from her wishlist?

Warnings: Fluff, language, single mom reader, mentions of loss of spouse

Length: 7000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Pink Christmas masterlist. Check out my masterlist for more! Banner by @mak-32. Written for @bellaireland1981 Winter RomCom Challenge

Once you started kissing Bradley, everything came back to you. Fingers in his soft hair, your body pressed to his, and his tongue softly caressing yours. You knew just what to do, and you didn't want to stop. When his big hands came to rest on your back, you couldn't even remember why you'd been nervous in the first place.

Your thumb found the rough stubble and slightly raised scars on his cheek at the same time you heard your front door knob rattling. When you pulled away from Bradley's lips, you looked up at his handsome face and smiled, completely distracted as your daughter let herself inside. You pulled free from Bradley's warm embrace just as you heard Ellie ask him, "Who are you?"

Bradley licked his lips as he examined your face with his pretty brown eyes. Then he turned his full attention to your child. "Are you Ellie?" he asked, and when she nodded and set her backpack down, he reached out to shake her hand. "My name's Bradley. I'm a handyman from the North Pole."

"A handyman?" she asked, shaking his hand firmly. "What does that mean?"

"Means Santa sent me here to set up your pink tree, because he got a little busy this week," he replied so smoothly, you almost believed him yourself. 

Ellie gasped and looked past him into the living room. "Santa got my tree!" she gushed. "Mommy!"

"Yeah," you replied with a laugh. "Santa really knows what he's doing."

Bradley looked at you with a little bit of a blush coloring his face, and you were shocked to find that you instinctively wanted to reach for his hand and kiss that pretty shade of pink on his cheeks. You barely managed to stop yourself as he took a step toward you. 

"That was close," he muttered, watching Ellie run her hands along all of the ornaments that she could reach. But you were still busy looking at him, because his response to your daughter was what had you melting inside. He had a soft smile on his lips as he laughed. "I think she likes her tree."

You rubbed your fingers along the back of his hand, and his gaze met yours immediately before falling to your lips. "I think so, too."

He nodded toward the door. "I should go," he said slowly. You didn't know how to tell him that for some reason you knew your house would feel too empty if he left right now. When Ellie spoke up, you could have hugged her for her brilliant idea. 

"Mommy, is Bradley allowed to stay for pizza?"

You let go of his hand as Ellie came back over with one of the pink heart ornaments. Then you and she both looked up at him as he asked, "Am I allowed to stay?" He looked a bit like a wayward puppy as he added, "I love pizza."

Your heart swelled at the idea of him in your house a little longer, maybe sharing a few more secret touches. "Of course you can stay."

Ellie reached out and took him by the hand, dragging him toward her playroom, and he went willingly as she asked, "Do they have pizza at the North Pole? Which one of Santa's elves is your favorite? I liked Phoenix the best, but I liked grumpy Hangman, too."

Her voice faded as she rambled on, and you could hear Bradley laughing. Then you were alone in the pink glow of the tree as it grew darker outside, and you took your phone out to order pizza just like you always did on Friday nights. But for the first time in a long time, you couldn't stop smiling. 

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

"I've never played dolls before," Bradley said as Ellie picked one up to brush its hair. 

"That's okay," she replied, handing him a different doll. "I'll show you how. It's not really that hard. Just brush her hair and make her look pretty for the party we're taking them to."

Bradley grunted and picked up one of the toy brushes. "I think I can handle that."

A few minutes later, he was very into coordinating which outfit his doll was going to wear to the birthday party they were going to be attending. "How does this look?" he asked her, and she handed him a pink ribbon. 

"She needs a bow in her hair."

"Right," he muttered, and he tried a few times, but his fingers seemed to be too big to get it right. 

As he was struggling with it, Ellie paused what she was doing and said, "You seem really familiar."

"Do I?" he asked cautiously, still fighting the bow and hoping she didn't immediately realize that he was in fact Santa Claus. 

She was quiet for a beat before she said, "I think you remind me of my dad." Bradley's eyes met hers, but she didn't look sad or upset, just resigned. "He was good at dolls, too. But not tying the bows."

Then Bradley felt your hand on his shoulder as you said, "Do you need a hand?" He nodded and passed the doll to you, watching as you made it look so easy to tie the perfect bow. "Pizza will be here soon," you said softly, handing the doll back to him. 

"Thanks," he whispered, still surprised by your daughter's words. Somehow it didn't make him feel nervous or weird to be compared to your late husband. But it did come with a sense of responsibility of sorts. He already ordered Ellie her pink art kit, but he found himself just wanting to spend time with the two of you. The kisses had been one thing, but playing dolls and eating pizza seemed natural as well.

When the food arrived, Bradley hopped up and tried to pay for it, but you'd already put it on your credit card. So he snatched your wallet out of your hand and pulled tip money out of his own for the delivery guy. And if he was able to get his arms around you in the process and press a soft kiss to your cheek, it was just a bonus for him. Then he watched you cut a slice of pizza in half for your daughter as you tried to hide your smile from him. 

"Where did the flowers come from?" Ellie asked, pointing at the big bouquet and the smaller one. 

"Santa sent them with me," he replied, picking up the small one so she could smell them. "He told me that you and your mom both like pink."

"Santa knows everything," she said as she nodded, and Bradley smiled down at her. "I want to eat by the tree," she insisted when you handed her a plate and a juice box. 

"Yeah," Bradley agreed as he picked out some slices of pizza. "Me too." So you handed him a juice box as well, and he followed Ellie back to the living room with a smile. The three of you sat on the floor in a little circle next to the tree, and Bradley regaled the two of you with made up stories about the North Pole. Ellie was in stitches, and you bit your lip every time she laughed, your smile absolutely infectious. 

Bradley ended up eating Ellie's pizza crust as you cleaned up the plates, and he knew it was time for him to leave. It was late. But he was nervous he wouldn't see you before Christmas Eve when he planned to come by as Santa. 

"Mommy, can Bradley come back and look at Christmas lights with us?"

You paused as Bradley stood up next to the pink tree, and then you said, "Ellie, I'm not even sure where to go for that in San Diego."

"I could ask Santa," Bradley blurted out. "I'm sure he'd know the best spots in any city to see Christmas lights."

"Yeah!" Ellie agreed. "Santa would know!"

You only hesitated for a second before you said, "Only if it's not going to take up too much of your time."

Bradley patted Ellie on the head and said, "I can make time for that. Let me get back to the North Pole and ask Santa where the best lights are. Thanks for teaching me how to play dolls." Then he met your gaze and said, "And thanks for the pizza."

"It's our pleasure," you told him, echoing his own words from the other day. 

He swallowed hard; the urge to lean in and kiss you was so strong. He fought it though, because he knew he had another excuse to see you both again soon. Then he forced himself toward the door. "I'll be in touch," he promised, and when he opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch, he noticed Ellie's gaze settle on his Bronco, a look of curiosity on her face.

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

You were a mess the rest of the weekend, texting Bradley late into the night on both Friday and Saturday after Ellie was in bed. You found yourself continually peeking at the selfie he sent you like a kid trying to find their Christmas presents early. He was just that damn good looking.

More importantly, he was sweet. He had invited you and your daughter to join him on a drive down to Imperial Beach to look at lights on Tuesday night, and of course you'd immediately agreed. 

Ellie and I wouldn't miss it.

Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: I'll pick you up at six. I already have a little treat for the ride.

You giggled and flopped down on your bed, eyeing your wedding photo across the room. "I really like him," you said out loud with a grin. Then you texted Bradley back.

What kind of treat?

He must have been holding his phone, his response came that quickly.

Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: Something pretty and sweet, just like you. I absolutely can't get you off of my mind. Not that I'm trying very hard.

"Okay," you said out loud, finding it easier to give yourself a little pep talk when he got you flustered like this. "You can do this. Be cool."

I thought you looked cute in your Santa beard, but your real mustache is even better.

There. Flirtatious but not too much. A solid response. You gave yourself a little pat on the shoulder. But then he upped the ante just a tiny bit by sending a selfie of him blushing. You groaned, because his mustache was immaculate, and you wanted to get your lips all over his cheeks and see if you could make his blush deepen.

Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: I've been thinking about our first kiss on repeat. When Santa shows up on Christmas Eve, are you going to kiss him, too?

You laughed as you texted him back.

Yes. I think I have a crush on both of you.

Then you got yourself into bed, knowing it would feel like a very long wait for Tuesday night to arrive, but you fell asleep with a smile on your lips when he wrote back.

Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: Then I feel doubly lucky.

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

It was honestly a good thing you had so much to do for work, because it took your mind off of your nerves. But when Tuesday evening finally arrived, your hands were shaking as you tried to get ready in front of your bathroom mirror. You kept looking at the most recent text in your thread with Bradley, and it was bringing out your anxious energy. It was a simple message with a photo attached, but now you were second guessing everything. 

Bradley 'Santa' Bradshaw: I hope I look good in pink.

He did. He looked fantastic in his pink and black floral print shirt. That wasn't the issue. It was your daughter's words echoing through your mind as she stood in the bathroom doorway that had you rattled.

"Hey, Mommy? Is Bradley going to be your boyfriend?"

You looked at her as you tried to put on some lip gloss. "Do you want him to be?"

"Maybe," she replied, eyes narrowing a bit. "I just need to do a little more research and make sure he's the one I asked for."

You almost laughed. You would have if you weren't so nervous. "What kind of research? And what do you mean the one you asked for?"

Ellie just shrugged in response. "I'll take care of it. You look pretty, Mommy."

Your throat felt tight as you swallowed against the thing that was really bothering you and whispered, "If Bradley ever does become my boyfriend, he's not going to replace the memory of your dad. Understand?"

Ellie nodded and sighed sadly. "I understand. But you said he's not coming back."

"He's not," you confirmed softly. The sharp, stabbing pangs of sadness had dulled a bit over time, however you still felt one now. But you'd also spend days doing some soul searching over the fact that you knew you were attracted to everything about Bradley. You didn't feel as hesitant around him as you thought you would after losing your husband. After more than a year alone with Ellie, you felt like this could be something.

Then your daughter helped you push your thoughts aside as she said, "Bradley was pretty good at playing dolls, and I could teach him how to be even better. And he looked like he was good at holding your hand."

"Oh," you gasped, setting your makeup aside. You didn't think she'd seen that, but she didn't seem upset in the least about it. "Yeah... he was good at it."

"Is it almost time to go look at lights?" she asked you just as your doorbell rang.

"Oh god," you groaned softly, butterflies and unidentified nerves erupting inside you. What if you did something stupid tonight? What if you didn't even know what to talk about?

"He's here!" Ellie called as she ran for the front door with you right behind her. And when she swung the door open wide, there he was in his pink shirt with a bright smile on his face and two, oversized pink candy canes in one hand. 

"Hey, Ellie," he replied easily as she beamed up at him. Then he looked at you and his smile faltered a bit. He swallowed, and it took him a few seconds to greet you. When he did, it was just one raspy word. "Hi."

"Hi," you replied softly, and the butterflies were still going wild, but the nerves were replaced with longing. "Bradley."

Ellie was reaching for the candy canes, and he patted the top of her head, but he was still looking at you. "Hi," he repeated, and you couldn't help but laugh. "See, talking to you in person is way better than texting, even though you take all the thoughts out of my brain and all the words out of my mouth."

You ducked your head to the side and covered your embarrassingly large grin with your hands as Ellie asked, "Are these for my mom and me? Santa's usually the one who brings us pink treats."

"Oh," Bradley replied, "well, these ones are from me. I hope that's okay. I saw these fancy candy canes at the North Pole sweet shop and thought of the two of you."

Ellie was already unwrapping hers, and Bradley held the other one up right in front of his chest with a grin, coaxing you closer. "Thank you for the treats. And for taking us to look at lights," you said, letting your fingers meet his as you took your candy cane. 

"It's my pleasure."

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

Bradley didn't know really how booster seats worked, but you moved one from your car to his Bronco, and then Ellie climbed in. 

"Are we ready to look at lights?" he asked as he started the engine. 

"Yes!" she replied from the backseat. "Did Santa tell you the best place to go?"

"He absolutely did. And he remembered that you liked pink, so I'm thinking there might be a special surprise for you."

"Special surprise?" you asked from next to him in the front seat. It had been so long since he'd had even one passenger let alone two. When your fingers came creeping across the leather seat, he reached for your tentative hand and held it tight in his. 

"It's a surprise for you, too," he promised, hoping you had no idea what the grand finale of the drive through light show was going to be. 

You laced the fingers of your left hand with his right, and Bradley had to take a calming breath. He hadn't felt this strongly about someone in a long time, and he just met you. But his brain had already been filling in the blanks of how good it might feel to be around you the longer he got to know you, because the chemistry was definitely there. 

He glanced at your profile at a red light and reached with his left hand to turn on the radio to the station that was playing Christmas music. Then he pulled your hand a little closer to him as the light turned green, and he could see you smiling out of the corner of his eye. "How's that candy cane?" he asked Ellie, glancing in the rearview mirror. 

"Good! It tastes like cotton candy."

"Do you like cotton candy?" he asked, noting you were still holding your treat in your right hand.

"All kids like cotton candy!" Ellie squealed with a laugh.

"I like cotton candy. Does that make me a kid?" he asked her as he turned left toward the beach, the darkest streaks of pink and purple running along the horizon behind the setting sun.

She giggled in delight and so did you. "No, you're too big," Ellie told him. "Nice try."

"Harsh," Bradley muttered as he made another turn, and then the enormous light display along the beach came into view. "Okay, here we are." He turned your way as he pulled up to the kiosk to pay, saying, "I'm going to need my hand back."

You immediately pulled your hand away from him and hurriedly said, "No problem," as he reached for his wallet. 

He chuckled and said, "It's coming right back to you once I pay, so don't get too comfy."

"Oh, I can pay!" you tried to insist as you scrambled for your bag on the floor by your feet, giving Bradley enough time to hand over some cash and pull through the gate toward the light displays. 

"Absolutely not," he said as you gave up and tossed your bag back to the floor. "Now where did your hand go?"

You turned to look at him before glancing back at Ellie who was mesmerized by the lights all around the Bronco. "Right here." And then Bradley felt your hand slip into his grasp where it already felt like it belonged. 

"That's better."

He barely took his foot off the brake pedal to keep coasting forward behind the car in front of him, and he hummed along to the music on the radio. Ellie's commentary from the backseat was pretty amusing with her occasional interjections of "Frosty!" and "Rudolph!" 

The light display was massive, and there was a long line of cars in front of them, which was great. Bradley didn't want to rush taking the two of you back home again. Especially not when you leaned in a little closer to him and whispered, "Thanks for this. She's having a great time."

Bradley came to a stop in front of a lit up display of ice skating penguins and turned to face you. "So am I. Been having a pretty great time since I met the two of you."

You whimpered, and Bradley squeezed your hand a little tighter as he fought the desire to lean in closer and kiss you. Then you whispered his name, and he nearly lost the battle. "Bradley. Are you still going to want to see us after Christmas?"

When he opened his mouth to tell you he wanted to see you every day, Ellie gasped in the backseat. "It looks like Santa's sleigh!"

Bradley turned to face forward, and sure enough, Santa's sleigh was just ahead, and the other cars had started to move up as well. "Sure does," he replied to her as he coasted forward so she could see. Now you were looking at the lights as well, and Bradley watched all the colors dance across your face. When you tilted your head to look at him, he said, "I'm going to want to see you as much as you'll let me."

A soft smile curled along your lips as he kept moving the Bronco forward. You didn't respond, but your fingers laced with his again, and Bradley could feel your thumb stroking along his. He took that as a pretty good sign, and then you and Ellie both started to laugh at the same time.

"Hey," Bradley said when he saw them, too. "A bunch of pink flamingos for my two pink loving girls."

"I love them!" Ellie gushed, clapping her hands as Bradley pulled up between two light displays of hundreds of flamingos wearing Santa hats. "So much pink!"

Then your lips were on his cheek before brushing back toward his ear, and he had to stop the Bronco again as your hand grazed his knee. "This is the best," you laughed softly. 

If you wanted to, he'd bring you both back tomorrow and the next night and the night after that. He wanted to watch your face illuminated by the pink lights as you bit your lip and smiled. He wanted to hear Ellie's laughter from the backseat while she sang Jingle Bells. 

Bradley moved the Bronco as slowly as he could so you could enjoy the flamingos for as long as possible. Then he drove through fake snow being blasted at all of the cars which somehow made him feel like he was back in Virginia again.

"I do not miss the snow," you told him, cradling his hand like you did this all the time. He very carefully pulled back out onto the road using one hand, because the last thing he wanted was to let go of you. 

"But Mommy, what if it's snowing at the North Pole?" Ellie asked. "How will we visit Bradley?"

Shit. He didn't know what to say, because he didn't want to confuse her or mess this up. "Maybe after the busy holiday, Santa will let me spend a little more time in San Diego so you don't have to brave the snow again."

Ellie hummed skeptically from the backseat as Bradley wound his way back through the neighborhoods on the outskirts of the city. "Yeah... that might work," she replied. "I'm going to have to stay up on Christmas Eve and have a conversation with Santa."

"I'll remind him to bring his A game," Bradley muttered. "Now let me drop the two of you off since you still have school tomorrow."

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

You watched Bradley lift Ellie out of his Bronco, and then he moved her booster seat back to your car for you. When he walked both of you up to the porch, he had his hand at the middle of your back, his fingers teasing at your waist in the cool, night air. When you approached the front door, however, he knelt down in front of Ellie and asked, "Did you have fun?"

"Yes!"

"Should I tell Santa that was a good light display?"

"Yes!"

"Did you like the flamingos?"

"So much!" Then she flung her arms around his neck and said, "Thank you." The fact that your daughter seemed perpetually happy around this man whether he was dressed as Santa or just being himself had you nervously wiping your palms along your jeans.

"You're welcome. I'll see you soon?" he asked, patting the top of her head as he stood, eyeing you as he asked the question. 

"Yes," you answered quickly as you opened the front door. You paused once Ellie walked inside, and you turned toward her. "Start getting ready for bed. I'll be up in just a minute."

"Okay. Bye, Bradley."

"Bye, Ellie," he replied with a laugh, but you were already pulling the door closed, leaving you and him alone on the porch together. 

"Hey, I had a great time-" he began, but you cut him off when you lunged for him. You couldn't help it. Bradley caught you in his big arms, and wrapped you up tight against him as he grinned. "-with you tonight."

Your fingers were tangled in his soft curls as your lips mashed against his, but even with you pressed right up to his body in desperation, he was a gentleman. His hands were splayed across your back, rubbing up and down, slowly bunching the fabric of your shirt.

"Me too," you promised between kisses, nodding slightly as you nibbled on his lip. He hummed softly as your hand drifted down to the back of his neck, and he deepened the kiss. His tongue tasted sweet, and you felt beautiful and desirable when you were with him.

But you broke the kiss and whispered, "I need to get Ellie in bed."

"Right. Right." He was still holding you close, still slowly rubbing your back with his hands. And then you kissed him one more time, because you needed to. It was soft and perfect just like Friday when you helped him decorate the tree. "I'll see you soon," he whispered as his nose grazed your cheek.

You felt your whole body tingle as he pressed one more slightly rougher kiss to your lips before turning back to his Bronco. You had to fight the urge to chase him down for more, waving like an idiot as he pulled away instead. There were just a few more days until Christmas, and you wondered if it would be too forward of you to tell him that he's the only thing you wanted for yourself this year.

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

Bradley took a deep breath as he pulled on his red flight suit and grabbed his matching hat and white beard. It was getting late for Ellie to still be awake, but you'd promised him it was okay to stop by around 9:30. He wasn't quite sure what to expect, but he hoped she was still excited to see Santa. 

With Christmas music playing and wrapped gifts on the front seat, Bradley spent the drive over trying to decide how to explain to your daughter that he was the same person when he was dressed as Santa and when he was just himself. Just Bradley. And then he started to get antsy. Just Bradley. He didn't have much to offer to either of you. Just a guy who occasionally got deployed and suddenly liked the color pink.

When he parked in front of your place, he sat for a minute, afraid he was going to do or say the wrong thing. If Ellie still believed in the magic of Santa Claus, he didn't want to take that from her. He glanced toward your front window and saw movement. The two of you were dancing in front of the lit up pink tree, and a smile found its way to his face. 

"Just be Santa," he said out loud, snatching up the presents and closing the door behind him. 

With his beard and hat securely in place, he knocked and immediately heard Ellie squeal. "It's Santa! I just know it!"

And then she was there, swinging the door open so quickly, Bradley was surprised it stayed on the hinges. "Merry Christmas," he greeted, getting the wind knocked out of him by the five year old launching herself at him and by how cute both of you looked in your matching pink snowflake pajamas. 

"Santa!" Ellie gushed, reaching for his hand to lead him inside. "We made you some heart shaped cookies with icing!"

"I love that," he replied, but his eyes were stuck on you. Bradley could just tell you'd welcome a kiss from him right now, and he wanted to give you one, but instead he followed you over to the tree.

"Cookies and some hot chocolate," you told him, picking up a plate of sweets and that same mug he drank from last week. "Just for you, Santa."

Bradley set down the presents, including the art kit filled with every shade of pink paint anyone could possibly want. That's when he noticed that instead of eating the pink candy cane he gave you on Tuesday night, you'd hung it on one of the tree branches. He was already smiling when he saw the little box with a gift tag next to his boot that said "TO: SANTA. FROM: ELLIE."

"This is for me?" he asked, bending to pick it up. 

Ellie nodded, looking up at him hopefully. "I made you something."

"Well then I'm sure I'll love it," he replied. 

He was just starting to unwrap his gift when Ellie turned toward you and asked, "Mommy, would it be okay if I talk to Santa alone for a minute?"

Bradley's fingers stilled as you nodded and softly said, "I'll just go sit on the steps." You bent to kiss the top of Ellie's head before smiling softly at Bradley, and then you were gone. And he was alone with a child who was eyeing him with such curiosity, it made his heart beat a little faster.

Ellie tugged on his hand until he was kneeling, and then she leaned in a little closer. Bradley felt like he was under a microscope as she examined him, but then she smiled. 

"You were a very convincing fake Santa. But after you brought the tree over, I knew it was you right away, Bradley." 

"You did?" he asked, heart plummeting as her words washed over him. If he just ruined Santa Claus for this adorable little girl, he didn't know what he'd do with himself. 

"Yeah. I figured out that you were the same guy since both Santa and Bradley drive the same car and have the same voice."

Oh, shit. His eyes went wide as she pulled his beard down below his chin and smiled at him. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't actually intend to lie to you about being a North Pole handyman."

"I know," she said, taking his gift from his hand and opening it up for him. Inside the box were two Christmas ornaments. They were made out of construction paper with popsicle sticks glued to look like pictures in frames, and there were ribbons attached to the top so they could be hung. 

"Ellie," he whispered, taking them both out of the box to inspect them more closely in the soft, pink light. She'd taken the time to draw pictures on both of them. The first one said ELLIE and had a well drawn F/A-18 and some elves along with a pink candy cane and three flamingos. The other ornament said SANTA and was complete with pink flowers, a pink tree and a picture of a man. "Is that supposed to be me?" he asked her softly.

"Yeah. But just you, Bradley. Not really Santa."

"Thanks," he muttered, not sure how to tell a five year old that this was perhaps the best gift he'd ever received in his adult life.

But now she was standing with her hands on her hips. "I need to know what happened when you went to talk to the real Santa after the air show. And don't lie to me this time."

"What do you mean?" he asked, heart beating faster again.

"Since you got permission to dress as a pretend Santa for kids like me at the air show, you get to sometimes talk to the real Santa Claus, right?"

Oh. Maybe he hadn't completely fucked this up after all. "Of course. That's how it works when you get chosen to be a Santa representative."

"Yeah," she said, nodding like a CEO closing a business deal. "That's what I thought."

"You're a very smart kid," he told her with a smile, but clearly she wasn't quite finished with him yet. 

"So? What happened when you talked to him? Did Santa know you'd be perfect? Is that why you kept coming back to our house to see my mom?"

"Perfect?" he asked cautiously.

She grinned at him as she said, "Yeah. The perfect boyfriend for my mom. The one I asked for."

Bradley was speechless. That's what he wanted to be. Your boyfriend. Maybe more than that someday. His eyes roamed Ellie's face, so innocent in the way she still believed there was magic here. But maybe there actually was. "Yes. That's exactly what happened, Kiddo. I went to meet with Santa, and I told him what was on your wishlist. And I told him how important it was that you got everything you wanted since you're always on the nice list."

She clapped her hands and bobbed up and down. "And he knew you'd be the perfect boyfriend?"

"Yeah," Bradley said, throat tight with emotion. "He knew I'd fall for your mom and you and the color pink and just all of it."

She hugged him tight, and he scooped her up and hung both homemade ornaments on the pink tree. "Merry Christmas," she whispered.

"Merry Christmas," he replied. "Think it's okay if I talk to your mom now?"

She nodded, and he carried her to the stairs where you were sitting with your own mug of hot chocolate waiting for them. "You ready for bed, Ellie?" you asked, looking between your daughter and Bradley with his beard down below his chin with some concern. 

Then Ellie kissed his cheek and said, "Goodnight, Bradley," as he set her down on the steps next to you. 

"Night, Ellie," he replied, and he watched her kiss you too before climbing the stairs and going into a room that was lit by the soft glow of a nightlight. And then you and he were alone, and you were sliding over to make room on the step next to you.

Your hesitant smile made him a little lightheaded as you asked, "So she knows you're Santa from the air show?"

He chuckled softly. "Something like that. But don't worry, she still knows that the real Santa exists. She's got quite the imagination."

"Yeah, I don't think I'll ever have to worry about that," you replied, setting down your mug and reaching for his hand. It was the easy way you laced your fingers with his once again that spurred him on. You were grinning as he leaned in to kiss you, his white beard tickling your chin. "Hi, Santa," you whispered against his lips, and he just knew this was how it was supposed to be.

When he pulled away from you with a smile of his own, he said, "There's something I need to tell you. About the day we met."

Your brow creased in concern, and he leaned in to kiss you there as you asked, "What about the day we met?"

He wanted to be delicate with you and take his time. It's what you deserved. You and Ellie both. But he also wanted to once again make his feelings crystal clear for you. "That first day, at the air show... when I took Ellie up to sit in my jet, she asked for a pink tree and an art kit with pink paint." Bradley paused, stroking his rough fingers along your soft cheek before he added, "But she also asked Santa to bring a boyfriend for you."

You gasped. "She did? My five year old asked Santa to bring me a boyfriend?" You buried your face in your hands and groaned softly. "That's so embarrassing."

Bradley gently peeled your fingers away from your face as you grimaced at him, but he just laughed. "It's not embarrassing. It's sweet." He waited until you were looking at him again, even though you were nibbling on your lip a little anxiously. "And the thing is... somehow, I think it's supposed to be me."

When your lips parted on a soft sound, your face looked hopeful, and Bradley squeezed your hand as you barely whispered, "You?"

"Yeah. Me," he told you with a little laugh. "I'm nothing special, but I'm hoping you'll let me give Ellie everything she wants for Christmas?"

You slowly climbed onto his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck, your eyes bright and sincere. "You want to be my boyfriend?"

"Desperately," he promised. "And I'm not trying to replace Ellie's dad, and we can do this at whatever pace works for the two of you. But I think this was meant to be."

And then you were smiling against his lips and kissing him as he held you on the steps. You laughed as you pushed your fingers through his hair, sending his red hat down the stairs followed by his beard.

"Then I guess Ellie can have everything from her wish list."

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

One year later....

"The tree looks beautiful," Ellie said, hanging up the two ornaments she made last year as you and Bradley each sipped mugs of hot chocolate. The pink Christmas tree stood tall and proud in the same spot it had occupied until February, when you finally convinced her it had to come down after Valentine's Day. 

Bradley had gone overboard, perhaps even more so than last year, coming home from work a few hours ago on Christmas Eve with more pink ornaments for your daughter to add to her collection. 

"You're spoiling us," you told your boyfriend, and you watched a grin bloom on his lips. But maybe you were spoiling him back just as much. This year, you and Ellie had on matching pink pajamas covered in gingerbread cookies, and Bradley had coordinating pants to wear with his white undershirt. It felt good to have him here, like he was always meant to step in when he did. 

"I love spoiling you," he whispered, taking your empty mug and collecting you in his arms. "I love spoiling both my girls."

You and he took things slow at first. He spent the night with you last Christmas Eve, his limbs tangled up with yours in your bed. But your clothing had stayed on, and his lips never went further south than your neck. After that, you fumbled your way through a few dates with him; sometimes Ellie joined the two of you, and sometimes she stayed with Bradley's best friend and former elf, Natasha. But you quickly learned that you hadn't forgotten how to be with someone intimately. All you needed was the right someone who would let you realize that for yourself.

Bradley moved in with you a few months ago, and you hadn't looked back. He was becoming an expert at playing dolls with Ellie, and he made both of you so happy, sometimes your face hurt from smiling so much. He wasn't a replacement, and he wasn't an improvement, but he was something you knew you couldn't live without now.

"Hey, I almost forgot," he murmured. "I grabbed two more things on my way home today. I'll be right back." 

When he left the living room, you walked over to Ellie and kissed the top of her head. "I'm really happy we got Bradley for Christmas last year," she said, making you laugh.

"Me too. It's a good thing you asked Santa to bring him for me."

She looked up at you with wide eyes and a little smirk. "Just wait until you find out what I asked for this year."

You looked down at her with an amused smile. "What did you ask for this year?"

But she was distracted now as Bradley came back in with a soft smile on his lips and two small pink boxes. He knelt down in front of Ellie and handed her the bigger one, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Merry Christmas, Kiddo," he whispered.

"Merry Christmas," she told him, and when she opened the box, you gasped. 

"Bradley."

He got your daughter a rose gold necklace with a pink diamond charm, and Ellie squealed in delight when she saw it. "It's so pretty!"

"Just like you," he said, taking it out of the box and clasping it around her neck. She wrapped one hand around the charm and smiled as Bradley turned to look up at you. "I got something for your mom, too."

At first, when he handed you the smaller box, you were convinced it was a necklace to match Ellie's. But then you met his eyes, and you knew it wasn't. Your heart was racing as you looked at him, fingers shaking with anticipation as he said, "I love you. So much. The last year with you has been magical, and I want to be here forever."

You glanced at Ellie, and she was all bright smiles as she bounced up and down as you opened the box. "Oh," you gasped, because it was the prettiest pink ring. And it did match her necklace.

When you looked up from the box and met his eyes, he asked you something that you already knew the answer to. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes!"

You held the box tight as he stood and spun you around the room in his arms, his soft laughter filling your heart as Ellie loudly cheered, "I asked Santa for a husband for my mom!"

You laughed as Bradley smothered your face in kisses, and then he pulled the ring free before tossing the box aside. As he slid the rose gold and pink diamond ring onto your finger, he grinned and said, "Santa never disappoints."

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

Happy holidays! I hope Santa Bradley brings you everything from your wishlist! Thanks @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls @thedroneranger @cherrycola27

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster x reader #rooster imagine #rooster fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster bradshaw x female reader #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #pink christmas

[jupitercomet]

There Are 15 People in This House, You’re the Only One Who Has to Make Trouble — Teaser

summary - Your job was simple: write a heartwarming article about the selfless firefighters who are working around the clock instead of celebrating the holidays. You thought it would be easy, firefighters are supposed to be friendly, right? Well the fire captain who's had it out for you since the day that you started certainly isn't. When he's not undermining you at every turn, he's making your life a living hell and downright ruining your Christmas. All because he caught you from falling out of a tree one time!

coming december 1st!

“So…” You tap your fingers along the wooden stool below you, drawing out the word as you watch the man in front of you clean up things around the station. “Bradley Bradshaw, huh?”

“Fire Captain Bradley Bradshaw.” He corrects.

You hold back an eye roll, lifting your pen to jot something down on your notepad. “Right.”

“What are you writing?” Bradley stops suddenly, marching over to you and ripping your notepad from you before you can protest. He reads over the few words you have scribbled and narrows his eyes. “I do not have an authority kink. And I highly doubt your article is supposed to be about my sex life.”

You shrug, plucking the notepad back from him. “I’m just writing what I see.” Hoping down from the stool, you give him another sickeningly sweet smile. “Maybe if you actually gave me an interview, I wouldn’t have to rely on my people reading skills.”

“I already told you, I already have a guy that’ll give you an interview. He eats this press shit up.” Again Bradley seems to have no regard for face-to-face conversations as he’s already walking away from you.

You’re borderline running to keep up with him. “And I already told you that my assignment is to follow you guys around for a week, I’m going to need more than one interview.”

“Alright, fine.” Bradley stops suddenly and you nearly trip over your own feet to stop from bumping into him. “You want an interview? Here’s an interview. I’m a firefighter, I fight fires. Sometimes I catch careless girls from falling out of trees—it’s not really my job, but I like to give back to the community.” He shrugs sarcastically. “When I’m not putting out fires, I wait here until someone calls me to put out a fire, and then I do. That good enough for you?”

You ignore his not so subtle dig at you in favor of jotting down notes. This is probably the most you’re gonna get with him, so you might as well take advantage of it. “Are you sad you won’t be getting time off for the holidays?”

“No, I’m not. I don’t really celebrate, so I don’t care that much.” Bradley crosses his arms.

“Uh-huh,” you nod, still looking at your notepad. “And when will you be accepting your award from People Magazine for Grumpiest Man of the Year?”

“When will I—” When Bradley processes your words, his jaw clenches and you’re suddenly aware of your height difference as he towers over you menacingly. “Oh, you’re real funny, kitty. Look, in case I haven’t made it clear, I don’t like you. And if I had it my way, you wouldn’t be here at all, so let me make this easy for you. Stay out of my way.”

The two of you stare at each other and you note how tense Bradley’s shoulders are. He looks like one of those bulls in the bullfighting rings that chase after the red capes. You read once that it isn’t the color red that sets off the bull, but actually the movement of the cape and if you’re the red cape in this scenario then you probably shouldn’t move. Honestly you wonder if bulls can even see the color red. But that caricature of a bull with smoke coming out of his nose is exactly what Bradley looks like right now. You wonder if you should tell him that.

“Seresin.” He barks suddenly, still keeping his eyes on you and it takes everything in you not to jump.

You hadn’t even noticed the other firefighter making his way down the stairs and you’re mildly impressed by Bradley’s peripheral vision. Finally Bradley breaks eye contact with you and it’s only then that you turn to take in the other man in front of you.

Much like Bradley, he’s unfairly tall. His uniform certainly hugs him in all the right places and he fills it out with what you know is concentrated muscle. Blond hair is gelled up slightly on his head and piercing green eyes meet your own with a polite smile that his captain hadn’t given you.

Bradley nods his head in your direction. “Give our journalist here an interview.”

“Sorry, Captain,” The man’s eyes dart to the exit and he almost seems to shift his weight nervously. “I actually have to be somewhere—”

“That was an order, Lieutenant.” Bradley interrupts him and then he’s stalking off before you or the other man can get another word in.

With that lovely, uncomfortable aura in the air, you shoot the man in front of you an apologetic smile. “Hi,” you introduce yourself, holding out a hand. “I’m with the Union-Tribune. I’m writing an article about the firefighters working over the holidays and would love to get an interview from you if you have the time.”

“Well, apparently I do,” the blond chuckles awkwardly, scratching at his neck as he shakes your hand with his other one. “Jake Seresin.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jake.” You smile again.

He nods—infinitely friendlier than a certain Bradley Bradshaw. “So what questions were you wanting to ask me?”

You move to find somewhere for the two of you to sit and Jake follows with what looks to be a strained smile. His name feels familiar, though you certainly couldn’t have put it to the face, and you recall a recent article one of your colleagues had written about a nasty apartment fire that had practically brought the complex down. As of now, there weren’t any casualties, but you’d heard there had been a high number injured, including one in critical condition. Jake Seresin had been one of the firefighters to arrive on the scene—that’s how you recognized his name—and had been the last one to go in and look for any other people.

You know better than to ask him about the event, not when it has nothing to do with your article. You clear your throat with another smile. “Um, did you always know you wanted to be a firefighter?”

“I guess so,” Jake chuckles before pulling a bit of a face. “I thought it looked cool in the movies. My ma always said I was a bit of a wild child.”

“Oh, so you find firefighting to be a bit of an adrenaline rush?” You push.

“Well, I—” Jake falters. “I don’t know if I’d say that. I mean it can be, but it’s also…” He trails off, clearly looking for words that don’t seem to be coming to him.

“It’s okay,” you assure, knowing when to move on. “Complicated question. What about the holidays? Are you sad to be working?”

Jake looks infinitely relieved that you’ve changed the subject. “Originally, I was planning on heading home but… things changed and I figured if I was staying here, I might as well be working.” He glances at his watch suddenly and winces. “Is there another time we could do this? I’m sorry, but I really have to get somewhere.”

You nod hastily. “Of course! I’m sorry to keep you. I’ll be here all week so anytime you’re free, you know where to find me.”

Jake lets out a breath of relief. “Thanks. I’ll— I’ll be sure to do that.” He gives you an awkward wave before hastily heading towards the exit. Right as his hand meets the door, Jake pauses, turning back to you with a more sincere smile. “Oh, and don’t worry about Bradley. He’s like that with everyone.”

You watch him leave before sagging in your seat with a soft sigh. If the rest of the firefighters were like Jake then maybe this week wouldn’t be so bad—at the very least, you’d be able to write your article. Your thoughts drift to honeyed brown eyes and that permanent sneer that seems to cement every time it’s shot in your direction. You look down at your notes.

Bradley Bradshaw:

Authority kink

Biting back a smile, you scribble something quickly.

Authority kink (maybe)

join my Bradley Bradshaw taglist here or follow my library @jupitercometgold

check out the rest of the christmas fics!

#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fic #firefighter!bradley #the christmas fics

[themissingmango]

x

#my art #Top Gun Tree!!! #complete with rooster and goose ornaments #this was so much funnnn #top gun fandom #top gun fanart #goose #Maverick #rooster #top gun Christmas #holiday #Christmas tree #aircraft #fighter jets #bradley rooster bradshaw #pete maverick mitchell #🎄

[iceman-maverick]

i saw maverick kissing santa claus

“Pete, honey, I love you, really I do,” She said between her laughter, “but I’m not switching with you. The whole point of Secret Santa is to show someone you care,”

“I don’t want him to know that I care,” Pete hissed, stumbling a bit as he tied his laces.“Because I don’t…care. I just - look, please? I’m begging you,”

“No can do Petey,” She said, smacking a wet kiss on his cheek, “You’re just gonna have to make it work,"

---

AKA Carol decides to spread a little holiday cheer by throwing a Secret Santa party for Maverick, Iceman and the merry rest of the gang (ft. shenangians, matchmaking, and Elvis Presley's christmas album)

part one today, part two tomorrow!

#icemav #top gun 1986 #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun fanfic #tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #carol bradshaw #icemav fic #iceman x maverick #my writing #christmas fic