#bradley bradshaw imagine
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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 3 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: You rendered Bradley speechless and left him wondering if your students were the ones who wanted to know what he looked like or if it was really you who was curious. He wanted to know everything about you, but the urge to ask for more was mingling with his duty to keep things professional. You and he teetered on the edge... until you didn't.
Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley looking hot
Length: 3100 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader
Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist
Bradley found himself homesick in a way he never did before. He still had weeks and weeks of this deployment to go, stuck on the aircraft carrier, endlessly curious about someone he barely knew anything about and a classroom full of kids he'd never met. But he felt like he wanted to know more about you and them.
At least he was too busy now to dwell on the fact that it had been days since the last mail call. He was never one who was lined up, eager to collect something from a loved one. Vanessa and all of his other ex girlfriends never sent him handwritten notes or snacks. He'd gotten sporadic emails in the past, but nothing that made him smile and laugh out loud. Never anything that made him sad when he realized he had reached the end of the note, hoping for more.
He wanted to go back to the lounge and check his email, but he was afraid he'd have nothing new to read. There was really nobody else other than you who would send him anything right now, and he was sure you had something better to do with your time than comment on the photos he'd send of his jet and the engine parts. And even if you had written back, how long could he really keep this conversation with you going? How soon would you run out of interest in his deployment?
Bradley knew he'd be much better at talking to you in person, but how the hell was he supposed to get there? Jesus Christ, you were probably married. You probably already had someone back home wrapped around your fingers, and here he was, still thinking about you.
"Pitiful," he muttered, making his way to the lounge anyway. He would keep it professional with you. One hundred percent. But he still wanted to know if your students got to see the photos and if they had any questions about them.
When he logged into his email account, his heart skipped around a bit when he saw that he had something new from you. Then he opened it up and read it, and his lips parted softly in surprise at what you'd sent.
Thank you for the photos. They were very enlightening. We especially liked the ones where you were showing off your cockpit. Or I did, anyway. The kids liked all of them and started on another list of questions for you. Good luck getting rid of us now.
We were wondering if you could have someone take a picture of you standing in front of your jet. For size comparison purposes. And also because my students would like to know what you look like. Hearing from you makes our day even better.
Bradley read it again. Still surprised, he read it a third time. Were you the one asking for the photo? It seemed like you might be. Or was he just projecting here? Shit. Maybe. He'd been thinking about how he'd respond if you asked him something personal, and this felt like you and he were teetering right on the edge.
You even echoed his own thoughts, but it still made him warm all over to know that you looked forward to hearing from him. That it made your day better when he sent an email. He decided he was going to keep this going as long as he could.
He logged out again and headed to the mess hall for dinner, because there was no point in responding until he had the photo you just asked him for. One where you'd be able to see exactly what every inch of him looked like. As he ate his meatloaf, his thoughts all settled on that one pertinent question: were your students really the ones who were curious about how he looked, or were you? Because it sounded like it could be the latter. He fucking hoped it was. And he fucking hoped you wouldn't be disappointed after tomorrow when he sent you exactly what was asked of him.
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You thought you were ready, but you weren't. Not for this. Not for him. Not even close. Thankfully it was still early enough that none of your students were in the classroom with you, because Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw had responded to your slightly tipsy email from a few nights ago. He sent exactly one photo, and your only response was to softly moan, "Holy hell."
To say he was attractive looking standing there in his flight suit next to the jet with his name on the side of it would have been the understatement of the century. He was hot. Unbelievably hot. Top tier. You shamelessly zoomed in to get an even better look at his face which was complete with a crooked little smile and a fucking mustache.
"Who does he think he is?" you asked the empty room, voice filled with need. "The audacity."
Even his messy, wavy hair looked soft enough for you to want to rub your face and lips against it. Where did that idea come from? You uncrossed and recrossed your legs as the most delightful thoughts filled your mind. You already knew he was sweet, kind, attentive and humble, but now you knew he was easy on the eyes, too. If only you could hear his voice.
After several minutes of uninterrupted gawking, you realized he'd written a few sentences to you as well, addressing you just as he always had. But this felt more personal. Maybe a little intimate.
For reference, I'm 6'1" and 205 pounds. That should give you and your kiddos a good size comparison, yeah? Also, just a little curious myself here.... are you sure they were the only ones who wanted to know what I look like? Or did you want to know, too?
So he called you out. Your whole body felt too hot and too light. You were floating off of your chair even as your heart pounded. You must be two feet in the air by now. He already knew what you looked like, but now you cared more than ever what he thought about you. Because you had a massive crush on your classroom pen pal.
"How embarrassing. You drunk emailed him! How are you supposed to respond to this?" you whispered as you closed your laptop and pressed your fingers to your lips. It was hard to tell if his tone was playful or not. He was smiling in the photo, which made you think that he was. But perhaps he was trying to put a stop to any topic of conversation that could be considered personal.
Then it hit you like a bolt of lightning. No way was this man single. He was handsome. That would have been enough on its own. But he also had an impressive career, all of his hair, and he was tall. And that didn't even scrape the surface of his sweet personality! You couldn't embarrass yourself further. You just couldn't. You wanted him to keep writing to your class, because they were already so attached to him. You couldn't ruin this for them.
When your students came flooding into the room, they led off with the same question they had every morning now. "Did we get anything in the mail from Lieutenant Bradshaw?"
"Not yet," you replied, still trying to decide how to respond to his photo. "But hopefully soon. He did email another picture though."
All of them were immediately headed for your desk, wanting to see what their pen pal looked like. You pressed your lips together, bracing yourself as you opened up that photo again, and then the kids all interjected into your thoughts.
"His jet is so cool!"
"It's huge!"
"He looks exactly how I thought he would!"
"Can he send us more stuff?"
It took you a good, long while to get them all into their seats. Clearly you weren't the only one who was entranced by him. Their questions overflowed, most of which still had to do with the aviation topics you'd been teaching them. Bradley Bradshaw had turned your classroom upside down, in a good way. And the more you thought about it, the more you just wanted to make sure you weren't missing out on something here. This man was better looking than the last three guys you went out with all combined, and he already made you feel tingly inside before you knew that for a fact.
You went home after work and did it again. You drank some wine and logged into your work email account and wrote back to him less than a day after he wrote to you. Part of you recognized that you'd look desperate, but you simply had to know so you could stop thinking about him if necessary. You started typing.
It was definitely, absolutely my students who wanted to know what you look like. It had nothing to do with me. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it. That being said...nice photo. Very nice.
My kids also wanted me to ask you if your spouse or significant other is in the Navy. And they'd like to know how old your kids are if you have any. Once again, just to be clear, I'm only asking these things on their behalf...
"Send," you whispered, doing it before you could stop yourself. Then you were left with your intrusive thoughts and the rest of the wine, ultimately deciding to just go to bed. He wasn't going to respond right away. He was busy working. You just hoped it didn't take too long.
But it did. Days passed. You normally tried not to think about your work email account during the weekends, let alone check it. Saturday was miserable as you logged in almost hourly to check and double check if you had something new from Lieutenant Bradshaw. It was so bad, you ended up initiating a movie night with some of your friends, opting to lock your phone in the center console of your car rather than take it into the theater.
Sunday was no better. You took yourself to the beach for the afternoon to try to read and sunbathe. But there was a group of guys in US NAVY TOP GUN shirts playing football, and you wondered if Bradley ever did this kind of thing with his friends. Or his family. Jesus Christ, why couldn't he just write back and tell you if he had a pretty wife and six adorable kids who loved to play football on the beach with him?
When two of the guys in the TOP GUN shirts purposely threw the football toward your towel and tried to play it off as an accident, you didn't even feel like returning their flirtatious banter. Neither of them had a mustache or soft looking brown hair. Neither of them left you wanting to know more.
You went home and tried so hard not to check your work email, but you failed miserably. But then you were happy you caved, because he wrote back. Bradley Bradshaw actually responded again. And a few seconds later, you were giggling and trying to control the squeal that escaped your lips.
When the mail arrived on the aircraft carrier yesterday, I was one of the first officers in line, and I wasn't disappointed. I got the second box from your class, and I can't wait to start reading and responding to everyone's notes this week. I'll let you know when you've got more mail coming your way.
Since your students seem to be showing quite an interest in my personal life, please let them know I actually don't have a spouse or significant other at all. Nor do I have any kids. Their letters (and your emails, too) are the only ones I'm getting this deployment. No one else has been writing to me. Nobody stateside is waiting for me. I hope that answers their questions to your liking.
And now it's your turn to answer a question for me. Is there a guy in your life who is going to try to beat the crap out of me if I tell you that I think you're gorgeous?
I'll just be waiting impatiently for your response.
Yours Truly,
Lt Bradley Bradshaw
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Bradley was so tired. The kind of bone deep exhaustion that only comes after the completion of a dangerous mission when your adrenaline finally wears off. All he could think about was how badly he wanted to be back at home in his bed in San Diego with a soft, warm body next to his and a sweet voice in his ear. But he was picturing your face and your body, already convinced you'd have the sweetest voice he'd ever heard.
Shit. He needed to focus on what the admirals had to say instead of drift into daydreams.
"No need to report to the strategy room in the morning, Lieutenant," his commanding officer said as Bradley unzipped the top of his flight suit. "Take some time to rest."
He saluted the admiral and walked off toward his bunk and a hot shower. But even as the steamy water eased the ache in his muscles, he thought about how he already knew he wouldn't be able to sleep right now. Not when he still had a few messages from your students to respond to. Not when those notes always made him smile.
This time you'd only included a very short note in the box, but it wasn't typed up and printed out. It was written in your pretty penmanship on a sheet of lined paper.
Lt Bradshaw,
I hope this package finds you well. Please prepare yourself for approximately seven hundred more questions. Thanks again for sharing your time with us.
He didn't mind one bit. In all actuality, he was living for this shit, already thinking about how he could maybe visit your classroom someday soon. Several of the kids asked him if he could. They all asked him to take more pictures of life on the aircraft carrier. Then he laughed for a solid minute over the photo that Jayden sent of his Cocker Spaniel named Vanessa.
But Bradley had purposely been neglecting his email inbox for the last few days. He was too afraid to read your words telling him that you were in fact taken, and that he was stupid for thinking you'd been the one who wanted to know what he looked like. He was rather enjoying the delusion that you might let him tell you how pretty he thought you were over email and maybe someday in person. He decided to respond to the rest of the notes in the box before getting rejected, otherwise it would be too hard to do this.
He finished writing back to Oliver and Cooper and then tucked the box away under his bed before drifting off to sleep while dreaming of his own bed. But the next day, he had literally no work to do. He's been given the entire day off. He hit the gym and avoided the married woman like the plague. Then he ate lunch and contemplated going back to the gym again, but his feet carried him to the lounge instead. At the very least, he promised you that he'd let you know when you had mail on the way so the kids could get excited. He should take the time to tell you he'd be sending more responses to your class by air mail.
Somehow Bradley had convinced himself so thoroughly that you were in a relationship, he almost couldn't fathom anything else. But there was a new message from you in his inbox, and it felt like a gift when he opened and read it.
Lt Bradshaw,
I must say, I was surprised to find out that my emails and the letters from my class are the only ones making their way to you. Not that I'm complaining. Not one bit. I just find it hard to believe that you don't have a lot of interested parties hoping for a chance to be the one you think about when you're deployed and all alone.
My last boyfriend didn't like it when I talked about my fourth graders. He didn't really see any value in what I do for a living. He would have never taken the time to read something they wrote let alone answer their questions individually. So no, there's nobody who would be upset with you for making me feel like there are butterflies permanently living in my belly now. If you want to tell me you think I'm gorgeous, I'm certainly not going to stop you.
Here's my personal, non school affiliated email address. Just in case you feel like using it. If not, you can keep responding here, and I can take the hint that we went far enough.
I hope you're doing well and staying safe.
Frantically, Bradley checked the date and time stamp. "Fuck," he growled, his fingers not quite able to keep up with his brain when he realized you'd sent this to him days ago. More than five days ago! "Shit. Fuck!" He had been keeping you waiting! As soon as he got his hands working at the same speed as his thoughts, he copied and pasted your personal email address and started a new thread like his life depended on it.
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You were just curling up with a cup of sleepy time tea after a long day at work, wishing someone would put you out of your misery, when your phone vibrated on the couch cushion next to your leg. You were half tempted to ignore it, reasoning that it was probably time to accept the fact that Bradley Bradshaw already lost interest in you and delete his photos from your downloads folder. You should learn how to stop embarrassing yourself.
Then you glanced down and saw that you had a new email. It was from a now familiar sender. It had been sent to your personal account. You immediately scrambled to unlock your phone and read it.
Hey, Gorgeous,
I'd like to take it further.
Yours Truly,
Bradley Bradshaw
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What the fuck, Bradley, you smooth man! Take it further, take it further, take it further! I love how impatient they get when they want to hear from each other. Now go ahead and get a little more personal. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who sent me messages and asks about this fic.
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Between Friends
Summary: Bradley and you don’t talk about that Spring Break. But a single question asked during a night out at the Hard Deck might just change things between the two of you forever.
Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader
Length: 11K
Warning: smut (including loss of virginity), brief mention of underage drinking, and college!bradley in a backwards hat
(Author's note: Happy Birthday Jordan! I wrote this just for you! Look at me keeping secrets from you! Enjoy!)
𝐍𝐎𝐖
Rooster couldn’t control his bouncing leg.
That night at the Hard Deck had started out like any other: good music, good drinks, good people. Over the course of the evening, he’d found himself seated between you and Bob in a lopsided circle with the rest of the Daggers around a few tall tables that had been pushed together just shooting the shit.
It was all fun and games until swapping stories about embarrassing middle school moments turned into cringing over first kiss stories turned into Seresin grinning like a shark asking about how everyone’s first time went down.
Rooster felt his pulse kick up with every collective laugh and groan as his friends went one by one sharing how they’d lost their virginities. Because with each passing story, it meant that you were one person closer to going. And for the first time in his life- even after over two decades of friendship- he didn’t know what your answer was going to be.
So he is just as shocked as his teammates are when you tentatively reveal, “So, um, my first time was with Rooster.” He doesn’t miss the way all his friends’ heads snap towards him.
All eyes are on the two of you, and you’re pointedly looking anywhere but him.
Rooster had been anxiously waiting to hear the story of your first official time, the one that was with someone who wasn’t him. He didn’t realize that you still considered him your first. He’d figured that part of your history had long been overwritten by whoever had been lucky enough to catch your eye and make your heart race in a romantic way.
The two of you had never talked about it in the after.
Not once, not ever.
He didn’t care that people knew, he just wasn’t expecting it.
Jake starts the group out of its stunned silence by slapping a heavy hand on top of the table, nearly sending some bottles to the floor, “I knew it! I knew y’all couldn’t have been friends all this time and not have tried it out at least once.”
“Jesus Christ, dude, chill,” Javy mutters. He’s always been the better of the two about reading the room.
Trying to spare you from being put on the spot even more than you already were now, Rooster mumbles through the way he’d lost his to a girl from his AP Econ class after a playoff baseball game.
He stares at the way you’re nervously picking at the label of the Blue Moon he’d grabbed for you when he went to get a refill of his own. He can practically hear the way your brain is buzzing. He wonders if you wish you could take back the words from where they are sitting on the table with the collection of bottles and peanut shells for everyone to see.
Bob being the team player that he is starts talking about how he’d lost his one summer in college to another camp counselor, going into more detail than he’s ever given before, probably trying to redirect the attention to himself to give the two of you a moment to regroup.
Rooster makes a mental note to tell Penny to put all of Bob’s cream sodas from now on on his own tab.
He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do here. Or where to look. Or where to put his hands. He wants to talk to you, but there’s no good way for him to go about it without drawing even more attention to the two of you.
You were supposed to be going on a first date tonight, but he’d talked you into canceling to hang out with him instead. He likes having all of your attention on him. And maybe he’s been a little selfish with you, because he doesn’t like to share you with anyone else. You’ve always been his best friend.
Rooster likes that he gets to talk to you whenever he wants now, and that it doesn’t feel like a never-ending game of catch up anymore. In the year since the Uranium mission, he’d felt like all the fragmented pieces of his life had finally come together. He’d reconnected with Mav, he was living in the same city as his best friend, and he had a place he could finally call home.
He didn’t just want the highlights with you, he wanted everything in between too. There’s no more distance due to time zones and scheduling times to call because now you only live 20 minutes away from him. And the next time he comes home from a deployment, he knows he’ll get to look forward to seeing you there waiting for him.
He feels like he’s learned so much more about the grown-up version of you over the last year than he has in the last ten.
Jake jumps in barely a breath after Bob finishes telling his story. “Well, we all know it’s not the first who matters, but who was the best.” Rooster doesn’t trust the gleam in his eyes or the sharp smile on his face. “Since Bradshaw cut you off before, how’s about you go first this time, darlin’. You can tell us about who knocked your socks off. Maybe this time he’ll let you finish, if you know what I mean.”
It’s thinly veiled snooping disguised as chivalry, and it doesn’t fool anyone. Nat’s eyes dart to him briefly, trying to get a read on him.
He’d been 21 at the time. And while he knows more now that he did then, he also knows his name isn’t going to be coming out of your mouth for a second time tonight.
Rooster takes a sip of his beer, needing something to do.
He knows you’ve been with other people. You’d lived with your ex for over a couple years, for fuck's sake. But it was like an unspoken agreement between the two of you to not talk about your sex lives with each other.
His leg starts bouncing again and he realizes he really doesn’t want to hear this. Not because of his ego, but because he doesn’t know what to do about the knot that’s formed in his stomach.
Your mouth opens and closes a couple times before you speak, “That title would also go to Rooster.” The admission is soft, but sure.
Where his heart had been pounding before, now it feels like it had stopped completely.
It’s been 13 years since that Spring Break. 13 years and he’s still your best?
Barely five minutes ago, he hadn’t known where to look. But now? Now he couldn’t stop staring at you.
He just didn’t understand why you still wouldn’t look at him back.
𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊, 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟎
When you’d floated the idea by Bradley about visiting him at UVA for Spring Break during your weekly phone call, you’d been braced for the disappointment of him already having plans. It was his Senior year, it wouldn’t surprise you if he wanted to go out with a bang and make the most of it. Especially since he would belong to the Navy soon enough.
But he’d taken you by surprise when he started enthusiastically listing off all the places he wanted to show you, planning out your trip like a well-seasoned travel agent before you’d even booked a plane ticket.
You’d started looking up airfare before you’d even hung up the phone. And thirty minutes later you had a confirmation email flagged in your inbox after elatedly charging that aisle seat to the credit card you only used for emergencies.
It had been close to a year since you’d last seen him. He usually spent his Winter Break with your family, but this year he’d stayed on campus for the holidays and it was the longest the two of you had ever been apart since you’d first met him when you were 8.
And maybe that’s why it took you so long to spot him in the Arrivals area of the Charlottesville-Albemarle Airport.
You’ve always prided yourself in being able to pick Bradley out of a crowd anywhere, but in your cursory glance you hadn’t recognized the tall, broad guy with the UVA shirt pulled taut across his chest and wearing a baseball hat backward on his head. It wasn’t until your third searching pass that you’d caught the lips that were quirked up in amusement and those familiar brown eyes trained on you as he leaned ever-so-casually against the faux wood paneling on the wall waiting for you to notice him.
He’d filled out in the months since you’d last seen him. He was more toned than you remembered him being with definition in places where there hadn’t been before. His face had more distinct angles and less baby fat cushioned curves. Still a bit boyish, but he was well on his way to looking like a man.
Bradley raised his hand like he was going to wave, but then he’d mimicked casting a fishing line in your direction and reeling it in. And it was so endearingly stupid- so him- that you couldn’t help but take the bait and made your way towards him with the biggest grin on your face.
You’d ignored the jittery flutter in your stomach as you’d weaved between people and luggage. You’ve never been nervous around your best friend before. There was something that had on your mind a lot as the days to your visit inched closer, but you’d shoved that out of your mind, because you were finally standing in front of him in person for the first time in months.
“Hey, kid,” he’d greeted you, taking your bag, “Charlottesville must have known you were coming, because she’s going to be sunny for you all week.” As soon as you were within arm’s reach, he tugged you right into his chest for a hug. You could feel the unspoken I missed you in the way he squeezed you just that bit tighter before releasing you.
Then he was dropping an arm over your shoulders and steering you towards the exit and driving you into town in the beat-up car he’d bought after selling his prized Montero, the car that Mav had given him for his birthday.
You’re only there for a week and Bradley doesn’t waste a single moment of it.
After dropping your things off in his dorm room, he takes you straight to campus where he gives you the Official Bradley Bradshaw Certified UVA Tour. He buys you lunch from one of the food trucks in the Amphitheater “for sustenance” before taking you to see the highlights. You start with the Rotunda and then the academic village, making a special pitstop at the Whispering Wall for you to tell it a secret. And then he takes you on a more historical tour, like showing you the exact route he used to streak The Lawn and pointing out the place he’d puked after his 21st birthday.
It’s clear he’d put so much thought into your visit because it seems like there is never a down moment. By the end of the third day you’re more surprised that you don't wake up every morning with a printed itinerary on your pillow.
He sneaks you into the Slaughter Rec Center to rock climb, claiming he had a person on the inside with the right connections. But really from what you could tell, the pretty girl at the check-in counter clearly had a crush on him. He takes you to the batting cages he likes to go to before Dead Week, and spends the time there equal parts making fun of your power swing and trying to fix it.
You get your revenge the next day standing outside of the imposing columns and massive doors to the Fralin Art Museum. Skeptically eyeing the sculpture in the front of the building that kind of looked like a giant wisdom tooth, you mentioned, “I didn’t realize you’d become such a patron of the cultural arts.”
“Hey now, I like artsy shit,” he’d said, only mildly affronted.
You snorted at that. “Is there an exhibit on beer pong and blunt rolling you wanted to see?” Through the window you’d spotted some large landscape oil paintings in ornate gilded frames and carved marble busts of what you assumed were probably of some of the Founding Fathers.
“You just missed that one, it was last month,” Bradley lobbed back, opening the door for you.
“What a pity,” you’d said with a dramatic sigh, “Guess we’ll have to settle for some tasteful nudes instead.”
“If we’re lucky,” he’d muttered under his breath, as you passed under his arm.
And then you’d felt the corners of your mouth kick up.
Turning around you’d pressed your finger to his chest, whispering so the person behind the ticket desk didn’t hear you, “Twenty bucks says you don’t make it thirty minutes in there.”
He narrowed his eyes, taking in your sly grin, “You’re on, kid.”
It’s the easiest $20 you’ve ever made.
The two of you call it a truce only after he tips your kayak into the still chilly Rivanna River.
Later that night, he takes you to a party on “Mad Bowl” that one of his frat friends was hosting. The backyard was all strung up with red and green Christmas lights like they had been too lazy to take them down after the holidays and decided it added to the outdoor ambiance instead of packing them away.
He was still just as protective over you as he was back in high school. Spending the whole night keeping an eye on you and handing you drinks that he’d uncapped himself using the opener that he had on his keychain, the one that still had the little fighter jet charm you’d given him ages ago dangling from it.
The days pass all too quickly as he shows you all of his favorite spots.
You knew UVA wasn’t where he’d originally wanted to be- where he thought he’d be- but you were happy that he seemed happy here.
But in between the late-night microwave ramen and movie watching and crossing off all the things on Bradley’s Spring Break To-Do List, there’d been something you’d been wanting to talk to him about. But you were having so much fun with him, you’d missed your best friend over those long months apart, and you didn’t want to ruin the time you had left with him here.
It lingered at the back of your mind like a phantom hair that you can feel, but can’t ever seem to brush off no matter how many times you attempt to. You felt like you were waiting for the right time that you weren’t sure would ever come. And if you were being honest, you weren’t entirely sure you would even be brave enough to ask if the time came.
The two of you had woken up way before the sun this morning.
If anyone other than Bradley had asked you to wake up before 5 AM to go hike to watch the sunrise, you would have laughed at them. But because it was Bradley, you’d set the alarm without comment. Even though he did have to gently pry you out of his roommate’s bed- with the fresh sheets he told you he bought especially for your visit- and lace up your shoes for you.
The views at Humpback Rock had been worth the hour hike up to the outcrop of craggy rocks. The sunrise painted them a stunning shade of soft orange as the rays illuminated evergreen covered hills and valleys that extended in front of you to the skyline. You and Bradley watched it in silence, shoulders pressed against each other as you took it all in.
You’re cozied up on your bed for the week, flipping through a book you’d brought with you, but hadn’t touched at all until now when Bradley comes back from the showers. His hair is still damp and the ends are starting to curl a bit.
He drops a Styrofoam cup of coffee on the nightstand next to you.
You hadn’t been sure what rooming with him would be like, the two of you together 24/7 since his roommate had left to go home for the break. But it felt like you were two kids at sleepaway camp getting away with mischief rather than two broke college students only pretending to get away with mischief.
He sits down at the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his thighs, “So.”
“So?” you repeat, blowing on the hot coffee before taking a sip.
“Are you going to tell me what’s been up with you?”
You wince, and it’s not because the coffee tastes like tar.
“What do you mean?” you try to ask casually.
Bradley gives you a look that says you don’t fool me, kid. “You’ve been squirrely. I didn’t want to press it, but I can tell there’s something on your mind.” He takes a sip of his own milky battery acid. “Are classes going better since you switched majors?”
You nod, looking anywhere else other than at him.
“How are things with your Dad?”
You offer him a shrug.
He sighs your name in exasperation. You can tell he is trying to tamper his frustration at your lack of cooperation.
“Is it a guy?” Bradley tries again.
You swear you feel your heart stop, because you knew what you wanted to ask him, but you didn’t know how he was going to take it.
You fiddle with a string on his roommate’s comforter. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” you admit, tentatively, “But I’m nervous.”
Bradley’s eyebrows pull together as he sets his coffee aside, “C’mon, it’s just me. You can talk to me about anything.”
“It’s more of a question.” One you’re still deflecting from asking.
“Ok, well you know you can ask me anything.” His tiny dorm room feels even smaller as the two of you try to read the other’s face.
Taking a deep breath, you ask the question that’s been rattling around in your brain for weeks.
“Bradley, I was wondering if you’d be my first?”
Less than ten words. That’s all it takes to tilt Bradley’s world off its axis.
He’s loved getting to show you around UVA this week. It wasn’t where he thought he’d end up, but he hadn’t lost sight of where he was going. He was going to be a Naval Aviator one way or another. He just also got to have a normal college experience too, one he’d been excited to share with you.
Bradley had originally been invited to go stay with one of his friends at his family’s beach house, but when you called and asked about coming to visit Charlottesville, it was an easy choice for him. He’d pick you every time.
It had been even better getting to cross off some of the things on the bucket list he’d made for his Senior Year with you in tow, like the hike he’d taken you on this morning.
He loves the views from up there and thought it would be something you’d like too, but he’d never done the hike early enough to catch the sunrise before. It was actually something he was planning on going the morning of graduation as a symbolic way to end his time at UVA, but getting to do it with you was special in its own way.
And while he’d caught you lost in thought more than a few times over the last few days as he showed you around, he never in a million years would have ever expected you to ask him that.
Bradley knows all the words you just used, but they don’t make sense to him in that order.
His brain is working in overdrive trying to figure out if there is any possible way he could have misinterpreted you.
“Your first…”
You take another deep breath and tip your chin up in resolve before looking him dead in the eye, there’s so much vulnerability reflected in them, “I haven’t had sex before, Bradley. And I’m really hoping that my first time can be with you.”
Bradley wants to tell you to put your Styrofoam cup down because he’s worried the tight grip you have on it might crush it, but he feels like the wind has been knocked out of him.
He didn’t realize when his leg started bouncing until he sees you glance down at it.
Shooting to his feet and off his bed, he goes to lean against his recently decluttered desk. There’s too much restless energy coursing through him to just sit like he isn’t completely reeling.
“Shouldn’t you want to do this with someone special? Like with rose petals and all that shit?” He scrubs a hand over his face. Rose petals and all that shit? God, he sounds like such a fucking dumbass, but he’s struggling to keep up.
And if he’s being entirely honest, he’s pretty surprised to learn you’re still a virgin. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but he knows you’ve had at least one serious boyfriend since you’ve gone to college. He figured that you got asked out all the time. He saw the way that some of the guys in his buddy’s frat were looking at the pretty girl with the dimples and big smile.
The girl who just asked him to be her first.
He hates the way your shoulders have slumped forward, like you’re trying not to cave in on yourself, “So, you don’t want to?”
“I didn’t say that.” His answer takes him by surprise.
The only other sound in the room other than his pounding heart is the whir of the air circulating in his dorm.
“Would it help to make a pro con list?” you offer, less than helpfully with a little shrug.
“Jesus Christ,” Bradley mutters under his breath, looking up at the speckled ceiling trying to decode the flecks like tea leaves. “She’s cracking jokes like she didn’t ask me to make her come.”
“Technically, I didn’t say anything about that. I just asked you to be my first.”
“I’m not taking your virginity and not giving you an orgasm,” he states, and your eyes get wide. He runs his hands through his hair. “Sex makes things complicated, kid. We’ve got a good friendship.”
You sit up straighter on his roommate’s bed and bring your knees to your chest. It exposes the backs of your thighs and he has to shake the mental images of skin on skin out of his head.
There’s a look on your face that tells him you feel ridiculous even asking him, “Do you think you’re going to fall in love with me or something?”
“No,” Bradley says, honestly.
He knows you’re just trying to make a point.
The two of you have been friends for over a decade. He knows he cares about you- he always has- but he couldn’t imagine what anything other than just friendship would look like with you.
You nod in agreement, like you had been anticipating the answer before you’d even asked him the question.
“And do you think I’m going to fall in love with you?” you ask, your head tilting to the side.
He doesn’t even blink, “You can do better than me.”
And he means it.
Even if there was something more between the two of you, you’ve always been too good for him. And knowing him, he’d find a way to fuck it up. You’re the last person in the world he’d ever want to hurt. He’d let you down before, he doesn’t want to do it ever again.
You shoot him a disappointed look, like you don’t like hearing him say that about himself. And he’s oddly touched that you’re defending him against himself.
“You’d literally be doing me a favor.”
Bradley is still surprised that he hasn’t ended this conversation yet. The two of you were supposed to go to the movies, but that definitely wasn’t happening now.
“I’m not saying no,” he says, “But I need you to help me understand. Why me? Why now?”
“Bradley, I want it to be with you because there’s no one else I’ll ever feel as comfortable with as I do with you,” you explain.
He watches as you unfold yourself and climb off the bed, coming to stand in front of him. You gingerly reach out and put your hand on his forearm, like you don’t want to startle him. Not that he’d be able to move anyways since it feels like the soles of his feet are cemented to the floor.
“I keep waiting for it to not feel like such a big thing, but every time it seems like it’s going to happen, I freeze. And I know you’d take care of me, and I’m not talking about orgasms.” You stumble over the word a bit, not fully meeting his eyes as you say it. “It’s scary enough as a girl and I’m worried I’m going to be too in my head with anyone else. But I also don’t want to look back and have any regrets, and I know I wouldn’t have any with you.”
The mention of regrets makes his stomach twinge. His heart feels like it’s hammering in his chest. He doesn’t know what to say.
You are looking at him with such open sincerity. He has never been good with talking about his feelings, he’s always been the type to bottle things up, while you have always worn your heart on your sleeve. It was just another way that you were braver than him.
“I know it’s a lot,” you say, letting go of him to take a step back, like you want to give him breathing room, “So if it’s too big of an ask. Or if it’s not something you’re comfortable with-”
Bradley shakes his head cutting you off, “It’s not that at all, kid. I just haven’t done this before.” Your eyebrow scrunches together in confusion. “I mean, I have,” he corrects, “But it’s not the same. All the girls I’ve been with had already had experience. And if we were going to do this, I would want to make sure it’s as nice for you as it can be.”
“So you’d be my first and I’d be yours? Well, kind of.” You give him a little smile, it’s a shy but hopeful thing. There’s only a hint of your dimples, but it’s enough. And he feels that practical part of him that had been holding back soften at the sight of it.
He doesn’t think he’s ever said no to you, excluding the times you tried to get him to give you his beer at the house parties he took you to in high school, and that was more out of self-preservation from a healthy fear of your mom than anything else.
When you wanted to learn how to drive a stick shift? He took you to the abandoned parking lot, it didn’t matter that you didn’t have your learner’s permit yet. When you wanted to learn how to throw a punch? He was making sure you knew not to tuck your thumb under your fingers, so that you didn’t break your own thumb instead of someone’s nose.
He’s always had your back and you’ve had his. That’s how it was between the two of you.
You’ve already said it, but he needs to hear it again, “You really want to do it?”
“I really want it to be you, Bradley. I really want to do this with you. I trust you the most.”
He’s always been willing to help you with anything you’ve ever asked of him, why should this be any different? What’s a couple orgasms between friends?
“Ok,” Bradley nods. If it’s to reassure you or himself, he couldn’t say. “I’ll do it. We can do it.”
Your eyebrows raise in surprise, like you were fully prepared for him to let you down gently, “Really?”
You didn’t ask for his why he was agreeing, but he was going to give it to you anyway.
“I don’t think I’ve told you this, but I lost mine to Samantha Prescod after the game against Centennial that got us a spot at State that year,” he waits until he sees the recognition cross your face before continuing, “But I had also just learned about my mom’s diagnosis and I was trying to find anything I could do to not think about it.” He rubs at a spot underneath his collarbone, it never got any easier talking about his mom. “I think she assumed that I’d done it before, because we didn’t really talk about it. She was there and into it, so it just sort of happened. Actually, I’m pretty sure she only slept with me because she wanted to make her ex-boyfriend jealous, because they got back together like three days later.”
It’s probably for the best that Samantha Prescod lives on the other side of the country now because you look livid. Your eyes spark with anger and disbelief on his behalf.
“It was years ago, it’s fine, kid” he shrugs, trying to brush off your concern. “But if I had a do-over, I don’t know if I’d make the same choice again. And that’s not something I’d ever want for you.” You deserve the rose petals, but he’ll do his best for you. “So we can do it, but I have one condition.”
The relief on your face and the way the tension in your shoulder releases only solidifies his decision.
“Tell me,” you say, taking a half-step towards him, “I want you to be comfortable too.”
Bradley pushes off his desk and meets you the rest of the way, “If you even think you’re feeling uncomfortable- about any of it- I need you to tell me. And we’ll stop and figure out where to go from there. If it’s a change of position, if it’s a full stop and order pizza instead, we’ll do that.” He pauses and reaches out to tip your chin up. “I’ll do whatever you need, got it?”
You throw your arms around him, and his wrap around you just as easily. Your hair smells like the travel sized shampoo he’d picked up for you, figuring you wouldn’t want to use his 2-in-1. You murmur your thank you into his shirt followed by a fuck Samantha Prescod that makes him squeeze you just a bit tighter to him in affection.
When you step back and look at him, your lips twitch upwards, “What’s with the look, Bradshaw? Don’t tell me you’re going to lie back and think of England?”
That makes him chuckle, your joke lightening the mood in only the way that you can do. He rolls his eyes in equal parts exasperation and fondness.
“God, I haven’t been this nervous since I lost my own virginity. I was so stressed I was going to blow my load in two pumps and lose my street cred.”
You snort and send him a smirk, “Well, you must have done just fine. I overheard some glowing reviews in the girl’s bathroom on more than one occasion.”
“I maybe lasted ten trusts, but I had the good sense to eat her out after,” he admits, and then tacks on for good measure, “I’ve gotten better since then.”
“What a stud,” you tease.
This is easier, this feels like the two of you. This should be fun, it shouldn’t feel serious. He can make it good for you.
You look up at him shyly from under your lashes, “So how do we do this?”
He feels like he only just wrapped his head around the idea of it, but now he was facing the very real possibility of seeing you very naked very soon.
“You want to do it now?” Bradley blinks.
“I mean, if you’re up for it.” You scrunch your nose when you realize you’ve made a terrible double entendre. “No pun intended, I promise.”
He wipes his hands on his pants.
“You sure?” he asks again.
“I’m sure, Bradley. As long as you are too.”
He nods, “Then I guess we just…”
He’s not sure where he was going to go with that. But he’s spared from being roasted by you for making some sure to be lame birthday suit joke because you’re untying the bow on the soft lounge shorts you’d thrown on after your shower from the hike, and all the words get trapped in his throat.
You don’t look at Bradley as you slide your shorts down your legs. And you definitely don’t look at him when you pull your shirt over your head, leaving you in only a soft green mesh bra and your cotton underwear. They’re mismatched, but sex with Bradley wasn’t originally on the Spring Break To-Do List agenda for today.
In fact, you hadn’t even been sure you were going to go through with asking him until he brought up the point that he knew you had something on your mind because you apparently had no poker face.
While it felt like you had a swarm of butterflies whirling in your stomach, you also knew wholeheartedly that this was the right choice for you. Everything he had said had solidified that for you.
You weren’t sure how you were ever going to thank him for this, but you had a lifetime of friendship with Bradley to figure it out.
His room cast in the soft afternoon light, the blinds only partly closed. There are little streaks of gold that line the plaid comforter on his bed. He’d been right, Charlottesville had stayed sunny just for you.
As you climb into it and situate yourself against his pillows, you can help but notice just how much his bed smells like him. It’s not the spicy scent you associated with the High School version of him. The woodsy and warm scent embedded in the threads of his sheets suits this grown up version of him.
You feel equal parts overdressed and underdressed in your bra and underwear. You know the latter are going to come off eventually, so you make a split-second decision to just take them off yourself under his covers. The idea of Bradley helping you to pull them off later seems like it would be too intimate based on the way the thought of it makes your cheeks heat up.
It’s practical, you’re being practical, you think to yourself.
You chance a peek at him and are surprised to see that he hasn’t budged an inch. It’s almost like he is waiting for you to get completely settled before he dares to move a muscle. His eyes are trained on the pile of your clothes on the floor, he looks lost in thought.
“Bradley?”
The sound of your voice seems to kickstart him into action.
He shucks off his shirt in that kind of reckless way that seems to be ingrained in boys and then unbuttons his pants. You’re torn between feeling like you should give him privacy and wanting to watch. What you were expecting is the way he takes the time to pick his clothes up before folding them over the back of the chair at his desk.
Your mouth goes dry as you take in the sight of his body, the diffused light perfectly outlines the shape of him. His broad shoulders are rounded with the muscles he’s gained from whatever exercises the NROTC has been putting him through. Your eyes dip down to his defined chest and over the ridges of his abs. You’ve seen him in swim trunks plenty of times, but seeing the way the muscles of his thick thighs fill out the black boxer briefs he was wearing was entirely new to you.
Bradley approaches you and then pauses as he bends down to collect your pile of clothes on the floor, his hand hesitating only for a second when he reaches for your underwear. He drapes all of your things on top of his on the chair and makes his way back to you.
The gesture makes you melt a little like a soft serve ice cream cone on a summer afternoon.
You lift the corner of the cover for Bradley and he climbs in next to you. You move closer to the wall, trying to make more room for the bulk of him in his small bed, and he shifts in even closer into you until your bodies pressed tight against one another. The curves and angles of the two of you slotting together like pieces of a puzzle.
It feels like the two of you are teetering there on the edge of something. You both know exactly where it’s going, but are unsure of how to make it from Point A to Point B. Both waiting on the other person to make the first move.
He rests his warm hand on your stomach, the muscles there jumping on their own under his touch in anticipation. Your faces are close since you’re sharing his pillow. His brown eyes are searching yours, probably looking for any sign of hesitation that you don’t feel.
“Tell me how you’re feeling.” It’s not a question, but a request.
“Overwhelmed,” you admit, “But in a good way.” He runs his palm lightly up your stomach and back down, soothingly.
“Good, that’s good,” Bradley says, clearing his throat, “You’re supposed to feel a little ‘overwhelmed, but in a good way.’” You feel your lips pull up at his gentle teasing.
He smiles softly at you. His face has always been so familiar to you. The pink from his scars have finally faded, but you wonder when his eyes start crinkling around the corners.
You let go of the comforter to run a finger down the top of his nose, “I don’t know how this has stayed so straight.” He’d been in more than a couple fights in his teen years, including one that had sent him through a sliding glass door.
“Probably the combination of a little luck and the fact that none of those guys could throw a punch,” Bradley smirks. He shifts on his side, propping himself up on an elbow looking down at you, still running his hand along your stomach. “What have you done so far?”
His fingertips circle your bellybutton and your stomach swoops like it’s on the swing carousel ride at the fair.
“Some over the clothes stuff…” you stammer. You’re having trouble focusing because all your attention is on his big hand and how it feels against your oversensitive skin. “And I have a vibrator, but ah…”
You’re so keenly aware of his hand. With every lazy circle he makes, he has you wondering if this is going to be the one where he finally moves his hand lower. That part of you in flutters in expectation because you know it’s coming.
You let out a shaky huff when his fingers trails back up your stomach.
“What is it?” Bradley’s hand stops moving. “What are you thinking?”
“Honestly?” you say, trying not to squirm, “I’m getting really horny and you keep teasing me.”
He presses his lips together like he’s trying not to laugh at your overshare, and there’s amusement in his eyes.
“You know, some people call it foreplay,” he drawls. You’d roll your eyes but his fingertips are by your bellybutton again and you want him to keep going. “You ready for more?” You nod a few times because if he doesn’t touch you soon you might just crawl out of your skin. “Ok, gonna stop ‘teasing’ you now.”
This time his hand doesn’t stop at your bellybutton, it keeps moving down, down.
You stutter over a breath when Bradley’s fingers touch your clit. You feel yourself melt a little further into his mattress. He’s making easy circles, letting you get used to someone’s fingers other than your own on the most sensitive part of you. Your hands are clutching tightly to his comforter, unsure of what else to do with them.
“Spread your legs a little wider for me,” he murmurs. You feel your face heat up. He’d just given you a direction, but it sounds almost indecent coming out of his mouth.
You shift, moving your legs apart further for him, until he secures your left between his own, opening you up even more. You know you’re wet and now he does too. Bradley’s fingers slide easily over you as he increases the pressure on your clit. You can feel the intensity of his gaze on you watching for your reaction as he figures out what you like the most.
It doesn’t take him long to learn your body. You don’t know whether to be impressed with him or embarrassed with yourself at how quickly he’s worked you up.
Your breathing feels so loud in your ears in the quiet room, every breath and sigh is amplified. There’s a certain thrill in not knowing how he’s going to touch you next, your own fingers pale in comparison now.
His warm breath coasts down the side of your neck causing you to shiver at the sensation. It makes goosebumps break out along your arms and your nipples pull taut.
He notices. Of course he notices.
“Are you cold?” His voice is low in your ear.
“No, I-” Oh god, you’re right there. “B-bradley, I’m-” You’ve made yourself orgasm plenty of times, but you’ve never shared that part of yourself with anyone else before. No one knows what you sound like or what you look like when you come. But now, Bradley was going to have the piece of you too. A whine escapes you without your permission.
“It’s ok, kid, I’ve got you.”
You’re seeking and searching, but it’s Bradley’s fingers that have the answer.
And you come with your stomach twitching and hips jerking as he murmurs praise in your ear.
His fingers slow down, featherlight on your clit, but your heart is still racing when he rasps, “There’s one, you up for another?”
Bradley loves that moment during sex when he hears that first gasp or moan. He loves learning what sounds of satisfaction he can pull from his partner. He loves knowing he earned it. But he never in his life could have ever anticipated hearing those sounds from you.
In his bed. Because of him.
He didn’t expect the lick of heat that curled up his spine at the shape of your legs and the curve of your ass as you were stepping out of your shorts. He’d never seen anything so strangely endearing as it was watching you shimmy your underwear off under the shield of his covers.
Every hitch in your breath made his blood run hotter in his veins. He was trying to control his cock, but he’d started getting hard the second you’d pulled your shirt off. Your bra was some kind of sheer thing that left nothing to the imagination, and while he wasn’t trying to check you out- because that’s not how it was between the two of you- he couldn’t help the way his eyes flickered down.
You’re slippery, wet, and warm. And he knows he can make you come again.
“Do you want me to use my fingers now?”
You crack an eye open at him, it’s the first time you’ve opened your eyes since he first touched you. Your eyes are bright in that way that only comes with an orgasm. “I thought you already were.”
“Such a smartass,” he grins.
Bradley changes the unhurried circles he’d been making on your clit to the upstroke that made your hips jerk up into his hand the first time he’d tried it. The little noises you’re making have him fighting the urge to grind himself against you for some relief of his own. He’s still got your knee tucked between his own; where there had been a hint of polite space between your bodies, the way you’re writhing now has him pressed up against your hip.
You gasp, breathily, “Oh, you’re hard.” The disbelief is evident in your voice, but it’s the look in your eyes that he doesn’t know what to make of, something like surprise.
He’s been trying to be a gentleman, this is about you and not him. There might not be anything romantic happening between the two of you, but this was hot and he was more than a little turned on. And he knows you are too because he can feel how wet you are under his fingers.
“’Course I am,” Bradley says, nudging his nose against your temple, “I’ve got a pretty girl in my bed half naked.” He didn’t want you to feel like you were in this on your own, so he lightly rocks against you. He wants you to feel him, he wants you to know he is into this too. “Are you ready more?”
“I’m ready, I want more,” you confirm, wrapping your hand around his bicep.
Your breath hitches as he teases you with just the tip of his finger.
He’s been told before he has big hands and thick fingers, he’s always taken it as a compliment in the past, but now he’s scanning your face for any trace of discomfort as he sinks one into you.
Your eyebrows twitch then smooth out and your mouth drops open as he starts pumping his finger into you in a smooth rhythm.
“That feels nice,” you sigh, airily.
He knows you like it when your hips tip up just a fraction. His comforter is bunched around your waist and your nipples are peaked against the see-through fabric of your bra. He gets his thumb on your clit and you whimper as you tentatively roll your hips against his fingers.
Bradley hums his approval, “Atta girl. There you go, find what feels good for you.” His voice sounds low even to his own ears, a throaty rumble. He feels you clench around his fingers and it sets his pulse racing. It’s a piece of information he tucks away for himself.
He’s gentle on your clit, but now that he knows you’re into it he’s setting a more purposeful pace with his fingers.
You’ve got your bottom lip pinned between your teeth, like you’re trying to swallow down your sounds. He didn’t realize how much he liked hearing these new sounds from you until you started trying to muffle them. On the next slide of his finger into you, he knows exactly what he’s looking for.
You suck in a sharp breath of surprise when he finds it.
“Is that the right spot, kid?” He sounds so smug. You curse and your hand clutches at his shoulder. “You want to try a second finger?” he murmurs into your ear.
“Yes,” you rock into his hand, “Yes, please.”
“Whatever you want, Miss Manners.” His chest feels like he’s taken a shot of Fireball. “You’re so polite when you’re trying to get your way.”
“I’m always polite,” you challenged weakly, pressing your head further into his pillow.
“Mhm,” he indulges, fondly, “You’re the sweetest girl I know.”
And then he fills you with two fingers.
“Jesus, Bradley,” you gasp, offering more of yourself to him.
Your nails dig into the muscle of his shoulder as he lets your whimpers and whines guide his hands.
The two of you have your eyes fixed on the way the tendons of the visible part of his forearm are flexing before it disappears under the covers as he works you.
Bradley curls his fingers into that spongy part of you and your hand flies to his wrist, gripping him tight. It makes him pause, worried that he might have pushed you too far too fast.
“No, no. D-don’t stop,” you plead, desperately, “I’m so close. Keep going, please.” You squeeze his wrist encouragingly.
“Sorry, sorry,” he soothes. He focuses his efforts on that spot again now that he knows you weren’t wanting him to slow down, but rather trying to hold him in place. His fingers inside of you and his thumb on your clit working in tandem to get you there again.
“I just- yes. Like that. Oh fuck. Keep doing that. Oh my god. Please, Bradley.”
He’s heard you say his name a lot of different ways, but never like this.
Your back arches and you twist yourself towards him, burying your face against him and keening into the hollow of his throat as you come around his fingers.
You jerk and writhe into his hand, your knee slips free of his and your thighs clamp together around him. Bradley rolls off the arm he’d been leaning on and brings it to cradle the back of your head, pulling you closer and holding you to him as he steadily works you through it until you’re loose-limbed in his arms.
He waits until your rapid pants have evened out before he slips his fingers from you. The displeased sound that you make makes the corners of his mouth twitch. He should have known you’d be bossy. He rubs gentle circles into the divots at the base of your neck as you come down.
Bradley can feel your lips graze the side of his neck when you finally speak, “So, um, let me know if you need a letter of recommendation or anything. I’d be happy to pass one along to your next partner.” You languidly prop yourself up on his chest and he notes with pride that you look a little flushed. “But, seriously, I get it now.”
He huffs a laugh as he toys with the end of your hair, “I’m glad it lived up to the hype. Well, at least that part of it.”
You press your lips together like you’re deciding something, tracing idle shapes on his stomach, and he can’t decide if he thinks you’re doing it without realizing it or if you’re the one doing the teasing this time. Your eyes flick down to his visibly hard cock and he feels his face heat up, “Can I?”
“Do you want to?” Bradley wants this experience to be everything you need and want it to be, but something about the tables turning here and the idea of you being the one to touch him like that makes his heart pound.
“I want to make you feel good too,” you softly tell him, resting your chin on your shoulder. The tender way you’re looking at him makes his teeth ache.
“Ok, but only for a little bit,” he agrees. Bradley knows he’s walking a tightrope with this, he’s aching and more than ready to be touched, but he doesn’t want to come all over your hand.
He plants his feet into his mattress and lifts his hips enough to pull off his boxer briefs, sighing in relief as his cock bobs free.
“That can’t be average,” you mutter under your breath.
He doesn’t know if you meant to have said it out loud but he smirks all the same, “I’ve never been average a day in my life, kid, Grade A student here.”
A groan slips out of him as your tentative fingers grasp his cock. There’s a lack of finesse in the way you touch him, your hand isn’t nearly as well-practiced as his own. He wraps his hand over yours, guiding your strokes as he shows you just what he likes.
“You can grip it a little firmer,” he coaches. You nod studiously, like you’re going to be tested on it later. Together the two of you work him from root to tip.
Bradley had never given much thought to his size until now. He knew he was big, but seeing that your thumb couldn’t reach the tips of your fingers when your hand was curved around him was an ego boost he didn’t know he needed.
You get more confident with every glide up and down the length of him. Your tricky thumb sweeps over the tip, collecting what precum had gathered there, and it makes your hand slide easier over him. When he accidentally thrusts into your hand, you grin and there are those dimples again.
“Ok, ok,” he blows out a shaky breath, stilling your hand with his. “We gotta stop or I’m going to come. And I’m not about to be a one pump chump.”
“It sounded like you’re more of a ten pump chump, if I remember correctly,” you tease, looking all too pleased with yourself. “Don’t worry, Bradshaw, your street cred is safe with me.”
He shakes his head in amused disbelief, “You’re such a goddamn menace. I knew I shouldn’t have told you that part.” He surprises the both of you when he wraps an arm around you and rolls to pin you under him.
And it’s like all the air is sucked out of the room because your thighs are cradling his hips and his cock is resting heavy on your stomach.
Neither one of you dare to move. He’d give anything to know what you’re thinking right now, he feels out of his depth as he watches you watching him.
His tongue feels thick in his mouth, “Are you on-”
You nod before he even finishes the question.
“Do you have-”
He nods before you finish yours.
“What did you promise me?” he prompts, squeezing the dip of your waist.
You hold up your pinky to him, “I’ll tell you.” He wraps his own crooked one around yours and gives it a shake.
Bradley doesn’t know what comes over him, but he drops a kiss to your shoulder as he reaches over you into the drawer of his nightstand to fish out what he needs. He’s thankful when you don’t comment on it because he wouldn’t even know how to explain it.
He leans back on his knees and rolls the condom on with practiced ease, then flicks open the cap to the bottle of lube he’s also grabbed and drizzles it over his cock.
“Am I not…” you trail off. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you sound this shy with him before.
“You’re plenty wet,” he assures you, pumping himself- once, twice- just enough to coat himself, “But this’ll be good too. I think you’ll like it.”
Bradley settles back over you, one arm braced by your head and the other on your hip, as your hands come up to rest lightly on either side of his ribcage. He rocks against you to demonstrate; the head of his cock nudges your clit with each silky pass. You exhale heavily at the sensation as he eases you into the motion of it, as he shows you what it’s like with another person.
You’re holding him close, and in just a moment the two of you will be the closest two people can be.
He makes only enough room to reach down between your bodies, only looks away from your face long enough to line himself up with you. There is such trust in your eyes as you gaze up at him, it’s not something Bradley takes for granted.
You nod, your fingers stroking his sides.
God, does he want this to be good for you.
He takes a breath.
And then he’s shifting forward and pressing in.
Bradley thrusts into you with all the careful gentleness you’d expect from him.
His thumb skimming along your forehead as he pushes in, in, in.
When he found that spot inside of you with his fingers, you thought you were going to fly away from the intensity of it, but then he’d pulled you into the safety of his arms and you felt like you could fall apart because he’d be keeping the pieces of you together.
He’s been so good to you. He is so good to you. He’s the best person you know.
The more of him he gives you, the less you feel like you can catch your breath.
You feel hot, hot all over. And much fuller than you’ve ever been.
Some sound must make its way out of you because Bradley offers you a low soothing noise before you feel his lightly chapped lips against your temple.
There’s something about this that reminds you of the time he tried to teach you how to skateboard. Always waited until you told him you were ready, until you found your balance. He’d held your hand as you cautiously rolled along the sidewalk, you were less worried about falling with him by your side. Only this time, his hand is on your waist and the only movements are his hips against yours as he rocks into you.
Little by little. Inch by inch.
You clutch at his biceps at the slight stinging sensation and you feel him hesitate.
“It’s just a lot,” you whisper. His fingers flex on your waist.
“You’re doing so good, just a bit more,” Bradley murmurs, encouragingly.
There’s pressure, there’s a give, and then there’s relief when his hips finally, finally meet yours.
“Shit,” he curses under his breath.
Your eyes had flickered shut somewhere along the way. You open them to see that Bradley’s face and chest are flushed pink, the muscle of his jaw flexing. The furrow between his eyebrows is so deep that you release your grip on him to smooth out the lines with an unsteady fingertip.
He reads the question in your eyes.
“You’re just really tight,” he grits out, voice strained.
You assumed that was a good thing, but he’s holding himself so tense above you that now you’re not sure. “Do I-,” you fumble over the words, “Does this feel good for you?”
He huffs an incredulous laugh, and brushes back some hair from off your face, “You feel really fucking good, sweet-”
Your whimper cuts him off when he pulls out a fraction and then pushes back in.
His brown eyes take you in as he does it again, more this time. Pulling out just a bit- just enough- and then filling you again. The discomfort fading more with each thrust as he guides his hips to yours until yours are tilting up to meet his seeking more.
It’s a conversation between your bodies, the give and the take of it all as Bradley introduces you to this new unspoken language. You feel yourself flutter around his cock, stretched wider than you’ve ever been.
You feel that heat spreading underneath your skin again as he surely and steadily pumps into you. It feels like your nerves are on fire. You didn’t expect to even come once and you’re well on your way to a third.
He reaches down and hooks your leg over his hip. His hand slides up along the outside of your thigh and under your ass, tilting your hips up towards his even more. He’s so much deeper like this. Your hands slide into his hair, tugging at his curls.
“Bradley, I-I think… I feel-”
“You’re gonna come,” he rasps, nodding at you. Encouraging, coaxing.
He grinds his pelvis against your clit with every deliciously slow roll into you.
Your mouth drops open at the feel of it, it’s better than anything you’ve ever imagined. You don’t think your faces have ever been closer than they are now. Bradley is breathing your air, and you’re breathing his. Bradley’s pupils are blown wide, his heavy-lidded eyes are locked on yours. You didn’t know there could be so many shades of brown. His curls are a mess and it’s all because of you. He licks his lips and your breath catches in your throat when his eyes dart down to your parted mouth.
His next thrust into you hits that spot inside of you just so right that it has you gasping.
It’s so good, it’s too good, it’s overwhelming.
You wrap your arms around his neck clinging to him, your face buried against him. Bradley drops his head to your shoulder, you feel his lips brush against your clavicle. Your head moves away on instinct, making more room for him if he wants to do it again.
You get lost in the feeling of his cock hitting you in all the places you’ve heard about and read about, but have never felt for yourself until now. He’s still got your ass gripped in his hand, whereas your hands can’t stay in one spot. They’re tangled in his hair, running over his shoulders and down his abs, gliding over his back aided by the sheen of sweat he’s worked up.
You’re not trying to hold yourself back, but it feels like you’re standing on the tallest diving board at the pool, your toes curled around the edge, but still too nervous about the drop to jump.
“C’mon, kid. You’re right there,” he breathes hard, “I need you to come for me. Just one more.”
He gets his fingers back on your clit and it’s the end of you. Your back is arching so much you think you might snap. Your toes curl so tights they may never unfurl. The force your orgasm overtakes you, demanding everything you have up to offer and then some.
You hear Bradley’s moan as you pulse around his cock, trembling under him as the waves of pleasure wash over you. His hips stutter against yours, finally losing that steady rhythm he’d set, you pull him tighter to you and it’s not long until he comes too.
It’s all white noise. All you can feel is your heartbeat pounding, until little pieces of the world come back into focus.
The hum of the fan.
The beam of warm afternoon light through the blinds.
The smell of the now cold coffee on his nightstand.
In the after, you’re all too aware of every place your body is touching Bradley’s.
He’d somehow managed to roll on his back and had taken you with him. He was literally just inside of you, but yet it feels like your leg draped over his thigh is somehow more intimate. A prickly self-conscious feeling settles over you. Unsure of what the rules were for friends who just had sex, you attempt to peel yourself off of him, but the heavy arm over your waist keeps you in place.
“Come back here, kid,” Bradley mumbles, his eyes still closed, “I need to cuddle after I come, so I’m gonna need you to indulge me here for a moment.” He strokes a soothing hand down your back. And while he says it’s for him, you know he’s still trying to take care of you.
He hums when you lay back down. You set a hand on his chest. He reaches for it with his free one and threads your fingers together. It makes you melt further into him.
You feel a little different. But mostly, you feel like a weight you didn’t know you’d been carrying had been lifted off of you.
Your first time was everything you hoped it would be. You were safe and cared for, and you already knew, you’d never have any regrets about it. And it was all because of him.
“Thank you, Bradley,” you say, softly.
“Anything for you, kid.”
Your early morning catches up with you as you lay there, warm and secure. Your eyelids get heavier with each pass of Bradley’s hand along your spine. And you drift off to the sound of his heartbeat under your ear.
You’re still you. And Bradley is still Bradley.
It was just… something between friends.
A few hours later the two of you are still in his bed.
Only now you’re clothed and swapping the cartons of Chinese food that he’d ordered while you’d napped against his chest, and fighting over the fortune cookies watching some reruns of old sitcoms. You couldn’t hear their laugh tracks over your own.
The last couple of days you had at UVA fly by just as quickly.
You don’t know how, but the two of you managed to cross of all the things on his Spring Break To-Do List. And before you knew it you were back at the airport.
Bradley had insisted on walking you in, wanting to see you off.
Neither one of you has ever been good with goodbyes. So you don’t give him one, instead you reach for your bag and tell him, “Ok, see you in June.”
Bradley doesn’t let go, clearly confused, “What the hell are you talking about?”
You grin because it feels like a checkmate.
“You didn’t think you’d be getting that diploma all by yourself, did you?”
He looks thunderstruck.
You and your mom already had the plane tickets and hotel room booked. Your stepdad wouldn’t be able to come, but he was planning on sending your mom with one of the cakes from his family’s bakery. You’d been tasked with finding out what flavor, carrot cake or peanut butter- Bradley’s two favorites- but you could iron out the details with him later.
You’d had a busy week, plus it was more fun this way.
Bradley tugs you into his arms, yours wrap around him just as easily as they always have.
“June?” he asks into the crown of your head.
“June,” you promise.
And when he lets you go- for real this time- it’s with a smile that takes up his whole face.
He doesn’t say goodbye either, “Be good, kid. See you in June.”
𝐍𝐎𝐖
You avoid Rooster for the rest of the night.
And Jake too, for that matter. Bless Javy for finding ways to distract him because you could tell than man was chomping at the bit for more details. But you’d already given him more than enough.
You could have lied, you probably should have lied. It might have been easier than feeling like you’d hung up part of yourself on the drying line for everyone to see. But in that moment, the thought of lying and saying anyone else’s name other than Rooster’s had made your stomach turn.
Because it was the truth, he was your first, but he was also your best.
When you come out of the bathroom, there’s no missing Rooster. He’s leaning against the wall by the entrance. It takes him a moment to notice you since he looks lost in thought, but when he does you feel pinned to the wall by the intense look in his eyes.
He stands to his full height as you approach, you know he wants to talk about it.
You shake your head at him, “We don’t need to do this.”
“No, kid, we really do.” He takes you by the arm and leads you to a quieter spot away from everyone else.
“It was just a game,” you start before he can, “And now I know more about everyone’s sex life than I ever wanted to.” He crosses his arms over his chest at your attempt at deflection. “Look, I’m really sorry if that was something you wanted to keep a secret or just between us. I should have asked you first if that was ok to share.”
“I don’t care about that.” Rooster waves you off and takes a step closer to you, his eyes searching yours. “All this time and I’m the best you’ve ever had?”
“Are we really doing this? Here and now?”
You peer around him to look and see if anyone is watching the two of you, it feels like a showdown. But all the Daggers are occupied, probably on purpose. You’ve never seen Mickey with such a serious look of concentration on his face.
“Here and now,” he confirms.
You feel flustered, “Rooster, it’s been 12 years and we haven’t talked about it once-”
“Bradley,” he cuts you off. He takes another step towards you, so you’re toe to toe with him. “I’ve always been Bradley to you.”
The tension that had crept up in your shoulders releases a bit.
“Bradley,” you say, softly. “Listen, I’ve had a lot of good sex since then. Great sex even.” He presses his lips together and nods. “And with other men, if I felt like they weren’t putting in their best effort I’d kick them out because the bar was set very high early on.”
You see him fight back a smirk.
“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, with pride.
Your breath gets caught in your throat, you know he hears it because his eyes take on a richer shade of brown. You both feel the shift, tension churning between the two of you.
Taking a deep breath, you continue, “But I was telling the truth when I said you were my best. Probably because of the way you made sure I knew that you cared. I don’t know how to describe it. It was just different with you.”
You feel his finger graze the back of your hand.
The sounds of the Hard Deck fade into the background as you stare at each other. Entire conversations are being had as you look into his eyes and he looks into yours. Words and sentences spoken with glances.
Just friends don’t look at each other like this.
“It’s never been like this,” you whisper, “We’ve never been like this before.” You gesture at how close he is to you.
How he’s almost got you backed up against a wall.
How he’s looking at you like you’re his.
“I know.”
He says your name and your heart somersaults in your chest.
“I want to see your tattoo. I keep finding myself looking for it when we’re all at the beach. And then I get annoyed, knowing that people have seen it and I haven’t.”
“My tattoo? Bradley, what-”
“I want to see your tattoo,” he repeats like it’s a fact. “And I want to punch Seresin in his smug face every time he flirts with you.”
You roll your eyes, “Jake doesn’t flirt with me, not really. He just likes riling you up.”
“What if I said I wanted to try this as more than friends.” Bradley settles a large hand on your hip. “What if I said that since you’ve moved here I’ve had a hard time keeping my head on straight.”
“Bradley.” His name falls out of your mouth so easily now that it can.
“I want to take you home with me. I want to kiss you. I want to make you come. I need to know if you sound the same in my bed. And then I want to take you out for breakfast and buy whatever fancy coffee you want and as many pancakes as you can eat.”
You’ve been told that you wear your heart on your sleeve, but he has always worn his on his face. There’s no mistaking the open want on his face.
“Bradley, it’ll be different this time.” For so many reasons.
Because it’s not a favor being asked. It’s not some new experience being tried with the person you trust the most, with everything. You’d be on equal footing. It wouldn’t be a friend helping a friend, the two of you would be crossing that line between friends and more because you want each other in that way.
“I want it to be different, sweet girl,” he says, cupping your face in his familiar hand, “I’m ready for it to be different, if you are.”
He looks from your eyes down to your parted lips.
“We didn’t do that last time,” you whisper. Feeling brave, you reach out and run your fingers along the buttons of his shirt.
“No, we didn’t,” he agrees. His eyes are trained on his thumb as he skims it under your lip. “And that’s a damn shame.”
Bradley’s face is all you can see. Warm eyes, a still-straight nose, and a soft smile that is for you and you alone.
He dips down and your eyes flutter closed, your head tipping up on its own in anticipation.
His lips brush your cheek. It’s not enough.
You tug on his collar, but he chuckles and kisses your cheek again, lingering longer this time.
“I’m not kissing you for the first time around the corner from a bathroom,” he rasps.
You open your eyes and see the amusement in his. He always did like teasing you.
“Oh, where do you plan on doing it then?”
“Outside your front door, like a gentleman,” he says, like it’s obvious.
You can’t help but grin because Bradley Bradshaw can’t wait the extra 10 minutes it would take to drive to his place instead of yours. He wants that kiss just as badly as you do. You watch as a matching smile to yours blooms across his face.
It feels normal to slide your fingers between his much larger ones. It feels right as you lead the way out of the Hard Deck with him only a step behind you.
As it turns out, he only makes it as far as the Bronco before he’s spinning you back towards him and pressing you against it. His hands are on your hips and yours are wrapped around his neck as he kisses you for the very first time.
Bradley kisses you like a man who knows what he wants. And what he wants is you.
It’s not tentative in the way that first kisses usually are.
He kisses you like he knows you.
Because he does.
Later, when he closes the door to the Bronco for you, it feels like the end of one thing. But as he slips his fingers into yours when he backs out of the parking space it feels like the beginning of something new.
That night tangled in Bradley’s sheets- he’d kissed you at every light which made those extra 10 minutes it took to get to his home worth it- he makes your back arch and your toes curl as he makes you come with his fingers and mouth and tongue and cock. His lips dropping kiss after kiss on every part of you that he can reach. Because he can, because you want him and he wants you.
The way he touches you tells you that he remembers it all.
He was you first, but what you wouldn’t learn until later, is that he would also be your last.
And he’d be the only man to ever have your entire heart.
Happy Birthday Jordan! An AU just for you! 💖 I adore you and I hope this year is the best one yet!
A big thank you to @callsignspark and @ofstoriesandstardust for their help and beta reading and their woogirling! I appreciate you two so much!
Author's Note: this was a "what-if" AU set in the 'Like I Can' universe! If you want to read about what really happens you can read it here!
You can read more of my stories here!
Taglist:
@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader
#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#bradley bradshaw smut#top gun imagine#topgun fanfiction#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw x you#bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader#bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction#bradley rooster bradshaw imagine#rooster x reader#rooster x you#rooster x female reader
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Curious what if we switch the roles 👀
Cowboy Rooster and Pilot Reader,
Also hope you have a good day:)
-🐎
So I haven't made the reader a pilot, but I hope you still like it love
Alsooooo I started writing a whole ass cowboy Bob fic and it's all I can think about
Bradley had been riding up to his father's fishing cabin since he was a boy. His mom took him up there every summer when he was growing up.
The walls were littered with pictures of his parents, of his dad and his best friend on their fishing trips. Growing up Bradley's mom used to tell him stories about his father, about what happened on those fishing trips he took with Mav.
When his mother died, Bradley stopped riding up to the cabin. He had no reason to now she was gone,nobody special to take up there.
But then he met her. He caught her eye from across the bar, she claimed that it was his moustache and ancient cowboy hat that made him stand out. Rooster took her home that night.
And then the next night.
And then the next morning she was riding on the back of Texas, her arms wrapped around his waist as he took her around the property. It was almost like she hadn't left since.
Bradley took her to the fishing cabin. He didn't ride up like he did when he was a kid, instead taking her in his truck. His hand was on her thigh for the entire drive.
When Bradley got to the cabin, he couldn't help but apologise for how dusty everything was. But she didn’t care as she pulled him onto the bed, pulled him on top of her abd wrapped her legs around him.
Bradley took his hat off and cradled her head, deepening the kiss. It would have been a miracle if the ancient bed made it through the night.
#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw fluff#bradley bradshaw x you#rooster x reader#rooster#rooster imagine#rooster fluff#rooster x you#top gun#top gun maverick#top gun rooster#bradley rooster bradshaw#miles teller#cowboy!au#miles teller imagine#miles teller x reader
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Hotter Than Texas | Part I
(unofficially: Brother's Worst Enemy)
Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader
Alrighty y'all, this is for everyone who has so patiently waited for me to make this a thing XD Not sure if I could squeeze a whole series out of this one but we shall see. Maybe at least a part 2. Enjoy!
Summary: Bradley Bradshaw is tasked with transporting a not-so-delicate package in the form of Jake Seresin's baby sister, who turns out to be Bradley's dream girl worst nightmare.
Aka it's a road trip, strap in.
CW: swearing, age gap (10 years)
The mission is simple. Collect Seresin Junior from the train station near the main gate of the base and deliver said cargo to the Seresin homestead in Eastern Texas on his way to Atlanta, Georgia for a long overdue visit with his grandparents. It isn’t rocket science. It sure as hell doesn’t hold a candle to the canyon run he pulled off just the other month. And yet, Bradley’s drumming his fingers anxiously on the hood of his Bronco as he leans into its frame, waiting on the trolley from downtown San Diego.
While Jake and Bradley have recently made peace after their longstanding cold war, Bradley isn’t exactly thrilled to meet another one of his kind. Besides, he isn’t one for small talk, and the prospect of spending the next two days with a complete stranger is downright daunting. He prefers music to conversation and he’s hoping that his road trip companion won’t be offended when he turns up the radio and forgets there’s anybody else in the car.
When Hangman had asked for the favor, he assured Bradley that he was his last choice – which wasn’t exactly a compliment, but Bradley appreciated the gesture, nonetheless. By the end of the term, there was nobody from their squadron left on base except Bradley, and he would be heading east anyway, might as well provide shuttle service while he’s at it.
As the trolley whistles into the station, Bradley pushes off his car and straightens his back, watching the tinted windows as they zip by, a blur at first and then gradually separating as the trolley comes to a stop.
Bradley leaves his car to walk around the fence, not quite sure how he’s going to be greeting a person he’s never before seen, but it’s not like he’s going to fashion a sign for the occasion. He sticks his hands into his pockets, the breeze picking up his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt like a parachute before it starts whipping around his torso in the wind tunnel on the platform.
He glances around at the commuters stepping off the trolley, trying to pick out the blondes that might resemble his colleague, when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns his head, just as you say, “Rooster, right?”
He blinks at you, slightly disoriented. You look nothing like Hangman, thank fuck, because Bradley can’t take his eyes off you and, as inappropriate as this reaction is, it would make it that much worse if you did. He gives you a sideways grin. “What gave me away?” he says.
“My brother told me to find the dorkiest guy at the station,” you respond, grinning at him.
Bradley chuckles. “So, you’re walking to Texas, then,” he says, stepping around you.
You laugh, struggling to redirect the wheels of your suitcase.
Bradley bends down to grab the handle. “I can take that,” he says, tucking away the retractable bar and lifting it off the ground by the strap.
“Thanks,” you say, cringing slightly as Bradley lifts the luggage as though you’re embarrassed by its weight.
But after the countless exercise drills over the years, Bradley hardly notices that it’s heavy. In fact, he could probably carry it over his head. He eyes you inconspicuously as you fall in step with him, wondering if perhaps that might impress you – not that he wants to impress you.
“Actually, he said I couldn’t miss you because you’d be a head taller than everyone else, and probably wearing a very bright shirt.”
Bradley looks over at you with a grin. “Hopefully I didn’t disappoint?”
You eye his shirt flapping in the breeze. “I found you, didn’t I?”
Bradley lifts your suitcase into the trunk of his car and walks around to open your door for you.
You give him a suspicious look. “Thanks,” you say.
Bradley nods at you, offering a hand to help you in. Once you’re seated, he shuts the door behind you and exhales unsteadily the kind of sigh that often accompanies a guilty conscience. There’s no way he could possibly get entangled in a mess of this magnitude. And a colossal mess it would become if he were to develop any sort of soft spot for his recent enemy’s baby sister. Bradley, being a sensible, mature adult, understands this unequivocally. But, when he rounds the car and climbs into the driver’s seat next to you, the notion that he’s not allowed under any circumstances to find you attractive flies right out his rolled down window.
This is because you’re already tuning the radio like you own the place and because you smell like a goddess. Bradley has no clue whether it’s your hair or your perfume or your goddamn essence that’s permeated his upholstery in under ten seconds, but whatever it is, he certainly wouldn’t mind smelling it on his sheets in the morning.
Fuck. He’s fucking fucked.
“This alright?” you ask casually, as if you didn’t just hijack a stranger’s radio.
He cringes at the stereo; he’ll have to work on your taste in music. “Got your seatbelt on?” he asks as he pulls out.
You turn around in your seat and pull on the seatbelt.
Bradley promptly hits the breaks and you lurch forward slightly, the seatbelt in your hand getting stuck on its way out. He looks over at you with an air of seriousness despite the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “The seatbelt should be the first thing you do when you enter a vehicle.” Not fiddle with the radio, he adds silently.
You raise your eyebrows at him in amusement. “Okay, dad.”
Bradley nearly shudders at your response. He’s probably a good ten years older than you, so, really, while dad might be stretching it, you’re not too far off. “Keep up that attitude and you’ll be listening to Metallica the whole way home.”
You smirk at him. “I like Metallica, so joke’s on you, bud.”
Bradley starts driving again. “If you like Metallica, then why are we listening to this trash?”
Your jaw drops and you reach for the volume dial to turn up the song. “How dare you?”
Bradley rolls his eyes. Something tells him he’s in for a wild ride.
…
About two hours later, Bradley pulls into a small gas station just past the border into Arizona.
“Want something to eat?” he asks, leaning across the console to pop his glove compartment and pull out his wallet. “Or drink?”
You purse your lips. “I could go for a coffee.”
“How do you like it?” he asks.
“With a pinch of salt.”
Bradley gapes at you. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”
You snort. “I’m not joking. You should try it! Cuts the bitterness in half, my friend.”
Bradley cringes. “The bitterness is why I drink it.”
You shake your head and declare wisely, “You’ll see.”
“That you’re a nutcase?” Bradley mutters under his breath as he exits the car. He jogs over to the convenience store, determinedly blocking out the seductive quality of your persuasive tone. You could probably convince him to drink a pint of his own urine if you set your mind to it.
Bradley drums impatiently on the counter, waiting for the clerk to finish restocking one of the shelves with chips. While he’s waiting, he glances out to check on you as if you’re a child under his charge. You’ve stepped out of the Bronco to stretch your legs and Bradley doesn’t like the way the two guys in the convertible in behind are eyeing you.
Bradley cranes his neck to check on the clerk’s progress and lets out a stifled sigh. When he looks back outside, he sees that one of the men has approached you and, well, Bradley isn’t about to wait to see what happens next. He drops a bill on the counter and calls out, “Keep the change,” to the clerk before practically slamming his way through the doors with the coffees in his hands.
Why it bothers him that some random dude might want your number is not of consequence. What matters is that Bradley gets rid of this asswipe before you start enjoying his company.
He strides confidently past the man chatting you up and stops right in between you and him, handing you a coffee.
“Careful, it’s hot,” he cautions moodily, not entirely sure how to go about handling a situation in which, objectively speaking, he has no real authority.
You meet his gaze with a small smile. “You don’t say,” you respond with all the sultriness of a blazing, desert sun.
Bradley’s gaze remains unwaveringly on you as he unhooks a pair of Ray-Bans from the neck of his muscle shirt and slides them over his eyes. “Ready to go?” he asks in a level tone, hoping he can avoid what is bound to be an unpleasant interaction with the man still standing behind him.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” the man speaks up. “Didn’t realize you were with someone, honey.”
Bradley keeps his eyes on yours for several moments longer, trying his best not to show the irritation he feels at the way this rando just called you ‘honey’. Reluctantly, he turns to face him, wondering what in the world he could say that wouldn’t make him sound jealous as fuck.
But before Bradley could speak, you slide casually into his side, leaning on him like it’s the most natural thing. “That’s just fine,” you say to the man. “No harm, no foul.”
Bradley looks down at your head as it nestles into his shoulder and then lifts his arm to let you move in closer. Trying to play it cool, he skims the tips of his fingers across your lower back, which is warm and feels like the perfect place to rest his hand.
Convertible guy promptly departs, and Bradley is left standing in an embrace with the one person on the entire planet for whom he should never catch feelings, at a derelict gas station on the outskirts of arid Yuma, Arizona, and the heat is really starting to get to him. Slowly, you start to peel yourself away and Bradley, sensing your withdrawal, drops his hand and recoils from you like you’ve burnt him.
Did it feel nice pretending you were his girl? Sure did. Is he going to erase it from his memory and never let himself so much as shake your hand again? Absolutely.
Read Part 2
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Say My Name
Requested: no
Summary: You find out just how big Bradley is. He really does live up to his call sign.
Word count: 3.4k
Note: banner by @lewmagoo
Warnings: smut, oral sex (f!recieving), fingering, anal fingering, size kink, overstimulation, unprotected sex, cum play. Please let me know if I missed anything!
Pairings: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x fem!reader
The air in the bedroom was filled with tension. You were on your third glass of wine and Bradley had just begun pouring his second. Nerves surged through you. Tonight, you were planning on having your first time with Bradley. While the two of you had been dating for nearly seven months, you had yet to sleep together. The thought had you nervously fiddling with the hem of your short skirt.
Bradley had made the two of you a nice dinner before leading you to his bedroom. Despite how much you wanted this, you couldn’t settle the butterflies in your stomach. Sure, you had slept with others before Bradley. However, given the things that you had heard about him from his fellow pilots, you felt more nervous than usual as you stared at the gold chain he was wearing. You had done some sexual stuff with the pilot before, but you had yet to see what he was packing. Honestly, that was what had you the most nervous.
No matter how hard you tried to ignore the teasing from the rest of his squadron about his size, you simply couldn’t. Not when Jake kept making crude remarks about his callsign having some sort of double meaning and teasing you about what he saw in the locker rooms. You could never get away from it. Now, you couldn’t help but find yourself staring at the bulge straining in his jeans.
His deep chuckle was what broke you out of your trance. “See something you like, Princess?” There was a teasing lilt to his voice. You blushed deeply, sipping the last drop of wine from your glass. “C’mere.” He rasped. Instantly, you obeyed, crawling into his lap and straddling his thick thighs. His glass was set on the nightstand before his hands came to sit on the tops of your thighs.
The tickle of his mustache as he peppered kisses across your neck had you squirming in his lap. You clenched around nothing at the guttural groan he let out. From where you were sitting right now, you could tell he was big. Moaning quietly, you nearly melted when Bradley gripped your hips and pulled you down closer to his growing bulge.
“Bradley,” You moaned out with barely concealed need. Another grunt was released into your neck. “Fuck,” Panting with your head tossed back, the feeling of Bradley’s lips travelling down your chest had you shivering. “I need you. Please.” It was the neediest sound you had ever made in your life.
Time seemed to stand still as Bradley lifted you off his lap. You whined at the loss of warmth before laid you down on the bed and crawled on top of you. Cooing quietly at your pitiful whine, the pilot smirked at your frantic state. As Bradley continued to kiss down your neck, your chest was rising and falling quickly. “I’m gonna make you feel real good, baby girl.” His words were a promise; one that you knew he would make good on.
Your blouse was slowly unbuttoned as Bradley peppered kisses across your soft skin. When he finally reached the last button, you were out of breath, panting loudly. Now, you were left in nothing but your lacy bra and short skirt. Unbeknownst to Bradley, you had nothing on under that skirt. Feeling Braldey’s mustache tickling the sensitive skin of your stomach had you wanting to giggle. But the pleasurable warmth in your core had you moaning out instead.
Next, Bradley began massaging your thighs, shimmying further down the bed until he was level with your thighs. You breathed in deeply, nerves rearing their ugly head again. Ever so slowly, Bradley reached under you and pulled the zipper of your short skirt down. It took every fibre of your being to focus your breathing. Bradley had eaten you out before, but knowing what would be coming after had you shaking.
Your legs parted enough so that Bradley could slot in between them, knees bending and feet planted firmly on the cool sheets. Before you even realized what was happening, Bradley had your legs tossed over your shoulder and he was softly nipping the sensitive insides of your thighs. When Bradley lifted his head, he was met with the sight of your bare, puffy cunt. He groaned loudly, his cock managing to harden even more in his tight jeans.
Seconds later you were met with the feeling of Bradley’s tongue running over your slit delicately. Instantly, a sharp cry escaped you. Tangling your fingers in your boyfriend's curly hair, you tugged when his lips sealed around your clit. The feeling had you arching off the bed, your heels digging into the pilot’s back.
For the next few minutes, the only sounds that could be heard in the room were your loud, wanton moans and the lewd sounds coming from between your legs. Bradley’s tongue was now prodding against your entrance, teasing you relentlessly. You found it hard to breathe as cry after cry escaped you. Slowly, your high began building. When two of your boyfriend’s thick fingers pushed meticulously inside your weeping cunt, your back arched so hard off the bed, Bradley had to pause to make sure you were okay.
The grin on his face when he heard your needy whines was nothing short of devious. Without hesitation, he returned to sucking on your clit and working his fingers in and out of your slick entrance quickly. “Oh!” You cried out from the delicious
Bradley was relentless. His thick fingers stretched you open deliciously, making a scissoring motion as he licked around your greedy hole. Your moans slowly grew higher and higher in pitch. Outside of your field of vision, Bradley brought his other hand up and between your legs. The sudden press of his thumb against your tight, puckered hole had you nearly screaming. “Oh, my god.” The words were slurred together. That familiar coil in the pit of your stomach was almost ready to snap.
The tip of his thumb suddenly slipped into your tight hole, creating a delicious pressure. More slick leaked from your slit. As Bradley’s fingers kept up their pace inside of your puffy cunt, the squelching sound got louder the wetter you got. There wasn’t a single coherent thought in your mind as Bradley’s thumb pushed further into your ass, his fingers stretched apart even further and his lips sealed around your clit. All at once, he sucked on your clit harshly, pressed his fingers into your sweet spot, and pressed his thumb in as far as possible.
You were so close. In a few seconds, you would be gushing around his fingers. “Bradley,” You panted, fingers gripping his brown locks like a lifeline. “Stop.” He froze instantly, eyes snapping up to meet yours. His fingers slowed until they stopped and his thumb moved to draw back. But when you whined at the sensation in your puckered hole, he stopped his movements altogether.
“Honey?” He started, rubbing your thigh softly and smearing your slick on your smooth skin in the process. “What’s wrong.?” It was whispered into the soft skin of your stomach The tickle of his mustache against your stomach had you giggling. Even though your core was clenching around nothing and you could still feel his finger moving slowly inside your ass. Regardless of the worry bubbling in his chest, Bradley smiled at the sound of your laughter.
You offered him a blissed-out smile, moaning softly at the movements of his thumb. “Nothin’,” At those words, Bradley slipped his fingers back inside of your dripping cunt. You were so wet that there was zero friction as he pushed them in until the second knuckle. You were instantly whiny again. “Wait,” You tried again. This time, Bradley only slowed his ministrations. “I wanna come on your cock.” The widest grin you had ever seen broke out on your boyfriend's face.
Teasingly, he leaned down and allowed his tongue to flick over your clit. A chuckle escaped him. You had no idea what you were in for. “Honey,” There was a teasing lilt to his voice. “You’re gonna need at least two before I even think about letting you cum on my cock.” His words caused you to let out a shuddering breath. Sure, you knew that he was big. After all, you couldn’t go anywhere without someone reminding you of that fact. But his words caused you to wonder just how big he was.
Before you could snark back, his thumb pushed in as far as it could and his lips sealed around your clit. Crying out again, your heels dug further into Bradley’s back and you pulled so hard on his curly locks you thought that some of the hair would come out. Instead, he groaned and began slurping harder. Within seconds, you were gushing around his fingers, cuming so hard you could have sworn you saw stars.
As you were coming down, Bradley drew his thumb from your ass and pulled his sticky fingers from your core. Your cum slowly dripped down your opening. Once you were coherent again, your eyes slowly looked down at Bradley. He was transfixed on the sight between your thighs. The tip of his index finger slowly began to swirl through the creamy mess between your thighs. It dipped shallowly into your opening and scooped out some more of your cum.
The overstimulation was almost becoming too much for you. Now, Bradley’s finger was swirling your cum around your sensitive clit. Your whines were breathly, so much so that Bradley could hardly hear them. Nevertheless, he continued, drawing moan after moan from your parted and chapped lips.
Within minutes, you were right on the brink again. Feeling that delicious pressure building faster than ever, you shifted your hips until Bradley’s face was, quite literally, buried in your slick cunt. As you tipped over the edge for the second time in a matter of minutes, Bradley stared at your expression in awe.
Your legs were shaking. So much so that Bradley was almost convinced he went too far. But when your eyes fluttered open, Bradley could see the pure pleasure swimming in your eyes. “How was that, Honey?” There was a low timbre to his voice as the coarse hairs of his mustache rubbed against your smooth thighs. Your breathing was heavy and your fingers couldn’t stop twitching, but you had never felt better. So that was exactly what you told him.
“That was amazing,” You sat up, half expecting Bradley to push you back down and pull another orgasm from you. Crawling up your body, one of your boyfriend’s large hands rubbed at your side before grabbing your tit. A soft moan escaped you before you grinned up at the pilot. “But, I think you know that I want something else.” Your words were punctuated with a soft squeeze of his rock-hard cock.
The groan that he released was nearly primal. With one last passionate kiss pressed to your lips, he slowly, almost teasingly, unbuttoned his jeans. Then, he peeled his black boxers off his toned and muscular thighs. Your eyes were fixed between his legs, not blinking as you came face to face with his sheer size. “B-Bradley,” You stuttered, beginning to shake slightly. Snapping your eyes up to meet his, your boyfriend had a smug grin on his face. “There’s no way that that’s going to fit.”
The chuckle that escaped him was nearly mocking. “Yes, it will.” Those were the last words he spoke before he was leaning over you again. His hard cock rubbed into your thigh while he was sucking dark marks that contrasted against your unblemished skin into the side of your neck.
After a few minutes of nothing more than kissing softly, Bradley finally pulled back. His hands were warm as they rubbed softly over your sides, an attempt to soothe you that didn't go unnoticed. “Are you ready, baby?” Regardless of the fact that you couldn’t tame the nerves fluttering in your stomach, you nodded. With a smile, he kissed your forehead. Against your skin, he whispered that he was going to get a condom and the lube.
You stopped him. For the first time tonight, you felt one hundred percent prepared for what was about to happen. “No,” Bradley looked at you confused, wondering why you had changed your mind. Kneeling next to him, you placed one hand on his bare chest, stroking the tanned skin softly. Seductively, you whispered in his ear. “No condom. I wanna feel you.” You were on the pill, and you knew that both Bradley and yourself were clean.
His breathing seemed to stop and then there was a wide smile on his face. You squealed when he kissed you passionately, laying you down on the bed and leaving you breathless as he disappeared in search of lube. The sight of his bare backside walking away had you giggling dreamily. When he returned from the bathroom, you were met with the sight of his shockingly large cock between his legs. At that sight, you didn’t laugh as much.
For the next few seconds, you and Bradley were quiet. Soft touches were shared between the two of you before your boyfriend pulled back once more. His fingers dipped between your legs, checking to see just how wet you were. A soft moan escaped you as he swirled your slick around your clit. The next thing you knew, you could hear the cap of the lube snapping open. Suddenly, you felt the cold drop running down your slit. A hiss escaped you before Bradley slipped his fingers into you once more.
The next few minutes were spent with Bradley opening you up even further than you already were. You could feel that familiar pressure building once more. But, instead of Bradley leading you over that delicious edge, he stopped right as you were about to tip over. You groaned.
With a chuckle, Bradley slowly crawled up your body. “You ready, baby?” You could only nod, wanting nothing more than for Bradley to be seated inside of you. As he poured some more lube onto his hand, you got a sinister idea. The thought had you smirking. However, you were stopped in your tracks as you watched Bradley wrap his hand around his thick cock. His fingers couldn’t even touch.
For the first time tonight, you found yourself focusing on his cock. It was long, longer than you had seen before and curved toward the end. His tip was an angry red colour and as he stroked himself, you could see the pre-cum leaking down his shaft. Your eyes traced the vein that ran up the bottom before your eyes snapped up to your boyfriend’s. He had caught you red-handed.
Now, you decided to act on your plan. Before Bradley could realize what was happening, you had flipped him over and were straddling his thick thighs. He looked up at you in shock. With one hand, you gripped his cock and with the other you stabilized yourself against his chest. Biting your lip, your eyes locked with his as you began to stroke him. After a few seconds of building up your courage, you slowly sank down on him. Your warm and slick cunt sunk down onto his fat, mushroom tip with hardly any resistance.
Within the first few seconds, you were a moaning mess. There was less than two inches inside of you and you were already losing your mind. You couldn’t even begin to fathom taking the rest of him. Bradley could sense that you were struggling, so, your boyfriend’s hands gripped your hips. Slowly, he helped you sink down onto him. The breath rushed from your lungs in a matter of seconds. Now, you were just over halfway down Bradley’s cock and you felt like you were being split in half.
“That’s it, Princess,” He encouraged you as your greedy cunt swallowed another inch of him. “Doing so good.” With careful movements, he pulled you down until your head was resting on his chest, the steady sound of his heartbeat under your ear. Ever so slowly, Bradley pulled down your hips until they were flush with his. The second he was fully seated inside of you, you let out the most pornographic moan Bradley had ever heard.
One of his hands grabbed your ass and the other cradled the back of your head. The next few minutes were spent with Bradley simply letting you adjust to his size. His sheer girth had you whining quietly against his skin, sticky with sweat. After about four minutes, Bradley planted his feet and shifted slightly. That caused the tip of his cock to press right against your sweet spot. Once again, you couldn’t help but moan loudly.
Ever so slowly, your boyfriend began rocking into you. With each thrust, Bradley would only pull himself out a little bit, leaving the rest of his pulsing cock stuffed inside of you. Then he would push back in, filling you to the brim once more. The feeling of his mushroom tip hitting your spot over and over again had you seeing stars. “Say my name.” It was more of a command than a request.
“Fuck, Bradley!” You cried out, hips beginning to raise and fall of their own accord. He grunted hips smacking into yours as he fucked you.
You grunted, feet planted firmly against the bed as he pistoned his weeping cock into you. “No,” He taunted, slowing his thrusts until he was hardly moving. “Not that one.” The realization of what he wanted you to do was almost enough to make you cum.
“Oh my god,” You rushed out, fist forming as you curled into his chest further. “Rooster!” It was almost a scream. The way the words rushed out of you so fast, Bradley was almost concerned. Almost. “Rooster, please. Please fuck me.” At that, Bradley moaned. He had never heard such a sweet sound as you begging for him to fuck you. It was music to his ears.
Loud moans and grunts filled the room as Bradley began to thrust harder and deeper. Now you were clinging to him, puffy cunt stretched out more than you ever would have thought possible. Your boyfriend gripped your hips harshly, raising you up on his thick cock before slamming you down onto him. That sent a sharp cry out of you, your face turning until it was buried against his chest.
Suddenly, your whole body tensed. Bradley, once again, had slipped his thumb into your tight ring of muscle. The moan that you let out was nearly a scream. Feeling his thick cock in your dripping core and his thumb pushing into your ass sent you reeling. “Imagine what my cock would feel like in this tight, little ass of yours.” He punctuated his words with a hard thrust. His thumb slipped out of your ass seconds later. The fucked-out look on your face wasn’t going away anytime soon.
This pattern continued for the next few minutes until Bradley's thrusts began growing erratic. You were so, so close. All you needed was a little bit more and you would be falling into blissful pleasure. Bradley gave you that little bit more in mere seconds.
His thumb pressed hard against your clit, rubbing the small pearl in circular motions. You found yourself clenching around him with your eyes rolling back. There was an obscene amount of your sweet release leaking out around your boyfriend’s thick cock. He held you carefully as you slowly came down from your high.
Before you had time to recover, however, your boyfriend was pumping his cum into you, thick, white ropes painting your walls. You shuddered at the foreign feeling. Regardless of the other guys you had been with before, you had never let any of them do what you and Bradley just did. His cock was still throbbing inside you. The feeling almost had you cumming again.
Ever so slowly, Bradley lifted you off his softening cock. It had you whining and whimpering. You clenched around nothing, his cum starting to leak out of you. It dripped onto his lap as he pulled your hips up. You were breathless as he set your hips down on his thigh, your cunt clenching desperately at the pressure suddenly placed on your clit. His arms wound around your stomach, holding you tightly against his sweaty chest.
In less than five minutes, you were drifting off against his chest, feeling his warm cum still dripping out of your puffy and abused cunt. Needless to say, the next day, you were walking with a limp.
a/n: Thank you for reading! Requests are open :)
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#top gun#top gun fanfiction#top gun x female reader#top gun x reader#top gun fluff#top gun maverick#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#bradley bradshaw x y/n#bradley 'rooster' bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw smut#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw x oc#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley rooster x reader#rooster fanfic#rooster fics#rooster x reader#rooster imagine#rooster smut#rooster x y/n#bradley bradshaw fan fic#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley bradsaw x reader#bradley bradshaw fluff
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Bumping Beach Bikini - Rooster
Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw / Wife!Reader
Word Count: 0.8k
This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only
Warnings: Pregnancy; References to Sex/Suggestive Jokes; Flirting; Use of Second Person POV “You,” No Physical Description of Reader (Minus Pregnancy), No Y/N
Summary: Rooster admires the view of his pregnant wife on the beach.
Master List
Bradley had a mental list of the best outfits that he had ever seen you in. There wasn’t a set ranking, just general levels of appreciation.
There was a step above your normal beauty and allure, which mostly included random casual outfits that for whatever reason just got him going. Like the yellow sundress that you wore when it was exceptionally hot out that was super easy to slide his hands under. Or those jean shorts that he loved to slip his hand into the back pocket and give your ass an appreciative squeeze. Or anything of his that you chose to wear.
And the step above those were your slightly dressier outfits that got him even more excited. The backless black dress that you wore out in Vegas when the two of you went out with the Dagger Squad. Or the blue floor length dress that you wore to Maverick and Penny’s wedding that looked like it was literally sculpted for you and your figure. Though he did rip the zipper on that one.
Then there were the more special outfits. Your wedding dress mostly, since he literally burst out into tears the second that he saw you step out in it. The photo of you that he kept in his cockpit was from your wedding day with your veil spread out around you, giving you a completely angelic appearance. And, well, Rooster was also very fond of the matching white lingerie set that you wore underneath it that night too. He did rip that one too though.
And at the very top of the pyramid of his favorite outfits was, of course, your birthday suit. Nothing would ever top that one.
But seeing you in a maternity bikini with one of his Hawaiian shirts wrapped around your shoulders and your baby bump sticking out from between the folds of his shirt—now that was a sight that he ingrained into his mind for the rest of his life. That one really challenged your birthday suit in his mind.
“What?” you laughed, shooting your husband a look as you applied more sunscreen. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You’re glowing,” Bradley praised, still taking in your beauty.
“With sweat,” you giggled, rubbing in another layer of sunscreen. “It’s only spring and I swear I’m melting already.” You set down the tube of sunscreen and shot your husband a playful look. “You just had to make sure that I was heavily pregnant during the hottest months of the year in Southern California, didn’t you, Bradshaw?”
“Maybe you should have done the math before you begged me to get you pregnant,” Bradley replied, a bit smugly.
“I don’t beg,” you scoffed, shooting him a look. “And besides you offered about fifty times before I let you. If anyone was begging, it was you, Bradley.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Rooster mused, smiling over at you.
There was one rule to surviving with a heavily pregnant wife—it was to let you win. On just about everything. Anything health or safety wise, he would argue back, but Rooster took a rain check on all of the little things. And frankly he got more satisfaction out of seeing you happy than being right.
“Do you have enough water?” Rooster asked, sitting up some more.
You reached over and lifted your giant water bottle into the air. Taking a long sip from it just to prove your point to your husband, you set your water bottle back down on the sand.
“I’m fine. Just need some time to relax,” you replied, leaning back in your seat. “Before it all really sets in.”
Reaching down to pick up your ankle, Rooster started to massage your foot, earning a sigh of relief from your lips. Practically melting into your chair, you turned to your husband with a small, thankful smile as you curled your toes a bit.
“I could get used to this.”
“I’m sure you could,” Rooster chuckled, rubbing the back of your calf.
“There’s only one thing that would make this better.”
“What?”
“Take your shirt off.”
“Mrs. Bradshaw,” Rooster jokingly admonished, causing you to smile wider. “Be careful suggesting that. I knocked up the last woman who asked me to take my shirt off in that tone.”
“I’ll take the risk,” you replied with a smile, rubbing your bump slowly.
“So long as you understand the risk,” Rooster returned with a wink.
“Jesus Christ, the rest of us are trying to eat here,” Phoenix cut in, sounding annoyed.
You and Rooster turned to the other Daggers, Maverick, and Penny, who was hiding an amused smile behind her hand. Maverick turned to Penny with a similar expression, shaking his head. But most of the other Daggers, those who were single anyways, shot both you and Rooster somewhat disgusted looks.
“Sorry,” you called sheepishly, waving to them.
“I’m not,” Rooster replied, reaching up to take his shirt off.
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"honey, I'm home" SCREAMS Bradley Rooster Bradshaw
Bradley Bradshaw can not enter a room without letting everyone know he’s there. it’s probably something he inherited from his father, but he is one person who knows how to make an entrance.
The first time he had ever called out that ridiculous yet iconic line, was right after you moved in together. It had caught you off guard, making you round the corner with a questionable look on your face making sure you did in fact here him yell:
“honey, i’m home!” Bradley said again as you stood in the doorway.
“i see that,” You said, shaking your head at him, “And what is this announcement for?”
“Well,” He set down his duffle bag, “I thought I should tell you I was home,” He walked over to you and pulled you into his arms, making you squeal, “So you didn’t think i was an intruder. We’ve only been living together…” Bradley checks his watch, “43 hours and 25 minutes.”
You smile at the mustached man in front of you, “Well thank you for announcing your presence and scaring any potential burglars away.”
“All a part of the ‘living with Bradley Bradshaw’ package you purchased.”
“Yeah?” You bit your lip, your eyes raking over the bit of chest hair that was poking out of the top of his black t-shirt, “What else is included in the package?”
“This,” Bradley quickly hoisted you over his shoulder and carried you upstairs to your new shared bedroom.
#g mail#bradley bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw blurb#rooster blurb#top gun blurb#top gun maverick blurb#bradley bradshaw imagine#rooster imagine#top gun imagine#top gun maverick imagine#bradley bradshaw x reader#rooster x reader
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i will follow you into the dark || bradley
"rooster" bradshaw
summary: your first instinct has always been to push people away when they get too close, but for some reason, you have trouble letting one pilot go. but little did you know that he had settled into your heart from the start and has no intention of leaving. (in which you have Bradley Bradshaw wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even notice—5 occasions that solidify your love for him, and 1 time you realize it)
words: ~3.3k
warnings: angst (BUT A HAPPY ENDING, I PROMISE), near-death experiences, brief mentions of violence, also my writing LMAO
a/n: hi guys i haven't posted a full-length fic in a LONG time but here we go :) this fic won the vote so it's going up first! hope you enjoy :)
I. meet me in the middle
“Mav!”
You and Maverick turned around at the same time. “Which one?”
“The pretty one,” Rooster stated.
“Be more specific.”
“I am being specific, Captain.”
“No, you aren’t.”
“Fine, I need your daughter.���
“You always need her for something.”
“Sorry, pops,” you grinned and clasped Maverick’s shoulder, and walked over to Bradley. “Come to kidnap me again, Bradshaw?”
“Actually, I’m hungry.”
“Then…go eat? I don’t see what any of that has to do with me.”
“I’m going to dinner, and I want you to come along,” he explained. “So, let’s go.”
“Is that why Cyclone was grumbling about someone spilling coffee all over him earlier? I knew it had to be you that put him in that mood.”
“Doesn’t matter. Come on.”
You looked back at your father, who simply laughed and motioned for you to go. The test flight would have to wait.
It was 5:30 when you got there, but the usually-crowded cantina had only one other person inside. Rooster didn’t hesitate as he set down his car keys and slid into the booth right next to you.
“There’s a seat right there,” you pointed out.
“And?”
“You can sit over there.”
“I don’t want to, though.”
“Alright, then.”
You weren’t even done for the day and already, felt tired and worn out beyond belief. The one thing that had been keeping you going was Maverick’s promise to take you on a Mach 7 test flight. (With the Admiral’s permission, of course. But you wouldn’t be surprised if he had never asked.)
Rooster tells the waitress your order without blinking, and you give him a tired smile as a thank you.
There’s no animated conversation, no loud comments or jokes or anything of the sort as the food comes out, but neither of you mind. Sometimes, all you needed to cool down from a long week was each other’s company and a steaming plate of fajitas.
The little routine you’ve established falls into place so easily you don’t even have to think. Impromptu dinners, blasting 80’s music as the sun goes down, taking the offbeat path down to the coast with salt in your windswept hair. Little to no words spoken, and somehow the silence speaks volumes.
But you don’t understand why he’d choose you to do this with, out of everyone. You’d expect him to drift towards someone less damaged. Someone who could keep up to his free and daring spirit and push him to his limits. Someone who had less baggage and didn’t flinch at every little touch.
But despite all that he doesn’t leave. Even when everyone else around you seemed to, he was always there, assuring you he’d wait no matter what.
“Don’t worry about it.” He places a gentle hand over yours as he hands his card over to pay later that evening. “Let me treat you tonight.”
“Thanks…”
He holds the door open for you as you walk out and keeps a ghost of a hand against your back the whole way to the car. You’re trying to burrow into yourself, but he doesn’t stop looking at you. The feeling of his eyes on you sends shivers running down your spine and you nervously shift in your seat.
“You okay?” Rooster places his hand on the headrest as he reverses out of the parking lot. “You seem quiet tonight.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” He doesn’t press any further, assuming that you’re tired and that’s why you’re unwilling to say much. He knows. He understands. “If you ever need to talk, though, I’m one call and a 15 minute walk away. Or 7, if I sprint.”
This makes you laugh a bit. “If you say so.”
II. waiting on you
As soon as you hop out of your plane, he’s the first one there to greet you and pulls you in for a hug. You have no time to react to it because he’s so quick to sweep you up into his arms. You can smell a mix of sweat and coffee and a little bit of raspberries on him, and it helps bring you back down to reality.
“You saw me a few hours ago, Roos…please let me go…” you mumbled into his shoulder. His grip on you only tightens further. “What’s with the excitement?”
“Nothing. I’m just happy to see you.”
Not knowing what else to do, your hands awkwardly reach up to pat him on the back. “It’s good to see you, too.”
Though you don’t say it out loud, you’re also just as happy to see him—it’s comforting to know he’ll be waiting whenever you return from something. And that, you think, is more than enough.
Rooster carries your things for you without asking, and you’re grateful because your shoulders feel like they’re going to fall out of their sockets. Once again, he’s standing close by as you go to your quarters, ever the watchman. If he doesn’t have a hand on you, then his eyes will stay glued to you for as long as they can be.
“Is that my shirt?” he asks as you step out of the bathroom wearing an oversized vintage T-shirt and a pair of jeans.
“No.”
“It looks better on you, anyway.” He smirks; you fail to notice the way his gaze lingers on you a bit longer than normal. “You ready to go? They’re waiting for us at the Hard Deck. Hangman’s complaining about a rematch or somethin’.”
You lean into his side and smile, and he puts an arm across your shoulders. It feels so natural that you almost don’t notice. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
His eyes never leave you, even when he’s in the thick of the game. It’s impossible to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach every time his gaze flickers over to yours.
Coyote notices your dazed look and nudges Payback in the side. “How is it that everyone knows that Bradshaw and Y/N love each other except Bradshaw and Y/N?”
“Because they’re stupid,” Payback whispered back.
“Ah. Makes sense.”
“So, we need to do something about it.”
“Hm…I’d say we wait it out. They’re going in the right direction.” A small smile graced Coyote’s face as Rooster pumped a fist up in victory before rushing over to embrace you. “A room full of people, yet all he sees is her.”
“You’re so right, man.”
III. rose-tinted glasses
“What are you looking for out there?” Rooster called out.
“Something pretty,” you replied as you stood by the ocean’s edge, the wind fanning your hair around your shoulders. He’s sure that he’s never seen a more mesmerizing sight.
“I beat you to it, because I already found one,” he stated with confidence, eyes never leaving you.
“Where?”
“I’m looking right at her.”
“That’s not what I meant, silly. Do I look like a seashell to you?”
“No, you’re even better.”
You laugh once again and resume your search. Right then, a glowing scallop catches your eye, and sand dusts your clothes as you bend down to pick it up. It’s smooth and seems to glow in rose gold amidst the early evening light.
“Would you look at that,” you breathed out, palm extended to show him what you’ve found. “It’s perfect.”
Rooster encloses his hand around yours, and you can feel the heat radiating from his skin. It’s cold out but you’re not freezing at all because he’s so close. He’s so close. Your heart skips a beat.
“Wow…it sure is.”
He kneels down with you, and you spend the next few hours making it a competition to see who can find the most unique set of stones. A strange feeling washed over you as you watched his brows furrow in concentration. Never had you imagined to be spending Thursday night with Bradley Bradshaw by the seashore, and yet, it feels like you’ve done this thousands of times before.
Everything seems to fall into place.
IV. for you, i’d cross the line
“Y/N, hey.”
“Are you drunk?”
“Doesn’t matter. Move over.”
You shifted on the bench to make room for him and he sat down next to you. This was probably his tenth time playing his rendition of ‘Great Balls of Fire’ but that didn’t matter; the man knew how to sing. You found yourself leaning into him and listening to his heartbeat, and the sensation lulled you into a peaceful trance.
You took one good look at your best friend. Sweat lined his forehead and his face was bright red from both the alcohol and heat, but still, you were 100% sure that you’d never seen a more beautiful sight in your life.
The way he seemed to gaze at you made your heartbeat pick up speed. It didn’t matter that he had too one too many drinks in the moments leading up to this, nor did it matter that he was always one to be rather affectionate with you. It didn’t make you love him any less—if anything, it made him all the more endearing.
“You’re looking at me very…intensely,” you mumbled. “It’s making me nervous.”
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured. “A man can’t help it when he’s in love.”
“Was that tipsy you or sober you?”
“Sober me is saying I love you.” He continues playing, unfazed, and the sound of the piano in your ears fades away into nothingness.
It’s drunk Rooster telling you he means what he says, the confidence boost making him do things he normally wouldn’t. It’s drunk Rooster attempting to serenade you as his warm, alcohol-riddled breath falls against your neck. It’s drunk Rooster talking…but there’s a sober truth hidden behind his words that sends a shiver down your spine.
You’re nose-to-nose as he starts to sing, and you lose yourself in a sea of gold and blue as his warm thumb grazes over your cheek. As if there’s an invisible string drawing you together, you move closer and closer towards each other. Drunk or not, he was utterly enchanting and you couldn’t turn away.
Once again…you ignore the stirring feeling in your chest at the feeling of his body being so close to yours.
V. saving grace
You find yourself opening the door to Rooster, who has a bouquet of your favorite flowers and some large Tupperware in hand. Butterflies flutter in your stomach as you accept them and step aside to let him in. “What is this for…?”
“Thought you’d want something nice to add to the kitchen. You and Mav need to work on decorations,” he said. “Why? Do you not like them?”
“No…I’m…how’d you know these were my favorite, anyway?”
“I heard you talking on the phone to Phoenix about them six months ago,” Rooster explained, taking his jacket off and hanging it over the couch. “I pride myself on being observant like that. Also…I woke up early to cook you that pasta you always go nuts over when we drive to LA.”
“Oh.” Your heart twinged as you glanced over—that damn pasta was your favorite thing on the entire planet. You claimed that nobody could make it as well as the diner in Newport did, except Bradley himself. (He didn’t tell you how many times it took to get it just right, though. He didn’t want you freaking out over that. And besides, Maverick’s pots and pans that he borrowed had already paid the price.)
He paused for a moment after setting the container down on the counter. “I noticed you went home early today. Are you sure you’re alright?”
“I’m fine,” you lied as you put the flowers in a vase. But that was no use; he could see right through your monotone response. “Didn’t sleep enough last night.”
Bradley sees your hands tremble slightly. “Sweetheart.”
That’s all he needs to say before you step forward and lean your head against his chest. One arm finds its way around your waist to pull you close, while his free hand smoothes your hair out. A cracked sob escapes your lips and you squeeze your eyes shut in the hopes that if you kept them closed long enough and prayed hard enough, a guardian angel would swoop in and save you.
“I’m here, it’s okay, you’ll be okay,” he murmurs. “You’ll be okay.”
“Please don’t go, Bradshaw,” you begged, voice hoarse. “Don’t leave me.”
“I’m right here, don’t worry,” he reminds you, his hand moving down to rub your back. “I’ll be here whenever you need me, I promise.”
You reach your pinky out a bit, and the two of you link your fingers together.
You’re never letting go, and neither is he.
epilogue—soul ties
“I’m trying to shake them off. They won’t let up—shit, I’m hit—”
His panicked voice cuts through the buzz of static and you can feel your whole body go numb. What if he doesn’t make it back… The thought alone is too much to bear.
He curses under his breath and you hear something like that of a whispered prayer and several mentions of Please let me come home to her. Your heart clenches in your chest and you feel like you’re going to puke. Noticing your sudden uneasiness, Maverick grips your hand to keep you steady.
“Bradshaw, what the hell is going on there?” Coyote nervously rubs at his forehead as he looks up at the screen. “If you die, we’re all going to kill you.”
“Left engine’s completely blown out. I have two bogeys on my tail.”
You bite the inside of your cheek until the tangy, metallic taste of blood fills your mouth. This couldn’t be happening. There already was a ghost amongst the skies, and Rooster could not afford to become the second…
“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, I’m going down, guys—” Rooster curses again, and the earsplitting sound of a large blast interrupts him before he can say much else.
“Bradley!” you shrieked as you watched his radar signal slowly fade off the screen. “No—”
Silence punctures the air and you finally lose balance, succumbing to the black void of nothingness.
—
10 hours later, you sit outside the hospital room in the cold hallway, a thin, tear-stained blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Hangman and Phoenix had long since given up on getting you to move, so they took turns sitting with you.
“You should try eating. There’s In-N-Out nearby, I’ll get something for you if you want,” Jake offered.
You shake your head.
“Come on. It’s been all day.”
“No.”
“You’re really that worried about him, aren’t you.”
“No,” you muttered bitterly.
“You claim to not care, yet you’ve been sitting here for the past ten hours.”
“I don’t care. This is me looking out for him in the same way any colleague or teammate of his would. This is what I’m supposed to do. What we’re all supposed to do.”
“Y/N.” Jake sounds a bit more serious this time, and this makes you stop trying to bury yourself within your thoughts. “Listen to me.”
“What,” you exhaled.
"The fact of the matter here is,” he cleared this throat, “Bradshaw cares about you…a lot. Not in a simple and innocent ‘friendly’ way. And if you keep pushing him away like you always do, all 'cause you're scared, you're gonna lose him for good. Losing a good man out of fear is never worth the cost."
Your heart stops.
Every hug, every word and cheesy pickup line, every lingering glance and touch and intertwined set of fingers—he'd fallen first long ago, and pulled you down with him. But you let him, and you'll walk to the ends of the earth if it means he'll hold your hand along the way. And that's when everything hits all at once—the realization comes crashing down like a waterfall.
You were hopelessly in love with him, the man who brings you flowers every Friday night. In love with the man who holds the door open for you, gives you his favorite jackets, and stays up late or wakes up early to learn your favorite comfort meal (even if it means failing 17 times in the process and ruining Maverick's kitchen), the man who serenades you to classic rock ballads with the taste of rum on his lips.
This was Rooster Bradshaw, and he was your soulmate.
“But I already lost him,” your voice falters as you struggle to find the right words to say, “I can’t.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. That man is going to stay waiting for you until the day his body is buried six feet underground. Deny it all you want, but he’ll keep waiting long after he takes his last breath.”
You let out a long sigh and stood up. “Okay.”
You’re hesitant as you step inside the small hospital room. He’s asleep, but he must’ve sensed your presence and his eyes flutter open.
“Sweetheart…”
“Bradley.” He moves over a bit for you, and you sit down next to him. “You’re alive.”
“Sorry for not dying. That must’ve disappointed you,” he jokes. If he’s in any sort of pain, he manages to mask it behind a soft smile. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
“I waited ten hours.”
“You should’ve gone home and slept.”
Closing your eyes, you rest your head against his chest. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing that you weren’t okay.”
He hums some tune against the crook of your neck; lips brushing over your skin. “But I came back, like I promised. I’m okay, because you are.”
Helovesmehelovesmehelovesme.
As if he could read your mind, he leans in just that bit closer. You look up at him and your heart somersaults in your chest.
When your lips meet, everything clicks into place and it’s like you finally found the missing puzzle piece you’d been searching for. He was here all along; it made so much sense. Everything else fades away into the background as you get lost in the feeling of him and him alone. You knew from the moment he stuck out his hand and told you with a million-dollar smile “I’m Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, and I can make a mean lasagna or anything else you want,” that choosing him would be the single best thing you ever could’ve done.
And you were most certainly right about that now.
“I kept it, you know.” he murmurs as you eventually break away, “I didn’t think it would last as long as it did, but here it is.”
“What…what are you talking about?”
He fingers dip below the scoop of his T-shirt and he brings out the glittering charm, laying it in his hand. “You gave it to me ages ago. It was a while ago but I still remember the exact time and place. August 5th, 2010, 2:26 a.m. We were both on the verge of falling asleep.”
Your heart grows warmer. “Roos…”
Rooster opens the locket, and inside is a picture of you beaming as you wrapped your arms around him from behind. So young and so in love, but not yet knowing how you felt about each other.
“I think this is what kept me alive up there. I was in the air long enough to think about and reflect on the fact that I was dying, but I knew I had to come home to you. I was dying, Y/N, but you saved me. If you didn’t come into my life right when you did then I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be telling you that I love you.”
He has you at a loss for words yet again. It didn’t matter that you’d known each other for years because he would always find a way to steal your breath. The once-tiny caterpillars crawling in your stomach had morphed into giant butterflies that never stopped fluttering when he came too close.
He leans in and he’s kissing you again; this time it’s like you’re his sole source of oxygen and he’s in desperate need of fresh air. Your grip on his hand tightens as he deepens the kiss, and you pray to God that your heart won’t explode into a million pieces like it did when you thought you wouldn’t see him again.
I’ve died and come back to life twice now, Rooster tells himself.
And both of those times, you’re the angel that magically appears to save him from a certain, unfortunate fate.
tags, including people who may be interested (sorry if this list seems off, it hasn't been updated in a while hahah): @sarcastic-sourwolf @totomoshi @sebastianstangirl01 @purelyfiction @lunamoonbby @hazelgirl355 @multifandom-fangirl4 @paintballkid711 @buckysbeloved @lyn-lc @spawn0fsatan @milestomaverick @teacactusworld @cherry-waved @ellabellabus07 @vitanileon @lam-ila @criminalyetminimal @whatlovegattado @queenbbarnes @yeehawnana @t-stark35 @thesunsetphantoms @danirose-0420 @callalily2000 @the-untamed-soul @shizzybarnaclee @bananaa @luvfurdogs @shalaniela @unordinare @and-claudia @lgg5989 @katiemcrae @elenavampire21 @joyfullyswimmingface @nyx2021 @cosm1cfae @ellabellabus07 @vane28282 @bittergomez @littlebadariell @tallrock35 @whotfatemywaffles @hoedameronsworld @aerangi @julia-marshal @uwiuwi
(also if you filled out the general taglist form/top gun taglist form and you're not on here, that means i couldn't tag you for some reason)
#top gun#top gun: maverick#bradley bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw fanfic#top gun fanfic#top gun fic#rooster x reader#bradley bradshaw imagine#rooster bradshaw x reader#miles teller#bradley bradshaw fluff#bradley bradshaw x y/n#top gun maverick fic#top gun fanfiction#bradley bradshaw x you
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*~.It’s so comforting to know I can stay up till 2 am reading the most toe curling, filthy, plotless smut in a warm bed on thanksgiving break. This is what the holidays are all about. *~.
#fanfiction#x reader#smut#i love fanfiction#I have no life#living out my fantasies through Fanfiction#my a03#spencer reid smut#eddie munson smut#kpop smut#mha smut#bucky barnes smut#doctor stephen strange#i want his kids#bts smut#harry potter smut#steve harrington smut#rooster smut#ateez smut#bradley bradshaw imagine
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actually, it’s captain.
Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x f!reader
summary: request for @kpopgirlbtssvt. rooster’s girl is hit on by Top Gun students.
t/w: touch her, you d i e trope. cursing. mentions of alcohol.
Rooster leans against the bar, laughing at something Penny tells him. His jeans hang low on his hips, and he’s wearing the Hawaiian shirt you bought him for his birthday.
Rooster’s hand slaps the bar as he continues to howl. Penny and Mav exchange a look. Maverick murmurs something to Penny. Your guess would be “it wasn’t that funny.”
You throw back the rest of your drink. As your glass returns to the table, a group of men circle you, all clad in khaki. Must be new Top Gun recruits.
“What’s a pretty little gal like you sittin’ here alone for?” one of them asks you, his accent very similar to Hangman’s.
“Mind if we join ya?” the second asks. Before you can reply, two of the slide in across from you, while the one who spoke first sits next to you. His burly arm comes up around your shoulder. You stiffen under him, feeling small.
And not in the way you feel with Rooster. He makes you feel small, protected, but also empowered. This guy has a hold on you like he’s claiming you. Telling every other guy in the bar he plans on taking you home.
“This here’s Crane and Sorry,” he points to the two in front of you. “And you can call me Pleasure. As in, it’s a pleasure to meet you. As in, the way all ladies feel after a night with me.” He winks. He actually winks.
Your brain is so shocked, you can’t form words. You should take this guy’s arm and bend it behind your back, the way your dad taught you. You should give him on of your grade-a verbal lashings.
But you don’t. The sheer audacity of this man has you frozen.
You try to make eye contact with Rooster, but Pleasure’s frame blocks your view.
“Get your hands off my girlfriend, asshole.” Rooster’s voice makes a relieved breath come from your mouth. His tone of voice would make anyone run for the hills, but it leaves you full of wanting.
Pleasure chuckles, meeting Rooster’s gaze. “Actually, it’s Lieutenant.”
Crane and Sorry exchange an amused look. Rooster’s face is set in a hard line. He reaches for Pleasure’s bicep, ripping him from the booth.
“I said to get your hands off my girlfriend, asshole.” Rooster is a whole head taller than the aviator that just had himself draped on you.
“Shouldn’t leave your girl all alone, dick.” Pleasure tells him, bowing up. Rooster’s mouth pulls up on the left, giving him one of his infamous cocky smirks. Second only to Hangman’s.
“Actually, it’s Captain. And I hope to God you’re in one of my classes. Lieutenant.”
At this, you see Pleasure audibly gulp, knowing he’s fucked up. Rooster still has a death grip on his arm.
“Come on, man. Make my day,” the words come out laced with venom.
Before things can get out of hand, you hop out of the booth and high tail it to Penny. Quickly giving her a synopsis, she rings the bell, signaling these guys need to be thrown out. Hangman, Omaha, and Coyote each grab one of the guys and drag them to the exit.
Rooster joins you at the bar, taking your face in his hands. Those brown eyes roam over you, searching.
Your hands come up to cradle his face, “Roos, I’m fine.”
“When I saw him draped over you, I saw red. Nobody touches my girl.” He leans down to place a kiss against your temple. Rooster’s words have your toes curling in your shoes. You’ve never seen this side of him.
You lower your hands to his shoulders, threading one of them in his curly hair that’s definitely longer than Military regulation.
“You’re the only one I want touching me,” you murmur in his ear, your face flushing.
“Yeah?” he murmurs back.
Not trusting your voice to not come out completely needy, you nod.
“Come on, guys. Quit being disgusting,” Maverick says to the two of you, feigning gagging.
Penny pops his hand over the bar, eliciting a laugh from him.
Rooster ignores him, placing a deep kiss onto your mouth.
“Take me home, baby,” you say, taking in those brown eyes.
“I don’t know, pretty girl, I don’t think I can get further than the Bronco,” he winks.
#top gun maverick#top gun#top gun maverick fic#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x y/n#rooster x reader#rooster fluff#rooster imagine#rooster x oc#rooster fanfic#rooster top gun#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw x reader#rooster bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw
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Somebody to Love
Summary: Attending a cookout hosted by Penny seemed like the perfect way to kickstart summer. Meeting and falling in love there wasn't on yours or Bradley's bingo list.
Warnings: Language, Bradley being a loverboy, female reader
For @roosterforme's Rocktober event! I'm so sorry it took so long and hope you enjoy it!
The first time you saw Bradley was at the Hard Deck.
He completely missed you, as much as it pains him to admit.
In his defense, his eyes were on the ivory keys of the piano, only looking up briefly to revel in the cheers from guests of the Hard Deck as he played.
You, in his defense, were just trying to get in and out. Considering it was barely seven, you thought you were coming in before things got rowdy.
You were mistaken.
The show he was putting on was nice to watch while you waited for Penny to be free. But that's all it was, a show. And after a while, you couldn't help but scoff. Was being in the Navy not enough attention?
The smile on Penny's face when her eyes met yours was worth the wait. You pulled out the coveted book from your bag, raising it in the air as if it were the golden ticket.
"Amelia is going to be so excited," Penny beamed as she took the book from you, "She's been talking about it for weeks!"
The mention of your former student brought a smile to your face.
Amelia was a student during your first year of teaching. You felt a kinship to the young girl, whose parents were going through a divorce at the time. You also saw that her love of reading was untapped, blocked by years of past teachers failing to help her learn how to read.
So you worked with her the whole year, and the summer after that, helping the girl catch up. One summer, Penny offered a bartender job when she heard you were looking for extra money. Over time, the Benjamin women had become more like family than your own.
It's why you stayed in touch. Why you took on extra shifts occasionally during the school year, when Penny truly needed help at the last minute. Why you made the trip out to the Hard Deck simply to give a book.
"Stay for a drink? It's on the house," Penny held up an empty glass, hoping the way it gleamed in the light could entice you into staying.
But you looked around, taking in how many people were there, how loud it was. How the man wearing aviators and a Hawaiian shirt was feeding the crowd with the piano rendition of a song that sounded familiar.
And simply shook your head.
"Should get going, it is a school night." The truth was, you'd rather be at home, in your bed reading than staying out late with a bunch of pilots.
Before you could say goodbye, Penny placed a hand on yours.
"Before you go Birdie, I wanted to let you know that we're celebrating Amelia's middle school graduation two weeks from Saturday. We'd love to have you there."
You smiled, sincerely flattered that they would want you present for such an event, "I'd love to. Will your man of the hour be there?"
A giggle escaped from you when you saw Penny's cheeks begin to turn pink.
Bradley swears if he had looked over at that moment, he wouldn't have let you leave the Hard Deck that night.
—------------------------
Bradley Bradshaw was not anti-romance, despite what his friends claimed, despite the numerous times he's turned down someone wanting to set him up.
The idea of romance did appeal to him. The idea of spending the rest of his life with one person, who loved him and wanted to grow a family with him, was very appealing in theory.
He wasn't against it at all. Just cautious.
Cautious as he witnessed first hand how dangerous his job was, how it tore families apart. Hesitant because he grew up with the aftermath- the support groups, the sympathetic looks, the empty dining chair that served as a loud, always present reminder of what he and his mother had lost.
He had been on dates, had been in relationships. They never went anywhere and Bradley was fine with that. The possibility that he may not come back from his deployments lingered in his mind, as did the image of someone receiving a flag and maybe his dog tags.
Why put someone through that?
“It's hard, but I wouldn't change a thing about it. You'll understand when it happens to you.”
His mother’s words rang in his ears. He knew she meant well. Bradley knew those words were true for her.
But he couldn't see them being true for himself.
So he came to Amelia’s graduation party with a vegetable tray and no date, despite Penny’s insistence that he could bring someone.
It's why Bradley walked straight past the kitchen, ignoring the unfamiliar voices. It's why he kept to the people he knew, rather than mingle with strangers.
And that was fine, enjoyable even. Things were going the way they always went, the way Bradley wanted it.
Consistent.
Bradley Bradshaw lived for consistency. Each morning, he'd get up and go to work. Work hard until his bones ache. Spend time with friends and the makeshift family he had found. Go to bed alone. Rinse and repeat.
Consistent.
Everything was just fine, until Bradley felt a hand grip his shoulder. When he turned around, he found Jake and his fiancé, Danica (or Venus, as everyone called her), looking at him.
“Your future wife is in the kitchen. Get in there.”
—-------------------------------
Bob saw her first.
It was hard to miss the sound of classic rock blaring from her red Subaru.
The sounds of eighties rock was a nice change from the Jerry Lewis and Sinatra music Bradley insisted on playing.
Even nicer was her voice. Sweet, smooth, light.
She was clearly in her own world, unaware she had an audience.
Nor would she. Bob knew better than anyone the pains of people walking in on him. So he quietly got out of his car, leaving her to finish the song by herself.
Reuben was the first one to speak to her.
Or rather, his daughter was.
Ava, always determined to explore, ran into the kitchen as soon as he set her on the ground.
It was easy to find her. Despite being only two, Ava had quite the voice on her.
Given her shouts about cookies, Reuben wasn’t surprised when he found his daughter in the kitchen, pointing excitedly to a plate of sugar cookies.
He was a little surprised to see that the person kneeling down to talk to her wasn’t Penny, but rather a woman he had never seen before.
“Is it okay if I give her a cookie?” She asked, motioning to the sugar cookie she was holding in her hand.
“As long as you're able to cut her off after two,” Reuben chuckled, “I'm warning you now, she can be hard to convince.”
You smiled, the corners of your eyes crinkling, the bridge of your nose scrunching up as you looked at Ava, “It'll be tough, but I think I can manage.”
Javy was the first one to try to include her in the picnic festivities.
“Hey, don't tell them this is what we’re calling them, but we’re playing beer pong against the old timers in the basement. You in?” He asked.
“Oh I'm good, but don't worry, your secret is safe with me,” She said with a gentle smile and a wink.
It was the fact that she sounded assured, content to stay in the kitchen and continue making small talk with some of the wives, away from the hubbub of the picnic, that made him not push.
Natasha was the first one to have an actual conversation with her.
In a sea full of testosterone, it was hard not to notice another woman. Especially one who looked around her age.
“So how do you know Penny?” You looked rather surprised by Nat’s question, surprised that another person had noticed you in the kitchen and decided to converse.
“Oh, I'm, well, I was Amelia’s third grade teacher. I tutored her for a couple of summers and have helped Penny bartend when she needs extra help,” you explained.
Natasha recalls Penny mentioning you a few times, now able to put a face to the name.
“So you're the teacher! Penny said we might see you at the Hard Deck this summer,” Nat grinned, hoping it would help her feel more at ease.
“I am! I'm still figuring out how exactly I want to spend my summer. First time I won't be doing summer school or tutoring,” you explained, continuing to wash the dishes that had begun to pile up on the counter.
“Any travel plans? Or family you plan to visit?” Nat asked.
You shook your head, eyes appearing dismal for a brief moment, “I don't have much family to visit. But I have been meaning to explore the area more, so I might do that.”
Natasha knew not to press. You didn't owe her any further explanation.
But out of all people, Jake Seresin was the one to make the connection.
“I’m sorry, but what did Penny just call you?” He asked, jamming a finger up his ear to clean it out, convinced he heard it wrong.
“Oh, Birdie!” you explained, flustered, “It’s um….it’s always been a nickname that friends and family have called me, ever since I was a kid. When I told Penny, she started calling me that too.”
Jake recalls the other details he's learned; a love of classic rock, vintage clothes and children, how your face lit up when someone spoke to you, as though you had been waiting an awfully long time to be noticed, to be acknowledged.
Your nickname.
It hits Jake like a fucking freight train.
“Excuse me, I have to go uh, um, find my wife,” he said abruptly, practically running out of the kitchen.
Jake quickly found his Venus, tapping her on the shoulder as he ignored the death glare Phoenix was giving him for interrupting.
“What is-”
“Birdie. Her nickname is Birdie.”
Danica’s amber-glazed eyes widened as she shot Natasha a knowing look.
“Where is she?”
Which is how Bradley Bradshaw found himself being dragged away from the grill and into Penny's house.
After all, Bradley didn't have too much common sense. He would insist he was alright, despite losing his beat as he watched his close friends fall in love and get married.
So they were just helping, helping him find somebody to love.
“Y'all are being ridiculous, just because she likes the same music-”
“It's more than that. You just need to see for yourself,” Jake explained, pushing him towards the kitchen. Inside, a sweet voice was talking.
“Peekaboo! I see you!” He could hear a big smile through your voice, “Now it's Ava’s turn!”
Bradley turned the corner to find you sitting cross legged on the kitchen floor, enabling you to be somewhat closer to eye level with Ava. You and the little toddler were both full of giggles as you continued your game.
Ava’s small hands flew up to her face, covering her eyes. It was an adorable sight, how she was trying to say the words. A bright smile adorned your face, eyes shining as you played with her.
“Where did Ava go?” You asked, pretending to look, “There she is!”
A warmth flooded Bradley’s heart as he watched this mysterious woman interact with Ava. It felt familiar,childhood memories of his mom flooding back. But this time, instead of feeling sorrow, a pleasantness surrounded him.
Strange.
Ava babbled, causing you to giggle once more.
“My name is Birdie. Can you say Birdie?”
Oh.
So that was why everyone thought this was his future wife.
It was a cute coincidence, nothing more. Yes, it was beyond endearing to watch you interact with Ava, you were obviously great with kids.
“Roo!” Ava’s coos of her special nickname for Bradley broke him out of his thoughts.
“What's a Roo?” You asked, your eyebrows knitted together in confusion. The puzzled look on your face was adorable.
“That would be me. Hey Ava girl,” Bradley kneeled down, his arms open wide, allowing Ava to run over and hug him.
You instantly recognized him thanks to the memorable mustache. But his smile and eyes were much softer now. His whole demeanor is less cocky and more approachable in Penny’s kitchen.
Bradley scooped the young toddler into his arms, grinning as Ava giggled.
“You being good? Trying to persuade people to give you more cookies by being adorable?” Bradley asked the toddler.
“I'm holding out strong. Don't want her dad to hate me for giving her a sugar rush,” You explained, a soft smile on your face as you watched him interact with Ava.
“See, the key is to make sure the sugar rush happens when he takes her home,” Bradley grinned, “That way he can't do anything about it.”
“I'm sure he can ask around regarding who gave her all that sugar though,” you retorted, facing the sink again to continue the dishes.
“See, that's where you have the advantage; you're not in the group chat,” Bradley balanced Ava on a hip, walking over to the sink to join you.
You were fun to talk to; able to hold your own with a soft, yet slightly mischievous smile adorning your face.
“I'm Bradley,” he explained, the spirit of his mother probably screaming that it took him this long to introduce himself.
“I take that's your actual name, considering that's way too normal to be your callsign,” normally you wouldn't tease a complete stranger like this. But he was easy to talk to and it helped that he was holding an adorable baby like a complete natural.
“It is. My callsign is Rooster.” The information caused your hands to still.
“Rooster?” It was too wild to be a coincidence.
“Yeah, when I was part of my first squadron, I was always the first one to be up. But I also had a tendency to be well, louder than what they would have preferred, which is how I got my callsign Rooster.” Bradley smiled as he recalled the loud complaints of his squadron, which always seemed to die down once they learned he was making breakfast.
“I, love that. Sorry, I, it's funny your callsign is that. Because it's like a nickname right? My nickname is Birdie,” your speech quickened as you realized you were rambling, “I know that nicknames aren't the same as callsigns. Well, in a way they are, they're both given to you for a reason, right? It's just funny how our nicknames are both-”
“Excuse me?” You looked up to see your savior came in the form of a bespectacled man who was standing by the door.
“I was threat-I mean, told by Danica and Phoenix that I needed to get Ava,” The man said, walking over to Bradley.
“Bo!” Ava exclaimed, reaching for the man.
“Sure thing Bob,” Bradley said, hanging over the toddler to his friend, unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes at his friends’ schemes.
“C'mon Ava, let's leave the two soon to be lovebirds alone,” Bob whispered, out of the room before Bradley could say anything.
“Did he just… “
Bradley sighed, “Gotta watch out for that one. He's quiet but can be cheeky when he wants to be.”
“As opposed to the others, who are just outright cheeky?” You asked.
Bradley chuckled, “You're catching on. Here, I can dry while you wash?”
He could be spending time with his squadron. Could be spending time joking with Mav’s old squad, making jokes and talking about the past that he was too young to remember. Could be anywhere but here in the kitchen, helping you do dishes.
And yet, he didn't mind it at all. Bradley was finding himself enjoying his conversation with you, despite knowing it would earn him several eye rolls and shoulder shoves from Danica and Jake.
You were surprised he was still here, that he hadn't found an excuse to leave.
It was a nice change.
“So you're the teacher Penny talks about?”
You laughed, “Is that who I'm known as? You're like the third person to ask me that.”
“Just shows how big of an impact you had.” Your cheeks warmed at the praise.
“You know, you just try your best. Make sure to listen. Helps that I'm also a child of divorce, you know? Had a lot of pointers,” you shrugged, but it was clear you were downplaying your efforts.
“Have you always wanted to be a teacher?” Bradley asked, wanting to keep the conversation going, despite the dishes being done.
You took your hands out of your pockets, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. Your shoulders shrug as a small smile spreads across your lips.
“Yeah. I love helping folks, especially kids. I was a camp counselor all throughout high school and I just….felt at home when I was helping other people,” you explained.
You leaned forward, the scent of jasmine flooding Bradley’s nostrils.
“It makes sense that I became a teacher. But if you asked me as a kid what I wanted to do as a grown up, I wouldn't have said teaching.”
Bradley leaned forward. With the sunlight hitting him, you could now see the lighter shades of brown that adorned his curls.
“A mom. I’ve always wanted to be a mom.”
“You'll understand when it happens to you.”
Oh. Okay.
That's when Bradley Bradley finally gets it. Because he's imagining life with you; moving in together, getting married, having kids. The risk is still there. But he'd rather live with that risk and you than not at all.
“I know that's silly, but it's true. I mean, it's not even an occupation-”
“I said I wanted to be a dad when I grew up.”
Your eyes light up at his admission, feeling at ease and less like a rambling burden.
“You must have had a really great Dad then.” There was a flash of sorrow in his eyes at the mention of his father.
“From what I remember. I was only four when he died, but….from what I remember, he was great,” his voice was softer now, his eyes showing he was in another place.
You inched closer to him, “I'm really sorry, I'm sure that was hard for you and your mom.”
“It wasn't easy. But she always said she wouldn't change anything. Never really understood that until recently.” His shoulder is touching yours, his long fingers inches away from your thighs. You were hyper aware of the closeness, unsure if moving away would be proper or offensive.
“Something helped you have that revelation?”
“Moreso someone.”
It's impossible to not notice the way his stare lingers on you, how his smile is warm and those whisky eyes are shining bright as he sends a wink your way. It makes your heart flutter; no one has ever looked at you that way before.
Nerves begin to overtake your brain, causing you to look away from his intense gaze.
“Should we um, get back to the picnic?” You all but mumbled. There's no desire to leave him, but you don't want to get your hopes up.
“Can I at least get your number before we do that?” Bradley asks, eagerly getting out his phone.
Bradley Bradshaw hates accidents, except for the one that led him to this kitchen, to you.
His forwardness is uncharted territory. There's no wondering or second guessing; Bradley wants to stay in touch, wants to keep talking to you.
It's nice. It's unfamiliar. It's exciting. It's sending your doubts and anxiety into a tailspin.
Your fingers fumble for your phone, opening up a new contact for him to fill out. His fingers brush against yours when he hands you his phone, little sparks flying up your spine.
Bradley simply smiles when your eyes look at the screen of his phone. Your brows knit together in confusion, the bridge of your nose scrunching up as you read over the words again and again, eyes surely playing tricks on you.
“Um, I think you made a mistake Bradley?” you hold up his phone, “The name for this contact is Mrs. Bradshaw?” It also has a heart emoji next to it, but that wasn't worth mentioning.
“Oh, it's no mistake,” Bradley grins.
The only sound you can let out is a confused huh.
“You just gotta put your number right there, and then you're all set.” Bradley points to it, an assured smile remaining on his face.
“Are you….are you going to change the name?” You asked, dumbfounded.
Bradley shrugs, “Nah. I'll know it's you. But I can put the word ‘future’ in parentheses if you want it to be more accurate.”
Your fingers have a mind of their own, typing in those desired ten numbers. Bradley takes his phone from your hands but not before placing a gentle kiss on your burning cheek.
His lips feel soft, the hairs of his mustache gently tickling your skin. When you turn your head, your lips are now inches away from yours.
You try to ground yourself, try to look away from his lips, try to ignore the warm, fuzzy feeling that's overtaking your body.
“Sorry Birdie, but I'm old fashioned. First kiss shouldn't be until the first date,” He winks.
What floors you more, his confidence or his bold desire for you?
Raising an eyebrow, you ask, “And when will that be?”
Bradley chuckles, “Whenever you want Birdie.”
He can't be serious. But what would he gain from leading you on, other than Penny’s wrath?
You straighten your shoulders, trying to hold your own against his large frame.
“Tomorrow at six,” You muster up all the confidence you can, preparing yourself for him to drop the act.
“Done. Do you prefer Italian or French?”
“Neither as I'm lactose intolerant.” This was it. Was he going to stop the act, once he knew it would require more effort.
“How do you feel about Thai? I know a great spot. Never been but it's been praised by Jake and Danica and let me tell you, that woman does not give out praise easily.”
You giggled, “I could tell. By the way, is there a reason he calls her Venus?”
“Short version; he's obsessed with her. Been that way since they met in the parking lot of a coffee shop. You should ask them how they met; they give different answers and it's hilarious,” Bradley explains, a gleam in his eyes as he thinks about one of his favorite couples.
“I'd like that. But if you go with me,” you asked, “Kinda random to just walk up to a couple you don't know and ask how they met.”
Again, you expect Bradley to falter. He's clearly more outgoing than you, so why would he want someone whose first instinct wasn't to strike up a conversation with strangers?
“I will, but only if you confirm we’re on for Thai tomorrow at six.”
Surely, he couldn't be serious. But that sweet smile and shining brown eyes said otherwise.
“You really gonna take me out?” you crossed your arms over your chest.
“Of course! I mean, I'm more than happy to take you out tonight, but you said tomorrow, so I'm sticking to it. Plus, it gives me time to get you flowers. Speaking of which, what are your favorite? You seem like a sunflower gal,” his eyes reminded you of an eager puppy, absolutely endearingly adorable.
“What makes you think that?” He was absolutely right, but you wouldn't let him know that yet.
Bradley shrugged, “When you smile, it reminds me of sunshine. Also, if it want to get technical, birds also like sunflower seeds.”
You couldn't help but throw your head back and laugh. Your laugh was sweet, bursting with joy. It calmed down Bradley’s racing heartbeat.
“And what should I get you, Rooster? Corn meal?”
His corniness almost made you forget that he literally compared you to the sun.
Almost.
His laugh was deep, bellowing deep from his stomach, making you feel warm all over.
“You kill me Mrs. Bradshaw, now let's go get you that story,” He gently takes your hand into his, entwining his fingers with yours.
The nickname makes you less confused and more certain Bradley would be sticking around.
#my writing#bradley bradsaw x reader#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley rooster x reader#bradley rooster x y/n#rooster x reader#rooster x you#rooster bradshaw#rooster top gun#bradley bradshaw fluff
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Aim for the Sky Part 1 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Deployments feel longer when you're alone and pregnant. You know Bradley wants to be home for all of the milestones, but you also know he trusts you to take care of yourself. That trust goes both ways when it feels like ages since you've heard from him.
Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing, pregnancy
Length: 4000 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32
You hadn't spoken to your husband in more than three weeks. Not once since he left on a deployment of undetermined length. When you were on base, tucked away in your office or working on a project in the lab, it wasn't so bad. You could almost get lost in the idea of heading home to start dinner and find him working on a project. You could nearly pretend he'd be ready to wrap you up in his arms and ask about your day. But you knew better than to drift all the way into that daydream, because he wasn't there, and you didn't know when he would be back.
At least Tramp greeted you with excitement when you walked in each day, but you suspected that was partially because he knew you were about to feed him. Your friends kept you busy on the weekends, and Jake stopped by the Craftsman on occasion with Jeremiah when Cat needed a break. Today, he even made a comment about the multitude of pallets lined up on your driveway that prevented you from pulling all the way up to where you usually parked.
"When Rooster gets back, I'll give him a hand building that jungle gym," Jake drawled as you handed a cracker to Jeremiah. "We'll have it finished in a weekend, and then Jer can test it out."
You watched Jake kiss Cat's son on the cheek as you said, "He can teach the Nugget all about the slide and the swings when the time comes." Your belly felt a little tender as you ran your hand over your shirt, loving the feel of the bump beneath your fingers. You were nineteen weeks along, and when Bradley left, you'd still looked just bloated. Now you were starting to get round in all the places that made you excited for what was to come. And after so many weeks of non stop nausea and vomiting, you were happy you could finally eat.
Jake snorted. "You've taken to calling the baby a Nugget, too? Thought that was just your husband."
You rolled your eyes and flicked his arm. "Maybe I miss him, okay? Like a lot." Your voice shook even though you were trying for a teasing tone, and Jake's features softened. You quickly asked, "Are you two staying for dinner?"
Jeremiah was such a sweet toddler, and you were so lonely today, you were hoping Jake would say yes. But he kissed you on the cheek before he said, "Not tonight. I told Cat we'd be home by six."
You just nodded, once again afraid your voice might shake. You'd be fine; it wasn't like you needed someone with you all the time. It wasn't like you couldn't get through the night.
Once they were gone, you made yourself some dinner and ate it while you stood at the kitchen counter. Occasionally you dropped some bites for Tramp who snapped them up out of the air before anything ever hit the ground.
"Don't tell your dad that this is the reason you beg at the table," you muttered as he sat next to your foot and wagged his tail wildly. Even the veterinarian didn't know exactly how old he was, but he still seemed like a puppy sometimes. You could already picture him and the baby playing together.
Your gaze caught on the newest set of ultrasound photos which you had stacked up at the end of the kitchen counter. The appointment with Dr. Morris made you cry afterwards, because Bradley wasn't there to gush over the baby. You drove his Bronco that day, and you sat quietly trying to compose yourself while enveloped in his smell. He had some older ultrasound images tucked in the sun visor, and you wanted him to see the new ones so badly, you ached.
"I'm going to get ready for bed," you groaned at Tramp even though it was still early. You took a bath with the floating thermometer Bradley bought for you to use while pregnant. You drank a can of ginger ale instead of your preferred pink champagne, and you listened to one of the playlists he made for you.
When you were climbing in bed, you took the note he left you from your nightstand. It was folded into a paper airplane that looked exactly like his tattoo. He'd even written Baby Girl on it like always. Very carefully, you unfolded it and read the short message that you already had memorized, because it just meant something more in his handwriting.
I love both of you so much, sometimes I feel like I'm dreaming. Nothing could be this good. There's no way I get to return home to everything I ever wanted. I don't know when I'll be back, so I need you to take care of yourself and the Nugget until I can take over my duties again. I won't be gone a minute longer than I need to be.
You shut your light off before your tears could fall, and Tramp snuggled in next to you. When you thought about Bradley, you pictured him in his bunk. Maybe he was alone. Maybe he was with Reuben. Maybe he was rooming with a different officer. But it didn't matter, because you could easily imagine him practically spilling out of the narrow bed, one knee bent with the pink and blue notebook propped up while he wrote to the baby.
When your phone started ringing in the pitch darkness, you jumped, practically falling out of bed as you reached for your lamp and phone at the same time. It was a FaceTime call. It said restricted caller. You screeched his name, far too loud for your voice which has been resting just seconds ago. You shoved your glasses into place so you could see him, and shouted, "Bradley! Roo! Are you okay?"
"Hey, Baby Girl," he crooned, and his smiling face came into focus. You practically dropped your phone as he said, "I'm fine. Sorry it's so late."
You felt giddy laughter bubbling up inside you; the idea of your husband apologizing for calling and making your whole week was absurd. "No, no, no, this is perfect," you insisted. "This is great.
Bradley laughed and said, "I miss you so fucking much. Wish I was in bed right there with you."
"Me too," you replied. "It got chilly here tonight, and Tramp isn't as snuggly as you are." You missed his warmth and voice so much. It was almost Halloween, and the nights felt way too long.
His voice was just a whisper as he said, "Tell me about the Nugget."
Your smile felt overpowering. "Dr. Morris said the Nugget looked great when I was there two weeks ago."
"Two weeks ago," he groaned, rubbing his hands along his face. "Sweetheart... I already missed so much." When he looked at the screen again, you were out of bed and on the move. "Where are you going?"
You flipped on the hallway light and said, "To get the ultrasounds to show you. I left them on the kitchen counter."
You propped up your phone and held up one of the photos so he could see the baby. "There's my Nugget," he said, voice thick with emotion as you held up a second image. "Fucking cutest baby I've ever seen."
You couldn't help but laugh, feeling better than you had in weeks. "I liked this one the best. I think it looks like the baby is waving hello."
"Shit," he gasped. "You're right. I can't wait to wallpaper our bedroom with copies of these."
You pulled the ultrasound away and gasped, "You're probably not even joking."
"I'm definitely not even joking."
You leaned on the counter and got a little closer to your phone as you whispered, "Another week or so, and I can go in for an anatomy scan."
Now you felt guilty as he nodded with his lips pressed together. "You get to find out if the Nugget is a boy or a girl."
Tears stung your eyes. You could already imagine him holding the baby in his arms, loving him or her no matter what. "Yeah," you said with a nod. "But I don't really want to do that without you there too."
It took him a moment to respond. "I wish I could get home in time to hold your hand and find out in person. But you know I don't care one way or the other. The only nice thing is that we can start narrowing down baby names soon. I actually wrote down a few that I kind of like in the Nugget notebook earlier."
Your heart swelled. "I can't wait to read all of your notebook entries. And if you're not home for my next appointment, I'll be practically vibrating with anticipation until I get to tell you if it's a boy Nugget or a girl Nugget."
You wanted to show him how your belly looked more curvy now, but when you and he both parted your lips to speak, you heard someone shouting in the same room as him on the aircraft carrier. Now your husband wasn't looking at you at all.
"Bradshaw! It's time. Get into your flight suit."
"Yes, Sir," Bradley said before glancing back down.
"You have to go," you sobbed, unaware that you were actually crying until you heard yourself.
"I do," he said quickly. "Right now. Listen, I love you. More than anything. You and the baby both, okay? I love you."
"I love you, too," you sobbed as your lips trembled. "So much."
"I'll be home soon," he told you earnestly. "I love you."
Then you were standing alone in your kitchen at 4:48 in the morning with tears streaming down your face. The abrupt end to the call set your nerves on edge just seconds after you had been feeling so good. You gripped the edge of your kitchen counter; that wasn't a regular call to order, that was the start of his mission you just witnessed.
There was no chance of you falling asleep again, so you let yourself cry while Tramp put his head down on your bare foot and licked your ankle.
-------------------------------------
Halloween came, and you could barely manage to give out candy to the neighborhood kids. You'd had Bradley with you for the previous two Halloween nights in a row, and this year you didn't even want to buy a costume without him. You were exactly twenty weeks along, approximately halfway through your pregnancy, but it was hard to be excited even as groups of kids ran up and down the sidewalk.
You sat on your porch and dropped goodie bags into pillowcases and plastic pumpkins while Tramp barked inside the house. You commented on all of the cute costumes. You cried a little bit. Your emotions were all over the place as you tried to imagine what it might be like going out to collect candy a year from now with your baby in a tiny costume.
When the trick-or-treating ended, you went inside and opened a miniature sized Hershey bar for yourself, and then you almost screamed. The chocolate fell to the floor as you reached for your belly. Tramp looked between you and the fallen treat as you sank down onto your knees.
"Oh my God," you gasped, eyes squeezed shut tight. You could feel the baby moving. It was kind of a wild fluttering sensation. You rubbed your palm against your shirt a little more, and the slight movement felt like a response. Your baby was right there. "Hi, little Nugget." Then you felt something like a soft thump.
You wished more than anything that Bradley was here to witness it. He was going to absolutely freak out when he got home. Then the intrusive thoughts arrived. If he got home. It had been another week and a half since that FaceTime call where he got cut off by a commanding officer. If his mission was completed, he should have called you back by now. But at least you didn't have a fleet admiral dialing your number.
You didn't move for a long time, not until the baby seemed to get into a cozy position where the movement slowed down and then stopped. When Tramp started sniffing around the candy bar, you crawled over to it and picked it up before he could get any ideas.
Time was simultaneously at a standstill and also moving too fast. In four weeks, it would be Thanksgiving and your first wedding anniversary. You'd been holding off making plans with your parents, because you didn't know what to do. You were already overdue for your anatomy scan, dodging phone calls from Dr. Morris's office when they told you that you absolutely needed to come in for your checkup. They were starting to leave you lengthy messages about how they needed to complete the full scan to be sure there were no underlying issues.
As you walked to your bedroom, you promised yourself you'd call tomorrow and schedule an appointment. Bradley would miss finding out if the Nugget was a boy or girl, but at least you'd get to see all ten fingers and all ten toes for the first time. You could reveal the news to Bradley when you got to talk to him. You would go to your appointment, because he trusted you to take care of yourself and the baby the best that you could.
------------------------------
The cafeteria was packed when you walked in with your uniform shirt untucked and your pants unbuttoned. You finally caved and ordered a maternity uniform last week, and Bickel let you cry in his office about how ugly it was before he sent you back to the lab. It should be arriving any day, but for now, you were making do.
When Nat saw you, she was on her feet heading your way immediately. "Your belly looks bigger!" she gasped, pulling you toward the table where she was sitting with Bob and Maria. "When's Rooster coming home?"
You shrugged miserably. "You think I know? I just work here."
Her laughter made you smile for the first time all day. Your nausea was back a little bit, and you were too afraid to even try to eat anything until you got home later tonight. When Nat scooted her tray closer to the edge of the table to make room for you, she asked, "Where's your lunch?"
You didn't want to lie, but you really didn't want them to pressure you to eat right now. "I think I'll just take something back upstairs with me." As you slid onto the empty spot on the bench, you asked, "Do you know if anyone has heard from Payback?"
You were met with shaking heads which didn't help your mood at all. What the hell was going on with this mission? Your tongue felt too thick, and your saliva practically made you gag as Bob said, "I thought they would have been home by now. Five weeks is a long time for a special mission."
Maria elbowed him in the side, but it's not like he was saying anything you weren't already thinking. This sickening feeling had been inside you for days where you were convinced something went wrong. You just couldn't fathom why you hadn't received a call yet.
"I know," you muttered. "It's okay." But you weren't actually sure if it was or not. It has been months since you had a panic attack where you had to spend a few hours with Dr. Genevieve, but you could feel it building up now. Worrying about Bradley and yourself and the baby all at the same time was mentally and emotionally exhausting.
You pretended to pick up a sandwich before heading toward the elevators in the lobby, and you stopped to throw up in the bathroom before you made it back to your office. Your anatomy scan was scheduled for Friday, almost three weeks after they originally wanted you to come in. If you were still feeling this anxious, you'd block off part of your schedule next week to visit Dr. Genevieve again.
Somehow, even though the only thing on your mind was talking to Bradley, you were shocked when your phone woke you up just before midnight on Wednesday evening. This time you rocketed to your feet as you yanked your phone free from the charger. It wasn't a FaceTime call. It said RESTRICTED CALLER. You braced your hand on your nightstand in the dark, and when you answered, you knew immediately that it wasn't your husband on the other end of the call.
"Hello? I'm calling on behalf of Lieutenant Commander Bradley Bradshaw," came a male voice in response, and then he was asking you to confirm your personal information.
"What happened?" you gasped once he established that you really were the one and only person on Bradley's contact list. "What happened to him?"
There was a soft hum from the man, and you wanted to jump through the phone and strangle him for his lack of response. Then, as you finally managed to turn on your lamp, he said, "It looks like his flight just took off out of Hong Kong."
"Flight?" you gasped. "He's in the air?"
"Yes. A commercial flight into San Diego. He should arrive Friday morning, and I can give you the details now so someone can arrange for a ride for him."
You were baffled as to why Bradley didn't call you himself, but if he was on his way home, you didn't care. And you weren't going to arrange for a ride for him. You were going to pick him up yourself. When you grabbed a pen from your nightstand, the only paper you could find was the love note he left for you, so you started writing the flight number on your arm instead. Then you gasped and almost dropped the phone when you ended the call. There was the slightest chance he would be back in time!
---------------------------
Bradley was exhausted. He knew he could sleep for two days, no problem. He would land in San Diego and hope you were there to get him, then he'd ask you if the baby was a boy or a girl, then he'd take you home and make love to you before falling the fuck asleep. He really wanted to start building the jungle gym playset, but that was just going to have to wait for another day.
It was Friday, or at least that's what he thought, and he wasn't sure how busy you had been at work, because he hadn't spoken to you in weeks. Maybe Bickel let you take the morning off. If Bradley didn't get to see you in baggage claim like he always had before, he was going to be so annoyed that he was delayed weeks longer than he should have been. This mission turned into a three part nightmare on the high seas, and all he wanted was his wife and his Nugget.
When his flight landed, he was up and out of his seat, ready to go. Of course he ended up lifting down carryon bags for a few older passengers and one woman who had two kids with her. Of course he knelt down to help someone find their reading glasses. But all he wanted was for this line of people to move it off the aircraft so he could get into the terminal and call you.
When you answered on the second ring, shouting his name into the phone, he couldn't help but smile. "I just landed, Sweetheart. Does that mean you're here to get me?"
"Yes! I'm in baggage claim! Hurry up!"
His whole body thrummed with need as he picked up his pace at the confirmation that you were here for him. "I'm coming as fast as I can," he promised, squeezing between two groups of people walking way too slowly. He wanted to know if you took the day off. There were a hundred questions circling his brain, but the first one that he needed an answer to was, "How's my Nugget?"
He could hear the smile in your voice as you said, "Your little Nugget is thriving, Roo. But get over here and see for yourself!"
"Baby Girl," he laughed, jogging a little faster. "I'm coming."
"Hurry," you whined, and he needed to give you what you wanted.
He bypassed the crowded escalator and took the stairs as quickly as he could, skidding around a corner as he turned toward baggage claim. "Almost there," he panted into the phone. And then he saw you and groaned, "Fuck," loud enough that a few people shot him nasty looks. "Holy shit, Sweetheart."
Bradley ended the call as you glanced around, and he stumbled when you finally spotted him. You were wearing a new dress. It was a pretty shade of green, and it was snug, hugging all of your curves. Hugging your bump. You had a bump. You looked so obviously pregnant to him, he was ready to crawl on his hands and knees and beg at your feet.... for what, he wasn't sure. But that's what his brain was barking at him to do right now.
"Roo!" you called out, prancing toward him in that tight dress and your boat shoes, and literally nothing felt better than being with you. As soon as you were in his arms, he was home. "Bradley," you moaned against his lips as his hands found your sides. You felt different in the best possible way. The swell of your belly wasn't huge yet, but it was definitely there. He could feel it. His growing baby.
God, you were kissing him just right, fingers threading through his hair as you rubbed yourself against him. "Jesus," he groaned into your mouth, but you kissed it away as he ran his hands along as much of your middle as he could reach. He couldn't help it; when you eventually broke the kiss to take a breath, he dropped to his knees in front of you.
Your fingers were still in his hair as you looked down at him in surprise. "Roo?"
He was kissing along that green fabric and rubbing his nose against that perfect, little bump. He knew you were twenty-two weeks along, and he knew what that meant. "Please, tell me," he rasped, stroking you gently with his thumb. "Please, Sweetheart. Is it a girl or a boy?"
Your softly parted lips and smile had all of his focus as he waited to hear you tell him what he'd been dying to know. "Oh," you whispered, pushing your fingers through his hair, leaving him in anticipation as your fingertips glided down his cheek. "I don't know yet."
"You don't?" he asked, brow creased in concern. But you just kept smiling as his heart pounded. "You don't know?"
"Nope," you replied easily. "My appointment is in an hour."
Bradley rocketed to his feet. "Are you serious?" he whispered, his voice a little harsh. "I didn't miss it?"
You kissed him softly as he collected you back in his arms. "You didn't miss it, Roo. I postponed it as long as I could. You're just in time."
"Hell yes!" he whooped, pumping one fist in the air as you giggled. "You waited for Daddy," he said, smiling down at your belly as he slowly walked you backwards. "That's my Nugget." You were looking up at him with trusting eyes as he pushed you back against a pillar next to the baggage carousel. "You said we have an hour?"
"Yes."
"Good," he murmured before his lips found yours, and his hands continued their excited exploration of your new curves.
--------------------------
Next up is the big reveal!!! I am so excited!!!! Get your final guesses in now! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who has been reading and interacting. Welcome to the new series!
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Bedside Manner
Summary: You were expecting the perfect summer afternoon with the Daggers, but when a game of dogfight football takes a turn for the worse, you’re left with a bleeding head and an aching heart. And it’s up to Bradley to show you his bedside manner.
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
Length: 8K
Warnings: A little angst, a little pining, and two idiots in love.
It’s a perfect summer afternoon. Well, almost.
The sun is high in the sky and the steady salt kissed ocean breeze keeps it from being too uncomfortably hot. The coolers are filled with beers and sodas and a few pink cans of rosé that Coyote had brought. And the beach blankets were littered with open half-eaten family sized bags of chips and cubes of bright pink watermelon and containers of various dips and ziplocs with sun warmed and mostly melted chocolate chip cookies.
“You guys, really, I’m fine,” you state as adamantly as you can given the circumstances.
Sure, you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your throbbing, bleeding head. Sure, you are a little afraid to put your full weight on your left ankle and already dreading the long walk back to your car.
But it’s fine, you’re fine. Everything is…peachy. Or it will be as soon as they all stop looking at you like you’re about to crumple to the ground like some 1920’s silent film starlet from on the silver screen.
Nat has that deep pinch between her sharp brown eyes. Jake’s lips are pressed together in a firm white line. The rest of the team stands hovering around you in a misshapen semicircle, all sandy and sweaty, and wearing the concern painted across their faces.
All except for Rooster, who can’t seem to look at you at all.
“Clearly, you’re not,” Phoenix says flatly, clearly unamused by your attempts to minimize the situation. And you wish that just this once she could have let this go and follow your lead. But then she wouldn’t be Natasha Trace.
Your best friend since middle school had always been the most capable and sharpest person in the room and you loved that about her.
Normally.
But not so much when her keen assessment of you keeps you from being able to slink away quietly without fuss.
“No, seriously. It’s just a little scratch. It’s not a big deal.” It sounds feeble even to your own ears. Trying to hold back a wince when the way you shake your head makes starbursts bloom behind your eyes.
You could have dealt with the pounding in your head if it weren’t for the relentless burning of your ankle that was only making things worse. One or the other would have been easier to manage, but both vying for your attention as the pain pulses with every heartbeat was miserable.
The sun was too hot, the kids frolicking the ocean were too loud, the sunscreen on your skin felt too greasy. All you wanted was a shower and your bed and to forget this whole day even happened.
You look around the group trying to gauge how successful your efforts are, but it’s clear that no one seems to be buying your brand of poorly performed bullshit. You wanted to crawl into yourself like a hermit crab, protected by your own shell, as six pairs of eyes all looked on at you sympathetically, while the pretty brown ones you wanted to see the most were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses and trained down at the ground.
It was supposed to be a fun day.
You’d woken up that morning absolutely giddy about trading spreadsheets for sand and sunburns and sea salt tangled hair. Your cheery, new swimsuit already laid out and waiting for you from the night before.
There was something thrilling about hooky on a Friday with all of your favorite people that made you feel all kinds of young and free. Well, hooky for you. They’d been given the day off after a month of intensive training and testing of some new defensive software. They all deserved the break and you were more than happy to tag along.
You were always the good kid in school, never skipping, never missing a class. You’d felt like a rebellious teen as you crafted your ‘out of office’ email, a smug grin on your face like you were getting away with something. Even though you’d earned the right to use that PTO whichever way you wanted.
The anticipation of a snow day from your childhood school days had nothing on the intoxicating promise of a beach day on a golden summer Friday.
The team must have felt the same way too because the group chat the night before had been chaotically amusing. The excitement was palpable enough that you’d almost think you all lived in some landlocked state rather than San Diego, where it felt like all roads led to the beach whether you wanted them to or not.
Somewhere between the string of all capitalized sentences and exclamation points with a few well-chosen emojis scattered throughout, Natasha had managed to wrangle everyone in enough into sorting out who was responsible for bringing what. There wouldn’t be another veggie platter incident, not on her watch.
You’d felt bright and effervescent as you’d pulled into the parking lot, your eyes reflexively seeking out a blue Bronco that hadn’t arrived yet. With a beach chair over one shoulder and a beach bag over the other and a packed cooler bag in your hand, you’d made towards the multicolored sprawl of blankets and the striped peaks of the umbrellas, where you were met with the smiling faces of shiny happy people.
Some of the boys had rushed over to help you carry your things and added your offerings to the communal pile of snacks and sunscreen and bottles of water. It had been easy to fall into conversation with everyone as you set up your own little patch of paradise and shimmied out of your frayed cut-offs. Natasha had given you a wolf whistle and you’d laughed as you give her the finger.
And hour and a half later with an easy grin on his face, carrying a case of beer and two big Ziploc bags stuffed with what you learned later were homemade cookies balanced on top, was Rooster.
You’ve had plenty of beach days with them but every time you saw him in those damn denim shorts he always seemed determined to wear, regardless of how impractical they were, your mind still went a little fizzy as you took in just how well they clung to his thighs.
He’d taken the ribbing from his squad in stride as he unboxed the beers and added them to the collection already chilling in Bob’s bright yellow cooler. You were trying- and failing- to read your worn paperback book when he’d surprised you by plopping his things next to yours on your oversized towel and stole a chunk of juicy watermelon off of the plate balanced on your lap.
“Hey, book worm,” he grinned as he popped it into his mouth, “How’s my favorite girl doing?” That smile of his getting bigger when you rolled your eyes at him.
“Hi, Rooster,” you’d said looking at him from over the top of your sunglasses with an amused smirk.
And if your cheeks felt warm, it was from the sun and not the teasing tone of his raspy voice.
When he’d shrugged off his shirt to apply the sunscreen you’d brought with him in mind, the wink he’d shot you went straight to your head like champagne. The sun highlighting his impressive abs and sculpted shoulders didn’t help either as he took great efforts to cover his chest and stomach with the lotion. He had to be doing it on purpose, because he’d kept rubbing it in well past when the white hue faded. But who were you to complain? Melanoma was no joke.
“You wanna help me out?” he’d asked turning his back to you, looking over his shoulder. You’re pretty sure that he’d been flexing because he’d looked impossibly broad, every defined muscle standing out for eyes to map out and explore.
You’d been at war with yourself, because while your eager hands were desperate to touch him, you also knew that once you ran your hands along his solid frame that you’d never want to stop. That you wouldn’t be content until your fingertips had traced every inch of him.
You had been blessedly and devastatingly spared the choice.
“I got you, Rooster. My hands are already all sunscreen-y,” chimed in Bob, who had just finished rubbing his own freshly applied layer. “Wouldn’t want it to get on her book.”
You were only half relieved to be off the hook, while Bradley on the other hand was still looking at you expectantly, almost hopefully, still with the white and yellow bottle of sunscreen partly extended towards you.
“That’s so sweet of you, Bob-” you’d started.
“Yeah, so sweet-” Bradley grumbled under his breath.
“I appreciate you sparing my pages the sunscreen grease,” you’d said shooting Bob a smile, choosing to ignore Bradley’s comment completely. “Plus, your hands are bigger than mine. You’ll have him covered in no time.”
Bradley looked between you and Bob before he passed the bottle to the other man, shaking his head a little in defeat. You’d giggled to yourself as you wiggled your book at an openly brooding Bradley, and then leaned back on your elbows to observe the way the attentive WSO made sure to carefully and thoroughly cover Bradley’s entire back.
Respectfully, of course.
Behind your sunglasses you’d admired all of Bradley’s bulk compared to Bob’s lithe grace. But in your defense, they were standing right in front of you and you’d already reread your book at least five times in the past, so it wasn’t nearly as interesting as the scene in front of you had been.
“You look awfully comfortable over there,” Rooster called out with a raised eyebrow.
“Just taking in the view,” you’d teased back.
“Yeah, I bet you are,” he huffed as Bob finished up, giving him a thanks, man before tossing you back the bottle of sunscreen. He’d nudged his sunglasses down his nose and pinned you with his gaze, “Let me know if you want me to get your back. My hands are just as capable as his.” Even in the high heat of summer, the way he’d looked at you sent chills running along your arms.
You felt the way his keen eyes traveled from your face, down the deep-v of your swimsuit and along the swells of your breasts, and down your legs to your freshly painted toes. His mouth had ticked up in the corner then left you reeling and your heart pounding away in your chest as he’d strut off to go join Fanboy and Coyote by the mountain of snacks.
And that was the thing about Bradley Bradshaw. You never knew if he was just flirt-y or flirt-ing.
You hadn’t had a crush in ages, but when Nat had introduced you to her team five months ago, the man with the sunkissed curls and surprisingly attractive mustache had immediately caught your eye.
And as you’d gotten to know him, it had only gotten worse.
Not only was he very nice to look at and could make you laugh until your sides ached, but he also he had depth about him in a way that most men your age didn’t. You liked talking to him and listening to his stories. You liked learning his perspective on things. You liked being around him.
He made you feel interesting and special and funny and seen. You’ve never felt as comfortable in your own skin as you did when you were around him.
Rooster would send you flirty winks, give you less than subtle once overs, and could flash you such devastating slow grins that they’d have you trying to catch the butterflies they released in your stomach for hours after you went home.
But he’s never made a move.
If only he wouldn’t play hide and seek with his true intentions.
You felt like you were still waiting on some small clue whether he was serious or not. You didn’t know if he was just having fun with you or if he was into you and it was more than just friendly banter. It would be so much easier if he’d straight up tell you one way or another.
Needless to say, you’d let Nat be the one to help you with your sunscreen a little bit later. The idea of Bradley’s big hands on you, gliding along your sun-warmed skin and under the crisscross straps of your swimsuit, was too much for your hummingbird heart.
The sun climbed higher into the sky as the butter yellow midmorning transformed into a Midas-touched golden afternoon.
The squad had been able to reserve a fire pit and the plan had been to stay until the sunset. An endless summer day stretching out before them like a cat. They had nothing but time.
Clusters of people came together and split apart like a kaleidoscope as some went to take a dip in the ocean or raid the cooler and snack spread or go for a walk along the shore. Changing and shifting with the direction of the wind, going where the mood took them.
And for a peaceful moment, it had been you with your book and a napping Bradley sprawled out next to you on your towel with his arm flung over his eyes. Close enough that you could feel his warmth, almost but not quite touching. The sound of his soft breaths and the waves their own kind of lullaby as you contentedly read your book, turning your pages quietly to not disturb the man next to you, as the droplets of the Pacific dried on your skin.
You still don’t know how you got roped into playing a round of dogfight football with the Navy’s best and brightest. You were more of a corn hole or ladder toss kind of girl, but Coyote had all but thrown you over his shoulder and dragged you out before you’d agreed to participate, conceding your defeat.
You were on a team with Hangman, Coyote, Fanboy against Nat, Rooster, Payback, and Bob. A few plays in and you had been getting the hang of it. They’d all been making sure to take care to go easy on you even in the chaos of two teams playing offensively and defensively at the same time. You were more than a little out of breath, but you were having fun.
Before the next snap, Mickey gave the most impassioned pep talk you’d ever heard, “Fuck luck, we don’t need luck. We gotta fucking win.” You had been about to laugh, but then you’d seen the looks on Jake and Javy’s faces and decided against it. Curious about the other team, you’d glanced over only to see Rooster looking back at you.
The calls had been made, the blur of plays in motion as people whirled and dodged and sprinted.
You’d just lobbed the ball to Javy before darting around Nat when a big, solid body collided with you. Hard. You’d felt the twinge of your ankle twisting in the sand right before the force sent you flying in the opposite direction you’d been headed.
The impact had been jarring. The air knocked from your lungs.
Where you should have been met with a mouthful of gritty sand, instead your head had connected with the rough surface of a partially buried rock. The low, thick thud reverberating throughout your whole body.
You’d been so stunned that you didn’t even register you were even on the ground until you heard the chorus of oh fucks and holy shits and goddamns and jesus christs over the ringing in your ears.
The game coming to an immediate and conclusive end.
For how many empty bottles and cans were sitting collected in a trash bag off to the side of your beach set up, they had been surprisingly quick to act as you blinked blankly, trying to clear the spots from your vision.
It was a silent ballet of efficiency as they instinctively fell into their roles, much like you imagined they did the sky. Everyone stepping up and then stepping back as they did their part, like the ebb and flow of waves.
Nat had carefully poured some fresh water from a bottle on your face to remove the sand that clung to the sweat and sunscreen on your skin. Then Jake had wordlessly passed her his clean spare shirt he’d jogged of to get to help stop the bleeding after Javy checked on your pupils to make sure they were the same size. While Bob stood off to the side holding your warped sunglasses in his hands, as if he was hopeful they could still be salvaged. Mickey and Reuben had been waiting in the wings giving you space, ready to help if they were needed, but not wanting to not crowd in.
And from the corner of your eye, you’d caught Rooster standing a couple feet away with his hands in his hair looking absolutely wrecked.
“Bradley?” you’d tried, even though his name stuck to your teeth. But he’d just shook his head at you before turning away slightly, like he couldn’t look at you, which made your heart sting as well.
They only allowed you to move to sit up after they were content with the answer to their questions- What day is it? Friday. Where are you? San Diego. What else hurts? My ankle and my pride.
It wasn’t until someone hauled you up from underneath your armpits that the throbbing and stinging and aching settled over you. The pain seeping and spreading through muscle and bone like an inky oil spill.
It’s still an almost perfect summer afternoon except for the fact you hate everything about this.
You hate the way they’re gathered around you with too many pairs of assessing eyes pinned on you. You hate that you’re the reason the game of dogfight football came to a definitive and abrupt end. You hate that you’re the reason their carefree and fun afternoon off has turned into this.
There’s a pressure building behind your eyes, the hot tears of hurt and frustration and embarrassment are clamoring to be released. You have to bite your lower lip to keep it from trembling.
And it doesn’t help that you’re the type who’d rather lick your wounds in peace.
You just need to get back to your car and you can figure things out on your own from there. You just need a moment to yourself.
As you open your mouth to argue your case again, Jake puts his hand up and stops you before you’ve even had a chance to start, “I hate to break it to you, sugar, but you’re not fooling any of us.” He says it gently, but gives you a pointed look at the way you’re leaning heavily on your right leg to keep the pressure off of your left ankle.
“That head wound is not a little scratch. Just like your ankle isn’t just a little puffy, when it’s twice the size it should be. You need to go to the Emergency Room,” Nat says, final and resolute. A lifetime of friendship has taught you not to argue when she has that look in her eyes, the one that says try me, I dare you.
They all talk over you as they figure out who is the most sober of the group after your suggestion to call yourself an Uber is immediately shot down. Drinks are being counted on fingers, and memories are searched to make sure every sip and bottle and can is accounted for.
Your eyes drift over to the man who is still actively avoiding looking at you, even as he talks to everyone else on the team. You aren’t paying too close attention to what he is saying, but you can hear the short, clipped staccato of his words.
Bradley’s shoulders are tinged a little pink even though you know for a fact that you had purposely passed him the 65 SPF. His eyes are hidden behind his dark green tinted sunglasses, but you don’t need to see them when you can read his body language better than any book.
His arms are crossed firmly over his chest, the tendons in his forearms flexing and shifting, like he is squeezing and releasing his fists from where they’re tucked under his biceps. Everything in his body looks coiled tight and strained, so at odds with the easy going and loose-limbed man you know him to be.
You don’t realize just how much you’ve zoned out until Natasha has to say your name a couple time before you pull your gaze away from Bradley and back to her.
“Ok, it’s settled,” Nat informs you, “Rooster’s going to take you.” You barely nod your head in acknowledgement when she tells you, because it feels like you’ve been punched in the stomach now too.
“It’s the least he can do,” Jake drawls.
“That’s not fair-” you start, defensively.
“Fuck off, Bagman-” Rooster snaps.
The rage in his voice shocks you, you’ve never heard that much heat from him before. There’s none of the teasing tone that usually underscores their banter. Jake puts both of his hands up placatingly like my bad, folks and Javy just shakes his head and sighs.
And this time when you look at Bradley, he is finally looking back at you with a deep furrow in his brow. His jaw is clenched tight, that muscle ticking and jumping, as he takes in the way you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your forehead.
Not exactly the way you’d hoped he’d be looking at you when you put on your new blue and white striped swimsuit this morning.
The one you’d bought because you wanted to make him look.
Just not like this.
With everything sorted the rest of the team trickles away a smattering of take cares and get better soons and let us know if you need anythings. But not before Mickey hands Rooster his stuff and passes Nat your bag and sandals. He gives you the gentlest of squeezes on your shoulder before he leaves to join everyone else back on little part of the beach you all had claimed before things went to shit.
Your group of eight now downsized to a trio.
Bradley is quick to roughly pull on his tank and shirt, and Nat fishes out your car keys from your bag as she waits for him to slip his shoes on. When he’s ready she passes it to him and he silently slides it over his arm.
Nat bends down to help gingerly glide your feet into your sandals, “I’ll grab the rest your things and drop them off at your place and then one of the boys will drop off your car later. We’ve got it all covered, ok?”
“Thanks, Nat,” you say quietly, trying to hold back a wince as she slips the left one on, your ankle pulsing in tempo with your heartbeat.
“Best friends don’t say thank you, they just do,” she says matter-of-factly as she stands. It’s the same thing you’d told her after you’d dumped a carton of strawberry milk on Carly Radke for outing Natasha your freshman year in high school. It was only time you’d ever gotten detention, but it had been worth it.
“They just do,” you repeat with a small smile.
You’re so grateful that your friendship with her is one that has spanned years. That you’ve been able seen one another grow and change and come into their own, but that you haven’t outgrown each other. She’s the person you want by your side and having your back. There is no one quite like Natasha Trace.
She turns to Bradley and you watch him stand a little taller under her sharp eyes, your straw tote still dangling from his forearm.
“You good?” Nat asks him with a look in her eye that you can’t place. And you’re reminded that even though she’s your best friend, that he has also earned a spot as one of her closest friends. Their relationship built over years and experiences that you could never fully understand. Different, but just as deep.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got her. I’ll take care of her,” Rooster promises with a stiff nod, as he gives her his word. It might have made your heart beat a little faster if you didn’t feel like such a burden. That it’s simply a twist of fate and three less drinks than everyone else for the reason that he’s the one to look after you. That he’s the one stuck with you.
“I know you will,” she says softer now, patting his shoulder, “Keep me posted.” Nat presses a kiss to your cheek and gives you an encouraging smile then heads off to go rejoin everyone else.
You watch her go with longing. The cheerful beach set up with its colorful blankets and umbrellas looks more like a desert mirage now. The sweet coconut scented potential of what the day could have been now forever out of reach.
And then it’s just you and Bradley and the sound of the waves and cries of seagulls.
The two of you silent and motionless.
You feel one wrong move and the fragile attempt of the stiff upper lip you’ve cocooned yourself in will crack open and all the soft parts of you will seep out into the sand beneath your feet.
His expression is shuttered closed as he bends a bit like he is going to pick you up.
“Woah, buddy, what are you doing?” You’re squinting into the sun as you look at him. You’d step into his shadow to block it, since you’re now in need of a new pair of sunglasses, but that would mean moving to the left which isn’t an option with your ankle.
“Buddy,” he grunts under his breath, slipping off his sunglasses and carefully putting them on your face, being mindful of stinging scrapes and wad of soft cotton you’re holding to your head. “They’re definitely going to have to run concussion protocol on you,” he mutters more to himself than to you, “I’m taking you to the Bronco and then we’re going the ER, remember?”
“Yeah, I know, Rooster,” you grit out, even rolling your eyes hurts, “But I don’t need you to carry me.”
Everything about this was excruciating and embarrassing enough without him being the Clark Gable to your Vivian Leigh. Maybe you could lean on him and hop over to his car? Like a six-foot-one pair of crutches with good hair.
“Take a step without wincing and I’ll think about it,” he says firmly, pointedly calling your bluff. There’s an expectant look of go on then, whenever you’re ready on his face. Because he knows he’s right, and you do too.
You don’t even bother to make a move, but the way your lower lips wobbles speaks volumes.
“That’s what I thought,” he says quietly, almost like pains him to be right.
He bends a little to hook his arms around your knees and back to lift you up, and this time you let him. Your free arm automatically wrapping around the back of his neck. And he starts off towards the winking windshields of the parking lot.
You’ve thought about what it would be like to be wrapped up in Bradley’s arms, how good it would feel to be pressed closed against him. And now you are and it’s nothing like you’ve imagined, because there isn’t anything sweet or swoon-worthy about how you ended up in them. You’re his duty, you’re not his desire.
All your sandcastle hopes have been washed away by the tide.
You’re so frustrated. You’re frustrated by the day, by yourself, by him.
This time you can’t blink back the tears that well up in your eyes. They flood through your tear ducts carving hot trails down your sun-tinged cheeks.
You want the Bradley from earlier.
The one who stole your watermelon with warmth in his eyes.
The one who dozed next to you in the sun like a cat, his features soft free of the tension he now holds in his shoulders.
You want your Bradley.
The one who’d whispered cheeky comments in your ear whenever the team got into lighthearted tequila fueled arguments about things like whether a hot dog was a sandwich.
The one who’d always go up to the bar with you on busy nights at the Hard Deck and make sure you didn’t get bumped into on the way back to your friends with your freshly refilled drinks.
You’re aching, aching. Everywhere.
For a brief moment, as you swipe at your tears, you’re happy for the throbbing in your head and ankle, so that way you don’t have to think about the stinging in your heart.
“I know, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know you’re hurting,” Rooster says gentle and low as you sniffle, but you can hear the thickness of the words in his throat. The term of endearment is the sweetest of nothings, making your tears come faster. Where it should ease the heartache, all it does is make you angry at yourself for giving your emotions away. “We’re almost to the Bronco. It’s ok, we’re gonna get you taken care of, I promise.”
We.
You wanted that with him.
You want to press both of your hands to his cheeks to make him look you in the eyes to ask him is it going to be you and me together? You’ve been a fool for love before, but you didn’t know if could take another hit-and-run with your heart.
The salt of your tears makes your cheeks feel tight and itchy as the summer breeze dries them on your skin.
Bradley carries you like you weigh nothing, but cradles you like you’re the most precious things he’s ever held. He’s mindful of any dips in the sand and gives wide berth around the college kids playing volleyball close to the entry back to the parking lot.
When he reaches the Bronco, he sets you down gently, making sure both of your feet are planted on the asphalt before letting go of you to unlock his car. He tells you to wait a moment when you move to open the passenger side door.
“I never know when I might get called up for an emergency deployment, so I like to have some extra clothes just in case,” he explains as he digs around in the backseat, pulling out a pair of gray athletic shorts.
“Oh.” And you realize you’re still just clad in your striped swimsuit. “Thank you for sparing me from the hospital germs,” you say lightly, an attempt at a joke to break the ice. One that doesn’t land, since instead of cracking a grin he just presses his lips together in a firm line and nods.
Bradley crouches low in front of you and you put a hand on his shoulder for balance as you lean against the Bronco, still trying to keep as much pressure off your left ankle as possible as you step into them. He’s looking up at you and even through his sunglasses perched on your nose, you swear his brown eyes get a shade darker as he eases the shorts up your legs. You’re touched by the effort as he ties the strings in a lopsided bow, even if things are feeling tense between the two of you.
“Think this’ll be easier,” he mumbles shrugging off his light blue button up. You’ve always liked this one, with its soft pastel pink and minty green watercolor prints of net fishermen and hula girls and palm trees.
He holds it open for you, helping you thread your arm through it, and then takes over holding Jake’s now ruined shirt to your head so that you can get your other arm past the sleeve. It smells like him, citrus and amber. Your fingers brush against each other when you reclaim the makeshift bandage, and he adjusts his shirt so that it hangs over your shoulders just right.
It’s an awkward kind silent as Rooster helps lift you into the Bronco with his strong hands around your hips. He is all smooth efficiency as he buckles you in with a click. You pass him back his sunglasses the same moment he hands you your tote bag, and it almost feels like a hostage exchange.
He says nothing as he hauls himself into the driver’s side. The car rumbles to life when he turns the key in the ignition and a cheery song from the 80’s station on the radio comes on. Bradley quick to turn the volume down low. His thumb brushing your shoulder as he sets his hand on the back of your seat to look behind him as he carefully backs out of the spot.
It’s never felt this strained with him before.
It’s so painfully obvious that the two of you are walking on eggshells around each other. You can almost feel the wall that’s gone up around him. The white noise of the radio drowned out by the hum of the road as he drives in near silence.
Your day has been most effectively ruined by a chunk of sedimentary rock, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still recoup what’s left of it.
He could still have the perfect summer afternoon.
He could still go back to your friends and their perfect beach set up and laugh with them as Coyote keeps accidentally setting marshmallows on fire. He could still catch the bold oranges and soft pinks of the sunset with all the satisfied contentment he deserved to experience.
“You can leave me and go back, you know. I’ll be ok if you just want drop me off and then head back to the beach,” you say looking down at your fingers as you trace the stitching of his leather seats.
When he doesn’t answer right away, you glance over at him. The vein in his neck is standing out boldly against the column of his throat.
“Do I seem like the kind of guy who would leave someone at the ER alone?” he asks, his voice rougher than sandpaper.
“No. No, of course not,” you say emphatically, “That’s why I’m giving you permission.”
“Permission?” he scoffs with a shake of his head.
“Yes, permission,” you say, clipped.
You’re giving him an out, why doesn’t he get that?
He heaves a big sigh and grunts. “Is it… Would you rather have Bob- with his big hands- here instead?” Bradley asks, frustration leaking out around the edges of his words.
“Bob with his big hands?” you repeat baffled, “What does Bob have to do with anything about this?”
“That’s what you said earlier, sweetheart. I’m just citing the source. Or I can call Phoenix? Or…” he pauses glancing at the t-shirt pressed to your head, “Or even Seresin. Once we get you checked in I can call any of them an Uber or something, and they can be there with you, if you don’t want me.”
“No, Rooster, I don’t want anyone else.” You wince at the implication and hope it doesn’t read into it further than the current situation to two of you are wading through like quick sand.
“Ok, good,” he grumbles.
“Great,” you lob back.
His hand tightens on the steering wheel, the knuckles turning white, “Then where is this even coming from?” The action makes his thick forearm flex in this most delicious of ways that you’d appreciate more if you didn’t feel the anger simmering low in your stomach.
“It’s pretty damn clear that you’d rather be back there, Rooster. Or literally anywhere else right now.” You flip down the sun visor with more force than it deserves, regretting that you gave him his sunglasses back when the bright California sun in your eyes turns your headache into a full-blown migraine.
“Of course, I’d rather be anywhere else!” he says hotly, tossing his sunglasses back in your lap, “Do you think I like that you’re hurt and that we’re on our way to the hospital?” You shove them on your face with an angry huff.
A car speeds by blaring their horn as they pass by.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Fuck off,” he grunts but speed of the Bronco doesn’t change, “Asshole.”
Bradley’s driving five miles under the posted limit, and you know for a fact he religiously drives at least ten miles over. And his turns have been smoother than butter, as if he is trying not to jostle you anymore than you’d already been today.
You are so tired of this hot and cold thing that he’s doing. His words and his deeds weren’t going hand in hand. He keeps giving you the cold shoulder, but is also so in tune with your every movement and need.
Gingerly, you angle yourself in your seat to look at him better, resting your tired left arm on the back of your seat and taking in his strong profile.
“Why are you being like this?” you demand, waving your free hand in a vaguely in his general direction.
“Like what? I’m not being like anything,” he retorts, making the same vague hand gesture as you did a moment earlier.
And oh, if that doesn’t fill your chest with hot indignation. That low simmering anger has turned into a full roiling boil as you shift in your seat trying to get your ankle in a position where it doesn’t hurt.
“Seriously, Rooster? I can feel tension rolling off of you in waves. You’ve been like this since everything turned to complete shit on the beach. I didn’t mean to ruin your day, I’m just trying to figure out how to make things better,” you bite out unable to keep things bottled up anymore.
He sucks in a sharp breath, “Are you kidding me right now? You think you ruined my day?” He glances from the road to you and back again, his brown eyes wide and searching.
“Yes?” Or so you’d thought until you’d seen the shock written all over his face, but now you weren’t so sure. It’s like you’ve dumped ice water on him instead of simply calling him out. “I feel like you’re taking it out on me and I don’t know why.”
“Jesus Christ,” Rooster swears under his breath, shaking his head. “I’m so damn sorry, sweetheart. I’m mad at myself, because I ruined your day. I should have been more careful, I should have been looking out for you. It’s not like you’re hard to miss in that swimsuit.” Your cheeks heat up at the comment, but you choose to ignore it.
Misery drips from his words like spilled ink off a page. You knew he was upset, but you didn’t realize he was upset about that. That he’s shouldering this fluke of fate as if it is his burden to bear. Some of the anger you’ve been feeling leaves your body like the tide washing out back out to sea. You’re still upset at him for how he has been acting up until this point, but you’re not mad at him about that.
“Bradley, no. It was an accident.”
“Yeah, an accident I’m responsible for,” he says hoarsely, rubbing roughly at his forehead. “God, I can still hear the sound it made when you hit that rock and it makes me feel sick. I would give anything to undo that moment. I need you to know that.”
He is being so hard on himself and your heart squeezes, this time in sympathy rather than hurt. He didn’t place that rock in the sand, the both of you were victims of circumstance.
“It could have happened to anyone. It could have been anyone,” you press delicately, trying to get him to hear you, shifting in your seat again still uncomfortable.
The sunshine bounces off of his slumped shoulders as he sighs raggedly.
“But it happened to you and it’s my fault. You’re bleeding, you’re in pain, and you’ve been crying. And it’s because of me.” He reaches down with his right hand and lifts up your leg so that you can rest it on his thigh, some of the ache alleviating immediately. He asks quietly, “That better?”
“Yes, thank you,” you murmur. He looks so upset, and all you want to do is curl into his lap. You want to hold him and you want to be held by him. “You know I don’t blame you, right?”
You expect him to move his hand back to the steering wheel, but he keeps it on your leg. His thumb stroking your still slightly sandy shin. Your cheery toenail polish at odds with the color blooming around your ankle.
Bradley’s throat bobs as he swallows hard, “Yeah, I do. I know that. But I still blame myself.”
The Bronco rolls to a soft stop at the light. There’s enough traffic that you know you’ll be here for a bit, and so does he since he turns in his seat to look fully at you. You take his sunglasses off, tucking them into the pocket of his shirt that rests above your heart, so nothing stands between his brown eyes and yours.
“So, you’re going to keep beating yourself up over it and icing me out? Making me feel worse? For what, Bradley? Because you’re a glutton for punishment? That’s not fair to me or to you.”
“Shit,” he mutters, his left hand running through his curls. “You’re right and I’m so sorry. I’ve been in my head feeling so damn guilty that I’ve been such an asshole. Can you forgive me?”
You’re about to answer him that when a horn startles you, making you jump in the leather seat. You see the light is green, the car that had been in front of you is gliding through the intersection passing under a blue sign pointing the way to the hospital.
“Bradley, the light.”
The car behind the two of you honks their horn again.
“They can wait. This is important, you are important. Do you forgive me?” There’s an underscore of need that punctuates his question.
“Yes, of course,” you say easily and sincerely. There’s so much remorse in his eyes, you would have forgiven him with that look alone.
“Thank you,” he breathes out in relief. And then he smiles at you for the first time since the beach and that ache in your heart is completely soothed, bandaged by that soft way he is looking at you.
Atlas no longer, he can simply be Bradley.
He takes his foot off the brake and by some miracle he’s able to make it through the light before it turns red again. You can see the tall structure of the parking lot near the hospital poking out above the line of the treetops.
The destination is closer than ever, but there are still things on your mind.
“And you aren’t an asshole, Bradley. But your bedside manner could definitely use some work,” you tease with a smile of your own.
“Baby, I’ve been trying to show you my bedside manner, but you keep holding me at arm’s length,” he groans dramatically.
The idea of experiencing Bradley Bradshaw’s bedside manner makes you feel all kinds of weak in the knees, even as you’re seated in his Bronco with your leg propped up in his lap, his big hand skating up and down along your shin comfortingly.
“How can you even say that with a straight face? You’ve never made a move!” you exclaim incredulously, “I was even the one to ask for your phone number, if you remember.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I hit on you all the time,” he argues with your favorite brand of Bradshaw banter, “I’ve been waiting for you to give me the green light, sweetheart.”
“I thought you were supposed to be pretty and smart,” you smirk.
He barks a laugh and the last tendrils of all the tension and all the pressure that had been swirling around you like a marine layer evaporates.
“You saying I’ve had the green light this whole time?” He looks over at you with a boyish smile, you like the way you feel when he looks at you like this.
“What I’m saying, Bradley, is if you’d have actually asked me out I would have said yes.” You press your toes into the muscle of his thick thigh and immediately regret it, wincing as pain ripples around your ankle.
He makes a sympathetic sound deep in his chest, “Sounds like I’ve been an idiot.”
“A very pretty one,” you allow, leaning your aching head back against the back seat.
“At least there’s that,” he concedes good-naturedly as he pulls into the parking lot, turning on his blinker for a spot opening up near the entrance to the Emergency Room by some twist of fate, one that’s in your favor this time.
Bradley pulls into the empty spot and kills the engine turning to you. He gently eases your foot back down onto the sandy floormat of the Bronco and leans into unbuckle your seatbelt.
He’s so close now looking up at you from under his eyelashes, and your breath catches in your throat. He moves closer, you can see the bits of hazel that surround his pupils. Your eyes flutter close and you tilt your head up, lips parting at the anticipation of his kiss.
There’s no holding back the noise of dissatisfaction you make when his lips press a tender kiss to your cheek. You lean into him wanting to feel, wanting him to give you more. His warm breath coasts over your skin as he chuckles. You can feel the way his lips are pulled up into a smile.
“I’m a gentleman, sweetheart,” he says as he pulls away, his eyes lingering on your lips. “My mom raised me not to go for the kiss on the first date. Or ones with head wounds and potential concussions.”
“Some first date,” you lament jokingly, looking in at the fluorescent lights awaiting you inside the hospital. You’d rather skip over this part entirely, but you’re ready to be done with holding Jake’s shirt to your head. “Nothing like insurance cards and scrubs to really set the mood.”
“Mmm. How about this, after we’re done here, I’ll take you through whatever drive-thru you want-”
“In-N-Out,” you cut in without a second thought. The novelty of it still hasn’t worn off on you, even if the fries are terrible.
“Ok,” he grins, “I’ll take you through in In-N-Out and get you your number two combo with mustard and grilled onions with a vanilla shake.” He pauses waiting for your nod of approval, looking more than pleased with himself when you acknowledge he got your order right.
“I like the sound of this so far,” you hum.
“Well that’s good. Since it’ll be our first date, I want to set that bar high,” he says giving you a wink. And there are those butterflies again, this time you don’t try to catch them with a net. They’re free to flutter around as they wish.
“If you really want to impress me, you’ll also take me through the McDonald’s drive-thru for their fries,” you muse.
“Done.”
“I was kidding,” you laugh, shaking your head at him disbelievingly and thoroughly charmed.
“Well, I wasn’t. So after we get you fed, give or take some fries, I will bring you home. I’ll get you whatever you need, I want to make sure you’re comfortable. Think you might be on crutches for a bit, sweetheart,” he says softly, playing with the ends of your hair. “And then in the morning, if you’re up for it, I’ll take you out for breakfast. Or bring you breakfast. Whatever you want. We can call that date number two.”
“And then you’ll kiss me?”
“And then I’ll kiss you,” he promises, offering you a crooked pinky finger. You beam and you wrap your own around his.
He slips out of the driver’s seat leaving you to contemplate the terms of his offer as he rounds the front of the Bronco. The nurses are going to get an eyeful of him in only those snug jean shorts and thin white tank. You make a mental note to avoid looking at him if they have to connect you to a heart rate monitor, he doesn’t need to know the effect he has on you. Not yet anyways.
“I have counteroffer,” you announce turning your body towards him as he opens your door for you.
“Let’s hear it, baby,” he says with a grin that almost makes you forget how bad your head and ankle hurt, “Shoot.”
“We still go to In-N-Out, but then in the morning you make me breakfast in bed with some of those famous Bradshaw pancakes I’ve heard about,” you say, as he steps in between your legs, “Seems like a good way to work on that bedside manner of yours.”
“I think you’re going to like my bedside manner, sweetheart,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb over your cheek.
You tilt your head at him, taking in the sunkissed strands in his hair and the affection in his eyes, “I guess we’ll have to find out.”
“Guess we will,” he rasps.
Rooster drops another sweet kiss to your cheek, whispering for you to stay put, and then he struts off towards the automatic doors of the Emergency Room. Leaving you alone with the butterflies in your stomach and the hope in your heart.
You dig your phone out of your straw tote and check the time, doing the math in your head.
There are a few messages from Nat and other people on the team already checking in, but you know you’ll have time to reply to them later as you wait with Bradley sitting by your side.
You look up and see he’s got a wheelchair now and is making his way back to you, wearing a soft smile on his face just for you.
Only seventeen more hours until you get to kiss Bradley Bradshaw and you can’t wait.
You’ve got that forever feeling about him.
Oh, oh, oh.
Thank you for reading! Rock on. Oh that joke was schist, I'll see myself out.
This was written as part of @roosterforme's Rocktober Playlist! You can check out all the other great submissions here!
The song that inspired this story was Paula Abdul's "Straight Up"
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If It Makes You Happy - Part 1
➪the one where you give bradley your heart and he breaks it.
Warnings: smut, angst, fluff, unprotected sex, age gap, 18+, swearing, alcohol consumption, hair pulling, small pain kink ig, jealousy
Word Count: 5.3k | Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡
“God, you feel so good,” Bradley’s deep voice sent chills down your spine. Your hands trailed up his back and gripped his shoulders as his hips hit yours over and over again. “Fuck, baby.”
His words, mixed with his raspy voice, went right to your core, where you greedily sucked him in deeper.
Bradley groaned loudly, dipping his head down to suck on your collar bone. He wasn’t usually one for hickeys at his age, but he found himself loving to both give them and receive them ever since you and he first started this whole situation.
“Just like that,” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut tightly when you felt his lips pepper kisses all over your neck.
“Like this?” He mutters as he fucked into you, making you see stars behind your closed eyes.
“Yes,”
One of his hands reaches down to wrap your leg around his waist, making him reach even deeper in you. “You like that, baby?”
“Yes,” you say again, sliding one hand up to tug on his hair. “Please.”
Bradley grunted at your relentless tugging, the feeling of your fingers threading through his hair adding to the overall pressure currently building within him. “Fuck, you’re so hot,”
If he thought you were hot, he must not be aware just how damn near edible he is.
He continued to suck mark after mark onto the skin of your neck, all while his hips rocked into yours with a friction that had you digging your nails into his bicep. One thing you both discovered was that Bradley had a bit of a thing for pain. He loved when you marked his skin with your nails or bit on his bottom lip whenever you kissed, but the thing he loved most was when you tugged on his hair in a death grip. The sore scalp and minor headaches he’d endure later on were so worth it.
So, as you raked your nails down his arm, Bradley just grunted against your neck, driving himself impossibly deeper into your inviting walls. “Yeah,” he breathed out, lifting his head so his lips brushed against yours. “I’m close, too, baby.”
After doing this with you for nearly half a year, Bradley knew your body like the back of his hand. He knew how to get you off in every way possible, and he knew when you were close to that sweet peak of relief.
Using the hand that wasn’t keeping him propped up above you, he presses the pad of his middle finger against your clit, which was still swollen from when he went down on you earlier.
The added stimulation had you crying out, your fingers tightening in his hair as you came for the second time since you arrived at his house. “There you go, give it to me,” he muttered and his words somehow managed to prolong your high. “So good, letting me fuck you when we’re supposed to be with our friends.”
As he continued to fuck into your warm and inviting core, you keep your hand tangled tightly in his hair and tug a bit harder, knowing that it would add to his pleasure.
You were right, as he groaned against your mouth, a mantra of “Fuck,” leaving his kiss swollen lips when he came.
He fucks his release deeper into you, your greedy walls taking everything he gave, before he comes to a stop and lays his body gently down on top of yours.
You release his hair and softly massage the top of his head, smoothing out the messy strands. As you bask in the afterglow, Bradley presses kisses to your bruised skin, a faint smirk on his lips at the sight of your hickey covered neck.
“I’m gonna miss this for the next six weeks,” he confessed and you had to calm your racing heart before it jumped to any conclusions.
“What? Fucking me?” You ask with a quiet laugh, moving your hand to trace your fingers along his sweaty shoulder.
“Fucking you,” he confirmed with a nod, making your smile fade a bit as he continued, “Kissing you, falling asleep with you in my arms. Just you in general.”
That made your smile reappear, and you moved his head so he was looking into your eyes. “You’re going to miss me? Or my body?”
Bradley pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “You,” he answered before he was standing up and holding his hand out to you. “Come on.”
You take his hand and let him pull you up and off of his comfy bed. “Where are we going?”
He steadies you in his arms, a proud smirk on his lips at your inability to stand up on your own because of the number he did on you. “Since we’re already half an hour late, why don’t we make our friends wait a bit longer?”
You smile up at him, letting him guide you towards his bathroom. “What did you have in mind?”
He kisses you deeply, his free hand tangling into your messy hair. “Come join me in the shower and find out,”
-
You and Bradley showed up a whole hour after your promised arrival time, but neither of you cared too much.
After your shower, you complained that you didn’t have anything you needed at his house, and his reply was one that you were still thinking about now, “You know, it’d be a lot easier if you just kept some of your stuff at my place. You’re here all the time, yet you’re still always unprepared for these kinds of things,” he was referring to your complaint that all of your makeup was at your house, and you had just scrubbed your face clean of the natural look you applied before you got there.
“What, you’re okay with me keeping my makeup all over your bathroom counter so I can reapply it once you’re done fucking it off me?” You had asked, half joking and half totally serious.
“I don’t care, I’m barely in there, anyway. The room could use some personality,” was his response, and it had your mind thinking about things you didn’t usually allow yourself to dwell on for too long.
Nearly six months you’ve been sleeping with him. Six months.
And it’s been five months since you broke rule number one and fell for him.
It was simple, easy, casual.
You started out as nothing. You were a friend of Jake’s, and that in itself was a surprise, so it wasn’t much of a shock when he invited you to go with him to the Hard Deck. When Bradley arrived at the bar a few minutes after you and Jake did, he didn’t pay much attention to the girl under the blond’s arm.
Jake was definitely a ladies man, so to see him with his hand wrapped around a girl’s waist wasn’t all that surprising. He played pool with Nat for a bit before making his way over to the bar, barely acknowledging Jake as he ordered a beer. “Hey, Rooster!” The man greeted, his own beer sloshing around in the glass as he moved towards him.
“Hangman,” Bradley muttered, hoping Penny would hurry up and hand him his drink.
“I want to introduce you to my friend, Y/n,”
That had Bradley turning his head in slight curiosity, a little shocked to hear that the girl currently stuck to his side was only a friend. When his eyes meet yours, his stoic expression drops.
You were beautiful, to put it simply.
He sweet talked his way into getting you to play pool with him, and later ended the night with you sprawled out on the back seat of his Bronco. He found himself under you, on top of you and in you several nights out of the week after that, and now the whole arrangement was about to be hitting the half a year mark.
It started out casual; he’d be there when you needed him, and you’d be there when he needed you.
The decision to not label it was a mutual one as you both believed it would be the best way to go about things.
Only a month in was when you offered to sleep together without protection. You confessed that he was currently the only person you were seeing, and he also admitted that he wasn’t sleeping with anyone else as well.
As the months went on, Bradley began getting more affectionate with you, especially in public and in front of the other guys. While you were sure you were falling for him, he had also been acting as if he was more than just a friend with benefits.
He offered you to sleep over every time you found yourself underneath him well into the night, and he woke you up each day with a good morning kiss and smile.
He lets you wear his clothes, use the appliances in his kitchen and even asks you to stay for dinner most nights.
All in all, he was the perfect boyfriend, but he wasn’t your boyfriend. He just acted like it.
There was a bit of an age difference, with you being twenty five and him pushing thirty five. While he had never explicitly said it bothered him, and he sure as hell never acted like he had a problem with it, you assumed that was why he had yet to make it official with you.
You weren’t reading too much into this, right? You couldn’t be.
He was all over you when you were around, and texted you constantly when you were away from him. He wanted you to feel comfortable wearing his clothes, didn’t care if you ate the leftovers he was saving, and had told you on more than one occasion to start keeping some of your things at his house.
And you had started to, kind of.
Your phone charger was plugged in next to his, a few of your shirts and jeans were currently in the washing machine along with his own, and your beloved hoodie you got from your uni days had a seemingly permanent place on the left side of his bed.
There was no way you had been given the wrong impression, right?
Right?
As soon as you entered the crowded bar, your face makeup free and one of his old vintage shirts tucked into your jean shorts, Bradley was pulling you with him to where Nat stood next to the pool table. “Hey, Rooster,” she greeted as she handed him a cue, nodding in your direction. “Rooster’s girlfriend.”
You expected him to correct her, but he surprised you by just shaking his head and laughing quietly, pulling you closer to his side. Your face heated up as you met Jake’s eyes from across the room, and he smiled as he waved you over to where he was sitting at the bar.
“Hey, I’ll be back in a sec,” you tell Bradley, and he leans down so he could hear you better in the loud bar. “I’m going to go get a drink, you want one?”
“Just one,” he answered before placing a kiss on your lips. “Hurry back so you can watch me kick Nat’s ass.”
Nat slapped his arm as you walked away, a dumb grin on your lips as you made your way to the bar. Jake welcomed you over with an arm around your shoulders and a kiss to your cheek.
“Hey, Jake,” you say as you rest your hand on his chest.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he answered, eyeing something behind you with a sly smirk. “Don’t look now, but your guy friend is glaring at me as if you’re his girlfriend or something.”
Despite his words, you turn and look at Bradley anyway. His brown eyes were on the two of you, furrowed and clouded over with what you think is jealousy. You held back a forming grin, your face heating up at the fact that he was getting jealous at the sight of you with another guy. Maybe it made you seem selfish, but you loved that he didn’t want you to be around other guys in the way you are currently with Jake.
“He does realize that I’m the one who introduced him to you, right?” The blond asks and you just shake your head, leaning over the bar and ordering two beers. “You’re not official, right?”
You clench your jaw at the reminder and shake your head, “No,”
Jake takes a swig of beer as he runs his hand up and down your back in a friendly kind of gesture. “Then I don’t understand why he’s coming over here right now,”
At that, you turn just in time to see Bradley step into your space, his hand on your arm as he tugged you away from Jake. “Hands to yourself, Hangman,” he says coldly, eyeing the other man with a suspicious glance. “We both know I’m the one who’s taking her home after this.”
His words dripped with a sense of possessiveness, and the whole thing had a surge of lust flow through your body. “My intentions are pure, Rooster,” Jake winked at the two of you as Bradley pulled you into his side. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Is that right?” Bradley questioned but didn’t really care for the answer.
“Relax, Bradley,” you murmur, handing him one of the beers. He didn’t take his eyes off Jake as he blindly took it from you, the cool bottle a nice contrast against his heated skin. “I came here with you, remember? That means I’m leaving with you, too.”
That had him meeting your eyes with a proud smirk on his lips, seemingly satisfied with your words. He gives Jake an over exaggerated shrug before pulling you along with him. “Later, Hangman,”
He tugged you over to the pool table once again, his hand sliding from your arm to your hip, where he squeezed slightly. You settle against his side, this position feeling more like where you were supposed to be than just an embrace.
Staying true to his word, Bradley took you back home a few hours later, and you spent the rest of the night wrapped around him in more ways than one, and giving in to his quiet plead of, “Stay with me tonight,”
It was the fifth night in a row he’s asked you to do that, and the fifth time you’ve said yes without hesitation.
-
The next morning, Bradley woke you up by going down on you until he had you coming twice. He didn’t ask you to return the favor, simply muttering something about “Needing his fix to start the day,”
You help him pack any last minute things, before driving him to the dock in your car. This would be his second deployment since this whole ordeal started, and this time you were completely in love with him. You weren’t sure how you would cope with not seeing him for six weeks, and you wanted him to know that you’d be thinking about him the whole time he was gone.
As you stood with him on the dock, you gazed up into his brown eyes with a sense of longing. “Thanks for coming with me this time,” he spoke quietly, making you grin up at him.
The first deployment was just two weeks into your situationship, and since you weren’t really all too familiar with everything that made up the marvel of a man named Bradley Bradshaw, you stayed home and sent him a simple text that wished him luck.
“Of course,” you reply, inching closer to him when his hands found home on your waist. Your eyes trailed over the scars on his cheek, and you refrained from reaching out to trace them with your finger. “I’m going to be thinking about you every single day, you know.”
This was it.
Bradley smiled down at you, leaning in and running his nose along the edge of your jaw. “You will?” He hummed, pressing various kisses to the marks he had left on your neck the night prior. When you nodded, he pulled back and took your chin between his thumb and index finger, guiding your lips to his in a lingering kiss. “I bet I know what part of me you’ll miss most.”
He was teasing you, but you were about to put your heart in the palm of his hand. “I’ll miss all of you,”
Bradley grinned and took you into his arms in a tight embrace. “I’ll miss you, too,”
From his hunched over position, your mouth was right next to his ear, meaning he was at the perfect height for you to whisper, “I think I’m falling for you,”
There it was.
You had given him your heart. It was his to take, and you supposed it was also his to break, as it was like a switch flipped inside him.
His body tensed against yours, and you immediately regret ever opening your mouth. Before you could take your words back, Bradley pulls away and keeps his hands on your waist as he mutters, “What?”
You felt your eyes burn instantly, your lower lip threatening to quiver as you stared up at him. “I..” You weren’t sure what to say. You had clearly mistaken your role in his life, and you wished you had never said anything. You had completely fucked things up. But there was no going back now. “I’m falling for you, Bradley.”
His eyes flicker between yours before he stands back up to his full height. ���That’s what I thought you said,” he muttered under his breath. You feel your heart fall as he steps away from you, his arms dropping back to his sides. “Fuck, I wish you didn’t tell me that.”
You quickly begin building walls up around your heart as you stand your ground, swallowing harshly as you ask, “Why not?”
Bradley’s eyes turn cold as he answers you, “Because that wasn’t what this was supposed to be,”
It was as if that was the most obvious answer in the world.
You shake your head and wrap your arms around yourself, glancing around at the many people who were sending their loved ones off with sad smiles and hugs. “I’m sorry. I can’t help how I feel, Bradley,” you say quietly and he just scoffs.
“We were just having fun, Y/n,” he says and grabs his bag that he had set down on the dock when you arrived. He slings it over his shoulder and places his aviators over his eyes. “That’s all this was. You’re ten years younger than me, what did you think was going to happen here? We’re in two different places in our lives, and I thought that was obvious.”
You break eye contact as the first of many tears begin to fall. “It wasn’t,” was all you managed to say before he was sighing heavily and backing away from you.
“If that’s the case, sorry for leading you on,” he said as he turned and began walking up the ramp. He had only walked about four steps before he stopped with a heavy sigh. He turned to glance back at you, seeing that you hadn’t moved from your spot, and you hadn’t taken your eyes off the wooden dock below you. “Look, I don’t want to leave it like this, but I need to go. I’ll call you if I can, okay? We’ll talk more about it when I come back.”
You just nod, not bothering to lift your head and meet his eyes.
Without another word being shared between the two of you, Bradley steps onto the carrier deck and waits to be shipped off. Though he knows he shouldn’t, he glances up at the dock and his heart falls at what he saw.
You were still where he left you, but that was when he finally caught sight of the tears that were steadily rolling down your face. You did a pretty good job at hiding them when he was right next to you, but now that he was far away, you had lifted your head and he was given a clear view of your pretty face as you cried.
He realized then that he had royally fucked up, and he needed to make things right before he left for a month and a half.
Bradley watched as an elderly woman gently placed her hand on your arm, surely thinking that you were crying because you were sad about having to say goodbye to your loved one, when in reality he had just broken your heart.
As you began making your way through the crowd and towards your car, he cursed under his breath and fumbled around in his bag for his phone, regret filling his body as he clicked on your contact.
He watched as you stopped walking through the crowd and pulled out your phone, and to his surprise, you actually answered. “What?” You sounded so sad, and it only made him further regret the words he said to you.
It wasn’t even the truth, and he hoped you would give him the chance to explain that to you. He needed to be quick, though, because he knew he would quickly lose service once the carrier started moving. “Baby, I’m sorry,” he rasped out, his heart skipping a beat when he saw the way you turned to look over at him. He tried to meet your eyes as he continued, “I’m sorry, okay? Let’s talk about this now.”
You furrow your brows and shake your head. “There’s nothing to talk about, Bradley,”
“Yes, there is,” he insisted, feeling his heart drop once the carrier started to pull away from the dock.
“There’s not,” you muttered. “I mistook my place, disrespected your boundaries and that’s on me. Completely my fault.”
“No, that’s- no,” he begged but he knew he didn’t have enough time to get through to you. “Please, just, wait for me. I’ll call you as soon as I can, we’ll talk and-”
“And what, Bradley?” You cut him off. “You said it yourself; I’m too young for you. Too immature. It’s best if we just end this now so we can both stop wasting our time.”
“You’re not a waste of time,” he said quickly, watching as your form slowly began to disappear the further he drifted away from you. “I’ve loved every second I’ve spent with you, and I think I’m-”
Before he could also give you his heart, you had broken it with a simple sentence, “You’re cutting out,” and you were, too, but somehow your last few words were crystal clear. “I know where we stand now. Goodbye, Bradley.”
And then you hung up. And he was left to drop his hand back down to his side in defeat as he silently prayed he was able to call you within the next few days.
-
A whopping six hours had passed since Bradley had been shipped off when he found himself missing you.
His arms ached to be wrapped around you, his lips missed the taste of yours, and his heart longed with a sense of need to know that you would still be his once he returned home.
His.
Bradley had to laugh.
You weren’t his.
He hadn’t managed to step up and ask you to take things to the next level yet before he was ruining everything. He hadn’t given a possible real relationship with you a chance.
God, he was so mean, belittling you as if you deserved to be treated with anything other than respect and kindness. He acted like a proper asshole, and he deserved to feel all the things he felt right now.
Shame. Guilt. Regret. Anger. He felt all of it all at once, and he hated himself for hurting you.
Had he known the sad sight of you crying because of him was all he needed to get his act straight, he would’ve told you he loved you when you confessed to falling for him back on the dock.
Bradley loves you. Why did it take losing you for him to realize that?
A couple weeks passed before he was allowed the opportunity to call you, and as he put your number in, he found himself praying to anyone that may have been listening that you would answer.
He felt a little more than deflated when it rang five times before he was sent to your voicemail. He listened to your sweet voice ask him to leave you a message, and he did, but he also knew you wouldn’t be able to call him back once you listened to the message.
If you listened to it at all.
“Hey, sweet girl. I… God, I wish you picked up, but I understand why you didn’t. A few weeks ago…fuck, I was so out of line, baby, and I’m sorry for that. I didn’t mean what I said. I didn’t mean any of it, I’m just a fucking idiot when it comes to this kind of thing and I threw all my issues on you, and you didn’t deserve that,” Bradley waited a beat or two before he continued, “I’m so sorry. I miss you, and I know I have no right to ask this of you, but I hope I can see you on the day I get back to San Diego. I only have just under a month to go, and I can’t wait to see you and talk about this in person, if you’ll let me.”
He felt pathetic, leaving you a sappy message you couldn’t even reply to.
“I’m sorry, again, and I hope things have been going well for you,” he ended the message after that, reluctantly hanging up and returning back to his bunk, where he threw himself down on the bed that felt too empty without you by his side.
-
It went on like that for weeks.
Bradley would go to sleep, wake up, complete whatever he needed to do for the day, then do it all over again, all while thinking about you.
He was counting down the days until he was able to return home and back to you, but he wasn’t sure he even had the right to seek you out once he was off the carrier.
He had called you again a few days ago, and you had once again given him your voicemail. Two calls in, and it was silent on your end. He missed you terribly, missed your flowery scent, your kind smiles, your voice, and the feeling of your body tucked against his.
Yeah, he missed the sex, but he missed you more. All of you.
You were so close to being his. You had put your heart on your sleeve, completely his for the taking, and he rejected you. Like a fucking idiot.
He knew he would get an earful from Nat once he got back, and he was honestly looking forward to it. He knew he deserved it, and he couldn’t think of a better person to call him out on his bullshit than his best friend.
Another week flew by after he successfully completed his mission, and he was a few quick hours away from the same dock he had left you on a month and a half ago.
While he didn’t expect you to be there to greet him once he stepped off the carrier, he still felt his heart break a bit as he finally let it all sink in. A few feet from where he stood now, he had broken your heart.
He dropped his bag onto the dock below him as he pulled his phone out and called you, once again disappointed when he was sent to your voicemail. Before he could stop himself, he left you a message, “Hey, it’s me. I’m back home now, and I still really want to see you. I want to try to explain myself and why I said the things I did. I’m still so sorry, Y/n/n, really, I am,” he ended it after that, and used the last bit of battery he had left to call Nat in hopes she would come and pick him up.
Like he expected, Nat did end up chewing him out during the entire ride home, and even in his own driveway. Bradley just sat there and took it, knowing he deserved every harsh dig that was thrown at him and more.
When she angrily reached over and hugged him in the car, she promptly told him to get out and that she would see him later at the Hard Deck.
Bradley unlocked the front door and stepped into his house, the silence being the last thing he wanted to be met with. You were in your twenties, you were young and loud and cheerful, he had gotten so used to how chaotic his life had become since you entered it. It was chaotic in the best way, and he missed the loud laughs you would emit as he carried you down the hall to his room, or when the two of you would skip out on beers with your friends to watch a comedy in his living room instead.
He sulked his way to his room, and his heart deflated even more at the sight he was met with. Nat had gone on about how she had to use the key Bradley gave her to let you into his house while he was away, and how she was confused about that until now.
Gone was your phone charger and old movies you kept by the TV he had on his dresser, and he was sure your clothes in his laundry room were picked up as well. The left side of his bed was bare of your uni hoodie, a thing he had a strong amount of fondness for.
Coming home to a quiet house was one thing, but walking into a bedroom that lacked any personality at all was something else. The small things you kept in there made it appear more lived in, more cared for than he had ever tried to make it look, and he once again was reminded just how much he had fucked up.
You made him happy, were the reason he looked forward to the end of his days because it would likely mean he would end them with you, like he had been for the good part of the last six months.
Bradley let out a frustrated sigh as he threw his bag onto the bed. He plugged his phone in before heading into the bathroom, his eyes glancing at the spotless counter. A few of your face washes and creams had taken up space next to the sink the last time he was in here, but now they were gone too.
He quickly realized how much he loved having your things at his house. God, did he miss you.
After the quickest shower of his life, Bradley got dressed in jeans and a Hawaiian shirt and unplugged his phone. It had only been charged up to thirty four percent, but he didn’t plan on going on the device too much once he arrived at the Hard Deck.
He grabbed his keys and wallet before he started up his beloved Bronco, typing out a quick text to you in hopes you’d actually answer him this time.
You’re ignoring me and that’s fine, but I hope I’ll be able to see you at the Hard Deck tonight? If not, maybe we can meet up later and I can explain everything to you. Please. I don’t want it to end like this.
He didn’t want it to end at all, but especially not with you thinking you weren’t all he could ever want.
To his surprise, you had actually gotten back to him pretty fast, and your response had him quickly backing out of his driveway and speeding down the road towards the Hard Deck.
Y/n/n: Seems as though luck is on your side today. Glad you’re back home and safe. I guess I’ll see you tonight.
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Can u please do smut or fluff of this with rooster or hangman:
Y/n: hey can you zip me up?
R or H: Sure!
...
Y/n: I said zip me up not down
Ooh thank you for this sweet request, I had so much fun with this one!!
The Zipper Incident
Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Fem!Reader
Summary: You're running late and need some help zipping up your dress. After recovering from the initial shock of seeing you all dolled up, Rooster is more than happy to assist.
CW: Fluff, angst, swearing, a pinch of smut. You stand up your date, which is shitty of you, but it's probably worth it.
I’d like to think that this little drabble could be a prelude to this fic but it’s absolutely not a necessity to read it first. I just had this particular dynamic in mind while writing this.
You rush out of the locker room in a panic, whipping your head around to see if anyone is still around. Your date is imminent – t-minus twenty minutes and counting – and you’ve spent the last forty-five on your hair and makeup only to suffer a devastating wardrobe malfunction at zero hour.
You’re sure that everyone is long gone but you nonetheless shuffle over to the guys’ locker room on the off chance that perhaps somebody might still be in the building.
Just as you’re coming up on the door, Bradley walks out and you nearly collide with him in your haste.
“Woah!” he yells, holding his arms out in case you wouldn’t be able to stop in time.
“Oh my god, Rooster! Thank god!” you shriek.
Now that he’s had a moment to process the situation, Bradley is blinking at you oddly, his eyes slipping briefly to glance at your dress before reverting to your face.
While you’re flattered that your outfit has rendered him speechless – the guy’s never seen you in anything but a uniform – you hardly have time for this kind of delay. “Rooster, can you do me a favor, please? Can you zip me up?” You turn your back to him promptly and twist your arm behind you to point to the zipper that’s gotten stuck halfway up.
“Uh.” Bradley stalls and you look over your shoulder to see his gaze trailing down your bare back as he tentatively lifts his hands.
“Bradshaw, today!” you urge, bouncing slightly on the spot while you hold up the front of your strapless dress.
You feel his fingers graze your back as he pulls gently on the zipper. “It’s jammed,” he says a little hoarsely.
You let out an exasperated sigh. “No shit,” you reply. “Look, I’ve got a date in” – you close your eyes and whimper desperately – “fifteen minutes. Could you maybe put those big, strong muscles to good use?” You throw him a deriding look before glancing pointedly at the arm that's taking up approximately half of your field of view. His bicep is even more pronounced than usual in the tight, black t-shirt he’s wearing.
Rooster exhales slowly, tugging more deliberately on the zipper. “I don’t want to break it,” he says.
This statement gives you pause and you spin around sharply, nearly taking Bradley’s hands with you. “You can’t break it!” you exclaim. “I have nothing else to wear!”
Bradley watches you steadily. “Well,” he says with a small smirk. “Don’t rush me, then.”
You eye him warily before turning back around. “Okay,” you say. “But you don’t have all day,” you mutter when he starts to fiddle with the zipper once more.
His hands stop moving and he clears his throat. “We had a deal.”
You sigh, starting to tap your foot, when your feel his hands close around your shoulders.
“You’re wiggling,” he says.
“I’m anxious,” you retort sourly.
Bradley steps closer until his chest is brushing lightly against your back, and leads you out into the center of the corridor. “I need more light,” he says.
You close your eyes. “It’s a fucking zipper, Bradshaw. You operate a fifteen tonne, seventy-million-dollar government vehicle fifty thousand feet off the ground but this is somehow a struggle?”
Bradley’s hands stop moving. “That fifteen tonne vehicle came with an instruction manual and five years of training.”
“Oh, hang on,” you say. “Let me just pull out my zipper manual. I don’t go anywhere without that thing.”
Bradley snorts. “You’re distracting me,” he says, yanking slightly on the zipper and, in the process, pulling you closer.
You hang your head defeatedly, trying to stay still while he works to fix your dress.
After several moments of silence, Bradley speaks again. “You have a date, huh?”
You stare at the space where the floor meets the wall, taken aback by his question. You and Bradley have but a smidge of history; you met a few months ago when you were brought in for a mission together, and have since been assigned to the same squadron. You’ve flirted here and there, exchanged a few meaningful glances, but nothing more than the occasional tease has ever come to pass. You’re both professionals and, as such, are amply aware that any sort of romantic entanglement would quickly dissolve into a logistical nightmare fraught with more paperwork than either of you would care to complete. And yet, the insinuation in his tone, paired with the intermittent brush of his hands along your back sends a quiet thrill through your body, resulting in a soft blush that heats your cheeks and creeps down your neck. You nervously pat down your hair, making sure it obscures your reddening face before you respond with a casual, “Mm-hm.”
“Anyone I know?” he asks, his thumb sweeping over your shoulder blade as he takes a break from wrestling with the zipper.
Suddenly you’re extremely aware of how short your dress is and how very loosely it hangs around your sides as you clutch it to your chest. “I doubt it,” you say quickly, wondering how you hadn’t noticed the obvious draft coming from the vent overhead until right now while firmly pressing the material of your dress against your rapidly hardening nipples.
“Well, you look nice,” he says, his voice a little rough as he resumes his efforts with the zipper.
You bite down hard on your lip, trying to suppress the shiver triggered by his words. “Would be nicer if I were fully dressed,” you respond flatly.
“Debatable,” Rooster counters.
You swallow uneasily as Bradley continues jerking at your dress. He’s flirting with you now? Ten minutes till go time? After weeks of avoiding every instance of physical contact, including that time you sprained your ankle and he called Phoenix over to help you get to medical instead of taking you himself?
Suddenly, you feel the waist of your dress release as the zipper gives. You gasp, pressing the fabric against your body as it starts to glide.
“Bradshaw!” you yelp. “I said ‘zip me up!’”
“Sorry!” Bradley fumbles with the dress. “It slipped.”
“Sure,” you say with a note of cynicism in your tone.
Bradley chuckles, sliding the zipper back up. “I promise, it was unintentional.” He pauses for a moment, his fingers still holding the clasp even after having completed the task you’ve given him. He runs his palms along your shoulders before they come to rest on your upper arms. “You’ve got a nice back,” he says quietly.
You freeze, trying to come up with an adequate response to the most unexpected of compliments, but you can’t bring yourself to face him because you’re blushing anew. You take a second to gather your thoughts, close your eyes to savour the moment. You’ve completely forgotten about the time and how much of it you might have left because all your concentration is devoted entirely to the gentle sweep of Bradley’s fingers as they slide down your arms.
“First date?” he asks.
You’re furious. You’re livid. Where was all this attention four weeks ago when all that glorious flirting amounted to absolutely nothing. “Second,” you respond curtly.
“Getting serious,” he says wryly, his hands trailing all the way down to your fingertips before they finally fall to his sides.
You chuckle and, although it’s becoming increasingly difficult to restrain yourself from turning to face him, you mutter a quick, “Thanks, Rooster,” while smoothing out the wrinkles on the front of your dress.
Bradley walks around to take a look at you from the front and now you have no choice but to meet his gaze. You give him a tight smile and do a little curtsy and he laughs, shaking his head.
“That’s a hell of a dress,” he says.
You give him a serious look. “It’s not the dress, Bradshaw. It’s the model.”
He grins at you in amusement. “Can’t argue with that.”
You nod slowly, slightly lost in his eyes, when you suddenly remember that you’re running late. “Shit! What’s the time?” You lunge forward to grab his forearm so that you could check his wristwatch. “Fuck! I have to run!”
You drop Bradley’s hand, glancing up at him sharply. He’s watching you with a bewildered expression, as though he wasn’t expecting you to actually leave. “Okay,” he says. “Have a good time.”
You nod and start to draw back, finally turning and escaping down the hall and into the women’s changeroom. Once the door is closed behind you, you sink down on a bench, bringing a hand to your unsettled stomach. The interaction with Bradley has resulted in a revival of that ridiculous crush you had on him when you first arrived on base. You’ve been fairly successful at quashing those feelings, right up until ten minutes ago when Bradley was able to effectively resuscitate them with a vengeance.
You let out a frustrated sigh and start putting away your belongings. You step into your heels and sit back down to do up the straps. Walking over to the mirror, you fix your hair and take a moment to admire your makeup. No wonder Bradley was flabbergasted. He’s never even seen you wear lipstick.
You pick up your purse after shoving your backpack into a locker and head for the door but, when you walk out, Bradley is still there, waiting for you.
You waver on the spot upon seeing him while he hesitates slightly before approaching you. His eyes rake over your figure before finally resting on your face. “I can’t let you go on that date,” he says, his rasp more pronounced somehow, perhaps because he’s trying to keep his voice down.
You gulp nervously, blinking up at him as your cheeks flush. “Why not?” you ask quietly.
Bradley bites into his bottom lip as the corner of his mouth curls upward mischievously. “Because even thinking about you on a date with someone else is making me angry.”
You let out a shallow breath as his eyes focus briefly on your lips. “Why?” you whisper.
You feel Bradley’s hand cup your waist, pressing you gently into the wall at your back while he takes another step forward. He lowers his head and you lift your gaze as he towers over you, as he places the palm of his other hand on the wall behind your head. His breathing is heavier than usual but he comes closer still, caging you in. “Because it should be me,” he says hoarsely.
You lower your gaze but soon feel his fingers under your chin, lifting your face to look at him. “You didn’t ask me,” you manage to say despite the distracting pounding in your temples. “Are you only interested because I’m unavailable?”
Bradley slowly shakes his head, bringing his forehead to rest on yours. The hand that’s been leaning against the wall slips down to your shoulder as he takes another step closer and his body brushes yours. “You know that’s not true,” he says.
You put a hand on his abdomen, pushing him away half-heartedly. “I know that you’ve had plenty of opportunities to make this happen and chose not to.”
Bradley brings his hand down on top of yours on his stomach. “Maybe I was intimidated,” he mutters with a grin.
You roll your eyes. “Am I less intimidating in a dress?”
He shakes his head, his smile widening. “More.” His fingers close around yours, still pressed against his rock-hard abs. “But you left me no choice. I had to just bite the bullet and go for it.”
You glance up at him reproachfully. “I’m late,” you say.
Bradley pulls his lips into a frown as his eyebrows crease. “Stay,” he pleads.
You scoff, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, Bradley,” you say. “You’re late too.” You start to peel your back from the wall, forcing him to back away from you.
He takes several steps backward, the disappointment evident on his face. “You don’t want to go,” he says quietly.
You raise your eyebrows. “How the fuck do you know what I want?” you ask, offended.
He watches you piercingly. “I can tell you want to stay.”
“If you can tell, then why didn’t you ask me out before?” you say angrily.
“Because I’m an idiot!” he responds heatedly.
“Well, at least we agree on that,” you say.
Bradley sucks in his cheeks, nodding contemptuously. “Now what?” he asks. “Ball’s in your court.”
You stare at him crossly. “Now nothing, Bradley,” you say. “You didn’t start anything because you knew that it would be a conflict of interest. That, if anybody found out, one of us would end up being reassigned.”
“Who has to find out?”
You close your eyes briefly before giving him a withering look. “Well, now we know where your head’s at.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You just want to fuck,” you say matter-of-factly.
Bradley stares at you, speechless for a moment. “What are you talking about?”
“Sorry, Bradshaw,” you say. “That’s not my style.”
But when you turn to leave, Bradley springs after you, grabbing your arm and pulling you back around. “You’ve got it wrong,” he says. “I promise you.”
You eye his fingers, still wrapped firmly around your arm. “Come on, ‘Nobody has to know?’” You glance up at him disdainfully. “You obviously don’t see a future here.” You regret the words the moment they leave your mouth, recognizing how unreasonable it is to expect him to see much of anything with someone he hardly knows. But his words have caused quite a sting which, in turn, has made you slightly irrational. “You know this is a bad idea,” you say finally, reluctantly.
Bradley takes a step forward, simultaneously pulling you closer. He takes a moment to study your features before speaking. “I know that if you go on your date right now, I’m going to lose my fucking mind,” he says with a small chuckle.
You watch him carefully as he brings a hand up to brush some hair away from your eyes. “I’m really late,” you whisper, your hands moving of their own accord to rest on his hips.
Bradley brings his face down to meet yours, his nose brushing along your cheek. “I really want you to stay,” he says in a low voice, his grip loosening on your arm and his fingers gliding gently up to your shoulder.
You lift your face slightly to let him brush his lips with yours. After an excruciating pause during which his mouth hovers tantalisingly over yours, Bradley finally bridges the gap, confidently capturing your lips in his. His fingertips dig into your shoulders as he presses his body against yours, directing you backward into the wall. He leans into you eagerly, his kiss overriding each of your senses as you adapt to its unpredictable rhythm. Slow and deep, then soft and sweeping, evolving with your every movement. His hands twist rabidly into your hair, rough but restrained as he paces himself while you breathe unevenly against his mouth.
He's warm; swathed around you almost possessively; protectively. You aren’t going anywhere anytime soon. You pant when he finally releases your lips, struggling to steady your heartrate.
Bradley lowers himself slightly to diffuse kisses along your jawline, the pressure of his lips on your skin quickly escalating as the two of you sink into one another. You open your mouth to sigh against his ear when his hand slips underneath the hem of your dress. “Bradley,” you whine as his finger drifts along the line of your panties.
“Yeah baby?” he breathes, his finger tracing circles into the already saturated lace.
“This is a terrible idea,” you whimper as the most torturous desire pulsates through your body.
“Yeah, baby,” Bradley agrees, continuing the gentle strokes of his finger over your soaking panties.
You bite your lip trying to suppress a moan, fevered and nearly shaking, sweating and breathless, unsteady in your heels. You feel transported but unsettled, euphoric but wanting. You nip at Bradley’s earlobe in response to which Bradley presses his mouth into the crook of your neck and releases a muffled groan. You continue sucking on his ear and kissing his neck and the hand that’s been hovering between your legs suddenly grips into your thigh. You let out a soft cry and Bradley stifles it with a passionate kiss. His hand coasts upward, cupping your ass cheek as he presses himself against you, pinning you to the wall. “Bradshaw,” you murmur against his lips. “Can you do me a favor?”
Bradley’s teeth catch your bottom lip before he starts gently pecking your swollen lips. “Anything,” he responds in his grating rasp.
You let out a shallow breath. “Can you unzip me?”
Bradley’s mouth curls into a smile against your lips as his hand glides down your back. “I’ve got you, baby,” he says softly, pulling on the zipper. “I’m an expert.” You chuckle as your dress comes loose but, a moment later, Bradley mutters, “Fuck,” right into your open mouth.
You pull back to stare at him mutely as he gives the zipper a few more tugs. “Don’t tell me,” you say in disbelief.
“What is it with this thing?” Bradley says in exasperation, spinning you around to inspect the contraption. You giggle, resting your forehead on the wall resignedly but, the next moment, Bradley grabs you by the waist and pulls you in. “Fuck it,” he says, lifting the skirt of your dress. “I can work around it.”
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» 𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮
⁘ amongst salt water skin and silken sheets lies insecurities and innocence, but also tenderness and a willingness to learn...
› pairing; bradley bradshaw x f!reader
prompt; ❝ well, honestly i’ve never really had sex before and was kinda hoping you would teach me. ❞ and ❝ don’t be nervous, i’ll guide you through it. ❞
word count; ~ 6.1K
× chapter warnings; loss of virginity, virginity as a normative concept, p in v sex, no use of y/n, smut, porn without plot, creampie, hair tugging, praise kink, innocence kink, corruption(?) if you squint maybe, rooster is a consent king
request; by @diorrfairy. I'm so sorry this took so long my love 🫶
disclaimer; I was rather torn with how I wanted this fic to go. on one hand I wanted it to be how I wished my first time was, yet I did not want to accidentally make it seem as if this is how a 'first time' is supposed to be, if that makes sense. I therefore tried to make it realistic in the way I experienced sex for the first time, but still making it softer, and sweeter, and the way I figure I'd want a first time with someone you love to be. for me sex hurt the first like five times but also my first bf was 6'5 and he was fucking huge so like yeehaw.
tagging people who might like; @roleycoleyland @roosterforme @lewmagoo @theharddeck @seresinsweetie @sebsxphia @rhettabbotts
Being with Bradley was easy. It was sunny, comfortable, and safe. The soft gaze of the aviator could turn your knees weak in a heartbeat. The way he touched you, the way he listened and understood you - and most of all, the way he never pushed you harder than needed to explore new things if you didn’t want to.
Previously, in all relationships you’d had - whether platonic or romantic, you found that people pushed you. Pushed you to participate in things you maybe weren’t entirely ready for, or didn’t wholly feel comfortable with. Like the first time you got drunk, even though you’d told your friends you’d rather just try one beer and then drink soda.
Bradley, however, understood the need for you to feel comfortable and safe. He understood that you needed time to contemplate, to reflect, and to sort of turn and twist an event in your mind a few times before throwing yourself headfirst into it.
So, when the two of you started getting serious, and you, with heat rising to your face, confessed that you ‘hadn’t done much’ in the sexual department, his amber gaze had softened. He’d smiled softly, cradled your cheek in one of his large palms, and placed a tender kiss upon your lips as he promised to take everything in the pace you deemed appropriate.
He wasn’t in a hurry, he’d said before enveloping you in his arms, letting you nuzzle your face into his chest and his safe embrace. Inhaling his scent and feeling his strong arms and hands holding you so delicately, you truly felt safe in his promise not to rush anything.
Bradley had not quite understood your timidness when telling him about not having too much experience. He figured maybe you’d fooled around a little in college with some boys or girls, but that you hadn’t had too many mind blowing sexual encounters. As beautiful and kind as you were, Rooster had a hard time imagining anything else. However, his mother had raised him to always respect a ladies wishes - however small or big that wish was, and he was nothing if not a caring soul himself. He always wanted you to feel safe with him, wanted you to feel you could confide in him, and lay worries and hardships for him to carry with you.
Which was why he was perfectly content to spend lazy afternoons making out with you straddled on his lap, only sneaking in a squeeze of your ass sporadically - keeping his hands placed gently on your waist, only ever letting them grace slowly upwards to your ribcage and to the wire of your bra. The small little noises you made drove him wild, but he wouldn’t be the person to push you. No, Bradley was more than willing to wait until you asked him to touch you.
However, as compassionate and patient a man as Bradley was - he was also a little insecure. He had never felt the way he did with you, and he was glad that you both seemed to be on the same page of slowly cherishing each other’s comfort. Felt secure in that this was something you both felt was something special.
Your relationship was not something that needed to be rushed, because both of you felt that this might be it. But one human can only take so many rejections before they start to wonder if it was something that they did wrong. Had he been pushy? Had he made you feel so uncomfortable that even after months of dating you didn’t want him? Or was it simply the fact that you didn’t find him attractive or arousing enough?
These thoughts swirled and tainted the most noble of intentions within Bradley. He so badly wanted you to feel the way he did about you, that it somewhat clouded his perception. Every sweet, bashful smile as you pulled away from him turned into a confirmation that there was something he was doing wrong.
Perhaps you were not a person who wanted what he wanted. He would be okay with that if that were the case, but as he pondered these possibilities in bed after a particularly nice day at the beach with you, he realized that the best way to go about it was to talk about it.
He smiled as he reminisced on your walk, feet bare in the sand. His heart did double-time as he remembered the way your eyes sparkled, and the way you’d pulled on his hand to draw him into the water with you. Covered in sand and salt water, the two of you had spent the majority of the day in each other's arms (when you were not indulged in very serious bouts of splashing wars) before retreating to Bradley’s home.
Which was how Bradley found himself perched on his bed after a nice shower to wash away the sand and salt, feeling content with the conclusion he had come to. The water was still running, as you were washing away the day as well, further fuelling Bradley’s thoughts. He was torn from them when you emerged, clad in a large, white, oversized silken button-up. It was rather old, and some of the buttons were missing. Your skin looked soft as it gleamed in the glow of the evening light. Looking at you, Bradley couldn’t help the soft smile that stretched across his lips as he raised his arms to signal he wanted you near.
Mimicking his smile, you happily straddled his lap, making yourself comfortable before holding up a small container that Rooster hadn’t noticed before.
“What’s that?” his voice was low, as if the energy of the room shouldn’t be disturbed by loud talking. Fingertips dipped into white cream, before gently ghosting across the skin of his face.
“It’s to soothe the skin, baby,” you explained softly, massaging the cool cream onto Bradley’s warm face. He hummed in reply, letting his hands grasp your hips, running his thumb up and down over the soft silken material. His eyes fluttered shut as you carefully made sure that every surface of his skin was carefully covered, even going down to cover his throat and neck.
“All done.” was whispered against his lips, punctured by the soft feel of your plush lips upon his. Your chest had fallen closer to his bare upper body, and the small container now found its resting place on his nightstand as your hands splayed on his pecs and shoulders.
You deepened the kiss, your tongue curiously exploring and wetting Bradley’s lips before meeting his own tongue slowly. Bradley couldn’t help the groan that escaped him as you pressed closer to him, your tongue so languidly moving with his own, couldn’t help gripping your hips just a little tighter at the small noises you were emitting whilst hesitantly rolling your hips against his grown hard-on.
“Sweets…” Bradley rasped, breaking the kiss. Normally, you would look down and look bashful, but this time your lips traveled across his jaw, fluttering over his pulse point as you hummed in acknowledgement. As you reached a particularly sensitive point and nipped softly, Bradley let out a low moan, his hands moving up your waist before they skimmed back down to let them rest on the globes of your ass. Kneading and grasping he groaned again, not noticing the way you had stopped kissing his neck.
Tensing ever so slightly, you sat up from your position, looking down as nerves fluttered restlessly in your stomach.
“Honey,” Bradley’s voice was soft “talk to me, please. Am I doing something wrong? Do I make you uncomfortable?” his fingers gently asked you to look him in the eye from their place at your chin. Blinking, a small crease formed between your brows.
“N-no, never! I’ve never felt as safe as I do when I’m with you.” the answer came to you easy, spilling truthfully from your lips as you looked into your boyfriend’s amber eyes.
“Why do you ask that?”
“I can feel how tense you are sometimes when we’re like this… you always pull away from me darlin’, and I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page, okay? You can tell me anything. If I’ve done something, or if you just don’t feel like ever doing anything– or if I’m not, y’know, doing enough to turn you on–” he was rambling. He knew he was and yet he couldn’t stop; his worries and anxieties coming out in a way he didn’t want them to. He was almost thankful when you cut him off.
“Bradley, do you think I don’t want to have sex with you because you don’t turn me on enough?” if you weren’t feeling nervous butterflies in your stomach at the aspect of actually feeling ready for taking this step with Bradley, you would have laughed.
“I don’t know… Maybe? Mostly I’ve been worried that I have made you feel unsafe with me. Or that I’ve done something to make you feel as if you don’t want that part of our relationship like that,” it was Bradley’s turn to look bashful. Saying it out loud always made you realize how bizarre some of your thoughts could sound.
“Honey…” you smiled, leaning into your boyfriend again “I– I just… you know I told you how I haven’t done much?” Bradley nodded.
“Of course. I am in no way trying to rush you - I totally understand you may have had other experiences with sex before that makes this uncomfortable and–”
“No, Bradley.” you groaned “you don’t understand–” sighing, you paused for a moment. Maybe it would be better to spell it out. “well… honestly, I’ve never really had sex before–”
Silence hung between two lovers, Bradley’s brows raising slightly in surprise, a feeling of deep guilt settling uncomfortably in his chest.
“Honey… I am so sorry. I never meant– I mean, I figured you must have, you’re so out of this world beautiful…” Bradley looked at you, his eyes soft and filled with love. “I’m sorry, my darling, I just wanted to know if there was something I had done - I will wait for as long as you need,” he straightened up to place his lips upon yours in a soft kiss.
Shaking your head, you broke the kiss, smiling softly at him.
“And– I was kinda hoping you would teach me,” you finished your interrupted sentence, letting your fingers sneak into the hair at the nape of Bradley’s neck, tugging and twirling strands of hair there to ease your nerves. Again, Bradley looked at you with such adoration and love that it nearly took your breath away. His hands were back to soothingly rubbing your sides and hips, the way he held you making you feel precious and secure.
“Darling…” his voice was low but riddled with unspoken emotions, one of his hands moving to cradle your cheek “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want okay. I’m not going anywhere.” his assurance meant the world to you, but you’d felt ready for some time now.
Mulling it over as you first noticed that when the two of you had ended up entangled in bed, or on the sofa, it didn’t make you feel as panicked as it had in the beginning. It felt exhilarating now. It felt like something you wanted. Something you desperately needed with Bradley.
“I really want to.” your voice was firm in its choice, and Bradley sat up more from his position reclined against the headrest to be able to place his lips all over your throat.
“I really want you…” Bradley murmured against your skin as his lips skimmed over the parts he knew had you the most breathless. It drew the tiniest of gasps, followed by a high pitched whimper from you the way he spoke so huskily, so close to your ear, his warm breath momentarily dizzying you.
“Bradley…” you mewled softly “Please!” Bradley’s head was spinning from the sheer thought of loving you like this, but hearing your sweet plea made his breath hitch in his throat, his hard-on jolting slightly in his boxers at the words. Perhaps he should feel some type of embarrassment over that reaction, but he couldn’t find it in him to do so. Not when you were perched on his lap, clad in a loose fitting silken shirt, looking like the divines themselves.
“You say stop and we do, okay?” Bradley searched your eyes, and you nodded, tucking your bottom lip between teeth as anticipation swirled through you. “Gotta hear you say it, honey,” Rooster smirked, reaching up to gently let his thumb draw out your bottom lip from between your teeth. That single act had your breath hitching as he let his thumb trace your lip.
“I say stop and we stop.” you confirmed and Bradley smiled up at you
“Good girl.”
Blinking slowly, you took in the two soft spoken words that had drawn out the most sinful sound from your lips. “Oh, God,” you whispered softly, face heating up in embarrassment. Bradley gently shushed you, before letting his hand inch up your ribcage, his thumbs gracing the underside of your breasts.
“It’s okay, little dove. It’s normal to react this way, alright? Nothing to be embarrassed about.” his voice was so soft, so soothing, that it made you keen even more, needing him closer to you.
“You have no idea how much it turns me on to see you react to me like this…” Bradley wanted you to know that there was nothing shameful in the way you were reacting, and he desperately needed you to understand he never wanted you to suppress any sounds or feelings that might arise between the two of you. He wanted to see it all, hear it all, experience you and your love in its purest form.
His hands wandered ever so slightly further up, gently letting his palm encompass the swell of your breasts in his hands, eyes flitting up to yours to see your reaction to the advancement. Letting out a stuttered breath, you let your head tip back at the sensation of his hands warming the silk against your skin.
As Rooster gently kneaded and pressed against your flesh, another breathy moan spilled from your parted lips. As he let his fingers gently pinch at your pebbled nipple, you cried out, suddenly feeling the need to move. You rocked hesitantly in Bradley’s lap, and another relieved whine left your lips as his hard-on rubbed against your damp underwear.
“Fuck, honey… you’re so beautiful,” Bradley grunted out, trying to hold himself back and not grip your hips and grind you harder down on to him. He truly did believe you had never looked as beautiful as you were now, breath labored, skin glowing in the light that managed to flitter into the room, gently rocking against his lap. He whispered praises against your sternum as his hands slowly kneaded your sensitive flesh, his hot breath fanning over the exposed skin as the shoulder of your night shirt slid down your arm to reveal your breasts.
Bradley took his time kissing and loving your chest, his large hands working up and down your sides, squeezing at your breasts before letting his tongue flutter over hardened nipples, teasing you as you let out soft, high pitched noises. Your brows were furrowed together, eyelids fluttered closed as you moved your hips down on him, panting slightly from the pleasure of his hard cock brushing your clothed clit every so often.
“So pretty…” Bradley murmured before he sucked one nipple into his mouth, groaning at the feel of his lips wrapped around your flesh, relishing in the cry it drew from you, reeling at your body reacting by collapsing closer to him, a hand flying to grasp and tug at his hair. You were pulling him closer, and your movement was starting to become a little frazzled as you were overcome by the pleasure Bradley was giving you.
“Brad–” you were gasping, almost clawing at the back of his head, not sure if you wanted to push him closer to your chest or tug him away. Squirming in your boyfriends’ lap you cried out again, whimpering softly over and over again as you felt his lips release the nipple he had been sucking on, moving to give the other some much needed attention. The cool air against your saliva slick skin had you mewling again. It was all so much, too much, it felt too good, it was dizzying and overwhelming, and Bradley’s hands were touching parts of you you didn’t know were sensitive and–
“Stop!” it was gasped, breathlessly as your eyes shot open, chest heaving before looking down at your boyfriends worried face.
“Too much?” Bradley cooed, reaching up to let his fingertips grace your cheek. Nodding shyly, you leaned into his touch, face heating at the notion that you needed a break.
“It– it was too good, I-I couldn’t…” you trailed off, not entirely sure why you had asked him to stop. There had been a pressure building and sparking in you, and it frightened you. The pleasure you felt when the two of you made out, when he touched you, it was tame in comparison. No one else had ever made that… pressure happen before.
Bradley shushed you softly, licking his lips and smiling softly up at you “S’okay, darling… we’re not in a rush, are we? And if you decide that’s enough for tonight, then that’s alright too.” he assured you, thumbs rubbing against your waist. He couldn’t help that his eyes flickered momentarily to the glistening skin around your breasts, an unfamiliar feeling swirling deep in the pit of his chest at the sight of his saliva marking your skin. It almost made him groan with pleasure, seeing himself on you in any capacity.
“No, I… I really want you. I truly feel ready, because I’ve been thinking of loving you like this for so long now…” you trailed off, again looking down at where your body sat on top of his, stomach flipping a little as you took in the sun kissed skin of his abs… and that dusting of hair that disappeared beneath his boxers. “I just feel a little nervous” you admitted in a whisper, not being able to help the fluttering nerves within your stomach.
“Don’t be nervous… I’ll guide you through it, sweet girl,” Bradley murmured, nudging his nose against yours before letting his lips slowly move with yours, taking his time to let his tongue taste yours, until your arms were once again wrapped around his neck.
“That’s it… good girl, keep going,” Bradley whispered against your lips as you again hesitantly rolled your hips against him. Soft mewls left you at his words, and Bradley couldn’t help but smiling into the kiss, filing away every reaction to his actions for later.
“Does that feel good?” he hummed as he gently gripped your hips, helping you find the right angle to let his cock catch at your entrance before sliding up to your clit. The silk of your panties was dark with your slick, and Bradley could soon feel it covering his own underwear too.
“Yes,” you breathed out, letting your forehead press against his “it– feels funny,” you whined, squeezing your eyes shut as that pressure started to come back, even stronger now. Bradley hummed low in his throat, one hand making its way between your bodies to put more pressure where you needed it.
“Bradley!” you gasped, body jolting slightly as his leaking cock head pressed harder against your sensitive clit. “It’s okay, baby… you’re alright, I’ve got you,” Bradley whispered as he kissed right below your ear, not stopping the slow but steady rocking of your hips.
“I feel like I’m gonna– gonna–” your trembling voice was interrupted by your small gasps and soft moans, again taking your plush bottom lip between your teeth as the sensation grew stronger.
“You’re doing so good, honey– don’t stop; just let go for me, baby,” it was as if you needed Bradley’s soft guidance and assurance, because as soon as he told you to, you could feel that pressure spiking, before it snapped and shot through your entire body. The pleasure coursed through your veins as you came with a loud cry, followed by small whimpers of Bradley’s name, burrowing your face in his neck as you whined softly and rolled your hips a couple of more times.
“There you go… such a good girl… are you alright, doll?” he’s murmuring softly and sweetly against your neck, your pulse thudding hard and fast against his warm lips. Lips that have curved slightly upwards as you cling onto him, fingers gripping at his slightly flexed biceps. You nod against his shoulder, placing a languid chaste kiss to his exposed skin.
“I’m– I don’t think that’s ever happened to me before” heat again spread across your face, and Bradley couldn’t help the way his chest filled with pride, and an unfamiliar emotion that stirred somewhere close to his abdomen. “Did so good, honey. Looked real beautiful for me,” Bradley smiled, gently holding your hair back from your face before pecking your lips. His hands roamed down your body, until his fingers played with the hem of your underwear. Snapping the elastic slightly, making you gasp, he chuckled softly.
“Can I take these off?” nodding, you felt anticipation roll inside you in stormy waves as the two of you moved your bodies so Bradley could take your underwear off. Bradley’s hands kneaded softly at your thighs as you settled back on his lap, his amber eyes searching your worried face. Licking your lips, you took in Bradley’s completely naked form. Sure, you’d seen naked men before, but nothing compared to the golden tan of Bradley’s skin - the ripple of his abs, the dusting of hair that traveled from below his navel to his pubic bone and– oh god.
You of all people was aware of Bradley’s size. He was tall, muscular, slightly burly, and his strong embrace always made you feel safe - whether he was lifting you and dropping you into the ocean earlier today, or if he made a point of helping you reach something high up (even if you didn’t always need the help) - but you hadn’t really used your imagination to be able to conjure this. Resting, hard as a rock, against his stomach, you wondered silently how on earth he would fit in you.
“Honey,” Bradley tried to keep from chuckling, smirking, or sounding too smug when he spoke “it’s alright. We’ll go as slow as needed, love. I’ve got you.” and you trusted your boyfriend, you truly did, but still - how?
As a distraction, Bradley’s ever working hands had snuck upwards, the pads of his fingers now caressing your sensitive clit, drawing a soft mewl from your parted lips. “That’s it, relax,” he murmured in encouragement as his fingers gently rubbed at your core, letting his middle finger slip further and further into your heat.
“Oh!” pitching forward, you rested your forehead against your boyfriend’s broad shoulder, moaning involuntarily at the feeling of Bradley pumping his finger in and out slowly, stretching and preparing you. It felt good, that one finger didn’t yet feel uncomfortable. It was when he added a second one that you whined a little and squirmed against him. His voice soothed you, and as he found a spot within you that had you gasping every time his fingers graced it, you found your hips slowly starting to rock against his rhythm to seek out more of the feeling.
“Bradley…” his name tumbled from your lips in a needy gasp as his lips attached themselves to the delicate skin of your neck. You could feel his hot, wet tongue glide over the skin, his teeth nipping slightly before letting his lips close over the area to gently mark your neck.
“Yes, sweetheart?” his reply was murmured against your skin, his mustache scratching lightly above your pulse point. “Think I want–” you paused “think I want you now…” it was strange how the words rolled off your tongue, embarrassment filling you up slightly at the admission, even with Bradley’s fingers knuckle deep in your pussy. The soft groan that reverberated from your boyfriend's chest made you squeak slightly in surprise, your walls clenching around his fingers as the sound spurred on your arousal.
“Alright,” Bradley withdrew from the crook of your neck, where he’d had his face nuzzled, to look you in the eyes, giving you a soft smile as his fingers too withdrew from within you.
“Do you have any condoms, sweets?” he murmured, tilting his head upwards slightly to place a chaste kiss to your warm cheek. Shaking your head no, you placed a soft kiss to his warm lips, admitting to him that you had been on birth control for some years now. You momentarily worried he might ask why you’d bother with contraceptives if you were a virgin. You’d rather not go into detail about how it can regulate your cycle. He just smiled, eagerly chasing your lips for another kiss as his hands stroked up and down your waist - where your silken shirt had created a halo around your midsection.
“Tell me again what we’d do if you said a certain word?” Bradley looked into your eyes, his brown ones calm and filled with a serenity you could easily get lost in, as his large hand gently held your chin. Licking your lips, you managed a small smile down at your lover as you sat straddled across his lap, his hard cock leaking precum all over that faint line of hair that drove you absolutely insane with want.
“I say stop and we stop.”
“Good girl,” at your slight shiver at the deep timbre of his voice, your boyfriend couldn’t keep his smirk at bay, loving how well you responded to his praise.
Large hands gripped your hips as you rose slightly to your knees, your own hands which had been alternating between gripping Roosters biceps, clinging onto his shoulders, or being wrapped around his neck, now fluttered hesitantly down his chest, over his abdominals and down to that tantalizing little trail… The sound Bradley let out sounded relieved yet also a little strained as you hesitantly let your fingertips grace the underside of his hard cock, following along the prominent vein that ran along it.
“Should I—” you licked your lips, gaze flickering up momentarily to his “should I touch you, before we..?” Bradley smiled softly and shook his head no “I am embarrassingly close to coming just from seeing you like this honey… it’s alright,” a soft smile spread on your lips as you still let your fingers curiously feel around your boyfriends hard shaft, feeling the ridges and veins, surprised at the silky feel of the warm skin. Humming softly you settled on letting your hands rest upon his shoulders again as he again gripped your hips to guide you into a position he deemed appropriate.
Bradley’s head was spinning as he positioned his cock against your entrance, gently dragging his swollen head between your slick folds, having to take shallow breaths as he heard your whimpers and mewls. He repeated this motion over and over, ghosting over your hole, alternating between stimulating your clit and the sensitive skin around your heat. Soon enough you were rutting against the underside of his cock, making him slicked with your arousal.
“Fuck, you feel so good!” Bradley groaned as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, desperately trying to get more of him. “Bradley! Please, please,” you whined, biting down slightly on his skin, drawing a deep moan from his parted lips. He let the very tip of his cock slowly enter you before he withdrew again, sliding his cock up towards your clit again. You had gasped and moaned at the short sensation, and Bradley could tell you thought you could take all of him with the way you were bucking your hips, trying to sink down on him.
“Slow down, baby… I’ll get you there, okay? Can’t take all of me yet…” he murmured against your temple, letting his lips linger there for a moment before he again lowered you slightly onto his weeping cock, the very tip breaching your core.
You were panting now, as Bradley stilled your hips on him, this time not withdrawing as he let himself dip slightly deeper into you. Eyes widening, you whined at the sharp sting of his girth stretching you.
“Shh, honey, you’re alright, I’ve got you,” his calm voice grounded you and you nodded against his shoulder. Bradley had done his best to prepare you, and you were thoroughly wet for him - but still, as he gently lowered you deeper onto him, tears sprang from your eyes at the sharp sting of being stretched by him.
“I’m sorry, love.” Bradley furrowed his brows as he gently guided you to look at him, wiping at the tears that had leaked from your lashes. “Do you want to stop?” he murmured, large palm soothingly stroking up and down your spine.
Even though the sharp sting wasn’t exactly comfortable, the feeling of his warmth, and the feeling of being so full still made your insides vibrate with feelings of love and arousal - a feeling that felt rather paradoxical in relation to the sharp stings you felt whenever you moved. Ultimately you spoke a tiny no, leaning into Bradley, seeking his solace and his safe embrace. Whenever you felt vulnerable, or were hurting, you sought out his safety.
“Being so brave, little dove… being my good girl,” Bradley cooed, letting his strong arm wrap around you, his other slowly moving downwards, gently letting the pad of his finger rest against your clit as he lowered you a few more inches, until finally you sat flush against him. Biting your lip, your fingertips dug into the skin of Roosters biceps hard as he shushed you and praised you even more, making your stomach flip and your heart stutter in your chest. You had no idea mere words could ignite such a fire within you.
Speaking softly to you, whispering praise and words of love into your ear, Bradley slowly let his fingertips grace over your back, down your arms, over your thighs, your breasts.. as his thumb gently swiped over your nipple, you let out a needy moan. Gently pinching, he drew out another whimper from you, and your breathing seemed to pick up again as he rolled it between his fingers, his palm massaging and kneading your flesh.
“S’that feel good, honey?” he smiled as you looked him in the eyes, biting your lip and nodding as you experimentally rolled your hips - scrunching your face up, you whined softly at the feeling of discomfort, which was soothed by Bradley’s quick, distracting hands.
Letting your lips crash against his, Bradley groaned as he used both hands to knead and pinch at your tits and nipples as you rocked slowly on his cock. Gasping and whimpering, you tried lifting your hips and sinking down again, finding that if you did it ever so slightly, it didn’t sting as much and it actually felt good when the tip of his cock hit that little spot inside you.
“Bradley!” you whimpered against his lips, his name slightly muffled. After the initial pain, you were reeling from the realization that your boyfriend’s cock was buried in your pussy, and he was letting you ride him slowly. Moaning, you leaned slightly back, taking in the sight before you. In your frenzy, you had messed up his hair, and his eyes were glossy with lust, lips slightly swollen. The setting sun was making his tan skin glow, and the freckles that had formed on his shoulders made him look all the more incredible to you.
“Fuck, god, you’re so fuckin’ tight… feel fucking incredible, Jesus, baby… I love you,” Bradley’s eyes were rolling upwards as you rode him a little faster, his cock pulsing with every slight movement you made.
“I love you,” you whispered, the words ghosting over his skin. Bradley let his hands wander from your tits down to the globes of your ass, squeezing and kneading your asscheeks as you moved up and down on his cock.
“Can I take over a little, baby?” he murmured into your ear, licking your lips, you nodded quickly, feeling Bradley’s grip on your ass tighten as he lifted and grinded you down against him. A gasp was quickly followed by a loud moan as he angled your hips ever so slightly, making your clit catch on his pubic bone. He sped up slightly, guiding your hips so they rolled and bounced slightly in time with his small thrusts, the head of his cock brushing that spot again and again, making you whimper and keen over and over.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Bradley grunted and groaned as he fucked you onto his leaking cock. He was so fucking close, you were gripping and clenching so hard around him, and he was sure he was going to blow his load soon. “Baby you feel so fucking good.. god, this tight little pussy was fuckin’ made for my cock, wasn’t it? Was made to be fucked by me,” Bradley grunted as he babbled, that feeling he felt earlier exploding in his chest at your needy mewls.
Growling, he took your loud moans as his go ahead to go just a little faster, fuck you just a little deeper. His one forearm wrapped around the curve of your ass as the other snuck up between your shoulder-blades, where he gripped the hair at the nape of your neck. A loud cry spilled from your lips as your eyes fluttered close, your body instantly relaxing and going almost limp in his hold as you moaned repeatedly. Growling, Bradley bucked his hips to fuck into you instead of lowering you down on him, and your needy cries made him almost black out with pleasure.
Soon, he heard you gasping, moaning and crying his name over and over in pleasure. “That’s it honey, tell me who’s making you feel good.. who’s fucking this tight little pussy of yours so good,” his words made your eyes roll back into your head, and with a cry of his name you came for the second time, your slick creating a creamy ring around the base of his cock as he fucked you through the first orgasm you’d ever experienced with someone inside you.
Whimpering and mewling, the waves of pleasure didn’t stop coming, it just kept going as Bradley’s cock pumped fast and deep into your wet cunt. Your bedroom was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, a wet sound that you found rather arousing, and your labored breaths and moans.
“Babe, god I’m so close,” Bradley moaned, holding you tighter to his chest as he gasped, his cock and balls pulsing with the need to release. “Should I pull out?” he wasn’t all together sure he could. “No!” you whined, fingers tangling themselves in his hair. You’d never felt like this before. Your chest was swirling with the need to keep him close, keep him inside of you, you never wanted him to leave.
“Need you, Brad, need you!” you could barely form a full sentence, your words sounding more like whimpery babbles. At your pleas, Bradley grunted and groaned before he swore loudly, his hips bucking before his cock twitched and his release spurted deep within you.
Feeling his warm seed spilling in you, your eyes rolled back slightly again as you moaned. Bradley’s whole body was shuddering as he ground you down against him, his balls tightening again and again as he released ropes upon ropes of his cum deep in your pussy.
Sweaty bodies tangled together as you slumped forward against his heaving chest, your own breath labored and unsteady. Nuzzling into his pecs, you could hear and feel the way his heart beat hard inside his chest. “Love you,” you murmured, kissing at his sternum. Rooster’s large hand caressed the back of your head as you both came down from your highs.
“Might hurt a little when I pull out…” he murmured against the top of your head, and you let out a dissatisfied whine whilst pouting.
“Are you okay, honey?” he continued, and you smiled and nodded, feeling perfectly content as you laid in the safe arms of your lover, having just given him all of your love, and receiving all of him and his love back.
AHHHHH fuck this one took forever to finish, and i'm not entirely happy with the ending - but i hope someone might enjoy it still<3 please let me know what you think! i'm always open for constructive crit <3
special thanks to coley and em for helping me through my writers block and cheering me on<3
#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley rooster bradshaw x you#rooster x reader#rooster x you#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw smut#my writing#smut
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