#bradley rooster bradshaw fic
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hands to yourself | dilf bradley bradshaw x nanny!reader (18+)
surprised with an afternoon to himself, bradley takes advantage of the alone-time, thinking about the woman he can’t have.
warnings: shameless pwp, bradley is down bad for his nanny and hasn’t touched himself — or anyone — in a long ass time. masturbation, pining, swearing, fantasising about oral and such. voyeurism, kinda, he gets walked in on. I may write a part two for this but idk yet. I just needed to write a lil smth about him touching himself. Wc: 3k
this is the lingerie set I was thinking of but imagine whatever ya like x
…
Bradley drops his keys into the bowl by the door, they land with a stark rattle. The faint tan-line between his brows disappears into the crease that caused it as he frowns. He looks towards the stairs, and then wanders in the living room. His boots tap softly against the floor.
“Kids?” He calls out into the unfamiliar quiet.
Nothing. His eyes widen in slight panic, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair as he looks around him. The floor is spotless — their toys are stored neatly in their bins, there aren’t any new stains on his rug, and there aren’t any cartoons on his television.
The sound of his boots on the ground are unnerving; he can’t bring himself to admit that he misses the sounds of chaos he usually returns to. He wanders through the house, making a beeline for the backyard. Sunny day like this, he figures that’s where he’ll find them.
Nothing. The yard is completely empty beside the laundry hanging out to dry. His mouth feels dry.
Once the mid-day mind fog dissipates, Bradley’s panic starts to, too. That birthday party. You’d mentioned it twice this week already, and once this morning. He’s just forgetful at the minute — — you know how crazy work has been for him.
He pauses, standing in his unusually clean living room, and purses his lips. His hands come to rest on his hips while he looks around him. He isn’t used to this.
Usually, within seconds of him walking through the door, he’s got a kid attached to his leg or a fight to break up or a permission slip to sign.
There’s nothing that he needs to do.
Nothing urgent.
Nobody else home.
Lifting his wrist, he takes a quick glance down at his watch and considers what to do with his sudden freedom. Birthday parties take a couple of hours, right?
He takes one final look around him, his eyes catching on the laundry drying outside. Clipped to the line is a power-blue balconette bra. He’s seen it before. The day he accidentally walked in on you.
Since you moved in four months ago, Bradley has been especially careful about knocking first. He wishes he could say it’s because he’s a gentleman. Really, it’s just because it made it hard enough for him to keep his hands to himself the first time.
There had been a heatwave that week. You had the afternoon off but Bradley hadn’t been able to find the sunscreen, and his kids are damn near impossible to keep out of the sunlight. With them arguing downstairs and trying to figure out the lock to let themselves out, he just wasn’t thinking and he hadn’t knocked.
“Hey, do you know where you put the—“ He’d stopped, frozen, taking in the sight of you sprawled across your bed. His bed. The bed he gave to you when you got the job of living here. A red popsicle between your lips and a book propped open in front of you, wearing nothing but a powder-blue set.
“Oh—“ Your eyes had gone all wide and surprised, too shocked to move, just like him.
The only thing that reminded him that he even had the option to move was the sound of his son running up the stairs to hurry this process along. He had slammed the door shut, blushing furiously, and turned to face his eldest.
“Found it, dad! It was in my backpack.” Grinning, he had held up the bottle of sunscreen and Bradley had just been forced to continue with his afternoon like he hadn’t seen anything at all.
When he finally peels his eyes away from the line of drying clothes outside, his gaze lands on the basket of dried and folded laundry sitting on his kitchen counter ready to be put away. Sitting right on top, is a glossy looking pair of blue panties that match the bra on the line.
Bradley’s already been kicking himself for his behavior since you got here. It’s downright shameful, the things he lets himself think about you. You’re half his age, first off. Second -- he’s your boss. You live in his house. His kids think you’re their best friend.
They think you’re just here because you love hanging out with them so much, not because their mommy and daddy couldn’t get along for the life of them and daddy works too much.
His mouth waters. Staring at some blue lace in a laundry hamper and his mouth’s practically watering. He’s pathetic. His guy friends keep telling him he needs to get back in the game, start moving on — he hadn’t been so sure. But then, he’s never almost popped a hard-on over a thong in a pile before.
He can picture you so perfectly in them. Your round ass barely covered by the material, legs kicked up behind you and your ankles crossed. When he closes his eyes, he can picture you facing the other way. Your face toward the headboard, your ass right in front of him.
His slacks grow tighter as his neglected cock stirs to life. It occurs to him that he can’t remember the last time he jerked off. Maybe sometime before his middle kid got the flu? — Around a month ago, maybe. His nights since then had been primarily spent clearing up puke.
The sad part is, the thought only tends to occur to him when he’s at work. Home is always far too hectic. For a while now, he’s been stuck working late into the night with a boner while he’s flicking through candidate paperwork and flight logs.
Well, he’s thinking about it now, and he’s got the place all to himself. No locking himself in the bathroom and letting the shower run, trying to think of anything but the growing list of chores he has to do to keep this house functioning.
He swallows thickly.
He’ll tell the guys that they’re right. He needs to get back into the game; get his head on right, stop pining over his nanny. Tomorrow. For now, he lifts his hand and takes the underwear, smoothing the sheer mesh between his index and thumb. Closing his eyes, he hopes that you won’t notice they’re gone before he can return them.
He twists the cap off of an ice cold beer, leaves his boots neatly by the door and walks calmly upstairs. From there, he clicks his bedroom door shut and steadily takes himself out of his uniform, dropping it into his laundry hamper.
Finally, he settles down against his headboard with his phone in his hand and your panties in his lap.
Porn will make this better. It’s less weird if he’s not necessarily picturing your face. It’s not — but he might have a better chance at looking you in the eye later if he tells himself that.
Not that any of this feels exactly regular.
He inhales and shifts, and scrolls. Birds are still tweeting outside, singing early afternoon songs. His teeth nip at the inside of his cheek as he scrolls aimlessly until he finds a thumbnail that looks halfway doable.
All alone, the house feels especially quiet when the first moan spills from the speakers. He flinches at the sound and scrambles for the volume button, then hesitates. He doesn’t have to be quiet. He doesn’t even have to be ashamed. Shit, it’s a little late for that.
His brows knit together a bit, cocking his head as he examines the babbling girl on the phone screen. His hand stirs to life from where it had gone limp on his thigh, finding his cock through the grey fabric of his boxers. With one last cautious glance to his closed bedroom door, the silence beyond it confirms to him that he’s okay.
Wetting his lips with his tongue, he strokes himself over the material. The video isn’t particularly interesting, not when Bradley’s head can fill itself with far more interesting material at whim. His mind starts to wander back to that dream he’d had of you in the nurses outfit— that one had hit him hard, literally. He could barely look in your direction without getting hard for two days.
Soon enough, he’s hard and straining against the briefs. But that’s thinking about you, and that’s not allowed. He shifts restlessly and goes back to scrolling, palming himself absently. Finally, he comes across a video that sparks something. The thumbnail is of a girl with swollen lips and a cock in her mouth. It’ll do.
There we go. He huffs, that red-hot desperate feeling spreading down his neck and covering his shoulders. Making like it’s going to swallow him whole. Bradley lifts his hips to shuck down his boxers, tucking the waistband under his balls, still prepared for a hasty recovery at the sound of the garage door opening or something. He glances down at himself, remembering the days his thighs were narrower and more taut and he wasn’t noticing grey in his pubes.
If he wanted this done quick and fast, he’d spit hard into the centre of his palm and get to work. It’s been a long time since it hasn’t had to be quick. He thinks he has— he turns a bit and pulls open the drawer of his bedside table, rummaging blindly at the back until he comes up with what he’s looking for — lube. It’s practically full, not like he has been using it much.
A drop in the middle of his hand is enough, he figures. Turning his attention back to this new video, he settles, cupping the weight of his shaft in the palm of his hand. He gives it one slow pump, following the length, coating himself a bit. Real slow, his eyes study the screen, working the lubricant against his skin.
The actress bobs her mouth around the on-screen cock enthusiastically, moaning around him, raking her fingertips along his thighs. He locks his fist around himself, warm and tight, wet. It’s not a mouth but it’s the closest he has felt in a long time. If he closes his eyes, it could be your mouth.
You’d take him slowly, at first, ease him into it with that taunting nature you’ve let him glimpse at. He wouldn’t close his eyes; wouldn’t take ‘em off you. His hand steadies into a lazy rhythm, picturing the way you’d look up at him through your lashes.
The way you’d suck, and flick your tongue across his swollen tip. He shivers as he swipes his thumb through the precum beading there, stroking it all the way back down, stuck on imagining what it would feel like with your saliva joining the mix.
A pleased, feminine hum of approval comes from his phone and Bradley’s body responds just as eagerly, his hips twitching into the thrust of his palm. Sweat beads at his forehead as he slows to the point of almost stopping, dragging this out — making a point of exploiting his time alone.
He blinks hazily and finds a glimpse of blue, remembering suddenly the souvenir he had taken. The pitiful scrap of fabric he’s so wound up over sits against his thigh, looking suddenly small in comparison to his cock. He lets himself go and grabs hold of the fabric firmly, balling it tightly in his fist.
The soft lace bristles at his palm. Freshly laundered, they don’t smell of anything but detergent. It plays to the weaker side of him, gnawing at him, leaving him desperate to have something beyond what’s in his head. To know your smell, your tastes, your sounds. He shudders as he wraps a hand snugly around himself once more, this time, with an added layer of lace and soft mesh.
His head falls backwards, mouth hanging. Like this, it’s even easier to pretend. The image of you straddling his thighs, rocking your pussy against him while wearing nothing but these has him finally relaxed. Zen, even. A groan dies in his through, coming out more as a deep and baited sigh. He lift his hips, fucking into his fabric tangled fist.
Sometime between picking up your panties and now, the video has moved on without him, the blowjob forgotten. If he was to open his eyes, he would find that she’s on her back, being fucked into a mattress. He doesn’t need to. Stars burst behind his eyelids as he steadies up to the rhythm of her moans, skin hitting skin.
You’ve been living here four months now and you haven’t stayed out once. He wonders if you’re as wound up as he is. If you’ve thought about him the way he thinks of you. How downright desperate you’d sound moaning against his pillows while he finally gets to feel you. His left hand jumps, grabbing a firm fistful of the sheets beside him.
The shame he feels has been checked at the door, he lets himself think that you might have looked at him, that you might want him. He chases the feeling, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. Pumping the blue mesh around his cock, imagining you rocking yourself on him. Something gentler, more spry. It feels good. You’d feel good.
His imagination is better than he gave himself credit for.
His wrist twitches and he slows, feeling his thighs tighten as his heels press into his mattress for leverage. He chokes out a sound that he won’t admit is closer to a whimper than anything else, panting hard as he lets the rush ebb a bit. Pursing his lips, he draws out a slow exhale.
His mouth hangs open, eyes dipping to watch himself loosen up with the material, finding himself with just his bare palm once again. He takes the blue fabric in his left, opening it up and examining the dampened marks of his precum and the lube.
Just like that, he’s back in the guest room — your room — and you’re wearing that blue set. It’s dampened like this, but not because he has made a mess of it, not yet. Because you have. You’re soaking through it, looking up at him with that awe-struck look on your face. Your mouth open wide but this time there’s no red popsicle.
“Fuck.”
“Shit.” You whisper, catching the diaper bag that had almost fallen from your shoulder as you cradle the sleeping infant against your chest. Quiet as a mouse, you click open the front door and toe off your shoes.
She’s dead-weight in your arms, probably drooling on your shoulder. Her two older siblings will be causing all kinds of mischief and consuming sugar in all of its forms at their cousin’s birthday party for the next three hours. Given that the party lines up almost exactly with the fifteen-month-old’s nap routine, you figured you would take her home to rest so that you could get around to putting away that laundry you had started.
You’ve got a thousand things on your mind. A million things to do before Bradley gets home that evening. Truthfully, you’re a thousand miles away as you stroll upstairs and walk to the far end of the hall to the nursery. You lay her down and adjust the baby monitor, setting up her white noise machine routinely.
Her bedroom door clicks shut behind you and you take a moment to consider your priorities. Laundry takes precedence, even though you want so desperately to crawl into bed and sleep for an hour. You huff, groaning to yourself as you walk back downstairs to find the basket you had abandoned.
As you round the stairs and walk through the hallway, a choked sound spills from under the wood of Bradley’s door, something deep and breathless. Already halfway to the kitchen, you don’t hear a thing.
The video stopped a while ago but Bradley had stopped watching it even earlier. His head is thrown back and his lips are parted, his features creased in concentration as he chases his high. He thrusts into his fist, white-knuckling your panties with his free hand, his heart thundering in his chest. “God, fuck.”
He doesn’t have a clue that he isn’t alone anymore. He didn’t hear the minivan, he didn’t hear the front door. He doesn’t hear you rush back up the stairs with the hamper hiked against your hip.
He walked in on you. He stopped, and he stared. You were interrupted, so you can’t blame him for slamming the door shut. He’d missed, or ignored the signals since. The looks, the touches, staying up with him until your eyelids are so heavy that they’re barely open because he’s kind of an insomniac. Nothing. You’ve been beyond curious, desperate to know if he has been blowing you off on purpose or if he’s just clueless.
Clueless yourself, armed to put away freshly folded t-shirts, you grab the door handle and push it open. He works late, always. He’s rarely home before bedtime on work days. He told you this morning that he’d try not to wake you when he came in. And yet — there he is.
You get a glimpse of him before he registers the click of the door, before he spots you. Brows furrowed, eyes screwed shut, his curls dampened and hugging his forehead. Sunlight catches on the beads of sweat as they trail his glistening middle, spilling across his strong, softened middle. Broad shoulders flexed, the veins in his right arm straining through the skin, fucking his palm.
He reacts quickly, but there’s little that can be done. His eyes spring open and his hand releases himself, his body flushing a deeper shade of red at once. Thighs spread, he doesn’t have much time to cover himself before the door whips shut again.
You press your back to the door, staring at the ceiling. On either sides of it, you each have a moment of silent consideration.
“… are you okay?” He asks weakly.
He gets a soft squeak of acknowledgement as an answer and starts to wonder how you’ll ever be able to talk to him again. God, he hopes you don’t quit. The kids love you, and you’re incredible, you make his life liveable. His mind races, trying to come up with some kind of way to fix what you just saw. Everyone masturbates, it’s normal, it’s healthy—
“Was— Was that my underwear?”
Shit, Bradley thinks, he’s done for. There’s no coming back from this. You’re going to tell every nanny in the state that he’s a creep and work is going to eat him alive while he tries to juggle three kids alone. He curses breathlessly, fixing his underwear to cover himself and pushing himself out of bed.
He’s stuck for a second, considering if it would be better to give you time or to go after you. His eyes widen as the door clicks again, and pushes slowly open.
Your eyes rake over him, standing tall at the foot of his bed in nothing but his boxer-briefs. Still, regrettably, balled into his left hand, is your underwear. Powder-blue. He follows your gaze and looks down at the fabric, cursing his own stupidity, wondering if it’s too late to drop them.
You wet your lips with your tongue as your gaze flickers across. He closes his eyes and wills it to go away — he had just been so close, so caught up in it. It’s still rock hard, straining against the grey fabric, dampened at the tip with a spot of precum.
All of those signals and efforts come to a head. After four months of pining, you can’t just wander downstairs like this never happened. Laundry can wait. “You want a hand?”
…
tags: @royal-sunflower @redbarn1995 @atarmychick007 @jessicab1991 @seitmai @bellaireland1981 @roosterbruiser @tenderly-hopeful-collection @bradshawsbaddie @tgmavericklover @cevansbaby-dove @lyn-js @mynameismckenziemae @perpetuelledaydreaming @diorrfairy @sparklehippie17 @heatherbabees @prettiewittie @forgiveliv @oleksiak-pettersson @illegalxhood @fantasticpeacestarfish @rockstxr-x @d0main-expansion @diorsmores @mydarlingrose @sticksticklettuxe @alrightyyaphrodite @bowchickawowowww @aquafairy777 @eternallyvenus @maxwell-era @devil-angel-winchester @roosterishot @rosiahills22 @literally-iconic @brinaaa10 @foggyturtleknightangel @a-serene-place-to-be @aragorn-02 @sunflowercharlie13
If your name is here but isn’t tagged, it may be your settings that won’t allow me to tag you fully!
#bradley bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw#miles teller#bradley bradshaw smut#rooster bradshaw imagine#rooster x you#dilf Bradley#bradley x the nanny#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley rooster Bradshaw smut#bradley rooster bradshaw fic#top gun: maverick smut
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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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Easy Like Sunday Morning - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader
summary: Lazy Sunday mornings are few and far between for you and Bradley. When they do happen, you make the best of them.
pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x reader
warnings/content: smut, unprotected p in v (or at least, no protection mentioned), dirty talk, praise kink, Bradley worshipping you. Sort of CNC (both parties are awake though when the actual act occurs?)
word count: 1.5k
The morning sun peeked through the curtains over the large window in your bedroom. You yawned and stretched, a much needed gesture after a solid eight hours of fighting Bradley for the covers throughout the night. Beside you, he lay in bed, still snoring peacefully - you were convinced at this point an atom bomb could probably detonate beside his eardrum and he still wouldn’t stir. His tanned arm rested just over the covers, his hand loosely gripping the fabric as he slept. He turned onto his side, causing the blanket to drop slightly, exposing a landscape of golden sunkissed skin dotted with freckles across his shoulders and upper back. Bradley would never admit to it, but he’d been hitting the gym harder lately, and it was starting to show more so as the muscles in his back tensed and flexed as he got comfortable.
Bradley had always been a good looking man. You swore that from the moment you first saw him - dressed in his khaki uniform walking down the streets in Coronado as he and a couple of friends decided to grab lunch off base that day after a briefing. You’d been out for lunch with one of your friends, and Bradley caught your eye from a mile away. Tall, dark, broad-shouldered and handsome - he was perfectly your type. As luck would have it, it turned out that he’d had his eye on you at the same time. Before leaving that afternoon, he’d stopped by the table where you were dining and flashed this beautifully crooked smile at you, the kind that made you just absolutely melt on the spot.
“Sorry for interrupting your lunch, but I couldn’t walk away without telling you how beautiful you are.”
His deep voice sent a shiver down your spine when he spoke, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as your brain processed what he’d said. He laughed when you told him he was sweet, his cheeks becoming rosy as you teased him, and that was that - within a couple of days, he was calling you for a date, and now, two years later, he was sound asleep in bed beside you, in the house you two had purchased together a few short months ago.
You gently placed a kiss to his shoulder blade as you reminisced to yourself about meeting Bradley for the first time, causing him to murmur something softly, eyelids fluttering for a moment before remaining shut. After a few minutes, Bradley flipped back to lay on his back, grumbling quietly as he settled himself back into his rest. His curls were tousled messily from his tossing and turning, something that Bradley would quickly tame the moment he woke up with some hair styling products he had stashed away, specifically for making sure his hair remained in Navy regulation at every moment.
You began to kiss his shoulder again, gently peppering his soft skin with tender kisses as he slept, showering him with affection. Bradley’s eyes fluttered again, a soft smirk forming on his lips as he glanced down at you, your trail of kisses now heading further towards his chest. He hummed softly and shut his eyes again, enjoying your display of tenderness towards him on this lazy morning.
As you trailed your mouth down his body, you peeled back the blankets gently - trying your best not to wake him abruptly. You danced your fingers down his chest to his abdomen, your lips following suit. Once you reached the waistband of his boxer briefs, you delicately placed another kiss to the light trail of hair that extended from his naval to his waistline before sitting yourself upright. Carefully, you straddled his waist, taking care to seat yourself gently on his abdomen. You ducked your head down to begin kissing at his ear, which prompted a soft groan from Bradley.
“Mornin’, honey,” he said sleepily as he blinked his bleary brown eyes a few times in an effort to focus them on you.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” you hummed, your lips leaving a trail of warm, open-mouthed kisses along his neck, something Bradley could never resist.
“Mhmm,” Bradley shook his head, a strained chuckle falling from his lips as he shifted underneath you in the bed. “Honey, you’re making it really, really hard for me to not just flip you over and-”
You raised a challenging eyebrow as you hovered yourself over top of his lap, settling down on the tenting fabric of his boxers. Grinding yourself against him, Bradley let out a deep grunt, shaking his head as he reached out and grabbed at your hips. He held you firmly in place, guiding your as you moved back and forth, rubbing yourself over top of his boxers.
Bradley gazed up at you with lust-filled eyes as he pushed you back onto his thighs for a moment, reaching a hand down to shove the restricting fabric back off his waist. Your fingers teased and taunted him as you slowly pulled back his boxers, his hardening cock springing forwards as you freed it. Taking his length in your hand, you stroked it gently, your thumb tracing soft, delicate circles around the tip.
“Honey, you’re killing me here,” Bradley rasped, watching you carefully as you continued to toy with him, pumping your hand along his shaft with just enough pressure to drive him crazy.
“Tell me what you want me to do, Roo,” you purred, using his callsign as a means to tease him.
“Fuck,” he panted, shaking his head for a minute to try and compose himself, “I need you to ride me, pretty girl. Think you’re up for it?”
“I think I can handle it.”
You lifted the hem of Bradley’s t-shirt that you’d slept in up, just enough to keep it out of the way as you positioned yourself over top of him. You slid down on to him with a soft whine, tilting your head to the side as you looked down at him, pressing your palms flat against his chest to steady yourself.
“Fuck, that’s it, honey. Lookin’ so pretty bouncing up and down on my cock,” Bradley grunted, his large hands reaching for any part of you he could get a grip on, settling for your thighs.
You bobbed yourself up and down on him with ease, working yourself into a rhythm as you rode Bradley. His fingertips dug into the flesh of your thigh, causing you to whine as you sped up your movements. Bradley’s hands snuck their way up the bottom of your shirt, gliding their way against your sensitive skin before cupping your breasts. He gave them a playful squeeze before sliding them back down to your waist, guiding you up and down on him as he felt your walls beginning to clench around his cock.
“S-so close, Bradley,” you whined, throwing your head back before darting your eyes down to meet his steely gaze.
“That’s it, pretty girl. Let it go for me, honey, I’ve got ya.” he coached, his hands tightening their grip on your hips.
You gasped as you felt Bradley switch his hand placement, one of his hands drifting to your abdomen. He reached down and pressed his fingertip into your clit, massaging it in circles as you rode him. Your orgasm hit you almost immediately after he made contact with your sensitive nub, a wicked grin formed on Bradley’s lips as he watched your thighs shake and the movement of your hips become less precise as you fell apart on him.
Bradley snapped his hips forwards into you, thrusting hard and deep into your throbbing cunt. He desperately pounded into you, his breath hitching in his throat as he brought himself close to the edge. Your name fell from his lips like a sacred prayer, repeating it over and over as his voice rasped - as if there was nothing else on his mind than you.
“Fuck, so good, honey, you feel so fucking good. You’re so good to me, baby girl.” he praised, worshipping you as he came down from his climax.
Breathlessly, you leaned down, pressing your lips to his in a feverish, passionate kiss. Your teeth grazed at his plump bottom lip gently as you pulled your head back, a grin forming on your features as you looked down at him.
“That’s one way to wake me up,” he laughed, shaking his head before gazing up at you with pure adoration in his eyes.
“Come on,” you grinned, tapping his thigh as you dismounted from his waist, “I’m gonna go take a shower, you coming with me, Roo?”
Bradley grinned, raising his dark eyebrow at you as he watched you walk towards the bedroom door.
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw smut#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw smut#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw x y/n#bradley rooster bradshaw x y/n#rooster bradshaw#rooster bradshaw smut#rooster bradshaw x reader#rooster bradshaw x you#rooster bradshaw x y/n#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley rooster bradshaw fic#rooster bradshaw fic
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Baby Come Close | college!Bradley Bradshaw x virgin!Reader |
turn the lights down low, baby come close
put your trust in me, let this love be
SUMMARY: On the last night of spring break of junior year at UVA, you decided that this was the perfect time to lose your virginity to none other than Bradley Bradshaw.
WORD COUNT: ~4.9k
WARNINGS: THIS BLOG IS 18+ SO JUST ASSUME ANYTHING GOES. MINORS DNI. this is just pure smut. barely a plot. p in v. corruption kink if you squint. praise kink if you squint more. fluff. swears. no use of y/n.
A/N: this is my first time writing publicly, especially smut, in a very long time, and my first fic for TGM! I’m so nervous to post this, please be gentle :')
It was the last day of spring break, and the college town of Charlottesville, Virginia was a bit quieter than usual, due to most of its population being who knows where doing who knows what with their time off. Your parents were out of town in Boston, but you much rather would have spent time with Bradley at his apartment than go back to your empty childhood home anyway, exchanging pleasantries with former high school classmates who you would undoubtedly run into in public. You and Bradley, instead, decided that spring break would be much better spent in the privacy of his empty dwelling, partaking in day trips to Virginia Beach in his Bronco and a staycation of movie-watching-turned-heated-groping sessions… And maybe even more if you decided to finally take it there. What better time than tonight, before the first day of the final stretch of junior year at the University of Virginia?
“What did he say?” Bradley whispered, snapping you out of your thoughts. Usually, the two of you would try to watch the movie until around the thirty-minute mark, and then one wandering hand or a lingering kiss later and it would be completely ignored. For you, however, tonight’s movie was long forgotten the moment he had turned it on.
“Hm? Oh, I didn’t hear him. Sorry…” You smiled at him sheepishly.
“You good, angel?” He cocked his eyebrow as he turned to face you. The warm amber of his irises bore into your face with adoration and slight concern. “You’re not thinking about breaking up with me, are you?” He feigned worry, clutching over his heart. You swatted his arm playfully with an eye roll.
“I’m just a little thirsty… Do you want anything from the kitchen?” You offered, feeling a little silly as he simultaneously took a swig from his bottle of beer. He pretended to think for a moment.
“Yeah, get me a glass of you.” He grinned, leaning down to catch your lips in his, stifling your giggle as you cringed with an exaggerated scoff at his cheesy remark. Bradley Bradshaw, dad joke supreme.
“On second thought, maybe I’ll decide to break up with you when I get back, Dadshaw.” You teased, pushing his curls from his forehead, earning you a perfect pout from his plump lips to which you gave a lingering kiss. There it was.
If you were being honest with yourself, you were growing restless with the over-the-clothes grope sessions that regularly took place the last few months. While they were exciting and enjoyable, there was a particular itch that you just couldn’t scratch, even on your own. Your thoughts would drift to him at night as you imagined what being with him would be like, and any time your unskilled fingers fumbled to bring an unfamiliar feeling to that place deep inside you, you would immediately withdraw your hand. The longer things continued on like this, the antsier you were getting and if Bradley was feeling the same way, you would have been none the wiser. He was aware of your predicament and he, ever the gentleman, always let you set the pace and never asked anything of you that you were not comfortable with. His mother raised him better than being any other way. “I promise I’m not some bible-thumping prude.” You would promise him from time to time during these exchanges. He never asked you for your reasoning, but he knew it was just a matter of trust. He would just simply smile and assure you there was no rush, that he would never pressure you to go further than you wanted.
In truth, however, the idea of being your first anything excited him. He felt a little guilty for having that thought in the first place but he couldn’t help it. Any time he tried to get any information from you about what you had done before, just out of sheer curiosity, you would quickly skirt around the subject and bring up anything else. He would never press you on the matter, but he could tell when you were hesitant and very intentional with your movements during impromptu make out sessions behind the bookshelves in the library during study breaks. But he also noticed when something changed inside of you: the time he pulled you into the office of the professor he was TA-ing for when they were out for a few days. When he decided to be spontaneous and clear the professor’s desk of clutter to push you onto the surface, you didn’t exasperatedly scold him or get flushed and embarrassed like you normally would. You simply continued on, pulling him into you, your kisses and touches… hungrier, but he continued to let you set the pace, and while it didn’t go much further, he could feel the desperation growing there with you. That was a week ago, right before midterms, and neither of you had talked about it since.
He tilted his head at you as you winked and sauntered away, making your way out of his room and down the hall toward the kitchen. After nervously gulping down half of the water in your glass in an attempt to slow your heart rate, you stepped into the bathroom off the side of the galley. You gripped either side of the sink as you bent over the counter to face yourself in the mirror, inhaling deeply before letting out a shaky breath. “You can do this. It’s not a big deal. Everyone has done it… Just not you,” you furrowed your brow at your failed pep talk. You had been in your head about this for a couple months, and especially all week as he made a habit of sweetly coaxing you into staying over every night of spring break with him to cuddle every time you would start gathering your belongings to leave. You worried that you wouldn’t be nearly as good as the other women Bradley had already been with, and you often wondered why he was even waiting around with you in the first place, especially when other girls on campus would throw themselves at him had they been given the chance. You had even brought this up to him a couple times before, how he was wasting formative college experience time with you, which was always met with, “Baby, I don’t want anyone else,” or, “Sex isn’t the only important thing in the world.” Sure, not the only thing, but surely still pretty important to someone like Bradley Bradshaw.
“No, you’re not backing out of it. Get it over with. Everything will only get easier from here on out.” You told your reflection definitively. You reached up under your skirt, hooking your panties with your thumbs before tugging them down your legs. You had hoped this bold of a move would spur you on to go through with this, either by your own actions or even by Bradley discovering you bare, as you knew he would often absentmindedly run his thumb against the underwear lines at your hip when he cuddled you. After giving yourself one last look-over in the mirror, you took a deep breath before turning off the light and exiting the bathroom.
Bradley snapped his head up when you reentered his bedroom, giving you a cheeky grin. “Are you back to break up with me, angel?” He has no idea what he’s in for tonight, you thought, but then quickly humbled yourself by the fact that, well, neither did you.You sauntered over to turn off the television with the remote before tossing it away to his textbook-ridden desk. The sudden silence and the way he was looking at you was making you lose your nerve, so you walked over to his stereo to pop one of his CDs in the player, Smokey Robinson’s Smokey, pressing the repeat button and then skipping until the player display read the number 9. Baby Come Close started softly through the speakers, and you remembered the first time he had you listen to it with him.
“This right here… is lovemaking music,” he proclaimed, wiggling his eyebrows at you, only half-joking. Your eyes widened as you playfully swatted his arm, causing him to bellow with laughter. “But make no mistake, it sounds so much better on vinyl.”
“Then why aren’t we listening to it on vinyl?” You teased, prodding his chest with your finger.
“The thought of keeping my collection here with me at school when I live with these idiots makes me shudder, honey. Get real.”
Bradley’s expression was puzzled as you crawled across the bed to straddle his lap, cupping his face and running your thumbs over his smooth skin. He beamed at you nonetheless. “What are you –” You cut him off by gently tilting his chin upward and placing a slow, sensual kiss on his lips. Your lips moved perfectly in sync as he sat up a little straighter, placing his hands on your hips. You shakily reached for one of his hands before setting your discarded lace panties in his palm. He pulled away to look at the delicate fabric and blinked a few times before slowly sliding his other hand under your skirt to grip your bare behind. He softly drew a circle on the skin there with his thumb. His touch felt like static and left goosebumps in its wake, making you shiver. It suddenly clicked in Bradley’s mind as he remembered what he told you about this song, it made his chest constrict. You nervously bit your lip as you watched him short circuit in real time. Bradley took pause as he met your eyes, full of both lust and uncertainty. “Are you saying…”
“I’ve been wondering what it feels like, how you feel, for a while,” you admitted softly, fidgeting with the hem of your skirt. Bradley swallowed hard, his heartbeat in his ears as he hung on every word you said. Your gaze shifted to focus on your hands as you nervously stated, “I don’t want to wait any longer, Bradley. I think I’m ready.” Your eyes fluttered closed as he hesitantly caught your lips again. He grinned into the kiss and pushed your shirt up slightly to rub his calloused thumbs along the soft skin of your waist. You sighed into his mouth as your lips parted, which Bradley took advantage of by sliding his tongue to massage against yours in your mouth.
“We’ll take it slow. I’ll take care of you,” He promised after a long moment with a heavy breath, slowly inching a hand further up your tee to palm your breast and pinching your nipple through your bra, enough for your breath to catch in your throat. “Is this okay?” His eyes snapped to yours expectantly, and he smiled softly when you nodded. Bradley pulled your shirt upward over your head and tossed the material to the floor. He took a moment to marvel at the lacey red bra that matched the underwear in his hand before attaching his lips to your neck and flinging your panties aside. You sighed, bringing your arms up loosely around the back of his neck to run your fingers through the curls at his nape. He raised a hand to cradle your jaw, his thumb gently nudging it to angle your chin to give him more access, and his other expertly sliding up your back to unhook your bra with ease. You sighed in relief as the restrictive material fell down your arms and tried to fight the bashful feeling that washed over you. You felt your face flush as you realized Bradley was the first person to see you this way, all hot and flushed on top of him. He blinked as he took in the sight of your bare chest. “Absolutely perfect, angel.”
You experimentally ground your hips down onto his and the friction of his denim jeans against your bare core made you whimper. You could feel his hard cock through the stiff material separating you, and you desperately wanted more. Your shaky hands fumbled with the button of his pants as you kissed down his jaw and along his neck, placing hot, lingering kisses on the somewhat-fresh scars that stretched across his skin. He chuckled softly, placing his hands over yours to steady them as he guided the button out of the loop.
“Relax, baby. We can take it nice and slow,” Bradley reassured you before lifting you from him to shimmy out of his jeans. But before you could touch him again, he wrapped his arms around your waist and flipped you over, gently placing you underneath him. He rubbed your sides as he shifted his weight on top of you, pushing you into the plush of his mattress. He supported himself on his forearm as mouth latched onto your right nipple, his free hand massaging your other breast. You moaned softly, you felt him smile against your soft skin. Bradley’s tongue swirled around the bud, and he released it with a pop before moving to the left one. When you arched your back, instinctively pushing up against his mouth, he groaned, His hand wandered to your thighs, rubbing them each for a while before slipping between them when you opened them slightly. He nudged your thigh to open wider with his knee. “Am I going too fast?” He asked, stopping his mouth on your skin to look up at you. You shook your head with a nervous smile and he placed a kiss on your sternum. “Tell me what you like.”
“I — I don’t know.” He furrowed his eyebrows at this confession.
“Show me how you do it when you touch yourself,” He requested, and stopped his movements when you opened your mouth to speak… and then closed it. “You’ve never touched yourself?”
“I have! Well, kind of. I either got bored, or whenever I felt anything building I just… stopped.”
“So… You’ve never came before, even on your own?” He prodded delicately, and you sheepishly shook your head. Bradley suppressed the moan at the back of his throat. He wet his lips with his tongue. “Oh, honey. I can’t believe you’re this innocent,” he said more to himself than to you, which made you feel a bit self-conscious. He noticed you tense. “No, baby, no, that isn’t what I mean. You’ve just been so… I never would have guessed.”
“I would understand if you didn’t want to keep going.” You offered, shifting uncomfortably. Bradley’s expression turned incredulous as he rapidly shook his head.
“No way is that deterring me from you. How about we find out what feels good together, okay?” You nodded and let out a shaky breath as his middle finger slowly slid through your slick and ghosted over your clit. An unexpected sound squeaked from your chest and you flushed when he met your eyes. “Soaked already. Is this all for me?” He shot you a lopsided grin, and smirked when you whimpered and nodded. You bucked your hips against his hand, a silent plea for any type of friction, and he obliged by rubbing your bundle of nerves in slow circles. This felt so much beyond anything you could have possibly done on your own, the unanticipated movements of his touches. You felt like your body was on fire.
“Bradley,” you pleaded, your legs starting to scramble. He held your hips down with one hand and slid his middle finger into you with the other, wordlessly obliging, slowly pumping it a few times before curling it upward and hitting a spot that had you arching your back and letting out a sharp gasp. “Oh!”
“How’s that?” He asked smugly, chuckling slightly as you could do nothing but dumbly nod and blink up at him, not exactly answering his question but it was definitely an answer all the same. He watches you with an amused grin as he repeated the motion with his skilled digit, eliciting a strangled moan from somewhere deep in your sternum.
The rumors you always heard about him before you got together were true, he certainly had magic fingers. The sounds he was pulling for you made him thank the high heavens that he had ears, and that his roommates had left town for the week. He kissed down your stomach and your breath hitched as he continued down, down, down. Bradley raised his eyes to meet yours, immediately softening at your slightly panicked expression. “May I?”
“I… Yes.”
“If you don’t like it, we can move on,” He beamed his reassurance at you earnestly. “But I promise I’m going to do everything I can to make you feel so good, baby.” He teasingly kissed along the outside of your thighs, chuckling when you squirmed, desperate for any kind of contact. Suddenly, feeling his hot breath against your core, he placed a slow, delicate kiss against you before spreading you with his fingers, then licking a thick stripe upward.
“Oh, my fucking –” Bradley attached his lips to your clit, alternating between licking and sucking. You could feel yourself getting impossibly wetter. His tongue dipped down to your weeping hole, teasingly plunging into you every so often. You didn’t know what to do with your hands as they scrambled to find purchase in the sheets. He guided one of your hands to his hair, your other following suit, and when your fingers tangled into his tresses, he groaned at the tug.
“You taste so good, honey,” Bradley breathed, and his voice was so raspy and full of lust it caused you to buck your hips slightly against his mouth. The comment made your cheeks heat up, almost embarrassed. He hummed against you, the vibrations adding to the immense pleasure he was already giving you. He pulled his mouth away and brought up two digits two your wetness, slowly teasing your entrance, making you whimper pathetically. “I love the little sounds that you make when I’m teasing you.” It was unlike anything you had ever experienced before. He pushed his fingers into you slowly, allowing you time to adjust to the slightly uncomfortable stretch, before curling upward against your walls and moving them into you at a steady pace. You felt that unfamiliar feeling start to rise in your stomach and your legs began to shake.
“Bradley – I can’t – I think I’m gonna –”
“Come for me, baby,” He growled against you, harshly sucking your clit as his fingers sped up a bit. You cried out in complete ecstasy as you came undone under him, tugging his face impossibly closer into your core. He rutted his hips into the mattress as he watched you, desperate for friction, and continued to work you through it. You would have felt embarrassed about the way you convulsed if you hadn’t heard through the cotton filling your head, “Holy shit, you’re so fucking hot.” As you came down from your high, you hissed from the overstimulation as he kept at you. You pushed his head back involuntarily and he chuckled before kissing the inside of your thigh apologetically. You tried to take a moment to catch your breath as he continued to kiss your thighs and around your heat. “Was that alright?”
You heaved a laugh at the question, you felt him grinning against your belly. “Something like that,” you quipped, meeting his eyes. He looked so in love, just watching your already fucked out expression as you tried to find your way back down to Earth. You ran your fingers through his hair, he pressed his cheek into your thigh. “I want that all the time.”
“I am so, so happy to oblige.” He suggested, experimentally going back down to kitten lick at your soaked cunt. You giggled, shaking your head.
“I wanna touch you too,” you stated breathlessly. Bradley cocked an eyebrow at you as you sat up and pushed him to lay backward to sit between his knees, reattaching your lips to his collarbone and eagerly kissing down his chest and abdomen. He chuckled, bringing a hand up to gently hold your hair out of your face. His finger lovingly swept a circle over your cheek. You boldly and playfully licked a thick stripe up his torso, causing a strained groan to bubble from his throat, before returning nip down to the waistband of his boxers. Your sudden confidence had quickly dissipated as you looked up at him with wide eyes. This was the first time you’d seen him this way, in this position. Bradley was so beautiful. He had been hitting the gym pretty hard in preparation for his hopeful, second-round acceptance into flight school come graduation next year and it was definitely paying off, though you admit you still liked it when he was a bit softer in the middle. He gave you an encouraging grin as you began to pull the material downward, his cock sprung free and slapped up against his abdomen. You blinked, dumbfounded, as you took in the sight of him. “I…”
“You don’t have to do anything.” He stated firmly with a soft smile, bringing a hand to brush the hair from your face once more. You furrowed your brows and shook your head.
“Teach me?” You gazed at him expectantly. “Show me how to touch you. Teach me how to make you feel good, too.” Fuck. He nodded, swallowing hard. He took your hand and brought it to his lips for a quick kiss before guiding it down to secure gently around his length. He tightened his hand over yours slightly, signaling you to tighten your grip a little. Taking his cock in your hand, you hesitantly pumped it a few times before surprising the both of you by boldly licking the precum from his tip. It was surprisingly pleasant but maybe it was because a soft, strangled moan bubbled from Bradley’s lips, which was enough to make you squeeze your thighs together. You wanted to do everything you could to hear that sound again. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, humming in approval as you hesitantly took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his length until it hit the back of your throat. You gagged but recovered smoothly as he guided you to bob your head. You hollowed your cheeks as you sucked on his length and pumped what you couldn’t fit with your hand, just like you saw in the videos you sometimes watched in preparation for this moment.
“Are you sure this is your first time?” Bradley chuckled and sighed as his head fell back against the headboard. You couldn’t keep the cocky grin off your face as you repeated your motions. You figured he was exaggerating your skill for your benefit, but you didn’t care. The sounds leaving him were deliciously filthy, reassuring you that you were doing all the right things. “That’s it baby, just like that. So fucking good for me,” His hand gripped a fistful of your hair as he thrusted his hips toward your face slightly. You gagged but recovered immediately, though you could feel your embarrassment flushing your cheeks. “Shit, sorry, is that okay?” You hummed in response, the vibrations adding to Bradley’s pleasure so much so that he huffed out a string of curses. You could feel your wetness begin to drip down the side of your thigh, and you were getting a little antsy.
“Bradley…” You whined as you pulled back for air. Your body stiffened as nerves consumed you once more. “I want… I need…”
“What do you need, honey?” He questioned gently, pulling you up to him to catch your lips. He expertly flipped you back onto your back, slotting his body between your legs. You could feel him over your heat, causing you to experimentally buck your hips upward to grind against him. “Tell me what you need.” Bradley hissed as you whimpered. He fumbled to pull a condom from the box of his bedside drawer, planting wet kisses on your outstretched arm on his way back to you.
“Please fuck me,” you requested boldly. The filthy words from your lips made him throw his head back with a groan. “Bradley, please.” He tore the foil packet open with his teeth and pumped himself a few times before rolling the condom down onto his length. He kissed up your neck back to your lips as he positioned himself at your entrance, running the head of his cock through your slick folds.
“Let me know if you want me to stop, okay?” He kissed you sweetly. You smiled at him with a hesitant nod. You figured you would feel a lot more embarrassed than you did, feeling pathetically naive and innocent to be experiencing this for the first time at your age, but he never put the thought that he felt that way in your mind. Bradley was never condescending, he never talked down to you or made you feel like something too pure or too delicate to touch. He slowly pushed his tip into you, causing your eyes to water and screw shut. Your fingernails dug into his shoulders and your body went rigid.
“Angel, I need you to relax your muscles. I don’t want it to hurt,” He bit back a moan as he continued to fill you once you relaxed. “Do you want to stop?”
“No.” You stated firmly. It didn’t hurt as bad as you were told it would, it was more uncomfortable than anything. He waited for you to adjust to him, idly planting wet kisses over the length of your neck and collarbone as he whispered sweet praises in your ear.
“You’re doing so good, baby,” Bradley cooed. “You’re taking me so well,” After several minutes, you shifted your hips slightly in attempts to ease the discomfort, and… Oh. You moaned slightly at the new electricity inducing feeling that coursed through your body. Bradley picked up his head to reattach his lips to yours and pulled his hips back slightly before slowly thrusting back into you. You gasped, your eyes fluttering open to meet his. His dilated pupils fixated on your own as he found his rhythm, pushing deeper into you while increasing his pace. His sweet moans were music to your ears, and yours to his. You were a whimpering mess underneath him, grabbing fistfuls of sheets as he ran a hand down your thigh to wrap your leg around his waist. “You’re so tight.” A deep-seated groan emitted from the back of his throat as his thrusts became sloppy, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips. He took one of your hands in his, interlocking your fingers and bringing them to rest on the mattress above your head.
“You feel so…” You moaned before your lips latched onto his neck. “Fuck.”
“I love listening to you,” He admitted blissfully. “I never could have imagined the sweet noises you make.” You whimpered at his words. He hastily snaked a hand down between the two of you and started rubbing tight, fast circles on your clit. The added sensation with him thrusting into your dripping core at a dizzying pace, repeatedly hitting just the right spot, was almost too much but so perfect. His praises kept stoking that building fire in the pit of your belly, and watching him watch you sent you over the edge once more. Your vision went white as a string of curses fell from your mouth. Your legs began to shake and the rest of your body stiffened.
“Bradley, oh my – fuck!”
“That’s it, good girl,” He groaned at the sight of you writhing underneath him. He sucked a mark into your collarbone to contain the melodies escaping him. “Baby, I’m gonna come,” Bradley rasped as he buried his face further into your neck. You brought up your other leg to tighten them both around him, bucking your hips to meet his thrusts as he came undone on top of you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You had never seen such a beautiful sight, watching the muscles of his bicep contract as he held himself over you while he fell apart. He lazily peppered your neck with hot kisses, sucking marks into your skin, and after a few moments, he begrudgingly lifted himself off you with a huge grin plastered on his face. He would have stayed there forever if you let him. “How are you? Was that okay?” You giggled at his concern, shaking your head in disbelief.
“It was perfect,” you hummed in contentment. Definitely worth the wait, and now I know what I’ve been missing. Bradley’s phone began to ring, and when he lifted it to check the caller I.D., his smile faltered for a split second.
Mav
He hastily declined the call. Maverick was continuing to not get the hint of months’ worth of rejected calls and Bradley refused to let him ruin another perfect moment in his life right now.
“Who’s calling so late?” You joked. Fucking Maverick on his fucking Pacific Standard Time.
“Telemarketer, probably,” Bradley lied, cupping your face and kissing your lips sweetly. “What do you say we just skip the first day back tomorrow and stay in bed all day instead?” His grin was anything but angelic, borderline shit-eating, as he began to kiss his way down your neck to your chest. You erupted into giggles, pretending to push him away.
“Bradley!”
Baby Come Close was still thrumming through the speakers on repeat as you held each other, and neither of you were in any rush to end the perfect night. You both desperately wished that you could have stayed here forever.
#please be nice LOL#baby come close#top gun maverick#top gun maverick smut#top gun maverick fanfic#top gun maverick fanfiction#tgm smut#tgm fanfiction#tgm fandom#tgm fic#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw x y/n#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw headcanon#rooster smut#rooster imagine#rooster x reader#rooster fanfic#rooster#top gun rooster#rooster top gun#miles teller#my works#*#riley's writing#top gun smut#top gun x reader
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little wallflower | bradley bradshaw x hearing impaired!reader
disclaimer: hello all. i wrote this for all of my lovelies who have loss of hearing, or have any type of hearing impairment, or am hearing and want to read a cute little fic. i myself am hearing, and i took a bit of inspiration from me being bradley, seeing as i work with a wonderful person who's deaf, and they are SO helpful and encouraging in my journey to get better at signing. if there are any inaccuracies, i apologise profusely - i tried my best to research what i could. seeing as i'm not american, i am learning ssl, and hope that I got the american signs right. please tell me what you think?<3
warnings: ignorance about hearing disabilities (nothing malicious at all, just good ol' norm thinking), bob being the mvp and a sweetheart, cursing. no use of y/n.
word count: 2.5K.
description: Bradley had seen you sitting on your own many times, and was bewildered as to why no one was talking to you.
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Bradley had noticed you a few times, often sitting by yourself nursing a beverage. Sometimes you were looking at your phone, and other times you were just observing the surroundings, smiling softly at the people who milled around. Bradley had never really seen you interact with anyone at all, except for ordering beverages from Penny, and then you always showed her your phone - something that puzzled Rooster a little. Perhaps you wanted to see if she had a particular drink that wasn’t too easy to get ahold of? Either way, he was enthralled by you. The way your soft smile lit up your face, and the way you seemed to be a little bit of a wallflower intrigued him. He also found himself wondering why you were always sitting alone. He’d only seen you once with another person, a friend who was gesticulating as you laughed - it was a very pretty sound, he decided, before he was ripped away by Payback to play pool.
Bradley always walked into the Hard Deck thinking that this would be the night he’d go over and talk to you - ask what you were drinking, where you were from, if you’d like to go out with him… but every time he chickened out, afraid that such a pretty person wouldn’t want a ruddy naval aviator who smelled of jet fuel and couldn’t stay in one place for too long. He kept his distance for a few weeks, stealing longing glances whenever he could.
One day, as he was sipping his beer slowly, Phoenix approached him with a roll of her eyes “When are you gonna make a move, Rooster? You’ve been staring for weeks,” she inquired, raising a brow at her friend.
“Make a move? Rooster?” Hangman smirked, letting his sentence hang in the air to rattle Rooster a little “who are we talking about?” Jake continued, his eyes scanning the filled bar. Natasha nodded her head towards you, and Hangman followed her gaze.
“Oh them? Don’t bother Rooster, they completely ignored me the other day. Wouldn’t even respond to my question,” this had Bob scoffing out an uncharacteristic laugh, that sounded somewhat like he was telling Jake that he was being an idiot. Hangman furrowed his brows, looking at Bobs’ smiling face “what’s with him?” He muttered as the WSO went up to get another bottle of water.
Rooster simply shrugged, watching you make your way over to the bar, near where Bob was stood.
“C’mon Roos, go talk to them!” Phoenix gave him a gentle push in your direction, and Bradley could feel butterflies thrash around his midsection as he cleared his throat before approaching you. You seemed to be deep in thought, waiting for Penny to help Bob with his order.
Standing next to you, Rooster looked down and smiled at you, before saying hi. You didn’t seem to notice at all, and Bradley suddenly wondered if perhaps Jake was right - you completely ignored him. Now, Rooster thought of himself as well raised - he didn’t want to touch you without your consent, but he also didn’t want to give up, even though being ignored was a pretty big sign you weren’t exactly interested.
He had to, though - he had to hear you say you weren’t interested before he gave up. So he reached out gingerly, only hesitating for a second before softly tapping your shoulder. You jumped as if you hadn’t noticed him standing there at all, and as you turned to look at him, your eyes had turned wide with surprise.
“Hi, I’m so sorry. I’m Rooster— I mean, my name’s Bradley, but uh I’m called Rooster by— uh… I was just wondering if I could buy you a drink?” He was rambling. Since when didn’t he know how to speak to a beautiful person? He could hear Bob barely containing his laughter behind him, and he had to fight the sudden urge to throw an elbow back to shut him up. You blinked, opening and closing your mouth a couple of times, with a pained expression. Damn. He’d blown it. He sighed and nodded slowly “I get it, sorry to have bothered you,” he felt dejected as he turned to leave, but stopped as he felt your hand on his wrist, and heard a sound that resembled “No”. It was soft, and little too quiet to actually make it audible in the loud, boisterous environment you were in.
He turned back, looking at you quizzically as you lifted a finger into the air - signalling him to wait as you tapped away on your phone. A frustrated noise left your throat as you scrambled to find the notes app you’d installed on your phone.
“They can’t hear you,” Bob spoke up from behind Rooster, coming to stand beside his pilot friend. Bradley looked at him, bewildered - what did that mean? Bob quickly waved a hand in front of your face, and Rooster slapped his arm - what the fuck was he doing? That was rude as hell. Bob only shook his head and laughed at Bradley’s exasperated look.
As you looked up, Bob smiled at you before signing with his hands swiftly. Rooster took in how your facial expression went from relieved to elated, smiling as you replied with your hands.
“Do you want me to translate what my idiot friend said?” Bob spoke softly as he signed, making that beautiful laugh fall from your lips again. Oh my god, Rooster thought, both he and Hangman were fucking idiots. You couldn’t hear them. He almost groaned at his ignorance.
He thought of himself as a man that was very ‘with it’. He considered himself a feminist, he thought everyone should be treated the same and that no person held any particular advantage over any other - he felt that people could believe in what they wanted and say what they wished as long as it didn’t hurt or put others at risk. But he had actually never really ransacked himself about his knowledge about hearing disabilities, which he felt slightly ashamed over now.
He watched you nod with a big grin, and he had to trust that Bob translated what he said (favourably, he hoped, perhaps Bob would take pity on him and wouldn’t translate into ASL how he’d fumbled it all). He watched you furrow your brow as Bob signed something that Bradley could only guess was “Rooster”, tapping his forehead twice with his thumb, his middle finger and pointer finger forming a V. He couldn’t be sure, but it made sense in his mind.
You locked eyes with him and his heart stuttered a bit as you smiled, repeated the sign Bob had made to his forehead and softly spoke “Rooster?” And then pointed right at him.
“They’re asking if you’re called Rooster” Bob smiled, he didn’t doubt that Bradley had surely understood, but Bob could tell that Rooster felt a little frozen under your gaze - and he figured he’d help kickstart this conversation by breaking Bradley’s little trance.
“Oh, yeah! I’m Rooster. Or Bradley.” He looked at you and then Bob before hesitantly trying to copy the sign they had made. You laughed and moved closer, adjusting his hand so it was at the correct angle before nodding at him with a big smile. Oh god, those butterflies came back with a vengeance having you standing so close to him.
“How do you sign ‘thanks’?” Rooster almost panicked, looking at Bob - was he being rude by asking Bob instead of you? Bob just smiled and put his fingertips, his palm open but not spread, to his chin before sliding it outwards ‘thank you’ he said softly. Rooster repeated the sign to your smiling face, and he felt as if he could stare at the way your eyes twinkled happily forever. It made his heart clench.
“I’m sorry that I assumed you could hear me,” Bradley said and watched as Bob made a fist, circling it in the middle of his chest before signing something else that was too fast for Bradley to differentiate. You just smiled at him and shook your head, Bradley took that to mean “don’t worry about it”, your facial expressions were so vivid and beautiful to him.
You signed rapidly to Bob for a few moments, holding your phone out briefly before you stopped. Bob smiled and turned to Rooster “They say they’re pretty good at reading lips, and that you two can use the notes app or texts if they can’t understand. You’re on your own now, pal” Bob smiled, patting Bradley’s shoulder.
“Bob, thank you so much. I had no idea you knew how to sign!” Bradley sighed, really feeling surges of gratitude to the WSO. Bob smiled before replying that his parents couldn’t hear, and he learned to sign and talk at the same time.
“That’s fascinating,” Rooster replied with a smile as you signed something to Bob that made him laugh. “What did they say?” Bradley asked eagerly, and Bob shook his head. “They said they appreciated me translating, but that they had a hard time with my accent” Bob smiled at Roosters bewildered face.
“I’ll educate you later. Have fun, man!” He simply said before retreating to the pool table. You took a hold of his hand gingerly, and Bradley felt his heartbeat pick up slightly at the feeling of your warm skin against his.
Making your way to the table you’d occupied earlier, he sat down opposite you. He felt a little out of his depth at first, talking whilst your eyes flickered between his lips and his eyes - but as he got more used to you taking a moment to write down a reply, or speaking shorter sentences in response, he felt as he would with any other person. He just wished he could sign as efficiently as Bob did, it would make everything so much easier for you. He wanted to learn how to sign so you wouldn’t have to concentrate so much on reading his lips. Why hadn’t he learned from the jump? It seemed silly now that not everyone was taught sign language in school.
You spent the night in that booth, laughing and getting to know each other, finding that you had quite a lot in common. Bradley thought you were just the sweetest, and he tried his best to not offend you or ask stupid questions - though sometimes they slipped out anyways. Like when he asked what type of music you listened to. He could kick himself. He actually apologized profusely before he saw you shake your head before typing on your phone.
“I hear a little bit. They call my impairment ‘severe’, but I can still hear some loud noises, and I love music that has a lot of bass in it - I love the thrum of the melody it gives” you smiled kindly at him, and he smiled back, grateful that you didn’t seem to mind explaining the most obvious things to him.
“It’s okay to ask about, you know? I don’t mind if there’s anything else you’re curious about,” you’d typed in after a beat, showing him the screen. He read the words quickly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, speaking slowly he asked how it was that you spoke - could you hear yourself? He felt stupid asking, but your voice was so sweet and soft, he was puzzled as to how one could form words without hearing them.
You smiled, typing away on your phone. You’d apparently lost your hearing after having learnt to talk, which made it easier to maintain the feeling of speaking certain sentences and words. You explained you preferred sign language, just because you couldn’t tell if your volume was too loud or too quiet, which explained why you’d spoken so softly, not wanting to seem like you were shouting.
Bradley smiled, mesmerized about your abilities, and he told you so as well. He could tell you were blushing at his compliment and that made him smile all the wider. Suddenly you took hold of his hand and held it to your throat before typing a quick “I can tell somewhat from how the vibrations feel in my throat when I speak - but it’s hard to tell what volume it’s at” and then you said “Rooster” out loud with that sweet voice Bradley had already come to love, even if it didn’t sound like everyone else. Perhaps that’s why he liked it so much. He could feel the vibrations that thrummed in your vocal chords, and he smiled. He’d never thought about any of these things.
You lifted your hand, raising a brow as if to ask a question, and he nodded - you placed your hand on his Adam’s apple. He laughed before saying that he thought you were beautiful. You smiled, looked down and blushed again before clearing your throat and slowly saying “You have a nice voice,”
Bradley beamed at the compliment “Yeah?” You nodded before typing “I can tell” with a little wink. God, he was a goner.
All too soon, Penny announced last round - and he made sure to swap numbers with you. You emptied your drink and typed out “I had a great time tonight. I’ll text you?” You smiled uncertainly, and he typed back “So did I. Please do text me so I know you’ve gotten home safe?” You grinned and nodded before wrapping your arms around his neck in a parting hug, waving goodbye sweetly before making your way out of the Hard Deck.
“Wow,” Rooster let out a breath as he made his way back to his friends who were slow to make it to the front door. Making eye contact with Hangman, Bradley groaned and said “Hangman, we’re fucking idiots,”
“I don’t even want to talk about it,” Hangman replied with a similar type of “fuck I’m dumb” groan. Bob was silently laughing behind them “That was absolutely golden,” he sniggered, throwing his arms around their shoulders and shaking them “Just two dumb pilots, huh?” He and Phoenix laughed.
“Jesus,” Rooster shook his head. “Bob. This was 'Rooster', right?” He signed and Bob nodded, laughing again “and 'thank you'” he repeated what Bob had showed him earlier. The WSO smiled and nodded at his friends eagerness.
“Can you help teach me sign language, Bob? I’d love to be able to talk to them better” Bradley sighed, wishing he could learn it all right this second. Bob smiled, he could tell this meant a lot to his friend, so therefore he said
“Of course, Brad. We’ll start with the alphabet tomorrow"
#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw x oc#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x oc#rooster x reader#rooster x oc#rooster x you#tgm fic#bradley rooster bradshaw fic#my writing
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interlude (b.r.b./j.h.s.)
a/n: i posted the first half of this months ago and it seemed to do fairly well so i'm posting the rest of it now that it's finished... enjoy.
summary: You're afraid that all you'll ever be to your boys is an interlude.
warnings: insecurities, polyamory relationship, swearing, angst
word count: 3.4k
in-ter-lude
noun
“an intervening period of time”
The bed is cold.
It’s the first thing he notices as the gray morning light bleeds through the blinds. He groans, turning over in the bed as he blindly reaches out to find you.
His hand just meets colder sheets, a hint of warmth emanating from Bradley if he reaches a little bit farther.
The cold sheets don’t surprise him, even as he sits up in the bed, blinking at Bradley’s sleeping figure. Bradley’s out, dead to the world, sleeping like a rock, per usual.
Jake slips out from the cold covers, lacking your usual warmth. The coldness doesn’t phase him, not anymore.
Most days they found you up long before the sun, pacing the kitchen, or nursing a cup of cold coffee at the kitchen table, or tucked under the sheer blanket tossed on the couch for decoration. The bed so often lacked your usual warmth, but so did you, the light dimming in your eyes as you retreated further and further into yourself as the days went by.
It concerned him, the way you were slipping through his fingers like smoke as the days went by, something he could never quite catch, no matter how hard he tried.
Getting stationed at Miramar should’ve brought you all closer together, not driven you further apart.
Jake shivers, stopping by the thermostat to turn on the heat as he winces at the cold hardwood of Bradley’s home against his bare feet.
He really hopes you had half a mind to grab one of their sweatshirts or sweatpants before disappearing down here this morning. He hopes you’ve grabbed one of the thicker blankets from the coat closet by the front door that they keep for movie nights. He hopes you’ve made yourself a cup of warm tea like you used to instead of letting your coffee go cold.
The sight of you not at the couch doesn’t surprise him, nor does the empty kitchen. It’s the sight of both of them void of life that does.
He peeks his head out the kitchen window, wondering if perhaps you’ve migrated outside.
It’s the driveway that’s one car emptier than usual that makes his gut turn, concern and panic alighting in his stomach.
“Bradley!”
-
You aren’t really sure when things began to feel off.
Well, that’s not entirely true.
You knew exactly when the seed had been planted.
It had been early on, the relationship still new as the three of you fumbled and stumbled in explaining the dynamic to others, especially those who had known Bradley and Jake when it had been just Bradley and Jake.
A night out at the Hard Deck was meant to be a fun, a happy conclusion to a rather long week.
“One might say you’re nothing but a bed warmer for Bradshaw while Seresin’s gone.” The pilot had said.
The consideration you’d given the words had been fleeting at the time, Bradley pulling you into a dizzying kiss that had you forgetting the words as quickly as the man had said them.
But the words had remained tucked aside and revealing themselves over time, targeting your worst fears.
That one day your boys would realize they didn’t want to be yours anymore, that this interlude in their relationship had been nothing more than a fun experiment, a phase in their lives before they settled down for more.
And it was selfish of you to stay when you knew that you were someone who was there in the times when Jake couldn’t be, that you were only filling a gap that would no longer need to be filled once Jake decided to remain on the ground for good.
It wasn’t fair to you. Or them, either really. Letting them live in this false reality where you were the perfect match.
You loved them. You did.
But sometimes you thought they loved the idea more than they ever really loved you.
-
You hadn’t been expecting the day to come so soon.
You knew that it would come eventually, that one day you would no longer be able to run from what you had known for months, that every day you spent loving them and every night you spent in between them was a blessing.
It wasn’t something you took for granted, became something you treasured the longer time went on as you knew you were getting closer and closer to the end.
You had just been, foolishly, hoping for more time.
Time, a fickle thing.
Jake hums into your bare shoulder as his fingers trace nonsensical patterns into your shoulder. Distantly, you both can hear Bradley clattering around in the kitchen as he attempts to make you all a belated breakfast after spending the morning in bed.
Jake would be leaving in the morning for a new deployment and there was only so much time to engrain every curve of Jake’s body into your memory before you would go without it for three months.
“I can hear you thinking from here.” You tease and you feel the curve of Jake’s mouth move upwards against your skin.
“I was just wondering…” He trails off, pressing a kiss to the skin. “How would you feel if this was the last deployment?”
Your stomach sinks, even as you desperately try to hold on to the rapidly fraying threads of hope that the day you’ve dreaded isn’t finally upon you.
“What do you mean?” You ask in a whispered voice, thankful you’re faced away from the man.
“I’m taking a permanent position at Miramar with Bradley. Looks like I’m going to be stateside for a while.”
You swallow, feeling your blood run ice cold at the words.
Three months. You had three months, maybe four, with them as yours. And then… and then they would remember why they didn’t have a third before you. You would have served your purpose. You would no longer be needed and they would be kind to you about it, not so callous and cruel as to toss you out, but it would be clear that your paths were diverging.
You’ve taken too long to respond to Jake and he must be nervous about your reaction because you can feel the slight tremble of his fingers against your skin as they resume their patterns.
“Whatever makes you happiest, honey. I’ll be right here.”
-
Bradley’s biggest insecurity is one he’ll never say out loud, too afraid of breathing life into the fears.
He sees the way you are with Jake, how soft you are with him, the warmth Jake only seems to bring out of you.
He often wonders if that softness is better suited to what Jake needs, that one day Jake will realize he needs soft more than he needs push-and-pull, you need Jake more than you need Bradley.
Jake’s only been gone for two weeks when you begin to pull away.
Bradley notices, because of course he does. He notices everything he can about you, because he knows that to be known is to be loved and that all you’ve ever wanted is to be known by someone.
He notices, because you roll over away from him in bed, not wanting to stay up and talk to him. He notices, because you don’t stay long enough to shower with him before work in the morning. He notices, because you’ve gone back to wearing your own sweatshirts instead of theirs. He notices, because you spend less nights at theirs than you used to, creating a house filled with ghosts.
And he wishes he could say that he knew you were just missing Jake.
But he knew what missing Jake looked like. When you missed Jake, you pulled in closer to Bradley, seeking out his stability, the consistent reassurance that he would always be there that the job at Top Gun offered.
This went deeper than that.
And Bradley couldn’t help but turn in, wondering what it was he had done to make the change in you.
-
In some ways, you thought it would be easier this way. To say goodbye to them before you were forced to. To prepare yourself for the break, to try to learn how to live without them before they made that decision for you.
In many ways, it was harder.
You craved Bradley’s touch, hated the ache in your soul every time you got further away when he tried to get closer.
You couldn’t remember the last time the two of you had had dinner together, basking in the warmth of each other’s company as you danced around the kitchen, fingers sticky from pasta sauce as you inevitably abandoned the food to make out against the stove.
You miss the twinkly in Bradley’s eyes, his mussed hair, the way his cheeks colored red enough to matching the lingering marinara.
You can’t remember the last time the two of you hunkered down on a Saturday to work together, eventually only completing a fraction of what needed to be done as the two of you came up with every excuse to not do the essays and homework assignments and lesson plans.
Jake had always been the one to keep you both on task, anyways.
You missed Bradley, craved for him in the same way you did Jake while he was deployed.
But yet, this was different. Because Bradley was right there, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to cross the line you had drawn and go to him.
I’m telling you Jake. She’s been different since you’ve been gone.
“How’s school?”
You raise your head, catching Jake watching you from the other end of the couch. He’s got a nervous smile on his face, the fingers clutching the neck of his beer bottle a bit too tightly being the dead give away to his concern. You stare at him, almost wondering if there’s someone else he’d be asking.
There isn’t, only you and Jake in the room. You can hear Bradley in the kitchen, rattling off the takeout order for the local Chinese place down the street from the boys house. It’s your favorite, though you know Jake’d much rather be having burgers for his first night back.
“How’s school going? You’re almost finished with your thesis, right?”
Jake knows the answer, that you’re two months and a final defense away from completing your degree.
You also know he’s trying to make conversation, trying to push around and see if he can't figure out what’s been bugging you without ever really asking. Find out why, according to Bradley, you’ve been off.
You shrug, looking away from Jake’s sea-glass eyes that can always read you too well.
You hear Jake shift on the couch when Bradley hangs up the phone, leaving the kitchen. “Chinese should be here in about thirty minutes. What Real Housewives franchise did we decide on?”
-
He can hear Bradley groan as he takes the stairs two at a time, heart beating through his chest.
You’ve never left on Sundays.
Sundays were your day together.
Like clockwork, the three of you would have a slow morning in bed. You always bemoan the fact that the boys couldn’t keep their hands to themselves, but they knew that you secretly loved the way they actually had time to savor your body in the way they felt it should be.
You’d all have breakfast together, hanging out on the couch in a tangle of limbs as you watched cartoons. It was Bradley’s idea, the first time you had done it, the child at heart that he is.
Then Jake and Bradley would go for a run. You’d do the laundry and tidy the house from the week. Get it ready for the next.
And then the boys would come home, all sweaty and gross and give you kisses on your cheek as you cringed and complained that they smelled.
They knew you loved it anyways. Loved them anyways.
After coaxing you into the shower with them through all your reluctance and hesitation, they’d take a thoroughly delightful detour before Jake would make you all lunch.
Maybe in the afternoon, you’d all try to bake a new pastry, or watch one of the sports games on television, or take naps in the sun on the couch.
And then you’d get takeout from somewhere, soaking up the last few hours of one another’s company before the week started over.
It was all so domestic and intimate, so uniquely yours.
You didn’t live with the boys (not yet anyways, they’d been trying their damndest), but despite all that, you never missed Sundays with them.
Sundays were the one day that were yours and yours alone, living in a bubble where nothing could touch you.
And you were gone.
It felt like an ending Jake hadn’t ever seen coming, an iron punch to the gut that has him doubled over, one he couldn’t avoid no matter how hard he tried.
He enters the bedroom as Bradley looks at him, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.
“She’s not here.”
Bradley glances at the empty bed, giving a soft shrug of his shoulders as he falls back under the covers.
“Jake-”
“No, she’s not here. She’s gone.”
Bradley freezes, looking at him. The fear is evident on his face, that you’ve left them for good.
For all Bradley had tried to get answers out of you, Jake had backed off, letting you have your space. In turn, Jake found you spending more time with him than you did Bradley.
He knew that for all the million conversations he’d had with you since being home, they’d all been nothing more than surface level. He could see that your guard was up, that you were there but weren’t really there.
But he didn’t look at you like Bradley did, with that knowing look in his eye.
And the more Bradley pushed, the further away you got.
And Jake feared that Bradley was going to push you right out the door.
And he knew Bradley feared it too.
“Where are you going?” Bradley calls after him as he slips back down the stairs.
“To bring our girl home.”
-
The knocking at your door startles you out of your daze and you pull yourself from the couch, socks sliding against the shitty wood of your apartment floor as you walk over to it. The door reveals a tense Jake and an apprehensive Bradley standing behind him.
You blink. “Hello?”
“You left.”
Jake’s tone is blunt, no room left for argument.
“Okay?” You say, clutching the edge of the door tighter. “Am I your hostage now? Not allowed to leave the premises?”
“It’s Sunday.” Bradley speaks, tone much softer than Jake’s. “We always spend Sunday together.”
You sigh, turning. The boys follow you into the too-small apartment, one of them shutting the door as you sit at the kitchen island.
“I had to work on my thesis.”
It’s not untrue.
Books are scattered over your counter, your laptop sitting open with a nearly final draft on the screen but it hadn’t been the reason you’d left before both the boys were awake this morning.
But if they asked, you weren’t even sure you could explain why you had left this morning, just that you woke up feeling like you needed to.
“So? You could’ve done that at our place.” Jake shoots back, his words still cutting with an edge you weren't used to being on the receiving end of.
Bradley puts his hands out as if to placate the man. “Okay. Okay. I think that we have reached the point where we need to talk.”
We need to talk.
Your head hangs at the words, a lump already growing in your throat.
Bradley walks to the opposite side of the island, trying to catch your eye. “You’ve been pulling away from us. Ever since Jake told you he’d be settling at Miramar permanently, you’ve been weird. Why?”
You shrug, unable to meet his eye as tears begin to sting. The tip of your nose has that familiar itch too, and it’s all you can do to not break down in front of them as you play with the strings of your hoodie.
Bradley rounds the counter, sitting down in the chair next to you. Jake takes his place leaning on the counter from you. Bradley hesitates briefly before setting his hand on your bare thigh, rubbing slow circles into the skin with his thumb.
“Please talk to us, sweetheart.”
You reach up, rubbing the edge of your nose with the sleeve of your sweatshirt before sighing.
“Some days… Some days, I feel like I’m nothing more than a bed warmer for you.”
“Where the hell did you get that idea?”
“Jake.” Bradley reprimands, squeezing your thigh. “Sweetheart, wh- where did we ever show that? We love you.”
You sniff, glancing up at the ceiling. “Back- back when we started this, there was a night where we were at the Hard Deck. Some guy said to me that I was just a bedwarmer for you while Jake was gone. That that’s all I’d ever be.”
“And you believed him?”
“Jake.” Bradley says again, shooting him a look to which Jake responds by throwing his hands up in the air and walking away from the counter.
“Not at first.” You admit, shaking your head. “But- the two of you were together before me. And I knew that there would be a day where the two of you would go back to wanting it to be just the two of you. And I knew that day would come when Jake wasn’t spending months at a time halfway around the world. You don’t need me anymore.”
“Don’t- don’t need you anymore?” Jake asks incredulously, walking back to where he’d been standing. “Darling, of course we need you. You complete us, you’re everything we want.”
A tear trickles down your face as you meet his sea-glass eyes. You pay it no mind as Jake continues talking again. “Yes, yeah, Bradley and I were together before you came along. And yeah, that was fun and where we needed to be during that time of our lives. But darling, you don’t get it. You complete us. It’s important to me that you know that. And maybe we don’t say it enough or show it enough, but God, if it was just Brad and I again, we’d kill each other.”
“That’s a bit harsh.” Bradley mutters.
The only sign Jake gives that he heard Bradley’s words is a roll of his eyes, continuing to speak. “Darling, you balance us. You give us both exactly what we need. You give me space to be vulnerable, to allow myself to feel like even after all the shit I’ve done, I’m still worthy of being loved. You match Bradley’s kindness tit-for-tat and the two of you can laugh hours into the night, I know. Bradley and I- we’ve had our issues, our fights and our screaming matches and our nasty insults. And with you, we don’t do that.”
Bradley squeezes your thigh again. “Where Jake’s going with this sweetheart, is that Jake and I have both been through our own shit. And I know you have too, I’m not denying that. But when it was just Jake and I, it was a 110 percent all the time or nothing at all. And with you, we’ve been able to slow down, remember what’s important to us. That this is built on a foundation of love. Of trust and communication. And that foundation starts to fall apart if you don’t talk to us.”
You sniff, looking down at your hands. “I’m sorry.” Your voice is watery as a few more tears slip over.
“You think I still don’t have my fears? That maybe you and Jake will decide you’re better off together just the two of you than with me? That maybe the two of you will just become two more people in my life who have left?”
“I didn't know that.” Jake admits softly, his shoulders deflating.
Bradley gives a half shrug. “Was too scared to say anything. Didn’t want to find out that I was right.”
You sniff again, the tears threatening to overwhelm you.
You were so overwhelmed by all of it. By Bradley’s admission of his own fears, that he didn’t see how loved he was, how much you needed him in the same way you needed Jake. By their equal professions of love for you.
Jake finally rounds the counter, to come sit on the other barstool next to you. He pushes some hair away from your face, pressing a tender to kiss to your forehead and swiping away your tears.
“This isn’t just an interlude for us, darling. You’re our future.”
#jake hangman seresin#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw fic#jake hangman seresin fic#jake hangman seresin x reader x bradley rooster bradshaw#top gun: maverick#top gun: maverick fic
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Around the World and Back (With You) | Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader
(18+, minors dni)
after hooking up with bradley at the beginning of summer, you can’t seem to shake him–or your developing feelings.
warnings: age gap (reader is 21 (at the start), bradley is 32), asshole jake, complicated hannix side plot, somewhat forbidden romance, asshole bradley (a teensy bit), bradley’s ex gf is...present
✧ reader’s nickname is sunny for her bright disposition
✧ playlist/moodboard (tbh, if anyone is interested)
1 | Coronado Beach | May 2018
2 | Downtown San Diego | August 2018
3 | Los Angeles | October 2018
4 | Rome | December 2018
5 | Manhattan | March 2019
6 | USC Graduation | May 2019
7 | North Island | July 2019
8 | Los Angeles | September 2019
9 | SLC International Airport | November 2019
10 | Home | November 2019
#bradley bradshaw#rooster bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#Top Gun fic#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley rooster bradshaw fic
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change your ticket home
a top gun maverick AU
pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Sherrie McHone (fem!OC)
summary: After a successful business trip on the West Coast, two Wells Corporation engineers have problems getting back home. Thank god for Bradley Bradshaw, a man who is determined to make their hours waiting in the terminal as enjoyable as possible. And if he and his pretty travel companion (and colleague) get closer along the way? Well that’s just a bonus.
warnings: difficulties of being a woman in a male-dominated field, minor misogyny from coworkers, yearning, pining, Bradley being an absolute sweetheart, it's vaguely alluded to but Sherrie is named after the Steve Perry song, American Airlines bashing bc this fic is based on a real and horrible experience I had a few years ago. and yes, the title is from the one direction song.
word count: 9.8k | masterlist
note: happy saturday! this has been in the works for almost a year and I'm so thrilled to finally be sharing it! this is dedicated to @gretagerwigsmuse, who gave so many wonderful ideas and has continually been a cheerleader for this fic. happy birthday!
Friday, July 15, 2016 | 06:36 AM PST | San Diego, CA
“If I fake a heart attack, we can get out of this meeting, right?”
She looks over at Bradley sprawled in the uncomfortable café chair in his navy suit, his arm slung over the back of her chair. He’s down to just his crisp, white button-up, jacket, and tie abandoned within the first ten minutes of the call.
“Suck it up, we’re almost done.” She rolls her eyes. “And Martin knows you’re a supremely healthy thirty-two-year-old, so no, I don’t think that will work.”
“Sherrie…” His whine is cut off by her hand covering his mouth as she unmutes her microphone and mentally praises his decision to sit so close to her. Not having to pull out both laptops was just an additional perk on top of her ability to silence him.
“That’s correct, Sean. We got them to agree to a small batch trail run for the connectors. We’ll be working together on running them through environmental testing before committing to a full contract.”
“And why are they agreeing to that? Because frankly, it makes no sense to me why they would want to do that.”
Bradley straightens up, his eyes narrowing at the Teams box showing the older man’s initials. “Well, Sean, as Sherrie explained before. Harris hasn’t produced connectors like this before, and they’re interested in the test results, specifically the shock data. So they agreed to take on half the burden so they can use the information for their own use. If this works how we think it will, this will be a huge boost for their business, even if the patent is shared.”
She looks at him, half admonishment and half appreciation, always a little bit amazed when he had her back, no matter how many times he had done it. “The contracts team is drawing up the final agreements and negotiating with their team next week, so best case scenario is we have reports with usable data by the end of the summer. Worst case, it’ll drift into the middle of Q1.”
“That’s great work you guys did out there, thank you. Alright, I think that covers everything we had to talk about today. McHone, Bradshaw - have a safe flight back, and everyone have a good weekend!” Martin ends the call before anyone can add anything.
Bradley laughs. “God, he’s just as sick of Sean as I am. I can’t wait until he retires.”
“He’s not that bad; you’re just grumpy because you had to dress up for the staff meeting, and then Martin said cameras off today.”
“I am upset about that! I will be logging yet another suggestion that we should have casual Fridays and casual travel policy. But I’m more upset because he talks down to you all the time! Like you haven’t been carrying this department on your back since we started ten years ago!”
“Carrying is an exaggeration, Bradley.” She looks up from where she’s putting her laptop away. “I think you have time to change into something comfy before we board.”
“American Airlines Flight 2307 from San Diego to Charlotte, Boarding Group A can now board.”
“Or not.” She giggles as he groans, reaching over to pull her other air pod out of his ear. “Come on, it’s a long flight; you can sleep on the plane. Just be thankful you’re not wearing an underwire bra and heels.”
“I don’t know how you do that.” He mutters, shooing her away when she tries to pick up her carry-on, throwing it over his shoulder alongside his own.
“I don’t either. I’m going to get a massage when we get back to Boston.”
“Ohhh, a massage sounds nice.” He subtly sticks his elbow out for her grab, which she gratefully does, letting his tall frame guide her to their gate. “You know you didn’t have to wear heels, right?”
“You should shut up while I’m still thankful you yelled at Sean for me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Sherrie leans her head on his arm as they wait in the priority boarding line, one of the perks of traveling on the company’s dime. Normally, she would worry about being more professional while carrying her work bag that had the Wells Corporation logo embroidered on it, but she can’t bring herself to care. Yesterday’s meetings ran late, and the following client dinner had kept them out until almost midnight. After packing, going to bed late, and having to get up at 3:30AM to get to the airport, she was exhausted.
She takes her bag before they scan their tickets, not fighting when he grabs it again on their walk down the jet bridge.
“Where are you sitting again?”
“I’m in 16C.” She snorts at Bradley’s pout. “What? You knew we weren’t going to be sitting together.”
“But I’m going to be bored all the way back in 21D by myself.”
“Bud, you’re going to fall asleep in the first 30 minutes like you always do, and then I would be stuck for the next four hours with you leaning and drooling on me.”
Bradley whips his head around, “That is a baseless accusation. I do not drool!”
“You 100% definitely do drool, I’ve seen it.” Her smirk widens when his attempt to fight back is cut off by the flight attendants greeting them.
He ushers Sherrie on first, politely nodding to the flight crew before following her down the aisle, ducking down to whisper. “I do not drool.”
“You absolutely do drool. You also snore.”
She can feel eyes on them as they shuffle down the aisle, making eye contact with an older woman who raises her eyebrows in appreciation at the hunk of a man behind her.
This happens everywhere they go.
Bradley is such a gentleman, always opening doors and carrying her bags, that people never believe the two are just friends and coworkers. She’s had complete strangers fight with her when she says there’s nothing between them. Unable to accept that it’s just platonic.
As much as she wishes it could be more.
After years of learning all the little details of each other, she knows they would be good together. Their decade-long friendship allowing her to thoroughly analyze how well their personalities would mesh. They share the same beliefs and have the same interests; they even have overlapping friend groups. They’re made for each other.
On paper.
In reality, it will never happen.
She won’t let it.
“Is this good here?” Bradley’s question interrupts her weekly internal spiral; his big brown eyes blink at her over his shoulder as he puts her bag into the overhead compartment.
“That’s fine. Can you grab my water bottle out of the side pocket?
“Here ya go, ma’am. I’ll meet you by the water foundation when we land, okay?”
She nods, smiling as he hustles back to his seat to avoid a family almost flattening him in their haste to get to their assigned seats.
Her seat neighbors haven’t arrived yet, so Sherrie sits down without bothering to buckle, tucking her work bag under the row in front of her after pulling out her plane kit. Her pencil case from college that she’s repurposed to hold her headphones, phone charger, gum, hand sanitizer, and a few other small necessities.
Her phone buzzes as she’s storing her water bottle and the little bag away in the pocket of the seat in front of her.
Bradley is woken up by his seat neighbor hitting his arm as he reaches to grab a drink, nodding at the guy’s apologetic face before trying to get comfortable again. Alan talked way too much at dinner last night, and it was a struggle to stay awake during the project manager’s third round of gushing over how brilliant and profitable Sherrie’s proposal would be for both companies.
“Sir? This is for you, do you want it?” The muffled question is accompanied by someone shaking his shoulder. He peels open his eyes to see the flight attendant holding out two packets of Biscoff cookies.
His face must be confused enough for the short woman to take pity on him. “Your friend up there said these are your favorite and asked me to give hers to you.”
His heart warms up, taking the treats and saying thank you. He enjoys the cookies, washing them down with the ginger ale he also got, thinking about how well Sherrie knows him. He forces himself to wait for them to finish snack service before he gets up to use the restroom.
“Thank you.” Bradley revels in the way Sherrie jumps when he pops her headphone out, purposefully brushing his lips against her ear. “Hmmm, you were right, your seatmate is cute.”
She glares up at him, a smile threatening to break through. “Isn’t he? He fell asleep five minutes after take off, just like you.”
“Yet, another baseless accusation!”
“I heard you snoring.”
“You shouldn’t lie in front of small children.”
“His mom said he’s seven months old; I don’t think we have to be concerned about teaching him to lie while he’s still in a car seat.”
“Probably shouldn’t chance it, though. Say I don’t snore.”
“You just said I shouldn’t lie. Should probably go to the bathroom before you start holding up traffic.” She puts her headphone back in, wiggling her fingers at him before going back to reading on her phone.
It gives him the strangest sense of déjà vu.
Tuesday, March 25, 2005 | 10:43 AM EST | Charlottesville, VA
“…and he said you had already-” Bradley cuts himself off, realizing she can’t hear him. He chuckles; he should have known better than to just walk up and start talking.
He doesn’t know Sherrie McHone very well. They had taken all the freshman intro to engineering requirements together, and this year their classes had split into their chosen disciplines. His mechanical, hers electrical. But he knows her well enough to know that she can pretty much only be found without her headphones during class.
He remembers the first time they spoke last semester after he accidentally walked right into her. He had told Danny it’s because she’s so much shorter than him, but it’s really because he wasn't paying attention.
Sherrie had only taken one earpiece out to make sure he was okay before continuing onto her class, seamlessly weaving between upperclassmen as she shoved her headphone back in.
“Sherrie?” No response.
He lets out a tiny huff and checks his watch. Normally, he wouldn’t care that she’s clueless to his existence even as he’s right beside her, but he’s got a class soon, and he’s still two buildings away. So he does the only thing he can.
He pops her headphones out and steps back for fear of getting smacked.
Her head whips up, narrowing in on him freakishly fast. “What the fuck, Bradshaw?”
He’s surprised to learn that she knows his name.
“Sorry, Sherrie! I’ve been trying to talk to you for like five minutes, and you somehow haven’t noticed, but I’ve got class in 15 minutes, so I needed to get your attention.”
“Oh…” Her green eyes widen in surprise, the apples of her cheeks turning a light pink. “Sorry about that. What did you need? Wait. How did you find me?”
A fair question.
“Khondker told me where you sit.” He partially fibs.
All semester he had been watching her disappear after EE221, the one class they shared. It had taken him a while, but he was pretty sure he had found her secret study nook in the electrical engineering wing of the building. Their TA had only confirmed Bradley’s theory of where he could find his fellow sophomore.
“I don’t understand this last section we’ve been learning, and Khondker said you had already finished the homework and could help me. So could you?”
“He didn’t help you?” Sherrie raises an eyebrow in disbelief.
“He tried.” Bradley scratches the back of his head, remembering how frustrated the patient man had been after his third attempt at explaining. “I just really don’t understand circuit loops. And he thought having a classmate explain it to me would make it stick. That or he was just so sick of me, he’s pawning me off.”
He watches her think, her pencil rapidly tapping against her notebook, making him nervous.
“I don’t want to be rude, but if you don’t understand current loops, I’m not sure how much help I can be. I understand the material, but I’m not a miracle worker.”
Her bluntness makes him smile. “I’m not expecting miracles, just help with the homework. If you have time.”
“Okay, just as long as you don’t get your hopes up too much.” She grabs a bright pink notebook and opens it up. “So, I’m usually free-”
“I don't want to interrupt, but I do have to get to class, so could we figure out a time later today?”
“Sure, I’ll be here until my class at four. Feel free to sit down if I’m not here; it just means I’m grabbing food.” He nods, backing away. “Wait! Bradley! Go down this hall and out the side door. You’ll be like halfway there already.”
“Awesome, thanks!” He starts to jog down the hallway, looking back to see her putting her headphones back in. Waving back when she smiles and wiggles her fingers at him before going back to her homework.
Friday, July 15, 2016 | 3:16 PM EST | Charlotte, NC
“Our flight got delayed, and I’m hungry.”
Sherrie jumps, not expecting Bradley to get that close to her face three seconds after she exited the bathroom.
“Okay, I could eat. Where do you wan-”
“Auntie Anne’s.”
He’s walking away before she can even process what he said. She allows herself one second to appreciate the way he looks, walking through the concourse - navy slacks fitting his legs perfectly and all their bags thrown over his broad shoulders - before she’s clicking along after him.
“Bradshaw!” He freezes and turns, almost taking a lanky teenager out with her backpack. “Oh my god, Bradley! Be careful! You almost took that kid’s head off.”
His smile is sheepish as she shuffles them over to the wall. “I did not do that on purpose.”
She giggles and takes her backpack from his shoulder. “Yeah, I kinda figured. But you should have seen his face. His life flashed before his eyes. All sixteen years.”
“I can carry that Sherrie.”
“That’s okay, I got it. No! Bradley!”
He ignores her, smiling at her frustrated little stomp when he hands over her tan, cross-body purse out of her work bag. “You just carry that and make sure I don’t take out any toddlers or old ladies.”
“How am I supposed to do that if I’m ahead of you?” She snarks as he steers them toward the food stands.
“You’re smart; I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Bradley laughs when she mocks him under her breath. “I can hear you, smartass.”
“You were meant to, Bradley.”
His heart flutters at the teasing wink she sends over her shoulder. It’s been twelve years since they became friends, and he still feels like that 20-year-old kid who was nervous to talk to the pretty red-headed girl he had a crush on.
He can feel eyes on them as her heels catch people’s attention, and he finds himself glaring at men who are shamelessly staring. Her shoes aren’t loud as they click along on the tile floor, but it’s hard to ignore the beautiful woman striding along in business casual.
It happens everywhere they go.
Sherrie has always been beautiful and painfully unaware of her effect on men. It never matters where they are - at work, the rare baseball game he forces her to attend, happy hour with their friends from school - she always catches attention. It doesn’t bother him because she never reciprocates, and he’s always the one to give her a ride back to her apartment.
Even if he wishes it was their apartment they were going to.
He’s watched her change over the last decade, seen her grow as a person. He’s risen through the ranks with her professionally, the two of them matching each other step for step with each promotion and raise. He’s publicly assured her that her hair still looks good as it’s deepened color with age, now less red and more auburn. He’s privately appreciated the way her body has changed, softer and curvier than when they were kids. Her wide hips are a frequent star in his daydreams.
It's the only place where they’ll ever be in a relationship.
He knows they’d be perfect together. Old friends who know each other so well they don’t even have to talk to communicate sometimes. Whose attitudes fit together like puzzle pieces, perfectly in sync with each other. He knows it won’t happen. Can’t happen.
“Grab us a table, and I’ll get the food.”
“Okay.” He doesn’t fight her about paying, knowing this will be covered under their per diem. “Don’t forget my-”
“You’re frozen lemonade, I know!”
Bradley rolls his eyes at the hand that waves over her shoulder, settling their bags at a table and keeping an eye on Sherrie while sending an update to Mav.
His thumbs hover over the keyboard. He wants to tell his uncle the whole situation - that he’s not afraid to flirt with Sherrie.
“Everything okay?”
Bradley looks up to find her eyebrows furrowed as she sets a tray down.
“All good. Just sending my family an update that we’re delayed.”
She nods, sitting in the chair across from him. “Here’s your mini pretzel dogs, with mustard and a frozen lemonade. This is my pretzel nuggets, cheese sauce, and Diet Coke. Oh! And I got us these cinnamon sugar pretzels to share!”
“Thank you for remembering the mustard.”
“Bradley, when have I ever forgotten the mustard? Here, take some napkins.”
He shoves an entire mini pretzel dog in his mouth in lieu of answering her question, which they both know the answer to. Never. She has never forgotten his love for pretzels with mustard.
They eat in comfortable silence, the way only two friends can, occasionally dunking into each other's sauces as they scroll through their phones.
“Hey, how is your da- oh Bradley! You got mustard on your shirt!” His head snaps down to his shirt, groaning when he sees the yellow blob on his white button-up.
“Fuck! This is new, too!”
Sherrie dives into her bag, muttering about a stain stick, a triumphant noise escaping when she comes up successful. Scooting closer to him, she’s hit with a wave of nostalgia as she helps him clean his shirt.
Friday, April 6, 2007 | 10:12 PM EST | Charlottesville, VA
“You should’ve been gone, knowing how I made you feel!”
Sherrie’s head pops up from the lab reports she’s grading.
“And I should've been gone, after all your words of steel!”
She knows that voice.
“Oh, I must've been a dreamer! And I must've been someone else!”
She knows that voice very well.
“And we should've been over!”
She rushes for the front door, hoping and praying that the idiot she’s become close friends with this year isn’t actually outside her townhouse.
“Oh! Sherrie, our love holds on! Holds on!”
She whips the door open and, sure enough, drunkenly singing to her neighbor's house is Bradley Bradshaw.
“Bradley!” She hisses at him, ignoring the flutters in her stomach when he points his big, goofy grin towards her and not the tulips the soccer girls next door planted in front of their bay window. “What are you doing? It’s 10 PM!”
“You didn’t come.”
“First man to ever care about that.” She mutters, snorting at her joke.
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing. What are you doing here?”
His puppy dog eyes are vicious, and she has the urge to slap her hand over her eyes so she doesn’t succumb to their power. “You didn’t come to the party!”
Sherrie sighs, she thought he might be disappointed she didn’t come to the annual Sigma Chi Easter Bash, but she never thought he would actually notice her absence. Or that it would result in a drunken serenade.
“Bradley, I told you I had a lot of grading and might not make it tonight.” She gently reminds him, stifling a laugh when he trips over his own feet while standing still. “You okay?”
“I have to pee. Can I come in?”
She’s pretty sure he’s just making excuses but lets him in any way; she doesn’t need to deal with him getting a public indecency charge on top of everything else. “Shoes off, Bradshaw. Bathroom is right here; I’ll be in the dining room.”
“Yes, ma’am!” He sloppily salutes her, losing his balance and thunking against the wall, one shoe still on.
Sherrie just blinks at him before returning to her spot at the dining room table, holding in the laugh threatening to escape. She settles in her chair, focusing on the mediocre reports her students had turned in.
“I washed my hands!” Bradley’s abrupt entrance startles her. “Can we have a snack? I’m hungry?
She watches in amusement as he shuffles to her fridge, riffling through the shelves before opening the freezer and gasping.
“I love pretzels. Can we make these? Please?”
The box of pretzels belongs to her roommate, but she’s not strong enough to deny Bradley’s big brown eyes two times in a row so she makes a mental note to buy Amna a new box the next time she goes to the store. “Yeah, we can. But no touching the oven when you’re drunk. Go sit down.”
“I’m not drunk!” He argues even as he follows her directions, plopping himself at the table and nosily leafing through her done pile. “Wow, lots of red here.”
“Bradley! Don’t look at those!”
“Why not?”
“Would you want some random student looking through your homework?”
His rebuttal gets cut off by the oven beeping, announcing it’s up to temp. After she pops the tray in the oven, she turns and catches him appreciating the pj shorts riding up her shapely legs.
“What?” Her head cocks in confusion.
“Nothin'… cute shorts.”
“Thank you.” He watches in fascination as she snips at him even while her cheeks turn pink. “It’s almost like I was dressed for comfort and not planning on being interrupted.”
“But you’re glad I’m here, right?”
“I’ve had worse company on a Friday night.” She nudges him out of her chair. “While those are baking, go find something to watch, and I’m going to finish grading this report.”
“Such a responsible TA.”
Pride fills his chest as Sherrie snorts at his joke and goes back to work. They’ve officially been friends since last year, but he still tries his hardest to make her laugh. She's always so busy and stressed, and she does the cutest little snort-laugh when he catches her off guard.
He puts on a random movie, just grabbing a VHS case with the Disney logo on the side, before plopping on the couch. “Is there a reason you have so many kids movies?”
“Those are Jayla’s, she collects them.” Sherrie answers, never looking up from the table. “What did you choose?”
“It’s a surprise!”
“You don’t remember, huh?”
“Nope! I’ll be quiet now.”
She hums a thank you in his direction, and Bradley keeps his promise, watching her work and staying quiet until the timer goes off. His chin hooked on the back of the couch; he follows her movement through the kitchen as she pulls the pretzels out and transfers them to a plate.
“Can I have mustard, please?”
“Sure can.” Sherrie smiles at his dopey smile as she makes her way to the couch. “Here, take these, then we can eat.”
He gulps down the painkillers she drops in his hand, chugging the rest of the apple juice after they’re gone, smiling when she absentmindedly praises him for listening. He shoves a bite of pretzel in his mouth and mashes the play button, and is pleasantly surprised to find A Bug’s Life was the mystery choice.
“I love this movie,” he garbles through a pretzel. “I love how Flick wins over the princess just by getting a chance to show off his true self.”
“That was shockingly wise for the drunk man sprawled on my couch.”
Bradley thanks her, already a bit more sober but not enough to pick up on her teasing. “So, why didn’t you come? Grading really couldn’t wait?”
“It probably could have, but I’m not a partier, Bradley. You know that.” She dips a piece of pretzel in the mustard. “Besides, I really didn’t think you would notice I wasn’t there, Mr. Popular.”
“You’re the only person I invited; of course, I noticed when you didn’t show up.”
“Really? No one else? Why?”
“I know it’s almost finals, but I wanted to hang out without any books in front of us; that’s all we do lately. Study. Plus, you’ve been extra stressed about something that you don’t want to talk about, and I just wanted you to relax since you won’t talk to me about whatever is bothering you.”
“That’s sweet of you, Bradley. It’s not that I don’t want to tell you; it’s just that my family has been…” She waves a hand through the air, a deep sigh escaping. “It’s complicated. I’m trying not to think about it too much.”
“Well, I’m here if you do want to talk.”
“Thanks bud. How about you? How’re your parents?” She takes one last chunk before nudging the plate in his direction and settling back into the corner.
“Mom is good; she’s close to being considered cancer-free. I think we’re gonna throw a party when she gets there.”
“That’s awesome, Bradley! I’m glad she’s doing so well. How’s your dad?”
“Mav isn’t my dad.”
A record scratch plays in Sherrie’s head as she freezes. She knows she’s heard Bradley talk about his dad, and she’d seen photos of his parents the one time she had visited his frat house last year. He had specifically pointed the photo out, telling her it was his parents. She had even been next to him when he was on the phone when he said “dad” to the person on the other end.
“My dad died when I was three. Mav is- was his best friend. I call him dad sometimes because he’s the closest thing I’ve got.”
Sherrie feels her heart break as Bradley sniffles and sadly shoves a mustard-covered pretzel in his mouth, unshed tears clumping his eyelashes. She’s never seen her friend like this before; she’s experienced many other emotions - frustration, joy, confusion - but the pain creasing his brow is new.
Comforting crying people has never been her forte, but instinctively - almost like they moved without her permission - Sherrie’s fingers run over his hair. Gently stroking the sun-streaked waves as a few tears escape down his cheeks and she scoots closer, letting her body press into his side and hoping the proximity helps.
“I’m sorry for crying on you.” He quietly apologizes after a few minutes of tears.
“S’okay. Family can be hard sometimes.”
“Complicated.”
“That too.” She hums, not moving as he swipes at his eyes and leans against her more, his head resting on her shoulder in a slouched position that can’t be comfortable.
“I love Mav; he’s my dad in all the ways it matters. It just sucks that my actual dad won’t be here for graduation. Like, I know he’s missed so much of my life already, but something about him missing college graduation is worse than everything else. It’s just so unfair; I barely remember him, but I just- I just miss him so much, Sherrie.”
Her heart cracks in half at the whispered confession. She can’t even imagine the pain of losing a parent at such a young age. The inability to remember one of the people responsible for giving you life, all memories fuzzy and most built from second-hand recollections of those who can remember. So she says the one thing she would want to hear.
“Tell me about him.”
Sherrie knows she said the right thing when his red-rimmed eyes brighten, and he immediately launches into a beloved story detailing his father’s love of pranks. She listens dutifully — laughing at the right moments and asking questions when Bradley gets carried away, forgetting that she doesn’t know all the people in his story — and feels her heart warm more and more. She’s always liked Bradley, probably more than she should, but it’s hard not to like him. He’s considerate, smart, and funny, not to mention handsome.
Thankfully, before she gets lost in thoughts of broad shoulders and strong jawlines, a big glob of mustard drops on Bradley’s t-shirt, abruptly cutting him off. The two stare in silence at the yellow condiment sitting on the black cotton shirt, somehow surprised at its appearance, before breaking down into giggles.
“C’mon Bradshaw,” Sherrie grabs his hand, pulling him off the couch. “I have a Tide pen we can use on that mess.”
Bradley follows her up the stairs and into the bathroom, teasing Sherrie about the way her tongue pokes out when she focuses. She takes the gentle taunts, grateful he’s focusing on that and not on her pink cheeks or the way her eyes keep darting to his toned stomach. She’s not sure it was completely necessary for him to strip his shirt off, but she won’t be complaining.
“Well,” A few minutes later, she interrupts his rambling story about a slip and slide. Or she thinks that’s what it’s about; she missed the first part. “I think this is as good as I can get it.”
“That’s okay; it’s not like it’s new or anything. Thanks, Sherrie.”
She steadfastly ignores the pounding heart in her chest as miles of golden skin gets covered back up, trying to not feel too disappointed by its disappearance.
Friday, July 15, 2016 | 3:56 PM EST | Charlotte, NC
“Oh, this is ridiculous!” Bradley complains a bit too loudly, ears going hot when several pairs of eyes curiously dart toward him, but his focus doesn’t stay on that for very long when he catches the face Sherrie makes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing!”
He squints suspiciously as she avoids eye contact. He usually takes her at her word and doesn’t push, but the frown pulling down the corners of her pink lips sets off bells in his head. “Sherrie, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Bradley. I’m fine.”
He grumbles at her lack of response but settles again in the spot they had claimed after finishing their snack. The gate was still packed, but they had found a prime location with outlets; the only downside was having to sit on the floor, something that is getting harder the older they get.
Bradley scans the area, trying to scout out some open chairs for them to grab, while Sherrie goes back to the movie they’ve been watching on his phone. His eyes drop away from the chairs in surprise when she scoots closer and leans on his shoulder. It’s not uncommon for them to sit close like this at home in Boston, sides pressed together, but she makes a point to be professional when they’re on travel.
“Hey,” he gently nudges her side, concern rising when she doesn’t lift her head, choosing to tilt her neck back, looking up at him with tired eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Panic grips his chest when tears start forming, clouding her green eyes. “Sherrie?! What’s wrong?”
“We were supposed to be halfway home by now, and I’m so uncomfortable. I’m sorry, Bradley, I’m just so tired.” She whimpers, hiding against his bicep.
It hits him like a glass of cold water. Of course, she’s uncomfortable. She’s been walking around in heels and her pantsuit since 4AM California time after getting maybe three hours of sleep. His suit and shoes are comfortable and easily wearable for twelve-plus hours, not to mention the jacket and tie that were ditched sometime after the mustard incident.
“Oh, Sherrie, it’s okay. Let’s go change, yeah? Then we’ll find a quieter place so you can close your eyes and maybe get some sleep.”
“But the policy…”
Bradley resists the urge to roll his eyes at her insistence on rule-following. “In the nicest way possible, Sher, fuck the policy. You’re uncomfortable, and I care about that way more than I could ever care about a stupid, archaic policy.”
He stands, unplugging their phones and gathering their bags on his shoulder before turning to his best friend, who is still on the floor. ���C’mon, we’re putting comfy clothes on.”
“But Bradley-”
“No arguing.” He interrupts, helping her off the ground and directing them back towards the restrooms. “We’re not going to sit in our suits for god knows how much longer.”
“But Bradley, I don’t have anything to change into. We had such a packed schedule I didn’t bother to bring normal clothes.” He ignores the thumping of his heart when her hand grabs his forearm, warm fingers slipping under the edge of the rolled-up sleeve as she tugs to slow his pace. At that information, he slides them out of the flow of traffic and over to the wall, Bradley pressing her against one of the columns lining the concourse atrium.
“You don’t have any regular clothes? What about your pajamas?”
“I have a pair of leggings because I was going to do a training run in the gym last night, but that’s it. I can’t wear my pjs because… well, they’re not appropriate for public.”
“Your leggings are clean, though, right?” He asks, ignoring the thoughts of what non-public appropriate pajamas might look like.
“Well, yeah, dinner went so late I barely had time to sleep before we had to be up. I guess I could buy a shirt at one of the SmartShop- what are you doing?”
Bradley peers up from his knees, where he had started digging in his bag. “I’m grabbing one of my shirts for you. Would you prefer a t-shirt or a sweatshirt? Actually, you’re definitely gonna get cold, sweatshirt for you.”
He pulls the worn, gray crew neck out, shaking it out before handing it over.
“You still have this?” The disbelief in her voice makes him laugh.
“Of course, I still have that! Relay was always my favorite event of the year. And that year was my favorite one.”
As the philanthropy chair of Sigma Chi, part of his job was to sign the brothers up for volunteer events and fundraisers. With his mom’s diagnosis, he ensured their schedule included the campus’ annual Relay for Life event, pouring as many resources as he could into the fundraiser that directly helped advance cancer research.
“Wait, but why was junior year your favorite?” She asks, brushing her fingers over the cracked, screen-printed logo.
“Because that’s the reason we became friends, Sher.”
Surprised green eyes meet sincere brown eyes, a thousand words said in the silence of their stares, both remembering the lead-up to that day in April so many years ago.
Bradley’s eyes widen in panic as everyone at the gate starts moving as a herd. They had finally found seats to relax in after changing, the group of passengers waiting with them shrinking as time went on. And now, with only ten minutes until boarding, their gate has changed again.
“Sherrie, wake up!” He feels bad shaking the snoozing woman off, but they have to move with the group to make it to the new part of Terminal A in time for their flight. “C’mon, honey, they changed the gate again — we gotta go!”
“What are you- again?! Shit!” She wipes the bleariness from her eyes, slinging her bags over her shoulder and grabbing the hand he holds out.
The two coworkers, along with fifty of their fellow passengers who have stuck this out, speed walk down the first branch of the terminal. The entire group picking up the pace when turning the corner towards the second branch where the new gate lives. By the time they hit the second branch, everyone is practically running — time ticking down to boarding — no one wanting to miss this flight.
As if the blob of Flight 1121 passengers racing toward the end of the terminal didn’t garner attention from other gates, the entire terminal is staring by the time they reach gate A28, and several people start yelling in frustration.
“This is unbelievable!” An older gentleman’s unhappiness is interrupted by three simultaneous updates pinging everyone’s phones.
Bradley’s head drops back in disbelief, wrapping his arm around Sherrie when her head thunks against his chest. He doesn’t even get a chance to comfort her before the gate agents are making announcements about getting people on other flights, providing hotel rooms, and the vouchers that will be shared.
“Again, we apologize, but if you have flexible travel plans, we ask that you please go to the end of the line so those with time constraints can be taken care of first. Thank you for your cooperation, folks!”
“Well, that’s us, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Sherrie blows air out of her lips, a mischievous smile taking over her face. “Hey, at least this means extra per diem money.”
Bradley laughs as they move to the back of the squiggly line that’s forming, letting her take the bags so he can step away to call to update their supervisor and then his pet sitter. It only takes a few rings for his boss to pick up. “Bradshaw! What’s up? You okay?”
“Hey Martin, all good. Just wanted to let you know that our flight has gotten supremely delayed. We won’t be home until tomorrow morning sometime.”
“Jesus, do you guys need anything?”
“Nah, we’re good. The airline is putting us up in a hotel for the night and giving vouchers for a bunch of stuff. Just called to let you know and for a heads up on the expense report.”
“Well, that is the most important part!” Martin’s honking laugh makes Bradley chuckle as he glances to check on Sherrie’s progress in line. “How’s Sherrie? She good?”
“Yeah, she’s good. She’s holding our spot in line for getting new tickets and stuff.” And it looks like she’s made friends already, he silently adds, smiling at her interacting with the elderly couple in front of her.
“Good. Alright then, I’ll see you on Monday, but let me know if you guys need anything. And hey! If you two end up in the same hotel room — remember what I said on your first day!”
The line goes dead, and so does Bradley’s smile, his stomach churning like it does every time he remembers his first day at the Wells Corporation.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007 | 11:15 AM EST | Boston, MA
“Will you calm down?”
“I can’t, Bradley. What if no one likes me? What if I fuck up?!” She hisses, working to appear calm as they wait for their supervisor to show up, but failing.
“First of all, we’re starting together, so you have at least one person that likes you. And you’re great, everyone will like you. Second, there will be mistakes, but we just graduated — they’re not going to let us do anything alone because we don’t know anything yet.”
Sherrie nods, tucking her hands under her legs and trying to breathe. Bradley’s words are encouraging, but he doesn’t know how difficult her internship was last summer. The older engineers she shadowed treated her like a glorified coffee girl and secretary. Even when she had pointed out a mistake they all had missed, there was no change — just the addition of making her type their reports to see if she could catch something the non-engineer tech writers would miss.
This is a brand new company, but misogyny wasn’t unique to Waite Green Construction. Every woman has to work twice as hard to prove her worth and intellect, no matter her age or experience. She’s just hoping her onboarding mentor will be the only other woman in the department; it would be the perfect way to gain a professional mentor once she’s out of the probation period.
“Good morning, kids! How was orientation?” Mr. Teresi walks into the conference room.
Bradley shakes his hand first, “It was good, sir. Nice to see you again.”
“Good to hear! Learn lots of new things.”
“Yes, I think we can be considered experts on trade secrets now.” Sherrie jokes, focusing on making sure her handshake is firm but not too firm.
“Wonderful. So, I’m guessing you two have been introduced, but just in case you haven’t. Bradley, this is Sherrie McHone; she’s an electrical engineer. And Sherrie, this is Bradley Bradshaw, a mechanical engineer.”
“We actually went to school together, sir.”
“We’re friends,” Bradley adds, the two of them exchanging small smiles.
“Oh, great! Well, that makes things easier getting started. Now let’s go over my plan for the two of you, and then we’ll get lunch, my treat for your first day.”
Their supervisor talks for half an hour, going over things they’ll need to be trained in and their first assignments. By the time he’s done, several notebook pages have been filled and highlighted with things that need to be looked up.
“Alright!” The older engineer claps, rubbing his hands together. “I’m sure your brains are overloaded with information, so go drop your things at your desks, and we’ll head to lunch.”
The recent graduates gather their notes and head for the door, quietly talking about a training they’ll be attending next week when he stops them. “One more thing, guys. They never mention it during R&D orientation, but I feel it’s necessary to mention it to new people. Here at Wells, there isn’t a fraternization policy among non-management coworkers or between any employees in different divisions. But we are a fairly small department, so keep in mind who you interact with and what impacts that may have at work.”
Sherrie feels the blood drain from her already pale face as her brand new supervisor stares at her the entire time he speaks, ignoring Bradley completely. She’s going to be sick. Less than four hours into the first professional role of her career, and it’s already happening.
This is the moment it starts, she thinks, her heart pounding in her throat as she robotically nods. It’s never the men that get these warnings. It’s always the women. Always us. Always me.
“I don’t care about that. But there are some people who will, even though they shouldn’t. And I want you guys to have the best experience here you possibly can. You’re both extremely bright, and I’m excited about your futures. I don’t want you to get bogged down by the opinions of others. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.” They answer in unison before filing out of the conference room.
“Sherrie, don’t worry about that. He’s just-”
“Trust me, Bradley. I know exactly what he was saying. I’m going to use the restroom, and then I’ll meet you guys at the elevator.”
“Sherrie…”
But she ignores her friend, shrugging her purse over her shoulder and keeping her face neutral as she heads for the single-stall ladies’ room. Fighting to hold the tears back until she’s inside for fear of being perceived as emotional. A quality no woman can afford to have in a professional setting.
Friday, July 15, 2016 | 8:05 PM EST | Charlotte, NC
“Hey, everything? Martin says hi.”
“We’re good! This is Mr. and Mrs. Ludden; they’re going to visit their newest granddaughter. How’re Sophie and Louis?” Bradley smiles at the excited way she introduces them, putting a steadying hand on her back when she bounces up on her toes.
“Oh, congrats! They’re good; Marie can watch’em one more day, problem.”
“Good, we’ll have to get her a thank you present for the short notice.”
“You didn’t tell us you guys had kids!”
Bradley and Sherrie freeze in place, eyes widening in surprise at the older woman’s words.
“Oh- uh- we-” Sherrie giggles awkwardly. “Sophie and Louis are our cats; we don’t have kids.”
“I’m so sorry!” Mrs. Ludden gasps, hand covering her mouth in shock while her husband groans her name.
“Louise, how many times do we have to do this before you stop making assumptions?”
“It’s okay, innocent mistake,” Bradley assures them.
“Well, they’re such a cute couple. I just thought they would have adorable children, too!”
“Actually… we’re not…”
“Oh, lord. Let me guess. You’re not dating. You’re just friends.”
“Coworkers too, but we were friends first.” Sherrie suppresses a laugh when the older gentleman rubs a hand over his eyes in exasperation.
“Don’t even start, Clayton!”
“I wasn’t going to, dear.”
Bradley can’t help the laugh that escapes at the comfortable ribbing they give each other; it reminds him of his friendship with Sherrie. The easy way they tease, never going too far.
“Would you two like to join us after we get rebooked?” Bradley asks. “We’re going to use our food vouchers tonight to grab dinner before we head to whatever hotel they put us up in.”
The four adults move through the line, chatting about small things and comparing pictures of grandkids and cats. It’s a nice way to spend the time, especially when they get to share judging looks when a woman throws a tantrum and yells at the gate agent. But soon enough, they’re walking back to the main concourse and deciding what food to get.
“No, stop. You just sit here with the bags, and I’ll grab the food.” Bradley gently pushes Sherrie back into her chair, rolling his eyes as he talks over her protests. “I know. You want mac and cheese, Diet Coke, and whatever pulled pork flavor looks best.”
“He’s sweet,” Louise says, watching the two men make their way over to the BBQ place.
“He’s annoying.” Which makes her companion laugh. “Yes, he’s very sweet. I’m lucky to be such good friends with him.”
“Can I ask why the two of you aren’t together? He even knows what food to bring you.”
“It’s just never been like that between us. We’ve always just been friends. And he’s annoyingly smart, so he always remembers what I order.” Sherrie half smiles, pushing down the pain in her chest at the harmless curiosity, watching Bradley laugh at something Clayton says as she remembers the first time he remembered one of her favorites.
Saturday, March 4, 2006 | 1:34 PM EST | Charlottesville, VA
“Thanks for meeting me on a Saturday, Bradshaw. It’s just such a busy semester.”
“No problem. You know you can call me Bradley, right?”
“Oh, sorry. Do you not like being called Bradshaw?” Sherrie blinks when a bottle of Diet Coke and a small bag of Skittles is set on the table in front of her. “What’s this?”
“Your favorite snack.”
“Right… but why?”
“Because you have that about 50% of the time when we meet up to work on this project. Now, I finished transcribing the interview with Commander Buck last night. Did you want to- Sherrie?”
She shifts her focus from the food to the boy across from her in the study nook they’ve claimed as theirs for the semester. “Why do you remember my favorite snack?”
“Because we’re friends?” Brown eyes look into hers, equally confused.
“We’re friends?”
“I hope so; otherwise, this is gonna get awkward when you hug me in a minute.”
“Why am I going to hug you?!”
Bradley laughs at her flabbergasted expression, but it doesn’t hurt her feelings like it does when other people laugh at her. Something about the tone of the laugh makes it feel like he’s laughing at her, but rather with her, and she just doesn’t know the joke yet.
“Because as team captain, I am happy to announce to the Relay Chair that Sigma Chi has officially raised $5,000 thanks to your idea.”
“Bradley, that’s incredible!” She doesn’t feel silly when she bounces around the table to hug his neck, rocking them back and forth in excitement.
“Well, if you think that’s good - let me show you what we’re anticipating to raise this month…”
Friday, July 15, 2016 | 10:12 PM EST | Charlotte, NC
“I just don’t understand how we’re having such bad luck!”
Sherrie rolls her eyes as he unlocks the door. “Bradley, breathe. You’re being very dramatic right now.”
“How is “we’re out of rooms” a legitimate reason for the hotel to give? Not that I mind sharing with you, but like how is that possible? The airline specifically works with them to book rooms for things like this! And the airline! That gate agent who wanted to book us to fly into Hartford and then drive the rest of the way to Boston! That's insane!”
“I don’t know, the Bradley flying into Bradley joke was pretty funny.” She mutters, clicking the lights on as she checks the cleanliness of the room.
“It wasn’t.” Bradley pouts, flopping onto the bed closest to the door. “Do you want to shower first?”
“No, go ahead, but I’m going to wash my face first so I can do a face mask. I’m so dry from the airport air.” He listens to the sounds of water running and the quiet humming as she carefully applies the drenched sheet to her skin. “All yours!”
“Thanks, Sher. I won’t be long.”
He showers quickly but takes extra time cleaning his teeth, his mouth feeling gross after the long travel day. When he comes out, he’s surprised at how cozy the room feels. With only one lamp on, the air conditioning set low to keep the fan running, and an old movie on the TV, it almost feels like they could be at home in his living room. They silently move around each other, Sherrie heading to the bathroom with a pile of things while Bradley organizes his things for the morning, wanting to get as much rest as possible before their early alarm.
He scrolls through emails and texts while he waits for her to shower, turning the television off since he knows there’s a small chance of either of them making it five minutes after they kill the lights. He's updating Mav on tomorrow’s travel plans when Sherrie comes out of the bathroom, her hair wrapped in a towel. Bradley sees her packing things out of the corner of his eye, not fully paying attention until he plugs his phone in.
“That’s what you wear to bed?”
“Bradley!” He laughs at how she jumps, her hands coming down to cover her shorts.
“What? They’re cute! Very pink.”
Her face goes as pink as the pajama set she’s wearing. “Stop making fun of me!”
“I’m not! You know, I love strawberries.” He can’t help the way his eyes roam up and down her body, admiring from the spaghetti straps on her smooth shoulders to the scalloped edge of her shorts. “I see why you didn’t want to change into those at the airport.”
“Oh my god…” She huffs, climbing into her own queen bed and stuffing herself under the sheets. “You set an alarm, right?”
“Yes, ma’am. Want me to turn the light off?”
“Please. God, this day cannot be over soon enough.”
He chuckles and turns the lamp off, listening to her shuffle around in the sheets as she gets comfortable. It’s quiet for a few minutes, and he can hear her breathing leveling out, but he can’t keep quiet; the conversation at the airport running through his mind.
“Sher?” It takes a second, but she quietly hums in response. “We have to talk about it again.”
“No, we don’t.”
“Sherrie-”
“No, Bradley. We talked about this two weeks ago. Nothing has changed since then.”
“Yes, things have changed since then. You interviewed for that principal engineer position. Which if you get-”
“I’m not going to get it. They’re going to pick Trevor.”
“They’re going to pick you. You’re the best person for the job!”
“That’s not how it works, and you know it.”
He’s silent, the crushing weight on his chest feeling heavier when he hears her sniffle.
“Oh, Sherrie…” He slips out of his bed and into hers, wrapping the woman he loves in his arms. He lets her cry, knowing she’s frustrated and exhausted, only speaking up again when she’s calmed down. “I’m sorry, honey.”
“No, I’m sorry, Bradley. It’s not fair that we’ve been dancing around this for so many years, and I keep saying no. You deserve someone who isn’t afraid to be with you. Not a coward like me.”
“You’re not a coward; you’re one of the bravest people I know, Sherrie Anne McHone. I know how critical people are of women, in this field especially. And I love you, so I don’t mind waiting until we’re in a position that you’re confident won’t jeopardize your career. So, we’ll wait to hear about the job, and once you hear that you’ve gotten it, I’m treating you to the nicest dinner in Boston.”
“Bradley, we don’t know-”
“I know we don’t know. But think about how it would be if it does. Wouldn’t that be amazing?”
“But what about-”
“Doesn’t matter, honey.”
“You don’t even know what I was gonna say.” Sherrie mumbles, cuddling further into his side, making it clear that he wasn’t allowed to leave.
“I know, but it doesn’t matter, whatever it is — we’ll figure it out.”
Saturday, July 16, 2016 | 10:32 AM EST | Somewhere over Virginia
“She’ll take a ginger ale; thank you so much.” Bradley balances his apple juice, the two packets of Biscoff cookies, and the bubbling soda he got for Sherrie. The smiling flight attendant moves past their row as he turns to his row companion.
They’re finally on their way home after waking up to more delay announcements. The additional time meant there was time to get coffee and some fruit from the hotel before their taxi back to the airport arrived, and the Luddens had even stopped to chat for a second at the gate, excited that they had gotten bumped up to first class since the flight was nearly empty.
All things considered, it had been a good morning even though Sherrie was insisting on working during the flight. Bradley is sure it’s an attempt to ignore their talk from last night, not wanting to dwell on the emotional moment when things are still so up in the air.
He looks over at the woman he’s known since he was eighteen, overwhelmed for a moment by how little things have changed since the first time he ever noticed her. Bradley fondly watches as she furiously types, hunched over her laptop with headphones, playing what he knows is eighties hair bands.
Her nose wrinkles in frustration, and suddenly it’s 2003 again, and he’s trying to get the attention of the red-haired girl whose table has the only empty chair left, something he desperately needs since this book can’t leave the library. He’s unable to get her attention and resorts to knocking on the table, heart skipping a beat when the prettiest green eyes he’s ever seen blink up at him. Bradley gestures at the empty chair, silently asking if he can sit, and is grateful when she nods because her smile is making his knees wobble. For the next hour, he tries to take notes for his paper, but he keeps getting distracted by the beautiful girl across from him. Bradley isn’t sure if he’s upset or happy when she packs up her stuff and leaves, giving him a little wave when she notices him watching her.
That had been thirteen years ago, and her intense focus still distracts him, but he’s not afraid to interrupt her this time. Fingers rub her arm that is covered in his sweatshirt again, but this time, he knows it smells like her shampoo instead of his cologne. Her smile still sends his heart skipping when she looks up at him, her pretty eyes widening in joy when she catches sight of the red snack packaging and the plastic cup holding her second favorite soda.
“Thank you!” She whispers, leaning across the empty middle seat in their row to kiss his cheek. “Oh, and we should go out to lunch when we get back! I want to try that new noodle place that opened in Southie.”
He just smiles when she immediately gets back to work; cheek puffed out from the cookie she stuffed in her mouth.
Maybe she’s not avoiding our talk from last night.
Thursday, August 11, 2017 | 2:15 PM EST | Boston, MA
“You got a minute?” Bradley knocks on the edge of her cubicle. It may be a different floor of their building, but all of the office space is the same dated stuff from decades ago.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“First of all…” He ducks down and presses a swift kiss to her plush mouth, still trying to make up for all those years he couldn’t. “And don’t say anything because I already checked before I did because I wanted to kiss my girl.”
He chuckles at the pink spots that shine on her cheeks. It’s been a year since Sherrie snagged the promotion, and they officially became an item, but she still turns a little red whenever he says something sweet.
“Second, you are all packed, right?”
“Yes, why?”
“I was gonna swing by the apartment and get our bags so we can head straight to the airport after work.”
“You took the afternoon off? Why?”
Bradley was expecting this question and smoothly fibs. “I worked the hours out with Martin for this week so I could run a few last-minute errands. Do you want me to grab snacks?”
“Okay, Mr. Secrets. When you’re at home, could you water the ivy? I forgot this morning, and I don’t want it to die while we’re gone.”
“Of course! Need me to do anything else?”
Sherrie hums, staring at the ceiling as she thinks. “One more kiss?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Bradley happily complies with her request.
“Okay, now you have to go. I have to finish prepping for this meeting where I get to yell at Sean.”
“That’s my girl. I’ll pick you up later. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Have fun with your mysterious errands.” Sherrie teases, and Bradley smirks back, knowing how much she would be freaking out if he knew what he would be doing while she professionally reamed out their least favorite colleague.
“Thanks, honey. Text me if you think of something.” Sherrie waves over her shoulder, already zoned back into her work.
Bradley doesn’t dare look at his buzzing phone until he’s safely on the elevator, pleased to see confirmation texts from their hotel and the airline. Would it be cheesy to quietly propose in the airport that was a catalyst in their relationship? Maybe, but he knew Sherrie would love it. He’s just hoping the TSA didn’t call out the ring that would be hiding in his carry-on.
#deltasupremacy I also want to give a special thanks to @sometimesanalice, who gave so much encouragement through the texts despite having no idea what I was writing - you're the best! tagged some friends and most those who interacted with the original announcement post for this fic all those months ago!
tagging: @gretagerwigsmuse @sometimesanalice @laracrofted @theharddeck @hangmanbrainrot @hangmanssunnies @thesewordsareallihavetogive @princessphilly @katieshook02 @atarmychick007 @kmc1989 @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @misfitpeach @luckyladycreator2 @scarlettwidow19 @mini-bee-bee @midnightstarqueen @shamelessghostwagonwobbler
divider credit
#top gun maverick fic#top gun fic#bradley bradshaw fic#rooster fic#top gun maverick au#top gun maverick imagine#top gun au#top gun imagine#bradley rooster bradshaw fic#bradley rooster bradshaw x oc#bradley bradshaw x oc#bradley bradshaw imagine#rooster imagine#elle writes
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Reaper- B. Bradshaw
pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x pilot!female "Reaper"
word count: 4.6k
request?: yes
warnings: arguments, cursing, top gun shit, smutty, pregnancy, death.
synopsis: There are some fears from the past that Bradley can't quite shake. But is your love enough to change things for the future?
Being called back to Top Gun was never in your deck of cards. You knew that being the best of the best meant that you were always on the Navy’s radar. You were one of the three pilots with a confirmed shot in the past thirty years. You were called ‘Reaper’ for the kill and the fact that you were basically soulless. You didn’t care much about anyone else but yourself. You were a team player in the sky when you had to be, but on land, it was every man for themselves. Except, when it came to Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw.
You met Bradley at flight school years prior and had hit it off hot and heavy. Your very first interaction ended with you naked in his bed. That’s how every off base interaction went with the two of you. Drinks, laughs, slight glances, secret touches and hoping to avoid everyone's eyes as you both walked to Bradley’s bronco and drove to his barracks room. It had gone on for weeks now, even prior to being stationed at Top Gun.
You didn’t even think anything of it. You summed up your late menstrual cycle to the stress of flying and the mission at hand. Your cycle had always been a little off, the flying at supersonic speed didn’t help. The last thing to ever cross her mind was that she could be pregnant. She had always been careful, she knew that there was no room for children at this point in her career. She was just getting started, she was in top condition, was the top of her class, didn’t have anything holding her back from being sent around the world to do god knows what. But here she was, standing over the small bathroom sink in her barracks room, covering her mouth with her hand as she sobbed.
This could not be happening. Not a day before she was to board a carrier and be taken to the middle of the ocean to possibly be chosen for one of the most dangerous missions of the century. She knew exactly who’s baby it was too. Someone who also didn’t want children. You and Bradley had talked about it one night, as you were coming down from your highs, you had asked him about kids. You had shared that you wanted kids at some point, but you could wait for a bit on them. But Bradley, he wanted nothing to do with kids.
— — —
“You don’t ever want to know the feeling of holding your own newborn, soft and fresh into the world, against your chest, their big eyes looking at you like you are the only care in the world. You don’t want that feeling?” You had asked him, playing his fingers as you laid on his chest. Bradley sighed, and kissed the top of your head.
“I also don’t want another kid growing up in this world without a father. Or having to stand beside their weeping mother and trying to understand why dad isn’t ever coming back. Or having to grow up and be the man of the house.” Bradley responded.
You gulped, closing your eyes as Bradley’s words hit your heart. You knew he had fears about his career, every time he left the carrier it could very much be his last time. You also shared the same fears as him. You feared never coming back, never seeing your mom or your friends or even Bradley again. . But you never knew this fear of his. This one, was something dark and rooted deep within him. You opened your eyes and looked at his brown ones, seeing tears well up in his eyes.
“Roos-”
“Nah,” He sniffled, “It’s old ghosts and shit. I don’t want to talk about it. Not right now, not with you, in my bed. . . naked.”
“I am,” You said and rolled on top of him. His hands went straight to your hips. You two hadn’t bothered to get dressed after the last time you had sex. There was nothing in between the two of you, and you could feel his cock already getting hard. You leaned down, pressing kisses to his neck, as you ground your hips lazily against his.
“Fuck, keeping doing that and I’ll cum against my stomach like some teenage boy.” Bradley moaned, tangling his fingers in your hair, pulling your head back. He crashed his lips to yours, and you lifted your hips slightly, and lined him up with your entrance. You sunk down on him slowly, feeling a slight burn as he stretched you, “Still tight every single time.” Bradley grunted as you took him in completely.
“Oh fuck,” You moaned and started moving up and down in his lap. His hands roamed your body, bringing you closer to him, if that was even possible.
— — —
You had a lot of fears, one of them being the fact you have been flying at supersonic speed and flipping upside down. You had no idea what kind of damage you could’ve been doing to the unborn baby in your uterus. You went directly to the medical wing that morning, getting a quick physical and paperwork for a profile. You were quite shocked when the doctor told you that you were 6 weeks along, but everything looked good, which was a small weight off your shoulders.
The next thing was to board the carrier and talk to Maverick. You knew he would be deciding on who are the other five aviators that go with him on the mission tomorrow. You also knew that Maverick would choose you and Rooster. If there was anyone Maverick trusted more than Iceman and Goose, it was you and Rooster. You had worked with Maverick in Lemoore, and before you, Maverick had worked with your old man while in Iraq. You were a good pilot, and Maverick knew that.
The flight deck was quiet as you stood on it, the scent of salt water filling your senses, as you wrapped your jacket around you. You were half way in the middle of the pacific ocean right now, watching the sunset on the endless ocean. Usually, being on the flight deck alone brought you comfort, it was your quiet place to think, but your mind was running a mile a minute. You were thinking of how you were going to tell Maverick not to pick you and the reason why. You thought about not telling him, about waiting to see if he would choose you, but you knew that you couldn’t even take the risk. It wasn’t just about you anymore.
Standing outside of Maverick’s office door, you took a deep breath. You knocked, and waited for him to call you in.
“Reaper,” Maverick said, looking at you shocked, “What’s up?”
“You can’t choose me.” You said.
“Wh-why?” Maverick said, and crossed his arms over his chest, looking rather upset. Were you backing out? Were you scared? You are the best ot the best, the top fighter pilot in the US Navy, and you are standing in front of him trying to-
“I’m pregnant,” You said, handing him the profile you had gotten from the doctor, “Six weeks.”
Maverick’s jaw dropped, looking you up and down, “You’ve been fly-”
“I got checked out this morning, and the doctor said everything looks okay. Not the first time this has happened in Naval history,” You laughed, looking at your hands, “I. . . I need you not to choose Bradley either.”
“What?”
“I can’t lose him,” You said looking at Maverick with tears in your eyes, “I can’t. I won’t.”
“This isn’t your decision to-”
“You’ve already robbed one child of their father, don’t be the cause of another one.”
You knew that hit low, that it was below the belt. Maverick’s jaw clenched as he looked at you. You looked away from him, not believing what you actually said to him. Maverick knew what you said was out of fear, but he also knew that he couldn’t promise that he wouldn’t choose Bradley. Instead, he just nodded and dismissed you, telling you that formation was on the lower deck at seven.
— — —
You stood in formation with the rest of your class, trying to stop your legs from shaking. You knew that Maverick wasn’t going to disobey the profile you had given him. He wasn’t going to put you or your baby in danger. He would’ve much rather you told him earlier and be sitting at home and not on the carrier in the middle of the pacific.
Maverick looked at his class as he stood in front of the formation. It had been a true honor to fly with all of them. To have a chance to share the sky with the best of the best. But now it was time to choose the other five aviators. Five of them, who might never make it home. It was a weight on Maverick’s chest as he spoke to all of them.
“Name your two foxtrot teams,” Cyclone commanded.
“Fanboy and Payback, Bob and Phoenix,” Maverick said. You saw the female look at her WSO and then glance behind her shoulder at you. You gave her a smile that quickly faded when she turned back around.
“And your other team lead?”
Maverick looked at you, almost as if to say ‘I choose you’ and then over at Bradley, “Rooster.”
You felt your stomach drop, and looked at Bradley, whose face was unreadable. Once you were dismissed, you went straight towards Maverick. You followed him down a hallway and once you thought you were out of earshot, you yelled to him.
“Did you not hear what I said?” You yelled.
“I did,” Maverick said, “I chose who I know is going to be the best pilot out there.”
“He’s going to be a father, Maverick!” You cried, feeling tears run down your cheeks, “Why the hell would you do that to him!? To me?! To us!?”
“You don’t get to dictate whether he flies or not!” Maverick yelled, “There is no one else I want to be up in the air with than him!”
“Him or Goose?” You said, smirking, “If this is some redemption move to make yourself feel better about what happened to his ol’ man-”
“At Least I won’t have the guilt of trying to ground him-”
You clenched your jaw, letting Maverick walk by you and down to his quarters. You placed your hands on your head, trying to catch your breath. Leaning up against the metal wall of the hallway, you let out a shaky breath. You knew the words you were saying were out of fear and Maverick did too. You just hoped he could forgive you.
“You tried to ground me?” You lifted your head and saw Rooster standing in the hallway near you.
“Brad-”
“Are you serious? You tried to ground me? For what? So you can go instead? So you can get another confirmation shot and prove that you really are true to your name.”
“It’s not like that-”
“Then what is it like!?” Bradley yelled, his voice echoing off the metal walls of the carrier’s hallway. Your mouth opened a couple times as you tried to gather your thoughts but Bradley shook his head, “Don’t. I’m turning in for the night. I got- yeah. . . “
You nodded and watched as Bradley walked away from you. You didn’t want this to be the cause of losing Bradley forever. You never imagined that this would be the thing that pulled you two apart. You sucked in a breath and pushed off the wall, going down to your quarters. You were sharing with Phoenix. She gave you a sad smile, as you two moved in silence, getting ready for bed.
Over the last three weeks you had gotten used to sleeping next to Bradley. After rolling around in the sheets, feeling his hands roam your body, his lips on yours, his body moving in sync with yours, you would fall asleep next to one another. It was easy to feel safe in his strong, warm embrace. But right now you felt cold as you laid awake, staring at the ceiling. Your hands went to your flat belly, caressing the skin with your thumbs. And on the other side of the boat, Bradley laid wide awake too.
— — —
The flight deck was busy the next morning, crew and aviators walking around doing checks on their planes. There was both excitement and fear in the air. You had only caught a glimpse of Bradley, deciding on keeping your distance so he could have one hundred percent focus on the task at hand. You checked in with your crew, getting pre-flight numbers and documenting them before Cyclone had called everyone to attention. Maverick hadn’t told Cyclone about your pregnancy, which was one of the only ways you were still allowed to suit up and wait in que in case shit hit the fan.
“Y/N,” You heard Bradley call to you as Cyclone dismissed you after giving the rundown once more, You looked at him and gave him a small smile. You two weren’t ever ones for PDA choosing to keep things professional, even before dangerous missions. You looked at him, taking in all his features, committing them all to memory in case this was the last time you ever saw him.
“Take me to bed or lose me forever,” He said to you and you smiled.
“Show me the way home, honey,” You said back to him, fighting back tears. Bradley nodded as his WO came over and got him ready for flight.
“I never understand you two,” Hangman said, as he climbed up into his jet, “You’re cold as ice and he’s soft as a marshmallow.”
“We offset each other,” You smile to yourself. You sit down in your seat, adjusting your straps and buckles. Your heart was in your ears as you listened to the dagger teams sign on.
“This is dagger two, copy, over,” Bradley’s voice filled your ears and you closed your eyes.
The deck waited with a baited breath as Cyclone gave the sign to start the mission. The second Maverick’s plane flew off the flight deck and you felt sick to your stomach. You closed your eyes, placing a hand on your stomach as you heard Rooster call and then depart the flight deck.
You sat still, listening to everything the control tower and the daggers were saying as they documented their flight. You listened as the four aircrafts made their way through the low valley, going undetected by the SAMS overhead waiting for them. You clenched your jaw as they called that two bandits had entered the airspace. Payback kept calling for Rooster to speed up, knowing that they would be sitting ducks for the bandits when they get to the target.
“Come on, Rooster, come on,” You said quietly to yourself.
“Talk to me, dad,” You heard Rooster whisper over the radio. You bit your lip, your hand finding your stomach once more. Hangman looked over at you, confusion on his face. You looked back up at him, and the look on your face answered his question. His mouth fell into an ‘o’ shape and he looked back out at the flight deck.
“Come on kid, don’t think, just do,” Maverick whispered back.
Bradley had found it in himself, completely clearing his mind and pushing the speed of his aircraft. You smiled, nodding as he caught up to Bob and Phoenix. You listened as he made the curves, keeping your eye on Maverick as well. You held your breath as Bob lined up the shot for Maverick. The second the missile was dropped and the target was hit, the deck seemed to let out a breath, but for only a second as the next missile was the most crucial.
“Line it up, Fanboy,” Rooster called out.
“I can’t! Dead eye, dead eye!” Fanboy responded, struggling to get his laser under control.
“I’m dropping blind,” Rooster said.
“Oh my god, please, please, please,” You prayed as you heard Rooster release his missile. There was a moment of complete silence and then a cheer as Rooster had hit the target, completely destroying the uranium plant, “Oh my god!” Hangman did a small dance in his seat and you laughed at him.
“Not home safe yet,” You could hear Cyclone say over the radio, “They’re in coffin corner.”
You closed your eyes as the radio was overrun with calls and orders from the aviators. You tried to watch and keep track of what was going on, but the second Rooster said he was out of flares, your heart stopped. You kept listening as Rooster called for help to shake two missiles that were on him.
“Dagger one is down! I repeat dagger one is down!” Phoenix called out.
You gasped, as you tried to wrap your head around what you had just heard. Maverick was gone. Just like that, the legend that you had heard about so much from Bradley and have seen work for the past couple weeks was dead. You felt tears well up in your eyes, as you hit the dash in front of you with your fists. You looked up at the sky, and prayed that Maverick had forgiven you for what you said.
“Permission for Dagger standby?” You said through clenched teeth. Hangman snapped his head over to you, shaking his head. It was silent for a moment, as you waited for your answer.
“Permission denied.”
You closed your eyes, letting the tears fall down your face. You wiped your cheeks with the back of your hand when you heard Rooster’s voice come in over the radio.
“Fuck it,” Rooster muttered.
“What- Rooster!” Phoenix yelled.
“Rooster?” You whispered to yourself.
You felt like vomiting, your helmet suddenly felt too tight around your head, and your vision got blurry as Rooster had turned his aircraft, going back towards where Maverick was shot down. You listened as Rooster reported what he was doing, going back to find Maverick. He had shot down a helicopter, spotting Maverick, but as he was trying to come back to the carrier, two missiles came directly for him.
“I’ve been hit!” Rooster yelled.
“No!” You cried.
“Dagger two, come in, dagger two!” The radio operator yelled. Nothing was heard but silence.
“I lost him,” You muttered, your eyes glassy with tears, “I just lost him. I-I lost-”
“Hey, Reaper!” Hangman yelled, “Hey, get her down! Now!” He yelled at some lower enlisted sailors.
You somehow got your straps undone, and found your way down the ladder of your aircraft. You threw your helmet somewhere as you stumbled over to the other side of your aircraft and threw up. Sobs racked your body as you heaved up whatever breakfast you had this morning. You looked up and covered your ears as Bob, Phoenix, Fanboy, and Payback were landing. You wanted to scream, you wanted to get into one of those F-18s and go find him yourself. But instead, Hangman came and hugged you, holding on to you tightly as though you might blow off the deck.
“He’s gone,” You whispered.
“It’s okay, It’ll be okay,” Hangman said, as you sobbed. You felt your knees give out, and he gripped your harder, helping you stay on your own two feet as Phoenix came running over to you, “Take her in. Get her something to drink.”
Phoenix nodded, as her and Bob wrapped an arm around you making sure you didn't pass out. The three of you made your way into the tower, you stood quietly in the back of the control room watching on the radar as they were waiting for the all clear to send apaches in to survey the area for Rooster and Maverick. You felt Phoenix grab your hand, you looked at her and she gave it a squeeze.
“Sir, Rooster’s signal just came back on,” One of the operators said.
“What?” Cyclone said, looking at the screen, “In what?”
“An F-14,” The operator reported.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Cyclone said.
“Sir, let me go, please,” You said looking at the admiral, “Let me go as Hangman’s backseater, please.”
Cyclone looked at you and nodded. You wasted no time running out of the tower and towards Hangman. He looked at you with wide eyes as you picked up your helmet you had discarded earlier and ran towards his plane.
“What the hell are you doing?” Hangman called out to you.
“I’m your new backseater,” You said, jumping on the wing and climbing into the back. You quickly strapped yourself in and Hangman looked at you like you had grown a third eye, “Are you going to look at me or take the chance to get your second confirmed shot?”
Hangman shook his head, “As long as I get to be godfather.”
“Let’s bring them home safe and you can tell Rooster that yourself,” You said.
Hangman smirked as he strapped his mask to his face, you doing the same. It never got easier taking off from the carrier and it felt even worse not being in front, letting Hangman have full reign of the plane. You said a small prayer, feeling your stomach drop as you hit the sky, being completely airborne. You searched the sky, looking for the F-14 and the bandit.
“On your three, Hangman.” You said and he nodded, turning right as he spotted the old jet. Your heart stopped, seeing Bradley look up at the sky, his face looking helpless. You placed your hand on the canopy, as if you were trying to reach out to him.
“Line the shot, Reap,” Hangman ordered. You nodded, taking your eyes off of Bradley and on the target at hand, the fifth generation flyer. You clenched your jaw, lining up the shot on your radar, “Deploying missile. . . now!”
“Kill those bitches,” You said, as he deployed the missile destroying the fighterjet, “Fuck yeah!”
“That’s number two!” Hangman cheered.
“One and a half,” You smirked, “Fly up next to them.” Hangman nodded, flying up next to them. You snapped your mask to your face and smirked seeing them, “Good afternoon aviators, this is your savior speaking.”
Bradley looked over and smiled seeing you, “Reaper, I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing I'm seeing you.”
“I told you I'd show you the way home,” You said.
“Alright, wait until I’m out of sight to make kissy faces at each other,” Hangman said, as you guys got closer to the flight deck.
The landing was smooth as Hangman dropped the jet in and skidded to a stop. You guys quickly dismounted the cockpit, Hangman helping you down. You quickly ran to where the net crew was, getting the stops out to catch Maverick’s plane. You got in where you could, grabbing on the net and helping to pull it straight across the flight deck. Hangman ran over to you, as Maverick flew by the tower, and gently grabbed your arm, pulling you out of the way. You held on to him as the plane came to a screeching halt. You didn’t even wait for the cockpit to open as you ran right over to where Rooster was getting out.
“Oh!” Rooster grunted as you hugged him the second his boots hit the deck. He hugged you back tightly, like this was a dream.
“I’m sorry,” You said lifting your head up, “I’m sorry I ever-”
“No,” Bradley shook his head, putting his hand on your cheek, “Don’t apologize. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I love-”
You cut him off, by placing a kiss on his lips. It was like no one else mattered in that moment. The deck erupted in cheers as the deckhands and crew came out to welcome Rooster and Maverick home. You two separated and smiled at the group around you, but Bradley kept his arm around you. Hangman walked over to you two, you looked between them as Hangman held his hand out to Rooster, Bradley looked at his hand, and quickly brought him in for a hug. You laughed and looked at Phoenix, bringing her in for a hug.
“What is this I hear about a potential god-mother spot?” Phoenix said to you.
“Shhh,” You smiled, “We’ll talk later. Maybe once we get off this fucking aircraft carrier.” Phoenix nodded and kissed your cheek before running off to go hug someone else. You smiled and looked around at the crowd, spotting someone else you need to apologize to, “Maverick!” You pushed your way through the crowd over to the older pilot, “Hey!”
“Reaper,” Maverick said.
“I’m sorry,” You said, “You saved his life-”
“And you saved mine,” Maverick said, “Consider it, even?”
“Even. . . grandpa,” You smirked and Maverick pointed at you with a smile on his face.
That night you finally slept soundly in Bradley’s arms.
— — —
The second most peaceful place for you was the ocean. The peaceful crash of the waves, the call of the seagulls, the softness of the sand. The morning air was quite cold as you sat in the sand, a blanket around your shoulders as you watched the waves crash against the sand. You and Bradley had spent last night together, getting reunited with one another, even though you weren’t apart for long. Bradley had taken his time, loving on you, feeling every inch of your body, loving every curve, every freckle, every scar. He wanted to commit your body to memory, over and over again. He was terrified he was going to die and never be able to tell you how he felt. So last night he made sure you knew just how much he loved you and you, him.
You tried pushing it to the back of your mind, but you knew that you had to tell him before anything else happened. It would absolutely break you to lose him, but you also knew how he felt about children. Yesterday, those minutes where you thought you had lost him were the worst moments of your life. You couldn’t think what it would’ve been like to come home to your child, a little boy or girl who would look so much like Bradley and have to explain what happened. But you also knew, you didn’t want to come home to a house without him.
“Snuck out on me,” Bradley said, walking up to you. You looked up at him as he came and sat next to you, “How are you feeling? Phoenix told me what happened after I-”
“I don’t want to talk about yesterday,” You said, looking down at your feet, buried in the sand, “I thought I lost you. I thought you were dead in the middle of some European mountain range and I would never find you. And your. . . your child would have to grow up not knowing who you are.”
“My-” Bradley looked down at you, “You’re pregnant?”
“I’m sorry,” You said looking at him, “I’m so sorry. I know how you-”
You were cut off by Bradley hugging you tightly. You sighed into him, your body shaking with tears. You felt Bradley nuzzle into your neck, and your hand went to the back of his head, holding him there as he too cried. He pulled back from the hug and looked down at your tummy. He let out a shaky breath as he tried to steady his shaking hands and placed it on your belly.
“There’s. . . There’s a baby in there?” He said through his tears, “I’m gonna be a dad.”
“You’re gonna be a dad.”
Bradley looked up at you, his brown eyes filled with love, “I love you. And I’m never going to leave you alone. Either of you.” Bradley spoke to your belly.
“I love you too. We both love you.”
#top gun#top gun imagine#top gun fic#top gun fanfic#top gun x reader#rooster bradshaw imagine#rooster bradshaw#rooster bradshaw fic#rooster Bradshaw x reader#rooster bradshaw fanfic#bradley rooster bradshaw#Bradley rooster Bradshaw imagine#Bradley rooster Bradshaw x reader#Bradley rooster Bradshaw fic#Bradley rooster Bradshaw fanfic#Bradley Bradshaw imagine#Bradley Bradshaw fic#Bradley Bradshaw fanfic#Bradley Bradshaw x reader#hangman top gun#phoenix top gun#bob top gun
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Leavin’ On a Jet Plane [Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader]
Summary: did I pretty much just loosely follow the plot of Top Gun: Maverick? You bet I did. Or in other words--your new husband has just been called back to Top Gun for reasons unknown. Just a lil’ thing detailing those two weeks.
Warnings: swearing, mentions of death (rip to the best couple of all time, goose and carol), oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, maaaaaaaaaybe if you squint a tiny bit of breeding kink, it’s lots of build up and then just smut.
Word Count: 4.7k
Author’s Note: This is extremely self-indulgent. I haven’t posted a fic in over two years, so PLEASE be kind to me. Even though I am 27, I will cry if strangers on the internet are mean to me. Is all the info in it correct? No. Did I change a few things to make it suite my heart’s needs? Yes. Requests are always open and you can check out my masterlist here, which I’ll be updating shortly! Because there are plenty more Top Gun fics sitting in my brain lol
also big thanks to @bradshawsbaby and @callsignbob for their fics being so amazing that it kicked my ass back into writing fics
Three weeks.
It certainly wasn’t the longest you’d ever been apart, but still–it was three weeks. Watching your husband toss his bags in the back of his Bronco had that familiar pang pulsing in your chest, and you tried not to frown as you leaned against the doorframe.
“Hey now, you know I hate that look,” Rooster cooed as he came back up the front steps of your small, shared home. He stayed a step or two lower than you, so the two of you were pretty much the same height, and he bumped your nose with his own.
“It’s three weeks, baby. I’ll call you every night. Text you every second I can,” he promised, his arms moving to wrap around your waist as he pulled you up against his chest, pressing soft kisses to your jutted bottom lip in quick succession.
Truthfully, you weren’t upset about the length. Like he said, three weeks wasn’t horrible. What really had you worried was the fact that he’d been recalled to Top Gun at all. They barely gave the pilots any information, which meant that your husband could tell you even less–and you didn’t care for it in the slightest. Going back to Top Gun could only mean one thing–something was happening and they needed the best and the brightest.
“I know you will,” you sniffled, and you tried your best to put a smile on, if only for Rooster’s sake. “Just don’t want you forgettin’ about me while you’re gone,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood in just the slightest.
Your smile became genuine when Bradley gave a dramatic role of his eyes and clutched at his chest playfully. “You think I’d forget about you?! About this?!,” he scoffed, reaching around to grab a handful of your ass and give it a squeeze as you squealed with laughter. “You must not know me at all, Mrs. Bradshaw.”
Six months of marriage hadn’t changed the way that made your stomach flip–hearing yourself referred to as “Mrs. Bradshaw” had your cheeks dusting a light pink, and you bit your bottom lip lightly.
“Alright, Lieutenant Bradshaw. You better call me, then. And you–,” you stopped briefly, swallowing a little thickly at your next words. “You better come home to your wife.”
Rooster stiffened a bit at that, placing his hands on the sides of your face and letting his thumbs brush lightly over your cheekbones. “Hey,” he whispered, pressing your foreheads together and taking a deep breath. He’d never make a promise to you he couldn’t keep–he knew that better than anyone.
“I will do everything I can to come home to you. Okay?”
You just nodded at his words, leaning in to give him a long, passionate kiss, your fingers tangling in his loose, unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt as you kept him close. The two of you continued to kiss for a few minutes, just clinging to each other before you finally pulled away, sliding his aviators on his nose for him, the sun just coming up over the horizon.
“You’ve got a long ride, Roos,” you murmured, giving him one more kiss before smoothing his hair back against his head. Rooster was stationed at Naval Air Station Lemoore, in Lemoore, California. It was a cute, quiet little military town, and while the two of you missed the coast something terrible, you were content with the little community you’d built for yourselves. Bradley had decided he’d enjoy the five hour drive down to North Island instead of flying (something about ‘not enjoying a plane ride when he’s not the one piloting’) so here you were, staring at his Bronco and wishing you were going to be camped out in the passenger seat.
“Yeah, I gotta get goin’,” he whispered in return, giving you one more searing kiss before he was pulling away and giving you that signature Bradshaw grin. Before you could even properly miss him, he was in the car, turning on the engine and rolling down the window as he was backing out of the driveway. Once he was parallel with the street, he shouted at the top of his lungs, “I love you, Mrs. Bradshaw!,” and laid on the horn, whooping and hollering. You couldn’t help but just laugh, knowing the neighbors were certainly awake now, if they weren’t already. You just blew him a kiss and watched him drive off into the sunrise, and quietly hoped these three weeks would go by quickly.
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The first day was always the hardest. Work couldn’t even take your mind off of the fact that you’d be going home to an empty house, so you just moped around the office and immediately got into the bath the second you were home. You were thankful for a quick phone call from Rooster that night, but it was mostly drowned out by noise from The Hard Deck, and you urged him to go have fun with his friends on their first night there. They rarely got nights like those anymore, and they deserved them.
You were at lunch the next day, casually scrolling through Instagram while you ate your sandwich, when suddenly Bradley’s picture filled the screen (it was one of him in black and white, wearing his sunglasses in bed the morning after his latest birthday) and you answered the phone call quickly.
“Hiya honey,” you beamed, cradling the phone to your ear as you took another bite of your sandwich. “How’s your first day?”.
“Baby, why don’t you come down here, huh?,” Rooster practically cut you off, voice sounded just slightly strained and in a hushed tone. “God, it’s beautiful in San Diego. You love it here–it’s only three weeks. I’ll get ya a hotel room and you can make it a vacation. Whatdya say?,” he asked, and for some reason, it felt more like he was begging you to come and stay with him, versus suggesting a fun little trip.
“Bradley, what’s wrong?,” you asked automatically, sitting up straighter in your chair.
“Nothin’!,” he almost squeaked out, and he could tell by your silence that you didn’t believe that for a single second.
He was quiet for what felt like an eternity, but was probably only half a minute. He cleared his throat, and you thought you even heard a soft sniffle.
“It’s Maverick,” he whispered, taking a deep breath. “He’s the instructor.”
Your heart immediately sank into your stomach, and you clung even tighter to your phone. You knew exactly what that meant. You’d never met Captain Mitchell yourself, only heard the stories from Bradley. The story of him pulling his papers. The story of how his father had been in the plane with the other pilot when he died. The only version you’d ever seen of your husband and Maverick’s relationship had been a non-existent one. The two had successfully avoided each other for years–now only to be forced to not only work together, but for Rooster to learn from him.
“Oh, honey,” you whispered, running your hands through your hair and sighing softly. There was nothing Bradley could do. This was Top Gun, and it was the military. They didn’t just let you go somewhere else because you didn’t like your teacher.
“I can’t do it–I can’t do it alone, Y/N,” he whispered into the phone, hands trembling slightly as he gripped it tightly in his hand, bent over in the chair he was currently sitting in.
“It’s three weeks, baby. I can’t just take off work. They’d–”
“Please.”
Your mind was made up before he even finished the word.
“Alright. I’ll go talk to Craig about seeing if I can work remotely the next few weeks, okay?,” you told him softly, wishing you could reach through the phone to hold him gently. “I’ll let you know when my flight lands. I love you,” you whispered.
“Thank you,” he sobbed softly, and a beep let you know the phone call had ended.
—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The first flight that didn’t cost you an arm and a leg left the next morning at ten-thirty, and you were looking out the window at the approaching ocean with a mixture of emotions bubbling in your chest. While it had only been two days, you were already excited to see Bradley. His goofy grin, his strong arms. But you know a lot of this trip was going to be navigating the treacherous waters of the past, and you had forgotten your life vest back on shore. The two of you never did dig too deep into the passing of Rooster’s father, and certainly not the loss of having Maverick in his life. That topped with the loss of his mother as well, you knew the next few weeks would certainly be emotional.
But for now, you were just thankful to have an understanding boss that allowed you to work remotely for the next few weeks (you might have added in a few tears and used the ol’ military wife card). The plane jolted to a stop once it hit the runway, and you made your way out of there as quickly as possible.
You grabbed your bags from baggage claim and walked outside, sliding on your sunglasses and trying to look at the row of cars in search of a free taxi. Bradley was due to be at Top Gun all day, so you were just going to go to your hotel and check in, check a few emails, and then hopefully get to have dinner with your loving husband that night. But right as you were turning towards the row of taxis, you spotted a familiar looking Bronco, with a familiar looking man in a jumpsuit sitting on the hood.
“Two days, and you already don’t recognize your husband?,” Rooster shouted as he jumped down, running over and picking you up in his arms and spinning you around as you squealed.
“What are you doing here?! Shouldn’t you be in class?!,” you asked him, adoring every kiss he placed all over your face before he finally settled on your lips with a soft hum, his fingers digging into the fabric of your shorts as he pulled you closer.
“Lunch,” was all he mumbled, fingers sliding up into your hair and keeping the two of you pressed together until you were both gasping for breath.
“Thank you,” Rooster whispered, and you didn’t need to hear those words, but appreciated them nonetheless. He never asked you for a thing–Bradley Bradshaw did everything in the world for you and never once expected anything in return. So when he asked you for something this one time? You would have dropped the world for him.
“Of course, baby,” you murmured in return, stroking his cheek lightly and giving him one more kiss. “Now, you drop me off at the hotel and I’ll be waiting for you tonight when you’re done. Deal?,” you grinned with a wiggle of your eyebrows, wanting to see that smile again.
It did the trick. Rooster let out a loud laugh, keeping one arm wrapped around your waist as he led you to the car.
“Yes ma’am!”
—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The next two weeks went by fairly quickly. You spent every moment you could with Rooster, listening to him rant about a particularly tough day, drinking at The Hard Deck with his fellow aviators, or just holding him in the wee hours of the morning while he slept with pitiful whimpers of his father and mother’s names on his lips.
Then one night, Bradley came home with a sad smile on his lips, and you knew that they’d been given final confirmation of their mission.
“We leave in the morning, 0500,” he murmured against your skin that night, fingertips lazily drawing circles on the small of your back.
You attempted to not to act as petulant as you felt, just nodding and biting at your bottom lip, trying not to cry. You understood Bradley’s job the moment you met him. He was a pilot, and sometimes he went on missions, but most of his job was relatively fine. This wasn’t World War II. He wasn’t running off to a far away land knowing he’d never come home. We weren’t even at war with anyone, for Christ’s sake. At least, that’s what you had told yourself to make it all easier.
But instead, you found yourself having to accept the fact that this might very well be the last time you ever see the love of your life, and before you could even try to keep it together, you were burying your face in Bradley’s chest and sobbing.
“I know, darlin’. I know,” was all he whispered, hands rubbing slowly along your spine as he just hummed softly under his breath, trying his best to comfort the both of you. But his words felt like white noise in your ears, just a dull roaring that seemed to drown everything out as you found yourself staring at the alarm clock on the nightstand that was blinking red every few moments.
You had managed to calm down, and husband and wife lay in silence for a few minutes, the heaviness that filled the air laid across the two of them like a weighted blanket.
“I was supposed to be the one taking care of you down here,” you sniffled, a tiny smile on your lips as you turned to look up at Rooster, your chin resting on his sternum.
His pearly whites peeked out from under his mustache, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.
“You always do.”
—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Four in the morning was there before you knew it, and it seemed that Rooster couldn’t sleep either. He was already up and in the process of getting dressed when the alarm went off, soft music playing from the shitty radio/alarm clock on the nightstand. You recognized the tune quickly as Leavin’ On a Jet Plane by Peter, Paul, and Mary. What a sick joke.
You sat up in bed and rubbed at your red, tired eyes, feeling smaller than you ever had. It was as if the room suddenly felt five times bigger, and the mattress was going to swallow you up.
“When will–When will I know you’re back?,” you whispered, voice thick with both emotion and sleep.
Bradley sat down next to you on the edge of the bed, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and letting it lazily twirl around his finger. “It’s not supposed to be any longer than ninety-six hours, there and back. We’re in, we’re out,” he murmured, hating that that was the only information he could give you. You just nodded in understanding, moving to crawl into his lap, arms draping around his neck as you clung to him.
“You come home to me, do you understand?,” you whispered, fingers clutching the material of his shirt. “Because if you don’t, Rooster, I swear to God, I’m going to go to whatever fucking country you’re in, and bring your ass back myself,” you added, and you could feel your love smiling against you neck.
“Yes ma’am, Mrs. Bradshaw,” he whispered in return, and suddenly you felt something drip onto your shoulder, and felt Rooster’s chest tremble a bit before he pulled back. “It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay,” he added, leaning in to give you a loving, passionate kiss, one that reminded you of the early days of your relationship, when he’d kiss you good night like he was afraid in the morning, he would have only dreamt you.
You finally pulled away, wiping away his tears as he wiped away your own, and you moved to sit down on the bed, arms wrapping around yourself as he got up and grabbed his bag.
“I love you, Mrs. Bradshaw,” he said once more. You blinked, and he was gone.
The sob that ripped through your lips was loud enough to echo into the hall, and it would stay with Bradley Bradshaw forever.
—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Towards the end of the fourth day, you were sitting at the bar of The Hard Deck, miserably staring out at the ocean and lazily sipping at your Diet Coke, not even bothering to take the straw out of your mouth between sips.
“Y/N,” Penny said gently as she walked over, leaning over and letting her elbows rest on the wood. “They’ll be home soon. Believe me, if something was wrong they would have–,” she stopped herself, sometimes forgetting that being familiar with the Navy for her whole life could make her a little jaded to situations.
“They would have already sent someone to tell me he’s dead. Yeah. I know,” you shot back, and the instant the words left your lips, you winced at your tone. You just turned and reached out your hand, taking hers and giving it a soft squeeze. “Sorry,” you whispered, a tight smile stretched across your lips.
“You’ve got nothin’ to be sorry for,” she assured you, squeezing your hand in return. “It’s tough. It never gets any easier.”
The two of you managed to get your minds off of your boys for another hour or so, Penny telling you about how she was going to take Amelia out on a boat ride once she got out of school, before you decided you’d at least try and get some rest back in your hotel room. You had just parked Rooster’s Bronco in a space outside of your hotel when a Naval Alert popped up on your phone:
USS LANGLEY ARRIVAL TIME: 1600
“Oh my god. Oh my fucking GOD,” you gasped, immediately turning the car back on and practically flying down the Coronado Bridge and making your way to North Island. There was already a small crowd of family and friends standing around, and it was moments like this you were reminded that it wasn’t just Rooster and the pilots that were gone. It was an entire ship full of people whose families were waiting for them.
You nervously paced around for awhile, making small talk with some other wives around you, before someone started shouting they could see the ship. It was then that everyone’s voices started to get a bit louder, and there was an energy surrounding everyone that had your heart pounding in your chest.
What felt like three hours later, there was a chorus of cheers when the first group of men and women came off of the aircraft carrier. You could barely see over the group in front of you, and you decided to climb up one of the small fences, holding on tight and straining your eyes as you searched each and every face.
“Mrs. Bradshaw!,” a voice boomed from about thirty feet in front of you. “Get your ass down from there and come kiss your husband!”
“Bradley!,” you practically screamed, jumping down and sprinting through the throngs of people before you slammed against Rooster’s chest, lunging up and kissing him roughly.
“You’re okay,” you whispered, kissing him over and over, tasting the salt from the ocean on his skin.
“I missed you so fuckin’ much, baby,” he breathed out, as if he’d been holding his breath ever since the morning he left you.
“God, I fucking missed you,” you agreed, finally opening your eyes to see his face covered in scrapes that looked as if they were beginning to scab over.
“What–?”
“Hey,” he stopped you quickly, taking both of your hands in his and kissing your knuckles lovingly. “It’s okay. I’m fine. They’re just some scratches,” he assured you, leaning in for one more kiss before he was pulling back and looking around.
“Wait here,” he said suddenly, taking off towards his left, and you simply just blinked. Because you just knew your husband hadn’t run off only minutes after being reunited with the love of his life–right?
“Honey,” you heard his voice from over your shoulder, and you turned around only to be face to face with none other than Captain Pete Mitchell.
“Mav, this is my wife, Y/N. Y/N this is Maverick–he saved my life up there,” Rooster said proudly, and you felt a wave of emotion crash over you.
“Pete Mitchell, ma’am. It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Maverick stuck out his hand, and instead of returning his hand shake, you threw your arms around him.
“Thank you,” you whispered, and after a few moments, you felt his arms tighten around your middle.
“There’s no need. In fact, don’t let him give me all the credit. Your husband saved my ass out there a couple of times. I wouldn’t have made it home without him,” he said firmly as you pulled back, and you couldn’t help but smile proudly at the wonderful man you married.
“Of course he did. That’s Rooster,” you grinned, reaching out to take his hand, and your lover just kissed the back of your hand. You turned back to look at Maverick, and you caught the tail end of a smile he was giving Rooster, one that mirrored the image of a proud father.
“I’ll let you kids go. You’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” he laughed softly, clapping Rooster on the shoulder. “I’ll see you before you go, yeah?”.
“You will,” you interjected, your arm wrapped around Rooster’s waist and giving it a soft squeeze. “We’ll go out for dinner tomorrow, how’s that sound?”.
Plans were quickly made, and you even managed to exchange numbers with Maverick before you and Bradley were in his Bronco, tearing back off towards town and your hotel. You didn’t think you’d ever run so fast into a hotel lobby, but before you could even catch your breath, Rooster was kissing your neck in the elevator, one hand sliding down the front of your shorts, and the other moving up your t-shirt and squeezing your right breast.
“Bradley!,” you squealed, but a moan quickly left your lips when his thumb brushed over your nipple at the same time the pad of his middle finger rubbed lightly at your clit. “Someone could see.”
“Let ‘em,” he growled, working on leaving a mark under your left earlobe as he lazily began to grind against your hip. “This whole hotel’s gonna know how much Bradley Bradshaw missed his wife.”
The automated voice in the elevator announced your floor just as the doors opened, and the two of you managed to stumble your way into the hotel room. Shirts and pants were being flung in all directions, and you think your panties might have landed somewhere in the kitchenette, but you really couldn’t bring yourself to care.
Because at that moment, the love of your life was kissing down your body, placing your thighs on his shoulders and diving straight into your slick cunt.
“Fuck!,” you cried out, fingers tangling in his dark hair as you began to grind down against his mouth, every nerve ending in your body on fire. Rooster’s tongue was sliding expertly between your folds, licking up every bit of wetness before he would suck quickly and harshly at your clit, switching back and forth until you were a panting, gasping mess for him.
“Bradley,” you whined, hips rolling constantly, trying to draw yourself closer and closer to the edge.
“That’s it, baby,” he purred, biting softly at your inner thigh before he immediately slid two fingers inside of you, causing you to swear loudly. “Want you to come for me, honey. Want you to come on my fingers before I put my cock in you. Can you do that for me? Can you come for me, princess?”
He had barely finished his last sentence, fingers drilling against your sweet spot, before you were screaming his name and clamping down around his thick digits. Your body shook with each pulse of your orgasm, hips continuing to roll as you rode out your high, your free hand lazily rubbing at your breasts while you enjoyed your euphoric experience.
“Such a good girl for me,” he whispered, peppering your hips and lower stomach with light kisses before he pulled his fingers out slowly, crawling back up your body. He kept one of your legs up by his shoulder, and he stroked himself twice before sliding his achingly hard cock into your soaked pussy, groaning once he was fully seated inside of you.
One heel was digging into the small of Bradley’s back, the other into his shoulder as he practically split you in two, your sensitive cunt almost pulling him deeper inside of you. His hips began to piston against yours quickly, and you could tell that he wouldn’t last long. He’d been waiting for this. Waiting for you.
“I fucking love you,” he panted, your foreheads pressed together and lips barely touching. “I love you so much. Thought about you every day. Wanted to be back with you, to be back in this pretty pussy.”
As he spoke, his hand slid down once again to start rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb, and you squirmed under his touch immediately.
“Missed you,” you whimpered out, and at your words, Bradley was connecting your lips once more, kissing you with every ounce of love and affection he had flowing through his veins for you.
As the minutes passed, your pleasure grew and grew, until you were teetering on the edge of another orgasm, feeling your skin practically sizzle with every bead of sweat that dropped onto your skin from your husband.
“B-Bradley,” you gasped out, trying to hold out just a little bit longer.
“I know, honey. I’m close, too. You gonna come again for me? Gonna let me fill you up? Give you everything I’ve got?,” he practically growled, and you just nodded your head furiously, your hands settled on the back of his neck, keeping him close.
“Use your words for me, princess. Tell me you’re close. Tell me you’re gonna come on my cock,” he demanded, hips faltering just slightly as he neared his own orgasm.
“M’gonna come, baby. Gonna–,” you stopped, a mewl ripped from your lips as that wave of pleasure crashed over you once again, and you were clamping around his cock like a vice.
“Oh shit, oh fuck, oh fuck–,” he gasped, and within a handful of thrusts, he was spilling inside of you, leaning down to kiss you messily through your shared orgasms, his hips slowing to a stop and he just stayed inside of you for a moment, the two of you attempting to catch your breath.
“You really did miss me,” you teased after a few minutes of the two of you just lazily kissing, and Rooster chuckled softly, nuzzling your noses together.
Within minutes, the two of you were cleaned up and back in bed, your naked bodies tangled together under the sheets and you let your fingers dance lightly over his scrapes, pressing a feather-light kiss to each one once you inspected it. You noticed that Rooster was struggling to keep his eyes open, and so you pressed a final kiss to his lips, brushing his sweat-matted hair off of his forehead.
“Get some rest, Lieutenant Bradshaw. You’ve earned it,” you whispered, laying down with your head on his chest, letting his heartbeat remind you he was home. He was alive. He was okay.
“Thank you,” was all he said, and you found it funny how two little words could be worth more than an epistle about his love for you, how thankful he was for you, how he’d never be able to repay you for the past two weeks.
“Anything for you, you big stud,” you teased, closing your eyes and feeling him giving you a gentle squeeze.
“I’ll keep ya to that in the mornin’,” he yawned, and within seconds his familiar snores filled the small bedroom, and you fell asleep with a smile on your lips.
#top gun#top gun: maverick#rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw#bradley 'rooster' bradshaw#rooster bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x you#rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw x you#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#my fic#my writing#top gun fic#top gun imagine#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley rooster bradshaw fic#rooster bradshaw fic#leavin' on a jet plane
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No Worse Pain
Requested: yes
Summary: Bradley has been extremely stressed at work lately. You don’t want to add to that by telling him about the pain you’re in.
Word count: 1.2k
Warnings: periods, cramps, pain.
Pairings: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x fem!reader
Stupid fucking period cramps. In your entire life, you couldn’t remember another time when you wished for the pain to dissipate this badly. You felt like sobbing. For the past three hours, you had been curled up on the couch, hands clutching your lower waist desperately. You hadn’t had period cramps this bad for years. While you weren’t exactly sure what caused the pain to be this intense, you were silently praying that it would disappear soon.
Another wave of pain rolled through you, causing you to curl up even further and hiss quietly. Normally, Bradley would be curled up right behind you. Only, this week, he was conveniently so busy at work that even as the clock struck 11:00 pm, he was still nowhere close to coming home. So, you were left to find a way to deal with the cramps yourself.
However, nothing was working. You had taken painkillers and had a hot water bottle pressed against your lower stomach. And yet you still couldn’t find any relief. There was a random show playing in the background, but you couldn’t focus enough to make sense of it. You were so out of it that you didn’t even hear the crunch of your finance’s tires as he pulled into the driveway. Nor did you hear the door open with a loud creak.
It felt as if there was a 100-pound weight on his shoulders as Bradley stepped through the door and into your shared home. He hated the fact that he was only coming home to you this late at night. Usually, he was home in time for the two of you to share dinner. Lately, however, he had been coming home later and later. Over the past few weeks, Bradley’s workload had increased tenfold. He had stacks upon stacks of paperwork, plus training, and he was up for a new promotion.
The added stress had put a small strain on your relationship. A few arguments had been caused by Bradley’s newly added stress. However, they had been small and had quickly blown over. Now, as he kicked his heavy boots off and dropped his backpack onto the floor, all he wanted was to be with you.
He walked around the corner, ready to be greeted with the sight of you with your hair tossed up in a messy bun, pyjamas on and binging some new show that he had never heard of. But what he saw had him freezing for a second. The show was playing, just like how he had imagined, but you were balled up on the couch, whimpering quietly and turned away from the TV.
“Honey?” The second you heard his voice you were trying to hide the fact that you were in pain. With everything that Bradley had going on at work, you didn’t want to add more to his load. He immediately rushed forward and crouched down beside you. “Is everything okay?” The soothing feeling of his hand gently caressing your side had you wanting to burst into tears. Your emotions really were a wreck right now.
After taking a moment to compose yourself, you rolled over with what you hoped was a reassuring smile. “All good, baby. How was your day?” You silently pleaded that changing the topic would work. He hesitated for a moment, searching your face for any sign of pain before he relented.
“It was alright. Stressful as usual,” Somehow, that only made you feel worse. Knowing that Bradley had such a terrible day, the thought of him having to come home, expecting to relax, and having to deal with your pain instead made you feel uneasy. He noticed you wince when you shifted, your hand grasping your lower stomach. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”
Regardless of the pain, you plastered a smile on your face. Bradley seemed to accept your single nod and dropped the subject. Wordlessly, you stood from the couch and made your way to the bedroom, Bradley hot on your heels.
Getting ready for bed was a hard task when you were trying to mask how much pain you were in. You could tell that Bradley was still suspicious, but you were grateful that he didn’t say anything. You disappeared into the bathroom, popping a few more painkillers into your mouth and finished your business.
Bradley was sitting on the bed when you returned. You could only smile at him, kissing his cheek as you climbed into bed. The soft cry that escaped you as you sat down had Bradley’s head snapping over to you. He cooed softly as he wrapped his arms around you and held you against his chest. You began crying softly, hating the fact that you were putting additional stress on your fiance. “Honey, it’s okay.” He attempted to soothe you quietly, but your tears only fell harder.
“Darlin’, please,” Your fiance pleaded quietly, asking, begging you to tell him what was hurting you. “Just let me in.” His forehead knocked against yours and you could feel the love and sincerity rolling off him in waves. He wanted you to open up to him. He wanted you to share that with him. So you nodded.
You took in a breath and began explaining yourself. “I got my period this morning. You were already at work,” You noted when you saw that Bradley was confused. “Everything was fine until this evening. Then I got really bad cramps and nothing I did worked. It really hurts.” You whimpered quietly. Sighing, your fiance hugged you tighter and ran his fingers through your hair gently.
Even though you had told him what was hurting you, he knew that there was something you were still holding back. Bradley simply held you, waiting for you to open up on your own. And when you spoke, Bradley was shocked at the words that came out of your mouth. “But even though it hurt that bad, the hardest part was not telling you.” Your head was resting on his chest and the room was so quiet that you could hear his heartbeat pick up at his words.
Given the promotion that he was up against, you really didn't want to draw his focus away from his work. You knew how much Bradley wanted this and you would never be able to forgive yourself if you were the reason that he didn’t get it.
It took your fiance a few seconds to form a response. “I’m sorry that you’re in pain, princess. Lay down, let me help you.” You obeyed, shuffling under the covers and letting Bradley maneuver you. He moved you until you were laying on your side with Bradley spooning you from behind. The feeling of his warm hands sitting on your lower stomach had you almost moaning in relief. Even though you had tried all night to dilute the pain, the second Bradley’s hand hit your skin, you felt a thousand times better.
There was a silent communication between the two of you as you both drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms. No matter how busy or stressed Bradley was, you could share anything with him. It didn’t matter how big or small the problem, he wanted to know.
a/n: Hope you all enjoy! Thank you for reading and requests are open :)
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All-American Girl - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader
summary: Bradley's every part the doting dad to your daughter Tatum, but after talking to some of the other wives on base in your mom's group, you're worried he may be hiding his true feelings about fatherhood.
A/N: not me procrastinating and adding to my country music series instead of literally anything else on my list. here's sickeningly sweet bradley as a girl dad fluff based off All-American Girl by Carrie Underwood.
pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x wife!reader
content/warnings: sickeningly sweet fluff, Bradley as a girl dad, mentions of sexism.
word count: 1.4k
Now he's wrapped around her finger, she's the center of his whole world
And his heart belongs to that sweet little beautiful, wonderful, perfect all-American girl
Bradley groaned as he jogged up the front steps, his boots heavy against the brick as he walked up the veranda to the front door. An American flag flapped in the breeze, the pole nestled in the stand attached to the pillar on the front of the house, the mid-afternoon sun striking the front yard, basking over the dozens of plants and greenery that were planted there. Bradley kicked his boots off the moment he crossed the entryway, stacking them neatly by the door. He started unzipping his flight suit, his tanned skin slicked with sweat from the training exercises he’d completed earlier that day. He thought about the list of things he wanted to do before he settled in for the night with you - a shower was the first priority at this point.
Peeling the olive green suit off his skin, he discarded it in the laundry hamper in the bathroom. His white t-shirt and boxers followed suit, along with the thick, military issued socks. He’d plan on washing those tonight after dinner. He padded along the hallway to the bathroom, his balls of his feet sticking to the cherry wood flooring. The cool water flowing from the shower head was a refreshing comfort compared to how warm he was earlier, he contemplated asking for a transfer to somewhere colder after today - the hot Pacific coast sun was brutal, and despite having lived in California for a few years now, Bradley hadn’t adjusted. Not that Virginia Beach had been much cooler - at least, not in the summer, but it wasn’t as consistently warm as it was on the west coast.
As Bradley stepped out of the shower, he wrapped a plush, lavender coloured towel around his waist. Shaking his caramel coloured curls dry, he approached the vanity, reaching for the pomade - the same brand he’d been using to tame his hair since he was 14. His mom had taught him that trick - using a styling pomade to keep his curls intact, but less wild than they would be left to their own devices. Part of him wondered if he just never changed brands because it was the one she’d suggested for him, one of the last happy memories of his mother that he had clung to for the last 26 years.
“Bradley? I’m home!” you called out from the bottom of the stairs, having seen Bradley’s vintage Ford Bronco parked in the driveway.
“Upstairs, honey!” He yelled back, his deep voice echoing throughout the empty house.
He quickly pulled on a pair of denim shorts and a fresh, white t-shirt, grabbing his favourite floral print button-down on his way down the stairs. He beamed at you, leaning in to give you a loving peck on the cheek. He knelt down in front of the car seat you’d placed on the floor, smiling softly at his infant daughter as she stretched and yawned, waking up from the nap she’d taken on the car ride home.
“Good mornin’ sunshine! How’s my girl?”
Bradley held his index finger out to baby Tatum, smiling as she gripped it tightly in her hand. He began unbuckling her harness with his free hand as he spoke to her.
“Did you have a fun day with Mama? What did you do, princess? You and your mama go shopping for some new clothes, baby girl?”
Tatum let out a happy sigh as Bradley scooped her up in his arms, holding her close to his chest. He leaned his head down to kiss her forehead, his hand moving up and down her back in soft, slow, gentle strokes as he cuddled his baby. He took a seat on the couch, leaning back slightly so Tatum could recline on his chest. He smiled up at you, waiting patiently for you to start showing off the different outfits you’d purchased for Tatum. He’d always sworn that he’d never be the type of father who’d dismiss things he wasn’t interested in - whether it was baby clothes, or ballet, baby and me classes or going for walks around the neighborhood with her - he’d always try his best to be into it. It’s how his mom described his father - always interested in anything to do with Bradley when he was little.
You delicately sifted through the array of dresses and outfits, each garment infused with your hopes and dreams for little Tatum. With tender affection, you recounted where and when you had acquired each piece, your voice tinged with a blend of excitement and maternal pride. Tatum slumbered peacefully, her soft breaths creating a gentle rhythm against Bradley's shoulder, while you poured your heart into sharing your plans for her future attire.
As the last dress found its place, you sank onto the couch beside Bradley, seeking solace in his comforting presence. Nestling into his side, you felt the warmth of his embrace envelop you, his arm offering both physical and emotional support.
“Are you happy?” you murmured softly, a trace of uncertainty lacing your words as you chewed anxiously at your bottom lip.
A flicker of confusion danced across Bradley's features before he met your gaze with unwavering reassurance.
“Of course I’m happy, why would you ask that?”
“It’s silly,” you sighed, a moment of vulnerability surfacing before you continued, meeting Bradley’s brown-eyed gaze as you spoke, “It’s just that…you know how I took Tatum to that mommy and me group?”
"Mhmm, every Wednesday," Bradley affirmed, his attention fully focused on you.
“Right! That one. Well…one of the moms was saying how she was so thankful her baby was a boy, because her husband wanted a boy really badly and she didn’t want him to be upset if he didn’t get what he wanted…”
Bradley's brow furrowed with concern as he gently kissed Tatum's forehead, a protective gesture that spoke volumes.
“Babe, he sounds like a dick,” Bradley interjected, shaking his head as he gently kissed Tatum’s forehead again.
“I’m not finished yet!” You said as you held your hand up. “So anyways, she said that, and a lot of the other moms started talking and saying how their husbands were disappointed when they had girls or relieved when they had sons, and then they said how lucky I was that you were happy with a girl. The one of them said her husband pretended to be, but then he was totally different and genuinely happy when they had a boy next.”
“And you think I’m doing that?” Bradley queried as he tilted his head to the side, looking at you.
“Well, no, but…would you tell me if you’d wanted a son instead?”
The corner of Bradley's mouth lifted in a soft smile, his gaze softening as he met your eyes. "No," he replied emphatically, shaking his head. “Because I’ve never wanted a son instead of Tatum. Not once.”
“You haven’t?” You said as relief washed over you, Bradley's words washing away any lingering doubts.
“Not for a second. I’ve wanted Tatum from the minute you told me you were pregnant - I never really gave a shit whether she was a boy or a girl. She’s mine and that’s all I care about. It just happened to turn out that she’s the second Bradshaw girl around here to steal my heart, after her mama.”
“Really?”
“Mhmm, you know that song, the one where she says about how her daddy was praying for a boy, but got a girl instead and she was wrapped around his finger? Then she grows up and asks her husband one day what he wants, and he says he just wants a sweet, beautiful All-American girl like his wife?”
“Yeah, I know it,” You laugh softly as Bradley begins to hum the tune of the song, singing it softly as he looks down at Tatum.
“That’s exactly how I felt when you told me you were having a girl. I just wanted a beautiful little baby who looked just like you, and that’s exactly what I got. Now I have two beautiful girls who love me more than anything, and I would move mountains for the pair of you. We could have twelve girls for all I care - I’d love every single one of them just as much as I love you.”
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new tactics
“is this some kind of new flirting tactic no one gave me a heads up about?”
“i'm sorry?”
summary: rooster catches you staring.
pairing: bradley “rooster” bradshaw
genre: smut, fluff
warnings: unprotected seggs (be safe kids), thigh riding, dirty talk, praise, handjob, soft!dom rooster, very subby reader, very fluffy smut, aloooot of pillow talk (the good kind though), rooster is whipped within 3 hours
a/n: i'm feral for this man, and deeply, deeply in love with him. that is all. very mildly proof read
word count: 3.9k
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you trace your ring finger over the rim of your bottle, biting at your bottom lip as you watch a man with a pornstache, that surprisingly does wonders for him, break out into a child-like dance after his performance, shuffling and spinning with a stupid grin on his face. you watch as he fixes the aviators that had slipped to the tip of his nose while he was singing, giving everyone a stupidly gorgeous smile as they chant his name.
rooster! rooster! rooster!
you’d been gawking at this man the moment you realised you were in the same vicinity as him. ever since he’d drawn the entire bars attention to himself by playing a rendition of ‘great balls of fire’- you’re fairly certain your panties weren’t the only pair that had dropped for him. unbeknownst to you, however, he always noticed when you’re eyes were on him. he’d catch you just the millisecond you look away, and his ego grew mountains everytime you were unknowingly caught ogling. a dark-haired girl stands beside you, asking the bartender for a beer. “his name’s rooster,” she chimes, and you make eye contact with her, visibly confused. “what?” “the guy you’ve been drooling over, name’s rooster.” fuck. “was i that obvious?” she giggles, thanking the bartender before sipping at her beer as she nods. “you picked probably one of the best from the lot, though, so props to you.” she motions her beer at the other men in uniform, watching as a blonde haired man smacks one of his friends in the abdomen. before you can ask anymore questions, she’s gone- presumably rejoining her uniformed group after grabbing another drink.
“is this some kind of new flirting tactic no one gave me a heads up about?” a deep voice rattles you out of your thoughts, and you turn around to see your eye candy from before.
“i'm sorry?”
“you’ve been staring at me all night, any particular reason why?” you curse yourself in your head the second he says this, but, there’s no turning back now. “you’re an attractive guy, no?” he seems taken aback by the remark, like he hadn’t prepared for that sort of answer, he tilts his head slightly. “that so?” you hum in response to his question, taking the last sip of your drink as he sits on the stool beside you. “you’re fairly straightforward, uh,” you smile, “y/n.” “you’re fairly straightforward, y/n.” you nod as he leans the tiniest bit closer to you. “i mean, you already caught me staring, would you have preferred me to act all innocent, mr?” he shrugs, contemplating on what to say. “name’s bradley bradshaw, but my friends call me rooster- and uh, i'm not sure actually. honestly i thought you’d have told me to piss off the second i walked up to you.” you laugh at his revelation, he smiles at the sound. “well. what did you want to happen when you walked up to me, rooster?” he smirks at this question, shit-eating-grin on display as he shuffles in his seat. “well of course, i’d have swept you off of your feet and we’d be back at my place by now, darlin’.” he says, a playful lilt in his voice. your eyebrow quips at this, accompanied with a small smile, and he reads your expression- slightly worried for your response.
“i’m joking by the-” “are you asking me to fuck you, bradley?” you cut him off, and he’s taken aback for the second time tonight. “i mean, if you want i was kind of like joking and all but if you want to that’d be cool too like-” his rambling’s cut off when your lips meet his and he gasps against you, taken aback for the third time tonight. his left hand lands on your waist and he kisses back, softly- like he’s making sure you want this. “you’re very straightforward, y/n.” you place a hand on his thigh and feel him tense under your touch, “that a good thing or a bad thing, bradshaw?” “it’s making it very hard for me to try ‘nd be a gentleman.” he speaks softly, thumb drawing circles on your waist. “asking me to fuck you, was being a gentleman?” you joke and he throws his head back and whines- “i genuinely wasn’t serious, i hope y’know. m’ happy to sit here and get to know you.” you gulp when he throws his head back, watching his adam’s apple bob when he speaks, too enticed by his physique to note the genuine confession. “you’ve charmed your way past drinks and chit-chat, rooster. we can do that after.” you don’t know where the sudden burst of confidence came from, maybe it was the growing heat in your core but nonetheless, you smile and extend an arm. “after?” he quips.
“fuck being a gentleman, just for tonight?”
he beams at this, gladly taking your hand and fiddling with his pocket to fish out his keys. you giggle at this, and he looks up at you, “what’s so funny?” you smile. “you being excited for a fuck.” you sing, swaying in your spot. “s’not just gonna be a fuck, i hope you know that, doll.” it’s your turn to question, “what’s that supposed to mean?” he grins, widely, tilting his head to watch where he’s going as he guides you out of the crowded bar. he looks over his shoulder, grin still beaming, he winks. “s’gonna be a lot more than just a fuck.”
the drive there is unbearably long, you can already feel the wet patch in your underwear growing at the thought of what would happen when the two of you arrived at his place. it’s mostly quiet, the sexual tension so thick you were so close to straddling him while he was driving. you watch as one of his hands let go of the steering wheel, taking its place on your bare thigh, you shiver slightly at the feeling. you watch as he smirks, noticing your reaction but eyes still on the road. his thumb begins to drag up and down your thigh, his hand shifting up closer to the hem of your dress. you’re about to jokingly ask him how good he is at multitasking- but you pull into the driveway.
once he’s stopped the car and taken the keys out of the ignition you’re on top of him, ignoring whatever you bumped into on the transition from the passenger seat to the drivers, and you’re kissing him desperately. “fuck, someone’s keen,” he breathes out between kisses and you bite at his bottom lip as you pull away, “just shut up and kiss me rooster.” he grins. “yes ma’am.” he slides his tongue in your mouth and you whine at the feeling, unknowingly grinding against his crotch as you do so. this elicits a deep groan from the man under you, both of his hands on your waist as you tug at the hairs on the back of his head. his hand wraps around your throat gently as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, your hands clutching at the button up shirt he’s wearing- you feel the outline of his hard on against your clothed cunt and you grind against him, slower this time as you look at him. his grip on your neck tightens slightly.
“fuck, keep going like that and i’ll cum here like i’m fucking sixteen again” he mutters out.
“been high and dry for a while, have you?” “you’ve no idea.” you giggle before his lips crash onto yours again, both of his hands resting on both sides of your face as you moan into the kiss, desperate for any sort of friction. he bucks his hips up slightly and you moan as you feel his erection against your growing arousal, “inside, now- please.” you mumble out and he chuckles, “so polite, darlin’.” he opens the door for you and you manoeuvre your way out of his lap, stumbling slightly when your feet hit the ground. he’s not far behind you, you almost jump hearing the click of the bronco locking behind you. he motions for the door, “ladies first,” he mumbles and you nod, giggling, “why thank you, bradley.” walking towards the front of his house.
once his front door is locked, his hands grab for your ass as he hoists you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he leans you against the door- kissing you like a man starved. he’s getting rougher- not that you minded. he kneads the fat of your ass in both of his hands as your left hand is on the side of his face, the other tugging desperately at his dark hair. he licks, bites and sucks his way down your neck, no doubt leaving a constellation of purple and red in its wake. he walks you both towards the couch, laying you down softly. he’s on top of you now, both of you grabbing for anything you can reach, heavily panting. he slides a finger along your clothed core and you moan, “fuck, you’re soaked. i haven’t even done anything.” he mumbles out and you grind against his hand. “ah ah,” he says before sitting up straight. you send him a confused look and he pats his thigh, motioning for you to sit. you straddle him and he laughs, you frown. now you’re even more confused. “not both, just the one, darlin’.” “huh?”
“you said fuck being a gentleman, so, doll, why should i have to do it for you?” you shudder when you realise the meaning of his words. “i can wait here all day, sweetheart.” he speaks out, leaning his back against the couch, an arm resting over the top of it as he makes himself comfy. you look at him, anxiously gnawing at your bottom lip. he laughs softly before giving in and sitting up. “d’ya want some help, baby?” he coos, smiling at your nervous figure. you nod shyly, and a hand meets your hips, pulling you closer to him before pushing you back. you whine at the friction, not expecting it to even feel good when you’d sat on his right thigh. “there you go,” he whispers, guiding your hips as you gain rhythm. “wasn’t so hard, now, was it?” you hum a “nuh uh” in response, his hand resting on the side of your face while the other guides your hips- he smirks, watching the way your face scrunches up in pleasure everytime your clothed clit gets enough friction against the denim. “y’look so pretty like this, y/n. doing so well, love.” you moan at the praise, grabbing his face to kiss him as you continue to selfishly grind against the fabric of his jeans. you fumble for the zipper of his pants and he smiles against your lips, “so needy.” he untucks himself from his pants and you begin lazily stroking at his already hard length, then it dawns on you that you can barely wrap your hand around it.
you halt your hips movements, and he quips an eyebrow at you, watching as you marvel over his dick. “is it that impressive, doll?” he chuckles, guiding your hips to start moving again, “it.. it won’t fit?” you say, voice barely a whisper as you continue to stroke up and down his length. “it will sweetheart, don’t worry m’gonna take care of you.” you nod before continuing to get yourself off on his thigh, both of your moans filling the room as you throw your head back, he takes the opportunity to latch onto your neck again, sucking and kissing. you feel him smile against you when your breath shortens at the feeling, his hand reaches up to grope your breast and you whine when he takes your nipple between his fingers. “m-more, roos please.” he looks up at you when you call him that, and you swear you could cum just by the look he gives you. “cute.” he murmurs before helping you out of your dress, halting your movements so you can hold your arms up while he undresses you. “so pretty,” he mumbles before gliding his hands up and down your bare waist, you continue your movement- desperately trying to reach your climax as he sucks on your nipple. you let a combination of a yelp and a moan out when you feel him bite down slightly, dragging his tongue along your chest until he gets to the other breast.
you tease the slit of his dick with your thumb and he groans, tensing his thighs which causes you to whimper at the new angles to get yourself off on. you’re going much faster now, hand lazily stroking him as you aim to release your pending high, “m’gonna, fuck.” he smiles softly at your dazed state, helping you get off on him by moving your hips at the same pace you were at before you began to falter. “s’okay darlin’ i got you.” and you let yourself come undone. your thighs tremble against his and you feel a hand wrap around your waist to stable you, your head falling onto his shoulder as you let out a string of broken moans, wincing at the sensitivity of your core. when you catch your breath, you let your gaze trail to the wet patch of his jeans and he grins, grabbing your chin so you look at him. “look at the mess you made sweetheart, so needy for me.” he taps your chin teasingly and you kiss him softly, planting open mouthed kisses from his jaw to his neck, before grabbing at his shirt. “off, please” you mumble out and he laughs against you, stripping himself of his hawaiian shirt and the white tank underneath, “so polite, darlin’.” your breath hitches at the sight of him, hand tracing over his toned abs, you feel him tense slightly at your touch. you halt your movements, letting your hand back off and he grabs it, “sorry- no one’s touched me like that in a while, s’all.” “no?” you quip, and he shakes his head. “the last few before you just wanted a quick fuck, you’re more, gentle? i guess? i’m not sure.” he speaks, letting his hands wander down your sides, and you resume tracing over the ridges of his stomach. “mm,” you hum, “y’gonna take me out for dinner, roos?” he smiles at this. “‘course, baby.” you kiss him, and you whine when you feel him hook your underwear to the side, gathering your slick with his fingers.
you reposition yourself to straddle him now, hovering above him slightly as he teases your entrance with the tip of his dick, and you’re bracing yourself for the stretch. “we don’t have to, you know that right?” you smile at him and shake your head. “i wanna.” you mumble before slowly lowering yourself onto his length, you whimper when just his tip is inside, already stretching you and he holds your hips in place so you don’t sink any lower. “s’okay darlin’ i got you, take your time.” he coos, brushing a hair out of your face as he watches your breath quicken, you lower yourself a little more, getting accustomed to the unfamiliar stretch. you place your hands on his shoulders, feeling the muscles under your fingers as you fully lower yourself onto him, the two of you moaning at the feeling. you sink your nails into his shoulder, hearing him hiss quietly at the sensation, he rubs circles on your back, soothing you as it takes all of his control to not rut his hips into you relentlessly right here, right now. you breathe out, “okay, m’okay- i think,” you whisper out before lifting your hips and dropping them again slowly. rooster throws his head back onto the couch at this, feeling your walls around him and your pretty sounds driving him insane.
he kisses your cheek, letting his hand rest on the side of your face as you continue to bounce on his length at a slow pace, feeling the ridges of the veins going in and out of you. “how’s it feel, doll? you’re okay?” he asks, tenderly rubbing circles on your lower back. you nod, broken moans leaving your mouth as you struggle to maintain a rhythm with your hips, gripping tightly onto his shoulders as he places kisses along your collarbone, mumbling little praises every chance he gets. “fuck, y’so big roos.” “that’s okay, baby, want me to do it?“ he quips and you nod, watching as he smiles softly at you before repositioning the two of you so your back is against the couch and he’s on top of you. he reenters you slowly and you gasp, getting used to the way he fills you up to the brim, “you alright, love?” you smile in response, reaching your hands into his hair and tugging when he hits a certain spot inside of you. “you were so confident before, doll, what happened?” he smirks when he asks this, thrusting into you painfully slowly before pushing the last of his cock in abruptly, you moan at this- loudly, “too fucked out to talk, huh?” you whimper at his words, gripping tighter on his hair as a response. “m-more, please.” “you sure you can take it?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, and you nod a little too enthusiastically.
this is all he needs to start rutting into you relentlessly, it takes you a second to process, but soon you’re cursing out and letting out a string of broken moans and whines as he continues at a pace that’s so incredibly new to you it makes you see stars. “look at that, baby, m’filling you up so well.” he traces a hand over the bulge on your lower stomach, you look down to see it as well and you throw your head back with a moan, his lips attaching to your neck the second you do so. you’re dragging your nails down his back, surely leaving some sort of mark as he continues to abuse your already sensitive heat. “how’s it feel, doll? talk to me,” he groans out, and you can barely utter a word. “s’good, fuck- feels so good, roos.” he moans lowly at the nickname, peppering kisses anywhere he can reach, forehead, temple, cheek, shoulder. “you look so pretty like this, sweetheart, you’re doing so well.” you whimper at his non-stop praise, the knot in your stomach threatening to come undone every time his dick hits the right spot inside of you, you dig your nails into his skin again and he breathes out heavily. “so close,” you cry, “fuck!” is the last thing that leaves your mouth when your body begins to shake uncontrollably, your second orgasm taking you by complete surprise, back arching off of the couch as your vision blanks for a brief second, the only thing you feel is rooster’s thick length thrusting in and out of you. you’re panting now, so overwhelmed by your second orgasm you don’t notice his hand is on the side of your face again, “you alright, love?” you nod, biting your lip to suppress another moan as his pubic hair brushes against your sensitive clit when he pushes inside of you.
his pace starts to falter slightly, deep grunts coming from the man above you and you kiss and lick at his neck, continuing to play with his hair. “shit, where do i-” “inside, roos- please,” you whine out and he curses under his breath when the words leave your pretty little lips. thinking about how they’d feel around his cock, but that’s for another time. “i can take it, promise,” you whisper out and that’s all it takes for him to come undone, seeing you all pretty and innocent under him, while being the complete and utter opposite. a string of profanities leaves him as he thrusts into you as deep as he can, making sure you take every last drop. “holy shit,” he breathes out, as if comprehending what exactly had just happened. “thank fuck i walked up to you.” he says, rather breathlessly, actually, and the two of you laugh as he collapses on top of you, although consciously keeping the majority of his weight off of you with a hand on the couch. both of you wince slightly when he pulls out, and you giggle to yourself watching him half jog to another room shirtless and sweaty. you raise an eyebrow when he comes back with a damp towel, and you gasp when he presses it to your core, “what’re you- oh. you really are a gentleman.” “what? guys don’t clean you up after sex?” “no? i mean you’re the first in a while but still, no?” he seems baffled by this as he continues to gather up the mess as best he can before returning your underwear to its original placing. he returns after putting the towel away somewhere, extending a hand to you as you’ve sat up on his couch, gathering the fabric of your discarded dress to cover your bare chest.
he grins before talking, “can ya stand?” and you shoot him a glare, wanting to prove him wrong. but the second your legs straighten up above the hardwood floor you stumble into the man in front of you, astonished that your legs felt like jelly. you look up at him and he’s still smiling like an idiot, “oh shut up.” “i didn’t even say anything!” “yeah but you looked at me funny!” he throws his head back in laughter, and you join him. but suddenly you’re thrown across his shoulder, ass sticking up in the air as you flail in his grasp, “rooster!” you cry out and he laughs, smacking your ass playfully while you do the same shortly after, you did have the best angle for it after all. he almost stops walking when your hand meets his behind and you cackle at the confused reaction. he shakes his head with a smile before continuing to walk, placing you down on the bed while he rummages through some drawers, handing you a shirt. you thank him with a kind mumble as he changes out of his jeans, opting for a pair of sweats as he climbs into his bed with a dramatic groan. you giggle as you glance over at him, face planted in to the bed as you move yourself closer to him, looking at him amused when he lifts his head to smile at you lazily, “oh, hello.” he mumbles and your laughter continues, softly rubbing his still sweaty back as he abruptly grabs you by the waist, turning around so you’re laying in his arms. “hello,” you mumble back.
in a half dozed state, you learn through conversation that he’s a naval aviator, much to your surprise. he tells you about his missions and his pain-in-the-ass comrades that he deals with on a daily basis, the story behind his callsign and the fact that his parents have passed. in return, less interestingly you tell him about your studies and your less-than-average job. you’re running your hands through his hair, his head on your chest.
“so, was it a good tactic lieutenant?”
“very, but you don’t have to be too worried about using it on anyone else, sweetheart. i'm not letting you go anytime soon.” you giggle at his response, continuing to play with his hair in a soothing manner. he lifts his head up, kissing you again.
“fuck, c’mere- i cant get enough of you.”
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
pfff it’s finally here! sorry it took so long, likes and reblogs appreciated :)
tag list: @luckyladycreator2
#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw smut#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw fanfic#rooster smut#top gun maverick#rooster#top gun 2022#bradley rooster bradshaw smut#bradley rooster bradshaw fanfic#bradley bradshaw fluff#bradley rooster bradshaw fic#top gun fanfic#top gun maverick fanfic
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Road trip Rooster write it I dare you
....You come at me again with the daring. Based on this post
Also this got way away from me. Not beta-read.
Length: 7.6K
Warnings: Huddling for warmth in a cold car, slow burn, cursing, mutual pining, angst, fluff, there was only one bed, friends to lovers, feelings of jealousy, explicit sexual content—vaginal sex, breast play
Rating: 18+ Only. Minors interacting with this work will be blocked.
Summary: Bradley Bradshaw has been your best friend since you were kids. Have you been in love with him since you were sixteen? Sure. But he doesn’t know that.
“Big man, haaaaad to take his car.”
“Alright.”
“Never mind the fact that it’s like, 20 years older than he is—”
“Alright—”
“And has a soft top that leaks heat like a…”
You go quiet as Bradley arches his brows, waiting for you to finish your remark. When you don’t, he waves his hand, prompts:
“Like a…?”
“Like a heat-leaker.”
“Wow.”
“Shut up. I don’t have to be clever, I’m fucking cold.”
Bradley rolls his eyes, reaching into the backseat and drawing up a few blankets.
“We knew this might happen, we prepared,” He reminds you. “C’mon.”
You don’t gripe that prepared should’ve meant having enough gas to get you to the next town. You just huff as Bradley turns in his seat, swinging one of his legs up and pushing it across the console and behind you. You scooch across the console and lean back against his chest, drawing your legs up to stretch across the seats before holding still as he layers and tucks three blankets around your upper bodies. You want to argue further, but with the little cocoon he’s created, and the heat of his body behind you, you’re actually starting to warm up a little. Bradley slides his arms under the blankets to curl around your middle. You let your eyes slip closed, then squeeze a touch as he takes hold of your hands in his, rubbing them gently for warmth.
“If we got in the back and took the soft top down,” Bradley murmurs, “We could see the stars.”
“You can see them when I kick you out of the car.”
“You’d kick me out of my own car?”
“Yes I would, Mister ‘We Don’t Need to Stop at That Gas Station, We’ve Only Got a Little Ways Before the Next Motel’.”
“I miscalculated.”
“Damn right you did. Being on leave is making you sloppy—Ow!” You squeak, squirming as Bradley pinches your side. You elbow him in the side in turn, giggling as he tightens his grip on you.
“Get some sleep,” He urges softly. You huff through your nose, tipping your head back against his shoulder and nuzzling into his neck to warm the chilled tip of your nose.
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
--
“I think I have a crick in my neck.”
“Oh, please.”
“Tell you what, the second I get cell reception again, I’m making an appointment for a chiropractor.”
Bradley doesn’t respond, just shovels a forkful of eggs into his mouth, chewing slowly and watching you dispassionately. You can’t help but break into a smile the longer your stare-off goes, and you dip your head, stabbing at your pancakes as you hear Bradley chuckle across from you.
“Such a drama queen.”
“This from a man that talks to his car.”
“That’s not dramatic. That’s just polite.”
“It’s weird is what it is.”
“How are y’all findin’ everything?”
You glance up at the waitress’ question, offering a small smile and a, “It’s great, thanks,” As she tops up your mug of coffee, then shifts to fill Bradley’s. You make the mistake of glancing over at Bradley, and catching sight of him smiling up at her before he murmurs his thanks. You glance between him and the waitress before you force yourself to glance out of the window, taking a gulp of your fresh cup of coffee and trying to drown the jealousy bubbling up in you.
You really have no right to be jealous. Bradley Bradshaw has been your best friend since you were kids. Have you been in love with him since you were sixteen? Sure. But he doesn’t know that. How could he? You’ve never said a thing—you’ve never even hinted. You’ve had romantic relationships with other people. You’ve been telling yourself for the longest time that if you just ignore the feelings you have for him, they’ll go away.
So far, no luck. You can’t begrudge the guy some flirting, of course—he’s on leave, he’s relaxing. But hell, you don’t exactly like to watch.
“You ready to go?”
Bradley’s question jolts you from your moody window-watching, and you nod, setting your coffee mug down and scooching out of the booth. You shove your hands into your pockets and give the waitress a small smile (you can’t hate her; it’s not like she asked Bradley to make eyes at her over the dregs of your breakfast) before heading out of the diner. You’re only a step or two outside before Bradley flings his arm around your shoulders, drawing you into his side. You wobble a little, unable to help the way your smile widens as he keeps you close.
“You know where we’re goin’?” He asks.
“Uh-huh. You want me to drive?”
“I need a damn nap.”
“Now who’s being a drama queen?”
“I had a hike this morning to that gas station and back,” He reminds you.
“Mm, and why did you have to do that again?”
“Alright,” Bradley groans. He fishes into his jacket pocket and waits for you to hold out your palm before slapping his keys into it. You climb into the driver’s side, adjusting the seat and mirrors as you need before buckling up. You glance over, making sure that Bradley’s buckled in as well before you start the car. Bradley slouches down in the seat, drawing his discarded jacket up around himself as a blanket.
“We have real blankets.”
“This is already warm,” Bradley mumbles.
He’s asleep before you hit town limits. You stop at a red light and glance over, biting back a laugh. His sunglasses are askew; his mouth is wide open; his jacket is beginning to slip, showing the slope and bulge of his bicep. You reach out, gently adjusting the jacket around his shoulders before turning back to the road.
--
You’ve been doing these road trips every year since he enlisted. You fly to wherever he’s stationed and take his car from there. You’ve chosen different destinations every time, though it’s typically been a three day drive from whichever base he’s stationed at. If you guys take your time driving wherever it is, it eats up about a week and a half of his leave.
Of course, you keep in touch with Bradley no matter he’s stationed, but having this much uninterrupted time with him is both a blessing and a curse. You love your time with Bradley, of course—but you’re also in love with Bradley. You savor your time spent with him, and do your damndest to ignore the looks he gets from women, and the flirting and one night stands that he’s had in the past. You’ve had one night stands, sure, but never on these trips. He at least goes out of his way to go to their place. Still, it’s made some of your lonely nights in your cheap, cruddy motel room seem all the more cheap and cruddy.
He hasn’t gotten together with anyone on this trip. You’re a day away from reaching your destination; you’ll have three days in Portland, and then three days driving back. He’s got time.
The thought makes your stomach squirm with discomfort. You sigh softly, resting your head on your hand and peering out through the windshield, a single hand on the wheel. It’s a quiet stretch of road, and empty enough that you could floor it if you wanted to. You won’t, though. You don’t want to hit some rough patch of road and jolt Bradley awake.
A couple of hours later, you glance over, doing a double take as you see Bradley shift, then yawn widely. You turn your gaze back to the road as he pushes himself up in the seat, letting his jacket slide down to his lap.
“Why isn’t there music or anything?” He mumbles, voice a touch rough from his nap.
“I didn’t wanna wake you up.”
“I would’a be fine.”
You shrug a little as Bradley reaches out, flicking on the radio. You wince as static blares across the speakers, and relax as he hurriedly turns the volume down with a mutter of, “Shit, sorry.”
You only half-listen as he works the dial back and forth, looking for a signal. He finally manages to hit on some alt-rock channel. You glance over, smiling as he wrinkles his nose a little before leaning back in his seat, muttering, “Better than nothing.” He yawns widely again, stretches, then closes his eyes, tipping his head back against the seat. “How long was I out?”
“Couple of hours.”
“Mm.”
“You wanna stop?”
“Mm…How long are we on this?”
“We’re taking this the rest of the way, but our next scheduled stop is in about an hour.”
“I can wait.”
“You sure?”
“Uh-huh.” It’s another moment before Bradley twists in his seat, rooting around in a bag for a moment before you hear the crinkle of a wrapper and see him settle back down in your periphery. “We cross into Oregon yet?”
“Bout an hour ago.”
“Aww, you didn’t wake me up,” Bradley pouts, opening the protein bar he’s grabbed.
“What precisely did you want me to wake you up for?”
“You know, that thing we do where we say ‘Welcome to blah blah blah’...And we go, Wooo!” He waves his hands for emphasis before taking a bite from the bar.
“You wanna do it now?”
“No,” He grumbles, moodily tearing the snack's wrapper. “Won’t be the same.”
You roll your eyes. “You realize this little performance is cementing you as the biggest drama queen in this car?”
“Til we have to sleep in here again, yeah,” He says between bites of the bar.
“Oh,” You laugh, shaking your head, “That is not happening again.”
“Ever?”
“Never.”
“You’re gonna hurt her feelings.”
“She doesn’t have feelings. She’s not even a she. It’s a car, not a Transformer.”
“One more wisecrack like that and I’m revoking your driving privileges.”
“Sorry daaaaaad.”
“Smartass.”
“Dumbass.”
“Here.”
You glance down, spotting the half-eaten protein bar. You dip your head, taking a bite out of it before looking up again, chewing before muttering your thanks.
“Want another bite?” He asks.
“Nah, ‘m alright.”
“C’mooooon,” Bradley waves it back and forth beneath your nose, “You know you wannaaaa. They’re your faaaavoriiiiiite.”
You snort, leaning out of the brush of the bar against your lip.
“Cut it out,” You chuckle, “Seriously, I’m fine.”
“It’s the last one.”
You duck your head, catching hold of the rest of the bar and tugging it out of the wrapper with your teeth. Bradley laughs beside you, and you raise your hand, taking hold of the bit of the bar still hanging out of your mouth.
“Should’a said in the first place,” You mutter as you chew. “We’ll have to get more in Eugene.”
“Might have some wherever we’re stopping for lunch.”
“Maybe. I kinda wanna make Medford a quick stop.”
“Why?”
“‘Cause if we get to Eugene by four, we can check in, get in a quick nap, grab some dinner, and go to the Track Town Fall Fair.”
“Wee-hoo!” Bradley crows. “Goddamn, I don’t know how you always find a fair when we take these trips.”
“Doesn’t matter how I employ my dark powers, only that I use it for good.”
“For good?”
“Yes. We get whiplash from the bumper cars, you get funnel cake, and then you win me a toy at the shooting gallery.”
“You make a…fair point.”
“Fuck, Bradshaw, that was awful,” You laugh, then pop the rest of the protein bar into your mouth.
--
The fair is bright, and poppy, and loud. You can’t help but grin as you and Bradley stroll through the rows of games and food stalls. There’s a ferris wheel not too far off, lit up and spinning lazily.
“Bumper cars first?” You ask.
“I think we oughta wait for dinner to settle,” Bradley winces. He curls his arm around your shoulders, drawing you into his side. You cuddle close, wrapping your arm around his waist and looking around.
“What, then?”
“You’re so impatient,” He chuckles, lips brushing your temple as he turns his head.
“Am not,” You mumble.
“Bet I can kick your ass at milk bottles.”
“Oh, you’re on, Bradshaw.”
--
There’s only one bed.
You knew that when you got there—when the receptionist at the motel told you blandly that they only had a single available, and would that be alright. You didn’t have much of a choice—you’d looked into the other motels in the area, and they were either full-up, or had alarming reviews. You managed to forget during the fair. You were so caught up in it—in the churros, and the funnel cake, and the bumper cars, and the ferris wheel, and the tilt-a-whirl—
But you remember as soon as you come back that there’s only one bed. Well, it’s hard to miss. It’s the biggest thing in the bland little room. You find yourself absently drawing the plush shark toy that Bradley won you a little closer to yourself. You walk around to your side of the bed (well, what you’ve decided is your side of the bed), and set the shark down on the bedside table.
“You wanna take the bathroom first?” Bradley asks.
“Nah, you go ahead.”
“You sure?”
“Mhm.” You smile at Bradley, watching him head into the bathroom and waiting for him to shut the door before you hurriedly get changed into your sweatpants and sleep shirt. You grab your toiletry bag as you hear Bradley open the bathroom door.
You take a little longer than necessary to wash your face and brush your teeth. It’s not going to be so weird sharing a bed with Bradley. You’ve shared beds before. Hell, you shared the car just last night. You sigh, bracing your hands on the sink. Maybe you’re less worried about being weird, and more worried about getting used to the feeling of Bradley holding you like he holds other girls.
--
It’s a tight squeeze. The two of you shift back and forth, trying to find the best position before you both burst into laughter.
“Here,” He chuckles, rolling onto his side, “Roll over.”
You shift, turning over to rest on your side. It’s only a moment before Bradley tugs you back against his chest to keep you from falling out of bed.
“Alright?” He asks.
“Mhm,” You hum as steadily as you can. You can vaguely make out the outline of the shark on the nightstand. You bite your lip as Bradley’s nose brushes the nape of your neck.
“Night, Bradley,” You murmur.
“Night.”
--
You’re not sure how long it takes you to knock out. You just know that when you wake up, the room is flooding with blue morning light, and Bradley seems to still be sound asleep. He’s breathing steadily behind you. His roughening cheek is tickling your nape (he almost never shaves when he’s on leave). His fingers flex where they’re curled in your t-shirt, then slide a touch, brushing the skin of your belly. You bite your lip, fighting to keep your breathing even.
You could get up, of course—you probably wouldn’t wake him. You could slide from his grasp and shower, or grab your phone and check in with your family, or go out to the car and double-check the route for that day (there’s really no need to double-check—it’s the I-5 straight up to Portland).
Instead, you slide your hand down over Bradley’s, resting it gently there, ready to pull it away at any second. When Bradley doesn’t shift or make a sound, you relax back against him. You let yourself close your eyes again, and revel in the closeness.
--
Your first day in Portland is busy. You’ve gone to the International Rose Test Garden, gone to the farmer’s market, and explored the Alberta Arts District. Your second day, you and Bradley split up and do your own thing, like you always do. You meet for drinks that night (having already gone back to your hotel room and deposited all of the books that you bought at Powell’s City of Books).
“You gonna make me guess how many you bought?” Bradley asks, picking at the basket of fries rules that you’ve been sharing.
“You’ll see later.”
“Damn. It’s gotta be bad if you’re not even giving me a hint,” Bradley chuckles before nodding to your empty beer. “You want another one?”
“Mhm.”
Before Bradley can get the bartender’s attention, someone comes up to the bar beside him, calling, “Ay, Charlie!”
The bartender waves his acknowledgement. The man nods, then glances over toward you and Bradley with an apologetic smile.
“Sorry,” He chuckles. His gaze catches on yours, then sweeps your body. You turn your head, taking up a few fries and shoving them into your mouth. The bartender comes over, taking the guy’s order, then taking Bradley’s. The guy knocks on the bar, drawing your attention just a touch before he walks back to his friends.
“...I saw that,” Bradley says. You shake your head, humming in a noncommittal way. Bradley scoffs out a laugh, tacking on, “C’mon.”
“What?” You ask, turning to get a better look at him. His brows raise, head tipping forward just a touch.
“What?” You repeat, shrugging irritatedly. Bradley looks back in the direction that the guy went in.
“He’s not bad,” He offers. “A little scrawny.”
“Okay.”
“Looks like he uses natural deodorant that doesn’t work and only drinks IPAs.”
“You can let it go now.”
“Why not go for it?” Bradley presses. “You’re never gonna see these people again…Or maybe you will,” He nudges your shoulder with his. “Maybe he’s your soulmate.”
“My soulmate wouldn’t use natural deodorant.”
“What about his taste in IPAs?”
“Irrelevant.”
“So?”
“Let it go, Bradley.”
“Alright.” And he does, for a moment. Then—“There someone you’re not telling me about?”
“What?” You scoff.
“Just—It’s been a while, you know, since you’ve told me about anyone.”
“Maybe there hasn’t been anyone to talk about, you think about that?”
“I mean, maybe, but that doesn’t make sense.”
“Oh, please—”
“You’re smart, you’re beautiful—”
You’re gonna be sick—
“You’re an amazing person,” Bradley tacks on as the bartender sets your drinks down, “I don’t get how you haven’t found somebody—”
“Okay, you know what.”
You take hold of your beer, sliding off of the bar stool and striding over to the guy that had given you that look. You’re doing it out of spite; you’re doing it because you can’t listen to Bradley say any more of what he was saying, how he was saying it.
You don’t know what time Bradley leaves. You don’t know what time you get back to your hotel room. You just know that you’re alone, and tired, and in a shitty mood. You look moodily at the plush shark that you’ve put on your bed, then take it up. You drop it onto the armchair in the corner of the room, putting your jacket over it before you plop onto the bed. You let yourself sag back against the mattress, drawing in a deep, shaking breath. Stupid. What you’d done was so, so stupid. Bradley was just asking a question. Sure, it was a question that you were deeply uncomfortable with, a question that you couldn’t answer without ruining the greatest friendship in your life.
Hell—you worry that you may’ve ruined it, anyway.
--
There’s a knock on your door at nine the next morning. You step out of your bathroom, toothbrush still clenched between your teeth. You peer through the peephole, then step back, opening the door.
Bradley looks as unsure as you feel. You nod him inside, shutting the door behind him and hurrying back to the bathroom to finish brushing your teeth. When you come back out, you find Bradley sitting on the edge of the bed, your plush shark in his hands. He glances up at you, then back down at the shark.
“You name him yet?” He asks. You walk over to Bradley, sitting down beside him.
“I think he looks like a Milton.”
“Milton?” He repeats, brows raising. “...Guess I can see it.”
The two of you sit in silence for a little while before Bradley finally offers:
“Sorry I pushed.”
“S’okay...Sorry I threw a fit.”
“S’okay. I couldn’t keep the title of biggest drama queen in the car.”
Bradley nudges your shoulder lightly with his, and you nudge his in turn, unable to help the small smile growing on your lips.
“Can I ask an inappropriate question?” Bradley hedges.
“I didn’t fuck him.”
“Okay.”
“...Was that the question?”
“Yep…Wanna go get breakfast?”
“Yep.”
--
“Ho…Ly…Fuck.”
“Shut up.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Shut up.”
“Did you get all’a these in case we run out of gas again?” Bradley asks, scanning the stack of books that you bought in the corner of the trunk. “You know, enough to read, and enough to keep a fire going?”
“We are not going to run out of gas,” You insist, heaving your bag into the trunk.
“What if we do?”
“I’m never going to talk to you again.”
“No really, what if we do.”
“No really, I’m never going to talk to you again.”
“...But if we do.”
You sigh heavily, leaning against the car and resting your hand on your popped hip. “If we do,” You press on the word, “Then you’re sleeping in the backseat alone, without any blankets.”
“Guess I can cuddle up with all of your books. All…One, two, three, four—”
“Shut up.”
“Hang on, I’m still counting—”
“Shut up—”
“I just reached double digits—”
“I will close the car door on your hand.”
--
“Bye Oregoooon—” You call over Bradley’s,
“Welcome to California!”
You each let out a Wooo! as he drives back across state lines.
“Made it up on the way back,” Bradley grins, settling back in the driver’s seat and glancing into the mirror, then over his shoulder as he changes lanes.
“You happy now?” You ask.
“Been happy the whole time.”
“The whole time?”
“Ninety-eight percent.”
“Think I can guess the two percent.”
“Bet you can’t.”
“Oh no?”
“No.”
“So it wasn’t the fight?”
“No. Friends fight sometimes, we’re fine.”
“So what was it?”
“It was the fact that you kicked my ass at milk bottles.”
You cackle, smile widening as Bradley looks at you with a grin.
“You’re insane, Bradshaw.”
“You know it, baby.”
You’re still laughing at him, so the term of endearment manages to bounce off of you outwardly. Inwardly, it sinks into your chest. It was probably a slip-up, a one-off—but you’re gonna be thinking about it a lot.
--
“Thank you, ma’am.”
You only just manage not to roll your eyes at his murmur, and his smile. Ma’am. For cryin’ out loud. Bradley’s always been polite, sure, but the way he leans into ma’am now is surely something he’s accidentally picked up from Hangman. It’s gotta be—though you don’t think he’d admit to it. Hell, he might even take offense to it.
You’ll have to keep that in your back pocket for later.
For now, you just pick your fork up, poke at what is, frankly, a fantastic piece of key lime pie, and ignore the way the waitress giggles and tells Bradley that he’s welcome—anytime. But you can’t help the nagging question that you loose once she walks away:
“Gonna go for it?”
“Go for what?” Bradley frowns. “I was just being nice.”
You raise your brows at him a touch before you concede: “Okay.” You don’t want another fight like Portland. Bradley takes up the other fork, snagging a piece of pie. He doesn’t eat it right away, offers, “I mean she’s cute, but…”
“But what?”
“I’m not interested.”
“...Okay.”
“Wanna know why I’m not interested?”
“If you wanna tell me.”
You glance over at Bradley, waiting. Instead of answering, he takes a bigger chunk out of the pie and crams it into his mouth. You snort, rolling your eyes.
“Good answer, Bradshaw.”
--
“‘Just a little detour’,” You mimic.
“Alright.”
“‘We’ll just take a few of the calmer backroads’.”
“Alright.”
“‘May as well get a better look at the state’—”
“Alright,” Bradley groans loudly, getting back into the car from adjusting the soft top, slamming the door shut behind himself. You huff, wrapping your arms around your middle and glaring at the darkening sky through the windshield.
“Can’t believe this,” You grumble.
“I said I was sorry.”
“Hmph.”
“...You want me to walk back to the gas station now?”
“No.”
“...You gonna make me sleep in the backseat?”
“I should.”
“But?”
“Just get the blankets, Bradshaw.”
The two of you get into position faster than last time. You lean back against his chest, arms folded petulantly over your middle as he tucks you both in. When he worms his hands under the blankets, you tuck your hands under your armpits, out of his reach. You feel Bradley patting along your folded arms for your hands, and hear him sigh as he feels your wrists tucked so tightly against your body.
“Gimme your hands.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“You can’t keep ‘em like that all night. They’ll fall asleep.”
“Good.”
Bradley groans frustratedly. He curls around you, pressing his face into your neck. You curl your hands more tightly into fists, fighting to ignore the rising tide of affection. You’re annoyed. You’re gonna stay annoyed.
“Please give me your hands,” He murmurs. You glare through the opposite window for a moment. Then your eyelids flutter as Bradley smooths his hands over your shoulders, warming you. You let your eyes close fully, drawing in a deep breath. Damnit. Damn this man. You hesitate, then unfold your arms, drawing your hands out. You feel Bradley’s lips pull into a smile, and bite your lip as you think you feel him drop a kiss to your neck. He takes hold of your hands, intertwining your fingers and settling the two of you back again, cuddling you close and curling his arms around you.
“...Thin ice, Bradshaw,” You mutter.
“Sweet dreams.”
“Hmph.”
--
“You still mad at me?”
You lift your hand away from the steering wheel just long enough to flip him off before reaching for your coffee cup.
“C’mon, it wasn’t that bad,” Bradley tacks on.
“You’re paying for my chiropractor.”
“Drama queen.”
“Asshat.”
“Whoa, hey,” He reaches into the backseat, drawing up your plush shark. “Don’t swear in front of the kid.”
You roll your eyes, shaking your head.
“Watch it with your speed,” Bradley adds, setting Milton down in his lap.
“I’m going like fifteen over the limit.”
“I know, that’s why I said to watch it.”
“I’m trying to get us back on track. Your scenic route has taken more time than we originally budgeted, and that’s not counting your second gas mishap.”
“I’ve got ‘til the end of the week, you don’t have to speed home.”
“Yeah, but I don’t. I have a flight back home on Thursday.”
“Could change the ticket. You took Friday off, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but changing it this late isn’t gonna be cheap.” You glance over when Bradley goes quiet and find him fiddling with Milton’s tail. You turn to look out of the windshield again, biting the inside of your cheek. You sigh softly, taking your foot off of the gas and merging out of the fast lane. “I’ll take a look the next time you’re driving,” You offer after a moment.
“...’Kay.”
You reach out, blindly poking at Bradley’s cheek, muttering, “Cut it out.”
“What?”
“Pouting.”
“I’m not pouting—Ow!” Bradley whacks at your hand as you accidentally jab him in the nose. You huff, eyeing the road signs.
“Hey Bradshaw.”
“What.”
“You ever been to Santa Barbara?”
“No.”
May as well. You glance in the rear view, flipping your signal on and merging toward the exit.
“What are you doing?” Bradley frowns. You shrug, putting your foot down to make the exit on time.
“Just taking a little detour.”
--
You usually hate not having a plan when you’re visiting somewhere new, but this time, you’re just letting yourself wander. You go to the zoo, you spend time at the wharf. Sunset finds the two of you sitting on the beach, your shoes discarded, the sand beneath your toes. The breeze coming off of the water is a touch chilly, and you smile as Bradley rests his jacket around your shoulders. You scooch closer to him, pressing your thigh against his. You watch the waves as they creep up the beach and retreat, and listen to the steady lap of them.
Bradley sighs, curling his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer, nuzzling against your temple. You cuddle into him, resting your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes, letting the feeling of his body and the sound of the rolling waves envelope you.
--
“I don’t like fighting with you,” He mumbles.
“What, ‘cause I love it?”
“You know what I mean.”
You smile, snuggling a little closer to Bradley. The only available room at the motel had two twin beds, which was more than reasonable for your needs. You’d started out in your own bed, but when you hadn’t been able to sleep, you’d climbed into bed with him. He’d pulled his covers up around you without missing a beat, drawing you into his chest. You slide a leg over his now, wrapping your arm around his middle and shifting your head on his shoulder. He slides his hand up and down your back in slow, soothing movements.
“...It never feels like enough,” Bradley admits softly. You frown, tipping your chin up to look at him. Before you can ask, he tacks on, “My time with you. Never feels like enough.”
You lower your head, biting your lip and nodding.
“I know,” You murmur. “Doesn’t feel like enough for me, either.”
Bradley sighs, nuzzling your hair and drawing in a deep breath.
“Go to sleep, Bradley.”
“I don’t wanna.”
“Why?”
“The sooner I do, sooner it’ll be morning. Sooner it’s morning, sooner you’ll go home.”
You smile, chest fluttering as you curl your fingers in the fabric of his sleep shirt.
“So you’re gonna stay up all night and make me do all of the driving tomorrow?” You tease.
“Long as you promise to ease up on that lead foot.”
“Oh, please. Doing 75 in a 60 mile zone is not a lead foot.”
“Damn near.”
“Vying for the title of drama queen again?”
Bradley chuckles softly. Your stomach flips as his fingers bunch the fabric of your shirt up a little, his pinkie trailing over your lower back.
“Go to sleep, Bradley.”
“Make me.”
“And how am I supposed to do that?”
“I don’t know, you’ll think of something.”
You snort, tipping your head up and resting your chin on his shoulder. You move a little too fast—Bradley’s still nuzzling against your hair as you shift. His lips brush over your forehead, then skim down the slope of your nose. As you go still, Bradley’s breath brushes your lips. Your heart pounds in your ears; you’re certain your palm is sweating where it’s pressed against his shirt. You can’t quite make out Bradley’s expression in the dim light of the room. You feel his fingers tightening in your shirt before he tips his chin. His lips brush, then press warmly against yours. Your eyes widen a touch, your heart leaping into your throat. Shit—shit. This is everything you’ve ever wanted, but you suddenly find that you can’t move.
Your shock and inaction seem to draw Bradley out of whatever’s overtaken him, and your heart drops into your stomach as he leans away, mumbling, “Shit—Shit, I’m sorry—”
Your brain catches up with your body, your hand lifting away from his shirt as Bradley starts to push himself to sit up. Another apology is falling from his lips as you hook your fingers in his collar, drawing him close again. He doesn’t finish his second I’m sorry as you catch his lips in a kiss. Your panicked thoughts go quiet as his hands flex, then clutch at your wrist. You nearly whimper as Bradley draws you fully on top of him, his groan vibrating against your lips. You plant one of your hands in the mattress, using it to hold yourself up over him as the two of you shift and adjust. He slips his hand up under your shirt, fingers splaying wide against your back. You slide your hand up from his collar to cup his cheek, palm pricking with the feeling of his stubble.
You lightly slip your tongue along the seam of his lips, whimpering softly as Bradley’s lips part, his tongue teasing tenderly against yours. He moans, tipping his head a touch. Your kisses deepen, your tongues twining as you press your bodies together. Bradley gives your shoulder a nudge as he shifts the two of you to sit up. You lean back, gripping the hem of your top and tugging it up and off. You see Bradley’s shirt flung to the side before he raises his hands, cupping your face and drawing you back in. You shift on the bed, straddling his hips and pressing closely to him.
It shouldn’t be so easy. It shouldn’t be so easy to sink into his arms, into his kisses, into his touch like this. It should feel foreign, but it feels like the most natural thing in the world. You smooth your fingers through his hair, curling the strands around your fingers and giving a slight tug. Bradley’s lips part in a moan and you dive in, sweeping your tongue into his mouth. Bradley’s hands smooth over your sides, then up over your shoulders. His palms are a little rough from work, but his touch is careful, and tender. He ducks back from your kiss, pressing one of your chin before his lips drift, smoothing along the line of your throat. You shiver at the brush of his kisses, the light scrape of his facial hair leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.
You tip your head down, biting your lip as Bradley gently grasps your breasts, massaging them. He dips his head, swiping his thumb over a budding nipple before lapping over it. You whimper, fingers tightening in his hair and pressing up against his lips. He draws your tit between his lips, giving it a suck, the tip of his tongue flicking against your nipple.
“Fuck, Bradley,” You mumble, hips shifting down against his. He hums softly, grinding up against you in turn.
“Lay back,” He murmurs against your skin. You do a little reluctantly, climbing off of his lap and laying back on the bed. Bradley hunkers down over you, fingers curling in the band of your pajama shorts. You feel him peering up at you in the darkness, his lips brushing your belly.
“Can I?” He murmurs. You nod, and Bradley tuts softly. “I gotta hear it, baby.”
You huff softly and reach down, resting your hands atop his.
“Yes,” You breathe, giving his hands a little squeeze.
--
You’ve imagined this, over and over. You’ve thought about how it might be between the two of you—tentative? Rushed? You’ve imagined what he would feel like—his body over yours, his thighs pushing yours wide, his breath brushing your skin.
You never could’ve thought it would be like this.
Your greedy cunt throbs around his cock as he eases it just a little deeper. Your nails dig into the muscle of his shoulders, your eyes rolling back into your head as you adjust to him. He growls against your neck, the push and heat of his breath against your jaw.
“Bradley,” You whimper. He grunts in turn, smoothing his hand over the meat of your thigh and tugging it up just a touch higher around his hip. A broken curse leaves your lips as he eases in to the hilt. He tips his chin up, sinking his teeth into the skin of your neck, laying a sharp nip, then sucking the sting from the skin. You can’t bring yourself to gripe with him about the inevitable bloom of the hickey there. You just raise a hand to fist in his hair, turning your head and catching his lips in a heated kiss. Your grip tightens on him, pussy fluttering as he begins to shallowly roll his hips. You let your head tip back onto the pillows, eyes sliding shut as he leans away. You feel him shift, planting his knees before he draws back. Your breath is punched out of you as he begins to thrust steadily.
Your toes curl as you tip your hips up toward him. You don’t bother to stop or staunch the whines and pleas that slip past your lips. You open your eyes as you feel Bradley lean over you, tucking his hand beneath your head and tipping your head up just a touch. You find Bradley’s eyes searching your face; his mussed hair curls down over his forehead; his lips are puffed from your kisses, and parted. You watch as his tongue swipes along his plush lower lip, and you find yourself straining up for a kiss. He tightens his grip on your nape, humming softly as his lips meet yours in a desperate, searching kiss.
You push your body up against him, curling your legs around his and sliding your arms down his back. You pout when he draws back from you, and raise your brows as he rests his hands on the bedframe. You only have a moment to adjust, to catch sight of the devious curl of his lips before his hips begin to hammer against yours.
--
When you begin to rouse, you think it may’ve been a dream. And then you become acutely aware of the slightly scratchy sheets against your bare skin, the soreness in your body, and the warmth and press of Bradley’s body behind you on the narrow little bed. You breathe in elation, and then breathe out panic, your eyes opening wide.
You cannot believe you did that. What were the two of you thinking? And what the hell does this even mean? You’ve known Bradley in one way since you were kids and this is so, so terribly different. You draw in a shaky breath, smoothing your hand over your face and trying to steady yourself. This is going to be fine. Whatever this happens, this is going to be fine, right? You’re adults, you can talk about this calmly and rationally—
You suck in a stunned breath as you feel Bradley drawing you back into his chest, and can’t help the soft giggle that leaves you as he brushes his coarse cheek against your shoulder.
“Are you up yet?” He mumbles. “‘M hungry.”
“Mhm.”
“Think they do room service?”
“We’re not at a fucking Hilton, Bradley. The closest they’ve got here is an overpriced vending machine.”
“...We have to get dressed, huh.”
“Yep.”
“Lame.”
You smile, pushing yourself to sit up. You roll your neck, sighing softly as you release tension. Before you can get up, Bradley curls his hand around your wrist, mumbling, “Hey.”
You turn to look at him, a smile growing unwittingly on your lips as he blinks sleepily up at you. Fuck, he looks good. He looks relaxed, and happy. You never want to forget the sight of him like this. He tugs you back, pulling you to meet him halfway as he props himself up on his elbow. You lean in, pecking his lip, and grinning as his hand lifts from your wrist, cupping your cheek. You’re going to pull away. You’re going to get up, shower, get dressed, and look up places for the two of you to get breakfast…Right after this next kiss…Or the one after that…
You groan softly as Bradley’s arm hooks around your shoulder, drawing you back down with him. You rest your hand on his abs, cuddling into his chest as you trade soft, sleepy kisses.
“Mm…Bradley?”
“Mm.”
“I thought…” You mumble against his lips, between kisses. “I thought…We were getting breakfast.”
Bradley grunts, lowering his arm to grip the covers and pull them back up over the two of you.
“...In a minute.”
--
You’re still in bed an hour later. You groan softly, bouncing in his lap, grinding down on his cock as Bradley mottles the skin of your collarbone with his lips and teeth. His hands grasp your ass, squeezing and guiding you as he pants against your skin. You shiver as you feel a familiar stirring in your belly.
“Bradley,” You warn.
“Yeah?” He murmurs; you can hear the smile in his voice. You loose a shaky hum, nodding, curling your arms around his shoulders and cuddling closer.
“Fuck, c’mon,” He urges, driving his hips up into you. You whine his name out, squeezing down around him as your orgasm wells up and crests sharply. You keep bouncing, sensitive and shaking as Bradley keeps fucking up into you. It’s only another few moments before his hips stutter, then slam up. You moan as Bradley eases the two of you back, laying back down as his softening cock slips from you. You curl up into his side as his fingers sweep tenderly over the nape of your neck. You draw in a deep breath, the pounding of your heart slowing as the two of you come down together.
“...I’m starving,” He mumbles. You roll your eyes, a laugh bubbling up.
“Maybe we should get up?”
“Probably should. Why didn’t you suggest that before?”
“Oh, my god,” You roll your eyes, rolling over and sliding out of his arms, “You know what—”
“What, are you getting up or something?”
“I am showering alone, Bradshaw.”
“That doesn’t sound like any fun.”
“I’m not leaving you any hot water.”
--
“We should check out the maritime museum,” You comment, flipping through a pamphlet. Bradley snuggles closer to you, curling his arm around your shoulder and looking down at the pamphlet. You can only imagine the looks you’re getting with the way the two of you are curled up together on the same side of the booth. Frankly, you can’t bring yourself to care.
“Maybe next time,” He offers. You frown, turning to look at him.
“Why next time?”
He shrugs a little, raising his hand to scratch his cheek, his budding beard rasping beneath his nails.
“Gotta get you back down to San Diego. Flight’s tonight,” He reminds you softly. You smile, gently nudging his shoulder with yours.
“My flight’s on Saturday. I changed it while you were showering,” You admit. Friday flights had been way too pricey, and the time you got on Saturday is going to suck—but it gives you another day and a half with Bradley. His eyes widen a touch, a smile spreading across his lips.
“You did what?” He murmurs.
“I changed it,” You repeat flippantly before turning back to the pamphlet. “So. Museum?”
Bradley doesn’t say a thing. He just presses his face into your neck, peppering the skin with little kisses that tickle, making you giggle and squirm.
--
“We should probably talk about this.”
You practically say it into your dufflebag as you fold your pajama bottoms. You’re too nervous to say it to his face. You expect Bradley to make a joke. Instead, he reaches out, grasping your hips. You take a couple of wobbly steps back when he tugs, smiling as he draws you down into his lap. He curls his arms around your middle securely, resting his chin on your shoulder and sighing softly.
“If you wanna leave everything that’s happened here,” He offers softly, “I’d understand.”
You bite your lip, peering down at where he’s holding you. You smooth your hands over his, shaking your head a little.
“I don’t want that,” You admit before nervously asking, “Do you?”
“No.”
A relieved breath eases out of you, your shoulders untensing a little.
“Okay.”
You turn your head, pressing a kiss to his temple, smiling as he catches hold of your hands and intertwines your fingers.
“I’m gonna tell you something,” He warns, “And I think you’re gonna…Be a little mad about it.”
Your brow furrows at the assertion.
“Okay?”
“...I ran out of gas on purpose.”
“You what?” You howl, jumping up out of his lap and turning to face him. He’s smiling, hands up in apology.
“I—”
“Both times?”
“No! Just the second time. The first one was a total accident.”
“Why the—” You take up a pillow, whacking him lightly with him as he raises his hands and tries to catch hold of the pillow, “Why the—goddamn hell did you do that!”
“I wanted to spend more time with you!”
He says it through his laughter, but it makes you stop. He catches hold of the pillow, tugging you closer before gently prying it out of your grip and tossing it aside in favor of taking your hands.
“I wanted to spend more time with you,” He repeats, drawing you closer, “And I missed holding you.”
You sigh softly, squeezing his hands softly.
“There were easier ways to do that,” You mutter.
“I know.”
“...It was fricking cold.”
“I know.”
“I was so pissed.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry.”
You sigh heavily, shoulders sagging as the irritation drains fully from you.
“If you ever do that again on purpose—”
“I won’t.”
“You promise?”
“I swear.”
“You better.”
“I won’t…You still mad at me?”
“...No,” You pout. He grins, tugging you closer to stand between his legs, and you smile, unable to help yourself.
“You’re insane, Bradshaw.”
“You know it, baby.”
#Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x Reader#Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x You#Bradley Rooster Bradshaw/Reader#Bradley Rooster Bradshaw/You#Bradley Rooster Bradshaw fic#Bradley Rooster Bradshaw imagine#Roadtrip Rooster
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the one with the bathing suit (b.r.b.)
a/n: yeah.... i don't got an explanation. takes place in the flight risk universe
summary: The time Bradley saw Sunshine in a bathing suit and was allowed to do something about it.
warnings: suggestive themes/comments, bathing suits (because that's a warning in and of itself), swearing, brief mentions of insecurities, brief mention of body sizes, future Bradley and Sunshine, this is my nod to all my fellow vanderpump rules watchers, unedited
Bradley's hand slides into your own as the two of you enter the Target, the cool air hitting you as you enter the store. You slide the sunglasses up to sit atop of your head as you pause, figuring out where the Customer Service desk is.
"Thanks for coming with me." You say as you spot it, tugging Bradley along.
He hummed. "No problem, my love. Shame the pants didn't fit."
You rolled your eyes at the memory of trying them on for him after an impromptu shopping trip with Amelia the other day. The two of you'd bickered about whether or not you should keep them, the pants a hair too small to be comfortable.
Bradley, however, had appreciated how they had made your ass look.
("You say that about everything I wear." You'd said with a scoff. He'd only been able to offer you that cheshire grin of his.)
You let your eyes wander as the two of you wait in line. Target had just put out their selection bathing suits for the summer and you were somehow always surprised by the fact that they continuously got cuter every year.
Bradley squeezed your hand when he caught on to where you were looking. "I think you need a new suit, my love."
You roll your eyes as you step forward in line. "And where in the world would I wear it?"
"I think you forget you live in a beach town now, Sunshine. You'd get good use out of it."
You roll your eyes again as you step up to the desk. "You just want to see me in a bikini."
Bradley doesn't deny the point as the girl working the counter begins to process the return. You thank her as she returns the money to the card and exit the area, headed for the door. Bradley's hand in your own stops you, tugging you over to the bathing suit area.
"B..." You mutter, eyeing the bikinis anxiously. "I don't need to make myself insecure on purpose today."
"I'm looking for me, I don't know what you're talking about." He says, bypassing the bikinis into the much smaller one-piece section.
You snort as your eyes fall on a rosey-pink colored one-piece. "That's cute." You comment, rifling through the sizes. "Too bad they don't have one in my size."
"This one might fit." He says, pulling it from the rack.
You eye it nervously. It was adorable, with an open back and straps that were to die for. "There is no way in hell that'll hold up my boobs." You blurt out.
He grins. "Sure it could."
You shake your head, taking it from his hands and putting it back on the rack. "I hate bathing suits. Make me so insecure about my thighs."
He clears his throat. "Respectfully, my love, no one is looking at your thighs when you are wearing a bathing suit." His eyes roam over your body. "Much more distracting parts of you to look at." You shoot him a look, even as you feel your cheeks warm.
"We need toilet paper."
-
"I have a present." Bradley announces as he enters the house. "You're watching the new part of the reunion without me?! You said you'd wait!"
Your eyes flicker to the paused screen, Andy Cohen in the middle of proclaiming "My cards!"
"'M rewatching last week's episode."
Bradley's shoulders visibly deflate at the explanation, relieved you hadn't gone ahead and watched the reunion episodes about the Scandoval that had rocked the nation without him.
You smile, pushing yourself up on the couch. "Whatcha got?"
"I bought that bathing suit you were looking at this weekend."
Your face falls. "What?"
He holds his hands out, quick to soothe you. "You don't have to keep it if you don't like it." He rushes out. "But you didn't try it on, and it was cute, and you've been saying you needed a new suit anyways."
You sigh, pushing yourself off the couch and grabbing the Target bag from his hands. "I'll try it on." You say as you approach the stairs to go up to the bathroom. "But I really doubt it'll fit."
He follows you closely, sitting on the edge of the bed as you disappear into the bathroom to try it on. You take a deep breath, shedding your clothing to pull the material over your body.
You take another deep breath, nervously opening your eyes as you turn back to the mirror.
You... You don't hate it.
You tug at the straps, adjusting the top.
You actually really don't hate it.
The material is comfortable and does surprisingly fit. Your eyes flit nervously over your chest, fighting the urge to cover it up.
"You wanna see?" You call out.
"Obviously."
You take a calming breath, unlocking the bathroom door, slipping into the bedroom.
Bradley's eyes go wide as his jaw falls open. You roll your eyes, huffing out a nervous laugh. "Okay, B, don't gotta gawk."
He shakes his head. "Nuh-uh, 'm gonna."
You feel your cheeks warm as you struggle to look at him. "'S just a bathing suit. You've seen me in those before."
"Yeah, and this is the first time I actually get to do something about it. Sunshine, you look so fucking good." He says, his eyes still roaming your body. "Holy fuck, and I spent years not getting to appreciate you in one of these things. What the fuck was I thinking?"
You let out another nervous laugh, looking back down at your feet. You hadn't even remembered to take your socks off before trying the suit on, not even thinking Bradley would see the piece on you.
"How do you feel about it?" He asks after a minute, his voice much softer.
You shrug, finally raising your head to meet his gaze. "I don't... hate it."
He grins. "Yeah?"
You shrug, taking another step closer towards him. He reaches out for you, hands falling to your waist.
"I've always loved the way you look in a bathing suit Sunshine, but fuck." He says, gaze planting right on your chest.
You duck your head, cheeks growing even warmer. "Not always."
He tilts his head in disagreement, clearly remembering the lake day from your camping trip in college.
("Careful now, Bradshaw." Eli had said to him. "You spend too much longer appreciating her tits in that suit and you're gonna get punched in the mouth.")
"You gonna keep it?" He says, pulling you onto his lap.
You nod, letting out a breathe. "Yeah, I think so."
He grins, shuffling the two of you back further on the bed. "Perfect." He says, his hand gliding down your body. One plants itself firmly on your ass while the other makes it's way back up towards the straps. "Because now I get to do this," He says, tugging at the straps, letting it unravel. "Without worrying about having to return it."
He captures you in a searing kiss, hands coming up to push the material off of your body.
#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw fic#top gun: maverick#top gun: maverick fic#flight risk
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Mar[r]y Me - part 8.5.2
pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mariella “M&M” Vertucci (fem!OC)
summary: A love story told through friendship, laughter, and food.
series warnings: 18+ minors DNI, discussion of insecurities, difficult family relationships, discussions of food and alcohol use, discussions of body image, conversations on what it’s like to be a fat woman trying to date in today’s society, extreme fluff, like soooo much flirting, warnings to be added as needed
word count: 3.6k
previous part | series masterlist | main masterlist
note: happy Friday! I hope everyone had lovely holidays and 2024 is going well for you so far! I did have some issues tagging people so apologizes if you didn't notified! I really loved writing this chapter, especially since it's going to help set the stage for the rest of the story! (only 4 more parts to go! isn't that crazy??) please be safe if you have snow coming towards you this weekend, and enjoy these two pining and yearning for each other more than ever.
part 8.5.2 - rambling and rings
Friday, April 16, 2021
Mary waves at the obnoxiously large SUV as Slider honks and drives away. Leaning against the entryway table, she slips her heels off and wiggles her painted toes at the feeling of the soft runner beneath her feet. Shuffling over to the entertainment console, she hums as she connects her phone, choosing the song that was on in the car.
The dreamy guitar intro floats through the air, making her smile. And the last beams of golden sunshine disappear as she dances through the living room, enjoying the peaceful feeling that’s settled in her chest and closing the blinds in between twirls.
Good things are happening at work, rumbles that there’s a promotion coming on the horizon. The monthly call back home to her parents hadn’t ended in tears for the first time in months. Most of her evenings are spent in the company of at least one Dagger family member, helping Kris and Dani with their kids or enjoying the adult-only life with Aaron and Flora. Bradley is messaging her as often as he can, every email making her heart flutter, increasing her joy with every sentence he types.
Everything is coming together in ways she had never even dared to dream about.
An early dinner with Ron, Mav, and Penny was the cherry on top of a great week. The four of them laughing and telling stories the entire time, taking advantage of the warm spring weather at the patio table Pete had reserved for Slider’s birthday. As stories and photos were traded across the table, Mary felt like her heart could burst learning about baby Bradley. The only quiet moment of the evening was when their waiter brought an unordered round of drinks to the table, prompting the men to venture inside and thank the old Navy buddy that had spotted them through the window.
“Thank you, Matt; it was getting just a tiny bit too windy for us.”
“No problem, ma’am.” The young man smiles over his shoulder as he finishes turning the outdoor heater on. “Can I get you ladies anything else?”
“I think we’re good for now, thank you,” Penny answers, glancing at Mary, softening at the sight of the younger woman lost in thought as she stares out at the ocean with a content smile.
She watches as brown eyes drift from the water to the table, gentle fingers tracing over a copy of a photo that’s older than the girl studying it. Penny stays quiet, letting the sound of waves crashing on the sand accompany the slight furrow that creases Mary’s brow as she brings the photo closer to her face.
“He looks just like his dad, doesn’t he?”
“He does; he acts a lot like him, too, more than he realizes.”
“You knew him?” It’s not a surprised reaction, just curious.
Penny hums, “We weren’t close, but I knew him enough to see how much Bradley has turned out like him. He’s a good blend of both his parents.”
“Did you know Carole very well?”
“More than Nick, by default, but for the most part, we were at different stages in life. She was older than me by a few years. I was in college and she was a widow raising a toddler. But, as you know, the aviator community is pretty small, so we were friendly. I would even babysit Bradley sometimes when the guys were deployed.”
“He was a cute baby,” Mary says softly, eyes back on the last photo taken of the whole Bradshaw family.
“He was… turned out to be a handsome man, didn’t he?” Penny asks, taking advantage of the moment.
She smirks as the younger woman looks up at her through her lashes, a shy smile stretching her pink cheeks. “He did.”
“Can I ask you something while they’re still inside?”
“We’re not together. But we are going on a date the week after he gets back.” Now it’s Mary’s turn to smirk at how Penny’s eyebrows rocket up to her hairline. “That is what you were going to ask me, right?”
“It’s close enough. Are you excited?”
“I am. I really like him.”
It’s the first time she admitted it out loud to anyone other than her best friend. She revels in the encouraging energy and words Penny gives back, both of them still giggling like school girls when Pete and Ron return.
“What are you two laughing about?” Slider asks as he slips Mary’s wrap over her shoulders.
“Oh, nothing.” When Penny winks, she has the overwhelming urge to cry. The knowing look accompanying those two words is more affectionate and maternal than anything her mother has done in years.
Their hug goodbye lasts a few seconds longer than expected, and the gentle hands that smooth some stray hairs back make her throat tighten. Slider is quiet on the ride home; familiar with the many moods of Mary, he lets her work through her thoughts with the radio on low.
“Y’okay, kid?” He doesn’t speak until he pulls into her neighborhood, giving himself a five-block buffer to determine if a pit stop to the closest ice cream shop is required.
“Yeah. Just-” Mary pauses, trying to figure out how to best explain. “Just still getting used to it.”
“To what?”
“To how easy it is to just be me out here. Surrounded by people who have just folded me into their lives with zero hesitation, like I’ve always been here.”
“Mary, were you happy in Florida?”
“I was content. Getting to know you helped with that a lot, but let’s face it; if I was happy, I wouldn’t have been so excited to leave.”
“And you’re happy now?”
“I am. I can’t remember the last time I was this happy.”
It's a cheesy line, but true. She knew that when she said it, accepting the light teasing that followed with a smile. One that hadn’t left her face as she said goodbye to her mentor, one that grows as the song starts again. She can’t help how big her grin gets. This song always reminds her of Bradley.
“I'm in love, I'm alive. I belong to the stars and sky.”
Letting the song stay on repeat, Mary stops in the kitchen for some water on her way to the bedroom. It’s still early - not even eight yet - but a full night’s sleep is calling her name, eyelids feeling heavy.
She slips her clothes off, folding the jeans for tomorrow and tossing her shirt in the laundry. A small groan of relief accompanies the unclasping of her bra before she slings it into the hamper. Turning the bedroom speakers down slightly as she enters the bathroom, a grimace instantly creases her face when she catches sight of herself in the mirror.
“Jesus…” Her disbelief echoes in the room as gentle fingers rub over the harsh red lines where her clothes dug into her skin. It’s evident where the waistband of her jeans sat all day. And the tender spots under her arms lets her know it’s time to look for better-fitting bras, again. Mary tugs the leg of her panties up, relieved to see at least one piece of clothing hasn’t left its mark.
She’s massaging the sore spots on her chest, letting her warm hands diminish the pain, when her phone rings. Her eyebrows furrow deeper at the unknown number flashing across the screen.
Usually, at this time of night, she’d ignore an unknown number and let the other person leave a voicemail, but something in her gut tells her to pick up before it’s too late.
“Hello?” There’s a muffled response, and she scrambles to disconnect her phone from the speakers. “Hello? Can you hear me?”
“Hello, ma’am. Can I speak to Mariella Vertucci?”
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“This is Lieutenant Corso in the communications bay on the USS Roosevelt. Can you confirm your identity with your full name, birthday, and the eight-digit code given to you by Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw?”
Mary’s heart stops for a second. This is it. Bradley is calling. She’s going to get to talk to him after forty-eight days. Hear his voice. See his face.
“Ma’am?”
“Sorry. Mariella Theresa Vertucci, born March 14, 1987. The code is 0125-2020.”
“Thank you, ma’am. One minute, please.” The soft clacking of a keyboard filters through the phone, the Lieutenant's tongue clicking as he types. “You’ve been verified. Does the phone you’re using have video chat capabilities.”
“It does, Lieutenant.”
“Excellent. Stay on the line, and in a few minutes, a video chat will come through with Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw. You have been allotted 30 minutes today. I am required to remind you that communication is not secure. This means, for security purposes, you cannot ask what time of day it is, what location, or how any missions have gone. Please confirm that you understand.”
“I understand.”
“Thank you. I am also required to let you know that this video chat is conducted in a private area and will not be monitored. However, the audio will be recorded, so any lewd acts are discouraged but not forbidden.”
Mary can’t help the snort that escapes. “But not forbidden?”
“Uh- the uh-” She smothers a chuckle at how the kid trips over his words. “The Navy understands that loved ones are apart for long periods of time and can’t forbid any uh- urges that couples may wish to act upon during their chats. But we are legally required to inform everyone of the recording.”
“Ah, I see. Thank you, Lieutenant.”
“No problem, ma’am. Please stay on the line, and your loved one will be joining shortly.” She giggles at how quickly the hold music starts, humming along to Anchors Aweigh as she clips her hair up, ready to take her makeup off. She’s about to wet a washcloth when the music cuts, and the video call comes through.
Taking a second to look herself over, Mary admires the tendrils that have escaped, perfectly framing her cheeks that are still flushed from the wine she had with dinner. The slightest bit still tipsy and a little frazzled about Bradley, she realizes just in time that she’s still only in her underwear, hitting the accept button and dropping the phone on the counter.
“One second! Just- oh, come on! Fuck!” She curses under her breath as she struggles to slip into her bathrobe. “Hang on, Bradley!”
Finally getting both arms in, she ties the robe, eyebrows raising in surprise at how it cinches her waist, before eagerly grabbing her phone.
“Hi, Mary.”
“Hi, Bradley.”
She greedily drinks him in. It’s been 48 days since she’s seen his handsome face or heard his warm voice - the longest since they met - and she’s missed him. Her heart clenches at how tired he looks, the bags under his eyes more pronounced than ever.
“Hi, honey.” The sweet name hits something deep inside, and she can’t help the tears that immediately form or the way her bottom lip wobbles. “Oh, shit, Mary. Please don’t cry, honey.”
The emotional reaction surprises even her; she was expecting to be a bit overwhelmed, but nothing like this. It makes her feel a little ridiculous, crying about a man she’s barely even kissed. But you love him, her brain chimes in, sending more heat to her face.
“This is your uncle’s fault!” She laughs, swiping tears away and propping her phone against the mirror.
“Mav?”
She can’t help but giggle at his disbelieving tone as she reaches for a tissue. “No, Slider. He’s in town this week, and he may or may not - but definitely did - get me tipsy at dinner, like he always does!”
She trills on about dinner, telling him about the childhood stories that were shared and the baby photos that now live on her phone, not noticing the look on his face until he interrupts.
“You getting in the shower, Mary?”
The husky tone immediately grabs all of her attention, a shiver running down her spine at the smoldering look on Bradley’s face. She follows his eyes down, surprised to see how much her robe has come undone. The valley between her breasts is completely visible, and the fabric is threatening to expose her belly button - and more - if it’s not fixed.
“Oops…” She mumbles to herself, tightening the robe so much it pushes her cleavage together.
Normally, this is where her insecurities would ruin the moment - flooding her brain with terrible things. Make her spend the rest of the call analyzing how she looks in the tiny corner box, agonizing how prominent her double chin is from this angle. But the soft fuck that crackles through the phone squashes the anxieties before they can take root, shifting her attention to admire the man looking back at her.
And god, he is a man.
Bradley Bradshaw has always been gorgeous: tall, strong, and deliciously tan. But mid-deployment Bradley Bradshaw is a vicious attack to the senses. And the hormones.
His broad shoulders have gotten broader, filling the little privacy cubicle in the communications room so much that he’s brushing both sides of the walls. His curls are more golden than usual, clear evidence of time spent flying in the Pacific tropics. His tan is deeper, too, glowing even in the harsh florescent lighting, the bridge of his nose slightly sunburnt. His neatly trimmed mustache moves with his lush pink lips, warmth building in her core as her thoughts drift to the memory of how they felt pressed against hers.
“Mary?” She hums, eyes focusing back into the present and away from her favorite post-deployment reunion fantasy. “Whatcha thinking about?”
“You.”
It's clear he wasn’t expecting that answer from the way he drags a hand over his mouth to muffle a cruse, his eyes scrunching shut.
She wasn’t expecting it either; the effects of the wine have mostly worn off, leaving her with flushed cheeks and apparently a slightly looser tongue. She can’t bring herself to be embarrassed about the overly honest answer. Communicating exclusively via email for the last month and a half has allowed Mary to gain confidence in Bradley’s feelings. It’s hard to wonder about his intentions when every email ends with him telling her how many days are left until he’s home.
“Your lips…” She continues, emboldened as the last remnants of wine soften the sharp edges of her insecurities and the pink working its way up his neck. She loves how easily Bradley blushes for her. Their few kisses have always ended with his cheeks a lovely, rosy shade. “How soft your hair is. Your mustache. How strong you are. How much I miss you…”
The words make them both pause. It’s not an uncommon phrase, every email containing some variation of the sentiment, but hearing the words out loud makes it real. Cementing the longing in their chests.
“I miss you, too.” The words are quiet, echoing against the tiled walls. She chuckles, throat thick with emotion, and Bradley can’t look away from her soft smile. His heart pounding at the emotion on her face, something he can’t quite place. He can’t stop staring as she picks the phone up and flicks the light off, “Where are we going?”
“Couch.”
He smiles as the familiar walls of her living room appear, grin going slack when she props him up on the side table, and the slit of her robe reveals a thigh that he’s dreamt about as she shuffles pillows. Bradley manages to pull his mind out of his post-deployment fantasy as she plops on her couch - that damn pink couch - and smiles at him over the arm, her eyes almost closing she grins so hard.
“I’m sorry I missed our call.”
“It’s okay, Bradley. I knew it was a possibility, and Mav let me know what was going on. I understand.”
“I want to hear about your birthday.”
“I told you about my birthday! We’ve discussed it extensively.”
“I still want to hear about it. I want to hear your voice.” He revels as she softly whines and smooshes her face into a pillow, thrilled to cause that reaction. “C’mon, please, Mary?”
“You’re not fighting fair.” The muffled complaint comes back, making him laugh, but she does as asked.
Bradley listens, humming along as she recounts her birthday for him and insisting for the hundredth time that it was his pleasure to give her presents. He lets her lead the conversation as it shifts to what’s happening in San Diego, content to watch her as she shares stories of what he’s missing at home. Happy to just admire her and occasionally ask questions.
It’s so easy to get lost looking at her. Dark hair swishing around her shoulders, just slightly shorter than it was in February. Her brown eyes look darker than usual, the low light in the room making them almost black instead of the warm brown he’s used to staring into. And despite resecuring the robe, it’s coming loose again, enough that the top curve of her breasts are visible; freckles dotted all over, disappearing beneath the baby blue fabric. Bradley thinks about what it would be like to connect the dots on her soft skin, tracing invisible lines with his fingers or lips. He imagines there’s more hiding behind the waffle material. He wonders if she’d let him find out.
The fantasy of how wonderful it would be to memorize every mark on her body is interrupted as red nail polish grabs his attention. He loves her hands, smaller than his but so strong when she’s working on a jet. Steady as she calls out instructions to her team, grease smeared up to her elbows and her nail color of the week shining through the black sludge. Mary insists that she doesn’t talk with her hands, that she managed to avoid that stereotypical Italian-American trait, but Bradley smirks as her hands swirl through the air. He’s about to interrupt the story she’s giggling through - something about the latest swear word that Danielle accidentally taught Annie - when something sparkly on her finger distracts him.
A ring.
A diamond ring.
A simple silver band lined with tiny diamonds.
On her ring finger.
On her left ring finger.
His eyebrows furrow as he tries to study the never-before-seen piece of jewelry. Mary must notice his confusion because she cuts her story off and flashes her hand at the camera. “I bought this for myself when I got promoted for the first time. I went from EI to EII, which is entry-level engineer to associate engineer. It was $50 from this little shop that was on the same block as my first solo apartment in St. Louis.”
Relief sweeps through his body, thrilled that Mary hadn’t gotten engaged with him.
“That’s awesome. Have you done that every time you’ve moved up?”
“Kinda? I always buy myself some sort of gift - last time, I splurged and got that big blender we used at the Christmas party. But I’ve only done jewelry a few times. I think I’m going to get a necklace next time, something to match this.” She explains, wiggling her fingers so the gems shimmer in the camera.
“It’s very pretty.” Bradley compliments, feeling bold enough to go further. “You look good with a ring on that finger.”
“Jesus, Brad-”
She’s cut off by the two-minute alert popping up. They had been so distracted they weren’t paying attention to the countdown timer.
“Already?” Mary pouts, forehead crinkling as she frowns. “But I didn’t get to ask you about carrier food.
“It’s bad, honey. Yours is so much better.”
“Or how you’re sleeping.”
“Reuben’s snoring has somehow gotten even louder since last time we shared a bunkroom; Bob, Mickey, and I owe you for the extra earplugs you sent.”
“You’re sunburnt.”
“I’m wearing the sunscreen you gave me; the sun is just strong.”
“I knew I should have sent the SPF 75!” Bradley smiles as Mary throws her head back in faux despair. “Oh well, now I know for next time, I guess.”
“Next time?”
“Yeah. You didn’t think I’d only send you a care package one time, did you? I gotta make sure you have everything you need. I know I missed some stuff this time, but I’ll get better in the future! I promise.”
I love you.
He just barely holds the words in.
“God, I fucking miss you.” He stares at the screen, watching the prettiest brown eyes in the world fill with tears at his words. “Oh, honey, please don’t cry. I’ll be home so soon.”
“But twenty-four days is such a long time, and I miss you so much.”
“I know, but we’ve already done 48 days. Twenty-four will be a breeze to get through.” The timer starts blinking, the last 60 seconds counting down. “I gotta get going, Mary. But you keep sending me flirty emails so I have something to read and think about.”
He chuckles at the little surprised noise she makes. “You noticed that?”
“Did I notice that? Mariella, in the kindest way, you are not subtle.”
“Well- I-” She splutters. “Neither are you!”
“I’m not trying to be, baby doll,” Bradley revels in her reaction to the pet name - mouth dropping open as she blinks at him, cheeks pinker than he’s ever seen - one he didn’t even mean to use.
The flustered hand she waves at the camera while yelling at him makes him laugh. “Bradley!”
“I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Be safe. Only 24 days.”
“Only 24 days.”
“I miss you, handsome.”
Bradley's face feels hot, choked up at the look in her eyes, the softness of her words. “I miss you, too, baby doll.”
They don’t say goodbye, choosing to admire each other as the final seconds tick away.
5…
I can’t wait to see you in person.
4…
God, you’re so gorgeous.
3…
I don’t want to hang up.
2…
I miss you.
1…
I love you.
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#top gun maverick fic#top gun maverick au#top gun maverick imagine#top gun fic#top gun au#top gun imagine#bradley rooster bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley rooster bradshaw x oc#bradley bradshaw x oc#rooster imagine#DSS universe#MM fic#mar[r]y me fic#elle writes
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