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ereardon · 9 months

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That Summer || Epilogue [Bradley Bradshaw x Reader]

A Bradley Bradshaw AU

Synopsis: One night during the summer you turned eighteen, you woke up to a surprise. Your father, a retired Navy Admiral, had posted bail for the son of a former colleague who was now orphaned and had gotten himself mixed up with the law. Instead of letting him get lost in the judicial system, your father signed himself up as Bradley Bradshaw’s guardian to prevent him from going to juvie. You were explicitly told to stay away from the boy in the attic room. But as the summer went on, you and Bradley struck up an unlikely friendship that turned into a forbidden relationship. Bradley tipped your world upside down, challenging everything you had once thought you knew. How could the two of you think it would end any differently than it did when your father called the cops the night he found the two of you in bed together?

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, angst, illusion to smut, happy endings, time jumps, premature baby, hospital scene

Chapter summary: Twelve years after the night they're torn apart, Bradley and Birdy reunite in San Diego

Wordcount: 4.5K

Series masterlist here; Part Ten here

“Do you know him?”

You looked at Amanda and then back to where you had been staring.

You’d recognize him anywhere. Even though it had been twelve years since you had last seen him. Even though you hadn’t heard your voice falling from his perfect lips since that late August night, all those years ago, when your world was turned on its axis.

Bradley Bradshaw was a part of you. Your thumb automatically touched the gold ring around your fourth finger.

You watched as Bradley slid the sunglasses off of the bridge of his nose, squinting into the distance, trying to place you.

And for a fleeting moment it was just the two of you, standing in a hospital parking lot. And you were eighteen again, with everything spread out in front of you, a future that you were desperate not to do alone.

You dropped your gaze and shook your head. “No,” you whispered. “Not anymore.”

*the aftermath*

You went off to Stanford three weeks later.

It was the longest three weeks of your life.

By the time you got to the police station a few hours later, Bradley was gone. No one would tell you where he was or what had really happened.

You spent the first week in a daze, barely speaking. And then, one night, drunk off of a bottle of stolen Sancerre you had pilfered from your mother’s stash, you barged into your father’s study.

“Tell me what you did,” you demanded, swaying from side to side, a dull ringing in one ear.

He looked up, dejected. “Not now, Y/N.”

“Yes, now,” you countered. “Tell me or I never speak to either of you ever again.”

He sighed, folding his hands on his desk. “Fine. You want to know the truth?”

“Yes.”

The story your father wove sounded improbable. Unbelievable for the Bradley you had known.

He said that Bradley had stolen. From him and from others at the debutante ball. A pilfered wallet here and there. Pierce’s wallet. That he had found Bradley in his study a few nights before the incident, combing through his files. That when he confronted him, Bradley denied it.

Your father shook his head. “You’re better off, Y/N. We tried, your mother and I. I owed it to his parents to try. But he was an unruly kid, just like I expected. Look what he did. He corrupted you.”

You lifted your gaze. “He didn’t corrupt me, daddy. I love him.”

His face hardened. “You’re too young to know love, Y/N.��

“Were you too young when you fell in love with Carole?”

He was silent. The air in the room stilled.

Finally, your father looked up.

“You can hate me,” he said, “for the rest of your life, if you want. But it’s never going to change the fact that I did what I did because you’re my daughter and it is my duty to protect you. Your mother and I, we just want the best for you.”

“Did you ever stop and think that maybe Bradley was the best thing that ever happened to me?” you asked, standing up and crossing the room to the doors, flinging them open. “And that maybe instead of saving me, you broke my life apart?”

You stormed out of the study and up the stairs, to the third floor. Louise had cleaned out Bradley’s room. All that remained was the bed, stripped of sheets and pillows and comforters, just a mattress on a rickety metal frame. You laid down on the bare mattress and cried. There was nothing you could do to bring him back.

*Four years after*

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back? Texas A&M is only an hour away.”

You frowned. “I got into Stanford’s medical school. Why would I decline that?”

“Because Texas is your home.”

You shook your head at your mother. “No, it’s not. Not anymore.”

“Y/N.” She laid a hand on your arm and you brushed it off. The California sun was strong as it beat down on your shoulders. Graduation had taken nearly three hours and you had only just packed up the final box in your car.

“Mother,” you said coolly, “it’s done. I’m not coming back. California is my home now.”

“Is this still about that boy?”

“Do not speak to me about Bradley.” Your voice was sharp.

She sighed. “Y/N, it’s been years. You can forgive us now.”

“I will never forgive you,” you whispered and the simmering violence beneath your words scared her. You could tell by the way she inched backward.

“Leave her be, Evelyn.” Your father stepped forward, closing the trunk door. “She’s made up her mind.”

“But–”

He cut her off. “We dug our grave, Evelyn. Time to lie in it.”

You opened the car door. “I’ll see you in November for Thanksgiving.”

“Can we at least help you move into your new apartment?” your mother asked.

You shook your head. “The movers are there, and so is Ivy. Nothing more you can do.” You looked at the two of them. Bright under the blinding sun. In four years they had aged. So had you.

Leaving Texas had been the best decision you ever made. Going back after Bradley never felt like an option.

You sank into the driver’s seat and pulled out onto the road. In the rearview, your parents grew smaller and smaller, until they were only specks in the mirror.

You blinked, and they were gone.

*Six months after*

“Bradley Bradshaw,” you repeated into the phone. “He would have come in on August twenty fifth.”

“Sorry, ma’am, that’s classified information.”

“I just need to know where he was released,” you begged. “Any information you can give me would be so helpful.”

The receptionist sighed. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I can’t.”

You hung up, frustrated. Your phone was clamped so hard in your hands that you thought you might break it. Leaning back on your dorm-issued bed, you pulled up a new Safari window and pressed return, finding a phone number instantly.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” you said, voice shaky. “My name is Y/N Sullivan. Admiral Sullivan’s daughter. I’m looking for any last known address for Bradley Bradshaw. His father was a Top Gun instructor years ago, Goose?”

“Ms. Sullivan,” the voice on the other end of the line said. “One moment.” You jiggled your knee. “The last known address we have for the Bradshaws is here in San Diego.”

“Can I have it please?”

You grabbed a pen and your biology lab notebook, scribbling it down on the corner. After hanging up the phone, you sat there, looking at the address before ripping the corner piece off and tacking the triangle of scrap paper to the corkboard above your desk.

*Five years after*

Bradley smoothed his hands over his hair. He locked the door of his rental car and started up the familiar driveway.

Galveston has taken on an ethereal quality in his mind. He closed his eyes and saw you – swimming in the ocean late at night, laughing with your hair thrown back under the skylight, eating breakfast in the kitchen nook, driving with one hand on the steering wheel and the other fiddling with the radio.

Being back felt like bursting that bubble.

It felt duller. Even the house, which held so many memories, felt like it had faded with the years.

He knocked on the door, heart beating erratically.

It opened and Bradley gulped. Your father stood with one hand on the large wooden door frame. “Bradley.”

“Admiral.”

The two men looked at each other. Finally, your father stepped to the side. “Come in.”

Bradley nodded, ducking his head. Inside, the house felt like a time capsule. Everywhere he looked, Bradley saw you. And yet, you were nowhere to be found.

If he looked closely, he could see the chip in the wood trim of the doorway where his handcuffs had scraped the night he was dragged out of the house.

The last time he saw you.

The two sat down in the study, staring at each other wordlessly.

Finally, Bradley opened his mouth. “I report to Pensacola next week for training.”

Your father’s mouth drifted open. “So you finished at the Academy.” It was a statement, not a question.

Bradley nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Will you become a WSO, like your father?”

He shook his head. “Aviator, sir.”

Your father took him in for a moment. Then, “I always knew you’d come back.”

“Did you?” Bradley asked. “I didn’t.”

“What we did, son, we did for her own good.”

Even at the slightest mention of you, Bradley’s breath caught in his throat. He wanted to attack your father with questions. How were you? Where were you? Did you remember him? Were you seeing someone? But he settled with, “I understand.”

“You do?”

He nodded. “Now, yes. Back then I didn’t.” Bradley folded his hands in his lap. “I loved her, you know. It wasn’t some kind of game.”

“I know it wasn’t.” Your father stood up, pouring himself a drink and handing Bradley a second glass without him ever asking. “She never forgave us for that night. And I don’t know if I can blame her. I did what I thought was right. But now, I don’t know.”

“Why did you do it?” Bradley asked. “Was it just to keep me away from her?”

Your father shook his head. “You were a thief, Bradley. Why would I want that for my daughter?”

“I thought it was the only way to provide for her,” Bradley said. “I’m ashamed of what I did, sir. I thought, I don’t know. That maybe I could go with her to California. But to do that, I needed money. I wanted to provide a life for her. I just didn’t know how.”

“You were a child, Bradley,” he said. “A child can’t provide for a woman. A wife.”

“I know.” Bradley hung his head. “Is she?”

“She’s happy,” your father said. That was all he said. It was enough and they both knew it.

Bradley stood up, setting down the glass. “I just came here to say thank you.”

“For what?” Your father let the shock ring through his voice.

“For protecting her,” he said. “It forced me to grow up. To be realistic. I appreciate you taking me in. But having you kick me out did more for me than shelter ever would have.”

Your father nodded. Bradley stepped out into the foyer and opened the door. “Son.”

He stopped, looking over at your father in the doorway to the office.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For knowing when to walk away.”

*Twelve years after*

“Dr. Sullivan, triage on room five says the baby isn’t breathing.”

“Fuck.” Your sneakers squeaked along the linoleum floors as you sprinted down the hallway. You rounded the corner, tugging on a gown, skidding through the door. “I’m here, walk me through.”

A nurse gave you the verbal run down as you approached the baby on the warming table.

“She needs a trache. Call anesthesia, tell them we have a thirty-three week preemie and page an attending.”

“Dr. Kettering is with a patient in OR two, uterine hemorrhage after a c-section.”

“Shit,” you whispered under your breath. “OK, gloves.”

You carefully sliced a small opening in the baby’s neck, inserting a tiny breathing tube, waiting with baited breath until her chest inflated.

You sighed, hair sticking to the underside of your scrub cap. “Page Dr. Kettering and tell her to meet us in OR three. Tell her we’re bringing in baby Katherine.”

“Yes, doctor.”

You watched the nurses wheel away the baby in the warmer before peeling off your gloves, stepping over to the woman in the bed near the window. “Mrs. Yates? Are you doing OK?”

The tiny brunette shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “She’s too small. It’s too early.”

You patted her hand softly. “It’s going to be OK. We talked about this. We’re ready. Right?”

She nodded. Behind her, her husband had the same look of apprehension. You recognized it instantly. It was the same with most patients.

“I’m going to go see your daughter. Get some rest, I’ll be back soon.”

They nodded weakly. Five hours later, you returned in a sweat-drenched pair of blue scrubs. Mr. and Mrs. Yates looked up the moment you walked in.

“Katherine did perfect,” you said and they collapsed into each other with joy. “Our team is closing right now and then you can go visit her in the NICU. One of the nurses will take you down there.”

“Thank you.” The husband gathered you into his arms and you hugged him back. When he pulled back, there were tears in his eyes. “Seriously, thank you.”

You grinned. “It was my pleasure.”

***

The sun was blinding. Sinking down against the sky toward the water. You stepped out of the hospital doors and took in a deep breath.

“Birdy.”

Every atom in your body froze. Then, you turned, eyes wide.

Bradley stood ten feet away, wearing a long-sleeve shirt and jeans. He smiled and you felt it in your toes, your stomach, your inner ear.

“Bradley,” you breathed. So it had been him the other day. Not a mirage like you thought.

He smiled and it lit up his entire face. “Birdy.”

A part of you wanted to jump into his arms. Toss your hands around his neck, breathe him in deeply. Make up for lost time. But you held back. What if he was married? Or engaged?

Instead, you smiled back.

“Hey there.”

He pushed his right hand into his pocket. You fiddled with your badge. “Are you, uh, do you work here?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

“That’s great.” Bradley couldn’t take his eyes off of you. “Sorry, I just—”

You shook your head. “I know, it’s been a while.”

“Are you going somewhere?” he asked. “Can we get dinner? Drinks? Whatever you want.”

You frowned and Bradley’s heart broke.

“Or if you can’t, I understand.”

“No, that’s not it,” you said and he brightened. “I just, are you here with someone?”

“My friends had a baby,” he said, “but she’s out of surgery and doing OK, I guess.”

“What’s her name?”

“Katherine.”

You smiled. “I did her surgery this afternoon. She did great.”

“You did her surgery?”

A nod. “Well, there were a few of us in there, but yeah.”

“I always knew you’d be amazing,” he said softly. And suddenly you were eighteen again. Lying on your bed holding hands with Bradley, dreaming of the rest of your life. “Listen, I should go tell Mel and Jim that I’m heading out. I’ll meet you for dinner. Charlie’s, by the water. Do you know it?”

You smiled. It was less than a five minute drive from your house. “Yeah, I know it.”

“OK. See you there in like thirty?”

You nodded. As you turned to leave, Bradley reached out, grabbing your wrist lightly. The electricity of his touch set you on fire.

He smiled. “God, I missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, B,” you whispered.

“I don’t want to let you go,” he admitted and you chuckled. “Promise me I’m not going to show up to an empty table?”

“I promise.”

***

By the time you arrived, wearing a light linen dress and a pair of sandals, Bradley was already there. He stood up when you came into view and waited until you sat down to take a seat.

“You look great,” he said softly.

“Thank you.” You opened the menu, trying to stop your heart from racing. Peering over the top of the menu, you caught Bradley staring. “You look good, too.”

He blushed. “I’m sorry, I’m probably being so awkward.”

“I am, too.”

Bradley held out his hand across the table, palm up. You set the menu down, sliding your hand into his. It was the easiest thing in the world. He looked down, fingers tracing your ring, before looking up with wide eyes. “Is that?”

You nodded. “I never took it off.”

Bradley could barely breathe, let alone speak. “Just to be clear, you’re not dating someone, are you?”

You laughed. “With all my spare time? No, I’m not. There’s barely enough time outside of the hospital to do laundry, let alone meet someone.” You paused. “Are you?”

He shook his head. “Same here, never really had the time.” Bradley took a sip of water before lifting his gaze. “Besides, why bother when I know it’ll never live up to what I had and lost?”

“Bradley,” you breathed.

His hand squeezed yours. “It’s you, Birdy. It’s always been you.”

“Tell me what happened,” you whispered. “That night. All of it. I spoke to my father, but I want to hear your side.”

Bradley squeezed your hand before letting it fall back onto the table. “Of course. You deserve to know the truth.”

Your gaze was locked on Bradley as he recounted it all. How he had pilfered one wallet at the debutante ball out of desperation so he could afford to go to California with you when you left for Stanford. That he had gone into your father’s study, but only to look for documents about his parents. How he had floated for a minute before finding his footing, using his father’s connections to reconnect with his father’s best friend, a man named Maverick, who had taken him under his care and helped Bradley get into the Naval Academy. How he had gone back, five years later, to your parent’s house in Galveston, to apologize. That he had wanted to ask for your contact information, but when your father said you were happy he decided to let you be. He had lost you once. It was more important to him that you were happy, than that you were his.

“I thought about trying to find you,” he said softly. The plates in front of the two of you were empty. Most of the other dining patrons had cleared out. Once again, it was just you and Bradley, sitting hand-in-hand, two of you against the world. “A hundred times. A thousand, even. But I was always worried that if I did, maybe you wouldn’t want me anymore. Or worse, that I would ruin your life all over again.”

“You didn’t ruin anything. Not then, and not now.”

Your heart was fluttering.

And then the waiter came around. “Check?”

You smiled, pulling out your wallet. Bradley slipped his card onto the leather bill holder with a frown. “I’m paying, Birdy.”

“Things have changed,” you whispered.

“Some,” he said softly, signing the check and standing, holding out one hand. “And some things are the same.”

You took his hand. “Can we talk more?”

“Yes, please.”

“Follow my car, I live just a few miles from here.”

Bradley squeezed your hand before letting go. You slid into the driver’s seat, setting off down the road. A few minutes later, you hit the blinker, turning into the shallow driveway of the blue bungalow. Bradley’s Bronco appeared in the rearview, slowly before parking behind your sedan. Bradley stepped out of the truck, his eyes locked on the house.

You unlocked the front door, ushering him in and sliding off your shoes. “Wine?”

“Sure.”

“Make yourself comfortable.”

You stepped toward the back of the house to the galley kitchen, pulling out a bottle of white wine and two glasses before making your way to the living room. Bradley stood in the center of the room with one hand pressed against his jaw. He turned around. “Honey, I have to tell you something.”

You set the glasses and wine bottle down. “What is it?”

“I, um, I used to live here,” he said quietly. “When my parents were alive.”

“Bradley?”

“Yeah?”

“I know.”

He squinted. “You know?”

You nodded, sitting down on the couch and patting the space next to you. Bradley sat down. “I called Top Gun that summer, trying to find any way I could to reach you. They gave me your last known address and this was it. I bought it after my first year at Stanford and used it as a rental property until I finished medical school and got my residency at UCSD.”

“I–” Bradley shook his head. “I don’t know what to say.”

Nerves flooded your body. “I hope it’s not weird. I just, I wanted to feel closer to you. I thought maybe one day you’d come back and you’d find me.”

He placed one hand on your bare knee. “I lived in your house. Only makes sense that you would live in mine.”

“I never thought about it that way.”

The two of you sat in silence for a minute. Bradley’s hand was warm on your bare skin. “I’m sorry,” he whispered after a moment.

“What are you sorry for?”

“I made you promises I was never going to be able to keep,” Bradley said. “I just loved you so much, I wanted to make you happy. Even if that meant telling you what I thought I should say instead of what I could say.”

“Bradley,” you whispered, reaching out softly, placing one hand on his cheek. He had a mustache now, and the stubble scraped against the skin of your palm but it felt right. There were small crows feet in the corner of his eyes from too much time in the sun. Your fingers slid back toward his hair. “You made me happy and that’s what mattered. We were both naive. It wasn’t either of our faults. We were just kids back then.”

“You always seemed ahead of things,” he murmured. “When you set your mind to something, I knew it would happen. That’s why I really thought we might be able to do it. Run away together. Instead, I was just running. I think I was always running.”

“When did that stop?” you asked.

“Four hours ago,” he said and your breath caught in your throat, “when I saw you again.”

“Oh.”

Bradley’s fingers trailed up your extended arm, from where your fingers were threaded in his hair, down past your elbow, toward your shoulder, tugging you in closer until his face was only a few inches away. “I know it’s been twelve years, Y/N. I know that in reality we’re strangers. But I think a part of me stopped growing without you. It’s like I was on pause and I’ve only now gotten the remote back and I can press play again.”

“I know what you mean,” you whispered. “Even though it was crazy, somewhere in the back of my mind, I think I’ve always been waiting for you.”

Bradley had both hands pressed to either side of your face. He smelled familiar, but with something else, something new. You thought about the men you had been with since him. How empty it would feel after, or even during. How you’d lay there in the darkness and think about what it had been like with Bradley.

“I thought maybe everyone has something like we did when they were young,” you murmured. “That I needed to stop comparing everyone to you. Because maybe your first love is just different. I didn’t know if what we had was real, or if it was just powerful because it was the first time.”

His thumb stroked your cheek delicately. “It was real, Birdy. At least for me it was.”

“It was real for me, too.”

“This is going to sound crazy,” he said, lips pulled back in a smile. You remembered the first time you saw him smile. The first time the two of you swam in the ocean together.

“I like crazy.”

He grinned. “I still love you, honey. I never stopped loving you.”

You held him tightly. “I know,” you whispered. “I never stopped either.”

And then his lips were on yours as you fell back against the couch cushions, Bradley’s more muscular and defined body slotted between your legs as he pressed you back against the couch, his kiss powerful and familiar and perfect.

You melted into him. His scent, his touch. A tear slid out from your eye as Bradley’s lips moved slowly, choreographed, against yours, his hands smoothing over your body slowly, as if he was reminding himself about the lines of your figure, tracing a path to a map he had read once but never forgotten.

Twelve years disappeared in a fleeting moment as you and Bradley moved together, your fingers tight against his biceps, his mouth trailing wet, open kisses to the bare expanse of your neck as the two of you clung to each other tightly.

You would know Bradley Bradshaw anywhere. You would know Bradley Bradshaw with your eyes closed. You would know Bradley Bradshaw until the moment you died.

He was bonded to you. He was infused in every single atom in your body. He ran through your veins alongside your blood. He haunted your dreams. He patrolled your memories. His touches were tattooed on your skin like a glow-in-the-dark map that only you could see.

He was your home.

THE END

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read this!! I originally was going to do it as a simple one shot but it truly took on a life of its own.

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@angelbabyange @taytaylala12 @mizzzpink @wkndwlff @mygyn @sadpetalsstuff @xoxabs88xox @averyhotchner @oneelleandaneye

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159 notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 1 year

Note

camboy Bradley figuring out that his shy girl is dying for him to ask her to stream with him 🥵

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

this post is 18+, minors dni.

"Just a quick one today," Bradley promises, leaning over the back of the chair that you're curled up in and pressing a firm kiss to your cheek. His mustache grates against your skin but his lips are softer, leaving behind a sticky mark that cools when he backs away.

His camera is under his arm, cord trailing after it. You swallow what little saliva is in your mouth as you think about what it's going to record, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't thinking about watching it from downstairs.

Bradley notices your lack of response, as well as the way you stiffen at his words. You've never judged or belittled him for his hobby, in fact, you always look pleasantly surprised when he spoils you with the income from it. In short, there's something wrong.

"Everything okay?" He stays hunched over the chair from behind, his arm crossed over your chest. He smooths it down your stomach and leaves it resting there with another fond kiss to your cheek.

"Yeah!" You answer a little too eagerly, turning your face so that you can kiss him properly. It's overzealous in appearance, but as he tries to deepen it ever-so-slightly, you balk.

"Are you sure?" He breaks away to nudge his nose with yours, "You seem a little tense."

You're panicking. You've watched Bradley's livestreams before, under the cover of a blanket on the chair. From the minute he'd grabbed the camera images of past livestreams had been flashing through your head, enough to get you hot and bothered beneath the flannel. Now he's all over you, his lips dotting kisses against your cheekbone, and the kiss had only made it worse.

"Really, I'm okay." You laugh breathily, "This book is just getting really good."

He glances down at what you're reading: a textbook.

"Right," He deadpans, crouching beside the chair and staring imploringly up at you. His big brown eyes are dripping with concern, damn him, and his lips settle in a frown.

"You don't have to tell me what's wrong," He bargains, reaching for your hand that's resting on the arm of the chair, "But please don't lie to me. I know something's wrong, I know you, and you're upset."

"I'm not upset," You shake your head earnestly, "Really, Bradley, it's not- upset isn't right."

"What is it, then?" He squeezes your hand, gently but firm, "You can tell me, honey."

"i..." You stammer, eyes flitting around the living room for a possible explanation, "I- I can't."

"Yes you can," He promises, raising your hand to his lips to press an encouraging kiss to the back of it, "You don't have to, but you can."

"I want to," You gush, cheeks on fire, "I just- I can't, it's embarrassing!"

"Embarrassing," He snorts, standing once more to hover over you. His hand slips from your own and cups your cheek, tilting your face up towards him with a cheeky grin, "Remember yesterday when I tripped over my own shoe? Can't be more embarrassing than that. Plus," His voice takes a more sincere tone, brows dipping in worry, "You know I'd never make fun of you, right?"

"I know." You nod, contemplating your options, "I know, I just- I don't know."

His frown only deepens. He readjusts the camera in his hand, holding it up tentatively, "It's, uh, it's not about my stream, is it? Because if it makes you uncomfortable or anything like that, I can-"

"No!" You, once again, give yourself away by answering too quickly, shaking your head so hard that the blanket shifts where it's thrown over your shoulders.

You can practically see his heart sink.

"Honey," He sets the camera on the side table, bracing his hands on the arms of the chair and leaning down, face inches away from yours as his shoulders bunch up by his ears, "I'm sorry. Really, if I had known you weren't cool with it..."

"I am cool with it," You insist, tears of frustration welling in your eyes. You suppose cool doesn't exactly fit hot and bothered, but the last thing you want is him thinking you're judging him, "Really, Bradley, I'm cool with it. I think it's good, I- I mean, you seem to really like it. And so do I. Like- Like, I like that you like it."

You're only making things worse. Bradley's never heard you this flustered before, and his guilty expression doesn't change as you blabber on. You have a feeling he's beating himself up inside, and, finally succumbing to the solution, you lean forward to nudge his nose with yours.

Your mouth moves at the speed of light, words strung together like erratic christmas lights, "I like them a lot and I watch when you film them and I-dunno-but-I-really-thought-about-maybe-doing-one-with-you-this-time-but-it's-okay-if-you-don't-want-to-because-"

The angle is awkward, but he manages to press his lips to yours. It's sloppy, not exactly the perfect kiss, but it does its job and shuts you up. Your eyes fly open wide and lock with his, crinkled at the corners with amusement.

"Sorry," He breathes, breaking away, "I had to cut you off."

"I'm sorry," You groan, leaning away to knock your head against the back of the chair, "I wasn't going to tell you! You just looked so worried and I didn't want you to think that I was upset with you or anything, so I just blurted it out."

"It's okay," Bradley chases your face, bumping his nose with yours, "I think it's cute you wanna join."

His words aim to tease, and they do. You flush even hotter, eyes squeezing shut as he laughs long and loud.

"Bradley," You grumble, "Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not making fun of you!" He insists, lips puckering against your nose, "I promise, honey, I think you'd do great on camera."

"Really?" You glance up at him, peeking your eyes open only a fraction, "You mean it?"

"I swear by it," He nods once, huffily, "Everyone'll looove you. Hell, I say your name enough when I cum they probably worship you too."

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averagewriter-inthedark · 1 year

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Her Lover 💗 | Bradley Bradshaw Social Media AU

Goes with my full length imagine “Lover”

TGM masterlist

All pictures from Pinterest, collages made with Canva

#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw headcanon #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley Bradshaw #rooster imagine #rooster x y/n #lt bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster fanfiction #tgm headcanon #TGM social media au #tgm fanfiction #tgm au #rooster au #singer!reader

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callsignangel · 2 years

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a bradley “rooster” bradshaw pacific rim!au for sage, james, shawn & gabby 🖤

#pacific rim #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster #top gun maverick #top gun moodboard #pacific rim au #alternate universe #top gun au #rooster moodboard #bradley bradshaw moodboard #bradley bradshaw au #rooster au #rooster top gun #imani’s works #i ❤️ pacific rim #miles teller #miles teller moodboard

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notroosterbradshaw · 11 months

Note

For made up fic title: "A Whistle in the Dark"

When a body is found washed up on the beach, green Detective Bradley Bradshaw must put his personal feelings to the side to find the killer of his first love.

LOL that is terrible. If you could hear the monologue in my head as I wrote that, Vee haha Imagine Voiceover Guy Thanks for the ask, bb doll x

send me a made-up fic title and i’ll tell you what i would write to go with it

#asks answered #I didn't think I'd get one but here we are #rooster au

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zoe-oneesama · 7 months

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Time for the curtain call!

Episode 48 Part 16 First < Previous > Next Season 1, Season 2, Season 3, Season 4, Season 5 Ep 41, Ep 42, Ep 43, Ep 44 Ep 45, Ep 46, Ep 47

Complete Fenice Transformation Sequence!

Complete Comousiner Transformation Sequence!

Ko-fi | Patreon

#I had to make some reason for the Rooster to have a Quill lol #scarlet lady #scarlet lady au #scarlet lady comic #frightningale #clara #clara nightingale #comousiner #fenice #episode 48 part 16

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bloatedandalone04 · 8 months

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If It Makes You Happy - Part 1

➪the one where you give bradley your heart and he breaks it.

Warnings: smut, angst, fluff, unprotected sex, age gap, 18+, swearing, alcohol consumption, hair pulling, small pain kink ig, jealousy

Word Count: 5.3k | Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“God, you feel so good,” Bradley’s deep voice sent chills down your spine. Your hands trailed up his back and gripped his shoulders as his hips hit yours over and over again. “Fuck, baby.”

His words, mixed with his raspy voice, went right to your core, where you greedily sucked him in deeper.

Bradley groaned loudly, dipping his head down to suck on your collar bone. He wasn’t usually one for hickeys at his age, but he found himself loving to both give them and receive them ever since you and he first started this whole situation.

“Just like that,” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut tightly when you felt his lips pepper kisses all over your neck.

“Like this?” He mutters as he fucked into you, making you see stars behind your closed eyes.

“Yes,”

One of his hands reaches down to wrap your leg around his waist, making him reach even deeper in you. “You like that, baby?”

“Yes,” you say again, sliding one hand up to tug on his hair. “Please.”

Bradley grunted at your relentless tugging, the feeling of your fingers threading through his hair adding to the overall pressure currently building within him. “Fuck, you’re so hot,”

If he thought you were hot, he must not be aware just how damn near edible he is.

He continued to suck mark after mark onto the skin of your neck, all while his hips rocked into yours with a friction that had you digging your nails into his bicep. One thing you both discovered was that Bradley had a bit of a thing for pain. He loved when you marked his skin with your nails or bit on his bottom lip whenever you kissed, but the thing he loved most was when you tugged on his hair in a death grip. The sore scalp and minor headaches he’d endure later on were so worth it.

So, as you raked your nails down his arm, Bradley just grunted against your neck, driving himself impossibly deeper into your inviting walls. “Yeah,” he breathed out, lifting his head so his lips brushed against yours. “I’m close, too, baby.”

After doing this with you for nearly half a year, Bradley knew your body like the back of his hand. He knew how to get you off in every way possible, and he knew when you were close to that sweet peak of relief.

Using the hand that wasn’t keeping him propped up above you, he presses the pad of his middle finger against your clit, which was still swollen from when he went down on you earlier.

The added stimulation had you crying out, your fingers tightening in his hair as you came for the second time since you arrived at his house. “There you go, give it to me,” he muttered and his words somehow managed to prolong your high. “So good, letting me fuck you when we’re supposed to be with our friends.”

As he continued to fuck into your warm and inviting core, you keep your hand tangled tightly in his hair and tug a bit harder, knowing that it would add to his pleasure.

You were right, as he groaned against your mouth, a mantra of “Fuck,” leaving his kiss swollen lips when he came.

He fucks his release deeper into you, your greedy walls taking everything he gave, before he comes to a stop and lays his body gently down on top of yours.

You release his hair and softly massage the top of his head, smoothing out the messy strands. As you bask in the afterglow, Bradley presses kisses to your bruised skin, a faint smirk on his lips at the sight of your hickey covered neck.

“I’m gonna miss this for the next six weeks,” he confessed and you had to calm your racing heart before it jumped to any conclusions.

“What? Fucking me?” You ask with a quiet laugh, moving your hand to trace your fingers along his sweaty shoulder.

“Fucking you,” he confirmed with a nod, making your smile fade a bit as he continued, “Kissing you, falling asleep with you in my arms. Just you in general.”

That made your smile reappear, and you moved his head so he was looking into your eyes. “You’re going to miss me? Or my body?”

Bradley pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “You,” he answered before he was standing up and holding his hand out to you. “Come on.”

You take his hand and let him pull you up and off of his comfy bed. “Where are we going?”

He steadies you in his arms, a proud smirk on his lips at your inability to stand up on your own because of the number he did on you. “Since we’re already half an hour late, why don’t we make our friends wait a bit longer?”

You smile up at him, letting him guide you towards his bathroom. “What did you have in mind?”

He kisses you deeply, his free hand tangling into your messy hair. “Come join me in the shower and find out,”

You and Bradley showed up a whole hour after your promised arrival time, but neither of you cared too much.

After your shower, you complained that you didn’t have anything you needed at his house, and his reply was one that you were still thinking about now, “You know, it’d be a lot easier if you just kept some of your stuff at my place. You’re here all the time, yet you’re still always unprepared for these kinds of things,” he was referring to your complaint that all of your makeup was at your house, and you had just scrubbed your face clean of the natural look you applied before you got there.

“What, you’re okay with me keeping my makeup all over your bathroom counter so I can reapply it once you’re done fucking it off me?” You had asked, half joking and half totally serious.

“I don’t care, I’m barely in there, anyway. The room could use some personality,” was his response, and it had your mind thinking about things you didn’t usually allow yourself to dwell on for too long.

Nearly six months you’ve been sleeping with him. Six months.

And it’s been five months since you broke rule number one and fell for him.

It was simple, easy, casual.

You started out as nothing. You were a friend of Jake’s, and that in itself was a surprise, so it wasn’t much of a shock when he invited you to go with him to the Hard Deck. When Bradley arrived at the bar a few minutes after you and Jake did, he didn’t pay much attention to the girl under the blond’s arm.

Jake was definitely a ladies man, so to see him with his hand wrapped around a girl’s waist wasn’t all that surprising. He played pool with Nat for a bit before making his way over to the bar, barely acknowledging Jake as he ordered a beer. “Hey, Rooster!” The man greeted, his own beer sloshing around in the glass as he moved towards him.

“Hangman,” Bradley muttered, hoping Penny would hurry up and hand him his drink.

“I want to introduce you to my friend, Y/n,”

That had Bradley turning his head in slight curiosity, a little shocked to hear that the girl currently stuck to his side was only a friend. When his eyes meet yours, his stoic expression drops.

You were beautiful, to put it simply.

He sweet talked his way into getting you to play pool with him, and later ended the night with you sprawled out on the back seat of his Bronco. He found himself under you, on top of you and in you several nights out of the week after that, and now the whole arrangement was about to be hitting the half a year mark.

It started out casual; he’d be there when you needed him, and you’d be there when he needed you.

The decision to not label it was a mutual one as you both believed it would be the best way to go about things.

Only a month in was when you offered to sleep together without protection. You confessed that he was currently the only person you were seeing, and he also admitted that he wasn’t sleeping with anyone else as well.

As the months went on, Bradley began getting more affectionate with you, especially in public and in front of the other guys. While you were sure you were falling for him, he had also been acting as if he was more than just a friend with benefits.

He offered you to sleep over every time you found yourself underneath him well into the night, and he woke you up each day with a good morning kiss and smile.

He lets you wear his clothes, use the appliances in his kitchen and even asks you to stay for dinner most nights.

All in all, he was the perfect boyfriend, but he wasn’t your boyfriend. He just acted like it.

There was a bit of an age difference, with you being twenty five and him pushing thirty five. While he had never explicitly said it bothered him, and he sure as hell never acted like he had a problem with it, you assumed that was why he had yet to make it official with you.

You weren’t reading too much into this, right? You couldn’t be.

He was all over you when you were around, and texted you constantly when you were away from him. He wanted you to feel comfortable wearing his clothes, didn’t care if you ate the leftovers he was saving, and had told you on more than one occasion to start keeping some of your things at his house.

And you had started to, kind of.

Your phone charger was plugged in next to his, a few of your shirts and jeans were currently in the washing machine along with his own, and your beloved hoodie you got from your uni days had a seemingly permanent place on the left side of his bed.

There was no way you had been given the wrong impression, right?

Right?

As soon as you entered the crowded bar, your face makeup free and one of his old vintage shirts tucked into your jean shorts, Bradley was pulling you with him to where Nat stood next to the pool table. “Hey, Rooster,” she greeted as she handed him a cue, nodding in your direction. “Rooster’s girlfriend.”

You expected him to correct her, but he surprised you by just shaking his head and laughing quietly, pulling you closer to his side. Your face heated up as you met Jake’s eyes from across the room, and he smiled as he waved you over to where he was sitting at the bar.

“Hey, I’ll be back in a sec,” you tell Bradley, and he leans down so he could hear you better in the loud bar. “I’m going to go get a drink, you want one?”

“Just one,” he answered before placing a kiss on your lips. “Hurry back so you can watch me kick Nat’s ass.”

Nat slapped his arm as you walked away, a dumb grin on your lips as you made your way to the bar. Jake welcomed you over with an arm around your shoulders and a kiss to your cheek.

“Hey, Jake,” you say as you rest your hand on his chest.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he answered, eyeing something behind you with a sly smirk. “Don’t look now, but your guy friend is glaring at me as if you’re his girlfriend or something.”

Despite his words, you turn and look at Bradley anyway. His brown eyes were on the two of you, furrowed and clouded over with what you think is jealousy. You held back a forming grin, your face heating up at the fact that he was getting jealous at the sight of you with another guy. Maybe it made you seem selfish, but you loved that he didn’t want you to be around other guys in the way you are currently with Jake.

“He does realize that I’m the one who introduced him to you, right?” The blond asks and you just shake your head, leaning over the bar and ordering two beers. “You’re not official, right?”

You clench your jaw at the reminder and shake your head, “No,”

Jake takes a swig of beer as he runs his hand up and down your back in a friendly kind of gesture. “Then I don’t understand why he’s coming over here right now,”

At that, you turn just in time to see Bradley step into your space, his hand on your arm as he tugged you away from Jake. “Hands to yourself, Hangman,” he says coldly, eyeing the other man with a suspicious glance. “We both know I’m the one who’s taking her home after this.”

His words dripped with a sense of possessiveness, and the whole thing had a surge of lust flow through your body. “My intentions are pure, Rooster,” Jake winked at the two of you as Bradley pulled you into his side. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Is that right?” Bradley questioned but didn’t really care for the answer.

“Relax, Bradley,” you murmur, handing him one of the beers. He didn’t take his eyes off Jake as he blindly took it from you, the cool bottle a nice contrast against his heated skin. “I came here with you, remember? That means I’m leaving with you, too.”

That had him meeting your eyes with a proud smirk on his lips, seemingly satisfied with your words. He gives Jake an over exaggerated shrug before pulling you along with him. “Later, Hangman,”

He tugged you over to the pool table once again, his hand sliding from your arm to your hip, where he squeezed slightly. You settle against his side, this position feeling more like where you were supposed to be than just an embrace.

Staying true to his word, Bradley took you back home a few hours later, and you spent the rest of the night wrapped around him in more ways than one, and giving in to his quiet plead of, “Stay with me tonight,”

It was the fifth night in a row he’s asked you to do that, and the fifth time you’ve said yes without hesitation.

The next morning, Bradley woke you up by going down on you until he had you coming twice. He didn’t ask you to return the favor, simply muttering something about “Needing his fix to start the day,”

You help him pack any last minute things, before driving him to the dock in your car. This would be his second deployment since this whole ordeal started, and this time you were completely in love with him. You weren’t sure how you would cope with not seeing him for six weeks, and you wanted him to know that you’d be thinking about him the whole time he was gone.

As you stood with him on the dock, you gazed up into his brown eyes with a sense of longing. “Thanks for coming with me this time,” he spoke quietly, making you grin up at him.

The first deployment was just two weeks into your situationship, and since you weren’t really all too familiar with everything that made up the marvel of a man named Bradley Bradshaw, you stayed home and sent him a simple text that wished him luck.

“Of course,” you reply, inching closer to him when his hands found home on your waist. Your eyes trailed over the scars on his cheek, and you refrained from reaching out to trace them with your finger. “I’m going to be thinking about you every single day, you know.”

This was it.

Bradley smiled down at you, leaning in and running his nose along the edge of your jaw. “You will?” He hummed, pressing various kisses to the marks he had left on your neck the night prior. When you nodded, he pulled back and took your chin between his thumb and index finger, guiding your lips to his in a lingering kiss. “I bet I know what part of me you’ll miss most.”

He was teasing you, but you were about to put your heart in the palm of his hand. “I’ll miss all of you,”

Bradley grinned and took you into his arms in a tight embrace. “I’ll miss you, too,”

From his hunched over position, your mouth was right next to his ear, meaning he was at the perfect height for you to whisper, “I think I’m falling for you,”

There it was.

You had given him your heart. It was his to take, and you supposed it was also his to break, as it was like a switch flipped inside him.

His body tensed against yours, and you immediately regret ever opening your mouth. Before you could take your words back, Bradley pulls away and keeps his hands on your waist as he mutters, “What?”

You felt your eyes burn instantly, your lower lip threatening to quiver as you stared up at him. “I..” You weren’t sure what to say. You had clearly mistaken your role in his life, and you wished you had never said anything. You had completely fucked things up. But there was no going back now. “I’m falling for you, Bradley.”

His eyes flicker between yours before he stands back up to his full height. “That’s what I thought you said,” he muttered under his breath. You feel your heart fall as he steps away from you, his arms dropping back to his sides. “Fuck, I wish you didn’t tell me that.”

You quickly begin building walls up around your heart as you stand your ground, swallowing harshly as you ask, “Why not?”

Bradley’s eyes turn cold as he answers you, “Because that wasn’t what this was supposed to be,”

It was as if that was the most obvious answer in the world.

You shake your head and wrap your arms around yourself, glancing around at the many people who were sending their loved ones off with sad smiles and hugs. “I’m sorry. I can’t help how I feel, Bradley,” you say quietly and he just scoffs.

“We were just having fun, Y/n,” he says and grabs his bag that he had set down on the dock when you arrived. He slings it over his shoulder and places his aviators over his eyes. “That’s all this was. You’re ten years younger than me, what did you think was going to happen here? We’re in two different places in our lives, and I thought that was obvious.”

You break eye contact as the first of many tears begin to fall. “It wasn’t,” was all you managed to say before he was sighing heavily and backing away from you.

“If that’s the case, sorry for leading you on,” he said as he turned and began walking up the ramp. He had only walked about four steps before he stopped with a heavy sigh. He turned to glance back at you, seeing that you hadn’t moved from your spot, and you hadn’t taken your eyes off the wooden dock below you. “Look, I don’t want to leave it like this, but I need to go. I’ll call you if I can, okay? We’ll talk more about it when I come back.”

You just nod, not bothering to lift your head and meet his eyes.

Without another word being shared between the two of you, Bradley steps onto the carrier deck and waits to be shipped off. Though he knows he shouldn’t, he glances up at the dock and his heart falls at what he saw.

You were still where he left you, but that was when he finally caught sight of the tears that were steadily rolling down your face. You did a pretty good job at hiding them when he was right next to you, but now that he was far away, you had lifted your head and he was given a clear view of your pretty face as you cried.

He realized then that he had royally fucked up, and he needed to make things right before he left for a month and a half.

Bradley watched as an elderly woman gently placed her hand on your arm, surely thinking that you were crying because you were sad about having to say goodbye to your loved one, when in reality he had just broken your heart.

As you began making your way through the crowd and towards your car, he cursed under his breath and fumbled around in his bag for his phone, regret filling his body as he clicked on your contact.

He watched as you stopped walking through the crowd and pulled out your phone, and to his surprise, you actually answered. “What?” You sounded so sad, and it only made him further regret the words he said to you.

It wasn’t even the truth, and he hoped you would give him the chance to explain that to you. He needed to be quick, though, because he knew he would quickly lose service once the carrier started moving. “Baby, I’m sorry,” he rasped out, his heart skipping a beat when he saw the way you turned to look over at him. He tried to meet your eyes as he continued, “I’m sorry, okay? Let’s talk about this now.”

You furrow your brows and shake your head. “There’s nothing to talk about, Bradley,”

“Yes, there is,” he insisted, feeling his heart drop once the carrier started to pull away from the dock.

“There’s not,” you muttered. “I mistook my place, disrespected your boundaries and that’s on me. Completely my fault.”

“No, that’s- no,” he begged but he knew he didn’t have enough time to get through to you. “Please, just, wait for me. I’ll call you as soon as I can, we’ll talk and-”

“And what, Bradley?” You cut him off. “You said it yourself; I’m too young for you. Too immature. It’s best if we just end this now so we can both stop wasting our time.”

“You’re not a waste of time,” he said quickly, watching as your form slowly began to disappear the further he drifted away from you. “I’ve loved every second I’ve spent with you, and I think I’m-”

Before he could also give you his heart, you had broken it with a simple sentence, “You’re cutting out,” and you were, too, but somehow your last few words were crystal clear. “I know where we stand now. Goodbye, Bradley.”

And then you hung up. And he was left to drop his hand back down to his side in defeat as he silently prayed he was able to call you within the next few days.

A whopping six hours had passed since Bradley had been shipped off when he found himself missing you.

His arms ached to be wrapped around you, his lips missed the taste of yours, and his heart longed with a sense of need to know that you would still be his once he returned home.

His.

Bradley had to laugh.

You weren’t his.

He hadn’t managed to step up and ask you to take things to the next level yet before he was ruining everything. He hadn’t given a possible real relationship with you a chance.

God, he was so mean, belittling you as if you deserved to be treated with anything other than respect and kindness. He acted like a proper asshole, and he deserved to feel all the things he felt right now.

Shame. Guilt. Regret. Anger. He felt all of it all at once, and he hated himself for hurting you.

Had he known the sad sight of you crying because of him was all he needed to get his act straight, he would’ve told you he loved you when you confessed to falling for him back on the dock.

Bradley loves you. Why did it take losing you for him to realize that?

A couple weeks passed before he was allowed the opportunity to call you, and as he put your number in, he found himself praying to anyone that may have been listening that you would answer.

He felt a little more than deflated when it rang five times before he was sent to your voicemail. He listened to your sweet voice ask him to leave you a message, and he did, but he also knew you wouldn’t be able to call him back once you listened to the message.

If you listened to it at all.

“Hey, sweet girl. I… God, I wish you picked up, but I understand why you didn’t. A few weeks ago…fuck, I was so out of line, baby, and I’m sorry for that. I didn’t mean what I said. I didn’t mean any of it, I’m just a fucking idiot when it comes to this kind of thing and I threw all my issues on you, and you didn’t deserve that,” Bradley waited a beat or two before he continued, “I’m so sorry. I miss you, and I know I have no right to ask this of you, but I hope I can see you on the day I get back to San Diego. I only have just under a month to go, and I can’t wait to see you and talk about this in person, if you’ll let me.”

He felt pathetic, leaving you a sappy message you couldn’t even reply to.

“I’m sorry, again, and I hope things have been going well for you,” he ended the message after that, reluctantly hanging up and returning back to his bunk, where he threw himself down on the bed that felt too empty without you by his side.

It went on like that for weeks.

Bradley would go to sleep, wake up, complete whatever he needed to do for the day, then do it all over again, all while thinking about you.

He was counting down the days until he was able to return home and back to you, but he wasn’t sure he even had the right to seek you out once he was off the carrier.

He had called you again a few days ago, and you had once again given him your voicemail. Two calls in, and it was silent on your end. He missed you terribly, missed your flowery scent, your kind smiles, your voice, and the feeling of your body tucked against his.

Yeah, he missed the sex, but he missed you more. All of you.

You were so close to being his. You had put your heart on your sleeve, completely his for the taking, and he rejected you. Like a fucking idiot.

He knew he would get an earful from Nat once he got back, and he was honestly looking forward to it. He knew he deserved it, and he couldn’t think of a better person to call him out on his bullshit than his best friend.

Another week flew by after he successfully completed his mission, and he was a few quick hours away from the same dock he had left you on a month and a half ago.

While he didn’t expect you to be there to greet him once he stepped off the carrier, he still felt his heart break a bit as he finally let it all sink in. A few feet from where he stood now, he had broken your heart.

He dropped his bag onto the dock below him as he pulled his phone out and called you, once again disappointed when he was sent to your voicemail. Before he could stop himself, he left you a message, “Hey, it’s me. I’m back home now, and I still really want to see you. I want to try to explain myself and why I said the things I did. I’m still so sorry, Y/n/n, really, I am,” he ended it after that, and used the last bit of battery he had left to call Nat in hopes she would come and pick him up.

Like he expected, Nat did end up chewing him out during the entire ride home, and even in his own driveway. Bradley just sat there and took it, knowing he deserved every harsh dig that was thrown at him and more.

When she angrily reached over and hugged him in the car, she promptly told him to get out and that she would see him later at the Hard Deck.

Bradley unlocked the front door and stepped into his house, the silence being the last thing he wanted to be met with. You were in your twenties, you were young and loud and cheerful, he had gotten so used to how chaotic his life had become since you entered it. It was chaotic in the best way, and he missed the loud laughs you would emit as he carried you down the hall to his room, or when the two of you would skip out on beers with your friends to watch a comedy in his living room instead.

He sulked his way to his room, and his heart deflated even more at the sight he was met with. Nat had gone on about how she had to use the key Bradley gave her to let you into his house while he was away, and how she was confused about that until now.

Gone was your phone charger and old movies you kept by the TV he had on his dresser, and he was sure your clothes in his laundry room were picked up as well. The left side of his bed was bare of your uni hoodie, a thing he had a strong amount of fondness for.

Coming home to a quiet house was one thing, but walking into a bedroom that lacked any personality at all was something else. The small things you kept in there made it appear more lived in, more cared for than he had ever tried to make it look, and he once again was reminded just how much he had fucked up.

You made him happy, were the reason he looked forward to the end of his days because it would likely mean he would end them with you, like he had been for the good part of the last six months.

Bradley let out a frustrated sigh as he threw his bag onto the bed. He plugged his phone in before heading into the bathroom, his eyes glancing at the spotless counter. A few of your face washes and creams had taken up space next to the sink the last time he was in here, but now they were gone too.

He quickly realized how much he loved having your things at his house. God, did he miss you.

After the quickest shower of his life, Bradley got dressed in jeans and a Hawaiian shirt and unplugged his phone. It had only been charged up to thirty four percent, but he didn’t plan on going on the device too much once he arrived at the Hard Deck.

He grabbed his keys and wallet before he started up his beloved Bronco, typing out a quick text to you in hopes you’d actually answer him this time.

You’re ignoring me and that’s fine, but I hope I’ll be able to see you at the Hard Deck tonight? If not, maybe we can meet up later and I can explain everything to you. Please. I don’t want it to end like this.

He didn’t want it to end at all, but especially not with you thinking you weren’t all he could ever want.

To his surprise, you had actually gotten back to him pretty fast, and your response had him quickly backing out of his driveway and speeding down the road towards the Hard Deck.

Y/n/n: Seems as though luck is on your side today. Glad you’re back home and safe. I guess I’ll see you tonight.

2K notes · View notes

natashatrace · 2 months

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"you look good."

#hangsteredit #sereshawedit #top gun maverick #hangster #sereshaw #hangman x rooster #rooster x hangman #hangster au #sereshaw au #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #myedit #LET THE AU THEORIES FLY IN THE TAGS AMIRITE KIDS

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bussyslayer333 · 1 year

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There was something ‘bout you

summary: bradley bradshaw didn’t fall in love, especially not with uptight girls in his english lit class and especially not the ones being forced into tutoring him. college au

pairing: fratboy!bradley x tutor!reader

word count: 9.2k

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, mentions of blood, teeny amount of violence, smut (oral and pinv), bradley sucks so bad but he’s cute!! MDNI 18+

Bradley knew girls liked him, loved him even.

He once had a girl leave him a love letter after a night together. It was a sweet touch, the pink paper and the gel pen she’d written it in, he slept with her once more after that but had to cut her off once he caught her snipping a little bit of his hair off in the middle of the night.

Anyways, what Bradley had concluded is that he was an attractive guy. Not too classically like his roommate and best friend Jake with his blonde locks and ken doll looks. But in a boyish charming way with his “big brown puppy dog eyes” or whatever that girl had written in the letter.

So when his Eng Lit professor had told him he was going to be tutored by a girl in his class he was pretty excited to say the least. Truth be told, the only reason he had picked this Eng Lit class was because he knew there would be an abundance of girls in there, sure they were probably a little more intellectually advanced than the girls he would usually go for but maybe that was what he needed. Some girl obsessed with like gothic literature, Jake had assured him they were the freaks he needed to bag.

He’s already started tuning out Professor Clarke’s spiel on getting his grade up and started imagining all the hot girls in his class who could possibly be tutoring him. There was Clara, she was the kind of gothy Jake was on about, he could definitely be into that. Or even Natalie, she was who Bradley usually went for, pretty brunette and what Jake would call in his omniscience; a colossal rack.

“Bradley, are you listening to me?”

Bradley pulled his mind from the depths of analysis of the girls in his class and hummed,

“Yes, Professor.”

“So you know who I’m assigning to tutor you?”

Bradley winces apologetically and watches as Professor Clarke runs a hand down his face.

“Please, Bradley. I’m just asking you to try and put some effort in, she’s only gonna be able to do so much to help you, you need to help yourself.”

Bradley sighs, “who is it?”

When Professor Clarke gives Bradley your name and tells him that you’ll meet him after class tomorrow his first thought is “who the fuck is that?” and his second one is in mourning of being in forced proximity of a hot goth chick or one of the girls who he’s already slept with.

Bradley walks back to his house slightly dejected, if he couldn’t even recognise you from your name there was probably not a huge chance you were going to be the ‘bad boy gets taught in a different way by his tutor’ wet dream he was hoping for. When he finally gets back he finds Jake lounging on the couch with another one of his frat brothers Reuben.

Jake looks up from where him and Reuben are watching this weeks football highlights on the TV to meet Bradley’s moping gaze.

“You good bro?”

Bradley replies with a whine, “Professor Clarke is making some girl tutor me.”

Reuben snorts and shovels another handful of chips into his mouth, “hot.”

Bradley rolls his eyes and flops onto the couch in between his two friends. He says your name to the two boys and begins, “do you know her?”

Jake’s eyebrows furrow in thought for a moment before he smacks Reuben on the back of the head,

“Bro?” He whines.

“It’s the library chick!” Jake exclaims.

Reuben looks confused for a moment before he realises, “oh shit yeah!”

Jake and Reuben looks happy for themselves for a few moments before Bradley interrupts again, “When the fuck have you ever been to the library?”

Jake frowns, “I’ll have you know that I read, the classics are my favourite!”

“What classics?” Reuben scoffs.

Jake smiles, “You know, the classic ones?”

“Where’s Waldo isn’t a classic J,” Bradley smirks.

“Shut the fuck up, okay I was trying to impress this girl in my econ class.” Jake admits, “she’s very well read.”

Bradley mutters something about Jake being pussywhipped before deciding he needed to get back to the problem at hand. You.

“Okay, so library chick. Do I know her?”

Jake racks his mind for a minute, scowling at Reuben’s loud chewing sounds.

“Fuck, yeah okay, do you remember last year? She dropped that massive encyclopaedia on your hand after you whistled when she was bent over sorting out books.”

Bradley cringes in recollection. In his defence he did think he was complimenting you… albeit with not much class or subtlety. You were cute. Maybe a bit nerdy, but you clearly had guts which he appreciated.

“Shit.. yeah.”

Bradley hoped you weren’t one for grudges.

You weren’t for the most part, and when Professor Clarke had told you who you would be tutoring you had decided last years incident could be water under the bridge. You figured he didn’t even remember you, he hadn’t acknowledged your presence in the one class you shared either way.

However, when he came sauntering down from his seat right at the back of the lecture hall and paused in front of you by Professor Clarke’s desk you were already becoming mildly irritated.

Bradley could tell, and he also knew that he was goading it on by making eye contact with your tits before your eyes and then saying,

“Hey, beautiful.”

He watches as you scoff and mutter something that sounds similar to “fucking prick.” It makes him smile.

Professor Clarke sighs loudly and speaks directed towards you, “I trust you’ll be able to help Bradley, Lord knows he needs it.”

Bradley’s smile drops, “Hey! I literally submitted my last assignment in on time!”

Your face drops in shock, is that seriously what he considers a win?

Professor Clarke looks at Bradley and sighs once again, “you sent me a gif of a rat dancing and made the subject of the email “The Great Ratsby”.”

Bradley sputters slightly but clears his throat feeling the weighted stare of Professor Clarke still on him. The older man smiles thinly as you thank him for his time and move towards the door. Bradley is hot on your tail, and he rounds on you once the reach the corridor.

“So…. how are we doing this angel?”

Bradley can’t control how his lips quirk upwards at you apparent distaste for the pet name. He can’t help but wonder what you’d appreciate more; maybe sweetheart or baby or something cute like bunny. He’s snapped out of his thought process by you waving your hand in front of his face.

“Earth to Bradley?” You quip.

He shakes his head a smiles, “Sorry what was that sweetheart?”

He notices how your brows furrowed once again before you start up, “I could book a study room in the library? Wednesday at 6?”

Bradley nods, “Sure, can I get your number?”

You’re taken aback slightly before Bradley clarifies, “So we can text about when to meet?”

“Oh. Right, yeah of course.”

Bradley reaches for his phone in his hoodie pocket and hands it to you, opening it up to his contacts. Before you can type in your number you can’t help but notice the sheer amount of girls in his contacts. All with specific names.

cass (toothy ❌)

natalie (.)(.)

samantha (screamer ✅)

It makes you’re stomach churn in mild horror, which your push down in favour of finally typing in your number. You hand his phone back to him and watch as he chuckles whilst writing your contact name. He doesn’t let you see it before shooting you off a short “hi” text to send his number to your phone.

Bradley stares at you for a moment before whistling, “right… so I’ll see you Wednesday?”

You smile awkwardly back at him, “yeah.”

He readjusts his cap and nods in a goodbye before turning to leave the building. You try to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach as you walk out the exit opposite.

It’s 6:45 on Wednesday when Bradley finally shows up. He’s wearing black joggers and a top that you presume is a few sizes too small with a cap placed backwards on his head.

He felt kind of shitty about being late, he was leaving to get to the library at 10 to 6 when Jake and his other frat brother Mickey called him over whilst they were playing COD, he thought he could squeeze in a game and not be too late. Evidently, he was wrong.

You’re reading a book which he doesn’t recognise when he finds you in the study room and begins to apologise.

“I’m sorry for being late sweetheart-”

“Yeah. Whatever Bradley, let’s just start.” You breathe out, not having the energy to listen to his excuses.

Bradley’s pissed at that. He came in here willing to apologise and you think you can make him feel bad? Not likely.

“There’s no need to get bitchy? I literally said I’m sorry.” Bradley snorts, pulling a chair out opposite you with a loud scrape.

You scoff, “seriously? I’ve been waiting for you for almost an hour!”

“Yeah and I said sorry!”

“That’s not the point-”

You catch yourself before you carry on, he wasn’t worth the waste of breath.

“Look it’s fine. Let’s just get started.”

Bradley pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek and leans back.

“Alright.”

The session is as productive as you can make it with your significantly shorter period of time. You find out that Bradley knows little to nothing about any of the texts that you’re studying and enjoys annoying you deeply. You’re not sure whether he hates silence or just loves the sound of his own voice. You figure it’s the latter.

“You’re glasses don’t fit you properly.” He points out after you push them up your nose for the third time in the past minute.

They’re slipping down your nose as you look down to read over some notes Bradley had made.

“Sure they do.”

Bradley shrugs and leans back again. You can feel his heavy gaze on you as you push your glasses back up again. He doesn’t say anything. Just smiles.

You’re cute, for sure. He kind of digs your chunky cardigan library assistant vibe. Maybe if you loosened up a little he’d like you even more. Bradley starts to wonder what you’d be like at one of his frat parties. He doesn’t think he’s seen you anywhere outside of class or the library. Maybe you’d go absolutely buck wild after a few of Reuben’s infamously too strong drinks. He figures you’re probably his friend Bob’s type, you’re both sort of nerdy and cute in a mousy way.

Bradley doesn’t realise he’s been zoned out looking at your face for the past two minutes until he sees a book being dropped down on the desk in front of him. It gives him slight PTSD from the encyclopaedia incident. He picks up the book and looks at you, confused.

“What’s this?”

You laugh with an almost unbelieving look on your face.

“Shakespeare? Romeo and Juliet? We’ve just started going over it in class?”

Bradley picks up the book of various Shakespeare plays and skims through it until he reaches Romeo and Juliet.

“Yeah, my bad, I think I recognise this.”

You cringe inwardly at the amount of work you’re probably going to have to put in to stop Bradley from failing.

“Great.”

Bradley smiles at what he thinks is praise from you and goes back to reading the first scene of the play. You’re blessed with a blissful silence for a moment whilst Bradley reads and you send off a few texts to you roommate Maya about how the tutoring session is going.

maya 😘😘

how is it???????

you

he’s an idiot

i’m pretty sure i saw him read dickens on the reading list and snort and then mumble “dick” under his breath

maya 😘😘

LMFAO

the cute ones are never smart

you

maya 😘😘

shut up you’d hit

you

i find that offensive

Before you can send off another annoyed text to your friend, Bradley speaks up again.

“Do you like, read and shit?”

You stifle a giggle, “what?”

“Like books?”

“Are you seriously asking the girl who works at the library-”

Bradley chuckles, “Okay! I see my mistake, what’s you’re favourite book then?”

You hum whilst staring at him, it was an oddly thoughtful question.

“Probably Wuthering Heights. It’s by Emily Brontë.”

You’re not quite sure why you told him the last part. There was no doubt in your mind that Bradley Bradshaw did not know who the Brontë sisters were.

He cocks his head to the side, “what’s it about?”

You’re not sure whether Bradley genuinely wants to know about you and your interests or if he just doesn’t want to actually study, Bradley is equally confused because he’s asking his question in earnest.

“It’s about this guy called Heathcliff who gets adopted into this family and falls in love with his sister Catherine, he grows up to find out that she’s a married another man and basically becomes obsessed with avenging what could have been his.” You try to explain as simply as possible.

“HIS SISTER?” Bradley exclaims with a laugh.

“It’s not like that-”

“Babe, I didn’t realise you were into that freak shit.”

You can’t control your laugh at the absurdity of his words. Bradley really likes that sound, and the way that your eyes crinkle. It’s weird, he suddenly feels like he wants to be the only person to make you do that.

Once you’ve calmed down you look back up to see Bradley staring at you once again. You quirk an eyebrow up questioningly before looking at the clock behind him.

“Shit, we need to go. I only booked this place till 8.”

“What! I swear I only just got here!”

You snort, “Yeah well if you’d been on time…”

Bradley pouts at you, “Baby, please. I’m sorry.”

It’s half mocking, but the way he’s staring up at you with wide eyes makes your stomach flutter slightly. You shake your head as if to banish the thoughts and begin picking up your books.

“Just be on time next week, please.”

Bradley stands, moving round the table and pats you on the head.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

The gesture makes your frown slightly, but it served as a reminder for how you suppose Bradley truly feels about you. You’re not friends, and he doesn’t like you in any romantic capacity. You’re just the girl forced into tutoring him.

The next few tutoring sessions go somewhat the same. Bradley has a short attention span but tries his best, he’s nice enough to you that you can sometimes forget he’s slept with half the girls in your class.

You’re sat next to him in the study room doing some quick flash card recap questions. He’s fiddling with a thread at the end of your long sleeve shirt, it feels kind of intimate but you don’t want to look into it too hard. It’s been like this over the past few weeks, touches that last too long and his incessant usage of pet names. But, every time you begin to let yourself feel special you’ll catch a glimpse of a girls name flash across his phone screen and your predicament hits you right across the face with a loud crack; shattering the hope you’ve been building.

Bradley moves from playing with the thread on your top sleeve to your fingers, mumbling a correct answer to one of your questions. He keeps finding the need to be close to you, and not even always in a sexual way which shocks him the most. Don’t get him wrong, he’s definitely thought about it a few times in the shower, or in his bed or even when he was fucking Natalie last week and he suddenly thought about how cute you’d look with your glasses sliding down your nose whilst you’re sat on top of him. He had to look away from Natalie for the rest of the time she was there, he felt too guilty.

The morning after when Natalie had left surprisingly early, Jake (who had been noticing the lack of girls flowing in and out of his shared room on Bradley’s part) had an inkling as to why.

“You like her.” Jake declares as he plops himself down in the gaming chair in his room, spinning to face where Bradley is lying on his bed.

“What?”

“The library chick. The one who’s been tutoring you.” Jake expands.

“What do you mean?”

“You like her!”

Bradley huffs, annoyed at Jake’s insistence, “yeah, she’s cool.”

Jake rolls his eyes, “no, you like like her.”

“You’re 12, and no I don’t!” Bradley removes his hands from behind his head and moves to sit up straighter against his headboard.

Jake clicks his tongue, “okay so you wouldn’t mind if I fucked her?”

Bradley cocks his head to the side but doesn’t say anything.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, she’s kind of hot.”

Jake watched as a muscle in Bradley’s jaw ticks. He knows he’s struck gold.

“Maybe we’ll do some roleplay, she can be my sexy teacher and I’ll bend her over the desk.” Jake wraps his knuckles against the desk behind him and chuckles, “sturdy.”

Jake knows he’s almost got Bradley as he watches him clench and unclench his fist.

“I mean that ass, it’s insane really I’ll tell you how it feels afterwards if you-”

“Shut the fuck up! Fuck! Fine okay I fucking like her, what do you want me to say?!”

Bradley’s outburst doesn’t surprise Jake in the slightest. In fact, it puts a smile on his face.

“Nothing. I just wanted to know.”

Bradley rubs a hand down his face, he’s pretty sure he’s never felt like this before. It kind of scares him to be honest.

“You should invite her here on Friday.”

Friday. For the party. Bradley thinks about it for a second, “Bro, not if you’re going to try and fuck her.”

Jake chuckles, “she’s all yours, her roommate is the girl from my econ class so if anything this is selfish of me.”

Bradley smiles, “alright.”

After Bradley answers another question correct you smile at him brightly.

“Looks like somebody’s been hitting the books!” You poke, setting your flash cards down on the table.

Bradley warms at the praise and looks at you for a moment.

“Will you come to my party on Friday?”

You study his face for a moment, he looks almost nervous.

“I don’t know Brad, it’s not really my scene and I wouldn’t really know anyone,” you smile apologetically at him.

“You know me!” Bradley reasons, pulling your hand into his.

“And you’re gonna spend the whole night sitting with me? You’re funny.”

Bradley thinks about how he’d definitely do that if you asked him to.

“Bring your roommate! Maya is it? I’m pretty sure Jake is in love with her.”

Bradley’s words make you giggle and you consider for a moment, when you look back to Bradley he’s got an adorable pout on his lips,

“Please don’t make me beg, angel.”

Although the idea of Bradley on his knees begging is tempting, you’re not that cruel. You pretend to think for a moment more before answering.

“Fine. But only in the name of Jake and Maya.”

Bradley is pleased with your answer, “Thanks, angel.”

You smile, “whatever.”

You check your phone and find that you’ve spent the last 10 minutes of the session just chatting with Bradley.

“We need to go,” You remind him.

Bradley looks a little crestfallen but stands anyway. He helps you gather your books and puts them into your tote bag for you.

“Thanks.” You mumble as he hands the bag to you.

He scratches the back of his head for a moment before speaking, “Can I, like, walk you back?”

His gesture makes you smile, as well as his sort of nervous demeanour, “Little old me? Bradley Bradshaw wants to walk little old me home?” you tease.

The familiar smirk makes its way back onto Bradley’s face at your prodding. “Shut up, I’m being a gentleman or whatever.”

“Well then, who am I to decline?” You smile at him.

“Dork.” Bradley mutters under his breath as he opens the door for you.

Bradley takes your bag off of your shoulder and places it on his own, once he feels the weight settles down he looks at you shocked,

“You carry this shit around everywhere?”

The confused look in his eye makes you laugh, “yes?”

“This is so heavy? What are you even carrying?”

“Books? My laptop?”

Bradley laughs, “Shit, maybe I need to start coming to these sessions more prepared.”

Bradley pushes open the main door to the library and the cold night air hits you unexpectedly, making you shiver in your long sleeve tee. He looks down at your attire and rolls his eyes.

“Hold this for a sec.” Bradley drops your bag back into your hands and begins to pull his hoodie up over his head.

You go to protest but your mouth falls open awkwardly at the way his t-shirt rides up, exposing his toned lower abdomen and the sprinkling of hair that leads all the way down-

“Angel?”

“Yes! Sorry, what?” You stutter out with a chuckle.

Bradley gestures for you to hand him back the bag and hands out the hoodie with his other hand. You take it and pull it over your head, revelling in the smell of it. It’s partly his cologne and the rest something uniquely him.

“Ready to go?” Bradley asks, looking down at you.

“Sure,” You smile up at him.

Bradley feels his stomach flip, looking down at your frame drowned in his hoodie. Before he can even process what he’s doing Bradley has slipped his hand into yours. You don’t say anything in fear of him retracting it but the smile that sits on your face is blinding.

You walk in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, Bradley squeezing your hand every now and then in reassurance. You turn a corner and watch as you apartment complex comes into view. Squeezing his hand you look up at him and speak,

“This is me.”

Bradley pouts a little, “You don’t want me to walk you all the way in?”

You giggle and shake your head, “No don’t worry.”

You reach for the hem of the hoodie and begin to pull it up when Bradley stops you.

“Keep it. Please. It looks better on you.” He almost whispers.

You flush at his words and look at him with furrowed brows, trying to study his expression. Whether he’s being truthful or not. He hands your bag back over to you and nods.

“If you’re sure.” You smile, “I’ll see you Friday?”

Bradley winks, “You better.”

“Night Bradley.”

“Goodnight, angel.” Bradley hums.

He watches your retreating frame until you’re inside of your building before spinning on his heel to walk in the opposite direction back to his house.

Bradley pulls his phone out of his pocket, checking through his messages as he walks. He finds himself deleting almost all of the irrelevant numbers from girls that had been littering his contacts without much thought. Once he’s done he goes to pocket his phone again before it vibrates in his hand.

angel ❤️‍🩹

thank u <3

Maya has been ready to go for the past half an hour as she sits on your bed and watches as you pick up various dresses and items of clothing before discarding them on the floor.

You’ll admit you probably look ridiculous stood in your underwear with a full face of makeup on and your hair pulled up into a styled ponytail but it was not your priority at this second.

“I have nothing to wear! I’m not going Maya, just go without me!”

Maya sighs and walks towards you’re closet, rifling through the particularly skimpy dresses you had purposely avoided. She pulls out a short blue halter neck dress and shoves it into your hands.

“Go put this on.”

You roll your eyes at her tone, “okay, mom.”

“And don’t ruin the makeup I did!”

You wander into the little bathroom and begin to pull the dress over your head when Maya opens the door with a tiny scrap of fabric in her hands.

“You are not wearing those granny panties,” She looks pointedly down at the cotton panties with flowers that you have on.

You pout, “They’re comfy.”

Maya struts over and places the lacy garment in your hand, “Bradley can thank me later.”

“Shut up!” You exclaim, trying to hide your smile.

“I’ll be in here if you need me,” She giggles,

“Wait! Maya you didn’t give me a bra!” You whine.

She rolls her eyes, “I know.” Before closing the door behind her.

You strip out of your comfy underwear and look down at the baby blue lace and sigh, at least you’d shaved. Pulling the dress over your head whilst trying to maintain Maya’s artistry was hard but not impossible you found, and when you pulled the dress the rest of the way down you realised you didn’t need a bra anyway. You spin a little, looking at yourself in the mirror. You looked good.

There’s a new found confidence in your walk as you make your way back to your bedroom where Maya is sat fiddling with the buckle on a pair of wedges in her lap. When she looks up she hollers at you,

“Damnn! Twirl for me gorgeous!”

You laugh at her antics but indulge her anyway gasping in faux shock when she slaps your butt playfully. She hands over the wedges and your eyes widen slightly at the height.

Maya laughs at your expression, “baby don’t worry I’m sure they’ll be in the air more than they’ll be on the ground anyway.”

“You’re relentless!” You swat at her before bending down to do up the shoes.

You gather your phone and some lipgloss before linking your arms in Maya’s.

“Let’s go?”

“Let’s go.” She confirms.

You check your phone once your a block away from Bradley’s frat house. There’s a few messages from him that you’ve yet to respond to.

brad 🙃

when are u getting here??

i miss u angel

you

almost there :)

You snort at how needy Bradley sounded, there was probably enough girls there to keep him entertained.

It’s not hard to miss Bradley’s house, there are people littered around the front yard drinking and the music could be heard from at least a block away. As you walk up the steps on the front porch you wobble slightly on your wedges and Maya steadies you, she sees the anxious look in your eyes and smiles,

“You look so hot right now babe,”

You roll your eyes but let the nerves sink down as she grips onto your hand tighter.

The house is pretty packed with girls in tiny outfits and an unnerving amount of shirtless dudes. Maya leads you through the crowds to where there’s a group of dudes playing beer pong. As you get closer you recognise Jake and Bradley and a few other guys from their frat.

Jake spots you both first, nudging Bradley. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous when Bradley makes eye contact with you and starts making his way over, much to the disappointment of the frat bro he was playing with. You look to your side to find that Maya has already made her way over to Jake and when you look back Bradley is right in front of you.

He’s still tall enough that you have to look up to make eye contact with him, and his cologne clouds your thoughts. He takes your hand and drags you over to a quieter corner of the room. Bradley’s eyes rake over your form hungrily, you drop your hands in front of your stomach almost on autopilot.

“You look incredible, angel.” Bradley speaks earnestly.

He takes both your hands in his and holds them up so he can stare at you again.

You can feel the heat emanating from your cheeks as you look up at him, “You think?” You ask somewhat coyly.

Bradley nods, tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration, making you giggle. He takes one of your hands and spins you around just slightly and whistles lowly,

“Can I take a picture?”

You roll your eyes and spin back around to face him, pushing lightly at his chest, “Shut up.”

He raises both hands in mock defence and shrugs, “worth a shot.”

You move to stand to the side of him, back against the wall and take a moment to look at him. He looks handsome, as always, but you can tell he’s put extra effort in. He’s wearing a thin shirt with two of the middle buttons done up and dark jeans. You’re sure he could have forgone the shirt with how much of his skin is exposed but you can’t complain seeing how tightly it fits around his biceps. His hair is tousled but in a way that looks purposeful and he smells incredible.

Without realising, you’ve inched closer to Bradley and his cologne hits your nose in a pleasant surprise. When you meet his eyes you find that he’s already looking at you.

“You smell good,” you murmur.

Bradley leans down so that you can hear him clearly, “thank you, angel.”

His lips brush against the shell of your ear so delicately that you could almost pretend that you imagined it, but the way a shiver runs down your spine tells you otherwise. Before you get a chance to compose yourself Bradley is imposing on your personal space again and speaking into you ear,

“Do you want me to get you a drink?” He nods towards the kitchen on the far side of the house.

You consider for a moment, then nod.

“Please.”

Maybe it would help calm your nerves.

“I’ll be back in a sec.”

Bradley departs from his space next to you with a wink, his lack of presence already making you frown. Instead of moping, you survey the surrounding area for Maya, hoping to check in with her.

You finally catch sight of her when her hot pink dress catches your eye as she ascends the main staircase with a tall blonde who you can only recognise as Jake. You giggle, swiping open your phone to send her a text.

you

use protection 😘

You can only hope she reads your message.

After a few more moments of scrolling through your phone you look up to realise Bradley still hasn’t made his way back to you. First you consider the fact that this is a party that he is hosting, he could have been sidetracked by any one of his numerous frat brothers or friends.

So, you decide to make your way to the kitchen, just so you could retrieve your drink of course.

What you’re not prepared to see is short brunette girl kissing Bradley, because of course that’s what held him up from getting your drink. It serves as a reminder of the fact that he is not your boyfriend and had no intention of being so, you figure he probably got tired of waiting for you to put out so he moved onto the next girl. You see that someone had lined up a few tequila shots on the counter nearest to you and knock back the few closest, wincing as the liquid warms the back of your throat all the way down to your stomach.

You close your eyes and breathe out, stomach churning from the shots and sight you’ve just seen, you spin on your heel to walk away from the counter but stumble whilst turning around too quickly. You probably would have hit the floor if it wasn’t for a strong grasp, steadying you by the waist.

“Shit, you okay darlin’?” The person who saved you from near embarrassment drawls out.

You steady yourself with hands on his surprisingly hard chest and look up into his blue eyes. He’s handsome, even with his wired frame glasses slipping down his sloped nose. He’s not less attractive than Bradley, just in a more refined way.

“God, I’m sorry, I’m not used to wearing shoes this high yet.” You mumble sheepishly, frustrated that you’ve managed to embarrass yourself in front of another freakishly attractive man.

“I’m Robert or Bob or whatever you want to call me,” Robert smiles down at you, speaking somewhat loudly to combat the thumping bass of whatever song was currently playing.

You give him your name and he smiles brighter if possible, almost as if he’s shocked you’re still talking to him.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” He charms, watching you giggle.

His words almost make you forget what you had seen in the kitchen, the memory making you frown ever so slightly. Robert mistakes this for annoyance at his words and quickly adds on,

“Sorry, that was stupid and-”

You’re quick to silence his anxieties, “No, I liked it.” You speak in earnest, propelled by liquid courage.

Robert scratches the back of his neck and cocks his head to the side, “Do you want to dance?”

His question makes you smile, because yeah you do want to dance and fuck Bradley Bradshaw.

“Totally.” You beam up at him.

Robert pulls you toward the living room where people are crammed together dancing, sweaty bodies moving on top of each other in some cases almost obscenely.

The music seems to be vibrating off of the walls and the familiar voices of Rihanna and Bryson Tiller fill your ears. Robert seems somewhat apprehensive but the tequila buzzing through you makes you confident as you turn you back to him, grinding your ass back subtly as to test the waters. Robert’s hands move to grip at your waist, aiding you in grinding back onto him. You move one of your arms to rest around his neck and you giggle as you hear him groan quietly into your hair.

Bradley returns to where he’d left you flustered and annoyed carrying two red cups. Natalie had cornered him in the kitchen and tried to kiss him. He was furious, he’d sent her a text a few days ago apologising and letting her know he wasn’t interested in seeing her again. Clearly, that didn’t matter to her. After she had forced herself on him, he shoved her off somewhat awkwardly and told her firmly that he wasn’t interested. Bradley realised she was clearly already plastered and retrieved one of her friends from nearby to look after her.

He felt bad for leaving you on your own for so long but he hoped that if he could explain you wouldn’t be too annoyed.

However, when he gets back he finds that you’re not there. Initially, he worries that you’d left to go home. But after scanning the large living room packed with people, he spots you, grinding back onto his friend Bob.

Bradley’s stomach drops watching how you giggle at something Bob has whispered into your ear, how his hands and wrapped around your waist and how your ass is grinding back onto his crotch.

Without realising, Bradley has began to storm through the clumps of intoxicated people, dropping the drinks on a side table nearby. Fuelled by anger and jealously he pulls at one of Bob’s arms wrapped around your waist.

Bob stumbles back and turns with brows furrowed,

“Bradley? Are you okay-”

Before he can finish his question, Bradley’s fist hits the side of Bob’s nose with a sickening crunch, pushing him to the ground before raising his fist to hit him again.

The people who were previously dancing have made a circle around the commotion, drawing the attention of Bradley’s frat brothers Reuben and Mickey who push to the middle of the circle and grab Bradley before he can cause anymore damage.

“What the fuck man!” Reuben scolds in his ear, pulling him from his anger induced trance.

Bradley stops struggling against Reuben and Mickey’s grip, and instead looks down to see you tearfully wiping at the blood spilling from Bob’s nose in copious amounts.

Your watery eyes are looking up at him with so much anger that he feels bile rising in his throat. He runs a bruised hand through his sweaty hair and sighs. He can hear Mickey trying to get everyone to disperse, clearly not wanting his friend’s dirty laundry being aired out in front of everyone they know. Bradley can’t focus on any of the words being spoken to him, just the utter look of disappointment on your face.

A few hours later almost everyone has left the house. You’re sat on a bench in the backyard knees tucked under you and wedges removed and on the floor. Maya and Jake are sat next to you, they had returned to find an almost empty house save for you and Jake’s frat brothers.

Bradley had stormed out following Reuben and Mickey’s intervention, he couldn’t handle looking at your sad face and being the one who caused it.

“I just don’t know what the fuck he wants from me!” You exclaim to Maya.

Her and Jake had been filled in by you and Jake had the decency to look sheepish. It was his idea to invite you tonight, he knew how Bradley felt about you but it wasn’t necessarily his place to say.

You didn’t know how to feel, you were still upset from seeing him kiss that girl, confused as to why he punched Robert if he clearly wasn’t interested in you. Maybe it was some strange frat bro mentality, he didn’t want you but he also didn’t want anyone else to have you? It was all too confusing for 2am.

Maya’s hand is comforting on your back, rubbing circles and trying to alleviate the stress radiating off of you. Guilt is eating at Jake’s stomach and he’s about to spill everything he knows when he hears the glass patio doors opening from behind him.

He turns back and makes eye contact with Bradley, trying to non verbally say “not the time.” But you’ve noticed his presence before Jake can save him.

“Fuck off, Bradley.”

Bradley winces, he deserves your anger.

“Angel, please. Hear me out?” Bradley pleads.

He looks awkward, scratching at the back of his neck, nervous for your answer.

You look to Maya and she shrugs. She thinks you should hear him out, of course she does.

You sigh, “Fine.”

Jake and Maya exchange words silently and move to leave. Jake pats Bradley on the shoulder, he knows how shitty Bradley feels about how tonight went down and he also knows that he’s just been at Bob’s apartment apologising profusely.

Bradley sits down on the bench next to you, he wants nothing more than to pull you into his lap and tuck his chin on top of your head, but he knows that probably wouldn’t go down too well right now.

“I’m so fucking sorry angel.” Bradley breathes out.

You raise your eyebrows, “I don’t get you Bradley!” you huff out, “You walk me home and call me ‘angel’ and you have no concept of personal space but then I see you kissing some girl in the kitchen whilst you’re supposedly getting me a drink and then as soon as I-”

“I wasn’t kissing anyone!” Bradley cuts in, confused.

“Bradley there was only one person in that house wearing a floral button up and he was kissing a girl in the kitchen when I went to check on you.”

Bradley racks his brain for a moment before he realises what you’re talking about.

“Oh shit. Natalie.” Bradley concludes, mostly to himself.

You roll your eyes, “Great to know you caught her name before you let her shove her tongue down your throat.”

Now you knew her name you recognised her, she was in your Eng Lit class. Natalie was gorgeous to make you feel even worse.

“Angel, I didn’t want to kiss her.” Bradley sighs, “she was wasted and pushed herself on me.”

You look at him sadly, wanting so badly to believe him, “really?”

Bradley shuffles closer towards you, placing his hand over yours resting on the faded wood of the bench.

“I wouldn’t lie, angel.” Bradley promises, squeezing your hand.

“Still doesn’t excuse you acting like a fucking neanderthal and punching Robert, he didn’t deserve that. He’s sweet.” You’re not willing to fully forgive him yet.

Bradley feels anxiety pool in his stomach, at the thought of what he’s going to have to say to you.

“I know and I told him how sorry I was. I just, you make me crazy you know?” Bradley laughs out, “the first time I met you, you dropped an encyclopaedia on my hand. Do you remember that?”

You giggle slightly at the memory, “You deserved it.”

“Yeah well the thing is sweetheart, I deserve a lot of shit. I know I kind of fucking suck, but one thing I really don’t deserve is you.” Bradley smiles nervously.

“You’re so smart, and I’m such an idiot because I thought I could try and pretend that I’m not in love with you.”

Your eyes widen at Bradley’s confession. He looks pale with anxiety, he doesn’t think he can remember a time where he’d ever been nervous when talking to a girl. But this was so much different. Because it’s you.

Bradley can’t help the word vomit that seems to be pouring out of his lips, “You’re so beautiful, but that’s not the reason I love you. I love how smart you are and how you’re funnier than me and all my friends combined. I love the way you make me feel when I’m with you. I know I’ve probably completely fucked this up tonight but I just wanted you to know how I feel.”

The vulnerability in Bradley’s words makes your heart clench, the way his eyes are staring at you so deeply, shining in the moonlight like he’d do anything for you. You can feel the tears pooling in your lash line.

“Oh Bradley.” You give him a watery smile, reaching your free hand up to cup at his jawline.

“I love you too, you dick.”

Bradley laughs, loud. Relief is sweet but not as sweet as how you look, staring at him with wide eyes and pouted lips.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispers.

You nod and surge forward, hands coming to rest around his neck. Bradley pulls you into his lap and connects your lips. He thinks about the cherry chapstick you always carry in your bag and how he can taste it on you now, how soft your lips feel against his. His tongue pushes against your lips tentatively, you grant him access and sigh contentedly at the feeling of him.

One of Bradley’s hands is soft at the back of your head, guiding you against him gently whilst the other is tracing circles against your hips rhythmically. You trace your nails in patterns against the short hair and the back of his head and smile into the kiss as he moans at the feeling.

Bradley goes to deepen the kiss once again but is stopped abruptly by a noise coming from behind him.

“We should check on them, oh-”

You pull back from Bradley sheepishly with a wet saliva caused noise and make eye contact with Maya. Then Jake.

Jake is the first to laugh, “I told you they’d be fine.”

You wake up before Bradley at noon the next day. You’re lying in his bed draped in a large t-shirt of his.

The sun is streaming through his thin curtains and you’ve been swapping your gaze between a shirtless Bradley and something that caught your eye on his bedside table.

Bradley begins to stir with an aggressive yawn and stretch that almost wipes you out. You whack his arm out of your face and lean down kiss his forehead.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.” You giggle.

Bradley groans and smushes his face into your boobs,

“I’m tired.” he mumbles, muffled.

You thread a hand through his curls and speak tentatively,

“I have a question.”

Bradley sits up at that, moving so he can look at you properly.

“When did you get this?” You reach for the book on his bedside table, it’s a copy of Wuthering Heights with an old receipt sticking out at around the half way mark being used in place of a proper bookmark.

Bradley’s cheeks flush slightly, “Like, I don’t know. Maybe a few days after that first session in the library.”

Your cheeks hurt from trying to suppress your smile. You reach forward and kiss him sweetly, handing resting on his toned chest.

When you pull back he chuckles, “I wanted to impress you.”

“That is the sexiest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

Bradley cackles at your emission until he realises how deadly serious you’re being.

“Angel.. we need to change that.” He smiles, lifting at the hem of his shirt on your frame.

You hum and connect your lips again, slipping your tongue into his mouth as he begins to pull at the t-shirt.

You separate for a moment to let him pull it off you fully. On reaction your hands reach up to cover yourself but Bradley catches them before you get the chance. He manoeuvres you so that he’s now the one on top and stares down at you hungrily.

“Jesus christ, angel.”

His hands reach for you breasts, squeezing them appreciatively. His thumbs flick over your pebbled nipples, smirking upon seeing how you preen into his touch, back arching up off of the bed.

Bradley moves to kiss down from your lips to you collarbones, paying specific attention to your pulse point, tongue lathing at where he sucked a mark too harshly. He can feel the blood rushing to his cock, straining against his boxers, at the sounds of your little whimpers and moans.

Bradley attaches his lips to one of your nipples, swirling his tongue in circles, revelling at how your breath hitches.

“Fuck, please Brad,” you whimper from underneath him.

He unlatches his lips and rests his head on your stomach.

“What do you need angel? Anything.” He promises.

Your teeth bite into your bottom lip as you consider, “your mouth?”

Bradley smiles at your request and shucks the covers off from his back, he moves down the bed slightly and sits back on his knees. His hands reach forward to grasp at your panties, pulling them down your legs. You lift your hips to aid him and giggle at how he holds them appreciatively once they’re off.

“These are cute.” He admits.

“Thanks, babe.” You giggle, make a mental note to tell Maya.

“But this. This is fucking incredible.”

Bradley lifts your legs over his shoulders, head dipping down to look at your pussy. He blows a cool breath onto your glistening folds and smirks at how your squirm at the feeling.

“Does me reading seriously make you this soaked?” Bradley chuckles.

You buck your hips up and whine, “yes! It’s cute you wanted to impress me.”

Bradley laughs and decides to put and end to your waiting, licking a stripe up your folds. The sound you make is music to his ears. He swirls his tongue around your clit, arms holding your thighs from closing around his head.

He licks at you languidly and moans against your pussy, “you taste amazing.”

Bradley’s words make you whimper, a shiver of arousal running down your spine.

“Keep going, baby please.”

Bradley’s tongue dips into your hole, fucking into you for a moment before coming back up to swirl at your clit. He’s moaning almost as much as you, the vibrations making your hips jerk up against his hold. You reach a hand down to grab at his hair making Bradley whimper. The noise shocks you slightly and makes you gush, pleasing Bradley to no end.

He sucks at your clit, spurred on by your hand grasping at his curls.

“Fuck, I’m close Brad please.” You whimper out.

Bradley flicks at your clit once more then pulls away, tongue poking out to lick at your juices that have accumulated around his chin.

You whine at the loss of contact and the pout on your lips almost makes Bradley cave, before he speaks up again.

“I want to feel you around me angel.”

You shiver at his words and nod, pulling him up by his chin to kiss him. You can taste yourself on his tongue and you can tell he knows it too by the way he smiles against your lips.

He pulls back only to reach for a condom from a drawer in his bedside table. He hands it to you to open whilst he pulls off his boxers. Although, you’re sort of hypnotised by how handsome he looks in the sunlight peaking in through his cheap curtains. His skin is tan and he has a few moles dotted around his chest, but most importantly there’s a sprinkling of dark hair that spans from between his pecs all the way down into his happy trail. When you catch sight of his cock your mouth waters slightly and Bradley laughs.

“It’s rude to stare, angel.”

“It’s rude that half the girls on this campus have seen the snake between your legs, Bradley.”

He snorts at you short streak of jealousy and moves to cup your cheeks with his hands.

“You’re the only one for me, angel.”

He sighs against your lips as he feels your small hands wrap around his dick. He looks down and groans loudly at the sight of you slowly stroking him before ripping open the condom he had given to you.

You let go of him so that he can roll the condom down his length, shuffling down so you can lie with your head resting against the pillows. Bradley sits on his knees between your thighs, staring down at you intensely.

“You’re so beautiful, angel.”

He leans down to connect your lips quickly and pulls back only slightly so he can watch your features as he guides his cock towards your entrance, dripping in arousal.

He pushes in slowly, smirking as you whimper quietly. You roll your eyes at his expression and whisper into his ear,

“Fuck me like you mean it, Bradshaw.”

Bradley laughs and hikes your legs up higher around his waist. He plunges into you without warning, revelling in how you squeak in surprise. His thrusts are deep and calculated, hitting at the right spot almost every time.

You moan out gutturally, “shit, right there Brad.”

The way his name rolls off your lips make Bradley grunt in pleasure, speeding up his thrusts if even possible. You feel incredible around him, squeezing at him just right. Bradley continues his ministrations but reaches a hand down to toy at your clit, smirking at how your moans increase in pitch. He makes circles around the bundle of nerves and feels his eyes rolling to the back of his head at the way your walls are pulsing against him.

You reach a hand down over Bradley’s to swirl at your clit, he groans loudly at the sight, head dropping down to stare at where he’s fucking in and out of you. He moans a little pathetically but can’t feel it within himself to be embarrassed when you tighten so deliciously around him.

“I’m really close, angel.” He groans, leaning down to breathe into your neck.

“Me too, baby.” You whine, kissing the top of his head, “please cum for me, Bradley.”

Your words were all Bradley needed to reach his peak. His hips stutter against yours as he spurts into the condom and the feeling combined with your fast swirls against your clit shoots white hot pleasure through you, pushing you over the precipice as well.

Bradley is a panting mess above you, his skin sticking to yours with sweat. He pulls out of you slowly and ties off the condom. When he flops down next to you, you kiss all over his face, squealing when he grabs your face and smushes your lips together. He pulls away from you and stares at you in your sweaty post sex glow and smiles.

You catch his eyes and hum, “you’re so pretty, Bradley.”

His lips quirk as he reaches to stroke his thumb over you cheek.

“I’ve not heard that one before.”

Bradley eventually ventures downstairs to retrieve you a glass of water and makes eye contact with Reuben as he goes to ascend the stairs again.

Reuben flips him the bird without looking, “you’re fucking loud bro.”

Bradley can’t find it in himself to care.

No one is more surprised on Monday morning than Professor Clarke when he sees you walk into his lecture hall with Bradley Bradshaw wrapped around your waist, your usual large tote bag now slung over his shoulder.

He watches in amusement for the hour as you note diligently and raise you hand as usual, however there was now the addition of Bradley. Pointing at your notes when he wanted something explaining or whispering something in your ear after you made a good point that makes you smile.

Professor Clarke finds it sweet, albeit slightly confusing considering the tension that surrounded the two of you when you’d been introduced.

Once your class has finished Bradley helps you pack your things up before putting your bag over his shoulder once again,

“You know I can carry my own bag?” You tease, poking at his bicep.

“Then how will everyone know you have a super strong and handsome boyfriend?” Bradley rolls his eyes playfully.

As you’re descending the stairs you spot someone walking towards you and Bradley from the corner of your eye.

“Natalie, hi.” Bradley speaks awkwardly, placing a comforting hand on your waist.

“Hi Bradley… I just wanted to apologise, I was fucking wasted on Friday and I didn’t realise you have a girlfriend and I should have read your texts properly and I’m really embarrassed to be honest,” she chuckles out awkwardly.

You smile at the girl, sensing her guiltiness. You look to Bradley who has a small smile on his face as well.

“It’s cool,” Bradley speaks truthfully.

She nods and sends you another apologetic smile before making her own exit from the classroom.

Once she’s out of earshot you turn to Bradley,“That was nice of her,”

Bradley nods and threads his hand in yours, leading you down the rest of the stairs. As you walk past Professor Clarke’s desk he calls out your name. He gestures down to where you’re holding hands with Bradley and jests,

“I’ll admit this was the last outcome I was expecting when I asked you to tutor Bradley here.”

You can feel Bradley’s smirk from next to you and roll your eyes, “He’s not so bad.”

a/n: HERE SHE IS LADIES AND GENTS!!!!! fratboy!brad and his angel 😭😭😭

my apologies for how sucky he gets BUT HE MAKES UP FOR IT PROMISE

also apologies for making him deck bob LMFAO

as always i love to hear feedback so pls comment, reblog or send me an ask and tell me what you think!

thank u for reading!!!

- honey <333

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thewulf · 3 months

Text

My Treasure || Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Summary: Request - I need a Bradley x reader or Jake x reader based on the quote, “I can’t keep being your second choice, not when you’re my first.” Some angst to fluff goodness maybe

A/N: Ahh thank you for the request! You guys always have the best. Hope you enjoy some good old angst/fluff! Hope you guys enjoy :)

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Y/N

Word Count: 1.7k +

Your eyes glistened with unshed tears as you watched the small tea candle burn out without a trace of Bradley. It was the sixth time in as many nights that he had let you down. He’d promised you he would be home tonight in time for dinner. You’d gotten ready, decided to look cute for him and cooked his favorite meal. You were excited at the thought of reconnecting with your long-time boyfriend. It had gotten hard before, sure, but this distance was like nothing you’d felt before in the years you had been together. It felt like your worst fears were coming true, he was pulling away from you. Planning to leave you.

With a huff you left the uneaten food on the table for him to see when he got home. You weren’t planning to be there. You called your mom with tears flowing letting her know you were planning to stay with her for the next few nights. She didn’t question a thing and told you your room would be ready. She’d have time to pester later, you needed her not to right now.

In a rush you through your clothes haphazardly into an overnight bag. You’d have to figure out your living situation later. In your haste you hadn’t heard the front door open and close. Or his curse downstairs. Nor his heavy footsteps on the stairs as he walked up to your shared bedroom. You’d only noticed him when he placed a hand on your shoulder sending you into a slight panic as he startled you.

His head cocked to the side in confusion seeing you bag, “Hon, what’re you doing?” He squatted so he was eye level with you.

“To my mom’s.” You turned back to your packing doing your best to ignore the confused man who really shouldn’t be giving you the look he was, or you were going to snap. How could he not have a clue?

He knew he had messed up when you shrugged off his touch, “Why would you do that? We have to eat the dinner you made.”

You shook your head, “It’s cold Bradley.”

He scrunched his nose looking over at you, “I can warm it up hon.” He tried to offer a simple solution to the scowl you were giving off to him.

“That’s not the point.” You were biting your tongue and even he knew that. He wasn’t that clueless, and you knew that.

“I’m sorry I was late… time just got away from us…” He paused seeing you weren’t listening to him. You were going to snap, and you knew it. Why was he out if he knew he was supposed to be home tonight? Why didn’t he seem to care about you?

You looked at him with a sadness he had missed so many times before, “I asked you for one thing Bradley. I’ve asked you for one thing for weeks. I just wanted a night with you.”

He frowned immediately, “I’m so sorry honey. This mission has just been hell. I didn’t want to take it out on you…”

“Then why wouldn’t you just tell me that?” You turned to him, standing now. You were irritated. Tired of second guessing yourself, “I’ve been seemingly by myself for the last four weeks Bradley! Do you know how fucking lonely that is? Do you know how I’ve been rattling my damn brain to try and figure out what the hell was going on with you? Did I do something? I’m tired. I’m going to my mom’s. Now move.” He had stood as you ranted at his inaction. He’d never seen you so agitated and heated. You were his calm and collected girl. He really must’ve done a number on you without even realizing it.

“Baby I’m…” You were in no state to hear him out. You’d made up your mind and that was that.

“I followed you across the country.” You let a tear roll down your cheek, “I thought we’d be happy here. My mom lives here. It’s been nothing short of miserable.” You tried moving around him, but he kept stepping in front of you.

“Move Bradley.” You felt that similar irritation bubble up once more.

He shook his head, “Afraid I can’t honey.”

Letting out a breath of frustration you felt the tears welling up once more, “Move!” You yelled at him when he blocked you once more.

“I’m not letting you drive like this Y/N.” He spoke calm and steady now trying his best to reach you in your distressed state.

“Then leave me alone.” You huffed pushing on his chest trying your best to push him out of the room.

“No, let’s talk about this.”

You let out the sob you’d been holding back before exploding on him. You’d really tried your hardest, but you were tired, and it was hurting you to look at him, “I can’t keep being your second choice, not when you’re my first!” You knew it’d hurt him and that’s exactly what you were aiming for, as much pain as you could inflict. Sure, it was childish. But you finally got your point across.

“Baby no.” He shook his head, “That’s not true. Please don’t say that. Please.” He took a step towards you. But you took a step back. He got the hint and let you be.

“You keep saying things but it’s like you can’t stand me anymore Bradley! I don’t know what I’ve done.” You backed up and sat down on your shared mattress. Leaning down you let your head fall into your hands as you finally let yourself cry it out. You finally let all the emotions you’d been holding back come out fully. You’d been making yourself feel crazy and he hadn’t even had a clue anything was wrong.

You felt his hand on your back as he sat down next to you. The felt the dip of the mattress as he did so. This time you didn’t shrug him off or run away. He wasn’t going to let you. He knew your automatic reaction was to run and hide and deal with it on your own. He promised you he wouldn’t let that happen anymore. He was going to be there for you. In whatever capacity you needed. And now you needed to talk for you’d been keeping it in. Bradley wasn’t clueless but he also wasn’t a mind reader. He never ever dreamed of hurting you. His favorite girl. His favorite human. His very best friend. His heart ached as your body wracked and sobbed. He never wanted to see you cry let alone be the reason for the salty tears.

“I’m so sorry Y/N. I’m so sorry I haven’t been around to even notice this. Work has been… tough. I’m not supposed to tell you this but we’re being tasked with a pretty dangerous mission. One that somebody may not come back from. I don’t want to tell you this to freak you out but I’ve been worried. I have to come home to you. I am making sure of that. And I’ve done that by neglecting you. Please, you have to believe me. We’re not out drinking. We’re prepping, strategizing. Trying to figure how in the hell we’re all coming home.” His voice trailed off as your red eyes and cheeks turned up to him in disbelief.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Your voice was horse from the crying you’d allowed of yourself.

“It’s classified.” He answered quickly, “I can’t risk getting you in trouble honey. But I should’ve warned you. I’m so sorry.”

You nodded contemplating his words. You knew he was being nothing but sincere and it was you who was overreacting. A flush of embarrassment rose from your chest as you realized it was a big miscommunication between the two of you. It was odd because you were usually so in sync, but you brushed it off.

“I am too. I’m sorry I overreacted.”

He took your chin in his hands, “You didn’t. You’re just reacting because you care. I’m sorry I pushed you away. You have to know you’re never my second choice. Everything I do is for you. Sometimes I lose sight of it thought.” He smiled sheepishly as he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek. You shuddered over his gentle touch.

“I don’t deserve you.” You mumbled letting your eyes close under his gentle gaze.

He hummed brushing his hands along your lips, “I disagree.”

Your eyes opened to look right into his once more. Even after all this time your heart still hammered in your chest when he looked at you like that, “I love you.”

That smile was one you always adored seeing on him, “And I love you my favorite girl.” He kissed your other cheek this time, “I’m sorry I ignored your asks. It won’t happen again.” He smirked right on over at you. Gosh, he really couldn’t believe he was about to let you slip away without even realizing it. He really needed to pull back at work every now and then. He should’ve known you were too kind to complain about him always being gone. He’d ignored your requests for time alone taking you for granted. You’d used your words like he’d asked, and he still managed to mess it up.

“It’s okay.” You nuzzled your head into his hand enjoying his comfort after being apart for so long. Sure he had been here, but he wasn’t really present.

He shook his head, “It’s really not. I’m lucky to have you honey.” He kissed your forehead slowly. Letting his lips linger as he pulled you into his lap, “I’m so sorry.”

“I forgive you.” You let your hands trace along his face smiling brightly as he looked down at you.

He let out a long sigh letting himself just hold you in his arms, “My treasure.” He whispered before finally meeting

You giggled more to yourself when your lips parted, “You’re so cheesy Bradley Bradshaw.”

He nodded giving your side a squeeze, “And you love it.”

You let yourself melt into him feeling all the tension release from your body, “That I do.”

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @mamachasesmayhem

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jupitercomet · 11 months

Text

The Importance of Introductions

summary - Living in a new apartment, you run into your neighbor all the time. You run into him in the hallway, on the elevator, at your best friend's bachelorette party where he's dressed as a sexy firefighter. After seeing him in nothing but a pair spandex briefs and suspenders, you know have to move. Or sleep with him. One of the two.

warnings - stripper au, tangled dynamic, language, light smut - (masturbation, accidental voyeurism), no use of y/n, Bradley is 6'7" because I said so, chapter specific

word count - 3.2k

so seductive masterlist

Perhaps the last thing you expected to see when you opened the door of your brand new apartment was a very tall man standing in front of you in nothing but a towel.

“I think this is your cat.”

And you think that this cannot be happening.

From the moment the keys to your new apartment were dropped in your hand, you set one goal for yourself: leave a good impression with your neighbors. You baked brownies to give them as you introduced yourself and then realized some people might not like chocolate, so you proceeded to also bake cookies, scones, and muffins. You journaled about it in your bullet journal—with your fancy gel pens and everything! You ran through your wardrobe at least three times to pick out the perfect outfit to wear while you greeted everyone on your floor. You were going to leave a good first impression.

Turns out the one thing you didn’t account for was one of your neighbors beating you to it. Because in front of you stands the guy who you’ve seen coming in and out of the apartment next door. In one hand he has your cat in a football hold, while the other holds a terry cloth towel that is precariously hanging around his waist. Because, yes, apparently your cat had interrupted him mid-shower.

“I’m so sorry! I swear, one minute I could see him and the next— He’s just very curious and this place is so new for him. Honestly, once he learned how to open doors I kind of—” You cut yourself off when you realize you’re rambling, muttering an apology as you try to train your face to keep hidden the utter mortification you’re currently feeling.

Guy Next Door snorts, raising his brows slightly as an amused smile takes over his face. “Yeah, imagine my surprise when I looked down and saw Houdini here sitting in my shower.” He lifts your cat up slightly—who has the audacity to yawn, looking all too pleased with himself after putting you in this position in the first place. “I figured he was probably yours.”

“He is, thank you. Pascal loves water, so that’s probably why— Oh my god, I’m sorry! Here, let me take him,” you hold your hands out for your cat, now even more embarrassed that you let your almost naked neighbor hold him for so long. “Again, I’m so sorry about this. I promise it won’t happen again.”

Guy Next Door waves you off good-naturedly. “No worries.”

Maybe it’s the fact you're so flustered and embarrassed that you can’t even think straight. Maybe it’s because your very attractive neighbor is standing in front of you in nothing but a medium sized towel. Maybe it’s because your brain’s decided to just throw this whole “good first impression” thing out the damn window, but you can’t stop yourself from blurting, “Would you like some brownies?”

Guy Next Door opens his mouth, before looking down at the towel he’s holding around his hips.

“Right, sorry! Finish your shower,” you hastily interrupt him before he can speak. “I shouldn’t have— It’d be weird if you came into my apartment without clothes on… Not that you were going to! I just—” It takes your brain a second to catch up to the desecration you are currently inflicting on the English language and you let out a small, defeated sigh. “I’m sorry about my cat.”

As if agreeing to—or maybe protesting—your statement, Pascal meows in your arms.

Guy Next Door bites his lip and you can tell he’s trying not to laugh, but he manages to hold it back. He gives you a quick up and down, his smile growing. “I will definitely take you up on your brownie offer later, how ‘bout that? And you,” his eyes travel down to Pascal, crouching slightly to be somewhat closer to his level, “better knock next time, buddy.”

With that, he gives you a small wave goodbye before heading back to his own apartment.

You wait for his door to shut before you run inside as well, closing the door and locking it quickly as you let out the breath you’ve been holding. You look down at your cat, who’s already pawing at the door frame, with an angry glare. “I cannot believe you! I turn around for one second and you’re already terrorizing our neighbor?”

Pascal blinks at you lazily, seemingly indifferent to your lecture and more interested in getting back into your neighbor’s shower. His fluffy tail swishes on the hardwood as he continues to sit in front of the door.

“You know, I was thinking about growing catnip in that little planter by the kitchen window, but I’m certainly not going to now.” Pascal meows and you cross your arms with a shake of your head. “Well, you should have thought of that, mister. Maybe next time, you’ll think before you decide to embarrass me like that—”

When you turn back to face him, Pascal is already stretched out, pawing at the doorknob. He bats at it a couple times, turning the knob, but of course it stops itself from opening—the lock making sure the door doesn’t move at all. You stick your tongue out at him.

“Yeah, that’s right, try opening the door now.” Your triumph is short-lived when Pascal gets bored and promptly trots away, not nearly as shaken by this morning’s incidents as you are.

Hesitantly, you check out your keyhole to see if your neighbor is somehow miraculously in the hall again—or if anyone else witnessed what just happened. Neither seem to be the case thankfully and you sink to the floor in relief. You let the back of your head thud gently against the door.

“Okay.” You scrunch your face, shaking your head vigorously as if that will shake your embarrassment off you. “This is fine. I’m fine. This was a good idea.”

Pascal meows suddenly, padding over to you and nudging your elbow with his nose. You smile softly, giving him a scratch behind the ears.

“I’m not actually mad at you, baby. You’re too cute to be mad at.”

Pascal chirps in agreement and the two of you look out at your living room that’s littered with unopened boxes. You get up suddenly. “C’mon, Pascal. Let’s go find which box I put your scratcher in.”

The next morning, you’ve somewhat recovered from the horrific display that was your first meeting with your neighbor. In fact, you even think that there’s a chance you can salvage it. You’ll make sure Pascal stays securely in your apartment at all times—lest he start breaking into all your neighbors’ homes—and you’ve been practicing in the mirror so that you can converse in small talk without turning into the nervous wreck that loudly points out her neighbor is naked.

Grabbing a tupperware from one of the boxes in your living room labeled “Kitchen”, you place a few brownies in it before setting it aside to write a quick note on a colorful piece of construction paper. Your tongue sticks out slightly as you scribble with sharpie on the light purple paper. You weren’t sure what color Guy Next Door would prefer—he isn’t the type of guy who you just know what their favorite color is. You decided to play it safe and pick your favorite color instead. Everybody likes light purple, right?

After reading your note for the eighth time, you doodle a quick flower before holding it up. “What do you think?” You hold the construction paper for your cat to evaluate.

Pascal meows his approval and, with that, you take a deep breath. Sliding your shoes on, you check that you have everything before looking down at the tupperware and note in your hand. You can still make a good first impression. You’ll give these to Guy Next Door, have brunch with Callie, and pretend like your first meeting never happened. Maybe you and Guy Next Door can even be friends! You already know Pascal likes him.

With your confidence renewed, you place the brownies on Guy Next Door’s doorstep, giving them one last look before heading to the elevator.

In case you still wanted brownies! p.s. thanks for returning my cat :)

You make it to the bistro you’re meeting Callie for brunch at with little problem. Though you didn’t actually move that far, you’re now living in a part of the city you’ve never been in before and you had fun exploring all the small shops and interesting avenues on your walk. This brunch would mark the first time you ever actually stopped at one of those places, but you’ve made a promise to yourself that you’re going to explore everything this part of the city has to offer.

Callie’s already waiting at a table, waving when you politely explain to the hostess that you’re under her reservation. With her hand in the air, the huge diamond on her finger catches in the sunlight, reflecting patterns of light on a small section of the table cloth. You grin, excitement renewing when Callie stands up to hug you.

“Gosh, Callie, you might blind someone!” You tease.

Callie scoffs. “What? With this old thing?” She flexes her fingers out to show off her ring with a giggle.

The ring is beautiful, with a large, oval diamond in the center. Two smaller, circular diamonds rest on either side of the center one, sparkling just as brightly, and they’re all held together by a polished, silver band. You remember how excited you were when Billy called you out of the blue one day asking about Callie’s taste in engagement rings. To say the man did not disappoint would be an understatement. Honestly, you don’t even want to know how much that ring costs.

“I know it’s been months since the proposal, but it’s still so pretty, Callie,” you praise it softly, taking one last look before you both go to sit down at your reserved table. “I’m so happy for you.”

Callie preens. “Thank you! I know I’ve been acting all obsessed over the ring, but I honestly think I’m more excited for the wedding.”

“Have you found a venue yet?” you ask.

Out of the two of you, Callie had always been the one to jump at playing house when you were kids or save songs she thought might be good for a first dance. You’d never been huge on weddings. You always felt that you’d get married, but your wedding specifically, you didn’t think about much. There were no Pinterest boards or dream dresses, you didn’t know what season you wanted or what theme—not like Callie. But, while it was something you hadn’t really thought about, you know how long Callie’s been waiting for her wedding and you can only imagine how happy she is now that she’s finally planning it.

Callie gives you a joking look. “Who do you think I am?”

“I’m sorry,” you laugh. “I should have known. You probably have a separate binder for it and everything.”

Callie grins as if to reaffirm the assumption, before her grin falters. “I’m really sorry about the bachelorette party. I don’t want you to think I didn’t want you to plan it, Lucy was just really excited and I didn’t realize she had already started planning until it was too late to say no.” Callie gnaws her lip anxiously, fiddling with her engagement ring as her eyes dart to and away from you.

“I don’t mind!” You wave off her apology. “With moving and everything, I doubt I would have thrown a very good one. This one will probably be much more fun.”

Callie frowns knowingly at your words. “Well, I would have loved whatever you threw for me,” she says decidedly. “But, while we’re on the topic, how’s your new place?”

At the reminder of your apartment—and your not so stellar arrival—you wince. You’re saved from explaining anything when the waitress comes by to take your order, but Callie goes right back to looking at you intently once you’ve finished ordering and you know you’re trapped.

You let out a breath, fiddling with one of the cloth napkins rolled up on the table. “Well… I already met one of my neighbors.”

“Oh, were they nice—”

“Pascal broke into his shower,” you blurt, covering your face in mortification. “And then I managed to act like a complete weirdo when he came over to return him—in a towel, by the way. But,” you perk up suddenly, “I dropped off brownies at his door, so crisis diverted… maybe.”

It’s quiet for a moment as Callie blinks at you. “Was he cute?”

“Very,” you groan, letting your forehead rest against the table cloth.

“Well… that’s not the worst thing to have happened,” Callie offers kindly. “Was he friendly about it, at least?”

You look back up, brows furrowing in slight suspicion. “Way too friendly. Like weirdly nice for a situation where your neighbor’s cat has seen you naked before you’ve even introduced yourself.”

“Well, he probably thought you were cute too!” Callie claps excitedly, drawing the attention of a few tables nearby, but they all look away once they locate the source of the sudden sound.

You look at her incredulously. “I don’t think that that’s the first assumption that should be made. Maybe he’s just nice.”

“Oh, come on,” Callie drags out the word, giving you a look. “If that’s the case, don’t you think he would have at least put a shirt on?”

“Hey! Don’t slut shame my neighbor,” you defend.

Callie rolls her eyes, ignoring the look of shock one of the other bistro patrons shoots you in response to your outburst.

As your best friend in the whole world, Callie knows you better than anyone, and so she certainly knows that you will do everything in your power to make sure that something like that never happens with Guy Next Door again—even on the very small chance that he wants it to. But as her best friend in the whole world, you know that Callie is the most hopeless of romantics at heart. And if she wanted that, then she could just turn on When Harry Met Sally because you were most certainly not going to flirt with your neighbor.

“Look,” you say finally. “I promise you, it wasn’t like that. And absolutely nothing like it is going to happen again.”

“So, no heated romance with your neighbor?” Callie checks with a small pout.

A flash of Guy Next Door runs through your head and you nod resolutely. “No heated romance with my neighbor.”

“Fuck…”

A muffled groan passes through the wall of your bedroom and you freeze. Your body comes to a quiet halt on your mattress—no longer trying to get comfortable under the blankets. You can’t even risk swallowing, afraid it might be too loud and you won’t be able to confirm that you’re hearing sounds coming from Guy Next Door’s apartment. Or worse, you’re too loud and he hears you. After a second, you hear another, louder groan.

“That’s it… Shit… That’s it…”

You have to slap your hand over your mouth to cover your squeak of surprise, eyes widening as you stay frozen in the middle of your bed. Is your neighbor having sex right now? No, no he can’t be. You heard him come home—as you are now learning, your walls are quite literally paper thin—and there wasn’t anyone with him then. He hasn’t left his place since either so you know he has to be alone. Maybe he’s… really into folding laundry.

“Take my cock, baby, just like that. That’s a good girl.”

Your thighs clench and you’re reminded that your hand is still covering your mouth because it muffles your whimper. So your neighbor is definitely having sex right now. There’s a flutter in your stomach when you remember your first encounter with him. His defined muscles that looked like they were carved out of marble. The taut, tanned skin stretching over them, still wet from his shower. His towel was flimsy at best, drooping right at his curled happy trail. You swallow thickly just thinking about the peek you got of his v-line.

The muffled sound of pants and curses fill your room as you think of your neighbor and whatever he had hiding under that towel. Timidly, your hand crawls down to your pajama pants and you bite your lip as your fingers brush the waistband of your panties. Now that you’re actively listening for it, the sounds of your neighbor pleasuring himself are louder and your eyes flutter closed to breathy growls and deep grunts.

You squirm, arousal sitting heavy between your legs, and your fingers dip under your underwear. There’s something about the thought of your neighbor fisting his cock into his hand that has you worked up in the best way. With your eyes closed, you can see him, teeth gritted as his large, calloused hand works up and down his length. You can see a shimmer of sweat along his hairline and across his thick, corded shoulders. You imagine sinking your nails into his defined back, running them down the expanse of it as he pounds into you hard enough that your bed frame thumps against the wall.

With your head so close to the shared wall of your neighbor’s, it almost sounds like he’s grunting right into your ear. You clamp down on your lip to stay silent when another low “Good girl” travels through the plaster. Your hips can’t help but buck, shoving your hand further into your panties.

“I’m close, shit. I’m—”

Your eyes snap open at his heavy pants and you lurch up from your bed. What are you doing?! You rip your hand from your shorts, trying to clear your head as you stand up quickly and look down at your mattress in horror. You cannot believe you would do that! Why would you do that? You have to get out of your room and away from Guy Next Door and his stupid voice and the way he makes you want to stick your hand in your pants apparently.

Grabbing your pillow, you make sure to stay as quiet as possible as you creep out of your room and back out towards the safety of your living room—that doesn’t share a wall with your neighbor. Pascal lets out a questioning chirp from where he’s loafed on one of the couch cushions and you try to ignore the way your cheeks feel like they're on fire.

“I think I’m gonna sleep here tonight,” you try to say cheerfully, forcing a smile for the sake of your cat.

At some point while you’re tossing and turning on the couch, it occurs to you that you still don’t even know your neighbor’s name. You flop so you can look up at the ceiling and let out a tired sigh.

You’re really bad at this introductions thing.

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ereardon · 1 year

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That Summer || Part One [Bradley Bradshaw x Reader]

A Bradley Bradshaw AU

Summary: One night during the summer you turned eighteen, you woke up to a surprise. Your father, a retired Navy Admiral, had posted bail for the son of a former colleague who was now orphaned and had gotten himself mixed up with the law. Instead of letting him get lost in the judicial system, your father signed himself up as Bradley Bradshaw’s guardian to prevent him from going to juvie. You were explicitly told to stay away from the boy in the attic room. But as the summer went on, you and Bradley struck up an unlikely friendship that turned into a forbidden relationship. Bradley tipped your world upside down, challenging everything you had once thought you knew. How could the two of you think it would end any differently than it did when your father called the cops the night he found the two of you in bed together?

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, illusion to violence, mention of dead parents, angst

Wordcount: 3.5K

Series masterlist here; Part Two here

“Do you know him?”

You looked over. The familiar dark hair. The tanned, even skin. The dazzling smile. You could hear his laugh in your ear even though it had been years. You could practically feel the vibrations of his voice and the way it used to smooth over your skin in the middle of the night as the two of you laid side-by-side on the queen mattress, the stars twinkling through the skylights of your childhood bedroom.

You would know Bradley Bradshaw anywhere. It didn’t matter that it had been fifteen years since you had last seen him. It didn’t matter that you hadn’t heard your name fall from his lips since the night the two of you were ripped apart. It didn’t matter that you had once told yourself you’d never love another person the way you loved Bradley, only for him to be gone in an instant.

You looked up one last time. And watched as Bradley turned, his hand pulling at the sunglasses that sat squarely on his nose until he was looking, staring, at you. And it was just the two of you, once more. It was like none of it had ever happened, and also everything had happened. And you were eighteen again, on the beach, in Galveston. And he was just a boy who held your hand and promised you the world even though he didn’t have a dime to his name. Even though he had no right to offer you a future, even if you both knew it was a lie.

You looked away. “No,” you whispered softly. “I don’t know him.”

***

In the middle of the night, you jolted awake in bed. The sound of voices in the foyer and the familiar thump of the giant wooden front door as it sealed closed caught your attention. Your father ran a tight ship and an even tighter house. It was incredibly unusual that anyone would drop by unannounced in the middle of the night. You turned to the clock on your nightstand. It was after two in the morning.

Silently, you eased out of bed and tiptoed out of your room into the hall, peering down from the railing of the curved staircase. Two stories below, you heard voices and spotted several figures moving into your line of sight through the wooden posts on the stairwell.

You saw your father’s familiar, formidable, figure first. Tall stature, hair grayed with age. You could tell, just by how rigid he was standing, that this wasn’t a positive interaction. He radiated anger and disappointment, even from two stories away. You were all too familiar with this side of him.

The next person who popped into your field of view was a police officer, dressed in uniform. You frowned. Your father, a retired Admiral, wasn’t unfamiliar with the local Galveston police force. But they didn’t make it a habit to come to your house at two o’clock in the morning, unannounced.

Finally, a third figure floated into view. You sucked in a breath. He was young, late teens, with sandy brown hair, wearing a ratty t-shirt and a pair of shorts. You watched his body language. How he kept his eyes trained on the ground, head bowed so low his chin must have been touching his chest. How even from all the way on the third floor you could tell that he was in desperate need of a shower.

And then, finally, the voices ceased. The policeman held out a hand to shake your father’s. He looked at the boy, who raised his eyeline and nodded solemnly. And then the door was shut and it was just your father and the boy, staring at each other in the foyer. You leaned down, close to the white wood posts in the railing, trying desperately to hear what they were saying. And then you watched as your father sighed, shaking his head, heading for the stairs.

Before you could scramble out of your crouched spot, the boy looked up, catching your eye.

That was the first time you saw Bradley Bradshaw.

You were seventeen, about to turn eighteen. You had your entire life ahead of you. You had kissed boys before. You had thought, wrongly, that you had experienced pain before. You had thought you understood the world and its intricacies. You thought you knew exactly where your life was going to go.

Everything you had ever known went out the window that night as you looked down the curved flights of stairs and saw Bradley. Everything you had ever thought was true was flipped on its head the second his warm brown eyes locked on yours.

You scurried back to your room, closing the door as you heard your father’s footsteps on the second floor platform, starting his ascent to the third floor. You waited with baited breath as two sets of footsteps passed your room, turning down the hallway toward the attic tower room.

Your family had moved to Galveston five years prior once your father finally retired from his post at Top Gun in California. The first time they brought you down to Texas, you gawked at the house. It stuck out like a sore thumb. A giant Victorian monstrosity near the beach, with a steep, gabled roof and a round tower on the right side.

The tower room remained empty for as long as you could remember. It was mostly storage for your mother’s hideous Christmas decorations or whatever hobby she decided to have that week that would inevitably get stored away once she turned her mind to something else.

The sounds of their footsteps grew more muted as the two of them climbed the stairs to the tower room.

You closed your eyes, trying to wash away the haunting image of the boy staring up at you only moments before. But it was burned in your retinas.

Somehow, even then, you knew. He was going to change everything.

***

When you woke up the next day, you had almost forgotten about the entire event the night before.

That was, until you floated downstairs in a tiny white cotton pajama set and spotted an unfamiliar, but somehow familiar, person sitting at the breakfast table, their back to you, just a head of brown curls in view.

You looked up at Louise, the housekeeper, with a frown. She shrugged.

“Y/N.” Your father’s voice boomed across the expanse of the kitchen. You turned as he strode into the kitchen through the side door, already dressed for the day with nowhere to go. Thirty-five years in the Navy had acclimated him to a sleep schedule that you could never wrap your head around.

“Daddy,” you said softly, stepping further into the kitchen. The boy at the table remained still, not facing you, instead looking out through the bay window next to the breakfast nook, overlooking the ocean.

“Louise, can you get my daughter some coffee, please?” he asked and she nodded, returning in a moment with a delicate china cup filled coffee with cream, exactly the way you liked it.

“Thank you,” you whispered softly.

Your father’s eyes rolled over to the boy at the table. “Y/N. This is Bradley Bradshaw. He will be staying with us for a while.”

Still, he didn’t turn. You stepped forward, sliding into the bench seat that hugged the curve of the bay window, setting your coffee cup down gently. “Hi.”

That’s when Bradley finally met your gaze. You had to stifle a gasp. He had cuts and scrapes across his face and down his neck, and a black eye that you hadn’t been able to distinguish in the darkened lighting the night before. His lip was split. He looked at you silently for a moment before uttering, “Hey.” His voice was timid. Broken. He didn’t sound at all like what you had expected.

You weren’t sure what you had expected.

Your father put his hand on your bare shoulder. “Bradley’s father and I served together at Top Gun back in the day.”

“That’s nice,” you said, taking a sip of coffee. “Is he still in California?”

“He’s dead,” Bradley said and you sank back in shock. The way he said it had the effect of curdling the milk in your coffee. It was cold. Detached.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Bradley turned to look back out the window, ignoring the plate of eggs in front of him.

“Y/N,” your father said, “can I speak to you in the living room please?”

You nodded, sliding out of the booth seat and following him through the doors into the wider living room.

He turned to you. “I need you to be careful,” he whispered.

You frowned. “Careful about what?”

“That boy,” he replied. “Bradley. He’s deeply troubled. His father, Nick, was a good man. But it seems that Bradley has gone down a rather troubled path.” He paused. “Stay away from him. Promise me, Pumpkin.”

Pumpkin. The nickname your father had called you since you were born. Your parents had wanted a house full of children, running and screaming and creating chaos. And instead, they had gotten only you. And the weight of that sat on your shoulders every day that passed.

“You may see him at meals, but don’t fraternize with the boy,” your father warned. “He’ll only bring you trouble.” He leaned forward, pressing his lips to the top of your head.

“Promise me?”

You nodded. “I promise.”

He smiled. “Good. I’ll see you at dinner.” It didn’t matter that he was retired. Your father always had somewhere to be, no matter what day of the week. He frowned upon sleeping in and relaxing.

“Daddy?” you asked as he turned to leave. “What did he do? Why is he here?”

Your father sighed. “He was in trouble, and needed help. That’s all you need to know.”

“But what did he–”

“Y/N.” His voice was firm. It was his military voice. You knew it well. “Don’t ask questions you don’t need answers to.”

***

The move from California to Texas had been extreme. Your parents were Texas born and raised, and they had taken their ideals and their tendencies with them to California. But growing up in San Diego has been a blessing. You visited cousins and grandparents back in the South during the holidays and the summer, but it wasn’t until your father retired that you had truly understood what it meant to be from Texas.

Your mother never worked. Not a day in her life. She was raised to be someone’s wife, someone’s mother. And that’s why it was such a disappointment that you were her only child to care for. It’s why it was such a disappointment that you hadn’t turned out at all like the daughter they had hoped for.

You wore bikinis all day during the summer and let your hair get bleached by the sun and you read books with sexual themes and you resisted going to bible study youth group and you were not the daughter that they had expected.

So when your father retired and moved the three of you to Texas, your mother signed you up for a debutante ball at the end of the summer. As if spinning around a dated country club ballroom in five layers of taffeta would have the effect of making you a lady, someone they were proud to call their daughter.

“Mother,” you whined when you found out. “I am not doing that.”

“Y/N Sullivan,” she warned and you just knew that your full name rolling off her sharp tongue was never good. “You’re doing this and I’m not going to hear otherwise.”

You turned and rolled your eyes behind her back. And that was how you ended up buying elbow-length gloves for the end-of-summer Ball at the Galveston Artillery Club.

The gloves, and the dress, hung in perpetuity in your walk-in closet. Every morning when you went in to get dressed they taunted you.

August 15 could not come and go soon enough.

***

You didn’t see Bradley again until dinner.

As usual, your mother was nowhere to be seen. You spent the day on the beach, tanning on a towel, reading books with your head ducked beneath a thin linen shirt, letting the Texas sun scorch you until you were so hot you had to run into the water.

By the time you had showered and dressed for dinner, it was closing in on seven. Dinner was always at seven and it always required an outfit change. Other kids had grown up in TV dinner houses or with takeout meals eaten on the couch. You had grown up with a strict dinner time and a dress code.

You smoothed the silky fabric of your slip dress down with your palms, making your way through the living room to the formal dining room.

Once again, it was only you and Bradley. He looked up as you entered. He was wearing a collared shirt, obviously one of your father’s from years past, that was too large on his frame, the orange color highlighting the injuries on his face.

You sat down in your normal chair across from him at the ten-person table. “How’d you get those?” you asked, nodding toward him.

He frowned. “Thought you weren’t supposed to talk to me.”

“Shit,” you whispered. “You heard that?”

Bradley nodded.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “My father can be temperamental.” To say the least.

Bradley shrugged. “Whatever.”

At that moment, your parents entered the room. Your mother’s eyes swept over where you sat across the table from Bradley, a permanent crease between her eyebrows taking hold. “Y/N,” she said softly before turning. “And you must be Bradley.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, head bowed.

Your father grunted and sat down at his normal spot at one end of the table. Your mother took the other end. It feel surreal, like an extremely fucked up Norman Rockwell painting sprung to life.

The entire dinner was consumed in near silence. Just the sound of forks and knives scratching at the china plates that your mother loved so dearly. Your eyes drifted across the table to Bradley, who looked like he was in pain when he chewed. He kept his eyes trained on his plate, only lifting them when he was asked a direct question.

You were sawing through a piece of undercooked asparagus when your mother’s voice slid across your skin. “Have you found a date for the debutante ball yet?”

You put your silver fork and knife down. “Not yet.”

“It’s in less than two months,” your mother replied. “You need to move before all the escorts are snapped up.”

“Maybe I’ll hire a real escort then.”

Her jaw dropped. “Y/N, don’t even tease.”

“Sorry mother.”

“What about the Althans boy? He’s charming.”

“He’s five foot four and smells like pickled onions.”

At the other end of the table, your father snorted. You looked up and smirked. “Daniel!” your mother scolded. “Can you please tell your daughter she’s being a brat.”

“Y/N,” he said, turning to you.

“Yes, daddy?”

“You’re being a brat,” he replied and as you opened your mouth with a retort he added, “and you’re right about the Althans kid. He smells God awful.”

You laughed. “What about Frank Turner’s son? The engineering student.”

You grunted. “Pass.”

Your father sighed. “And what’s wrong with him?”

You didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. That you had been at a bonfire last summer and Ethan Turner had made a pass at you and you had lost your virginity to him on a beach towel in the dunes. It had been awful and ever since you avoided Ethan the best you could. The last thing you wanted was for him to be your escort.

“Fine,” he said, setting down his knife. “You have until the end of July to find a date, Y/N. And then your mother and I choose for you.”

You took a sip of water. “Fine.”

***

You heard him that second night. At first, you thought maybe it was the wind. But when you got out of bed and looked out the large windows facing the water, you saw that the dunes were still. It was just another hot, oppressive June night without a whisper of a breeze.

And then you heard it again. A soft whine. A thrashing. You tiptoed out of bed and creaked open the wooden door, tipping your head out into the hallway. It was coming from the tower room. If you had been a child growing up in the house, the attic in the tower probably would have held some sort of exotic magnetism over you. A forbidden playground. Instead, it exclusively gave off Bertha Mason from Jane Eyre vibes.

The moaning and groaning from behind the door didn’t help. You debated seeing what was wrong. But your father’s words rattled around in your head. So you crept back to bed, sliping a pair of foam earplugs into your ears, drowning out the sounds of the boy upstairs.

You heard it for two more nights before finally you got up the courage to reach out and twist the door handle, gently tugging it open, ascending the wooden stairs up to the tower room.

The staircase tossed you out into the middle of the room, which you saw had been cleared out of holiday decorations. Instead, there was a dresser against one wall, a small reading chair, and a double bed underneath the main window.

On the bed, Bradley was tossing in his sleep violently, the white sheets tangling between his bare legs. You slowly stepped off the top step onto the hardwood floor, and the creaking noise caused Bradley to sit straight up in bed.

You noticed first that he was panting, like he had just been chased down the beach. Second thing you noticed was that he was shirtless, sweat dotting his entire chest, along with scratches of varying hues.

You raised your hands up in a surrender pose. “I heard you fussing,” you said softly. “And wanted to check and make sure you were OK.”

Bradley blinked, hard, shaking his head a few times like he was trying to orient himself. “I’m fine,” he whispered gruffly after a moment.

“I think you were having a nightmare.”

“Is it a nightmare if you have them every night?” he asked quietly. “Or is it just how I dream?”

You frowned, stepping closer. “Every night?”

Bradley looked down at his hands where they were gripping the white sheets but didn’t respond.

“You never told me how you got those scars,” you whispered, pointing to the ones on the side of his face.

“You should go,” he said after a moment.

“Why?”

“Because if they find you in here, they’ll kick me out.”

“Do you care?” you asked. It was a genuine question. All you had seen so far from Bradley Bradsahw was indifference.

Bradley’s eyes landed on yours. You felt the look all the way to your toes. It tingled across your veins. “I have nowhere else to go,” he said quietly. “So yeah, I care. I have to.”

You nodded. “OK, I’ll leave.” You turned to leave, hovering on the top spiral step. “Bradley?”

He hummed.

“Third door on your right,” you replied quietly. “If you need me. Or if you want to talk. That’s my room. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Back in your own bed, you pulled the covers up to your neck, thinking about the raw animalistic terror in Bradley’s eyes the second he woke up. There was something about him that drew you in. Something you couldn’t let go of.

He was as lost as you felt.

***

You had exactly one hundred days until you left for Stanford.

One hundred days of summer. Nothing but the debutante ball looming over you.

You had wanted to get a job, something to do to fill the hours of the day. But your mother was old fashioned. She begged you to get a volunteer position instead. Your father agreed. You capitulated.

“Being well-rounded is good for a girl your age,” he said, sipping on a glass of whiskey as you stood at the large built-in bookshelf in his office.

“I can be well rounded and serve fried clams at Nick’s Kitchen.”

“Over your mother’s dead body,” he laughed and you sighed, choosing a tome off the shelf and bidding him goodnight.

You spent your days languishing on the beach, volunteering at the animal shelter on the other side of the island, reading for your courses in the fall. It was supposed to be a banal summer. Ordinary.

And then Bradley showed up and everything was suddenly, undeniably, altered.

A/N: I had originally considered posting this as one LONG piece, but this felt like a good natural stop for the first part so it will be split into parts, not sure how many (at least three)!

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