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Between Friends

Summary: Bradley and you don’t talk about that Spring Break. But a single question asked during a night out at the Hard Deck might just change things between the two of you forever.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 11K

Warning: smut (including loss of virginity), brief mention of underage drinking, and college!bradley in a backwards hat

(Author's note: Happy Birthday Jordan! I wrote this just for you! Look at me keeping secrets from you! Enjoy!)

𝐍𝐎𝐖

Rooster couldn’t control his bouncing leg.

That night at the Hard Deck had started out like any other: good music, good drinks, good people. Over the course of the evening, he’d found himself seated between you and Bob in a lopsided circle with the rest of the Daggers around a few tall tables that had been pushed together just shooting the shit.

It was all fun and games until swapping stories about embarrassing middle school moments turned into cringing over first kiss stories turned into Seresin grinning like a shark asking about how everyone’s first time went down.

Rooster felt his pulse kick up with every collective laugh and groan as his friends went one by one sharing how they’d lost their virginities. Because with each passing story, it meant that you were one person closer to going. And for the first time in his life- even after over two decades of friendship- he didn’t know what your answer was going to be.

So he is just as shocked as his teammates are when you tentatively reveal, “So, um, my first time was with Rooster.” He doesn’t miss the way all his friends’ heads snap towards him.

All eyes are on the two of you, and you’re pointedly looking anywhere but him.

Rooster had been anxiously waiting to hear the story of your first official time, the one that was with someone who wasn’t him. He didn’t realize that you still considered him your first. He’d figured that part of your history had long been overwritten by whoever had been lucky enough to catch your eye and make your heart race in a romantic way.

The two of you had never talked about it in the after.

Not once, not ever.

He didn’t care that people knew, he just wasn’t expecting it.

Jake starts the group out of its stunned silence by slapping a heavy hand on top of the table, nearly sending some bottles to the floor, “I knew it! I knew y’all couldn’t have been friends all this time and not have tried it out at least once.”

“Jesus Christ, dude, chill,” Javy mutters. He’s always been the better of the two about reading the room.

Trying to spare you from being put on the spot even more than you already were now, Rooster mumbles through the way he’d lost his to a girl from his AP Econ class after a playoff baseball game.

He stares at the way you’re nervously picking at the label of the Blue Moon he’d grabbed for you when he went to get a refill of his own. He can practically hear the way your brain is buzzing. He wonders if you wish you could take back the words from where they are sitting on the table with the collection of bottles and peanut shells for everyone to see.

Bob being the team player that he is starts talking about how he’d lost his one summer in college to another camp counselor, going into more detail than he’s ever given before, probably trying to redirect the attention to himself to give the two of you a moment to regroup.

Rooster makes a mental note to tell Penny to put all of Bob’s cream sodas from now on on his own tab.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do here. Or where to look. Or where to put his hands. He wants to talk to you, but there’s no good way for him to go about it without drawing even more attention to the two of you.

You were supposed to be going on a first date tonight, but he’d talked you into canceling to hang out with him instead. He likes having all of your attention on him. And maybe he’s been a little selfish with you, because he doesn’t like to share you with anyone else. You’ve always been his best friend.

Rooster likes that he gets to talk to you whenever he wants now, and that it doesn’t feel like a never-ending game of catch up anymore. In the year since the Uranium mission, he’d felt like all the fragmented pieces of his life had finally come together. He’d reconnected with Mav, he was living in the same city as his best friend, and he had a place he could finally call home.

He didn’t just want the highlights with you, he wanted everything in between too. There’s no more distance due to time zones and scheduling times to call because now you only live 20 minutes away from him. And the next time he comes home from a deployment, he knows he’ll get to look forward to seeing you there waiting for him.

He feels like he’s learned so much more about the grown-up version of you over the last year than he has in the last ten.

Jake jumps in barely a breath after Bob finishes telling his story. “Well, we all know it’s not the first who matters, but who was the best.” Rooster doesn’t trust the gleam in his eyes or the sharp smile on his face. “Since Bradshaw cut you off before, how’s about you go first this time, darlin’. You can tell us about who knocked your socks off. Maybe this time he’ll let you finish, if you know what I mean.”

It’s thinly veiled snooping disguised as chivalry, and it doesn’t fool anyone. Nat’s eyes dart to him briefly, trying to get a read on him.

He’d been 21 at the time. And while he knows more now that he did then, he also knows his name isn’t going to be coming out of your mouth for a second time tonight.

Rooster takes a sip of his beer, needing something to do.

He knows you’ve been with other people. You’d lived with your ex for over a couple years, for fuck's sake. But it was like an unspoken agreement between the two of you to not talk about your sex lives with each other.

His leg starts bouncing again and he realizes he really doesn’t want to hear this. Not because of his ego, but because he doesn’t know what to do about the knot that’s formed in his stomach.

Your mouth opens and closes a couple times before you speak, “That title would also go to Rooster.” The admission is soft, but sure.

Where his heart had been pounding before, now it feels like it had stopped completely.

It’s been 13 years since that Spring Break. 13 years and he’s still your best?

Barely five minutes ago, he hadn’t known where to look. But now? Now he couldn’t stop staring at you.

He just didn’t understand why you still wouldn’t look at him back.

𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊, 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟎

When you’d floated the idea by Bradley about visiting him at UVA for Spring Break during your weekly phone call, you’d been braced for the disappointment of him already having plans. It was his Senior year, it wouldn’t surprise you if he wanted to go out with a bang and make the most of it. Especially since he would belong to the Navy soon enough.

But he’d taken you by surprise when he started enthusiastically listing off all the places he wanted to show you, planning out your trip like a well-seasoned travel agent before you’d even booked a plane ticket.

You’d started looking up airfare before you’d even hung up the phone. And thirty minutes later you had a confirmation email flagged in your inbox after elatedly charging that aisle seat to the credit card you only used for emergencies.

It had been close to a year since you’d last seen him. He usually spent his Winter Break with your family, but this year he’d stayed on campus for the holidays and it was the longest the two of you had ever been apart since you’d first met him when you were 8.

And maybe that’s why it took you so long to spot him in the Arrivals area of the Charlottesville-Albemarle Airport.

You’ve always prided yourself in being able to pick Bradley out of a crowd anywhere, but in your cursory glance you hadn’t recognized the tall, broad guy with the UVA shirt pulled taut across his chest and wearing a baseball hat backward on his head. It wasn’t until your third searching pass that you’d caught the lips that were quirked up in amusement and those familiar brown eyes trained on you as he leaned ever-so-casually against the faux wood paneling on the wall waiting for you to notice him.

He’d filled out in the months since you’d last seen him. He was more toned than you remembered him being with definition in places where there hadn’t been before. His face had more distinct angles and less baby fat cushioned curves. Still a bit boyish, but he was well on his way to looking like a man.

Bradley raised his hand like he was going to wave, but then he’d mimicked casting a fishing line in your direction and reeling it in. And it was so endearingly stupid- so him- that you couldn’t help but take the bait and made your way towards him with the biggest grin on your face.

You’d ignored the jittery flutter in your stomach as you’d weaved between people and luggage. You’ve never been nervous around your best friend before. There was something that had on your mind a lot as the days to your visit inched closer, but you’d shoved that out of your mind, because you were finally standing in front of him in person for the first time in months.

“Hey, kid,” he’d greeted you, taking your bag, “Charlottesville must have known you were coming, because she’s going to be sunny for you all week.” As soon as you were within arm’s reach, he tugged you right into his chest for a hug. You could feel the unspoken I missed you in the way he squeezed you just that bit tighter before releasing you.

Then he was dropping an arm over your shoulders and steering you towards the exit and driving you into town in the beat-up car he’d bought after selling his prized Montero, the car that Mav had given him for his birthday.

You’re only there for a week and Bradley doesn’t waste a single moment of it.

After dropping your things off in his dorm room, he takes you straight to campus where he gives you the Official Bradley Bradshaw Certified UVA Tour. He buys you lunch from one of the food trucks in the Amphitheater “for sustenance” before taking you to see the highlights. You start with the Rotunda and then the academic village, making a special pitstop at the Whispering Wall for you to tell it a secret. And then he takes you on a more historical tour, like showing you the exact route he used to streak The Lawn and pointing out the place he’d puked after his 21st birthday.

It’s clear he’d put so much thought into your visit because it seems like there is never a down moment. By the end of the third day you’re more surprised that you don't wake up every morning with a printed itinerary on your pillow.

He sneaks you into the Slaughter Rec Center to rock climb, claiming he had a person on the inside with the right connections. But really from what you could tell, the pretty girl at the check-in counter clearly had a crush on him. He takes you to the batting cages he likes to go to before Dead Week, and spends the time there equal parts making fun of your power swing and trying to fix it.

You get your revenge the next day standing outside of the imposing columns and massive doors to the Fralin Art Museum. Skeptically eyeing the sculpture in the front of the building that kind of looked like a giant wisdom tooth, you mentioned, “I didn’t realize you’d become such a patron of the cultural arts.”

“Hey now, I like artsy shit,” he’d said, only mildly affronted.

You snorted at that. “Is there an exhibit on beer pong and blunt rolling you wanted to see?” Through the window you’d spotted some large landscape oil paintings in ornate gilded frames and carved marble busts of what you assumed were probably of some of the Founding Fathers.

“You just missed that one, it was last month,” Bradley lobbed back, opening the door for you.

“What a pity,” you’d said with a dramatic sigh, “Guess we’ll have to settle for some tasteful nudes instead.”

“If we’re lucky,” he’d muttered under his breath, as you passed under his arm.

And then you’d felt the corners of your mouth kick up.

Turning around you’d pressed your finger to his chest, whispering so the person behind the ticket desk didn’t hear you, “Twenty bucks says you don’t make it thirty minutes in there.”

He narrowed his eyes, taking in your sly grin, “You’re on, kid.”

It’s the easiest $20 you’ve ever made.

The two of you call it a truce only after he tips your kayak into the still chilly Rivanna River.

Later that night, he takes you to a party on “Mad Bowl” that one of his frat friends was hosting. The backyard was all strung up with red and green Christmas lights like they had been too lazy to take them down after the holidays and decided it added to the outdoor ambiance instead of packing them away.

He was still just as protective over you as he was back in high school. Spending the whole night keeping an eye on you and handing you drinks that he’d uncapped himself using the opener that he had on his keychain, the one that still had the little fighter jet charm you’d given him ages ago dangling from it.

The days pass all too quickly as he shows you all of his favorite spots.

You knew UVA wasn’t where he’d originally wanted to be- where he thought he’d be- but you were happy that he seemed happy here.

But in between the late-night microwave ramen and movie watching and crossing off all the things on Bradley’s Spring Break To-Do List, there’d been something you’d been wanting to talk to him about. But you were having so much fun with him, you’d missed your best friend over those long months apart, and you didn’t want to ruin the time you had left with him here.

It lingered at the back of your mind like a phantom hair that you can feel, but can’t ever seem to brush off no matter how many times you attempt to. You felt like you were waiting for the right time that you weren’t sure would ever come. And if you were being honest, you weren’t entirely sure you would even be brave enough to ask if the time came.

The two of you had woken up way before the sun this morning.

If anyone other than Bradley had asked you to wake up before 5 AM to go hike to watch the sunrise, you would have laughed at them. But because it was Bradley, you’d set the alarm without comment. Even though he did have to gently pry you out of his roommate’s bed- with the fresh sheets he told you he bought especially for your visit- and lace up your shoes for you.

The views at Humpback Rock had been worth the hour hike up to the outcrop of craggy rocks. The sunrise painted them a stunning shade of soft orange as the rays illuminated evergreen covered hills and valleys that extended in front of you to the skyline. You and Bradley watched it in silence, shoulders pressed against each other as you took it all in.

You’re cozied up on your bed for the week, flipping through a book you’d brought with you, but hadn’t touched at all until now when Bradley comes back from the showers. His hair is still damp and the ends are starting to curl a bit.

He drops a Styrofoam cup of coffee on the nightstand next to you.

You hadn’t been sure what rooming with him would be like, the two of you together 24/7 since his roommate had left to go home for the break. But it felt like you were two kids at sleepaway camp getting away with mischief rather than two broke college students only pretending to get away with mischief.

He sits down at the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his thighs, “So.”

“So?” you repeat, blowing on the hot coffee before taking a sip.

“Are you going to tell me what’s been up with you?”

You wince, and it’s not because the coffee tastes like tar.

“What do you mean?” you try to ask casually.

Bradley gives you a look that says you don’t fool me, kid. “You’ve been squirrely. I didn’t want to press it, but I can tell there’s something on your mind.” He takes a sip of his own milky battery acid. “Are classes going better since you switched majors?”

You nod, looking anywhere else other than at him.

“How are things with your Dad?”

You offer him a shrug.

He sighs your name in exasperation. You can tell he is trying to tamper his frustration at your lack of cooperation.

“Is it a guy?” Bradley tries again.

You swear you feel your heart stop, because you knew what you wanted to ask him, but you didn’t know how he was going to take it.

You fiddle with a string on his roommate’s comforter. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” you admit, tentatively, “But I’m nervous.”

Bradley’s eyebrows pull together as he sets his coffee aside, “C’mon, it’s just me. You can talk to me about anything.”

“It’s more of a question.” One you’re still deflecting from asking.

“Ok, well you know you can ask me anything.” His tiny dorm room feels even smaller as the two of you try to read the other’s face.

Taking a deep breath, you ask the question that’s been rattling around in your brain for weeks.

“Bradley, I was wondering if you’d be my first?”

Less than ten words. That’s all it takes to tilt Bradley’s world off its axis.

He’s loved getting to show you around UVA this week. It wasn’t where he thought he’d end up, but he hadn’t lost sight of where he was going. He was going to be a Naval Aviator one way or another. He just also got to have a normal college experience too, one he’d been excited to share with you.

Bradley had originally been invited to go stay with one of his friends at his family’s beach house, but when you called and asked about coming to visit Charlottesville, it was an easy choice for him. He’d pick you every time.

It had been even better getting to cross off some of the things on the bucket list he’d made for his Senior Year with you in tow, like the hike he’d taken you on this morning.

He loves the views from up there and thought it would be something you’d like too, but he’d never done the hike early enough to catch the sunrise before. It was actually something he was planning on going the morning of graduation as a symbolic way to end his time at UVA, but getting to do it with you was special in its own way.

And while he’d caught you lost in thought more than a few times over the last few days as he showed you around, he never in a million years would have ever expected you to ask him that.

Bradley knows all the words you just used, but they don’t make sense to him in that order.

His brain is working in overdrive trying to figure out if there is any possible way he could have misinterpreted you.

“Your first…”

You take another deep breath and tip your chin up in resolve before looking him dead in the eye, there’s so much vulnerability reflected in them, “I haven’t had sex before, Bradley. And I’m really hoping that my first time can be with you.”

Bradley wants to tell you to put your Styrofoam cup down because he’s worried the tight grip you have on it might crush it, but he feels like the wind has been knocked out of him.

He didn’t realize when his leg started bouncing until he sees you glance down at it.

Shooting to his feet and off his bed, he goes to lean against his recently decluttered desk. There’s too much restless energy coursing through him to just sit like he isn’t completely reeling.

“Shouldn’t you want to do this with someone special? Like with rose petals and all that shit?” He scrubs a hand over his face. Rose petals and all that shit? God, he sounds like such a fucking dumbass, but he’s struggling to keep up.

And if he’s being entirely honest, he’s pretty surprised to learn you’re still a virgin. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but he knows you’ve had at least one serious boyfriend since you’ve gone to college. He figured that you got asked out all the time. He saw the way that some of the guys in his buddy’s frat were looking at the pretty girl with the dimples and big smile.

The girl who just asked him to be her first.

He hates the way your shoulders have slumped forward, like you’re trying not to cave in on yourself, “So, you don’t want to?”

“I didn’t say that.” His answer takes him by surprise.

The only other sound in the room other than his pounding heart is the whir of the air circulating in his dorm.

“Would it help to make a pro con list?” you offer, less than helpfully with a little shrug.

“Jesus Christ,” Bradley mutters under his breath, looking up at the speckled ceiling trying to decode the flecks like tea leaves. “She’s cracking jokes like she didn’t ask me to make her come.”

“Technically, I didn’t say anything about that. I just asked you to be my first.”

“I’m not taking your virginity and not giving you an orgasm,” he states, and your eyes get wide. He runs his hands through his hair. “Sex makes things complicated, kid. We’ve got a good friendship.”

You sit up straighter on his roommate’s bed and bring your knees to your chest. It exposes the backs of your thighs and he has to shake the mental images of skin on skin out of his head.

There’s a look on your face that tells him you feel ridiculous even asking him, “Do you think you’re going to fall in love with me or something?”

“No,” Bradley says, honestly.

He knows you’re just trying to make a point.

The two of you have been friends for over a decade. He knows he cares about you- he always has- but he couldn’t imagine what anything other than just friendship would look like with you.

You nod in agreement, like you had been anticipating the answer before you’d even asked him the question.

“And do you think I’m going to fall in love with you?” you ask, your head tilting to the side.

He doesn’t even blink, “You can do better than me.”

And he means it.

Even if there was something more between the two of you, you’ve always been too good for him. And knowing him, he’d find a way to fuck it up. You’re the last person in the world he’d ever want to hurt. He’d let you down before, he doesn’t want to do it ever again.

You shoot him a disappointed look, like you don’t like hearing him say that about himself. And he’s oddly touched that you’re defending him against himself.

“You’d literally be doing me a favor.”

Bradley is still surprised that he hasn’t ended this conversation yet. The two of you were supposed to go to the movies, but that definitely wasn’t happening now.

“I’m not saying no,” he says, “But I need you to help me understand. Why me? Why now?”

“Bradley, I want it to be with you because there’s no one else I’ll ever feel as comfortable with as I do with you,” you explain.

He watches as you unfold yourself and climb off the bed, coming to stand in front of him. You gingerly reach out and put your hand on his forearm, like you don’t want to startle him. Not that he’d be able to move anyways since it feels like the soles of his feet are cemented to the floor.

“I keep waiting for it to not feel like such a big thing, but every time it seems like it’s going to happen, I freeze. And I know you’d take care of me, and I’m not talking about orgasms.” You stumble over the word a bit, not fully meeting his eyes as you say it. “It’s scary enough as a girl and I’m worried I’m going to be too in my head with anyone else. But I also don’t want to look back and have any regrets, and I know I wouldn’t have any with you.”

The mention of regrets makes his stomach twinge. His heart feels like it’s hammering in his chest. He doesn’t know what to say.

You are looking at him with such open sincerity. He has never been good with talking about his feelings, he’s always been the type to bottle things up, while you have always worn your heart on your sleeve. It was just another way that you were braver than him.

“I know it’s a lot,” you say, letting go of him to take a step back, like you want to give him breathing room, “So if it’s too big of an ask. Or if it’s not something you’re comfortable with-”

Bradley shakes his head cutting you off, “It’s not that at all, kid. I just haven’t done this before.” Your eyebrow scrunches together in confusion. “I mean, I have,” he corrects, “But it’s not the same. All the girls I’ve been with had already had experience. And if we were going to do this, I would want to make sure it’s as nice for you as it can be.”

“So you’d be my first and I’d be yours? Well, kind of.” You give him a little smile, it’s a shy but hopeful thing. There’s only a hint of your dimples, but it’s enough. And he feels that practical part of him that had been holding back soften at the sight of it.

He doesn’t think he’s ever said no to you, excluding the times you tried to get him to give you his beer at the house parties he took you to in high school, and that was more out of self-preservation from a healthy fear of your mom than anything else.

When you wanted to learn how to drive a stick shift? He took you to the abandoned parking lot, it didn’t matter that you didn’t have your learner’s permit yet. When you wanted to learn how to throw a punch? He was making sure you knew not to tuck your thumb under your fingers, so that you didn’t break your own thumb instead of someone’s nose.

He’s always had your back and you’ve had his. That’s how it was between the two of you.

You’ve already said it, but he needs to hear it again, “You really want to do it?”

“I really want it to be you, Bradley. I really want to do this with you. I trust you the most.”

He’s always been willing to help you with anything you’ve ever asked of him, why should this be any different? What’s a couple orgasms between friends?

“Ok,” Bradley nods. If it’s to reassure you or himself, he couldn’t say. “I’ll do it. We can do it.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, like you were fully prepared for him to let you down gently, “Really?”

You didn’t ask for his why he was agreeing, but he was going to give it to you anyway.

“I don’t think I’ve told you this, but I lost mine to Samantha Prescod after the game against Centennial that got us a spot at State that year,” he waits until he sees the recognition cross your face before continuing, “But I had also just learned about my mom’s diagnosis and I was trying to find anything I could do to not think about it.” He rubs at a spot underneath his collarbone, it never got any easier talking about his mom. “I think she assumed that I’d done it before, because we didn’t really talk about it. She was there and into it, so it just sort of happened. Actually, I’m pretty sure she only slept with me because she wanted to make her ex-boyfriend jealous, because they got back together like three days later.”

It’s probably for the best that Samantha Prescod lives on the other side of the country now because you look livid. Your eyes spark with anger and disbelief on his behalf.

“It was years ago, it’s fine, kid” he shrugs, trying to brush off your concern. “But if I had a do-over, I don’t know if I’d make the same choice again. And that’s not something I’d ever want for you.” You deserve the rose petals, but he’ll do his best for you. “So we can do it, but I have one condition.”

The relief on your face and the way the tension in your shoulder releases only solidifies his decision.

“Tell me,” you say, taking a half-step towards him, “I want you to be comfortable too.”

Bradley pushes off his desk and meets you the rest of the way, “If you even think you’re feeling uncomfortable- about any of it- I need you to tell me. And we’ll stop and figure out where to go from there. If it’s a change of position, if it’s a full stop and order pizza instead, we’ll do that.” He pauses and reaches out to tip your chin up. “I’ll do whatever you need, got it?”

You throw your arms around him, and his wrap around you just as easily. Your hair smells like the travel sized shampoo he’d picked up for you, figuring you wouldn’t want to use his 2-in-1. You murmur your thank you into his shirt followed by a fuck Samantha Prescod that makes him squeeze you just a bit tighter to him in affection.

When you step back and look at him, your lips twitch upwards, “What’s with the look, Bradshaw? Don’t tell me you’re going to lie back and think of England?”

That makes him chuckle, your joke lightening the mood in only the way that you can do. He rolls his eyes in equal parts exasperation and fondness.

“God, I haven’t been this nervous since I lost my own virginity. I was so stressed I was going to blow my load in two pumps and lose my street cred.”

You snort and send him a smirk, “Well, you must have done just fine. I overheard some glowing reviews in the girl’s bathroom on more than one occasion.”

“I maybe lasted ten trusts, but I had the good sense to eat her out after,” he admits, and then tacks on for good measure, “I’ve gotten better since then.”

“What a stud,” you tease.

This is easier, this feels like the two of you. This should be fun, it shouldn’t feel serious. He can make it good for you.

You look up at him shyly from under your lashes, “So how do we do this?”

He feels like he only just wrapped his head around the idea of it, but now he was facing the very real possibility of seeing you very naked very soon.

“You want to do it now?” Bradley blinks.

“I mean, if you’re up for it.” You scrunch your nose when you realize you’ve made a terrible double entendre. “No pun intended, I promise.”

He wipes his hands on his pants.

“You sure?” he asks again.

“I’m sure, Bradley. As long as you are too.”

He nods, “Then I guess we just…”

He’s not sure where he was going to go with that. But he’s spared from being roasted by you for making some sure to be lame birthday suit joke because you’re untying the bow on the soft lounge shorts you’d thrown on after your shower from the hike, and all the words get trapped in his throat.

You don’t look at Bradley as you slide your shorts down your legs. And you definitely don’t look at him when you pull your shirt over your head, leaving you in only a soft green mesh bra and your cotton underwear. They’re mismatched, but sex with Bradley wasn’t originally on the Spring Break To-Do List agenda for today.

In fact, you hadn’t even been sure you were going to go through with asking him until he brought up the point that he knew you had something on your mind because you apparently had no poker face.

While it felt like you had a swarm of butterflies whirling in your stomach, you also knew wholeheartedly that this was the right choice for you. Everything he had said had solidified that for you.

You weren’t sure how you were ever going to thank him for this, but you had a lifetime of friendship with Bradley to figure it out.

His room cast in the soft afternoon light, the blinds only partly closed. There are little streaks of gold that line the plaid comforter on his bed. He’d been right, Charlottesville had stayed sunny just for you.

As you climb into it and situate yourself against his pillows, you can help but notice just how much his bed smells like him. It’s not the spicy scent you associated with the High School version of him. The woodsy and warm scent embedded in the threads of his sheets suits this grown up version of him.

You feel equal parts overdressed and underdressed in your bra and underwear. You know the latter are going to come off eventually, so you make a split-second decision to just take them off yourself under his covers. The idea of Bradley helping you to pull them off later seems like it would be too intimate based on the way the thought of it makes your cheeks heat up.

It’s practical, you’re being practical, you think to yourself.

You chance a peek at him and are surprised to see that he hasn’t budged an inch. It’s almost like he is waiting for you to get completely settled before he dares to move a muscle. His eyes are trained on the pile of your clothes on the floor, he looks lost in thought.

“Bradley?”

The sound of your voice seems to kickstart him into action.

He shucks off his shirt in that kind of reckless way that seems to be ingrained in boys and then unbuttons his pants. You’re torn between feeling like you should give him privacy and wanting to watch. What you were expecting is the way he takes the time to pick his clothes up before folding them over the back of the chair at his desk.

Your mouth goes dry as you take in the sight of his body, the diffused light perfectly outlines the shape of him. His broad shoulders are rounded with the muscles he’s gained from whatever exercises the NROTC has been putting him through. Your eyes dip down to his defined chest and over the ridges of his abs. You’ve seen him in swim trunks plenty of times, but seeing the way the muscles of his thick thighs fill out the black boxer briefs he was wearing was entirely new to you.

Bradley approaches you and then pauses as he bends down to collect your pile of clothes on the floor, his hand hesitating only for a second when he reaches for your underwear. He drapes all of your things on top of his on the chair and makes his way back to you.

The gesture makes you melt a little like a soft serve ice cream cone on a summer afternoon.

You lift the corner of the cover for Bradley and he climbs in next to you. You move closer to the wall, trying to make more room for the bulk of him in his small bed, and he shifts in even closer into you until your bodies pressed tight against one another. The curves and angles of the two of you slotting together like pieces of a puzzle.

It feels like the two of you are teetering there on the edge of something. You both know exactly where it’s going, but are unsure of how to make it from Point A to Point B. Both waiting on the other person to make the first move.

He rests his warm hand on your stomach, the muscles there jumping on their own under his touch in anticipation. Your faces are close since you’re sharing his pillow. His brown eyes are searching yours, probably looking for any sign of hesitation that you don’t feel.

“Tell me how you’re feeling.” It’s not a question, but a request.

“Overwhelmed,” you admit, “But in a good way.” He runs his palm lightly up your stomach and back down, soothingly.

“Good, that’s good,” Bradley says, clearing his throat, “You’re supposed to feel a little ‘overwhelmed, but in a good way.’” You feel your lips pull up at his gentle teasing.

He smiles softly at you. His face has always been so familiar to you. The pink from his scars have finally faded, but you wonder when his eyes start crinkling around the corners.

You let go of the comforter to run a finger down the top of his nose, “I don’t know how this has stayed so straight.” He’d been in more than a couple fights in his teen years, including one that had sent him through a sliding glass door.

“Probably the combination of a little luck and the fact that none of those guys could throw a punch,” Bradley smirks. He shifts on his side, propping himself up on an elbow looking down at you, still running his hand along your stomach. “What have you done so far?”

His fingertips circle your bellybutton and your stomach swoops like it’s on the swing carousel ride at the fair.

“Some over the clothes stuff…” you stammer. You’re having trouble focusing because all your attention is on his big hand and how it feels against your oversensitive skin. “And I have a vibrator, but ah…”

You’re so keenly aware of his hand. With every lazy circle he makes, he has you wondering if this is going to be the one where he finally moves his hand lower. That part of you in flutters in expectation because you know it’s coming.

You let out a shaky huff when his fingers trails back up your stomach.

“What is it?” Bradley’s hand stops moving. “What are you thinking?”

“Honestly?” you say, trying not to squirm, “I’m getting really horny and you keep teasing me.”

He presses his lips together like he’s trying not to laugh at your overshare, and there’s amusement in his eyes.

“You know, some people call it foreplay,” he drawls. You’d roll your eyes but his fingertips are by your bellybutton again and you want him to keep going. “You ready for more?” You nod a few times because if he doesn’t touch you soon you might just crawl out of your skin. “Ok, gonna stop ‘teasing’ you now.”

This time his hand doesn’t stop at your bellybutton, it keeps moving down, down.

You stutter over a breath when Bradley’s fingers touch your clit. You feel yourself melt a little further into his mattress. He’s making easy circles, letting you get used to someone’s fingers other than your own on the most sensitive part of you. Your hands are clutching tightly to his comforter, unsure of what else to do with them.

“Spread your legs a little wider for me,” he murmurs. You feel your face heat up. He’d just given you a direction, but it sounds almost indecent coming out of his mouth.

You shift, moving your legs apart further for him, until he secures your left between his own, opening you up even more. You know you’re wet and now he does too. Bradley’s fingers slide easily over you as he increases the pressure on your clit. You can feel the intensity of his gaze on you watching for your reaction as he figures out what you like the most.

It doesn’t take him long to learn your body. You don’t know whether to be impressed with him or embarrassed with yourself at how quickly he’s worked you up.

Your breathing feels so loud in your ears in the quiet room, every breath and sigh is amplified. There’s a certain thrill in not knowing how he’s going to touch you next, your own fingers pale in comparison now.

His warm breath coasts down the side of your neck causing you to shiver at the sensation. It makes goosebumps break out along your arms and your nipples pull taut.

He notices. Of course he notices.

“Are you cold?” His voice is low in your ear.

“No, I-” Oh god, you’re right there. “B-bradley, I’m-” You’ve made yourself orgasm plenty of times, but you’ve never shared that part of yourself with anyone else before. No one knows what you sound like or what you look like when you come. But now, Bradley was going to have the piece of you too. A whine escapes you without your permission.

“It’s ok, kid, I’ve got you.”

You’re seeking and searching, but it’s Bradley’s fingers that have the answer.

And you come with your stomach twitching and hips jerking as he murmurs praise in your ear.

His fingers slow down, featherlight on your clit, but your heart is still racing when he rasps, “There’s one, you up for another?”

Bradley loves that moment during sex when he hears that first gasp or moan. He loves learning what sounds of satisfaction he can pull from his partner. He loves knowing he earned it. But he never in his life could have ever anticipated hearing those sounds from you.

In his bed. Because of him.

He didn’t expect the lick of heat that curled up his spine at the shape of your legs and the curve of your ass as you were stepping out of your shorts. He’d never seen anything so strangely endearing as it was watching you shimmy your underwear off under the shield of his covers.

Every hitch in your breath made his blood run hotter in his veins. He was trying to control his cock, but he’d started getting hard the second you’d pulled your shirt off. Your bra was some kind of sheer thing that left nothing to the imagination, and while he wasn’t trying to check you out- because that’s not how it was between the two of you- he couldn’t help the way his eyes flickered down.

You’re slippery, wet, and warm. And he knows he can make you come again.

“Do you want me to use my fingers now?”

You crack an eye open at him, it’s the first time you’ve opened your eyes since he first touched you. Your eyes are bright in that way that only comes with an orgasm. “I thought you already were.”

“Such a smartass,” he grins.

Bradley changes the unhurried circles he’d been making on your clit to the upstroke that made your hips jerk up into his hand the first time he’d tried it. The little noises you’re making have him fighting the urge to grind himself against you for some relief of his own. He’s still got your knee tucked between his own; where there had been a hint of polite space between your bodies, the way you’re writhing now has him pressed up against your hip.

You gasp, breathily, “Oh, you’re hard.” The disbelief is evident in your voice, but it’s the look in your eyes that he doesn’t know what to make of, something like surprise.

He’s been trying to be a gentleman, this is about you and not him. There might not be anything romantic happening between the two of you, but this was hot and he was more than a little turned on. And he knows you are too because he can feel how wet you are under his fingers.

“’Course I am,” Bradley says, nudging his nose against your temple, “I’ve got a pretty girl in my bed half naked.” He didn’t want you to feel like you were in this on your own, so he lightly rocks against you. He wants you to feel him, he wants you to know he is into this too. “Are you ready more?”

“I’m ready, I want more,” you confirm, wrapping your hand around his bicep.

Your breath hitches as he teases you with just the tip of his finger.

He’s been told before he has big hands and thick fingers, he’s always taken it as a compliment in the past, but now he’s scanning your face for any trace of discomfort as he sinks one into you.

Your eyebrows twitch then smooth out and your mouth drops open as he starts pumping his finger into you in a smooth rhythm.

“That feels nice,” you sigh, airily.

He knows you like it when your hips tip up just a fraction. His comforter is bunched around your waist and your nipples are peaked against the see-through fabric of your bra. He gets his thumb on your clit and you whimper as you tentatively roll your hips against his fingers.

Bradley hums his approval, “Atta girl. There you go, find what feels good for you.” His voice sounds low even to his own ears, a throaty rumble. He feels you clench around his fingers and it sets his pulse racing. It’s a piece of information he tucks away for himself.

He’s gentle on your clit, but now that he knows you’re into it he’s setting a more purposeful pace with his fingers.

You’ve got your bottom lip pinned between your teeth, like you’re trying to swallow down your sounds. He didn’t realize how much he liked hearing these new sounds from you until you started trying to muffle them. On the next slide of his finger into you, he knows exactly what he’s looking for.

You suck in a sharp breath of surprise when he finds it.

“Is that the right spot, kid?” He sounds so smug. You curse and your hand clutches at his shoulder. “You want to try a second finger?” he murmurs into your ear.

“Yes,” you rock into his hand, “Yes, please.”

“Whatever you want, Miss Manners.” His chest feels like he’s taken a shot of Fireball. “You’re so polite when you’re trying to get your way.”

“I’m always polite,” you challenged weakly, pressing your head further into his pillow.

“Mhm,” he indulges, fondly, “You’re the sweetest girl I know.”

And then he fills you with two fingers.

“Jesus, Bradley,” you gasp, offering more of yourself to him.

Your nails dig into the muscle of his shoulder as he lets your whimpers and whines guide his hands.

The two of you have your eyes fixed on the way the tendons of the visible part of his forearm are flexing before it disappears under the covers as he works you.

Bradley curls his fingers into that spongy part of you and your hand flies to his wrist, gripping him tight. It makes him pause, worried that he might have pushed you too far too fast.

“No, no. D-don’t stop,” you plead, desperately, “I’m so close. Keep going, please.” You squeeze his wrist encouragingly.

“Sorry, sorry,” he soothes. He focuses his efforts on that spot again now that he knows you weren’t wanting him to slow down, but rather trying to hold him in place. His fingers inside of you and his thumb on your clit working in tandem to get you there again.

“I just- yes. Like that. Oh fuck. Keep doing that. Oh my god. Please, Bradley.”

He’s heard you say his name a lot of different ways, but never like this.

Your back arches and you twist yourself towards him, burying your face against him and keening into the hollow of his throat as you come around his fingers.

You jerk and writhe into his hand, your knee slips free of his and your thighs clamp together around him. Bradley rolls off the arm he’d been leaning on and brings it to cradle the back of your head, pulling you closer and holding you to him as he steadily works you through it until you’re loose-limbed in his arms.

He waits until your rapid pants have evened out before he slips his fingers from you. The displeased sound that you make makes the corners of his mouth twitch. He should have known you’d be bossy. He rubs gentle circles into the divots at the base of your neck as you come down.

Bradley can feel your lips graze the side of his neck when you finally speak, “So, um, let me know if you need a letter of recommendation or anything. I’d be happy to pass one along to your next partner.” You languidly prop yourself up on his chest and he notes with pride that you look a little flushed. “But, seriously, I get it now.”

He huffs a laugh as he toys with the end of your hair, “I’m glad it lived up to the hype. Well, at least that part of it.”

You press your lips together like you’re deciding something, tracing idle shapes on his stomach, and he can’t decide if he thinks you’re doing it without realizing it or if you’re the one doing the teasing this time. Your eyes flick down to his visibly hard cock and he feels his face heat up, “Can I?”

“Do you want to?” Bradley wants this experience to be everything you need and want it to be, but something about the tables turning here and the idea of you being the one to touch him like that makes his heart pound.

“I want to make you feel good too,” you softly tell him, resting your chin on your shoulder. The tender way you’re looking at him makes his teeth ache.

“Ok, but only for a little bit,” he agrees. Bradley knows he’s walking a tightrope with this, he’s aching and more than ready to be touched, but he doesn’t want to come all over your hand.

He plants his feet into his mattress and lifts his hips enough to pull off his boxer briefs, sighing in relief as his cock bobs free.

“That can’t be average,” you mutter under your breath.

He doesn’t know if you meant to have said it out loud but he smirks all the same, “I’ve never been average a day in my life, kid, Grade A student here.”

A groan slips out of him as your tentative fingers grasp his cock. There’s a lack of finesse in the way you touch him, your hand isn’t nearly as well-practiced as his own. He wraps his hand over yours, guiding your strokes as he shows you just what he likes.

“You can grip it a little firmer,” he coaches. You nod studiously, like you’re going to be tested on it later. Together the two of you work him from root to tip.

Bradley had never given much thought to his size until now. He knew he was big, but seeing that your thumb couldn’t reach the tips of your fingers when your hand was curved around him was an ego boost he didn’t know he needed.

You get more confident with every glide up and down the length of him. Your tricky thumb sweeps over the tip, collecting what precum had gathered there, and it makes your hand slide easier over him. When he accidentally thrusts into your hand, you grin and there are those dimples again.

“Ok, ok,” he blows out a shaky breath, stilling your hand with his. “We gotta stop or I’m going to come. And I’m not about to be a one pump chump.”

“It sounded like you’re more of a ten pump chump, if I remember correctly,” you tease, looking all too pleased with yourself. “Don’t worry, Bradshaw, your street cred is safe with me.”

He shakes his head in amused disbelief, “You’re such a goddamn menace. I knew I shouldn’t have told you that part.” He surprises the both of you when he wraps an arm around you and rolls to pin you under him.

And it’s like all the air is sucked out of the room because your thighs are cradling his hips and his cock is resting heavy on your stomach.

Neither one of you dare to move. He’d give anything to know what you’re thinking right now, he feels out of his depth as he watches you watching him.

His tongue feels thick in his mouth, “Are you on-”

You nod before he even finishes the question.

“Do you have-”

He nods before you finish yours.

“What did you promise me?” he prompts, squeezing the dip of your waist.

You hold up your pinky to him, “I’ll tell you.” He wraps his own crooked one around yours and gives it a shake.

Bradley doesn’t know what comes over him, but he drops a kiss to your shoulder as he reaches over you into the drawer of his nightstand to fish out what he needs. He’s thankful when you don’t comment on it because he wouldn’t even know how to explain it.

He leans back on his knees and rolls the condom on with practiced ease, then flicks open the cap to the bottle of lube he’s also grabbed and drizzles it over his cock.

“Am I not…” you trail off. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you sound this shy with him before.

“You’re plenty wet,” he assures you, pumping himself- once, twice- just enough to coat himself, “But this’ll be good too. I think you’ll like it.”

Bradley settles back over you, one arm braced by your head and the other on your hip, as your hands come up to rest lightly on either side of his ribcage. He rocks against you to demonstrate; the head of his cock nudges your clit with each silky pass. You exhale heavily at the sensation as he eases you into the motion of it, as he shows you what it’s like with another person.

You’re holding him close, and in just a moment the two of you will be the closest two people can be.

He makes only enough room to reach down between your bodies, only looks away from your face long enough to line himself up with you. There is such trust in your eyes as you gaze up at him, it’s not something Bradley takes for granted.

You nod, your fingers stroking his sides.

God, does he want this to be good for you.

He takes a breath.

And then he’s shifting forward and pressing in.

Bradley thrusts into you with all the careful gentleness you’d expect from him.

His thumb skimming along your forehead as he pushes in, in, in.

When he found that spot inside of you with his fingers, you thought you were going to fly away from the intensity of it, but then he’d pulled you into the safety of his arms and you felt like you could fall apart because he’d be keeping the pieces of you together.

He’s been so good to you. He is so good to you. He’s the best person you know.

The more of him he gives you, the less you feel like you can catch your breath.

You feel hot, hot all over. And much fuller than you’ve ever been.

Some sound must make its way out of you because Bradley offers you a low soothing noise before you feel his lightly chapped lips against your temple.

There’s something about this that reminds you of the time he tried to teach you how to skateboard. Always waited until you told him you were ready, until you found your balance. He’d held your hand as you cautiously rolled along the sidewalk, you were less worried about falling with him by your side. Only this time, his hand is on your waist and the only movements are his hips against yours as he rocks into you.

Little by little. Inch by inch.

You clutch at his biceps at the slight stinging sensation and you feel him hesitate.

“It’s just a lot,” you whisper. His fingers flex on your waist.

“You’re doing so good, just a bit more,” Bradley murmurs, encouragingly.

There’s pressure, there’s a give, and then there’s relief when his hips finally, finally meet yours.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath.

Your eyes had flickered shut somewhere along the way. You open them to see that Bradley’s face and chest are flushed pink, the muscle of his jaw flexing. The furrow between his eyebrows is so deep that you release your grip on him to smooth out the lines with an unsteady fingertip.

He reads the question in your eyes.

“You’re just really tight,” he grits out, voice strained.

You assumed that was a good thing, but he’s holding himself so tense above you that now you’re not sure. “Do I-,” you fumble over the words, “Does this feel good for you?”

He huffs an incredulous laugh, and brushes back some hair from off your face, “You feel really fucking good, sweet-”

Your whimper cuts him off when he pulls out a fraction and then pushes back in.

His brown eyes take you in as he does it again, more this time. Pulling out just a bit- just enough- and then filling you again. The discomfort fading more with each thrust as he guides his hips to yours until yours are tilting up to meet his seeking more.

It’s a conversation between your bodies, the give and the take of it all as Bradley introduces you to this new unspoken language. You feel yourself flutter around his cock, stretched wider than you’ve ever been.

You feel that heat spreading underneath your skin again as he surely and steadily pumps into you. It feels like your nerves are on fire. You didn’t expect to even come once and you’re well on your way to a third.

He reaches down and hooks your leg over his hip. His hand slides up along the outside of your thigh and under your ass, tilting your hips up towards his even more. He’s so much deeper like this. Your hands slide into his hair, tugging at his curls.

“Bradley, I-I think… I feel-”

“You’re gonna come,” he rasps, nodding at you. Encouraging, coaxing.

He grinds his pelvis against your clit with every deliciously slow roll into you.

Your mouth drops open at the feel of it, it’s better than anything you’ve ever imagined. You don’t think your faces have ever been closer than they are now. Bradley is breathing your air, and you’re breathing his. Bradley’s pupils are blown wide, his heavy-lidded eyes are locked on yours. You didn’t know there could be so many shades of brown. His curls are a mess and it’s all because of you. He licks his lips and your breath catches in your throat when his eyes dart down to your parted mouth.

His next thrust into you hits that spot inside of you just so right that it has you gasping.

It’s so good, it’s too good, it’s overwhelming.

You wrap your arms around his neck clinging to him, your face buried against him. Bradley drops his head to your shoulder, you feel his lips brush against your clavicle. Your head moves away on instinct, making more room for him if he wants to do it again.

You get lost in the feeling of his cock hitting you in all the places you’ve heard about and read about, but have never felt for yourself until now. He’s still got your ass gripped in his hand, whereas your hands can’t stay in one spot. They’re tangled in his hair, running over his shoulders and down his abs, gliding over his back aided by the sheen of sweat he’s worked up.

You’re not trying to hold yourself back, but it feels like you’re standing on the tallest diving board at the pool, your toes curled around the edge, but still too nervous about the drop to jump.

“C’mon, kid. You’re right there,” he breathes hard, “I need you to come for me. Just one more.”

He gets his fingers back on your clit and it’s the end of you. Your back is arching so much you think you might snap. Your toes curl so tights they may never unfurl. The force your orgasm overtakes you, demanding everything you have up to offer and then some.

You hear Bradley’s moan as you pulse around his cock, trembling under him as the waves of pleasure wash over you. His hips stutter against yours, finally losing that steady rhythm he’d set, you pull him tighter to you and it’s not long until he comes too.

It’s all white noise. All you can feel is your heartbeat pounding, until little pieces of the world come back into focus.

The hum of the fan.

The beam of warm afternoon light through the blinds.

The smell of the now cold coffee on his nightstand.

In the after, you’re all too aware of every place your body is touching Bradley’s.

He’d somehow managed to roll on his back and had taken you with him. He was literally just inside of you, but yet it feels like your leg draped over his thigh is somehow more intimate. A prickly self-conscious feeling settles over you. Unsure of what the rules were for friends who just had sex, you attempt to peel yourself off of him, but the heavy arm over your waist keeps you in place.

“Come back here, kid,” Bradley mumbles, his eyes still closed, “I need to cuddle after I come, so I’m gonna need you to indulge me here for a moment.” He strokes a soothing hand down your back. And while he says it’s for him, you know he’s still trying to take care of you.

He hums when you lay back down. You set a hand on his chest. He reaches for it with his free one and threads your fingers together. It makes you melt further into him.

You feel a little different. But mostly, you feel like a weight you didn’t know you’d been carrying had been lifted off of you.

Your first time was everything you hoped it would be. You were safe and cared for, and you already knew, you’d never have any regrets about it. And it was all because of him.

“Thank you, Bradley,” you say, softly.

“Anything for you, kid.”

Your early morning catches up with you as you lay there, warm and secure. Your eyelids get heavier with each pass of Bradley’s hand along your spine. And you drift off to the sound of his heartbeat under your ear.

You’re still you. And Bradley is still Bradley.

It was just… something between friends.

A few hours later the two of you are still in his bed.

Only now you’re clothed and swapping the cartons of Chinese food that he’d ordered while you’d napped against his chest, and fighting over the fortune cookies watching some reruns of old sitcoms. You couldn’t hear their laugh tracks over your own.

The last couple of days you had at UVA fly by just as quickly.

You don’t know how, but the two of you managed to cross of all the things on his Spring Break To-Do List. And before you knew it you were back at the airport.

Bradley had insisted on walking you in, wanting to see you off.

Neither one of you has ever been good with goodbyes. So you don’t give him one, instead you reach for your bag and tell him, “Ok, see you in June.”

Bradley doesn’t let go, clearly confused, “What the hell are you talking about?”

You grin because it feels like a checkmate.

“You didn’t think you’d be getting that diploma all by yourself, did you?”

He looks thunderstruck.

You and your mom already had the plane tickets and hotel room booked. Your stepdad wouldn’t be able to come, but he was planning on sending your mom with one of the cakes from his family’s bakery. You’d been tasked with finding out what flavor, carrot cake or peanut butter- Bradley’s two favorites- but you could iron out the details with him later.

You’d had a busy week, plus it was more fun this way.

Bradley tugs you into his arms, yours wrap around him just as easily as they always have.

“June?” he asks into the crown of your head.

“June,” you promise.

And when he lets you go- for real this time- it’s with a smile that takes up his whole face.

He doesn’t say goodbye either, “Be good, kid. See you in June.”

𝐍𝐎𝐖

You avoid Rooster for the rest of the night.

And Jake too, for that matter. Bless Javy for finding ways to distract him because you could tell than man was chomping at the bit for more details. But you’d already given him more than enough.

You could have lied, you probably should have lied. It might have been easier than feeling like you’d hung up part of yourself on the drying line for everyone to see. But in that moment, the thought of lying and saying anyone else’s name other than Rooster’s had made your stomach turn.

Because it was the truth, he was your first, but he was also your best.

When you come out of the bathroom, there’s no missing Rooster. He’s leaning against the wall by the entrance. It takes him a moment to notice you since he looks lost in thought, but when he does you feel pinned to the wall by the intense look in his eyes.

He stands to his full height as you approach, you know he wants to talk about it.

You shake your head at him, “We don’t need to do this.”

“No, kid, we really do.” He takes you by the arm and leads you to a quieter spot away from everyone else.

“It was just a game,” you start before he can, “And now I know more about everyone’s sex life than I ever wanted to.” He crosses his arms over his chest at your attempt at deflection. “Look, I’m really sorry if that was something you wanted to keep a secret or just between us. I should have asked you first if that was ok to share.”

“I don’t care about that.” Rooster waves you off and takes a step closer to you, his eyes searching yours. “All this time and I’m the best you’ve ever had?”

“Are we really doing this? Here and now?”

You peer around him to look and see if anyone is watching the two of you, it feels like a showdown. But all the Daggers are occupied, probably on purpose. You’ve never seen Mickey with such a serious look of concentration on his face.

“Here and now,” he confirms.

You feel flustered, “Rooster, it’s been 12 years and we haven’t talked about it once-”

“Bradley,” he cuts you off. He takes another step towards you, so you’re toe to toe with him. “I’ve always been Bradley to you.”

The tension that had crept up in your shoulders releases a bit.

“Bradley,” you say, softly. “Listen, I’ve had a lot of good sex since then. Great sex even.” He presses his lips together and nods. “And with other men, if I felt like they weren’t putting in their best effort I’d kick them out because the bar was set very high early on.”

You see him fight back a smirk.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, with pride.

Your breath gets caught in your throat, you know he hears it because his eyes take on a richer shade of brown. You both feel the shift, tension churning between the two of you.

Taking a deep breath, you continue, “But I was telling the truth when I said you were my best. Probably because of the way you made sure I knew that you cared. I don’t know how to describe it. It was just different with you.”

You feel his finger graze the back of your hand.

The sounds of the Hard Deck fade into the background as you stare at each other. Entire conversations are being had as you look into his eyes and he looks into yours. Words and sentences spoken with glances.

Just friends don’t look at each other like this.

“It’s never been like this,” you whisper, “We’ve never been like this before.” You gesture at how close he is to you.

How he’s almost got you backed up against a wall.

How he’s looking at you like you’re his.

“I know.”

He says your name and your heart somersaults in your chest.

“I want to see your tattoo. I keep finding myself looking for it when we’re all at the beach. And then I get annoyed, knowing that people have seen it and I haven’t.”

“My tattoo? Bradley, what-”

“I want to see your tattoo,” he repeats like it’s a fact. “And I want to punch Seresin in his smug face every time he flirts with you.”

You roll your eyes, “Jake doesn’t flirt with me, not really. He just likes riling you up.”

“What if I said I wanted to try this as more than friends.” Bradley settles a large hand on your hip. “What if I said that since you’ve moved here I’ve had a hard time keeping my head on straight.”

“Bradley.” His name falls out of your mouth so easily now that it can.

“I want to take you home with me. I want to kiss you. I want to make you come. I need to know if you sound the same in my bed. And then I want to take you out for breakfast and buy whatever fancy coffee you want and as many pancakes as you can eat.”

You’ve been told that you wear your heart on your sleeve, but he has always worn his on his face. There’s no mistaking the open want on his face.

“Bradley, it’ll be different this time.” For so many reasons.

Because it’s not a favor being asked. It’s not some new experience being tried with the person you trust the most, with everything. You’d be on equal footing. It wouldn’t be a friend helping a friend, the two of you would be crossing that line between friends and more because you want each other in that way.

“I want it to be different, sweet girl,” he says, cupping your face in his familiar hand, “I’m ready for it to be different, if you are.”

He looks from your eyes down to your parted lips.

“We didn’t do that last time,” you whisper. Feeling brave, you reach out and run your fingers along the buttons of his shirt.

“No, we didn’t,” he agrees. His eyes are trained on his thumb as he skims it under your lip. “And that’s a damn shame.”

Bradley’s face is all you can see. Warm eyes, a still-straight nose, and a soft smile that is for you and you alone.

He dips down and your eyes flutter closed, your head tipping up on its own in anticipation.

His lips brush your cheek. It’s not enough.

You tug on his collar, but he chuckles and kisses your cheek again, lingering longer this time.

“I’m not kissing you for the first time around the corner from a bathroom,” he rasps.

You open your eyes and see the amusement in his. He always did like teasing you.

“Oh, where do you plan on doing it then?”

“Outside your front door, like a gentleman,” he says, like it’s obvious.

You can’t help but grin because Bradley Bradshaw can’t wait the extra 10 minutes it would take to drive to his place instead of yours. He wants that kiss just as badly as you do. You watch as a matching smile to yours blooms across his face.

It feels normal to slide your fingers between his much larger ones. It feels right as you lead the way out of the Hard Deck with him only a step behind you.

As it turns out, he only makes it as far as the Bronco before he’s spinning you back towards him and pressing you against it. His hands are on your hips and yours are wrapped around his neck as he kisses you for the very first time.

Bradley kisses you like a man who knows what he wants. And what he wants is you.

It’s not tentative in the way that first kisses usually are.

He kisses you like he knows you.

Because he does.

Later, when he closes the door to the Bronco for you, it feels like the end of one thing. But as he slips his fingers into yours when he backs out of the parking space it feels like the beginning of something new.

That night tangled in Bradley’s sheets- he’d kissed you at every light which made those extra 10 minutes it took to get to his home worth it- he makes your back arch and your toes curl as he makes you come with his fingers and mouth and tongue and cock. His lips dropping kiss after kiss on every part of you that he can reach. Because he can, because you want him and he wants you.

The way he touches you tells you that he remembers it all.

He was you first, but what you wouldn’t learn until later, is that he would also be your last.

And he’d be the only man to ever have your entire heart.

Happy Birthday Jordan! An AU just for you! 💖 I adore you and I hope this year is the best one yet!

A big thank you to @callsignspark and @ofstoriesandstardust for their help and beta reading and their woogirling! I appreciate you two so much!

Author's Note: this was a "what-if" AU set in the 'Like I Can' universe! If you want to read about what really happens you can read it here!

You can read more of my stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#i am once again reblogging this #dont mind me #just go about your day #urgh... i love this fic so much #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #that gay pilot movie

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hornyfandomrambles · 2 days ago

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PROMPT TWENTYTHREE - "Stockings"

23 December 2024

(This one is dedicated especially to @jayjay-thejet-plane and @yeagrave for being incredibly supportive as I fumbled my way back into doing art on the regular.)

“Jake!”

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure you ordered the right size? It feels a little… tight?”

Jake’s mouth goes dry, Bradley is standing there, white stockings coming to mid-thigh, and his legs were fucking drool worthy before they were encased in lace and sheer silk. Then there are the briefs and flimsy babydoll in matching red, making Bradley’s skin look smooth and perfect. Bradley clearly doesn’t think so, he’s pulling at the babydoll, pulling it more open and frowning down at where the sweetheart neckline curves over his pecs, accentuating them beautifully. Jake wants to mark him up and wreck him, while at the same time the urge to wrap him up, coddle and protect him is just as fierce.

“Jesus you’re gorgeous.”

Bradley looks up to meet his gaze and Jake pushes himself up from the sofa, needs to be touching him, lets his hands brush over all the bare skin on display, the sheer flimsy fabric of the babydoll no obstruction to his wandering hands.

“Yeah, I picked the perfect size for you sweetheart.”

(Don't open this at the dinner table... Or do. You're the master/mistress of your own destiny.)

#*giggles maniacally*#happy fucking christmas to me #oh my god #this is not something that i knew i needed #jake is going to have to fight me if he wants a piece of this #(im loosing that fight in .2 seconds and i dont even care)

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hornyfandomrambles · 2 days ago

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I would like to add onto this

To the anon that sent this ask:

May the other side of your pillow always be warm

May you catch every bug that goes around

May you always burn your tounge on your coffee/tea

May you always miss a photo opportunity

May you step in a puddle with socks on

May all your YouTube ads be unskippable

May everything you eat have the wrong amount of salt

May all your indoor plants die

May you always hit a red light

May you lose your keys before work

sounds like you (and your husband) need AA. i can’t believe you’d drink at all after he almost killed himsef while drunk driving.

I didn’t realize having ONE drink at home makes me an alcoholic. Before tonight, I think the last time I drank was over a month ago when I had one beer.

Also, fuck you. My husband was not drunk the night of his accident. He’s not a big drinker to begin with and especially if he has to drive. According to the friends he was with, he had 3 beers earlier in the evening, several hours before driving. His blood alcohol level was 0-it was completely out of his system at the time of the accident.

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hornyfandomrambles · 3 days ago

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OK so I'm so late to this (thank you timezones)

But I come from Australia. And down here we have a phrase that I think applies very well here: "no way, get fucked, fucked off"

What in the actual fuck is wrong with you (anon) how can you see a family that is FINALLY starting to recover from a horrible accident and decide that that's the best time to blame them?

And to you MM, there's something deeply, truly wrong with some people. Take a break from the internet if you need it, but know that we've (your moots) have your back

sounds like you (and your husband) need AA. i can’t believe you’d drink at all after he almost killed himsef while drunk driving.

I didn’t realize having ONE drink at home makes me an alcoholic. Before tonight, I think the last time I drank was over a month ago when I had one beer.

#urgh #im actually shaking a little bit #thats how angry this makes me #this is up there with the ed baiting anon #i swear some of these people are gonna catch some hands #fuck people

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hornyfandomrambles · 4 days ago

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Prompt TWELVE - “Secret Santa"

12th December 2024 (EXPLICIT)

Especially for @phisworld14 who is amazingly supportive of so many people's works, leaving comments and also letting me ramble at them all hours of the day and night. Thanks for being an amazing enabler. 💛💛💛

--- --- ---

“No! Everyone is opening their presents at the same time! None of this one-by-one bullshit!” Halo orders, and none of them are going to argue with her. Natasha is nodding along; Bradley knows she hates being the centre of attention; having to paste on a happy and pleased smile about whatever gift she’s received. Which won’t be a problem this year, but she doesn’t know that. He knows she’ll like what she’s getting because he’d been allocated her name randomly, infinitely relieved that it was her he’d be buying for, and not someone he doesn’t know quite as well. Although they’ve been a squadron together now for nearly a year, so he thinks he’d do okay regardless.

Once Halo has handed everyone’s gifts out, they all wait for her to give a nod, that they’re allowed, then there’s nothing but the sound of ripping paper and happy exclamations. Bradley opens his and at first he thinks it’s a joke. A bit of a cruel joke, because chocolate and lube… Yes. He’s well aware he’s fucking single, thank you very fucking much secret Santa. He doesn’t need it rubbed in. He sighs, because he’s not going to be a bad sport, or sour. It’s still a gift, and maybe it’ll be funny. One day.

“What’d you get Rooster?” Fanboy calls out, holding something in his hands which looks like a toy to Bradley but knows it’s likely something Fanboy will no doubt love.

“Uh. Some chocolate and some lube…”

The raucous laughter is to be expected, as are the rude hand gestures, everyone saying aloud exactly what he’d thought in the privacy of his own mind. Sort of.

“Got yourself a wild night there Bradshaw…” Hangman says, smirking at him, eyes glinting with amusement. “You going to share?”

“Nope. Going to go home and have the night all to myself… Eat as many of these as I want.”

Hangman snorts and walks off, shaking his head. Then Natasha is sidling up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning into him, her head resting on his shoulder. He reaches an arm to hug her back, kisses the air near her head.

“Thank you…”

“You’re welcome. Thought you could do with a treat.”

“Not under twenty bucks though.”

“Nope. Don’t care. You need it.”

“Yeah. I do. Thanks…” Natasha says again, voice quiet. He knows she doesn’t like talking to him about it, but his own mom has been gone for twenty years now, he can help his best friend through her own grief process. Then she jerks her head toward the box of chocolates. “Going to share with me?”

“Maybe. I’ll think about it.”

… … …

He gets home and places the box of chocolate on the side table, frowning when it refuses to lie flat. He picks it up and turns it over.

Huh. There’s a little remote taped to the bottom of the box and he tugs it off and turns it over between his fingers. It’s small and white, simple, with just three buttons. Power, then a plus and minus. No directional controls, unless there’s a gyroscope inside, which isn’t impossible, but is unlikely. What the fuck is it for?

Something that can be turned on and off, and go up and down. He thinks back to the rec room where Halo had insisted they meet to exchange gifts. Thinks about what had been in the room. There had been a heater, as well as a fan, and an air conditioning unit. All of which seems bit of an overkill for one room, although he suspects it’s because the air conditioning unit has never worked in living memory.

Hmm. Maybe someone fixed it?

He presses the power button, not sure what he expects to happen in his own house. Of course nothing happens and he slides it into his pocket, determined to figure it out. Then he eyes up the box of chocolates and yeah, he’s totally having one. He’s not a massive fan of chocolate, doesn’t have that much of a sweet tooth, had been all talk when he’d said he wouldn’t share it with Natasha. He grabs a knife and slices through the little gold seal, eyebrow going up, because fancy.

He opens the box and the intense chocolate smell hits him, dark and bittersweet. While he might not have a massive sweet tooth he can appreciate good chocolate, and there are dozens in the box, and each one is exquisitely made and he grabs the lids, looks at the different flavours. Coconut butterflies. Hazelnut caramel hearts. Strawberry roses. Honey beehives. Dulce de leche cups. Pistachio praline eggs. Irish cream petals. Cherry cups.

Decision made he finds a cherry cup, 70% bittersweet and pops it into his mouth and just lets it sit. Soon enough the heat from his mouth has the chocolate melting and the sharp tang of the cherry liqueur spills over his tongue, mixing with the earthy-sweet creaminess of the chocolate. It’s good. So fucking good. He doesn’t think he’s ever going to want any other chocolate but this, and he pulls out his phone, needing to search and find out where he can get more of these in the future. Fuck. Maybe he won’t be sharing with Natasha after all if they’re all this good.

Then he finds them.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Who spends $80 on a box of chocolates?

… … …

He can’t resist having another, but two is his limit, especially knowing that each chocolate is apparently worth over two dollars. His mind is still boggling, and he has no idea who would spend that much money on what is meant to be a secret Santa gift exchange. One with a twenty-dollar limit. And there wasn’t just the chocolate, but there is also the lube and then the little mysterious remote. And it’s from one of the Daggers. He knows that much. It doesn’t seem like anywhere near a joke anymore, instead it feels like something he needs to figure out, a puzzle to solve. That’s fine, they’re meeting up at the Hard Deck tomorrow night, he can do some research tomorrow and then some reconnaissance.

… … …

His research has been… enlightening.

He runs his finger over the slightly raised buttons, the remote carefully tucked away from sight in his pocket. If anyone spies it and knows what it is then it’s definitely going to be a case of takes one to know one., devil's sacrament etc etc.

If he’s right, it’s a remote to a sex toy.

Someone gave him chocolate, lube, and a remote control for a sex toy.

That’s a hell of a message to send.

Hell of a gift.

He has his suspicions of course, and maybe quiet hope. He can rule out Natasha, she would never. Not and be able to keep a straight face anyway. Bob and Halo have been doing a delicate back and forth, dancing around each other, everyone knowing it’s just a matter of time. He knows Fritz, Harvard and Fanboy are all married and have kids, which makes him bump them off the list, pretty sure none of them would have any motivation to give him this particular type of gift.

So it leaves Coyote, Yale, Omaha and Payback.

And Hangman.

He has suspicions about Yale and Omaha being together, so they’re below Coyote and Payback.

And Hangman.

Hangman who was the only one other than Natasha to talk to him about his gift, mentioned sharing… mentioned a wild night.

He sits in the Bronco and looks at the Hard Deck. His entire body prickles, an all-over shiver of something. He won’t let himself get his hopes up. It's a remote that will work in proximity only, thirty-foot range, if his research is right. And if it is there’s also an app for long distance, and isn’t that promising. Right now whoever gave it to him is inside. Maybe wearing or using whatever it is that the remote controls.

He just needs to figure out who.

… … …

He walks into the Hard Deck and looks around. Everyone is here and he feels a little spike of apprehension, not knowing what it is exactly. Then he spies Hangman, smirking at him and he heads towards the pool table where he's playing against Natasha; drawn to him like moth to the light. He gives Nat a quick hug, more affectionate with her now since the mission and how close they both came to losing each other. He won’t take her friendship fore granted again at least. He greets everyone, accepts a bottle of beer from Payback.

“Hangman.”

“Rooster.”

Every instinct in him is screaming to turn it on.

Whatever it is.

That whatever it is has something to with Hangman.

He wants it to be him.

Fuck getting his hopes up. He’s going to trust his gut.

Everyone on his short list is now within thirty feet and he presses the power button and watches closely, eyes flicking between them all quickly. No change between Yale and Omaha, who are leaning in close to one another while playing darts. Coyote almost knocks his beer over, but he’s also staring at where Natasha has leant over the pool table, because she’s one of the few that can occasionally beat Hangman, likes the challenge of playing against him. Hangman is simply standing there, eyes impassive as he watches the balls on the table. Then he’s sinking the black, eyes coming up to meet Bradley’s calmly.

“Rematch?” Natasha asks, jaw jutting out. Beside him Coyote sighs and Bradley huffs in amusement. Okay then. He runs a finger over the other little buttons, the little plus and minus symbols. Presses the little plus a couple of times, sees Hangman’s knuckle go white around the pool cue, his jaw twitch. Bingo. He presses the minus button several times, watches as Hangman’s grip on the cue lessens, meets his eyes and Bradley finds himself swallowing roughly at the heat he sees.

“Sure. Why not…” Hangman grinning at Natasha, eyes narrowing in challenge with the look he gives Bradley.

Oh it is on.

… … …

He doesn’t touch it for the entire duration of the next game. Has no idea if Hangman is wearing a plug or a cock ring, but the thought of either of those things has him half-hard in his pants. He knows those aren’t the only options, but it’s as far as his imagination will go before his brain starts glitching. The knowledge that he’s got the remote in his pocket. More heady is that Hangman gave him a remote for a sex toy, and is now using the sex toy… It’s a lot to process.

He sort of thought he’d have a conversation about this sort of thing before it ever happened. If it ever happened. Trust Hangman to throw all that out the window. Then again, conversation hasn’t exactly been one of their strong suits. Maybe this will�� help? Fucked if he knows. He looks up at Natasha’s crow of triumph, catches the scowl of discontent on Hangman’s face.

“Something wrong Hangman?”

“No. Nothing wrong here at all… Another game Phoenix?”

“With pleasure…”

This time when Hangman bends over Bradley presses the plus three times in quick succession and Hangman almost shreds the felt. He bites down on his lips, ignores the rigid line of Hangman’s back as he stands up straight again. He doesn’t turn around to look at Bradley. He wonders if he should press the plus every time he bends over of if that would be too predictable. Instead, he starts counting, able to talk with Coyote about his plans for the leave they’ve got coming up as well as thumbing the little plus when he hits a count of one-eighty. When Hangman sinks a ball he presses the minus, wonders just how much Hangman has let someone do this to him before and feels a surprising flare of irrational jealousy at the thought.

The games drags longer than usual, his fingers pressing the buttons at not quite random intervals, but making something more intense for Hangman before backing off again. He can tell it’s intense, because there is sweat around Hangman’s hairline, making his blonde hair dark, and god does he want to see his hair damp with sweat after he’s been fucked. He’s not looked at Bradley, but he doesn’t feel dissuaded in the slightest. Has watched as Hangman has tried to discreetly adjust himself, where he’s pushed himself against the pool table with a little more force than necessary.

The image of bending him over and fucking him on the pool table has him fully hard. He’s not going to be able to move out of the booth until he’s calmed down. Without realising it he’s been holding down the plus button and he lets go, wonders if holding it down has any different effect and when he chances a look at Hangman he knows it must do. He’s standing there, cue dropped to the ground, knuckles white again as he grips the edge of the table. Natasha is standing beside him, look of concern on her face and Bradley feels a little bad. But Hangman is shaking his head, mumbling that she doesn’t need to worry, that he’s good.

“You want another game?”

“No. How about you and Coyote have a round. I need to talk to Bradshaw. Outside. Now.”

He meets Bradley’s eyes then, pupils blown wide, lips red where he’s been biting down on them and he scrambles out of the booth, following him as he stalks a little stiffly toward the doors of the Hard Deck and directly to the Bronco, before he twists to face Bradley and then reaches out, fingers twisting in the black t-shirt Bradley is wearing beneath his festive button-down.

“You fucking tease…”

“Me? How am I the tease?”

“You just spent nearly an hour playing with me and you haven’t even put a single finger on me, definitely a fucking tease.”

“You haven’t asked me to lay a finger on you.”

“You need it in fucking writing?”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Then Hangman is groaning, and he’s not sure if it’s frustration or arousal, but either way he’s getting kissed, a hard cock rocking against his thigh, his own cock pressed up against Jake’s thigh in a mirror image. There are hands on his ass pulling him close and tight, he grinds into it, seeking out the friction as he licks into Hangman’s mouth, their breaths coming in shorter and sharper pants as they shift against each other, pushed up against the door of his Bronco. He scrambles at his pocket, at the remote, presses the little plus. Then Hangman is crying out, jerking violently and shaking, mouth slack and he’s absolutely gorgeous. He murmurs as much against his skin, can taste the sweat on the hard corded tendons of his neck, maybe the salt of a tear, but he’s not sure. Isn’t going to ask.

“Off. Off. Turn it the fuck off…”

He immediately presses the power button, holds Hangman as he takes in deep shuddering breaths as he clings to Bradley and also slumps against the Bronco. He’s still rock hard in his pants, uncomfortably so, but also he doesn’t imagine Hangman is any more comfortable having just come in his pants, body still making little shocked tremors against Bradley’s.

“You okay?” Bradley asks, not really sure what someone does in this situation.

“Yeah. Fucking hell. You sure know how to treat a guy…”

He ducks his head at the unexpected compliment, because it had been sheer dumb luck, but he’s not going to bring that up. Although…

“Wasn’t quite sure what I was working with. What got you so worked up?”

“How about you take me home and find out? Let me take care of you this time…”

“Yeah. Okay. We can do that.”

(Additional head canon is that Jake's family are chocolatiers so he didn't spend a single cent on the chocolates. Chocolates in question: Scharffen Berger Chocolatier's Collection).

#just gonna....#go ahead and reblog this #dont mind me #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #hangster #that gay pilot movie

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hornyfandomrambles · 6 days ago

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My theory is that when he first gets together with you, he's so touchstarved that he's practically a sub. He's willing to do *whatever* you want as long as he can be touching you somehow.

It's only after a month or two when he realises that you don't plan to stop that he starts letting his Dom side shine through.

Thoughts on Bradley being touch deprived ever since his mom dies. I read a one shot about how he never realized how touch deprived he was until him and s/o were watching a movie and she started scratching his head and it just makes me so 🙁🙁. Touch deprived Bradley with physical touch s/o makes me go burrrr

This is actually cannon. I just know it is.

Carole was an affectionate mom; always giving hugs, pecks on the top of his curly head, rubbing his back to get him to fall asleep (well into his teen years). Then she was gone and he dove headfirst into becoming a pilot to distract himself from the loss.

He doesn’t realize how much he misses it until years later when you come along. You’ve always been a touchy-feely person and can’t seem to help yourself when it comes to him. A hand curled around his thick bicep when you walk beside him, plopping down on his lap when he’s sitting, kissing his cheek every chance you get.

The first time he sleeps over, he lays his head on your chest and he cries when your fingers begin to run mindlessly through his hair.

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hornyfandomrambles · 6 days ago

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top gun ask game

Favourite ship and why?

Top Gun (1986) or Top Gun Maverick?

Favourite character from Top Gun (1986) and why?

Favourite character from Top Gun Maverick and why?

Favourite scene?

If you could be any character for a day who would you be?

Do you have any headcanons about [character or ship]?

Favourite plane used in the movies?

Favourite screencap from either movie?

If you could change one thing about either movie what would it be?

Favourite song off the soundtracks?

Favourite fic?

Favourite piece of fanart?

Favourite fic/art you created?

Ship(s) you dislike?

Underrated ship?

If you had a callsign what would it be?

Scene that makes you emotional?

Unpopular opinion?

If you could re-design any helmet or design your own what would it look like?

Favourite helmet design?

If you had the time and resources would you get a pilots license? Why or why not?

Quote from either movie that speaks to you?

A line you quote all the time?

Would you rather play beach volleyball with the 86 crew or dogfight football with the daggers?

Character from Top Gun (1986) you wish was in Top Gun Maverick?

Do you want a third movie? If so what would the plot be?

What character do you think you would get along with the most?

Did you get into aviation because of top gun or were you a fan before?

Do you own any merch?

How many times have you watched each movie?

Dress whites, service khakis or flight suits?

Line or scene from the script that you wish made it into the movie?

Character you wish got more screen time?

Volleyball scene or dogfight football scene?

Who’s the better pilot?

Outfit one of the characters wears you wish you could steal?

Which character do you project onto the most?

Ship that makes you feel the most feelings? (Does not need to be your favourite ship)

Favourite manoeuvre used in the movies?

#yk what? why not?#lets give this a go

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hornyfandomrambles · 7 days ago

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Mk so I wanted to write a little drabble based off this. So for my 3 followers... It's awful and fanficy but I don't care.

"Jake? Baby? Have you seen my-" Jake's cut short when he wanders into the living room to see his boyfriend with military standard cropped hair.

"Hey sweetheart" Bradley replies, unphased. He presses a kiss to Jake's cheek before walking up to the kitchen. "Your dog tags are in the second drawer, next to mine and on front of the badges"

Jake doesn't even compute the words coming out of his mouth, 100% of his attention on his hair. Specifically, on the lack of the curls.

A frown slowly makes its way onto his face when he realises that Bradley cut his hair short for the deployment.

"Jake? Come on baby, talk to me. What's happening here? Panic attack? Flashback?" Bradleys strong hands cupping Jake's cheeks drag him back to the present moment and he leans forward to press a kiss to Bradleys lips, surprised to find a wetness on his cheeks.

"You're crying sweetheart. Whats wrong?" Bradley points out, his voice soft and gentle as he stares at Jake, concern filling his eyes.

Jake can't help but chuckle. "I'm alright love... it's silly."

"It's never silly if it's making you cry" Bradley replies, running his hands through Jake's hair, which he hasn't gotten around to cutting yet.

"I was just upset for a moment when I realised you cut your curls"

Bradley laughs before pulling Jake in close for a bone crushing hug.

"I didn't realise you had a thing for my long hair. I promise I'll grow it back out next deployment" He reassures, still chuckling lightly as he enjoys the contact with his boyfriend

Interesting... we think Jake is a thighs man?

On a slightly fluffier note, I'd also like to suggest that Jake adores Bradleys hair. The first deployment they had together, he teared up a little when Bradley cut all his curls off again

I think Jake is just a Bradley man. He loves everything about his body. I just said thighs because there’s something about those tree trunks 🫦

I agree wholeheartedly with the curls. Jake runs his fingers through them every night and is bummed when it’s too short. He’s absolutely thrilled when their daughter has the same texture.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #hangster #that gay pilot movie #top gun #top gun maverick

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hornyfandomrambles · 7 days ago

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... no. No I cannot blame him...

So I know we've already established that Bradley is an ass guy... but is he an ass guy with Jake?

(I'm ovulating, don't mind me)

💯

Most definitely. He doesn’t discriminate based on gender. Can you blame him? Just look at it.

#rooster #hangman #hangster

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hornyfandomrambles · 10 days ago

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Wedding on Mistletoe Mountain | Part 1

Summary: Last year you and Bradley had met and fallen in love on Mistletoe Mountain at your grandparent's Inn. It was something out of a Hallmark Movie. Now a year later, you're back on Mistletoe Mountain with all your loved ones where it all began. This time... to say, "I Do." Everyone is cordially invited to the highly anticipated wedding of the year! There will be a few surprises along the way, you will not want to miss!

(This will be a 2 part follow up to last year's mini series! Read it HERE

Warnings: FLUFFY FLUFF... seriously so sweet. Mentions and illusions to smut so 18+ONLY minors DNI, Mentions (very briefly) past sexual harassment (not by any of the Daggers). If I missed anything let me know!

Word Count: 5490

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female! Reader, Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Natasha "Phoenix" Trace, All the Daggers will appear, OCs.

A/N: I do not give permission to anyone to copy, translate or post my work on this or any site. Do not feed it into any AI generator. Top Gun Maverick characters do not belong to me but all OC’s and AU’s are my content. Do NOT STEAL MY WORK.

Masterlist

Your POV

“B are you sure you’ll be back in time?” You asked your fiance. You were on a rare video call with Bradley with two weeks to go until your Christmas Eve wedding. He’d been tagged in for what was supposed to be a very short instructional assignment on a carrier with Javy, Phoenix and Bob, but had ended up turning into an 8 week deployment that was getting dangerously close to your wedding and now causing you intense anxiety.

“I promise, Baby.” He replied with a soft, tired smile. “Mav got confirmation from Admiral Simpson. Just waiting on the final return date, but it should be this week.”

“I don’t like “should” be…” You said, sighing. You knew in terms of deployments, 8 weeks wasn’t long but you missed Bradley. This was the longest you’d been apart and it sucked. “I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too.” He replied, “But we’re almost there… just a few more days, ok, Baby? I promise, as soon as I’m home we can cuddle up on the couch and watch Christmas movies.”

“I’m holding you to that.” You said, giving him a small smile. “Then we’ll be heading out East to Mistletoe Mountain… and getting married!”

“I can’t wait, Baby.” He smiled. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, B.” You replied, smiling back at him, “I can’t wait to be your wife.”

Phoenix popped her head into view and waved.

“I promise I’ll get him there in time, Y/N!” She said, “And in one piece!”

“I appreciate that, Tasha!” You laughed, “On both counts!”

“All part of the Maid of Honor service.” She replied, smirking. “How’s my boyfriend doing? Is he staying out of trouble?”

“Yup!” You replied, “He misses you and is all mopey. He hangs out here with me a lot and we watch movies, play board games… he’s helped with all the last minute wedding stuff, and with Christmas decorations!”

“Aww, Nix… you tamed him!” Bradley teased Phoenix. She smacked him playfully but didn’t deny it.

“Be nice B.” You scolded your fiance. “Jake is a sweetheart… and your Best Man!”

“Still fun to tease him.” Bradley laughed.

“I’m sorry to cut this short but I actually came to get Bradley, Y/N. We’ve got a debriefing in 15.” Phoenix said. “I’ll let you two say goodbye. I’ll talk to you soon! Tell Jake I’ll call him when I get a chance tonight!”

“I will! Thanks Tasha!” You said. You had to fight tears knowing your time with Bradley was about up but didn’t want to cry while on the video call with him.

“I’ll see you so soon, Baby.” He said. “I love you.”

“Hurry home, B.” You replied, your voice shaky but you managed a small smile. “I love you so much. Be safe!”

“I will… have to get home to my girl so I can marry her!” He replied. “Go make some cocoa and watch a movie, I’ll be there before you know it.”

After the call ended you did make cocoa but didn’t end up watching a movie. You texted Jake to let him know to expect a call later from Tasha then sat in front of your Christmas tree with your cocoa, simply enjoying the lights, letting it soothe you. You had to trust that the same Christmas magic that brought you and Bradley together in the first place would work to ensure he got home in time to make it to your wedding.

The next few days you spent making sure things were ready to go, calling to finalize details for the wedding, and packing both yours and Bradley’s luggage. You planned on leaving the day after Christmas for your honeymoon in The Bahamas where you’d be welcoming in the New Year together before flying back to San Diego.

Two days before you were due to fly out you were in a full panic. Bradley still wasn’t home and you hadn’t been able to talk to him, making your anxiety even higher. Jake had been great, coming over trying to keep you busy and your mind off things, as well as helping you with preparations.

Owen, Laney and the kids were heading to her parents for a few days to do Christmas early before they flew out East. Your parents had flown out ahead of time to help on that end to get things finalized.

You’d just finished making dinner when you heard the front door open. Jake had said he’d come by after work to hang out so you’d made extra for dinner so he could eat too.

“Sweets!” He called from the living room, “Where are you at?”

“In here!” You replied from the kitchen, pulling the baked ziti from the oven along with the garlic bread.

He popped his head in with a big smile on his face. “Come in here for a second. I’ve got something to show you.”

“Jake dinner is ready and going to get cold…” You said, rolling your eyes playfully, “Can it wait?”

“Trust me… it absolutely cannot.” He chuckled, turning to head back to the living room, expecting you to follow.

You wiped your hands on the towel and followed him out to the living room.

“Alright what’s so… “ You looked up and gasped, tears instantly flooding your eyes, “BRADLEY!” You ran across the room, flying into his waiting arms.

“Hi, Baby.” He whispered, his face buried in your hair, holding you tightly to him. Your arms were wrapped just as tightly around his neck, your own face buried in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. “I missed you so damn much.”

“I missed you too,” You whispered through the tears that were now soaking his uniform shirt. “I was so scared you wouldn’t make it back in time, B.”

“I know, Baby.” He replied, “I was starting to panic too… we got word this morning that our orders home went through.”

“If they hadn’t, I was planning on hijacking some jets and flying us outta there.” Phoenix said, standing across the room with Jake who was not letting her out of his sight.

“Tasha!” You said, smiling at her through the tears. Then Bradley’s words registered that they’d been traveling all day if they just got orders this morning. “Oh my god y’all are probably starving. I made baked ziti. Come get some actual food in your bellies… none of that carrier food.”

“Holy hell, if I wasn’t in love with Jake and you weren’t about to marry Bradley, I’d marry you!” Phoenix groaned, “We haven’t had a decent meal since we left dry land 8 weeks ago.”

“Baby, you’re too good to me.” Bradley said, kissing your head. You smiled up at him, your hand moving to brush the now longer stray hair from his forehead.

“If it helps, I made it with the idea Jake wouldn’t eat takeout …or something from a box.” You smirked, “But I’m happy that it worked out that I had a nice hot meal ready for my very soon to be husband to come to after a long deployment.”

Jake and Phoenix laugh, making their way to the kitchen. You’re about to follow but Bradley tugs you back, pulling you back into his arms.

“Hold up, Baby.” He said, holding you tightly against him, “I’m not ready to let you go just yet.”

“I’m happy to stay in your arms” You replied, melting into him. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Baby.” He replied, resting his cheek on top of your head as yours rested on his chest. “More than I can put into words.”

We stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms for a few minutes before reluctantly, we moved to the kitchen. You had Bradley sit down at the table, while you went to get him a plate and yourself a plate. Jake and Phoenix had already dug into theirs, smiling up at the two of you when you finally joined.

Jake and Phoenix left a while after dinner, making plans to go to the airport together in two days. With the kitchen cleaned up, you headed up to your shared bedroom.

“I missed you so damn much.” Bradley said, his voice soft, needy and desperate. He pulls you into his arms, cocooning you in his embrace. You wrap your own arms around him, holding him tightly around his waist, knowing he needs you to ground him. While this had been your first deployment with him, you knew from talking to your sister in law that your brother often felt out of sorts when he got home, just needing her to help recenter him… and you figured Bradley needed the same thing.

“I missed you too, B.” You said quietly, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. It seemed you needed this as well, to assure yourself he was home again with you. “I’m so happy you’re home… that I can be in your arms again.”

“Me too, Baby.” He murmured into your hair, where his face is buried. “And just one more week until you’re my wife.”

“I can’t wait” You smiled, sighing softly, “And we get to spend the week leading up to the wedding back on Mistletoe Mountain…where we fell in love.”

“I have some surprises in store for you Baby.” He smiled, pulling back to look down in your eyes. “I’ve been in cahoots with Tom and Mae over email.”

“Bradley!” You laughed, looking up at him, “Quite the little sneak you are…. Conspiring with my Nana and Papa…”

“I’m about to become their favorite Grandson in Law… Tom said so.” He beamed, proudly, “They were both more than happy to help!”

“Well you’re their only Grandson in law so far so…. Not much in way of competition.” You smirked, “But I have a strong suspicion that you’d be the favorite regardless.”

“Oh, it’s a title I aim to keep, Baby.” He chuckled, leaning down to kiss you softly. He pulled you into him, deepening the kiss, his tongue tracing over the seam of your lips. You open, giving him access, your own tongue moving to meet his. You tighten your arms around his neck, your fingers moving up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck, causing a shiver to run down his body. You both reluctantly pull away when the need for oxygen becomes too much. Bradley rests his forehead against yours, looking at you through sleepy eyes, the exhaustion finally catching up with him.

“B… you’re so sleepy.” You said, smiling softly up at him, “Let’s get you to bed.”

“I’m sorry, Baby.” he sighed, “I’ve been dying to get back to you, to make love to my fiance… but I wasn't counting on the exhaustion catching up.”

“Bradley….” You said gently, pulling back to make eye contact, “Baby… never apologize for being exhausted…or if you’re not in the mood… or any reason. I love you so much, B. I’m beyond happy just having you back home. The fact that I’ll get to curl up next to you and sleep in your arms tonight is everything.”

He gave you a small, tired smile, leaning down to kiss you tenderly, “I’m so damn lucky to be marrying you. Let’s go to bed, Baby. I absolutely have plans for you in the morning.”

The two of you got ready for bed and all but fell into your shared bed. Unlike every night over the last 8 weeks, tonight, you were finally able to cuddle up next to Bradley, breathe in his familiar comforting scent, feel his strong arms wrapped around you and listen to his steady heartbeat to fall asleep. All was once again right in your world.

*****

Two days later you found yourself back where it all began. You and Phoenix were waiting while Bradley and Jake took care of getting the SUV from the rental counter at the airport. You’d called your family as soon as you landed to let them know you were on the ground and would be headed to the Mountain soon.

“So, we’re stopping for hot cocoa on the way through town right?” Phoenix asked, smiling, “And some cookies… I’m hungry.”

“It is tradition to stop on the way.” You laughed, “And I am also craving some cocoa. I hope the rest of the squad is able to get here by Monday. Mav and Penny too. I know my Papa is over the moon to be having so many Naval aviators arriving for the wedding. The inn is full!”

“I can’t believe they are actually opening up and working for your wedding!” Phoenix laughed. “What happened to retirement?”

“They’ll go back into retirement afterwards…” You smirked, “Until another old Navy buddy calls in a favor or asks to come stay.”

She laughed, agreeing. The guys came back over, with the keys to an SUV, excitement pouring off both of them.

“Your chariot awaits, ladies.” Jake smiled, “Let’s get up to the mountain!”

Bradley takes your hand, leaning down to kiss your forehead, “Ready, Baby?” he asked, smiling.

“Absolutely ready.” You replied, leaning into him, “And we’re stopping once we get to Mistletoe at the Cafe for hot cocoa and cookies”

Bradley chuckled, “Already planned on it. Jake and I were talking about it at the counter too.”

You all headed out to the SUV and piled in. On the way up to the mountain, Christmas music played quietly in the background, while you all talked about the plans for the week and the wedding. Once you arrived in town, Bradley found a parking spot close to the cafe and pulled in. You all jumped out and headed straight in, excited for hot cocoa.

“Y/N! Bradley!” Cindy exclaimed, smiling widely, “Oh we are all so excited for your wedding! I’ve got your cake all planned!”

“Hi, Miss Cindy!” You greeted her with a big smile, “We’re very excited as well. Even more so that we’re getting married here on Mistletoe Mountain.”

“Returning to the scene of the crime!” Jake teased, “Miss Cindy you sure are a sight for sore eyes, we just can’t get a decent cup of hot cocoa or pastries worth a damn in San Diego!”

“Oh, Jake, I can’t do anything about the hot cocoa,” Cindy winked, “But you’ve been one of my most regular shipments this past year… only topped by Bradley here. Not sure how the two of you manage to stay so fit for all the sweets you’re eating!”

“In their defense, they do share the sweets with the squad when they order.” You laughed, “Begrudgingly, but they share.”

“I’ll make sure to pack extras in your next order then.” She promised, “Now let’s get you all some hot cocoa and treats to head up the Inn. Y/N, your family is already up there.”

“Perfect! Thank you so much, Miss Cindy!” You say, excited to get up to the Inn.

She packages up a variety of cookies and pastries, winking at the men before getting the hot cocoas ready. Jake is quickest on the draw to pay for everything, and you make a mental note to repay the favor this week sometime.

Back in the SUV, you occupy yourselves snacking on some treats and sipping the cocoa.

“Oh my god, I’ve missed this cocoa.” You sighed happily, then smiled over at Bradley “Tomorrow morning, we make a run for Apple Danish and peppermint mochas. Back to the beginning?”

“It’s a date, Baby.” He smiled back at you, “We’ll be the first ones there when she opens.”

“Darlin’, do you think Tom would be up to take Nix and me on a sleigh ride while we’re up here?” Jake asked from the backseat.

“He’d be more than happy to do that, Jake.” You replied, turning to smile at him, “It’ll make him so happy to take you both on a sleigh ride.”

“Hey, Baby… can I steal you for a trail ride?” Bradley asked, reaching over to squeeze your hand.

“I think we can arrange that.” You replied, squeezing his hand back. It was in the stables you’d met him for the first time… literally the start of your love story.

You arrived at the Inn and pulled in next to the vehicles already parked. You knew your Nana and Papa had already opened the cabins. You and Bradley would be staying in one of them together until the night before the wedding then the guys would stay together and you, Nat, Laney and you would be in the Inn.

“There they are!” Your mom said, smiling as she came out of the Inn to greet you all. Your dad, Nana and Papa behind her. “Did you have a good trip?”

“Hi Momma.” You smiled, hugging her, “It was good.”

“I see you stopped at Cindy’s.” Nana teased, “Girl has her priorities.”

“It’s tradition!” You defended, moving to hug her as well. “I miss you, Nana.”

“I missed you too, Sugar Plum.” She replied, hugging you back, “I’m so happy you and Bradley are back here for your wedding!”

“We wouldn’t get married anywhere else, Miss Mae.” Bradley said, smiling warmly.

“Get over here, Sweetheart and give me a hug.” Your Nana demanded.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He chuckled, hugging her. “It’s good to see you, Miss. Mae.”

“You too, Sweetheart.” She replied, hugging him back, “Tom and I are so happy to have everyone here… and that you and Sugar Plum are getting married!”

“We’re happy to be here too…and I can’t wait to marry her.” He answered, pulling back and smiling.

“Let’s let them get settled in cabins then we can all visit.” Papa said, “And I think a visit to the stables with some treats would be wise… someone is missing you, Sugar Plum.”

You and Tasha walked to the cabins while Bradley and Jake drove the SUV over. You and Bradley were in Cabin 1 while Tasha and Jake were in Cabin 2. Bob, Javy, Reuban and Mickey were in Cabin 3.

You and Bradley took your stuff into the first Cabin, the one he’d stayed in last year. Walking inside, you noticed your Nana had put out some of the Christmas decorations already and had gotten the Christmas tree stand ready for a tree. You smiled, setting your bag down on the couch, looking at the stockings that were on the fireplace.

“Just like last year.” You smiled, moving over to run your hand over them. Bradley came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you against him.

“But this year we don’t have to say goodbye after Christmas… we’ll be married.” He replied, “I think we definitely need to go find the perfect tree to fill that stand though….”

“We can do that after we go see the rest of the family.” You agreed, “We can maybe see if Jake and Tasha wanna go too, get one for their cabin.”

“I suppose we can do that.” He said, smiling.

You turned in his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Santa really came through with our wishes last year, huh?”

“He sure did, Baby.” He agreed, tightening his arms around you and ducking his head to kiss you softly. “Let’s put our bags in the room and head over to the Inn. We’ve got a busy week ahead.”

“I can’t wait.” You smiled, stealing another kiss before you grabbed your bags and took them upstairs to the room.

************************************

Bradley’s POV

You both headed over to the Inn. Jake and Tasha had already walked over. Walking inside, Bradley’s hit with the same comforting warmth and familiar scent from last year when he’d walked in the first time. Everyone is sitting by the fireplace, talking and catching up. He leads you over to a free spot on the couch, sitting down and pulling you into his lap.

“So what’s on the agenda for the day?” Your dad asked, “Anyone have anything planned?”

“Bradley and I need a Christmas tree for the stand in the cabin!” You said, cheerfully, “Thanks, Nana for decorating!”

“Of course, Sugar Plum.” She smiled, “I figured you two would want to get a tree again.”

“Oh! I want a tree!” Tasha said, her eyes lighting up, looking at Jake.

“Any chance you’d have an extra tree stand laying around Miss. Mae?” Jake asked.

“We have plenty!” She replied, winking. “We’ll get you one down and some extra decorations as well.”

“Thank you so much!” Tasha said, excitedly.

“Auntie Y/N! Uncle B!” Your niece and nephew came flying in from outside with Laney and Owen behind them.

“Soph! Alex!” You exclaim, turning your head to see them quickly stripping out of their snowsuits.

Alex was the first to escape and ran over, jumping onto the couch and monkey piling onto you and Bradley.

“Hey, Little Man!” Bradley said, laughing, “Did you have fun in the snow?”

“Yes!” Alex said, grinning widely, his front teeth missing, “Daddy and Mommy took up tubing! The hill was HUGE!”

“I took Uncle B down that same hill last year!” You said, snuggling Alex close. “We had so much fun.”

“Mommy and me flipped!” Sophie said, running over and climbing up, cuddling right up next to Bradley. She adored him. “Uncle B, can you build a snowman with me?”

“I will absolutely build a snowman with you Princess.” He promised her, wrapping an arm around her.

“Alex and Sophie, come help GiGi get some hot cocoa made.” Nana said. “I think we’ve got some cookies in here too!”

“COOKIES!” Alex yelled, jumping off to go to the kitchen.

Sophie hugged Bradley and you and then followed her brother.

“Those two are adorable.” Tasha smiled

“Alex is full of energy.” Jake laughed

“He’s always full steam ahead.” Laney agreed, plopping down onto the floor by the fireplace.

“We ran into Adam up at the ski resort when we went tubing.” Owen said. You immediately stiffened. Bradley’s arms tightened around you soothingly.

“That dickhead’s still hanging around?” Jake scoffed, “Lookin’ forward to the rest of the guys getting here and we all pay a visit to the rink again. Maybe this time knock his damn teeth out.”

“Jake.” Bradley said, giving him a look, over your head.

“What am I missing?” Owen asked, his gaze going back and forth between Bradley and Jake.

Bradley sighed, knowing Owen wouldn’t let it go. He was protective of you and would see through any attempt to brush it aside. He pulled you closer and kissed the top of your head, whispering, “You should tell him, Baby.”

You sighed, looking at your brother knowing Bradley was right. Jake looked over catching your gaze. He looked apologetic for opening pandora’s box. You gave him a reassuring smile.

“Owen, umm Jake’s right.” You said, looking at your brother. “Adam is a dickhead.”

“Y/N!” Your mom exclaimed, looking at you shocked.

“Hear her out.” Bradley said, jumping to your defense.

“Adam doesn’t know how to accept ‘no’ as an answer.” You said, “He started your senior year of high school… at the Christmas ball… got really pushy, handsy, kept cornering me, wouldn’t leave me alone. Then after he kept coming around the Inn even when you weren’t up here…when you were off for the Navy. He just was always there… trying to put his hands on me, or be in my space. I got really good at just avoiding him, or… staying away.”

“Sweetheart, why didn’t you say something?” Your mom asked, her eyes wide in shock and guilt. “We would have kept him away from you.”

“I’d have laid him on his damn ass!” Your dad said, fury in his eyes.

“I’d have knocked his damn teeth out and broken his nose.” Owen said darkly, clenching his jaw, “Actually, I think I might go find him and do just that.”

“Owen, no.” You said, sighing. “As much as I would love to see his face rearranged, I don’t want anything to ruin this week and he’s just not worth it. I’m fine… I won at life… he’s running the skate rental, is single and living in his parent’s basement. I’m about to marry the love of my life, have an amazing job, incredible friends, and do not live with my parents.”

Bradley chuckles, leaning in to kiss the top of your head. Jake and Tasha laugh at your assessment.

Owen sighs, shaking his head smiling. “Ok, Shortcake. I won’t rearrange his face. But I will be making sure he stays the hell away from you.”

“That’s a plan I can get behind.” Jake said. “He will not be getting close to you, Darlin’.”

“Damn straight.” Your Dad said, “I will not let that weasel get near my girl.”

Bradley pulls you tighter against him. The kids came back in lightening the mood again with their antics. After a bit you and Tasha take them into the dining room to play some games with them.

Jake moves over to Bradley on the couch. He looks to make sure you and Tasha are out of earshot then says quietly, “I want to propose to Nix this week while we’re up here… if you’re cool with it. I don’t want to take away from your wedding week. I just figured… this is where we finally got together… and if Tom could take us on the sleigh again…even better.”

“Jake, that’s a perfect plan, man,” Bradley smiled, “Of course I’m fine with it… Y/N will be so happy too. Let me know if you need any help setting it up.”

“Thank you.” Jake said, smiling, “I’m going to ask Tom about the sleigh ride maybe tomorrow night. Figured that would be best since the rest of the crew arrives in a few days.”

“We can have a mini celebration with the whole gang when they get here. Go to dinner up at the ski lodge.” Bradley suggested.

“We can wait to do any of that until y’all are back in San Diego after the New Year.” Jake insisted, “This is your week. Yours and Y/N’s…”

“Nope, we’re celebrating.” Bradley insisted, smiling, “I’ll take care of it, just focus on your proposal.”

“You really are the best damn friend a person could have.” Jake said, “Thanks, Bradley.”

“You’re welcome.” He replied, shrugging, “At this point, we’re family… it’s just what we do. I’ll go keep them all distracted so you can talk to Tom.”

“Thanks, man.” Jake smiled.

******

Later that afternoon, you and Bradley, Jake and Tasha all headed out in search of perfect Christmas trees. Like last year, you’d hooked sleds up to snowmobiles and drove them out to the same place you cut last year’s tree down from. When you get there, Bradley takes your hand and the two of you start walking to the line of trees, looking for the perfect one to decorate the cabin. Jake and Tasha walk further down the other direction.

“Guess what?” Bradley said, smiling excitedly when you were out of earshot from Jake and Tasha.

“What?” You laughed, at his exuberance.

“Jake is going to take Nix on a sleigh ride tomorrow night…” He said, practically bouncing with excitement, “And he’s going to propose.”

“Oh my GOD!” You whisper yell, now just as excited as he is, “B, that’s so perfect!”

“I know!” He agreed, “That’s what I told him. I also said we’d plan a celebratory dinner with the squad once everyone is here up the ski lodge. He tried to argue but I shot that down quickly.”

“Good job, Baby.” You said, proudly, “We absolutely have to celebrate! Oh my god, Tasha will be so surprised, but so happy.”

“This mountain really is magical.” Bradley said, pulling you into his arms, and leaning down to kiss you.

“It really is.” You replied, smiling against his lips. “Let’s find our perfect tree, my love.”

Later that night you and Bradley decorate your tree together just like you had the year before. Once the last ornament was on, he lifted you up to put the star on top. Afterwards the two of you made hot cocoa and snacks and laid on the couch to watch Christmas movies, the lights on the tree, the soft glow of the TV and the fire in the fireplace providing the ambiance.

The next morning, as planned, you and Bradley were up and headed to town early so you could be at The Gingerbread Cafe right when Cindy opened to get peppermint mochas and apple danishes, along with other pastries for everyone to share.

“I figured I’d be seeing you two in here this morning!” Cindy laughed, “I have extra apple danishes and pastries already ready to go for you and I’ll get two peppermint mochas ready right now.”

“I guess we’re very predictable.” You replied, leaning against Bradley, smiling at Cindy. “Thank you so much, Miss. Cindy!”

“You’re more than welcome, Sweet girl!” She replied, “I’ve always had a soft spot for you.”

On the way back to the rental SUV, Bradley looks over at you, looking happy and relaxed being in a place you love so much. He’s excited to be back here this week with you, not only to marry you, but also because he plans to try to recreate as many of the special moments you both shared last year as well as to create some new memories.

Later that day, you and Bradley go on a trail ride, taking Holly and Snowball out. When you got back, Tasha came over to the cabin to “help” you get ready for your date with him that night. The two of you were going to the ski lodge for dinner then to the walk around to look at Christmas lights. While she was there, you decided the two of you needed a pamper session and you did her hair and makeup too. In reality you knew what Jake was up to later and this way she’d be prepared.

“You look beautiful, Baby.” Bradley said, when you came down the stairs later that evening. You had on fleece lined tights and black booties, with an off the shoulder red velvet dress. You’d come prepared this year for a fancy dinner with your fiance.

“Thank you, Handsome.” You replied, smiling. You wrap your arms around him and kiss him softly. “You’re looking pretty hot yourself.”

“Never even on the same playing field as my sexy fiance.” He winked. “You ready to go?”

“I’m ready.” You replied, laughing softly, “Was Jake freaking out when you were over there helping him?”

“He was actually very calm,” He replied, “He is so sure about this and absolutely in love with Tash that he’s giddy about asking her. I’ll be surprised if they make it out of the meadow before he asks her.”

“She’s just as in love with him.” You said, smiling up at Bradley, “They’re adorable.”

“Yeah… but not as adorable as us.” He insisted.

“I didn’t know it was a competition!” You laughed, “But… I don’t disagree.”

The two of you headed out, the drive to the Ski Resort peaceful. Somehow, Bradley had remembered the exact table the two of you had sat at last year and arranged for that to be your table again tonight.

“You’re such a romantic” You gushed. “I love you so damn much, Bradley.”

“It’s easy to be romantic with you, Baby.” He replied, blushing. “I love you too…more than anything”

The waiter brought over a bottle of champagne and glasses along with the menu. Neither of you really needed the menu, both already knowing what you wanted.. You got the parmesan crusted chicken breast with steamed veggies and the twice baked potato and Bradley ordered the peppered steak with the twice baked potato and steamed veggies. Both of which would be served at your reception that weekend.

“To my beautiful fiance… I’m so lucky to get to marry you this weekend.” He said, lifting his champagne glass, looking at you with so much love in his eyes for you. “You truly are a dream come true, Baby.”

“B, you are a Christmas wish come true.” You replied, smiling at him, lifting your own glass to his, “I’m so lucky… and so happy to get to spend the rest of my Christmases with you.”

After dinner the two of you drove down to town, finding a parking spot and went for a walk around the town square. You grabbed hot cocoa and dessert at The Gingerbread Cafe. It started to snow while you walked through the light display, adding to the ambiance.

“This really is perfect.” You said, looking up at Bradley and smiling, as you held hands and walking through the park, enjoying the lights.

“It really is, Baby.” He replied, pausing to lean over and kiss you. “And it’s just the beginning.”

***

A/N: Thoughts?? Love to hear from you! Comment, Reblog, Message me!

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#rooster #rooster x reader #that gay pilot movie #reblogging for science

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hornyfandomrambles · 11 days ago

Note

May I also submit...

Phoenix has an incredibly weak stomach. All you have to do is mention your stomach is feeling ill and she's out of there calling over her shoulder "I'll call... Bob or someone else to help"

Hello! Odd question I know but I'm very ill at the moment (tummy bug) and I was wondering what the top gun men's (and Phoenix if you're up for it) reaction and action would be if their partner got ill?

Oh I’m so sorry you’re sick! Stomach bugs are the worst 😩

I think they’d all be great. They’d have you rest, make you soup when you’re ready for it, and rub your back.

But Jake’s a germaphone and would wear a mask and gloves as he sprayed the house with Lysol so he doesn’t get it. Bradley would show support by the sitting outside the bathroom door because he cannot handle puke lol.

18 notes · View notes

hornyfandomrambles · 15 days ago

Text

*cough cough* @mynameismckenziemae *cough cough*

That Jake feels the need to grab the closest, and largest, phallic object he can the moment he sees Bradley is just not discussed enough.

Sees Bradley, grabs pool cue off Bob, proceeds to bend over a lot.

Everything is bigger in Texas, except subtlety

#hangster

213 notes · View notes

hornyfandomrambles · 15 days ago

Text

Rooster wasn't for you. You were opposites in so many ways - he was an extrovert to your introvert. The center of attention to your wallflower. You weren't interested in a one night stand, and he couldn't offer more. So his volunteering to help with Friendsgiving was just a friendly gesture after you returned from a deployment...right?

Word count: 7.8K

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“Just a minute!” you called, swiping a strand of hair from your face. The knocking stopped, and you quickly washed the flour from your hands, drying them on the towel thrown over your shoulder while heading to the door.

And there, standing on your front step as the sun started to rise, was Bradley. His normally styled curls were sleep-mussed, his grey t-shirt clinging to his arms and untucked from his Navy PT sweatpants. The smile on his face grew as he took you in - sweatpants, a baggy sweatshirt dotted with flour, fuzzy socks, and not a stitch of makeup. The difference from your normally put-together appearance was stark. “Morning, Duch.”

“You’re late.” Laughing, he held up a bag of microwavable frozen corn.

“Had to turn around when I forgot my contribution.” Rolling your eyes, you stepped back to let him in, watching to ensure he removed his shoes before following you into the kitchen.

“The turkey’s already thawed and in the sink. I just need you to clean it out, and I can take it from there.” Bradley nodded, tossing you the corn before going to the kitchen. You put it in the freezer and walked to the downstairs bathroom to wash your hands before resuming your spot at the counter, picking up your bread lame and staring at the unbaked loaf. A part of you wanted to do a simple score, knowing that it would just be eaten, but the hostess in you demanded a more intricate design. The indecision tore at you. To buy time, you sprinkled the top with more rice flour.

“Can you get me the trashcan?” Bradley asked, and you nodded, quickly abandoning your project. After you set it beside him and pulled off the cover, he tossed the netting and plastic. You couldn’t help but notice his biceps flex as he shifted the turkey. But you shrunk back when he reached into the cavity and pulled out the giblets and gravy package, shaking your head at his raised eyebrow. He discarded them as you braced yourself, nose scrunching when he removed the neck. “You alright there, Duch?” he teased.

“Gross.”

“It’s just a turkey neck,” he said, holding it closer to you. You jumped back.

“I will throat punch you if you touch me with that.” He laughed, edging it closer, and you raised a fist. There was a reason a condition of you hosting everyone for Friendsgiving was someone else cleaning the turkey.

“Didn’t take you for being squeamish.”

“You would be, too, if your grandpa chased you around the house with it when you were a kid, and you had to lock yourself in a bathroom to escape.” At his barked laugh, you shook your head. “I told that to my ex, and he thought it was funny to put it in his zipper and chase me around the house with it. If floppy dick isn’t attractive, a turkey neck sure as shit isn’t.”

Bradley choked on a laugh. For as prim and proper as you were at times - hence the callsign Duchess - you sometimes reminded everyone that you also had a military sense of humor. “Maybe you just haven’t seen the right ‘floppy dick,’” he smirked, dropping the neck into the trash.

Shrugging, you glanced away from him when the oven beeped, alerting that it was preheated. “You’re right. Bob probably has a pretty one.” A rosy flush crept up his cheeks as he turned back to the turkey and forced a laugh. Bradley didn’t want to hear that you were thinking about Bob’s dick. “Put it in this afterward, and I’ll dry it.” After dropping the roasting pan beside him, you rewashed your hands.

Standing in front of your bread, you bit your lip to keep from giggling as you contemplated scoring a dick into the dough but decided to go with a traditional wheat stalk. To your surprise, he grabbed the roll of paper towels by the sink and patted the turkey dry, even the cavity. As you removed the Dutch oven from the preheated oven, he tied up the trash bag and took it out. After putting the bread into the oven, you set the timer and moved to the sink, glancing at Bradley when he came back in. Standing beside you, he reached for the soap and lowered the water temperature before scrubbing his hands. Removing the hand towel from your shoulder, you draped it over his after drying your hands. “Thanks,” he murmured.

“Thanks for taking care of the turkey.” Standing by the island, you crouched to retrieve a cutting board. The sound of other cabinets closing made you peek over the countertop to see him rooting through the overhead storage. “Are you looking for something?”

“Coffee mugs.” Biting back a retort about making himself comfortable, you pointed to the right of the stove. You bit your tongue when he grabbed two mugs - including your favorite - and went to the wet bar where the full pot was finished brewing. Placing the cutting board on the counter, you grabbed a knife from the block and were surprised to see a mug of coffee beside your workstation. Murmuring your thanks, you grabbed the creamer from the fridge along with packages of herbs and butter. “What are you making?” Bradley asked.

“A marinade since I didn’t brine the turkey.”

“You want a hand?”

“I’ve got it,” you said automatically. “I’ve got a schedule.” He didn’t need to know that you were already behind after falling asleep on the couch early last night and forgetting to set your alarm. And he definitely didn’t need to know that you’d only been awake for 20 minutes before he arrived. If you put your head down and focused, everything would still be ready to eat at the agreed-upon 3:00 PM. Some of your time to get yourself ready would just have to be sacrificed. For some reason, you’d insisted that everyone dress nicely for Friendsgiving. Wearing a uniform almost every day didn’t give you any opportunities to dress up, and sometimes it felt nice to wear something other than jeans and a t-shirt.

Setting your tablet up, you navigated through the bookmarked recipes and rinsed the herbs before pulling them from the stems. Bradley leaned against the counter beside you and sipped his coffee while glancing around the kitchen. Seeing him relaxing there, one leg crossed over the other and looking like he’d just rolled out of bed, made something flutter in your chest.

“You know, you could have saved a lot of time if you’d just agreed to let Hangman fry the turkey.”

That made you snort. “I just finished my renovations - the last thing I want is for my house to burn down.” It had taken months to get your home exactly how you wanted it. After twelve years in the Navy, you were ready to put down some roots, and buying a home had seemed like the smart thing to do. Living in a construction zone for the last year hadn’t been fun, but a well-timed deployment meant you weren’t there for the worst of it. The results were worth the pain, and you’d jumped at the chance to host when you got back and realized most of the squad had no plans for Thanksgiving. You couldn’t wait for them to see the changes in the Craftsman that had been a definite fixer-upper when you purchased it. The kitchen had been completely gutted and replaced with double ovens and quartz countertops, and the smaller kitchen island had been moved and changed to a wet bar with a wine fridge, replaced with an oversized one. The popcorn texture was scraped from the ceiling throughout the house, the floors redone, and the walls painted. The primary bath had been updated with a large soaker tub and walk-in shower, and you loved the giant closet. The guest bathrooms still needed work, as did the yard, but those were projects for later.

“It looks good, Duch,” he said softly, gaze holding yours for a long moment. You felt those inconvenient butterflies again and shoved them aside, dropping your eyes to the cutting board. Bradley wasn’t for you. You were too different - he enjoyed nights out at the bar, while you liked to spend time at home. He liked being the center of attention while you preferred to blend into the background. Besides, he didn’t seem much like a relationship guy, given the number of flings he had at the Hard Deck, while the idea of casual dating gave you hives. Pushing away from the counter, Bradley reached under the sink for a trashbag, putting it into the can before washing his hands. He moved closer, nose twitching slightly at the scent of rosemary, and braced his big hands on the countertop beside you. “Alright, what can I do?”

“You don’t - ”

“Lemme help.” His eyes met yours, smiling when you sighed.

“Fine. The meat injector is in here,” you said, bumping one of the drawer handles with your hip. “And I’ll need the chicken stock from the pantry.” Pouring the stock, herbs, and a couple of sticks of butter into a stockpan, you handed Bradley a silicone spatula and told him to stir. You rolled your lips together to keep from smiling when he pulled his phone from his pocket and watched videos of turkey injections before declaring he would be in charge of it. Reluctantly, you agreed. Once the marinade had cooled, the bird was given a second drying, you had finished the coffee, and Bradley had rewatched the video three times, it was time. He studied the turkey through narrowed eyes as you tried not to laugh. “You want to - ”

“Ah!”

“The breast and thighs - ”

“I’m doing it, Duch,” he cut you off.

“Well, remember that if it turns out dry.” The unimpressed look Bradley shot you made you grin as you put your chin in your hand and motioned for him to proceed. The tip of his tongue poked through his lips as he filled the injector and hovered the needle over the turkey. His eyes darted to you, and you raised an eyebrow. “You can tap out at any time, Rooster.” Instead of replying, he pierced the meat and pushed down on the plunger. You couldn’t help but laugh when he yelped, marinade spraying in his face after pushing too hard. But when he reached to wipe it away, you caught his hands. “Don’t put turkey germs all over your face,” you scoffed, towing him toward the sink. You held his chin while cleaning his face with wet paper towels.

“Now you’re just messing with me,” he chuckled when you scrubbed his mustache, but he didn’t pull away. His breath was hot on your hand, and his smile soft when you reached up to dab away a speck of garlic in his eyebrow. Balling up the paper towel, you shook your head.

“Wash your face with soap to make sure you don’t get salmonella. Cyclone’ll kill me if you’re out with food poisoning.” Turning on the water, you ensured it was warm before getting a clean washcloth. The oven timer beeped as you dug through the linen closet, and you hurried back into the kitchen, throwing the towel on the sink beside him and grabbing the pot holders to take out your bread. Once it was on the wire rack to cool, you moved to the turkey.

“What’re you doing?” Bradley demanded, turning while drying his face.

“Taking over.” You gasped when he closed the space between you in a few strides, wrapped his arm around your waist, and lifted you away from the counter. “Bradshaw! What the hell?”

“Told you I’m doing it,” he chuckled in your ear. Once back on your feet, you spun in his hold and stared at him. Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his cocky smirk.

“Fine, but if you waste more of my marinade, you’re out of my kitchen.”

“Deal.”

Thankfully, there were no further incidents, but you kept a close eye on him while slicing up a loaf of bread you’d baked two days before and let go stale for stuffing. After covering the roasting tray with tin foil, the bird went back into the fridge to rest for a few hours. “Thanks, Rooster. I guess I’ll see you later?”

“What else can I do?”

“You don’t - ”

“I want to help. I haven’t…” his eyes dropped to the floor as he shrugged. “I never got to do this before. My mom and I would always go to my cousin’s for Thanksgiving before she died, and it always seemed kinda fun.”

Everyone on the squad knew that Bradley’s parents had passed when he was young. He didn’t mention them often, but you noticed he’d get quiet sometimes when people talked about their families. So his volunteering the information felt important, and glancing at the clock showed that you were still behind schedule. “Fine.”

“Yeah?” he asked, excitement flashing in his eyes.

“Don’t look so happy - you’re doing prep work. You can peel potatoes, assemble the veggie tray, and roast the garlic. I need to work on sides and desserts.”

And he did. Bradley followed your instructions, grimacing while peeling potatoes over the trash can until you took out a plastic bag and put it in the sink for him to do it there. You kept an eye on him as he cut the spuds into uniform pieces after explaining that they wouldn’t cook evenly for the mashed potatoes, somewhat worried that he would cut himself. Rather than deal with the onions, you delegated the task and tried not to laugh at his near-constant sniffles and swipes at his watery eyes as you diced peppers. Once you dug out the hand-me-down crystal platters, he arranged the veggies you’d prepped the night before while making pies. Dips were mixed, and cans of olives and bottles of pickles were opened and drained before being plated.

Other than bumping into one another when going for the fridge at the same time, it wasn’t too bad sharing the kitchen. The coffee pot was quickly emptied, and Bradley brewed another between shredding blocks of cheese. You sang along with your playlists, his deep voice joining on a few songs while teasing you about others. When you sang about karma being a kink, he watched your hips sway at the sink, clenching his jaw when you sang a breathy ‘oh god.’

He slid the roasting tray into the oven when the turkey was rested and ready to cook. “Now what?” he asked, turning to look at you.

“Now we keep an eye on it for about four hours. Baste and re-inject it every hour or so,” you shrugged. A glance at his watch showed it would be almost 2:00 PM by the time it was ready. As though realizing it would still be hours before eating, his stomach grumbled its discontent. He blushed when you smirked. “I guess the least I can do is make my sous chef breakfast. Get the muffins and butter from the fridge for me.”

“Did you make these?” he asked, setting the containers beside you as you heated a skillet on the stove.

“I did - family tradition is grilled muffins on Thanksgiving morning. You okay with blueberry?” At his nod, you started slicing muffins in half. Rather than giving you space, Bradley stayed at your elbow. A comfortable silence fell, broken only by sizzling butter. His gaze met yours when you glanced up at him, and a smile tugged at his mouth.

An image of reaching up to bury your fingers in his messy curls and tugging his mouth down to meet yours flashed through your mind. Your fingers twitched with the urge to do it, eyes drifting to his mouth and lingering there for a moment too long. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and you forced yourself to look away, heat creeping into your face.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when he reached up to shift a strand of hair that had fallen from your messy bun. “I’m glad you're back, Duch,” he said, voice slightly raspy.

Forcing a laugh, you plated two muffins and handed them to him. “Everyone misses the mom friend of the group when she’s deployed.” Your eyes darted to his stomach when it growled again, just in time to see the front of his sweats twitch. Pretending you didn’t see it, you nodded to the living room. “The parade is recording if you want to watch it.”

Bradley opened his mouth as though he would say something before taking the apparent dismissal. Alone in the kitchen, you touched your cheek and felt warm skin. With a deep breath, you grilled yourself a muffin as the sound of the broadcasters came from the living room. After topping up your coffee, you joined him. He sprawled on one end of the couch, plate balanced on a thigh as he sipped his coffee. Sitting on the opposite side, you crossed your legs and let out a soft groan. Only a couple of hours standing in the kitchen and your back was already starting to protest. “What else do you have to do this morning?” he asked after a moment.

Mentally running through your list, you sighed. “I need to do some cleaning and get into the attic. I’ll start cooking a bit closer to noon, so things just have to be warmed up.”

“What do you need from the attic?”

“My nice china. My parents bought my sister and I sets for our hope chests when we were kids.”

“What’s a hope chest?”

“You know, stuff you’d need once you get married?” When his eyebrows shot up, you shrugged. “They weren’t really serious about it - it was more of a joke. But, every once in a while, they’d buy something for us and put it away for when we were older and say it was for our hope chest.” Taking a bite of muffin, you gave him a sad smile, “Mine’s more of a ‘hopeless’ chest,’ though. I guess they finally gave up on me getting married because they gave it to me when they sold their house and moved closer to the grandkids. I figured I’d get it out and use it instead of having it sit in the cardboard boxes it’s been in for over two decades.” Something passed over Bradley’s face but disappeared in an instant. Wanting to change the subject, you asked, “What do you usually do for Thanksgiving?”

“Nothing. It’s just another Thursday.” When you frowned, he lifted a shoulder. “A couple of times, I went to the Officer’s Club, or someone would invite me over. But most of the time, I just make myself a turkey sandwich and catch up on sleep. What about you?”

“If I’m not with my family, then this. When I first commissioned, I went to the O-Club with some friends but missed cooking and hanging out. And you know how hard it is to go home for the holidays.” He nodded even though he didn’t. Bradley never asked for the time off unless he was dating someone who insisted on it. With no family to visit, he was happy to volunteer when there was reduced manning and allow others to take leave. “So I invited a couple of people from my squad over, and that was that.”

“It’s a lot of work.”

“It is,” you agreed. “But it’s worth it.” Bradley’s fingers curled around his plate and in his sweatpants, his chest expanding as he took a deep breath. When he shifted forward, you quickly stood and reached out your hand for his empty plate. “Do you want another one?” Shaking his head, he stood and took your plate.

“Do you?” Swallowing hard, you shook your head and watched him walk back into the kitchen. Biting back a groan, you gave yourself a moment to collect yourself. Things had been…different… since you’d gotten home. And as much as you enjoyed these quiet moments alone with Bradley, it also stung. You’d thought the time away would help, but as soon as you were back, it was like no time had passed. He was still there, partnering for foosball in the Ready Room and coaxing you to go to the Hard Deck. Making sure that you sat next to him in briefings. Offering to look at your car when it made a noise.

Friends. That’s what friends do for each other. After all, he did the same for Nat.

Collecting the empty coffee mugs, you followed him to the kitchen and watched as Bradley cleaned up the mess and set it in the sink. “Don’t feel like you have to stick around, Rooster. I can handle getting everything ready.”

“I’m happy to help if you want me here. I’d just sit at my house watching TV and wait to come back if I went home.”

Chewing the inside of your lip, you bit back a wave of want. “Don’t think this gets you out of the dress code,” you replied, forcing your voice to be cool while allowing your eyes to run the length of him. “I’m serious - slacks and button-downs, not sweats.”

Laughing, he snapped a salute. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll make sure I run home and change to pass your inspection.”

The rest of the morning was a blur, punctuated by moments of stark clarity.

Bradley’s hands on your waist as you climbed down the attic stairs.

Biceps flexing as he carried your Christmas tree to a spare bedroom to set up tomorrow.

His elbow bumping yours as he dried the china and set it aside.

The look of concentration on his face when he basted and injected the turkey again.

His body passing close to yours as he emptied the dishwasher and you assembled dishes.

Just after noon, he went home to get ready while you showered. People were due to arrive around 1:30 PM, and you were back on schedule with your unexpected assistant.

Sooner than you expected, there was a knock at the door. Groaning, you capped your mascara, shimmied into your black sheath cocktail dress, and went to answer it. Bradley stood on the porch, having changed into a pair of slacks and one of his nicer Hawaiian shirts, hands in his pockets. Folded over his arm was a coat, and he grinned at you when he caught you looking at it. “Wasn’t sure if I would pass inspection without a sports coat,” he chuckled, allowing his gaze to rake over you. A flush rose on your cheeks as you reached behind yourself to pull up the dress zipper. It caught just above the top of your thong. “You look… you’re fine.” Chuckling, he shook his head.

“Turn around, Duch.” After a beat, you stepped back to allow him inside and did as he said.

“There’s a hook and eye at the top,” you said and inhaled sharply when you felt his fingers brush the back of your neck. The smell of his cologne enveloped you, and you bit back a moan when his hand moved to your lower back and tugged the zipper up. After a beat, you turned to face him and were surprised by how close he was. His mouth curved into a smile as he looked down at you, hand resting on your waist.

“You look fine, too,” he said softly. Your hands itched to move to his chest. Bradley’s eyes drifted to your lips, and your breath caught as his fingers flexed around you. If asked, you would have sworn you felt the lightest pressure pulling you closer - but then someone knocked on the door. Stepping out of his hold, you smoothed your hair down and ignored the brief moment his hands hung in suspension before being shoved back into his pockets.

“I came early to see if you needed a hand,” Phoenix said when you opened the door. In her hands was a tray, and she’d also chosen a cocktail dress for the occasion. Her normally tied-back hair was loose around her shoulders.

“Hey,” you smiled, hoping that you weren’t blushing. Nat’s eyes shifted over your shoulders and narrowed slightly.

“What are you doing here?”

“Same as you - seeing of Duch needed help.”

“He’s been here all morning,” you blurted out, flushing when both sets of eyes landed on you. “He’s taking care of the turkey.”

“The guy who hates cooking is in charge of the main dish?” Nat smirked. “Probably would have been better letting Hangman fry it.”

“He’s being supervised,” you assured, glancing over your shoulder to see him rolling his eyes. Stepping back to let Nat into the house, you accidentally bumped into Bradley, who held your hips to steady you. Quickly moving away from his touch, you took the tray from her and motioned for them to follow you into the kitchen. “I haven’t had a chance to put any drinks out, but there’s some coffee left and wine chilling. I still need to make the cocktails, but there’s also soda and flavored water.” The two followed you, exchanging a look that you missed.

As soon as he entered the kitchen, Bradley tossed his coat onto the wet bar and moved to the oven, flipping on the light to check the turkey before glancing at his watch. “I need to do the last basting, right?”

“It’s about that time,” you agreed, glancing at the clock. Digging through a drawer, you pulled out an apron and put it on, crossing the strings behind your back before tying them in a bow across your stomach. You thought you heard a murmured ‘Jesus Christ’ when you turned around to see him holding the pot holders.

You could feel Nat watching as you worked together to remove the turkey and then return it to the oven, popping olives into her mouth and smirking. “Looks like you guys have it down,” she said. “Don’t need my help at all.”

“Nope,” Bradley said, drowning out your, “You can feel free to relax.”

“Might as well do something since I’m here,” she shrugged, pushing off her elbows. “What can I do?”

And so, with a third set of hands, you set them to making large batches of seasonal cocktails while you cut the bread you’d made that morning, covering it with slices of brie and dried cranberries before drizzling it with honey. A quick scroll through your schedule gave you the times to start cooking, and you preheated the second oven.

The house slowly filled as more of the squad arrived. Countertops were quickly covered with their contributions - thankfully, more than beer and wine, and only a few sides repeated - and you mentally shifted your schedule to accommodate the additional dishes.

Mav, Penny, and Amelia were the last to arrive, with her new bartender, Georgia, in tow. Penny had asked you if she could invite her, given that the woman was new to the area and didn’t have anywhere else to spend the holiday. You’d replied with, “The more, the merrier,” just like you had for everyone else’s requests to bring a guest.

But you regretted that sentiment when you saw how she zeroed in on Bradley, staying close to him while you worked in the kitchen. The few times you broke away to mingle - showing off your renovated home, making sure that everyone’s glasses were topped off and that they didn’t need anything - you saw her hanging off his arm, giving him a simpering smile that set your teeth on edge. And, while she’d adhered to the dress code, you weren’t exactly thrilled to see that her breasts were nearly spilling out of her low-cut dress.

“You need anything, Duchess?” Payback asked, setting down the pitcher of spiced ginger pear and bourbon.

“I’m good,” you replied, wiping your hands on the dish rag thrown over your shoulder and blowing a loose strand of hair from your face. “Turkey should be done in a few minutes; once it rests, we can eat.”

“Thanks for doing this,” he said, glancing over at your full house. Aviators were sprawled across your living room and spilled out into the backyard. It was exactly what you’d hoped for when redesigning the house - plenty of space to comfortably entertain.

“I’m happy to, Payback,” you smiled, allowing him to pull you in for a hug. “Beats having a quiet house for the holidays.”

“Want me to get the turkey out for you?”

“I’ve got it covered,” a voice said behind you, and you couldn’t help but wonder about Bradley's slightly sharp tone as you pulled away from the hug.

“Got it,” Payback replied, raising an eyebrow and lifting his hands. “Let me know if you need anything, Duch.” Squaring your shoulders, you turned to face the man behind you and forced a smile.

“I’ll clear off a spot on the stove for you to put the pan, and then we’ll let it sit for half an hour.”

“Then it’ll be done?”

“Then you’ll have officially made your first turkey,” you nodded. When the timer went off, Bradley quickly pulled the bird from the oven and set it on the stove, closely inspecting his work.

“Does it look right?”

“Yes, relax.”

“Did you make it?” a smokey voice asked, and you felt your shoulders rise. Glancing at Georgia, you saw Bradley’s eyes dart between you.

“He did,” you answered, smiling at the woman.

“I just followed her directions,” he replied.

“It looks great!” Georgia giggled. Forcing a smile, you undid the apron strings and pulled it off before excusing yourself. You could feel eyes on you as you walked down the hallway to your bedroom and shut the door, retreating to your en suite.

After washing your hands for the millionth time, you quickly applied lotion while examining your appearance in the mirror. Compared to Georgia, you looked matronly with your hair pulled back and a higher neckline. Sure, your dress was classy - somewhat tight and falling just above your knees - but not attention-grabbing.

Not that you were trying to grab anyone’s attention.

A knock on your bedroom door startled you, and you peeked out to call, “Who is it?”

“Rooster.” Glancing back in the mirror, you saw your cheeks were slightly pink and scowled at your reflection.

“Get it together,” you hissed before turning off the light and going to open the door. And there he was, smiling down at you.

“Your phone was going off,” he said, holding up your cell. When your eyes flitted toward it, the device unlocked to show your family group chat was going off. Taking it from him, you swiped up to see videos and pictures. A smile crept onto your mouth as you clicked the first and heard your older sister’s voice.

“Guess what?” she said before tossing a card down and throwing her hands up. Cheers and laughs broke out, and you could hear your nephew complaining as your grandmother said, “Looks like Mom won!”

The camera panned to show your other nephew licking whipped cream off his pie, utterly unfazed by the family now pounding on the table in a drumroll. Catching Bradley’s interested expression, you moved so he could see the screen. Scrolling through the other videos, you watched your mom roll down a hill with the boys and your dad holding a glass of wine with your brother-in-law. The sight made your heart clench, and you sighed. Being away from family on the holidays was the worst. Thankfully, they all understood that your job didn’t always give you the flexibility to be with them.

“Looks like a fun group.”

“They are. I’m glad I get to spend Christmas with them.” He nodded, a flicker of sadness and something else in his eyes. “What are you doing for Christmas?”

“Mav’s already told me I’m spending it with him and Penny.”

“Sounds like fun.” You knew a complicated dynamic existed there but didn’t want to pry. His shoulder lifted, eyes drifting to your now dark phone. And that’s when you recognized the look on his face - longing. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” When he saw your unconvinced expression, he sighed. “Holidays kind of suck when you don’t have family.”

“I’m sorry, Bradley.” Something in his expression changed when you said his name and reached out to touch his arm. His eyes darted from your hand to your face, and you quickly pulled away. But he was faster, catching your fingers and holding tightly. Your breath caught with the intensity of his gaze, and he stepped into your room. His breath was warm on your face when you refused to retreat. Lifting your chin, you saw his throat bob when he swallowed.

“Hey, there’s a timer going off,” Bob called down the hall.

“Be right there,” you yelled back, pushing lightly against Bradley’s chest and forcing space between you. But when you tried to shake off his hand, he held fast. “I need to go, or something will burn,” you breathed. Reluctantly, he nodded and released you.

You’d already removed the green bean casserole and macaroni and cheese from the oven when Bradley reappeared. Unsurprisingly, Georgia glued herself to his side as he sipped his drink. Though you could feel him looking at you, you refused to meet his gaze.

When everything was ready, you looked over your kitchen and nodded approvingly. When the guys offered to carve the turkey, you turned them all down and delegated that task to Bradley. “He earned it,” you said, glancing at him before busying yourself with opening another bottle of wine. With Coyote and Fanboy at his elbows critiquing his cuts, you steered clear of that part of the kitchen and chatted with Penny while pulling out silverware.

Hangman refused to let you go around the room and tell people that food was ready, instead pulling out a chair and helping you stand on it before whistling loudly to get everyone’s attention. “Dinner’s served!” you said, placing a hand on his shoulder, his arm around your hips to keep you steady. “Thank you for bringing something, and please help yourself. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone - I’m glad I get to spend it with you.” Lifting your wine glass, you took a quick sip and laughed when Hangman lifted you off the chair to set you back on the floor.

Choosing to wait until your guests had a plate, you leaned against the wet bar and smiled tiredly, watching your hard work be devoured. There weren’t enough chairs for everyone at the table, so the group spread into the living room. You took a few pictures and sent them to your family.

Someone stepped in front of you, pulling your attention from your phone. “You’re not gonna eat?” Bradley asked.

“Just waiting for the line to clear,” you replied, forcing a nonchalant tone. The corner of his mouth twitched as he shook his head.

“Come on, Duch.” His fingers curled around yours, drawing you from the counter and into the line. Grabbing one of the smaller salad plates, you let him push you in front of him, taking small amounts of almost every dish while he served himself larger portions. After topping up your wine, you walked to the living room and felt him behind you, ignoring Georgia's attempt to get his attention. He motioned for you to take the last spot on the couch and sat on the floor. “Jesus,” he moaned after taking the first bite of turkey.

“Mmmm,” you agreed. “You did a good job.”

“Who would have thought the guy who made the barracks evacuate after he burned ramen would make a good turkey,” Nat smirked. Bradley flipped her off, unable to keep the proud grin off his face.

Dessert was eaten, and the last bottle of wine finished before 7:00 PM. The house felt quiet as it slowly emptied, and you hugged everyone goodbye. Already, tentative plans for a Christmas party formed even as you fought off a yawn. After assuring Penny that you were fine cleaning up, she left with Mav and Amelia in tow.

Which left only Bradley.

The sound of running water drew you back into the kitchen, and you paused in the doorway at the sight of him rinsing silverware and loading the dishwasher, a hand towel thrown over his shoulder. “I can take care of that,” you said quickly. Bradley glanced at you and shook his head.

“Relax, I’ve got it. Can the plates go in here, or do they need to be hand-washed?”

“They can go in there.” Ignoring the order, you walked around the house, picked up empty glasses and forgotten dishes, and set them by the sink. Donning your apron, you surveyed the leftovers, “Did you want any of this?”

“Yeah, I’ll take a plate.” Nodding, you started to put the food away. Thankfully, there wasn’t a lot left. Everyone had been happy to take leftovers, and you were glad you’d had the forethought to buy containers for them to keep.

The silence was comfortable, and you were stifling yawns with the back of your hand. Between the turkey, wine, and lack of sleep the night before, you were ready to change back into comfy clothes and pass out. Without prompting, Bradley started to cut up what was left of the turkey, placing some in the containers you’d portioned for him before putting the rest in the fridge. You started the dishwasher when it was full and wiped down counters. After tossing the rest of the turkey, he took the trash out.

When the door swung shut, you took the opportunity to stretch, moaning when your back popped before bending at the waist and letting your arms dangle. As much as you enjoyed hosting, your body took a beating, being on your feet all day. You would definitely need to invest in some mats to make the kitchen floor more comfortable before your next full day of cooking.

Even when the door opened, you felt too good stretching to stand up straight. You heard Bradley chuckle and then the sound of water running, followed by the snap of a trashbag being shaken out. Finally, you stood and threw out a hand to steady yourself when the world spun. Hands wrapped around your hips and drew you closer. “You okay, honey?”

The term of endearment caught you off-guard and had clearly slipped out by the flush on Bradley’s cheeks. “Honey?” you echoed, quirking a brow.

“Duchess,” he corrected.

“Rooster.” Your hands rested on his forearms, feeling the muscles flex as his fingers clenched around your hips. Taking a deep breath, you felt your chest brush his. His lips quirked into a wry smile. “What?”

“Just waiting for something to interrupt.” At your questioning look, he chuckled. “Been trying to kiss you all day, and something always gets in the way.”

“What?” you breathed, shock written across your face.

“Been thinkin’ about kissing you since that night at the Hard Deck, actually.”

“T-the Hard Deck?”

“Yup. Before you deployed.” Heat rushed to your face at the memory - or lack thereof - of your going away party. There had been one too many shots, and you had a vague recollection of Bradley driving the Bronco. Of him telling you not to throw up while he helped Nat into her apartment before taking you home. Half carrying you to bed and making sure you had water and medicine - warm hands on your face and a raspy laugh.

“When I was drunk?”

“When you told me you liked me.” Mortified, you felt a sudden flush of heat and tried to pull away, but he held firm. “But that you didn’t think I was a relationship guy.”

“Roo - ”

“I am. A relationship guy,” he clarified, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “For the right woman.” Your mouth was dry, unable to force out a single word. “I was gonna say something before you left, but you avoided me. And then you were gone for three months.”

“I… you messaged me.”

“Wasn’t exactly something I wanted to say over email,” Bradley chuckled. “I like you too.”

“What about Georgia?”

That drew him up short, and a confused look crossed his face. “The bartender?”

“Yeah. She… I mean, she’s clearly interested. And more your type.” Groaning, he leaned down to rest his forehead on yours.

“Honey, I’m not interested in her. And she’s not… ask Nat. She’s been on my case about my” - he lifted a hand to make air quotes - “‘hoe phase’ since I got out here.” That drew a snort from you, and Bradley pulled away to smile at you bashfully. “Gimme a chance, Duch.”

Hesitating a moment, you took another deep breath and gave the butterflies in your stomach free rein. Hands shaking, you wrapped your arms around his neck and nodded, unable to keep from matching his smile.

Moving slowly, as though afraid to spook you, Bradley leaned down and brushed his nose to yours. “As much as this is doin’ things for me,” he said softly, pulling at the apron strings tied at your stomach, “I think we’re done in the kitchen tonight.” Biting your lip, you could only nod, leaning away as he tugged it over your head, balled the apron up, and tossed it behind you. With his hands back on your hips, he walked you backward and lifted you onto the counter, stepping between your knees. “This alright?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, allowing yourself to reach out and run a hand through his curls. Bradley's eyes closed when you lightly scratched his scalp, and he swayed closer. His breath ghosted over your lips and -

“Fucking Christ,” he groaned when his phone started to buzz. You jumped, feeling the vibration against your shin, and laughed as he dropped his head into the crook of your neck. Your breath caught, feeling his lips on your throat. When he reached into his pocket and scowled down at the screen, you saw Nat’s name before he sent the call to voicemail.

Leaving the phone on the counter, he smirked and guided your legs around his waist as your arms went around his neck. His hands cupped your ass as he lifted you. In the doorway to the kitchen, he paused long enough for you to slap the walls until the lights turned off before walking toward the couch and lowering himself onto it. Your knees dug into the cushion on either side of him, forcing the hem of your dress higher.

From this angle, he had to look up at you. Hands migrated from your ass to thighs, callouses lightly scraping and fingertips darting under the fabric to trace shapes on your skin and drag the hem higher. Lightly, you ran your thumb along the scars on his chin before ghosting over the ones on his cheek that had always intrigued you. A moan rumbled from his throat as he followed your touch, mustache tickling the delicate skin of your wrist. Blushing, you wondered how it would feel on your inner thighs. He chuckled, kissing your cheek, “What’re you thinking that’s got you red?”

Rather than answer, you turned and kissed him - just a light brush of your lips against his that seemed to catch him off-guard. You stared at one another for a long moment until he guided you closer. His mustache prickled, not unpleasantly but different, when he kissed you again. It was sweet and unhurried, a direct contradiction to the hardness you felt straining against his zipper.

Pulling away, you smiled tentatively down at him, seeing the remnants of your lipstick on his mouth. The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and you leaned forward to press your lips to them. “Hi,” you said softly.

“Hey.”

“You like me?”

“Yeah. You like me?”

Rather than reply, you captured his lips again. “Drunk words,” you said between kisses, “are sober thoughts.” He barked a laugh before tugging you closer and licking into your mouth.

“Shoulda said something earlier,” he chided, gripping your ass tightly. “Coulda been doing this for a long time.”

“Blame the tequila.” The word came out as a moan when he trailed kisses down your neck, and you felt him smile.

“Thank god for tequila,” he mumbled, nuzzling your breasts and making you grind down on him. Bradley caught your hands when your fingers trailed down his chest to tug at his shirt. “Nuh-uh, honey. Gonna take you on a couple of dates before we get to that.”

“What?”

“No more ‘hoe phase.’”

“Maybe just one more night?” That made him laugh again as he shook his head.

“No, Duch. Wanna do this right with you.”

“I’ve heard the stories. I know you would.” When you rocked against him, he pinned your hand at your lower back and stilled you with a hand on your hip. He growled your name and smirked when your thighs clenched.

“Liked that, huh?” he teased. “Ms. Prim and Proper Duchess likes to be bossed around?” Heat flooded your face, and he chuckled again. Without warning, he stood, and you squeaked, trying to keep from falling. But he held you steady and set you on your feet, towering over you. “Can I stay over?” You didn’t hesitate in nodding, and his kiss was rough before he pulled away and swatted your ass. “Go get ready for bed while I lock up.”

When you emerged from the bathroom, face cleaned and in your panties and a tank top, Bradley was lying in the middle of your bed in just his boxers. Groaning, he looked at you and shook his head. “Where are those sweats from this morning?”

“You want me to wear sweats to bed?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe and raising an eyebrow. His hand drifted down to his hard cock, squeezing lightly. “You’ve seen me in less at the beach.”

“Trying to do this right, honey.” Rolling your eyes, you walked to your dresser and pulled on sweatpants before digging out a pair of fuzzy socks. He laughed when you tossed them at his head, setting them aside as you circled the bed to lie beside him. Quickly, he pinned you beneath him, settling in the cradle of your thighs. As he licked into your mouth, you felt his hips rolling against yours. “Still too damn sexy,” he murmured against your lips.

“Housewife lingerie does it for you?” you teased, running your hands through his hair. Rather than answer, he looped an arm under your knee and drew it up, allowing you to feel him better. “Fuck.”

“Not tonight.”

And, unfortunately, he was true to his word. Anytime your hands strayed to his boxers, he pinned them over your head, seemingly content to tease and kiss all night.

Eventually, though, you could no longer keep from yawning. After setting his alarm - Bradley was on duty in the morning while you’d taken the day off - he tucked you against him, your back to his chest. His cock pressed against your ass as he kissed your shoulder, hand slipping under your shirt to brush the underside of your breast. Sighing, he murmered, “Best Thanksgiving I’ve had in a long time.”

You couldn’t help but agree.

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

Author's Note: Do I think that Bradley has a raging domesticity kink? Possibly.

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