#//I DIE. TWO BRADLEYS!!!

[icantlivewithoutdreaming]

I’m… speechless.

I was so sure that he was alive, but after today’s panel I don’t know what to think anymore.

They were so sad. Michelle and Dee were on the verge of tears.

Also, 3rd and FINAL season? There is no way they are bringing Tech back if the story ends next year.

I don’t know what to do.

I’m gonna dedicate a post to Tech every single Wednesday, counting the weeks since we last saw him till we get him back.

I’m so sad.

[roosterforme]

Sugar and Lace | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Bradley had a hot wife. He went wild for you in your work clothes and his worn out shirts. You didn't need any bells and whistles to look sexy, and you never would. But now that he knew what you looked like in a little lace, he needed to have that version of you, too.

Warnings: Fluff, adult language, drinking

Length: 3000 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time but it can be read on its own! Check out my masterlist

Bradley looked at Jake over his beer, and Jake looked right back at him. The Hard Deck was virtually empty this early on a Saturday in the middle of the blazing summer heatwave, leaving the two of them very much alone together with their drinks.

"So..." Bradley said, tracing a line through the condensation on his half empty bottle. It wasn't that he disliked Jake. Not really. But he didn't know how many times he could be coerced into hanging out with him for the sake of you having a 'girls day'. It wasn't like he could complain about work to the person who annoyed the shit out of him at work yesterday.

"So..." Jake replied, picking up his drink and chugging it before signaling to Penny for two more. When he turned back, he had a smug little smile on his face that let Bradley know he was about to get annoyed again. "I'm assuming by the way your wife looks and how fucking pussy whipped you are that she has good taste in lingerie?"

Bradley sputtered, almost knocking his bottle off the high top. "Jesus fucking Christ, Hangman. What the hell kind of question is that?" He could feel heat rising in his cheeks at the memory of you prancing around the bedroom last weekend in a lacy tie dye bra and matching boy shorts. Everything you wore was sexy.

"That's obviously what they are out shopping for," Jake drawled, handing the empties to Penny as she dropped off fresh beers. Bradley waved two fingers in a half-hearted salute and then glared at Jake as he added, "Jessica specifically asked your wife to go with her. She told me she's picking out some things for the honeymoon, and you and I both know what that means. They are trying on lingerie." His smirk was back. "Together."

Bradley swallowed hard, digging his fist into his thigh. His teeth were clenched as he said, "Stop picturing my wife in lingerie."

All he got was a jovial laugh in response. "Tell me right now to my face that you're not picturing both of them wearing something tight, cropped and lacy, and I'll stop."

Bradley raked his fingers through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut against the mental image of you and Jessica in a cute little fitting room, laughing together. "God damn it, Hangman!"

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

You and Jessica were crammed into a fitting room together, trying not to laugh at the enormous stacks of cute things to try on. Your pile was on the left side of the decorative bench, and hers was on the right. You knew that Jessica Reed happened to collect lingerie in every color imaginable, but she was on a quest to find some unique things to take on her honeymoon. And you were on a quest to wow your husband with something more than a bra and boy shorts for once. 

Not that he complained. Not that he ever complained. Bradley went absolutely feral for you in your damn work clothes and loafers. He about lost his mind when you wore his ratty, old tie dye tee shirt to bed. He often sounded like he was going to need CPR when you put on his bathrobe and nothing else. It was hard to contain your smile when you just knew that something in this fitting room was going to blow his mind to the point that he would be rendered speechless.

"Try something on," Jessica suggested gently, and you took a step closer to your pile. "Then you'll get a better idea of what you like." 

There was red, green, black, white and pink fabric. There were nightgowns, thongs, bralettes and stockings. When you reached your hand out, you hesitated, confidence wavering. This seemed a lot more challenging than solving a linear algebra matrix.

Jessica whispered, "You'll look beautiful in anything, Advanced Calculus. I can promise you that." When you kind of shrugged in response, she said, "Do you want me to wait in line for my own fitting room so you can have more privacy?"

The two of you already agreed to help each other make selections, and the last thing you wanted was to keep opening the door so everyone else could see you wearing this stuff. "No. It's not that. I just... don't really own anything like this. I mean, I have a few things, but some of this is elaborate." You glanced at her over your shoulder and winced. "And this was supposed to be a shopping trip for you! For your honeymoon! Not for me."

She shushed you and then reached into your pile and pulled out a fairly innocuous looking nightie in a soft champagne color. "Start with this. Then you'll see how hot you look, and it'll be a gateway drug to you starting your own collection that will rival mine."

"I've seen your closet," you muttered, taking the hanger from her and holding the garment up in front of your body. It was pretty. The color even complimented your hair. It was a far cry from what you usually wore to bed, but you'd give it a shot.

When you started to undress, Jessica turned around and played with her phone, which you did appreciate. All of your bumps and lumps would be on display soon enough anyway, but at least you'd have a minute to straighten yourself out. The fabric was cool and slick against your skin, and you shivered as it settled high on your thighs. When you looked in the mirror and turned, you were pleasantly surprised with the result.

"It's not bad," you said, and she looked up and gasped, green eyes wide.

"It's perfect!"

"I wouldn't go that far," you muttered, smoothing your hands along your sides.

"Well, I would. And I'm sure Bradley would, too. Do you want me to take a picture on your phone?" she asked, and you nodded while she posed you with one hand on your hip. "Like I said, perfect," she muttered as she took the photo and then set your phone down again. "Try on something else."

"Okay," you whispered, reaching blindly into your pile and pulling out a black lace corset top.

Jessica jumped up and down and clapped her hands. "I love that one. I picked one up to try it on, too."

"I don't know about this," you said, holding it up in front of the nightie. "Not sure how Beer Boy is going to like it."

"You won't know until you try it on."

With those words of wisdom, you changed from the nightie to the corset, and your immediate thought was how cute this would look under your sweaters and tweed when you were at work. And it would feel amazing. It was snug and sexy, and somehow you felt like you could kick even more ass at work if you were wearing this thing.

"What the hell?" you whispered, and Jessica turned to look at you, clapping her hands once again. "I feel like I have super powers."

"Because you do! Look at you! Please let me take another picture of you to send to Bradley."

This time you posed yourself and turned so your tattoos were visible through the lace cutout on the side. Then you stood there and admired yourself before saying, "I'm definitely buying this. Catch me wearing it to work under my cardigans in the fall."

Jessica started digging into her own pile now as you changed from the corset into a bodysuit, but when she met your eyes in the mirror, she looked like she was going to freak out.

"What?" you asked. "The bodysuit looks that bad?"

She shook her head, and pressed her lips together before almost shouting, "When were you going to tell me you have a math tattoo?"

"Oh," you replied, not sure you'd ever heard her voice reach that octave before. "Euler's Identity? I've had it since I was nineteen."

"I love how you embrace your inner nerd," she said as if she was in awe of you, and you started laughing which made her laugh. "Now send those pictures to your husband and let that man worship you."

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

Bradley had just buried his face in his hands while Jake laughed when his phone went off. You hadn't even bothered to inform him that your little 'girls day outing' was a quest to make sure Jake enjoyed his honeymoon with Jessica. Honestly, Bradley kind of hoped the other man was correct in his assessment that you'd be shopping for something for yourself, too. Not that you needed it. Holy shit, you still looked like the girl he fell in love with over a decade ago whenever you wore his old Grateful Dead shirt or his robe around the house.

But now he wanted something special, too. Why should Jake get to have all the fun when it came to having his partner all wrapped up in a pretty package that was specifically meant to be removed?

"Sugar," he grunted when he saw that you'd texted him. Jake was rambling about something across the table, but Bradley couldn't hear him. He could no longer hear anything. He couldn't process thoughts or form words. All he could do was stare at the two photos you'd sent to him. "Oh, fuck."

In the first one, you were wearing a shimmery light gold colored thing that looked soft. Like maybe almost as soft as your skin. His heart hammered up into his ears as he examined every inch of it on your curves. Your nipples were pebbled against the fabric, and he could practically feel them between his lips. When he swiped to look at the second one, he abruptly stood from his stool with his phone gripped tight in his hand, eyes bugging out.

"Let me guess... your wife sent you photos?" Jake asked, clearly amused.

Instead of verbally responding, Bradley made sure his phone was tipped away from Jake as he zoomed in for a closer look. Holy hell. Your tits were being pushed up in the sexiest black lace he had ever seen. It was sinful, and now he was imagining you wearing it under one of your tweed blazers while giving a lecture. He swallowed hard, realizing he could see the tiniest bit of your tattoos through the little cutout on the side, and he actually whimpered.

"Yeah... she definitely sent you photos," Jake murmured as his own phone chimed. "Oh, Jess just sent me five."

"How did you get five?" Bradley complained, swiping back and forth, desperately looking for more. "I only got two!" 

It was then that he noticed you texted him after you sent the pictures.

What do you think, Beer Boy?

Bradley laughed a bit maniacally. What did he think about the lingerie? Ha! He could barely think at all! He paced back and forth a bit, sweating as he wrote back.

You look fucking hot as hell, Sugar. If you don't bring that black top home, I think you'll break my heart.

Bradley cringed, because now Jake was the one who was whimpering. "They're sharing a fitting room," he whispered, and Bradley's eyes went wide with the realization that Jessica must have taken the photos for you. Then his eyes narrowed as he reached for Jake's phone.

"You better not be able to see Sugar in any of the pictures!"

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

You and Jessica were wearing matching fluffy robes and sorting through everything you'd already tried on.

"You have to get that thing," you told her, pointing to the garters and stockings. "It fits you like a glove."

She nodded and added it to her 'yes' pile. "And you have to get the thong and bustier," she replied.

"I'm already buying four things," you reminded her. The bustier was nice, and your breasts looked good in it, but you didn't love the color very much. Besides, there was one last thing you hadn't tried on for fear of looking or feeling ridiculous, but there was a part of your brain that just knew your husband would love it.

"Missed one!" Jessica said, pulling on the bright pink fabric like she could read your mind. Always the best cheerleader, she held it up in front of your body and nodded. "It's bold, but I think you can pull it off."

You took it from her, but looked at yourself skeptically in the mirror. "I don't know... it's going to look bad. Like I'm trying too hard. I don't know why I even picked it up."

But you did know. Bradley was attracted to you in that dumb tie dye shirt like you were some sort of exotic bird whenever you put it on. All of the bright colors swirled into something that just lured him right to you. Part of it was nostalgia, sure, but you felt like there was something more as well.

"Actually, I do know why I picked it up," you told Jessica, holding the chemise closer to yourself. "Bradley really likes it when I wear his old shirt that I kind of held hostage for ten years. It's vibrant and bright, and I think this is the sort of thing he might enjoy?" You pursed your lips and sighed. "But, maybe I'm wrong, because he also just seems to like me how I am. No frills, you know? He's always been that way."

Jessica smiled. "Yes, I understand. And I hope you realize that you just described a man who is desperately in love with you, not just how you look. Sounds like the kind of man you should spoil a little bit." She tugged gently on the chemise and added, "This is a far cry from a tee shirt, but you won't know how you feel about it until you try it on."

"You're right."

Once you were out of the robe, you pulled the stretchy lace over your body, and gaped at the deep neckline as Jessica tied the satin ribbons around the back of your neck. You hadn't noticed before, but there were some yellow and orange threads woven in, making delicate swirls in the fabric. Almost like a different kind of tie dye. It actually looked stunning on you, and as you turned from side to side, you already knew you had to have it.

"I'm obsessed," Jessica said, bouncing excitedly as she clapped her hands together. "Should I take one last round of photos for you to send to Bradley?"

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

Bradley was lightheaded. He sweat through his shirt, and he had his forehead cradled in his hand as he opened three photos of you wearing something so bright and pink and sexy, he wanted to lick it off of you. Everything was covered up, but barely. In the one shot, he could almost see your ass. In another, he could definitely see your pert nipples. In the other one, he could make out part of your titty tattoos.

It was a good thing Jake was staring at his own phone in amazement, because Bradley was pretty sure he was drooling and incapable of formulating a sentence. He had already written back to you, begging you to buy the pink thing. Telling you he needed it. Letting you know he wanted to peel is slowly off of your body in bed later. In fact, the last thing he sent was 'Buy everything in that whole fucking store, money is no object'. And he meant every word. 

Bradley had been crazy about you for so long, and most of the appeal came from how smart you are and the fact that you weren't fussy. You let him dote on you in your work outfits. You wore his clothing around the house. You didn't need all the bells and whistles to be sexy, and you never would.

But now that he knew exactly what you looked like in black satin and colorful lace, he needed to have that version of you, too. He needed it.

"Since when does your wife have tattoos?"

Those words snapped Bradley out of his lust filled stupor, and his brown eyes bore into Jake's green ones. How did he know about your titty tattoos? When his gaze drifted back to his phone, he turned the screen toward Bradley with a grin. Apparently you had taken a photo of Jessica, in which your reflection was visible in the fitting room mirror. You were wearing a bra, and you were as covered up as you would be for a beach day, but Bradley loathed the idea of Jake having any sort of access to those tattoos.

"Hey!" Jake complained as Bradley snatched the phone and deleted the photo. "What the fuck, Bradshaw? I wanted that picture of Jessica! You could have just cropped it."

"Hey, boys!"

Bradley turned in time to toss Jake's phone aside as Jessica headed through the nearly empty bar with you following behind her. There were two enormous shopping bags in your hands, and you had a smile on your face as you asked, "Ready to go home, Beer Boy?"

"Hell yes," he murmured, closing the distance to your lips and kissing you hard. "Did you buy that pink thing? And the black one?"

His hands wound around your waist possessively, and he got even more excited as you tucked the bags behind your back and whispered, "There's only one way to find out."

Bradley started guiding you to the door. "Yeah. We're going home. Right now." He ran his nose along your cheek and gave you one more sweet kiss before shouting over his shoulder, "Thanks for the beers, Bagman. Oh, and Jessica, I need you to crop your photos better next time you take my wife shopping."

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

I love Beer Boy for making Sugar feel so good about herself every day. She's a badass, and he knows it. I wrote this as a little wedding treat for @je-suis-prest-rachel Congratulations, Rachel! And thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls

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[bee-wg]

Year 3:

Now that I think about it, football has been a constant in my life for five years now. I’m not sure if I enjoy football anymore; it used to be about the fun we have passing the ball, now it’s all about the stats or the perfect form. 

I stood up from the bleachers to hand Brad his towel.

“I’m going to leave the team, Brad,” I said.

“What? Where did this come from?” He said frantically.

“Everyone knows I’m still on the team because you’re the team’s captain now,” I said.

“I don’t want to cause tension between you and Coach. There’s nothing I could do wobbling around the field anyway,” I added.

“Dude, you know I started playing football because of you, right?” Brad said.

“Bradley, relax. I’m not dead. You can come over to my house whenever you want.” I said.

“Theo can make you some lemon pudding cakes if you want to come,” hopefully this will calm him.

“Fine. Just so you know, I’m not happy about this,” he said, sounding like a brat.

“Okay, got it. Have fun at the party,” I chuckled.

“I won’t. I’m going to make the DJ play Lana Del Rey,” he said before entering the locker room.

There might be an oversight of me quitting football.

It’s literally the reason why I quit. I don’t know why it never crossed my mind.

How the fuck am I going to lose weight now?

“Maybe I would’ve thought it if the word, “exercise” was anywhere on my to-do list this past year,” the voice from the back of my head said.

Shut up, rational thought. I was just a little too cocky, that’s all.

My mind spins around the paths I could take to shed the fat.

Back to the gym for the bodybuilders to laugh at me jiggling like a puddle of slime on the treadmill.

No. Hard no.

Stop eating whatever Theo puts in front of my face.

Productive, but I’d rather die than miss out on the joy of the world.

Post my weight loss journey edits on social media, reminiscing on my rock-hard abs like a depressed, fat person.

No? No, actually it might just work.

My thumbs got to work. It took me an hour to choose a profile picture that represents me. I could go for a vacation photo by the beach, or the classic black and white moody gym pic. Except, I don’t have a picture of myself on my phone, so I chose the picture of an orange cat eating a banana.

With my camera set up, in my favourite green tank top. I pressed record.

It was an embarrassing experience editing myself, watching my belly sway every time I made a movement. In the end, I closed my eyes and uploaded the video.

“Oh! First comment already.” I said.

“Look at those milkers spilling out the tanks!”

3. Post my weight loss journey edits on social media, reminiscing on my rock-hard abs like a depressed, fat person.

The following weeks consisted of me eating my feelings. At least half of my classes are online this semester. I can be embarrassed in peace.

The pounds kept creeping up with each spoon of ice cream down my throat. In the blink of an eye, I am dangerously close to 300 pounds.

I finally worked up the courage to ask during a normal family dinner.

“Honey, what happened? You’re not eating as fast as usual. Is Theo not cooking enough?” Mom asked.

“No, Mom, I just…I just hope you guys can ease up with your little cooking competitions.”

“Oh honey, you know Theo and I will stop with the food whenever you ask.” Mom tries to reassure me.

“No! Obviously don’t stop the food. It’s just that I’ve been blowing up like a pig and I don’t know what to do about it.” I said.

“I didn’t know you were sad about it. I just want my family to be happy, you look the happiest when you eat,” Mom said

“It wouldn’t have helped when you guys lost for the past two years,” Mom added.

“Well, Dad likes to eat better, and no one eats like him,” I replied. 

“I’m sure my cooking was the reason we won. David is a gym teacher, he walks off the food easily,” Mom said.

“Theo is a professional though, no offence but no one on the planet cooks like him. I’m sure football was the reason we lost,” I said, trying to talk some sense into her.

Theo stares at us with wide eyes.

“Jacob, I’m sure you didn’t mean it,” Mom said with a blank face.

“You know what? Keep doing your competition, this time again next year we’ll see who’s the winner,” I said.

I am clearly a failure at losing weight. The only thing I’m good at is eating. If I’m going to gain weight anyway, I’m going to go all out and win this shit once and for all. Once this is settled, I can get back to normal. Not wanting to disappoint Theo when we lose again was probably the thing holding me back. I can’t wait to eat all the delicious things Theo is- I can’t wait for this to be over.

“Alright, Jay,” she turned to Theo and said.

“Theo, my boy. I’m looking forward to seeing the results next year,” Mom said with a determined smile.

Everyone knows not to mess with Mom when she has that look. Even then, I feel like we could still win. Theo’s food is hypnotic already when I am restrained; imagine what it will do to me when I’m going all out.

“What’s going on again?” Dad asked with cheeks full of pasta.

“Don’t worry baby, you just need to eat a little more next year,” Mom answered.

“Okay, as long as I get my lasagnas,” Dad said.

Later at night, struggling to sleep, I contemplated on the bad decisions I’ve made. This one might take the crown to be the stupidest thing I’ve done. Yet, I don’t regret it.

“You didn’t have to stand up for me,” Theo said.

“It’s the least I can do when you wake up early to prep for my food, or go off on the weekends for groceries when you could’ve been doing anything else,” I explained.

“Thank you so much, Jay. You don’t know how much this means to me. My family wanted me to do anything other than cooking, but you guys have been nothing but supportive,” he said.

I smiled at the ceiling. The gremlin is nicer than I remember.

“Now, I won’t allow you to slack anymore with the amount you’re eating. Not until the competition ends.”

Huh?

Theo had stuck to his word and increased the amount he was cooking. I am now eating the amount of three people in each spread-out meal, still lacking behind Dad’s impressive five person’s amount per meal. So I have been playing catch up with him this entire month.

I realized quickly that I had underestimated the gap between Dad and my appetite. In the last few years, for the most part, I have been eating whatever I want, leaving the rest to Dad. With the exception of eating for the team once a week, I have been slacking. That was quite a hard pill to swallow. I’m 300 pounds, yet not doing a good job as a fatass. How is that possible?

So far I have gained about 23 pounds in the past two months. Normally, I would freak out and have a breakdown in bed because I’ve gained more than my freshman year in two months. Right now with my messed up head, all I can think about is how far I am behind. If we lose this again, it would be once and for all, and I would never let myself live this down. Theo deserves better with how good he’s been treating me.

With my new bulk, the stairs have been an increasing challenge. So, a few weeks ago I moved downstairs to a tiny guest room that was converted to a storage room.

The moment I moved down, I could hear Theo’s voice yelling, “Yes, Finally! Goodbye insomnia,” In my old bedroom. Before, I would’ve yelled for the brat to shut up. Now, with my stomach full. I just wanted a nap in peace.

It took me no time to adjust to the new arrangement. With more time home from all the online classes, I get to be as lazy as I want. Dad has a similar arrangement at home. He retired from being a high school gym teacher and football coach, now he tutors history at home. He also abandoned his hobby of brewing in order to laze on the sofa all day.

On weekdays, Theo would leave an abundance of food for me to consume with a list of how I should eat them to expand my capacity. The weekends are like heaven. From the moment I woke up, Theo would prepare delicious appetizers and pancakes for me. From then on, I would have a constant stream of food flowing into my mouth every thirty minutes. Sometimes, I would move my hands and my mouth would start to chew unconsciously. Alarming, but helpful. 

My belly started to expand outwards on my lap each day as I sat in front of the computer. The arm rest would feel more snug when I move around.

I have now discovered the perks of being a fatass. I can explore things I never had time to do, like the anime Brad has been begging me to watch, games I always wanted to play. Best of all is to experience all of these without moving an inch. These are the things I would definitely look back on with fondness when the competition ends.

***

Today is my rare outing of the month; the bus is late again but I don’t blame them this time. The downpour of rain is gathering at the clogged sewer, creating a puddle. People are supposed to grow out of stepping in puddles when they’re kids. These undeveloped assholes apparently didn’t. Several cars saw the puddle and decided to splash it straight to my face.

It’s fine. It’s all fine. I will feel better later.

I walked a small trail after getting off the bus.

Great. The angels decide to stop peeing from the heavens when I’m about to get inside.

Dad is buying a new SUV, maybe I can drive it next time. It’s too big to sneak off though.

I thought as I skipped through the stone pathway. The usual grass is covered by the water, creating a small pond.

“Annyeonghaseyo,” I said to the door cam.

After pressing the doorbell several times, it replied.

"안녕, fuck boy. Back so soon?" Number Seven said.

“Yeah, yeah. Just open the damn door,” I said, trying to hurry the fucker.

Number Seven’s face appears in front of me.

“You’re soaked! Come on in,” he said.

His house appears to be orderly. Clean. He must’ve had another fatass here not long ago.

“Woah, you look—Wait, let me guess. Another fifteen pounds since last time?” He asked.

“Come on, let’s cut to the chase. I really need it right now,” I urged.

“Hahaha, not even a shower. Desperate much?” He said.

I walked inside his bedroom, dimmed the lights and took off my shirt.

He walked towards me. Grabbing me by the belly hang in one hand, he pulls down my underwear, causing my ass to vibrate.

“Fuuuuck, can you take it out first?” I asked, trying not to moan.

“Sure, you think you’re ready for me today?” He asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” I answered. 

He slid his hand behind, right down my ass crack and slowly pulled the vibrator off. I applied it before leaving home, without accounting for the possibility of the bus delay.

“Mmmmph, fuck,” I groaned.

I’ve been training towards today for a while. In the beginning, I would come to his house and he would suck me off. If I’m feeling experimental, I would suck him off. It stayed like that for about a year and he never complained. Then I asked him for more. He would start fucking me between my moobs or between my ass but never enter. One day, I told him I was ready for him to start fucking me.

Big mistake.

He’s a manwhore for a reason. I didn’t think an 8-inch would be so hard to take. How the girls and twinks take them in porn is beyond me. It was painful when he entered, even when he said he had “loosened my hole” with his fingers. I shouldn’t have believed him, the fucking thing was massive.

After the incident, he gave me small dildos and vibrators to get used to it. We eventually worked our way up the scale until the one he’s holding now. Why did I do all this work to have a men’s dick in my ass? Who knows. I have already accepted that I’ve lost it.

He sucked on my nipple suddenly. The sensation took me by surprise.

“Dude, some warnings please,” I asked.

“Yeah, sorry. Those tits are just so plumped. Your nipples have grown larger than my thumbs now,” he said, about to continue.

“OKAY, I get it. Can you get to work now?” I asked.

My boobs are what everyone thinks about when they see me these days. I’m sick of it.

“Hahahaha, can’t wait to be fucked, my pig?” He said before pushing me down the mattress.

I held my belly to stop it from jiggling. 

He raised one of my legs and opened the bottle of lube with his teeth.

“There’s something by the pillow. Put it in your mouth. It will distract you and dull the initial pain,” Number Seven instructed.

I reached out to grab a—frosted pound cake?

I’ve never seen people doing this in porn, but I’m smart enough to know not everything in porn is real. 

With my mouth full of cake, I spread out my legs, trying to relax so I don’t end up like last time.

He pushed two fingers in, slowly massaging me, then three fingers to stretch my hole. When the frosting melted in my mouth and I finished the chunk of the cake, he signalled me that he was done.

Another piece of the pound cake fills my mouth when he aligns his cock to my hole. He was right, I was fully consumed by the sweetness to notice any discomfort. I quickly swallowed the cake so he could proceed. 

It was unbearably slow as he entered. I don’t understand what all the fuss is about with people bottoming.

He kept asking for reassurance. At this point I just want him to st—

“A-ahhhh oh shiiit!” I moaned.

“Fuuuuuck, what the hell was that?” I screamed.

I must have been too loud and spooked him.

“Are you alright? Sh-should I call an ambulance?” He asked.

“No! Don’t stop, please,” I begged

“Okay, just so you know, I’m not all the way in,” He said.

How? This is already longer than any toys I’ve put in there.

“Gnghhhhh~” I moaned as he thrusts all the way to the bottom.

He kept a steady pace all the way in then almost all the way out, leaving me feeling empty.

“Hurry! Faster,” I asked, almost in tears.

He looked at me with a devious smile and thrust right into the spot.

“Mphn- Yes! Keep going,” I urged.

Every small movement rubbing my G-spot feels like masturbating for hours without release.

He thrusts quicker with more force, causing my belly and moobs to shake violently. 

I try to stabilize my belly with my hand before trying to reach my throbbing cock.

“Help, I-aghh fuck, I need to touch my dick,” I asked.

“Let go of your belly, fat boy. Or I’ll stop,” He said.

Immediately, my belly returned to wobble violently.

“I can’t believe you turned into such a pathetic horny mess in such a short time,” He said.

”Come on, Seven. I just need you to hit that spot. Please, I’ll do anything!” I begged.

He keeps deliberately missing it. I need to be fucked there!

“Keep your hands on your nipples,” he ordered.

The over-sensitive nipples drive my weeping cock into a frenzy.

Fuck, I need to touch my cock right now. If only my fucking belly is not on the way.

“You know, when I first saw you, I thought you were the kind of jock to gain a beer belly in college, and not get fat until you turn thirty,” he said, before ramming straight into my prostate.

“Fuuuuck yeahhh,” I said unintelligently. 

“You are much more of a pig than I realized,” he said, thrusting straight into it again.

“Helll yeahhh,” I said, trying to rob my ass to his dick.

“How do you feel seeing your bubble butt balloons four times the original size?” He asked, followed by another thrust. 

“I fucking love it! I love how it wobbles around whenever I walk!” I said, moving my jiggling ass back to his dick again.

“How do you feel seeing your abs growing before your eyes, knowing you could stop it if you just stop eating?”Another thrust.

“I can’t help it! I love eating too much!” Maybe I am meant to be a fat ass.

“Right answer. Now you’ll get your reward,” he said and sped up, hitting the spot perfectly every time.

I imagine his face to be someone else, someone far from my league.

My cock rubbed against my sensitive underbelly, and I shot out jets of cum for what felt like forever.

As white clouded my vision, a euphoric relief spread over my body, melting me into the mattress.

“You passing out again, fuck boy?” Seven asked.

“No, just enjoying the bliss. I can’t believe so many men in the world are missing out on this,” My hole already feels empty. How am I going to go back from this?

“Aww man, I’m all sticky and shit,” I examined my body, cum shots and rain definitely don’t mix well together. Some of them even got between the fat folds. I swipe my finger in between the fat. “Oof, I stink too.”

Seven looked at me and signed. “You’re somehow still a stupid jock inside.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“I got you the fast food you asked for,” he said.

“Yes!” I rushed to the kitchen.

Ignoring his stupid laugh, I microwaved the burger and fries.

The breeze of the air conditioning reminds me of something.

“Shit, I ran out here naked.”

When I ran back, he had already put my clothes in the dryer, and I got into the shower.

When I got out, Seven brought me an old shirt I left here. It fits me like a glove with half my belly exposed. He stopped laughing when I was about to throw myself on him, then brought out a shirt with the Flash’s symbol on. Probably from another fat ass he fucks. The shirt still looks painted on, revealing the shape of my nipple and the dent of my belly button. At least he’s driving me home.

***

Staying at home has been a life-altering experience. 

The only time I ever move is going out of the bed to the desk, or to the bathroom. All I have to do is sit back, relax, and eat some fried food. 

With more time with myself. I’ve realized how much I dislike all the people in school that only approached me because I was one of the football jocks. I could’ve been anyone. Now, I am me. Not a worry about whether or not I’m muscular enough like other jocks, just a bigger Jay.

Sitting beside me, Dad scratched his belly and released a belch without a care in the world. He has adapted to fat guy mannerisms quickly. I’m catching up too. Today is movie night, usually we have pizzas and beers. We started this when the football season came, he asked to skip it. It was the first time we’ve skipped watching a Super Bowl season. I guess I’m not the only one losing interest in the sport. We decided to watch the Lin-Manuel Miranda Monkey movie instead.

Being on the couch with Dad made me realize I was getting closer to my goal. I can’t wait to see the results.

***

“Hell yeah, my man, you can do it!” Brad said, slapping my shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” I asked

“You said I can come in whenever I like,” he replied.

He’s been breaking into my house for no reason, just to stay on the second floor the entire time doing god knows what.

“I’ve brought some beef jerky here to celebrate,” Brad said.  

The scale has been set up, we’re only waiting on Mom. They’re doing some last minute catch up; mom is using a funnel to pour some milkshake in him. I am not concerned though, sticking to Theo’s strict diet every day has not been easy. I have to eat until my stomach is fully bloated. Every morning, I watch my belly deflate a little less, every evening, it bloats even further. 

“Don’t worry, Jay. We’ve got this,” Theo assured me.

“By the way, what are we doing again?” Brad asked.

Dad came out, looking absolutely massive. With Mom on his side, he stepped on the scale.

The numbers keep going up and don't seem to be stopping.

300-350-392-400-443

Holy shit, Dad gained a hundred and forty pounds this year. 

With more uncertainty, I took my step on the scale.

“Woo-Hoo, Jay man, you got this!” Brad shouted quietly.

I try to look under to see the number, but my belly is too big for me to see the scale.

Theo stepped closer and read. 

“Four Hundred and fifty yes!” Theo cheered.

“I won? Yes, finally!” I said and did a little jump.

The scale made a “Pop” noise.

“Oh! Sorry, Mom. I know this is really expensive.”

“Don’t worry, sweetie. We need to upgrade anyway,” Mom said, then she walked towards Theo.

“Congratulations Theo, you made me pull out every trick in my book. It’s so nice seeing you improve so much in front of my eyes, in terms, you pushed me to improve too,” Mom said, then hugged Theo.

“I can’t believe my boy is bigger than me now. Excellent work, Jay!” Dad said and hugged me, too.

Last time I was bigger than Dad I had sculpted abs, the body I dreamed of. This time, I’m almost three times the size as I was, fully covered with fat. Yet, I feel less empty inside.

“Thank you Dad,” I said, hugging him back. 

After all this time, I finally have a body I like being in. The belly doesn't look so wrong on me anymore.

Chapter 4 ->

[thoughtswhispered]

I love FMA:B just as much as the next person, but something that does bother me just a little bit in the switch from manga to anime is how they almost erase how gentle and kind Riza is with the kids.

Like these two moments with Winry and Al, they were completely taken out of the show, and while her moment with Winry doesn't hold much weight compared to her moment with Al, it still takes away from the fact that they were showing Riza's gentle side - which rarely gets shown in the anime.

I think her moment with Al definitely needed to make the show, not only does it foreshadow what is about to happen with Lust, but it's one of the first times that someone other than Ed reassures Al that he's important to what they're doing and not just important to Ed. And shows that she is confident in and trusts his abilities enough to depend on him, which Al probably needed to hear.

Coupled with Riza gently touching his chest plate, and Al's embarrassed little head rub, I think adding this moment would've only made Al's speech about not wanting to feel powerless when people die when they could've protected them even stronger.

Then with Ling and Lan Fan, the moments are smaller, but Riza is just as kind and gentle. It barely takes anything for Ling to convince her to stop and get Lan Fan, even when they are going full speed through the middle of a city, Bradley is looking for Ling and Lan Fan, and they have a homunculus tied up in the back of Riza's car.

Even when Riza is helping Dr. Knox clean up Lan Fan's amputation, in the manga, she's just gentler.

Compare this to Lan Fan having the rag in her mouth instead of Riza holding on her head, making sure Lan Fan is covered, and even the way Riza holds her shoulders is different.

And when they are piling up in the car to get away from Gluttony, in the anime they had Al take the time to ask Riza to take care of Lan Fan, which was so unnecessary. In the manga Riza just does it.

While Ed and Roy are arguing, Riza just says "Here, Lan Fan." then climbs in the back with her and cradles Lan Fan's head in her lap. None of these are much different from what they do in the anime, but I think it's enough to take away from showing Riza's soft side, especially her soft side to the younger characters.

[mynameismckenziemae]

Picture Perfect

Bob Floyd x female reader

Prompt: Imagine Bob receiving spicy Polaroids of his bride on his wedding day from @phoenix-rising-starbird-one 😘

Summary: You do just that ^ and have to deal with the consequences 😏

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! 18+ ONLY.

Warnings: This is pure smut. Dom!Bob, teasing, spanking, humiliation, spanking, dacryphilia, orgasm delay/denial, taking dirty photos, p in v, etc.

*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•.

“Oh my God,” Natasha laughs as she flips through the small handful of Polaroids you just handed her, “these turned out so good! Look at you,” she brings one closer to her face to get a better look, “that’s the lingerie set I got you! Bob is going to die!”

Some of them were taken at your bachelorette party, some this morning when you were getting ready. Taken in the positions he likes you best; bent over, on your knees, looking up between your thighs.

“Give a few to Bradley and Jake, too. Oh, there they are,” you spot the boys as you look out the window of your dressing home, “Wow, look at him,” you breathe, seeing him in his tux, handsome as ever. “Go now, now’s a good time.”

Bob is talking to the wedding planner when Nat gets down to the courtyard where the men are congregating.

Bradley’s laughing about something Jake says before he presses a kiss to his cheek; their wedding is coming up next month. You watch as Natasha approaches them with a conniving look on her face. She discreetly hands them each a couple of the photos and gives them instructions before turning toward Bob.

You smile as they hug each other; so much is being said without words. They talk for a moment before Natasha hands him her photos before patting him on the back and walking away.

He watches her, confused, until he looks down at the photo. His face turns beet red before he looks up a the sky for help.

*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•.

Bradley’s next. He places his photos into Bob’s hand discreetly just as the photographer finishes up with the groomsmen's pictures.

Bob gulps before he looks down at your body in various states of undress in suggestive positions. Bradley and Jake grin as Bob slowly flips through the photos, flushing further with each one.

*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•.

The photographer finds you next, taking your bridal portraits before hiding you back away in the dressing room.

There’s a text from Bob when you check your phone. Reading it sends a pulse of desire through you before settling between your thighs.

Bob: You are in so much trouble.

You: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Bob: I’ll be sure to remind you.

*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•.

You figure you missed seeing Jake give Bob his photos, but right before Jake escorts Natasha down the aisle, he shows you them in his hand and winks.

Bob’s widen in disbelief when Jake slides the photos into his hand as they do that handshake/hug thing men do. He looks down at photos quickly before sliding them into his pocket with the others.

The heat leaves his expression though when your guests rise and he sees you for the first time.

*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•.

You’re officially ��Mrs. Floyd’ and can’t keep the smile off your face as you walk hand in hand down the aisle. The naughty photos forgotten with your newly-wedded bliss.

After the photographer steals the two of you away during the cocktail hour, Bob leads you away from the reception hall.

“Where are we going?” You ask, “Dinner starts in 30 minutes.”

“In here,” He finds your dressing room and ushers you inside, making you instantly remember the photos when he locks the door. You whimper as he turns to you with a dark, heated look.

Your eyes widen and look around in a panic as if there’s somewhere to hide in the wide open room.

He’s onto you before you can even attempt to flee. He pulls you against him, hard and pressing on your stomach while he kisses you roughly with teeth and tongue, distracting you as he walks backward to the couch by the window where you watched him earlier.

Suddenly the world spins and the next thing you know, you’re splayed over Bob’s knees.

“What-what are you doing?” You ask breathily, looking over your shoulder at him, face burning.

You knew there would be a price to pay for your little stunt, but you figured it would be after the festivities tonight, or tomorrow when you get to the hotel for your honeymoon. Surely he’s not going to spank you now, not with all your guests waiting downstairs?

“Your mascara is waterproof, right?” He ignores your question to ask his while he pulls the silky white material of your gown up over your butt. “Fuck,” he whispers when he exposes your soaked lingerie.

“Yes,” you whimper as his fingertips brush the white lace underwear, “why?”

“Wouldn’t want to ruin your makeup when I make you cry,” he murmurs as he tugs your underwear to your thighs.

“Wh-oh!” Your question gets cut off by your gasp as his big, rough hand lands on your ass.

Bob usually drags your spankings out; warming your skin up first, rubbing the sting out between swats, dipping his fingers between your legs to tease your clit and finger your holes while he scolds you for getting so wet, making you count out loud…

But not this time.

This time, he’s merciless. Spanking you over and over with harsh, stinging slaps that steal the breath from your lungs. You’re biting your lip so hard you’re afraid you might draw blood from the effort to stay quiet.

“Been married for an hour and already over my knee,” he sounds so disappointed, but his cock is telling you different; he’s harder than ever against your side.

Tears begin to well in your eyes as he focuses his attention on the lower part of your ass, making sure you feel it every time you sit down for the next few hours as he repeatedly spanks your sit spots, making you squirm as it gets to be too much. Yet your arousal coats your thighs.

The tears start to spill over and your ass is on fire when he finally relents. He’s breathing hard as he guides you onto the couch; propping you over the arm with your knees on the cushions.

You gasp when you hear the click of the camera a moment later

“I think I’ll add these to the ones you gave me today,” he chuckles, “look at me, I wanna capture your sad little pout and those alligator tears, pairs nicely with the redness of your ass.”

You whimper, pussy clenching in need at his words. Your face heats with humiliation as you turn your head to face him, resting your head over your crossed arms.

Another flash and click of the camera before the cushion dips behind you. There’s a moment of fumbling before he guides the head of his thick cock through your arousal and pushes inside.

Your cry is muffled by your arms as he bottoms out inside you, not giving you time to adjust before he pulls out to do it again.

“You think you can get away with teasing me all day Mrs. Floyd?” He growls when you clench around him like a vice at the use of your brand-new name.

“You don’t get to cum until I say so,” he pants. His hand releases the bruising grip on your hip to slap your reddened, tender skin again, “maybe it’ll be later, maybe I’ll let you tomorrow morning, or maybe I won’t until we get back from our honeymoon. Can’t wait to watch you hesitate before you sit down, see you squirm when my cum leaks out of you and stains these pretty white panties,” he snaps the lace against your thigh, “see how you like being teased.”

Other than a needy whine that escapes, you give no further protest; you’re getting exactly what you wanted when you decided to give him those naughty pictures.

His hips slap against yours a few times more before stilling as he releases with a low groan. Your eyes pinch close at the overwhelming need to get your own release as he twitches inside you.

He pulls out of your trembling body before gathering the cum that follows and pushing it gently back inside you before sliding your underwear back up.

Your again neglected pussy pulses with another click of the camera once your undies are back in place.

“Open,” his husky tone has you opening your heavy eyes. You obey, looking at the lens of the camera as you clean his fingers with your mouth. “Good girl,” he hums, capturing it with a final photo.

*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•. .•*•.

A/N: …I have nothing to say about this. No excuses. Nothing. I’m not even ovulating right now. 🥴

Tagging who I think may enjoy this (sorry if I’m wrong!)

@lexixstewart

@dizzybee03

@its-the-pilot

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@atarmychick007

@littlezee80

@k-k0129

@jessicab1991

@landpiranha-blog

@fandomology101

@writtingrose

@rascallyrascalreads

@seitmai

@withahappyrefrain

@blindedbythelightt

@tastefulregularthots

[callsign-mayhem]

heartbreak feels so good (part 1)

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader Word count: 8081 CW: Shitty boyfriends, angst, fluff, slow burn.

Your boyfriend's callsign is Viper, which is fitting. Bradley doesn't know how much longer he can watch this man destroy you, but luckily for him, he doesn't have to wait too long.

Use of Y/N, but no description of reader. THIS IS A MULTI-PART FIC.

Part Two Part Three

After another day of having your feelings totally ignored by your boyfriend, you were looking forward to some alone time. Elijah was so hot and cold that you felt as though you were in a constant state of fight or flight, just waiting for him to either make your day or ruin it completely. Most of the time, it was the latter, and although good days with him were few and far between, they were enough to make you stay. See, you didn’t half-ass anything—least of all relationships—so when you were in something, you were in it. You told Elijah that much after your first date. You’d been sitting in the front of his beemer eating ice cream, having the first of many deep talks. Between sweet, sticky kisses, you’d told him that you were dating to marry. He told you he was, too. 

He said, ‘I’m yours if you’ll have me, Y/N.’ And that was that.

And it was almost a year ago. You’d survived a somewhat tumultuous winter with him, desperately trying to cling on to the version of him he’d been during the summer. As time went on, he stopped putting his mask on, secure enough in your relationship that he no longer felt the need to pretend to be caring and considerate. The days were starting to get longer, and the weather was warming up again, but Elijah was so far from the man he was at the start that you might as well have been in a relationship with a different person. Every morning, you woke up with no idea what personality to expect that day, whether or not he was going to take all his personal drama out on you, even though you only ever loved and supported him. 

Today had been one of those days, and as you finished up with the F-18 engine currently in pieces in front of you, you silently prayed that he wouldn’t text you asking to come over. He was also a naval aviator, but you were working on different parts of the base today. Thank God. Elijah’s callsign was Viper, fitting since vipers prey on small animals by envenomating them and watching them die slowly. 

Coyote appeared behind you, helmet tucked underneath his arm.

‘Hey, we’re all heading to The Hard Deck for beers,’ he told you. ‘You comin’?’ You grabbed a rag and made an attempt to wipe some of the oil off. ‘I don’t know,’ you sighed. ‘I want to, but then I’ll have to bring Elijah, and I don’t really wanna see him tonight.’ ‘Why do you have to bring him?’ Coyote frowned. ‘He’s a lousy drunk and never lets you have any fun.’ ‘If he finds out I went out with all you guys, he’ll think I’m up to something.’ ‘Like gettin’ with me?’ He joked, wiggling his eyebrows. ‘Probably,’ you laughed. ‘You or one of the others. Or maybe he’ll accuse me of getting with all of you if he’s in a particularly bad mood.’ ‘Listen, if you wanna come, you’re welcome. We’ll just make sure nobody posts about it, and we’ll get you a fake moustache or somethin’.’

It broke your heart to think about all your closest friends having a fun night without you. Over the past year, you’d lost count of the amount of experiences you’d missed out on because you didn’t want to make Elijah upset or angry with you. The worst part was it was a double standard. He went out without you all the time, didn’t tell you where he’d gone or who he was with, and expected you to be okay with it. If you weren’t, you could kiss your peace goodbye; he’d spend the next week making your life a living hell, ignoring you entirely until you apologised to him for being hurt by his actions.

‘You know what Javy? Count me in.’ He grinned. ‘Thatta girl.’ 

It was hard to regret coming out when you felt this good. It had been months since you’d gone on a night out without Elijah, which was to say it had been months since you last enjoyed yourself. As you sipped your second sex on the beach, you mused that some kind of higher power must have been looking out for you because you’d yet to receive a single text from your boyfriend. Most of the time, when you spent the night apart, he’d call you incessantly. It was annoying, sometimes bordering on obsessive, and you didn’t need him to tell you he was checking on you, or rather, checking that you were alone in your apartment. That much was obvious. 

Dating an insecure man was not for the weak.

You were sat at one of the high tables next to the window watching Jake, Mickey, Javy, and Reuben play pool. Nat was opposite nursing a beer, glowing in the golden light of the evening. Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up, smiling at the notification. 

‘Rooster’s on his way,’ she told you. ‘He wasn’t gonna come out tonight, but I told him he didn’t have a choice. It’s not every day Y/N Y/L/N leaves the comfort of her apartment.’ You scoffed. ‘That’s not exactly how I’d put it.’ ‘No?’ Nat raised a brow. 

You hadn’t drunk in months, and despite only being on your second drink, the booze had loosened your lips significantly. 

‘No. It’s not that I’d rather stay home, it’s that staying home makes my life easier because then I don’t have Elijah breathing down my fucking neck.’

Little did you know, Javy had told everyone about your conversation earlier. Not because he was a gossip but because he was worried about you. It was rare for you to open up to the squad about your relationship, but it wasn’t hard to guess what happened behind closed doors. They all worked with Viper, for one, and they were familiar with his temperament. Not only that, but you dropped off the face of the Earth a few months after you started dating him, and it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. 

‘I don’t know why you’re still with him, Y/N. He’s an ass.’ ‘I know,’ you sighed, frowning into your drink. ‘It’s just not as straightforward as just leaving. I still love him. If I can make this work, I don’t have to start all over again with someone else.’ Nat nodded in understanding. ‘I get wanting to make it work, but at what cost? You don’t see your friends, and he uses you as an emotional punching bag. You can’t even come to the beach with us without him checking on you every five minutes,’ she reached over the table and took your hand. ‘He’s killing you.’

This was the first time someone had spoken their mind to you about the situation. While you already knew all of it, hearing it from one of your best friends hit home. Vodka made you emotional, and if not for Bradley, you would have broken down there and then. 

He walked up to the table and engulfed you in a hug, practically pulling you off your stool. You pressed your face into his shirt, inhaling the scent of clean cotton and sandalwood. Half expecting Elijah to spring out and catch you in the act, you reluctantly pulled away. 

‘Hey, Bradley.’ ‘Hey yourself, stranger. Can’t believe you’re gracing us with your presence.’ ‘I know, it’s been a while.’ ‘A while? Try six months,’ he glanced at your almost empty glass and Nat’s empty bottle of Heineken. ‘Can I buy you lovely ladies a drink?’ ‘Do you even have to ask?’ Nat retorted.  ‘What’re you drinking, darlin’?’ He asked you. You smiled sheepishly. ‘Sex on the beach.’  ‘I can make that happen.’ He smirked.

Luckily, you didn’t have to come up with a response to that remark because he turned around and headed to the bar. You locked eyes with Nat, and both of you burst out laughing.

Just like that, all the negativity you’d been feeling dissipated like rain against hot tarmac. 

Bradley came back with the drinks, and the three of you took the opportunity to catch up while the others finished their pool game. You shouldn’t have been as surprised as you were to find out that you’d missed a lot. Bradley had started dating one of the medics, but the relationship had crashed and burned almost immediately. He hadn’t bothered trying to meet anyone else since. Nat, after watching all her friends have such bad experiences in the dating world, had decided she was better off alone. 

‘Honestly, I don’t blame you.’ You told her. ‘You should dump Viper,’ she said with a devilish grin. ‘And we can have a hot girl summer.’ Bradley laughed. ‘Can’t say I ever imagined you saying that, Nix.’  ‘Isn’t that what it’s called now? We can’t be that out of touch, surely.’ ‘I don’t wanna think about how old I am.’ You said, picking up your phone to see if you’d missed any texts from Elijah. You hated to think what kind of argument missing one of his calls would start.  Nat and Rooster shared a knowing look. ‘It rings, you know? Out loud.’

Being this transparent was embarrassing. 

‘I think I’m going to confiscate this for now.’ Ignoring your protests, Bradley swiped your phone and tucked it into his pocket. ‘If he calls or texts, I’ll let you know.’

You were tipsy enough not to try and take your phone back but not tipsy enough to be unbothered by the idea of Elijah calling and you not picking up.

‘If he calls, I need it back straight away,’ you told him sternly. ‘If I don’t pick up, I’ll never hear the end of it.’

Bradley rolled his eyes, but you knew it wasn’t aimed at you. He hated Elijah the most of all your friends. Perhaps sensing some tension, Nat slid off her stool and grabbed your arm, practically yanking you off yours.

‘Let’s go pick a song,’ she suggested. ‘We can get more drinks on the way back.’

Since it had been so long since you last visited The Hard Deck, she let you choose. You picked Rebel Yell by Billy Idol, your mum’s favourite. Admittedly, you’d been missing your home town a lot more than usual lately, perhaps because you were in such a weird place mentally. Things must be worse than you thought if you were considering running home with your tail between your legs. 

As the night went on, you got drunker and drunker. Bradley watched with a bemused grin as you dragged Bob off to the jukebox again, since he was the easiest person to coerce into doing things. How Bradley wished it was him you were clinging to. Not that he was jealous of Bob—because that would be like being jealous of a puppy—he just desperately wanted to be the object of your affection. 

While you and Bob went to change the music, Bradley struck up a conversation with Natasha and Reuben, who erupted into laughter when you pulled Bob’s arm so hard he almost toppled over. 

‘It’s nice to have Y/N out, huh?’ He observed. Nat looked at him like he was the biggest dickhead in the world. ‘Come on, Bradshaw. He might be an ass, but she’s got a boyfriend.’

Bradley sipped his beer, desperately trying to come up with a believable response. Reuben smirked knowingly, which only made Bradley more annoyed.

‘I don’t have a thing for Y/N.’ ‘Whatever helps you sleep at night, man.’ ‘Come on, Payback. You too?’ Reuben shrugged. ‘Doesn’t take a genius to work it out. You look at her like she’s God’s gift.’

The reason Bradley looked at you like you were God’s gift is because you were, but nobody was supposed to know that. 

‘Why do women stay with guys that treat them like shit?’ Bradley asked. ‘Depends on the woman,’ Natasha started. ‘But if you mean Y/N, it’s because she can’t do anything halfway. She told me earlier that it’s because she doesn’t want to start over with someone new, but I don’t think that’s it. She just loves so hard, and it takes a lot out of her. Why would she wanna start the process all over again if she already has someone?’ Bradley was incredulous. ‘Erm, I don’t know, maybe because he’s emotionally abusing her.’

You and Nat were close. In a way, she knew you better than you knew yourself, so she was the best person for Bradley to ask about things. Now, however, he was kind of regretting opening his mouth. Knowing why you were staying with a guy who treated you so badly didn’t make it easier to accept like Bradley thought it would; it only filled him with white-hot rage. 

‘It’s not as easy as just leaving. She has to come to it on her own.’ ‘Yeah,’ Reuben chimed in. ‘You can’t convince Y/N of shit.’ Natasha scoffed. ‘Yup, and believe me, I’ve tried.’  ‘So what, we just sit around and watch him ruin her?’ ‘Y/N’s a smart cookie and one of the strongest people I know. She’ll come to her senses, and when she does, we’ll be here.’ ‘You know, I read somewhere once that you can’t save anyone. You can only hold their hand while they save themselves.’ Nat raised a brow. ‘Damn, Payback. That might be the wisest thing you’ve ever said.’ ‘Hey, why do you sound so surprised?’ ‘You really want me to answer that?’

Bradley had a lot to think about. Realistically, he knew there was nothing he could do. His only option was to let things unfold naturally and have faith that things would work out exactly the way they were supposed to. The only problem was, that sounded too much like ‘sit back and do nothing,’ which didn’t feel right either. 

Bradley needed another drink. 

In fact, he was just about to head to the bar when you came bounding over, dragging poor Bob behind you. 

‘Roooooooooster.’ You cooed.

His heart just about melted when you started batting your eyelashes at him. 

‘What’s up, Y/CS?’

Everyone else was watching the interaction expectantly, waiting to hear what you were going to say next. 

‘You’re really pretty.’ Bradley laughed, hoping you were too drunk to notice the blush he could feel creeping across his cheeks. ‘Thank you. You’re really pretty, too.’ Nat, sensing the need to intervene, came around and gently grabbed your arm. ‘Hey, let’s get you a glass of water, huh?’ ‘But I need to tell Roo how pretty he looks.’

Bradley’s heart fluttered at your use of the pet name. He really didn’t want you to leave, but Nat was right. You needed some water and probably your bed. 

‘You told him already, Y/N. And when you get back, you can tell him again.’

She started leading you away, and Bradley immediately missed your presence. 

A very flushed-looking Bob took Nat’s empty stool. ‘That girl is somethin’ else.’ He murmured, pushing his glasses back up his nose. ‘I don’t think you should let her drink anymore.’ ‘I’m not her keeper,’ Bradley responded. ‘Can’t stop her from doing anything.’ Bob shrugged. ‘Maybe so, but you’re all she talked about. You and the fact that there’s no Fall Out Boy in the jukebox. Pretty sure she called it a ‘fucking tragedy.’’  Bradley leaned forward. ‘What did she say about me?’ ‘You know,’ Bob waved a hand dismissively. ‘You’re pretty. Her boyfriend is gonna kill her if he finds out she’s here with you because he thinks you have a thing for her.’ Bradley was at a loss for words. Reuben, however, was grinning like a fool. ‘What was that about not having a thing for her? Even her boyfriend’s caught on, man.’  ‘How many times do I have to say I do not have a thing for-’

An annoyingly loud ringing sound interrupted Bradley’s sentence. It didn’t sound like his ringtone, but the noise was coming from his pocket. It took him too long to remember that he had your phone in his pocket, and that it was probably Viper calling. Sure enough, when he took out your phone, he was greeted by a sickeningly sweet photo of you and your boyfriend on the beach. You and Nat were still at the bar, and he knew he should just let it ring so you could call him back later. 

But something had a hold of Bradley, and he answered the call and pressed the phone to his ear before he could really process what he was doing. 

‘Y/N’s phone.’ 

A beat of silence, then some of the most colourful language Bradley had ever heard in his life. 

‘Who the fuck is this, and why the fuck have you got my girlfriend’s phone?’  ‘Y/N can’t come to the phone right now. She’s at the bar with her friend, gettin’ another round of drinks, and I just know hearing your voice would ruin her night. It’s ruined mine, that’s for sure. If you want, I can take a message, and she’ll get back to you in the morning.’

Reuben was nearly on the floor, trying desperately not to laugh in case Viper heard him. Bob had paled significantly, like he’d seen a ghost—or worse. 

‘That you, Bradshaw? I just knew something was going on-’

Bradley hung up. The severity of the situation was beginning to hit, and despite the sick satisfaction he’d felt when he picked up the phone, he was regretting his decision already. 

‘Y/N is gonna kill you, Rooster.’ Bob told him. 

Nat made the sensible decision to cut you off, but she said you could stay out with them until closing if you promised to keep drinking water and stop fucking around with the jukebox. That was how you ended up in the corner of a booth with Bradley next to you to stop you from escaping.

Not that you’d want to escape. 

Mickey had joined, and the guys were playing cards while you and Nat talked. She was catching you up on her life, and it made a change to think about someone other than Elijah for once.

That’s when it hit you.

You hadn’t checked your phone in hours, and you dreaded to think how many texts and calls you’d missed. 

‘Bradley, can I have my phone?’

He set his hand of cards down on the table and reached into his pocket. When you reached out to take it, he pulled away.

‘Before I give this to you, I need to tell you something.’

A wave of nausea hit you. 

‘What? What’s going on?’ ‘Viper called about an hour ago. You were at the bar, and I didn’t know what to do, so I answered it.’ Reuben leaned forward in his seat. ‘Oh, this is about to be good.’

You thought you knew what panic felt like, but up until this very moment, you had no idea. Bradley was lucky you didn’t throw up in his lap from the nerves.

‘What?’ ‘I’m sorry, Y/N. I wasn’t thinking-’

You snatched your phone from him, ignoring the kicked-puppy expression he was sporting. A slew of angry text messages that were borderline abusive greeted you. You skimmed them quickly, not wanting to read too many in case you started crying in front of the entire squad. 

What started out as the best night you’d had in a while quickly turned into the worst. Your boyfriend's hateful messages reminded you why you never went out and why this was the biggest mistake you could have made.

The worst part was you saw it coming.

‘Move,’ you said, grabbing your bag. ‘Bradley, let me out now.’ ‘You can’t drive like this, Y/N. Let one of us take you home.’

Bradley sounded destroyed. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. 

‘Move.’

He nudged Bob, who stood up so Bradley could climb out of the booth. You were close behind him, and when your feet touched the floor, you nearly keeled over. Bradley reached out to steady you, but you shook him off.

‘Y/N. You can’t leave like this. How are you gonna get home?’

Ignoring his pleas, you made a beeline for the exit. Nat shoved Reuben into Mickey, trying to hurry them out of the booth so she could follow you, but you were surprisingly fast for a drunk person. Bradley was right about one thing: there was no way you could drive in this state. You ducked around the corner so Nat couldn’t see you and sank to the floor. Hot tears prickled behind your eyes as you did the one thing you didn’t want to do, but the only thing you could do.

You called Elijah. 

He didn’t answer the first, second, third, or fourth time. 

Half an hour passed, and you didn’t move. At one point, you heard Bradley, Nat, and Reuben talking around the corner, coming up with a plan for where to look for you. They knew you were on foot because your car was still in the lot, and since you’d disappeared so quickly, you couldn’t have gotten far. If the situation weren’t so tragic, it would’ve been funny that you were hiding ten paces away, and none of them could find you. 

It was getting very late. People were getting in their cars and leaving or jumping into Ubers. Soon, your Jeep would be the only car left. You couldn’t face the daggers, and you couldn’t drive home, so you picked yourself up and took a slow walk down the beach to where the water met the sand. 

What a beautiful night to have your heart broken. 

There was no way Elijah would ever forgive you for this, no way you’d ever be able to convince him that nothing had happened between you and Bradley. The sane part of you knew that it was crazy to feel guilty for simply enjoying a night out with your friends, but the sane part of you rarely won these days. The part of you that loved Elijah was always loudest and knew this could never have gone any other way. 

You were just about to resign yourself to calling a cab when you heard someone yelling your name from the top of the beach. 

You either had the best or worst luck in the world because it was Bradley. 

He made short work of the distance, giving you no time to come up with something to say. He looked otherworldly in the pale moonlight. His hair was slightly mused, and the same insane part of you that loved what it loved was whispering at you to run your fingers through it. 

‘We’ve been looking all over for you, Y/N.’ He sounded very concerned as he pulled out his phone and texted the others to let them know you were safe. ‘I’m sorry, I just needed to be alone.’

You hadn’t even realised you were shivering until Bradley draped his Levi jacket over your shoulders. 

‘You needed to be alone, or you needed to call Viper back?’ The tears threatened to make another appearance. ‘It’s none of your business.’ ‘What makes you think it’s not my business? I care about you and don’t want to keep watching you get hurt.’ ‘Then stop watching!’

Bradley recoiled, and you immediately felt awful. How Elijah spoke to you like that day in and day out without feeling guilty was a mystery to you. 

‘I’m sorry, Bradley,’ you sighed, pulling his jacket tighter around you. ‘I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just very drunk and very emotional right now.’

He softened immediately and seemed torn about whether he should let you stand there freezing or pull you close. You hoped he wouldn’t try to pull you close because you didn’t think you’d have the guts to tell him no. Good feelings had been so incredibly hard to come by as of late.

‘Why are you still with him, Y/N?’ Bradley asked almost pleadingly. 

Wow. He didn’t waste any time getting right to the point. 

‘That’s a loaded question.’ ‘I need you to explain it to me because it’s killing me.’

You thought about it for a moment, and Bradley waited with bated breath to hear what you had to say.

In the end, it was this: ‘I guess we accept the love we think we deserve.’ 

Until you said it out loud, this phrase held little meaning to you. Now that it was out in the open, it was very heavy. In the last few months you’d tried coming up with a decent explanation as to why you were staying with Elijah, and you fell short every time. Turns out all you needed to do was get drunk and have an honest conversation to figure it out. 

Coming to the realisation that what you’d just said was true felt like being in freefall. Everything in your life was changing shape to fit around this ugly truth. The good things in your heart shied away in the face of this monstrous fact. 

You didn’t think you deserved a healthy love. 

Somehow, Bradley was more hurt by this than when you’d snapped at him earlier. He was staring at the ground, unable to meet your eye like you’d just told him he wasn’t worthy of love.

‘You don’t think you deserve to be happy?’

Hearing him say it was somehow even worse.

‘Apparently not.’

You were both quiet for a moment, and then, for whatever reason, you laughed. 

‘This is news to me too.’

The waves crashed loudly, water lapping at your feet as the tide came in. You couldn’t stand out here having epiphanies all night. 

‘Listen, Rooster, I need to go home. I’m sorry for snapping.’ ‘I’ll take you home,’ he said quietly. ‘But we should talk tomorrow when you’re sober. Maybe we could get coffee.’ You shook your head. ‘After tonight, I don’t think that’s a smart idea. I’ll probably be spending tomorrow trying to salvage what’s left of my relationship.’ ‘You’re not serious.’ ‘I am.’

He opened his mouth to protest but then appeared to change his mind. You watched as all the fight he had left in him dissolved. There was nothing left for him to say, and he knew it. 

The irritating birds that constantly chirped right outside your bedroom window woke you up. It was too damn early, and your head felt as though it was splitting open. When you sat up, you were hit by a wave of nausea so strong that you had no other choice but to sprint to the bathroom, smashing into the corner of your chest of drawers on the way. 

Which was to say, it was a bad morning. 

After you had puked up the entire contents of your stomach, you jumped straight in the shower, brushed your teeth, and did your skincare. At least if Elijah showed up at your front door, you wouldn’t look like you got super drunk last night, even though he’d probably already guessed. 

When you checked your phone, there were still no notifications from him, and when you called, there was no answer. This wasn’t unlike him, but it had been almost twelve hours since Bradley picked up your phone, and you would have thought he’d have something to say by now. 

To distract yourself from your impending doom, you threw open all the windows in your apartment, made your bed, unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher—all the usual morning tasks. It seemed a shame to waste such a beautiful Saturday, but you doubted you’d enjoy any of your hobbies when you were this anxious and hungover. 

With nothing else left to do, you set about making some breakfast. 

Just as you put your bagel in the toaster, somebody knocked on the door. 

Your stomach twisted itself into an impossibly tight knot. You were rooted to the spot, unable to move until whoever it was knocked a second time. 

You looked through the peephole, expecting to see Elijah standing there with his dark eyebrows knitted together in frustration. It was the only scenario that had crossed your mind, so when you saw Bradley standing there, you were very surprised. 

You took a deep breath and opened the door, greeted by the warm scent of sandalwood once again. 

‘Bradley?’

He was holding two iced lattes, which you were betting were vanilla—your favourite. Elijah hadn’t done that for you since the first week of your relationship.

‘Hey, Y/N. Thought you could use this.’

He wasn’t wrong. You ushered him inside, and he headed to the kitchen, where he 

perched himself on one of the stools at your kitchen island. This morning, he was sporting one of his more toned-down Hawaiian shirts and dark jeans. His eyelids drooped, and you wondered if he’d slept at all. 

‘I was just about to make bagels. Want one?’ ‘Sure, thank you.’

You busied yourself, putting bacon and eggs into a pan while he sipped his coffee. He eyed you with the curiosity of someone who had come over to check that you were all in one piece. Once he was satisfied that you were, he relaxed slightly. 

‘Thank you for bringing me home last night. I really appreciate it.’ You told him earnestly.  ‘You don’t need to thank me. You’d have done the same thing.’ ‘True, but still. And I’m sorry for snapping at you.’ 

Last night was gradually coming back to you in flashes, like a supercut. Each time you remembered a new detail, you cringed internally. 

‘You also don’t need to apologise. Has he called you?’ 

While the eggs and bacon were cooking, you toasted another bagel for Bradley and buttered yours. Even though you’d known him for years and been quite close until you got into a relationship, you were struggling to admit that you were pretty much being ghosted. It was already hard to walk around on base knowing that everybody was aware of how Elijah treated you. When you didn’t respond, Bradley took that as a no. 

‘Well, that’s his problem,’ he spat. ‘You did absolutely nothing wrong. Maybe if he were less of a control freak, you would have felt like you could tell him you were out with us rather than hiding it, and then he wouldn’t have found out the way he did.’

The toaster popped, and you jumped. It felt like somebody had run a cheese grater over your nerves. Bradley ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath, clearly trying to reign in his anger.

‘I should apologise too,’ he continued. ‘I shouldn’t have answered your phone. It was a dick move, and I regretted it the instant I did it.’ 

You buttered the second bagel, put one egg on each of the bottom halves, and stacked two pieces of bacon on top before adding the top part. You didn’t say a word the entire time, and Bradley was starting to get antsy. 

‘Y/N. Please talk to me.’ ‘I don’t know what to say, Roo. I’m struggling even to think straight right now. He knows it drives me fucking crazy when he’s having a go at me and doesn’t respond. I don’t understand why he does it, knowing how it makes me feel.’ Bradley sighed. ‘Because he doesn’t give a shit how you feel. He doesn’t give a shit about anything other than himself and how he feels.’ 

This wasn’t news to you, but again, it was more impactful to hear someone else say it out loud. Really, how long could you keep this up? Whether you thought you deserved it or not, you were starting to wonder if you might be better off alone than with someone who made living feel like walking next to a cliff with your eyes closed. 

You pushed Bradley’s plate across the counter and picked up your bagel. Eating felt impossible, but getting through the day with this headache would be excruciating if you didn’t at least try. 

‘Come and sit down,’ Bradley said. ‘It’s not good to eat standing up.’ Despite everything, you managed to laugh. And this time, it was a real laugh. ‘Why?’ A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. ‘I don’t know. My mum used to say it all the time.’

You did as you were told, and you walked around the island, taking the seat next to him. The two of you ate in companionable silence, periodically taking sips of your coffees. This was how easy it should have been with Elijah. 

When you were both finished, Bradley put your plates, pan, and utensils into the dishwasher. You were too tired to tell him to stop. 

‘Thanks for breakfast.’  You smiled. ‘Thanks for being you.’

Bradley’s smile mirrored your own. Unsaid words hung in the air, but you didn’t know what to say. His leaving didn’t feel right, but if he stayed and Elijah made an appearance, he’d most definitely break up with you. 

But wasn’t this radio silence all the confirmation you needed that things were pretty much over, anyway? You were starting to wonder if this weekend had all happened exactly the way it was supposed to. Your eyes were indeed open, that was for sure. Of course, you’d known that the relationship wasn’t healthy, but this weekend had really driven the point home. 

‘Do you wanna go for a walk along the beach?’ You asked, hopefully. ‘We could grab some ice cream at that little place next to the arcade.’

Bradley didn’t just look happy. He also looked relieved that you weren’t asking him to leave. 

‘I’d love to.’

It was a beautiful Spring day, perfect walking weather. Honestly, it was the last thing Bradley expected you to suggest, so he jumped on the idea before you could change your mind and send him home.

Because he really didn’t want to go home. 

He’d sensed that you didn’t want to talk about Viper, and you’d yet to bring up your conversation on the beach last night. Bradley was beginning to doubt that you even remembered everything you said—all that nonsense about not deserving a healthy love. Bradley didn’t take you as a liar, which meant you believed that you weren’t deserving of happiness. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt quite so sad and also angry at the same time. So many emotions were warring for the top spot in his heart, and as a result, his brain was incredibly foggy.

A walk along the beach with you was perhaps the only cure.

‘Did you hear about Hangman?’ Bradley assumed you hadn’t. ‘No?’ ‘He’s getting deployed. He’s leaving next month.’ ‘How long is he going for?’ ‘Six months.’ You whistled lowly. ‘Damn.’ ‘I know. I think he’s looking forward to it, though. I sure am.’ ‘You know, I don’t think you hate him half as much as you say.’ Bradley chuckled. ‘Maybe not, but being nice to him wouldn’t feel right. Even after everything that happened on the mission.’ 

The two of you walked down the beach, chit-chatting about anything that came to mind. You were about halfway to the ice cream place when your phone pinged. Bradley guessed it would be Viper, but he never could have guessed what the message said. 

It was a photo of you and Bradley walking down the beach, taken from behind. The picture had been forwarded to you from someone else. 

E<3: always knew you were a slut.

You inhaled sharply, obviously hurt by the words on the screen. Not two seconds later, he sent another text. 

E<3: PS: we’re fucking over.

The two of you had stopped walking. Bradley watched over your shoulder as you furiously typed a reply and deleted it again. You turned to face him, and his heart just about broke when he saw the tears streaming down your cheeks. You didn’t need to say a word. He pulled you close to him, wrapping you tightly in his arms. You stayed that way for a while, sobbing into his Hawaiian shirt as he rubbed your back soothingly. When you eventually pulled away, the first thing you did was apologise. 

‘There’s nothing for you to be sorry for, sweet girl. He’s the one who should be sorry.’ You sniffled. ‘I don’t know what to reply.’ ‘Leave it for now,’ he said. ‘We can go get ice cream, take a slow walk back to yours. Then I’ll help you think of something.’ ‘I don’t know if I feel like ice cream anymore.’ ‘Well, that’s too bad because I do. Ice cream is the best remedy for heartbreak.’ ‘Did your mum tell you that too?’ ‘She sure did.’ 

It turns out Bradley was right about ice cream being the best remedy for heartbreak. The two of you sat on the wall, watching the waves while he munched on a mint chocolate chip cone and you butterscotch. It was hard to tell whether it was the best ice cream you’d ever had or if it was because you were with Bradley. If you remembered correctly, you’d had ice cream from this same place with Elijah before, and it hadn’t been this nice.

Thinking back on your memories with him only made you want to cry, so you did your best to shove them to the back of your mind. Despite the fact that he was actually a very shitty person, he’d been a dream at the beginning, and that didn’t just go away. The happy moments didn’t just suddenly turn to ash, as much as you wished they would. 

‘What are your plans for the rest of the night?’ Bradley asked around his ice cream cone. ‘I don’t know, Roo. I’m kinda working on a minute-to-minute basis right now.’ Bradley nodded. ‘Okay, well, what would you say to junk food run and a movie night?’ ‘With you?  ‘If you want to. I just don’t think it’s good for you to be alone.’ ‘I don’t want you to feel like you have to babysit me.’ ‘Is that what you think this is?’ ‘No, but I don’t want to be a burden. Or a charity case.’ ‘Y/N, you’re none of those things. I always want to spend time with you. Just so happens I have a good excuse today.’ You frowned into your ice cream. ‘Okay. As long as you’re sure.’ 

The two of you finished your ice cream and took a slow walk back to your apartment. When you got in, the first thing you noticed was a framed photograph of you and your now ex-boyfriend on the side table in the hallway. When your bottom lip started trembling, Bradley picked up the photo, put it face down, and then proceeded to run around your apartment and take down any others. It didn’t feel like the same place you’d left a few hours ago. It was haunted by memories that would never look right in the light of day. Even the happiest ones from the start were tainted with the ugliness of his cruel words and actions. 

‘This place is so depressing.’ You grumbled.

Bradley stood in front of you with a stack of photos and one of Elijah’s t-shirts. 

‘It’s not. It’s your home, Y/N. We just have to pack away his stuff and put it all in a box.’ ‘An ex-boyfriend box.’ Bradley smiled sadly. ‘Yeah, exactly. It might be over, and he might be a dick, but it was still a big part of your life, and it’s important to keep the memories safe in case you wanna look back on them someday.’ ‘Or in case I wanna burn them.’ ‘That too.’ Bradley chuckled

So you helped him gather all the mementoes from your relationship and put them in an old Dr Martens box. It all looked pretty pathetic, packed away in a shoebox.

‘I found one of his hoodies and a few other things.’ You called from your bedroom. ‘Can you grab me a bin bag from the top of the fridge?’

You heard shuffling, and then Bradley was standing in the doorway holding out the bag you requested. 

‘Damn, he doesn’t even get one of the nice Trader Joe's bags?’ ‘No,’ you giggled. ‘He gets a trash bag because his stuff is trash, and he’s trash.’

You weren’t really at the stage where you believed that just yet, but saying it was really satisfying, and it felt good to laugh. Fake it till you make it or whatever. 

‘Want me to give it to him tomorrow?’ ‘Thanks, but I should really be the one to do it. I haven’t even texted him back.’ You thought about it for a moment and then continued. ‘Would it be cheeky of me to ask if you’ll come with me? Maybe Nat, too? I could use some moral support, and he’s less likely to make a scene if the two of you are there.’ ‘Of course I’ll be there. I won’t say anything unless you need me to or unless he starts. I can’t make that same promise for Nix, though.’ ‘I haven’t even told Nat yet,’ you sighed. ‘I don’t think I wanna talk about it right this second.’ ‘I’ll text her. Don’t worry about it.’

From your spot on the floor, you looked up at Bradley. The evening sunlight was streaming in through the windows, casting an ethereal glow around him. 

‘You should change your callsign to angel.’ A look of pleasant surprise flickered across his handsome features. ‘Why?’ ‘Because you’re literally my angel, Roo. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’

Half an hour later, Bradley convinced you to go on a junk food run with him in the Bronco. He said tonight was a mandatory, post-breakup wallowing sesh because if you bottled up your feelings now, you’d explode later at a much more inconvenient time. 

The two of you had been screaming along to all the classic breakup songs: All Too Well by Taylor Swift (yes, he knew all the words), Who Knew by Pink, What About Now by Daughtry… He’d driven the long way to the store because you got so into it. 

Now, as you scanned the shelves in Target, you asked: ‘What is it about screaming sad songs that makes you feel better?’ ‘It’s cathartic,’ Bradley explained. ‘Helps you relieve the strong feelings.’ ‘You know a lot about heartbreak.’ ‘Well, I’ve had my fair share of sadness.’ You froze. ‘That was insensitive of me, I’m sorry.’ Bradley took the packed of Reeses Pieces from your hands so he could hold them. ‘Can you make me a promise?’ ‘What?’ You asked sceptically. ‘Promise you’re gonna stop apologising to me all the time. You have nothing to be sorry for.’ ‘Sorry.’ You smiled sheepishly.  He shook his head. ‘That’s not what you’re supposed to say.’ ‘Okay, fine,’ you huffed. ‘I promise to stop apologising all the time.’ ‘Thank you,’ Bradley said, releasing your hands reluctantly. ‘Now, pick out five more things.’ ‘Five? There’s already five things in the basket.’ ‘Did I ask?’ ‘I’m gonna get fat.’ ‘Don’t be so ridiculous. Wallowing means junk food, and I don’t know if you’re looking at the same basket I am, but that’s not enough junk food.’ ‘Christ Almighty, okay.’ 

He helped you pick out five more things, and then you headed to check out.

‘What movies are good for wallowing?’ You asked. ‘Well, we have to start with a couple of sad ones and then finish with a happy one.’

The cashier told you your total, and Bradley tapped his card before you could even get yours out. You gave him a withering look.

‘I would’ve paid for that. You paid for the ice cream.’ ‘So?’ ‘So we should take it in turns.’

Obviously, he carried the bags as well, and as you walked back to the Bronco, he couldn’t help but wonder if Viper made you take it in turns. If you were his girl, you’d never have to tap your card.

‘What’s your favourite sad movie?’ He inquired.  You opened the trunk for him so he could put the bags in. ‘Technically, it’s not a sad movie. But there’s this part in Inside Out…Wait, have you watched it before? I don’t wanna spoil it for you.’ ‘The part where Bing Bong gets forgotten?’ You gasped. ‘How did you know?’ ‘Because it gets me every single time.’

The way you looked at him in that moment, like he had hung the moon in the sky—God, it was too much. 

‘We’ll start with Inside Out,’ he told you, opening the passenger door so you could climb in. ‘And then we’ll think of something else.’

Without giving much thought to what he was doing, Bradley found himself buckling your seatbelt for you. You were holding your breath, and it dawned on him how easy it would be to kiss you if he were that sort of guy.

And as much as he wanted to kiss you, he was not that sort of guy. He wasn’t about to take advantage of the fact that some asshole had just taken a sledgehammer to your very beautiful heart. 

‘Can we watch Bridge To Terabithia?’ You whispered.

Bradley hadn’t moved, and you were so close that he could feel your warm breath on his cheek. 

‘Are you trying to break my heart, Y/N?’ ‘Yes. I want you to feel my pain.’ 

He was grinning the whole way around the car to the driver’s side and still grinning when he got in the car. You already had his phone in your hand, searching for more sad songs so you could continue your car concert on the way back to your apartment. He drove the long way again so the two of you could finish your rendition of ‘I Don’t Love You’ by My Chemical Romance, which Bradley didn’t know the words to. He tried his best, though, because you seemed to love it, and he couldn’t deny you anything. 

By the time you got home, the sun had almost entirely set. While he set the snacks out on the coffee table, you went around lighting candles and switching on fairy lights. He’d never seen your apartment in the dark, and it was incredibly cosy. Even though it was relatively warm, you dragged all your blankets and pillows from your bed and made a little nest on the sofa. You were so adorable, it was hard to believe that someone could treat you badly. 

If you were his girl, every night would look like this—except you’d be a lot happier, and there would be no tears. 

Halfway through Bridge To Terebitha, you fell asleep. Bradley had been trying to keep his distance despite wanting to wrap you up in his arms, yet somehow—in your sleep—you’d ended up with your legs in his lap. He’d frozen at first, but once he realised you were dead to the world, he allowed himself to rest his hands on your knees. Really, it was that or sit with his arms crossed, and that would be silly. 

For the duration of the movie, his attention flickered between you and the TV. Every time he tried paying attention to what was happening, his eyes wandered back to your peaceful face. He marvelled at your astounding beauty, the delicate way your eyelashes rested against the tops of your rosy cheeks. Bradley had always admired you, and you’d been good friends for years, but what he felt in that moment was something else entirely. By the time the end credits started rolling, he knew without a doubt that he’d set whole cities ablaze to keep you warm. Feelings as rapidly growing as his should have been terrifying, but Bradley wasn’t scared. Falling in love with you seemed to be as easy as wading out into a calm ocean on a warm summer’s day. 

He knew you’d yet to learn that falling in love and staying in love should always be this easy. He knew it was going to take some time to convince you that you deserved healthy love, that the right person would never run away from you and keep turning around to make sure you were chasing them. 

But Bradley was a patient man, and he would wait as long as he had to.

End of part one.

[sunlightmurdock]

Ashes, Ashes | One | Bradley Bradshaw

masterlist | prologue | next chapter

Synopsis: In which Maverick didn’t make it home after the Uranium mission. He’s missing, presumed dead. There are things that have to be done — someone has to take care of the house, the bills.

So, Maverick’s daughter is back in Fightertown for the first time since she was in elementary school. There’s a gaping hole in both of their lives now, and somehow, the world’s supposed to just keep on turning without him.

Warnings: bradley bradshaw x minimally descriptive oc avery mitchell, age gap (23/33), smut, angst, hurt / comfort, mentions of character death, mourning, military inaccuracies. This entire fic and my blog is an 18+ space, minors do not interact. Do not repost.

…

Crossing the threshold into Maverick’s home doesn’t come naturally to either one of them. This place is something that they had both left behind. Outgrown. It’s solely his. It’s not their home and it has never been, until now. Now, Avery, at least, is stuck here until things are figured out.

On that fourteen hour drive down to San Diego, she’d had a lot of time to think. How long is a person supposed to wait for a body to turn up before they go ahead and throw the funeral without it?

Three paces into the hallway, brown wood floors and white walls, she is met with a smiling family picture. Only, she’s not in it. 

Because, it’s not a picture of Pete’s family. Pete doesn’t have a family. Pete Mitchell has a daughter from a one night stand with a married woman.

This picture is of a real family. Hung on the wall opposite the front door is a picture of Nick and Carole Bradshaw holding their infant son. He’s bald and gummy. They’re grinning and showing him off like a prize trophy — so proud of him even though all he did in those days was drool and pee himself. 

These days, their infant son is up to more important things. Their infant son grew to an upsettingly grand height and is carrying two of her bags in one hand behind her today.

“C’mon, Mitchell — these are heavy.” Bradley huffs softly from behind her, reminding her that she’s standing stationary and blocking his path. 

The nickname stings. Avery’s last name isn’t Mitchell because her biological father had wanted it to be. It’s Mitchell solely because her mother’s husband knew she wasn’t his and would rather die before letting her take his name.

She shrugs her duffel bag closer to her body and turns left. Bradley huffs under the weight of her luggage, watching her walk her cute butt in completely the wrong direction. “Wait, where are you going?”

Not struggling at all under the weight of her single duffel bag, she turns slowly to face him and frowns slightly. “My room.” 

Avery doesn’t remember Bradley. Not in her own memories, anyway. She knows he was around, she’s seen him in pictures but the image in her head doesn’t match. Not quite right. Like puzzle pieces bent and forced together.

He’s taller than he looked at his high school graduation, which sits pictured and framed above Mav’s mantle. Older, but that’s to be expected. Up close, he looks more like his mother than his father. A slight bump in his nose and scars, nicely healed, but jagged and raised nonetheless dusted his cheek and his throat. 

Even with all those differences, there’s a very slight familiarity to him that makes this all feel a little bit less suffocating.

Bradley’s brows draw together. He gives a small nod in the direction of the spare room. “That’s… I usually stayed in that room.”

“Oh.” Avery realises with a hum. With Bradley being ten years your senior, the room was his long before it was hers. With him growing up so close by, it was probably his much more frequently than it was hers, too. It’s not like she had ever kept anything here anyway. It’s just a guest room that she would occupy every now and again.

There’s a brief quiet between the two of them. 

“I just figured you could take the big room. ‘Til you get settled. I’ll go home once your car is fixed, if that’s what you want.” Bradley adds on. That sad little look on her face, right in front of him, is killing him. 

The big room. The loft room upstairs. Avery thinks about it and finds herself pretty sure that she’s never even been upstairs in this house.

“You’re staying too?” 

Oh. Yeah. He hadn’t addressed that point yet. Truthfully, he hadn’t even been planning to stay. He hasn’t even packed an overnight bag. But, from the second that she had stepped out of the car and looked up at the house with that look on her face, he hadn’t even considered leaving her here alone.

“Just ‘til we get your car fixed,” He offers with a small shrug. “I’ll be here to run you around until then.”

Like he’s doing this for her sake. Natasha has her own life to get back to and Bradley can’t stand the thought of going back to his apartment alone. 

“Okay,” Avery agrees, turning to peer down the hall towards the spare room. It’s nothing special — it really never felt like hers, anyway. “Alright, I’ll take Pete’s room.”

Pete. She calls Maverick ‘Pete’ now. 

Bradley just nods, shifting the weight of her bags and nodding for her to head for the stairs. All the floors in this house are tan oak. The entryway is now herringbone. With the help of a friend, Pete had done the entire thing himself. 

Of course, as they walk silently across it, neither one of them would know that. Neither one of them was speaking to him last May, which was why he had needed a project in the first place.

Natasha’s outside on the phone. Bradley’s footsteps thud on the wood of the stairs behind her, following her up. She stops at the top, leaving just enough room for Bradley to stand there behind her.

The door to Maverick’s room is open. His bed is made. There’s a book thrown on top of it, the spine cracked and used, the pages yellow from years out in the sun.

“No way is he still trying to fucking finish War and Peace.” Bradley steps around her and heads straight for the book. Pete started this book before Bradley finished elementary school. Bradley twists and looks back at her. “He always gets bored and stops reading, then forgets his page and starts again.”

Another slow nod. One foot in front of the other, her shoes along the tan oak floors. Her fingers trail the white walls. Maverick wouldn’t have minded. This place was always messy before. It’s not now. 

This house is vacant and quiet, but it’s far from empty. It’s filled to the brim, practically pulling apart at the seams with everything that Maverick was and planned to be. He was finishing War and Peace — he made it to chapter 253 this time; further than he had ever made it before. 

Suddenly, Avery’s throat is thick with the knowledge that all she knew Maverick to be, is now all that he’ll ever be. An absent father, a fantastic pilot, a lousy cook. A thousand more things that she’ll never know.

Four days of knowing, a fourteen hour drive down here, and it’s a book that stings like a cold slap to the face, reminding her of why exactly it is that she’s here.

Fire burns behind her eyes, blistering and stinging as Bradley sets her bags on the floor with a soft thud.

He turns with his attention completely on the book, his fingers extending towards the peeling cover of the paperback. His fingers curl around its weathered pages and he lifts it tenderly, examining the front at first.

It’s too early to start this process bawling her eyes out, and Avery refuses to let Russian Literature be your downfall, again.

That thick feeling sits in her throat like a stack of weights as she sits down on the end of Maverick’s bed. The mattress is soft, taking her weight without a squeak of complaint. Maybe he finally listened to her and got a bed that wasn’t so harsh on his back.

It’s been almost two years since she had even set foot in this house last. If she had known that Maverick was going to be gone this soon… she sits and thinks to herself about if she would have maybe visited more. Probably not.

“I’ll change the sheets and stuff, then I’ll get out of your hair for a bit.”

Lifting her head, she blinks at him. He has already started to pull back the comforter and strip the bottom sheet from the bed, awkwardly forcing her onto her feet again. 

Mobile once more, Avery turns slowly to take in her surroundings. This is Maverick’s room. It’s his house, she was prepared for that much — but this is his room. The last thing she wants is to be alone in it all night.

“Oh. Sure,” She nods, setting into motion to help take the sheets off.

He’s so methodical about it, like none of this phases him at all. But then, she hasn’t seen how he has been for the past few days.

“I was thinking of just ordering food tonight, since I’m kinda tired — and Pete never had groceries. Would you want… to maybe join?”

“Sure.” Bradley nods, tugging the pillows out of the cases. He glances up to her with a strictly polite, neutral smile. Quiet settles between the two of them until the bed is just a bare mattress and uncovered pillows. 

Then, there’s a moment of total stillness between the two of them. Her gaze flickers up, meeting his, and the realization settles between the two of them.

Maverick’s favourite cologne was a French thing that some woman in the eighties had liked. Citrus in the shade of cypress wood. The scent fills the room like he’s standing between the two of them.

Bradley glances down at the white sheets in his hands. The snowy white peaks of those mountains, Maverick’s aircraft spiralling into them, engulfed in flames. In a sick way, Bradley hopes that he didn’t manage to eject. At least then, it would have been instant. Maverick wouldn’t have felt anything.

Avery watches his adam’s apple bob in his throat from the other side of the bed. The last you had heard, Mav and Bradley weren’t on speaking terms. She wonders if this is as weird for him as it is for you.

“I’ll put these in the washer. You can… unpack, or whatever.” He decides finally, already taking one step backwards, headed for the door. She stands there, blinking at him. Even with those steeped, broad shoulders, he makes it through the doorframe unscathed before he turns to check where he’s going.

He probably knows this house inside and out, just like he knew her dad. Once. 

When it comes to wracking her brain and trying to remember Bradley Bradshaw, Avery can’t ever come up with anything. Maybe a glimpse, here and there. A blue t-shirt with green stripes. His school backpack accidentally left in the backseat of Maverick’s convertible beside her shoddily installed car seat. 

Truthfully, her experience with Bradley Bradshaw is limited. He’s just as real to her as any of the other guys in the stories she grew up hearing about. Her very own Peter Pan is downstairs right now, trying to figure out Maverick’s ancient washing machine, just so that he doesn’t have to stand up here and stare across at her.

He can���t hide from her forever, though. Evening comes, and so does hunger. 

He stares down at the pizza between the two of them as he chews through a bite, brows drawn together slightly. He hates thin crust pizza — it’s the worst kind of pizza. But, when she had suggested it, he had agreed with a tight-lipped smile.

Natasha has gone home. It’s just the two of them, now. Sitting in this unchanged, all too familiar kitchen. Avery has barely unpacked. She set up a couple of things in Maverick’s bathroom, but it doesn’t feel right to be in the big room upstairs. That wasn’t ever her space to claim.

She chews absentmindedly at the bite she had taken. The TV in the living room is off. The record player is coated in a layer of thin dust already. It’s dead quiet. The kitchen light is dim above their heads.

There’s a chip in the corner of the table on Bradley’s side. It’s there because Bradley was running through this kitchen when he was four years old and had tripped and knocked his front tooth out right here. His thumb trails the tiny mark, wondering how his teeth had ever been that small.

Wondering why she isn’t angry with him, too.

Maverick had picked him up that day, turned him around and held Bradley while he cried, stemming the blood and quickly introducing the concept of the tooth fairy. He had done all that he could, and Bradley still found a way to resent him for what had happened to his own father.

Bradley hasn’t ever done a thing for Avery. Except maybe pay for this pizza. And here she is, calm as can be. 

The sauce base feels tangy and coppery, and the cheese makes him want to puke. He sets the slice down on his plate and wipes his hands on the paper towel beside him.

Finally, he lifts his head and looks at her. Her hair is up differently now, tucked out of your way after an afternoon of manual labour upstairs, tidier than it had been earlier. She’s wearing a stretched out old t-shirt. Bradley assumes she got it from a boyfriend.

Really, he doesn’t think she looks that much like her old man. He would really have to search for the resemblance. But, briefly, when she offers him a polite smile across the table, he knows that you’re Mav’s kid.

“I’m sorry.” Bradley blurts out. They both look across at each other, equally surprised that he has spoken.

“…For what?” Avery asks quietly, lips tugging into a small frown.

“I’m sorry that I’m here and he’s not.” He’s just got to say it. He knows she probably wouldn’t bring it up on your own, but there’s a big elephant in this room. Bradley knows what it’s like to sit in her spot, and not know how to talk about it.

It’s his fault that Maverick didn’t make it home.

She stops chewing. That last bite sits in her mouth, doughy and dry all of a sudden. She stares across at him, awkwardly making herself swallow down the last of her bite of pizza and picking up the paper towel to wipe at her mouth.

“We weren’t that close.” She tells him, like that’s supposed to make him feel better. It doesn’t. It’s like a blow to the chest. She’ll never get the opportunity to fix things, because of him.

But, he knows what it’s like to be told how to grieve. He just dips his head and nods awkwardly. “Right.” 

“I got a call from an admiral the other day,” She picks up the slice of pizza and pick at its toppings. There’s no one here now to tell her not to play with your food. Mav never really cared anyway. Bradley watches her, unhungry. “Invited me down to Miramar. He said he was a friend of Mav’s and that he could talk me through… this whole thing. How it works.”

Bradley rubs a hand over the neatly trimmed hair above his lip. It feels like he has swallowed a golf ball, sitting here like it’s normal to be discussing the measures.

He knows how it works. It won’t be as simple as it was with his own father. At least Maverick had afforded him something to bury. For her, there’s nothing.

“I’ll have to be there around eleven.” 

“Sure,” Bradley nods, scratching at the back of his neck. His legs tingle with stiffness. Clearing his throat, he shifts in the little wooden chair and stretches, knocking his foot into hers under the table. “Oh. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Her teeth press into the inside of your cheek. Maverick hadn’t ever described Bradley as this nervous.

“It’s fine.” She hums, pushing back in her chair and standing up from the table. “Well, I’ve been up since like… four, so I might just hit the hay.”

“Sure.” Bradley breathes out, hands braced on his thighs, eyes focussed on that tiny chip in the corner of the table. “Yeah. Goodnight.”

The downstairs bedroom seemed bigger when he was a kid. The twin-sized bunks on the carrier feel bigger than the wooden-framed bed that Maverick put in here. Bradley’s shoulder is practically hanging off the side, and the old frame creaks with each movement he makes.

It’s not like he would be sleeping much anyway. When he closes his eyes, the only thing he can see is the fireball Maverick’s plane had turned into as it fell.

Bradley’s hunched over the coffee pot by the time that Avery wakes up. He hears her coming down the stairs and straightens up like he wasn’t three seconds from throwing the stupid thing at the wall, clearing his throat and turning around.

It occurs to him that he should have put a shirt on. This isn’t his place. It’s hers, now, he guesses — either way, he hadn’t considered making her uncomfortable. He folds his arms over his naked torso as she strolls into the kitchen, hair mussed and rubbing at her eyes.

She’s wearing big socks and the same big t-shirt she had worn to eat the pizza last night. He can’t tell if she’s wearing shorts or not.

“Morning,” He offers up, making her lift her gaze from busily tapping at her phone. Her gaze lands squarely on his navel — more so, how low his shorts sit on his hips and the way a soft trail of brown hair ventures from there to his bellybutton. 

Blinking, she finds his face.

“Coffee machine’s broken, we can stop somewhere on the way to base if you like.” He leans down a little bit, like an awkward teenager shrinking away from a family picture. She locks her gaze on his, trying not to glance back down at his muscles. 

“Oh. That’s not broken — if you hit it hard enough, it’ll work.” She heads right for him, fuzzy socks padding across the floor so softly that it really does startle him when she grabs the copy of War and Peace that now sits on the kitchen counter, and slam the book right into the side of the coffee machine.

He whips around as the machine whirs to life. Avery the book back down gently, and look up at him. He sets his jaw, brows knitted together, searching her face.

Maverick never taught Bradley anything like that. In fact — Bradley always, always was taught the opposite. You never take the easy way out; if something’s worth fixing, then you fix it right.

Then you, you on the other hand, beat the thing with the heaviest book you can find? He just doesn’t get it.

“Well. Thanks.” He guesses, turning his bemused expression back to the brewing coffee. 

He hadn’t been expecting you to do that. Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out, given the way he’s still glaring at the machine. That coffee pot is older than you are, and Mav never taught him that trick?

“So this guy, the one who called me,” Avery skims her fingers along the cool granite countertop, just to have something to do, “He was the guy calling the shots up there?”

Bradley blinks. He doesn’t know how much she knows about the way all of this works. He knew everything there is to know long before he ever enlisted, but that was because he wanted to know.

“Um,” Bradley grabs his mug and takes a step back for her to get herself one.  “He was our mission command so, kind of. He gives orders — but, y’know, everything happens fast, it’s… it’s hard to call the shots from back on the boat.” 

“Did he like Mav much?” She asks, head tucked inside the fridge door as you scan for anything to make her coffee a little less black. Nothing. A couple of beers and a block of good German cheese. She swings it shut with a resigned sigh, wondering if she’ll be here long enough to need groceries.

The thought flashes across her mind — what’ll happen to this place when she leaves it behind?

“Uh... No, not really.” After a routine training presentation at the very beginning of their attachment, Admiral Simpson had once become so agitated by Maverick that he snapped his own reading glasses in half. Mav got a good laugh out of it, at least.

“Great.” Agitation creeps into her tone as she curls her fingers around a plain white coffee mug. All of his kitchenware is plain white. 

“What?” Bradley tilts his head, trying to catch a glimpse at the look on her face, stuck between whether she’s sad or pissed off.

It’s an easy answer, rolling off of her tongue with a shrug of her shoulders and a deflated sigh. “People usually put us in the same boat — if they don’t like him, they don’t like me.”

That’s something that he thinks he can understand. There’s not an instant dislike, but there’s a pity that he finds in the eyes of people who once knew his father. 

He screws his mouth up, shaking his head and reaching for her without thought. His palm claps against her shoulder, platonic and soothing, but the first time he has touched you nonetheless. “I’ll be there. He won’t say a thing.”

Glancing upward, while his palm lingers on her shoulder, her eyes flit across his features. He doesn’t know quite what she’s searching for, or whether she finds it. His fingers squeeze softly against her skin before the touch is gone all together.

They drink their coffees in parallel, both subtly miserable in their silence but comfortable in it anyway. It’s difficult to prepare for a meeting like this — she doesn’t have a clue of what to expect. 

Bradley wears black jeans and boots with a plain white t-shirt, which convinces her not to wear the more formal dress she had thought she’d have to wear. She slips into his passenger seat in a skirt and Mary Janes.

He drives a loud, blue vintage Bronco. It sparkles inside and out, and makes her dusty old car look even worse. 

Bradley settles behind the wheel to the sound of chilled seventies music, the radio turned low. He drives with three fingers curled around the bottom of the wheel and the other hand resting absently on the stick shift.

Even though he seems calm enough behind the wheel, she watches him chew at the inside of his cheek for the duration of the drive. Gears tick away inside his head. His knee only stops bouncing nervously when it’s time to press his foot against the pedal.

He’s not as good at pretending as he thinks he is; she silently appreciates that he tries, either way.

Bradley, truthfully, spends the entire drive thinking about the last time he was face to face with Admiral Simpson. ‘Son, I’m doing this for you.’ He had sworn, face sullen, uttering the exact same words Pete Mitchell once had when delivering the words that had torn Bradley from him the first time.

Only, Admiral Simpson wasn’t pulling Bradley’s papers — he was just putting him on a month long bereavement leave. His protests had fallen on deaf ears once again, as they had fifteen years ago. He’s now a week into that leave, but it feels like longer.

It turns out that when sleep is cut from the equation, everything feels a lot longer. In his own apartment, his routine has been getting up at 2am after hours of tossing and turning, going for a run all the way down to the docks, coming back and showering, then waiting for the sun to rise.

Last night, he’d been awake in that creaky old twin bed, struck by the realisation that if he spent all night tossing and turning — one, he might actually break the old bed frame, and two, the squeaking of it would definitely keep Avery up. 

All it had taken was the focus of trying to sit still for so long to finally knock him out. It was the best that he’d slept since the mission.

He kind of hopes that it’ll take him a while to figure out something to do with her car; at least that way he’ll be able to sleep at night. 

“You ready?” His voice startles Avery from her daydream, the engine cutting out with a jingle of the keys as he stretches forwards in his seat to shove them into his pocket. “We’re headed just over there.”

“Yeah, let’s get this over with.” She’s stepping down and swinging the heavy door shut before she’s taking her next breath, leaving him to catch up to her. 

His long strides have him at her side before long, reaching ahead of her to pull open the glass door to the post headquarters. 

This process has already been easier with him at her side. He’d coolly handed over his service ID and greeted the guard at the gate by name, and he stops her from turning sharply down the wrong hallway with a soft bump of his shoulder against hers.

He catches her forearm as she tries to blow right past the front desk, his grip loose but firm. 

“Rooster.” The woman behind the desk stands up sharply, looking sharp in her service khakis, her entire face creased with a deep worry. She’s older, maybe around Mav’s age. “I heard, I’m so sorry.”

Rooster loosens his hold on her forearm, his lips flattening into a line. He stands up straight, his interaction with the woman nothing if not totally polite. His thumb trails across the bend of her wrist as he nods his head towards her.

“Thank you,” He says softly, seemingly unaware of the way Avery has stiffened in the presence of this woman. “We’re, uh… we’re just here to see Cyclone, Lynn.”

Her warm, brown eyes whip towards Avery, widening. Recognition floods her features as she pieces together who the girl at Bradley's side must be. 

Her boots hit the ground, Avery's lips parting slightly as she realises that this stranger is headed right for her. Bradley feels Avery's arm tug in his grip and turns his head, taking note of the way she's trying to shrink behind him.

Lynn is a hugger by nature, and she was a good friend of Mav’s for a long time. She means well, but Bradley isn’t going to let her touch Avery when he can see how unnerved it makes her.

“We’re a little late. I’ll catch you at the O-Bar this weekend?” His fingers uncurl from her forearm and his palm falls flat between her shoulder blades, giving her a gentle nudge and silent permission to avoid Lynn's hug.

The woman stops and there’s another polite, departing exchange between the two of them while Avery continues down the hall.

Bradley catches up to her as she raps her knuckles against the doorframe, fingers trembling when they come to settle back against her thighs.

“Miss Mitchell.” A chair scrapes along the tiled floor, Cyclone’s signature rumbling voice carrying out into the hallway. His boots tap across the ground, his face creased with sincerity and his hand outstretched when he notices Bradley standing behind the young woman he had arranged this meeting with. “Bradley Bradshaw.”

Avery checks back over her shoulder, glancing briefly at the man behind her, who has assumed his best bodyguard impression. 

Standing tall, his uniform crisp and his greying black hair combed neatly, Admiral Beau Simpson slips his palm into hers and shakes her hand curtly. The sunlight catches on his shining name badge, his face heavy with lines and sharp angles.

Letting her hand go, he then reaches to her right to shake Bradley’s. Bradley’s chest bumps her back as he leans into the handshake.

Avery steps away from him, angling yourself closer to the doorframe. “He just gave me a ride here. Is it okay if he comes in?”

“Of course,” Cyclone is far more polite to her than he has ever been to Bradley. “Anything you need. Please, take a seat.”

It feels a little bit wrong standing before his boss in jeans, and sitting before him. Everything about this feels a little bit wrong. Bradley rests his chin against his fist.

Avery sits in the chair beside him, shoving your trembling hands under your thighs, straightening up and trying to look as brave as you can. 

It shouldn’t be this stranger sitting beside you in this meeting — your mother should have come with you.

“Miss Mitchell,” The admiral takes his seat on the other side of his desk once again. “I want to first express my deepest condolences. Your father was a good man, and a… extremely skilled pilot.”

Bradley almost scoffs. Even now, Cyclone can’t manage to compliment him, not really.

“We are forever grateful for his service, and the sacrifices he made on behalf of our country. I understand that this is an extremely difficult time, and I’d just like to say that I’m going to personally make sure that this process is as easy as it can possibly be.”

Avery blinks at him. Jet engines rumble on outside of the window. People bustle on outside of the closed office door.

Cyclone glances towards Bradley. 

“When a man is lost in action, our resolve is to initiate a search and rescue effort as soon as possible,” The admiral explains, leaving out the part where that search and rescue effort had been delayed by seventy-two hours after Mav disappeared. “We’ve been working tirelessly, and our efforts to locate your father are ongoing.”

Her brows knit together, lips pursed, unimpressed.

“But— he’s dead.” She frowns abruptly, rendering Cyclone suddenly quiet. “He’s got to be. It’s been a week. No food, no water, sub-zero temperature. What’s the point in looking?”

Bradley grits his teeth. He looks across at her, her words like a jolt of ice-cold water, the muscle in his jaw ticking. There’s nothing in her expression, no fear or sadness. Pete deserved more than that.

“The point is to bring him home.” He bites from her side, staring straight ahead at Cyclone.

She shoots him a look. When it’s clear that she isn’t going to say anything else, Cyclone clears his throat to continue. 

“Miss Mitchell, we do have to prepare ourselves for the other outcome. If recovery efforts are unsuccessful, in two weeks time, he will be listed as formally ‘Missing in Action’. If that’s the case, we will honor him with a memorial service and all of his service records and personal effects are delivered to you.”

She drags her teeth across her plush bottom lip, swallowing hard and giving a small nod of her head. Closing her eyes for a moment, she pictures the moment that this is all over. She can get out of here and pretend it never happened.

“Okay. Two weeks?”

“This is going to be a longer process,” Cyclone warns her. He’d heard that she had come down specially for this, and he doesn’t want to mislead her about the time frame. “The recovery mission, if unsuccessful, will be suspended in two weeks’ time. After that, we’d like you to be local for the investigation.”

“Investigation?”

“Of ourselves. To ensure that the Navy had performed its due diligence, that kind of thing… I’d expect us to be here for a good few months.” He explains.

After that, it’s like Bradley can see a switch flip for her. 

She’s biting at the inside of her cheek so hard that she must be tasting copper, picking at the seam of her skirt and breathing like she’s trying not to cry.

He’s still confused when he’s all but chasing her across the parking lot, listening to her try to control her breathing.

“Hey, hey, hey,” He tries, approaching her cautiously as she crowds herself against the passenger side of his car. “It’s alright. We’ll get through it, it’s just a couple of months.”

“I— fuck. I don’t want to be here. I-I— I’m going to have to find a job, and I’ll have to call my mom, and— and my friends, and—“

“Hey,” Bradley mumbles, resisting the instinct to throw his arms around her. His brows draw together as he reaches out and squeezes her bicep, bending his knees so he can catch her eye. “It’s alright. I’ll take care of it.”

Avery knows that he’s just trying to be nice, but really, she’s sick of nice. It’s all that Maverick ever was and it left her with no idea of who he really is. “Of what? There’s so much that I have to—“

He nods, closing his mouth, swallowing dryly. Thinking of what he can, feasibly, take off of her plate for her. The idea sparks in him.

“You need a job. I can get you a job. Um, your friends, we can call them and bring them down for a weekend?” He squeezes again at her bicep, nodding his way through his plans, trying to will the tears in her eyes not to spill over.

She sniffs, turning her gaze towards the ground. The lump in Avery’s throat burns and bobs as she tries to swallow it away. 

Mav really is never coming back.

“I don’t want to go back to his house.” It comes out as a whimper, and really just reminds Bradley that she is in the same position that he was when he was just a little younger than her. It’s a scared kid type of feeling, being all alone in the world. Being in an empty house had made it even worse.

He licks his lips and glances towards the skies, watching the sun pass behind a cloud. 

“You could stay at my place, for a night or two.” 

…

[bloatedandalone04]

Crossing that Line

➪the one where you and bradley drive each other crazy in more ways than one, but would do anything for each other, and all it takes is one confession to solidify your places in each others lives.

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, swearing, fluff, hint of angst, pining to the max, a whole lot of smut tbh

Word Count: 6.1k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | Happy Birthday, Rooster !

The relationship you had with Bradley was…a weird one, to put it simply.

He pisses you off more than anyone you’ve ever met, and you drive him up the wall nearly every day, but you also couldn’t stand to be away from one another. He was your person, and you were his best friend; you would do anything for each other without an ounce of hesitation. 

It was stupid, how hard you found yourself falling for him. The guy who had more confidence than he should, the guy who’s saved your ass more times than you can count, and the guy who’s taken hits for you during training, just so you wouldn’t have to hear about it later from the other guys. 

The only thing is; you had no idea how he felt about you. He was cocky, confident and hid his feelings annoyingly well, you had no clue if the shared stares meant the same thing to him that they did to you, or if you were mistaking his comments for shameless flirting. 

You couldn’t lose him, so you kept it bottled up for the last two years, and it’s been complete and utter hell. But you’d keep doing it. Because there was no telling what he was thinking sometimes, and if he was thinking about you. 

The day was slowly coming to an end, and nearly everyone was heading to the barracks, but not you. Instead of going to your room, you made your way to the hangar, knowing who you would find in there. You turn the corner and lean against the wall, crossing your arms as you watch Bradley mess around with his  F/A-18. 

You tried not to focus on the way the muscles in his neck flexed with every move of his arm, the small amount of oil littering his skin making him shine a bit as the sun set behind you. “Hey, Bradshaw,” you greet before he could turn and catch you staring at him. “Nice flying today.”

You could see the way his body shifted in recognition of your voice, and when he turned to glance over at you, he was smirking. “Hey there, Y/n/n,” he said, wiping his hands on his flight suit. “Nice to see you haven’t crashed and burned yet.”

Shaking your head, you ignore the fact that it was just you and him left in the hangar now. “Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

Bradley shrugged, grabbing a cloth from off a table and wiping his hands. “Could be kinda entertaining,”

You gasp, placing your hand over your heart. “Wow, ouch,” you mumble. “And here I am thinking I’d probably be heartbroken if the same thing were to happen to you.”

He laughed, turning to face you. “Please, we both know you’d be the first one to poke fun at me for crashing,”

You press your lips together and shrug. “Yeah, probably, but I’d also be the first one to make it over to you,”

Really, you’d probably die of a broken heart if something were to happen to him, but he didn’t need to know that right now. Or ever. 

Bradley’s smirk softened and he looked down at his boots. “I know you would,”

And now you were picturing what it would be like to live without him, and you could feel yourself beginning to panic a bit. 

Smiling, you shake your head again before giving him a conflicted look, wanting nothing more than to walk over to him and press the neediest kiss to his lips and tell him you were so fucking in love with him. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Bradley,” you say quietly, watching as his brows furrow.

“Wait,” he said, making you hold off on leaving just yet. “Something on your mind?”

“No,” you say too quickly for it to sound true. “Nope. I’m fine, Rooster. I’ll leave you alone now.”

His eyes narrow and he throws the cloth somewhere behind him as he steps towards you. “Why are you lying to me?”

You let out a surprised laugh, pushing yourself off the wall. “I’m not,”

“Uh huh,” he hummed, moving so he’s standing right in front of you. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Your face heats up and you quickly look away, squinting as your gaze meets the bright sunset. “Okay,” you trail off, glancing at him one last time before stepping away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Bradley.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, maybe continue to call you out on your awful attempt at lying to his face, but his shoulders dropped slightly as he nodded casually. “Yeah, okay,” he agreed, moving away from you and back towards his jet. “See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

Oh, how you loved and fucking hated when he called you that. It made you crave him even more than you usually do, and it also made you want to punch him square in the face for having such a strong effect on you. 

“Don’t overthink too much,” he added, glancing back at you with a teasing smirk. 

“I’ll try,” you whisper, and no more words are shared as you leave the hangar and quickly walk across base and towards the barracks. 

-

Bradley knew you weren’t telling him something the second he saw your conflicted look before you tried playing it off right after. He wanted to push you on it more, but wasn’t sure if he even had the right to since it was pretty rare for things to become serious like that between the two of you. 

He was still in the hangar, the arms of his flight suit now tied around his waist as he finally decided to stop touching his jet and leave it alone for the rest of the night. Like usual, his thoughts were taken over by you, and he wondered what would’ve happened if he didn’t let you leave so easily earlier. What could he have gotten you to say? Why did you suddenly become so closed off and serious in the middle of your usually playful banter? 

He almost didn’t want to know, but he also kinda wanted to know. 

It was late, but not too late for it to be deemed unacceptable for him to stop by your room before retiring to his for the night. So instead of taking the first hallway in the barracks corridor, he went past it and turned left a few feet down the hall, instantly recognizing your room without him even meaning to. 

Bradley debated on whether or not he wanted to intrude on your night or save it for tomorrow, but with you he often found himself saying fuck it and hoping for the best. So he knocked.

After waiting for only a few seconds, the door opened and you poke your head out with guarded eyes, your gaze softened once you saw that it was him. “Bradley?” 

He smiled, crossing his arms and leaning against the frame, mirroring your stance back in the hangar. “Hey,” he greeted. “Hope I’m not bothering you too late.” 

You shake your head and smooth out your messy hair, and he knew you were probably in bed, trying to sleep but failing miserably to do so. During one of your thousand talk sessions, you mentioned how much you hated sleeping in the small, single beds here and couldn’t wait to start looking for apartments in the area. Bradley hated them, too, not because he couldn’t fit properly in them, but because whenever he laid down for the night, he was reminded of just how fucking lonely he really is. “No, you’re fine,” you give him a tight smile, one he knew was played up. Still, it was a pretty one nonetheless. “What’s up?”

Bradley’s gaze raked down your body, subtly checking out your attire of a loose, long sleeve button up and leggings. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. You seemed off the last time we talked,”

“What, a few hours ago after a day of being in the air?” You laugh, running your hands down your face as you avoid eye contact with him. Now he knew you were hiding something for sure. “Yeah, I’m good. Great, even. I’m great.” 

Bradley raises his brows, a huff escaping his lips after. “You are such a terrible liar,” he grunted, watching as you immediately looked down to the floor. “See, you can’t hide anything from me, sweetheart. Just tell me what’s up.”

You looked up at him with an expression he’s never really seen on you before, and it had him straightening up a bit. “You’re really not going to drop this, are you?”

“No,”

You glance down at the floor, pulling at the sleeves of your shirt. “I didn’t mean what I said earlier,” you confessed quietly. 

Bradley’s gaze softened and he tried to get you to look at him, but you weren’t letting up. “What part?”

You shrugged, keeping your head down. “About how I would laugh if you crashed and burned,” you whispered. “I wouldn’t laugh.”

Bradley tenses up a bit at the sudden change in tone and atmosphere, looking around your small and neat room. “I know you wouldn’t, I was just messing with you,” like we usually do.

“No, Bradley,” you mumbled, still not looking at him. “I mean it. I’d be devastated if that were to happen to you.”

“Hey,” he said softly, reaching over to gently grip your chin with his thumb and forefinger. “I know…I know. I was just messing around…I didn’t expect…” He trailed off, suddenly aware of how close he had gotten to you. He had never touched you like this before, only ever going as far as a quick hug after a risky mission or a dangerous stunt in the air. 

You furrowed your brows as you met his gaze with guarded eyes. “Didn’t expect what?” 

Bradley inches even closer. “I didn’t expect that you’d care this much,”

Your eyes widen a bit as you look up at him. “Of course I care,” you gasped in disbelief, laughing after and breaking eye contact again. “Maybe too much.”

But he didn’t let your eyes wander far as he still had a hold on your chin, and he guided your face back to his. “What do you mean by that? ‘Too much’?” He asked, his eyes wide, any traces of his earlier teasing gone. 

You give him a pleading look. “You know what I mean,” 

Bradley held your gaze, noting your frustrated expression. “Maybe I do,” he murmured, caressing your jaw with his thumb. “But I want to hear you say it.”

“I can’t,” you shake your head and he could see the way you played with your fingers out of the corner of his eye.

“Why not?” He pressed, invading your space with another step. “What are you so afraid to tell me?”

You give him another pleading look, but he doesn’t step away. “I’m afraid of putting something out there that I can’t take back,” 

When you moved to step away, Bradley’s hands reached for your hips, anchoring you in place. He had never been this close to you before, never touched you like this before, and it was driving him insane. “Tell me,”

“Bradley,” 

His gaze intensifies, his head dipping down closer to yours. “Say it, sweetheart,”

Your eyes were wide with anxiety as you parted your lips to speak. “I…I’m in love with…you,”

Though he had a small feeling that he knew - or maybe hoped -  you were going to say that, his breath still got caught in his throat. His heart was beating loudly in his ears, and his skin was on fire. No one had ever made him feel this way with a single sentence, and he wasn’t all that surprised that it was you. “You’re in love with me?” He asked, needing to hear it for confirmation. 

A blush takes over your face as you shake your head and step away. “I-I didn’t…fuck, I’m sorry, I don’t-” you stuttered and he could see the tears gathered along your eyes. “I just messed everything up. I knew I would.”

Bradley’s eyes widen at the sudden loss of contact, and he shakes his head, too. “No, no, wait. Don’t…don’t apologize,” he rasped, running his hands through his hair. “Don’t be sorry. It’s…it’s okay.”

You stare at the floor and nod. “Okay,”

Your heart was on your sleeve now, and he knew he had to be careful. “Sweetheart…look at me,” he softly demands, stepping towards you and closing the distance you created. 

“Can’t…I can’t,” you quickly shook your head but he lifted your chin with his fingers. 

“Please,” he whispered. “Look at me.”

Slowly, your teary eyes met his and you looked like you were already building walls up to protect yourself from him, and that was the last thing he wanted. Seeing your eyes glazed over like this was damn near enough to break his heart, and Bradley took a step closer to you. 

“There you are,” he whispered, gently stroking your chin with his thumb. He held your gaze, a mixture of embarrassment, vulnerability and uncertainty. “You have no idea.”

You furrowed your brows, trying to blink away the tears as you trembled in front of him. “No idea about what?” You asked, your voice barely above a murmur. 

Bradley kept his eyes locked on yours, ensuring you knew just how serious his next words are. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited and wanted…hoped to hear you say that to me,” he confessed, watching as your eyes widened. “I never thought you felt the same way, so I never let myself think about it too much.”

Your breath audibly caught in your throat as you stuttered, “W-what?”

He smiled, his usual cocky and confident facade fading as the seconds went on. “You’re the one person, the only person I could never figure out fully. I could never tell if you wanted me as badly as I wanted you, or if you just saw me as the guy you bickered with all the time,” he continued. “You’re the one person who doesn’t care about how full of myself I am sometimes, you called me out on it. And ever since then, I couldn’t get you out of my head.”

“Bradley,” you gasped quietly, and he could see your walls starting to come down again, so he pushed further, 

“And hearing you say that…that you’re in love with me…” he trailed off, moving his fingers from your chin and tracing them along your jaw. “It felt like I could finally have the one thing I thought I never could.” 

You swallow hard, your eyes wide and vulnerable as he closes the distance further, leaving a few inches between the two of you. His fingers curled around your jaw and his thumb tugged at your bottom lip, his gaze flickering down for a few seconds. 

“God, baby,” he whispered in disbelief. “Hearing you say that…it’s all I ever wanted. You get under my skin like no one else, and you make me want to pull my hair out, but I can’t fight the way I feel about you anymore. Not after this.”

“Bradley,” you say again, at a loss for words as you reach up and grip his wrist, leaning into his touch. 

“Sweetheart,” he murmured. “Will you say it again? Please?”

He couldn’t believe he was begging to hear your words again, but the way your expression softened had him not giving a single fuck. “Bradley, I’m in love with you,” 

His skin heated up as you repeated your words, and his control finally snapped. “Fuck…fuck,” he muttered, not wasting another second as he leaned in and kissed you. He poured all the nights he lost sleep thinking about you into the kiss, all the times he held back his own confession after your usual playful banter turned serious, all the times he thought about doing just this with you. 

You kissed him back desperately, a soft moan escaping your throat as you gripped his wrists tightly. Bradley wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your body right up against his as he deepened the kiss. He walks you backwards until your back hits the wall opposite from the door, pinning you to it as his hands roam all over your body. 

He couldn’t believe, after all the nights he spent fantasizing about this, that he was finally touching you like this. Your quiet gasps against his lips had his touch growing more possessive as he felt your hands slide up to grip his shoulders. His palms were flat against your body, feeling the heat of your skin through your clothes. “God, baby, you taste so good. You feel so good,” he murmurs once he breaks the kiss and begins trailing his lips along your jaw, his body pressing yours closer to the wall. 

“Oh, my God,” you moaned, your breath coming out heavy and uneven. “Bradley.”

He always knew his name would sound beautiful coming from your mouth like this, but actually hearing it was something else entirely. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he growled softly against your collar bone, his fingers lifting your shirt up so he could feel the smooth skin of your hips. “I’ve thought about this…about you for so long.” 

Your fingers moved up to his hair, where you pulled gently. “You’ve thought about me?”

“Yes,” he answered, burying his face against your neck as his hands inched further up your body under your shirt. “I think about you all the time. I tried not to, but I was fucked from the second I saw you.”

The surprised laugh you let out had his touch growing more urgent, the only thing on his mind being more ways he could get you to make those pretty sounds again. “Why didn’t you do anything about it?” 

Bradley lets out his own laugh, lifting his head from your neck as he raises a brow at you. “I could ask you the same question,” came his teasing reply as his hands slid up your back. “But really…you terrified me. I didn’t want to ruin things and mess up our friendship if you didn’t feel the same way.”

“So,” you trailed off, looking up at him with hopeful eyes. “What does this mean for our friendship? For us?”

He lifts a hand to your cheek, his thumb brushing against your bone as he answered, “It means that I can’t keep pretending that I don’t want you. That I don’t need you, sweetheart,�� he leaned in and pressed his forehead against yours. “It means we’re not just friends anymore.”

The smile you gave him had goosebumps forming on his skin and a wave of relief washing over him. “We’re not?”

Bradley shook his head. “No, baby, we’re not,” he confirmed, pressing his hips against yours as he placed a soft kiss to your lips. “You’re mine now, and I’m never letting you go.”

Your smile grows as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Bradley…I love you,”

He wraps his arms around your waist again as a warmth spreads all throughout his body. “I love you, too. So fucking much,” he mumbles before capturing your lips in another desperate, needy kiss. His tongue pokes out and nudges your lips apart, a deep groan leaving his throat as you pull at his hair. “Fuck, baby…been dying to taste you like this.” He breaks the kiss just long enough to whisper against your lips before going back in, his fingers moving to the buttons on your shirt. 

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you say against his lips. “This is happening, right? This is real?”

Bradley pulls away to be able to look you in the eyes. “It’s real, sweetheart,” he said softly before beginning to unbutton your shirt. “I can’t believe you feel the same way about me.”

“You can’t believe I love you?” You tease, biting down on your wet, swollen lips. 

His gaze darkens as he gets the final button undone, and then he lets the fabric slide off your shoulders. “Yeah. Been wanting to hear you say that for years,” he grunted, sliding his hands up your bare arms. “Been wanting to touch you like this.”

“And now that you can?” You asked in a breathless voice, staring up at him with a look he knew would be permanently burned into his mind. 

“Now that I can,” he started, his hands tracing the curve of your hips as his eyes raked over your chest. “I’m going to do everything I've been dreaming about doing to you...and then some.”

You moan, nodding quickly and making his lips turn upwards into a smirk. 

His hands move to the front of your leggings, his fingers teasing the thin fabric as his tongue runs along the smooth skin of your neck. “You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this...about having you like this,”

“I think I might have an idea,” you mumbled, tugging at his undershirt. 

Bradley grinned, feeling that warmth return and take over his body again. He pulled away to tug off his shirt and toss it to the side, then he was close to you again. “Yeah? Have you thought about me, too, baby?”

“Nearly every day,” you confessed as his hands moved back to your hips, his thumbs slipping past the waistline of your leggings as he slowly pulled them down. “Nearly every night.”

He groaned at your confession, helping you kick off the flimsy fabric before he was grabbing your hips again. “Fuck, sweetheart, you’ve been driving me crazy for so long,”

Your head tilts back and rests against the wall as his lips pepper kisses all along the base of your throat. “You’ve been making me go insane for years, Bradley,” 

“You’re not the only one who’s been losing your mind over this,” he laughed, sliding his hands up your body until he was caressing the underside of your bra. “I hoped that this would pass, but it never did. The more time we spent together, the more impossible it became. I had this burning need to have you, touch you, taste you.”

He emphasized his words by gripping your hips and spinning you around so your back was pressed against his chest. Your gasp had his boxers tightening, his tongue tracing random shapes onto the skin behind your ear. 

“The way you smile, laugh, and those fucking looks you give me,” he ranted, his breath fanning across your neck. “All the time we’ve spent together, I had to stop myself from taking you right then and there.”

When his hands slid down your body and pulled you closer to him, you moaned loudly, leaning your head back to rest against his shoulder. 

“The sounds you make for me, fuck,” he moaned, tugging on curve of your ear with his teeth. “All I’ve been wanting is to see you fall apart for me, to hear you scream for me…beg for me.”

 “Bradley,” you moaned again, leaning into his touch as his hands found the fabric of your bra, his fingers toying with the straps. 

“I’ve needed you so badly,” he rasped, pulling the strap off your shoulder before leaning down to kiss the newly exposed skin. “I finally have you all to myself. I’m never letting you go.”

“Don’t let me go,” you begged, gripping his forearms tightly. “Please.” 

“Never,” he said in a deep voice. “You’re mine now; mine to taste all over, to make scream.” He grabs your chin, gently turning your head so he could place a firm kiss to your mouth.

You moan, reaching behind you to tug on his hair as you pressed your body against his. “I want that,” you whine and he kisses you deeper, brushing his tongue against yours. 

His fingers played with the clasp of your bra, and soon enough he had the lacy fabric sliding down your arms and landing on the floor. “I need to see you,” he nearly begged, breaking away from your lips as he groped your breasts with dark eyes. 

“Well?” You asked, breathless from his touch as you rolled your hips back against him. 

“Damn, baby, you’re so beautiful,” he commented, leaning down to suck a mark onto the side of your neck. “Been dreaming about how gorgeous you’d look all bare for me, how sweet you’d taste and how pretty you’d sound.” His thumbs slid over your nipples, the devoted attention he was giving them making you whimper. 

“Oh, God,” you bit your lip to stifle the sounds that were coming out of you more frequently now. 

“Don’t hold back, baby,” he mumbled, softly pulling at your nipples with his thumb and index fingers. “I wanna hear all those sounds you make for me.”

You oblige almost immediately, moaning as he continues to worship your chest. “I can’t believe I get to have you like this,” 

“Believe it,” he grunted, smoothing his palms over your hardened nipples as he placed open mouthed kisses on your neck. 

Your body started to shake against his, your perfect lips parting as you let out a string of whimpers. “Feels so good,”

“I’ve barely started,” he cooed, pressing his hardness against your lower back. “You feel perfect in my arms, baby.”

“I want you,” you whined, squeezing your legs together. “I want you so bad.”

“I want you, too,” he groaned, slowly rolling his body into yours, his cock growing impossibly hard. “So badly.”

His hands caressed your breasts in a feather light touch, and he felt goosebumps against his palms as you gasped. “Your hands…I’ve always wanted to feel them on me,” 

“Yeah?” He teased, tracing his fingers around your nipples again, slowly but surely working you into a whiny mess for him.

“Yeah,” you huff, shaking even more. “Holy fuck, you feel so good.”

“So do you,” he growled, pinching your breasts before sliding his hands down your body. “I love touching you like this, but I need to feel more of you.” He murmured, turning you around in his arms so he could get a good look at you.

The way you were pressing your thighs together and the lust he could see in your eyes had him biting down hard on his lip, the sight of you only in a pair of lace panties doing things to him. “Please,” you whined, guiding his hand down your body. 

His eyes rolled back slightly as he leaned his head down and began kissing your shoulders, his hand sliding down your damp panties. “You want me to touch you here?” He asked, knowing damn well what your answer is. 

“Yes, please,” you gave in so sweetly, kicking the ruined fabric aside as you stepped back into his arms. 

He presses kisses to your shoulders as his hand reaches out, his fingers running along your core. “Fuck, baby, you’re so wet,” he groaned, his cock throbbing as he felt just how worked up he made you. 

“All for you,” came your instant reply. Bradley’s eyes darkened as he circled your clit with his middle finger, the way you were trembling against him being the hottest sight he had ever seen.  “Oh, my God, yes.”

“There you go, baby,” he praised, sinking his fingers into your heat. “Give it to me, let me hear you.”

You let out another loud moan, reaching for his flight suit and practically shoving it down his legs. “I need you,” you said desperately. “I need you so bad.”

He could tell. Your wetness was dripping onto his hand as you spoke. 

Bradley kicked off his boots and added his suit to the pile of clothes on the floor, his hands gripping the backs of your thighs as he picked you up and carried you over to your bed. He set you down on your back, his lips pressing to yours as he rolled his hips. “I need you, too,” he promised, pulling away from your lips and settling his head in between your legs. “But I need to taste this pretty pussy first.”

Then he was licking a stripe up your folds and making your back arch off the bed. “Fuck!” You called out, the slick sound of his tongue against you bouncing throughout the room. “Oh, my fucking God, Bradley.”

He laughed, wrapping his arms around your thighs as he slid his tongue inside your wet walls, his eyes rolling back at your taste. “Goddamn, sweetheart,” he moaned, sucking and licking at you like a starved man. “You taste so fucking good, baby.”

“Bradley,” you moaned loudly. “Please, fuck me. I need you…right now.”

His eyes darken even more as he crawls back up your body, and you push his boxers down quickly. You wrap your legs around his waist, bucking your hips up so your core brushes against his aching cock. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby,” 

Your brows furrow as he grips his base and guides himself inside you, your back arching again as you wrap your arms around him. “I love you,”

Bradley groaned, your wetness allowing him to sink all the way inside with one thrust. “God, I love you so much,” he said back, holding you against his body as he began to rock his hips against yours. “So much.”

He moved deep inside you, the feeling of skin on skin with nothing in between making his head spin. He hadn’t even asked if you wanted him to use a condom - and he knew it would’ve been a hard task to tear himself away from you and go to his room to get one, but he would’ve done it willingly - but you both seemed too lost in each other to think about it right now. 

You felt so good. Bradley has never been this hard in his entire life, and he knew it was all because of you. “You feel so perfect,” he praised, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt you clench around him. “So tight…fuck.”

“Bradley,” you moaned, wrapping your legs tighter around him as he slowly fucked you against the matress. “You’re so big.”

Your words went right through him, a sense of pride filling him as he looked down at you with lust filled eyes. “You’re so tight,” he echoed his previous words, fucking into you harder but still keeping his pace slow. “So tight for me.”

Your eyes widened and you dropped your head against your pillow. “My fucking God, Bradley,” you gasped, shifting your hips to meet his thrusts. “Yes.”

“Say my name again,” he softly demanded before leaning down to suck a mark onto your neck. “Tell me who’s making you feel so good right now…who’s stretching you so good right now.”

“Bradley!” You cry out, pressing your chest right up against his. “I’ve wanted this for so long…knew you’d feel so good.”

“Baby,” he rasped, fucking into you faster. “You feel so much better than I could have ever imagined.”

Your arousal was dripping onto his thighs as he fucked you harder, his hips hitting yours harshly as he let all the pining and desire he’s felt for you pour out of him. “Don’t stop, please please please,” you begged for him just like he wanted, your hands pulling at his hair. 

He grunted, his eyes flickering down to where you connected. “I’m not stopping, sweetheart, I can’t,” he huffed, watching the way his cock became more and more coated in your wetness with each thrust. “You feel too good, I need you.”

“Yes…yes,” you cried, digging your heel into his lower back and driving him even deeper inside you. “Oh, fuck.”

“Say my name,” he mumbled against your skin, not caring that the walls were pretty thin and anyone who may be in the hallway would definitely be able to hear you. “Say it again.”

“Bradley!” You moaned, scratching your nails down his back. 

His movements were fast, uneven and uncontrolled now as he hiked one of your legs higher around his waist, angling his body so he could push himself impossibly deeper. “That’s my girl,” he cooed, feeling the way you clenched around him at his words. “My girl.”

“Your girl,” you repeated, looking up at him with hooded eyes. 

“Yeah,” he whispered, leaning down so his lips brushed against yours. “My girl.” 

He kissed you deeply, fucking you hard into the bed meant for one person, the sound of your muffled moans filling the room. “God, Bradley, you feel so good…so full,”

Your words were slurred as if you were drunk, but both of you were completely sober right now as you gave into your need for one another. “You feel so good, too,” he mumbled. “So perfect…so tight and wet for me.”

His words were as equally as filthy as yours were, and he couldn’t remember the last time he let himself get this lost in someone; to the point where he couldn’t care less about how dirty his mouth was. 

“I’ve never felt anything better than you, baby,” he swore, reaching down to rub your swollen and puffy clit. “Nothing compares.”

Your jaw goes slack as you let out moan after moan, his words clearly having an effect on you. “I’m so close,” 

“Yeah, I can feel it,” he groaned, rubbing and fucking you harder. His voice was rough and thick with desire, his breaths coming out ragged and uneven. “I want you to come for me. I need to feel you come.”

“Bradley! Right there,” you nearly screamed, clinging onto him with a death grip. “Right there.”

He hummed, “Just like that, baby,” he circled your clit faster, watching as you began to shake. “Come for me.”

Your body jolted and trembled under him, your release flooding around him and soaking his cock. “Oh, fuck. Fuck!” You cried, squeezing your eyes shut as you dug your nails into his shoulders.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he cooed, kissing all over your face as he felt his own release creeping up on him. “God, I never want this to end.”

You whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck and messily kissing him. He could feel you shaking still, but you didn’t ask him to stop or pull out, instead you just pulled him closer to you and whined against his lips. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, kissing you softly as he got closer and closer. “So perfect.”

“I want you to come for me,” you mumbled in between kisses. 

Bradley groaned, licking along your lips. “I want that, too,” he said. “I wanna come for you…only you.”

“Only me,” you whispered with a lazy smile, slowly rolling your hips to meet his thrusts.

He nodded, his eyes nearly shut as he managed to ask, “Where? Where can I-”

“Inside me,” you answered, your heel on his back keeping him from pulling out too much. “I want it inside me.”

Bradley’s eyes squeezed shut as he felt his control snap. “Fuck…fuck, I’m coming, baby,” he groaned deeply, fucking his seed into your abused core. You moan quietly, running your fingers through his sweaty hair as his body shakes from the intensity of it all. He had never come that hard before, and when he slowly came to a stop, he could feel it seeping around him and dripping out of you. He also never came that much before. “That….that was-”

“I know,” you beamed, kissing him softly as you kept your legs wrapped around him. “I love you so much.”

Bradley smiles down at you, kissing you back. “I love you, too,” he promised as he rolled you onto your sides, still buried inside you. 

“Stay with me?” You asked as you kissed along his salty skin. 

After years of wanting to experience this with you and have you all to himself, he was finally able to, and he wasn’t planning on ever leaving your side again. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,”

You smile, trailing your hand up and down his back. “So…what does this mean for us?”

Bradley tangles his fingers in your hair, holding you close to him. “I want to call you my girlfriend, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Will you let me?”

You close your eyes, letting out a quiet groan. “I want to be your girlfriend so badly,”

“Then it’s settled,” he stated, pulling you even closer as a grin tugged at his lips. “You’re my girlfriend.”

Your hands slide up to his shoulder as you kiss him. “And you’re my boyfriend,”

Bradley smiled as he kissed you back. “And I’m going to make sure I’m the best boyfriend you’ve ever had,”

“You better be the best and last,” you warn playfully, laying your head on his chest. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” he laughed, running his hand along your lower back. “You’re stuck with me.”

A blush takes over your face as you kiss the scar on his neck. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” 

-

They fucked again after that btw. Happy Birthday, Bradley Bradshaw!

[starsthewitch]

to all the aphobes who think that asexuals cant masterbate or at least enjoy sex, i’m going to recite a quote from ace youtuber, David J Bradley because he said it way better than i could.

“Attraction and Libido are two different things. I can masterbate for the pleasure-able, physical experience of that and still not feel sexual attraction towards other people.”

ace people aren’t broken or they haven’t found the right person yet. sometimes, people just want to enjoy pleasure

whether it be with themselves or someone else that they don’t necessarily have sexual attraction to, and that should be something thats completely normal

but to some allos, its not

why are you mad that WE aren’t getting laid or not feeling sexual attraction for the people we ARE laying with??

as an ace girlie myself, i don’t want sex. do i masterbate? yes! the only real time i think i would actually have sex with someone is if we have known each other for a long while. like long. then never have sex again

and so i can get to say “at least i didn’t die a virgin” on my death bed

that’s it, and thats all

[roostersbby69]

0.3 | I’ll be here for you

Summary: the one where you and Bradley tell your parents you’re expecting a baby at 18.

Warnings: teen pregnancy, Bradley’s mom is still alive currently

Pairing: teen Bradley x teen Mitchel!reader

“So, do you want to say it or me?” You asked as Bradley parked the Bronco in the driveway of his house.

“How about we do it together, and I’ll take the hits. Literally.”

You smiled and nodded, “Okay.”

Your belly wasn’t showing yet but you just felt like everyone could tell you were pregnant, like it was obvious.

The both of you walked up to the door and went inside and you caught sight of Carol fixing dinner. Bradley had asked if it was ok for you to come over and Carol was more than happy to set out an extra plate for you.

“Hey mom!” Bradley called through the house as he came behind you and closed the door.

She peeked behind the corner and smiled at the two of you, “Hey kiddos! Come in!”

Bradley smiled and walked with you to the kitchen and pulled out a chair for you at the table.

You thanked him and sat down, nervously, and watched as she took out a pan from the oven that was filled with roasted potatoes.

The kitchen smelled delicious, Mrs. Carol was an amazing cook and baker. She made the best homemade pancakes in the morning and potato soup in the winter. And her chocolate cake was to die for.

She came to you and pulled you in for a tight hug as she kissed the top of your head, “Hi sweet girl, how are you?”

You smiled and felt all warm inside, “I’m good, how are you?” Truth was you were not good, you were sweaty with anxiety, nervous, and your stomach was aching.

“I’m well, just whipping up a simple dinner.” She turned back to Bradley and kissed his cheek before going back to cooking.

Simple dinner was not the correct term for her dinners, they were over the top. The potatoes were buttered and steaming, the roast was spiced to perfection, the washed strawberries for the chocolate cake were sparkling with water droplets, and the kitchen smelled amazing.

Your stomach growled as you were happy you weren’t sick of a meal. She called Bradley for help with bringing the plates to the table and you got up to help, but Bradley placed a hand on your shoulder, “Sit down, it’s ok, you don’t have to get up.”

You nodded and sat back down as Carol brought the plate of potatoes and roast to the table. And Bradley brought the napkins and cutlery.

He placed a water in front of you and sat down in the chair across from you. Carol sat at the end and smiled at the perfect scene in front of her.

“Let’s eat!” She grabbed a fork and knife to cut the roast as you gave Bradley worried glances, You probably should’ve talked about when you would be having the conversation.

“It’s ok.” He mouthed which made you nod and fix your plate.

-

While eating, you talked about school and what your plans were. They were fake, since finding out you were pregnant, but you tried to make it seem as true as possible.

When you were finished, you pushed the plate away from you and placed your hands in your lap.

Bradley nervously gulped his water down as he eyed Carol, trying to find out when he should speak up.

And when you gave him a look he finally did.

“Hey mom?” He gripped his jeans between his fingers and felt his throat tighten.

“Yes honey?” She looked up and smiled.

You stared between them as he swallowed and stuttered, “Can we talk for a minute?”

She scrunched her brows and nodded, “Yeah what’s going on?”

He looked at you and saw your face was red and you were nervously chewing on your lip.

“Um,” he picked at his plate and sighed, “We uh,” he had no words, no words were forming in his mouth right now, “Well I uh,” his chest tightened as he looked at her confused eyes before he finally spit it out, “Y/n’s pregnant.”

The whole room went silent, you could hear the washer washing the clothes in the other room and could hear all three of you breathing.

She looked to you with a shocked face as she gasped, “What?”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, prepared for the cursing, before nodding your head slowly.

“By who?” She watched as your eyes lifted up to Bradley’s and she put two and two together.

“Bradley?” She whipped her head to him and he grimaced as she screamed three words he hadn’t heard out of her mouth since he egged his math teachers house, “What the fuck?!”

Carol had so many questions so she started off with the first one, “How did this happen?”

Bradley took a deep breath before opening his mouth and he heard your quiet voice speak before him, “It’s my fault.”

Both of them turned to you with wide eyes, “It isn’t.” Bradley immediately said while shaking his head, “We were studying and one thing lead to another and it just happened.” He tried to keep it as PG as possible for her.

“I talked to you about condoms Bradley!” She kept yelling at him. That was true, she had multiple talks about contraceptives and even one day, while brushing his teeth one morning, he found a box of condoms under the sink.

“I know, I’m sorry mom. She’s on birth control and we weren’t thinking.” He explained.

“I told you to not have sex with anyone you weren’t in a relationship with!”

That one hurt, your chest tightened as you felt tears welling up in your eyes. This was all your fault, why would this happen to you, you’ve never felt so embarrassed in all your life.

“I’ve gave you many talks before Bradley!”

“Mom, please clam down.” Bradley noticed the tears dripping down your cheeks and tried to calm her down.

“How? You got a girl pregnant! Let me rephrase that, you got Y/n pregnant!”

Bradley heard the scraping of the chair against the floor and watched as you got up and excused yourself from the room.

He turned to her and begged her to stop screaming, “Please mom, please calm down. It’s my fault not Y/n’s so don’t get upset with her.”

She sighed as she rest her head in her hands on the table, “Bradley, I have given you too many talks about safe sex by now and this is what you bring to me? I don’t mean to be rude but she’s your best friend. Not your girlfriend. I mean, did you talk about this before? Are you in a relationship?”

“No we aren’t in a relationship, it was something that just happened. We were at her house and things got carried away, things were moving really fast.”

It took a while to explain to her, but when she calmed down Bradley went to you in the bathroom.

“Y/n?” He softly knocked on the door and heard your quiet sniffles.

You unlocked the door and he slipped inside before shutting it behind him, his heart broke at your words, “She hates me.”

He pulled you into him and held you as you wiped the tears from your face, “No she doesn’t. If anything she’s mad at me.”

“I’m sorry this is happening, you don’t have to stay with me through this.” You cried into his chest.

“Stop, stop,” he grabbed your face and made you look at him, “Stop it, I’m not leaving you alone with this, I don’t care that my mom is mad at me. This is both of us.” He made you understand.

You nodded your head and sniffled as he wiped the tears away and pulled you into him for one last hug.

“It’ll be okay.”

-

Bradley had made sure you were ok and walked with you back into the living room where Carol was sitting.

You cautiously walked in and her eyes lifted up to yours, she immediately stood up and sighed.

And to your surprise, she pulled you in for a hug, “I’m sorry I yelled. It’s just this is a surprise, and you two are so young.”

You nodded in understanding, “I get it, it’s okay.”

“Have you told your dad yet? I’m sure the sooner the better.”

You shook your head and sighed, “I’ve been dreading it.”

“Don’t, he wouldn’t ever want anything to happen to you. He’ll be there when you need him.” She said.

If Carol acted this way about the situation, there was no telling how your dad would react. You’d just have to brace yourself for tomorrow.

—————————————————————

[ddejavvu]

Hi mei <3 I was terrified on the plane for no reason and it just made me think of how funny rooster would think a nervous flier is 😭😭 can I request what flying commercially with rooster would be like? thank u bestie

"Babe," Bradley's familiar voice comes from beside your ear, and you don't grant him the privilege of your gaze. Instead you keep your eyes screwed shut, and you feel him try to pry your hands off of the armrest between you.

"Come on," He laughs, not out of judgement, but absurdity, "You've gone up with me a hundred times!"

"This is different," You grit out, your teeth clenched hard enough to shatter the enamel, "You've been training for decades, you're the best of the best, and you fly a two-seater. There's two hundred people on this plane, and I saw the pilot flipping through a users' manual of the cockpit controls when we boarded."

"Well then he'll know exactly what to do," Bradley drawls, infuriatingly calm about the angry rumbling of the plane's engines as you speed down the runway. When the plane gains its first feet of air you groan, digging your nails hard enough into the armrest to puncture the plastic covering.

"Okay, you-" Bradley pinches your finger, not hard enough to hurt you, but hard enough to shock you into dropping your grip. You do so with a venomous look shot his way, but he scoops your hand into his own and kisses it undisturbed.

"You're gonna be fine." He promises, the fibers of his mustache tickling your knuckles, "Okay? I swear I won't let you die."

"What if this plane crashes, Bradley?" You keep your voice low, not wanting to worry any other nervous passengers.

He rolls his eyes fondly, "Then we'll take a nosedive into the sea. And I have extensive water survival training, which I will use to get us safely back to shore. Hell, I'll have us airlifted out, babe. Don't worry."

"I will stop worrying once my feet are on the ground again," You huff, but Bradley takes it as a good sign that you don't drop his hand. He pokes and prods at the screen in front of your face, strapped to the back of the chair in front of you.

"There, baby, Footloose. You like that one, yeah?"

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek as you contemplate his offer, the escape of a movie tantalizing in the face of your nerves. When he digs headphones out of his pocket and offers them to you with raised brows, you finally concede, taking them from him and jamming the connecter into its jack.

"Fine." You grumble, stuffing the earbuds into your ears, "But I swear to god, Bradley, if shit hits the fan, you'd better save me."

"I will." He vows, grinning as he steals the earbud from the ear furthest away from him, and replaces it in his own left ear to watch the movie with you, "I'll beat a bunch of old people out of the way to the lifeboat for you, honey."

[pigfacedbitch]

HIIII I'm a big fan of your work and I really love it your writing is amazing , this may be a weird request and if your uncomfortable you don't have to do it , it's fine I completely understand, so it's like merlin and Arthur and the reader and they are all soulmates and it's there first time meeting each other . Thank you in advance

Modern! Reader Gets Transported to Albion

idea : modern world! reader gets transported to Albion and meets Arthur and Merlin. unbeknownst to you and the prince of Camelot, the three of you are soulmates.

type : imagines

word count : 0.7k

pairing/s involved : Arthur x Reader, Merlin x Reader

warning/s : almost drowning, panicking

here is my masterlist!

Note : MY FIRST REQUEST! Whoever you are, thank you for reading my works and I might've changed a little bit in your request. Also, I apologize that it took so long, school has been keeping me busy. I hope you like it! 😊

You've always been a fan of BBC Merlin so when you had the chance to take a trip to Europe, you did.

You went to all the locations where they filmed the series like Château de Pierrefonds and Chislehurst Caves. The last destination is where the Lake of Avalon is; Forest of Dean.

Luckily you are alone, giving you the chance to fully enjoy the beautiful sceneries and serene atmosphere.

It made you feel a deeper sense of nostalgia and melancholy— how the precious characters you loved dearly died and were 'buried' there.

With one last selfie, you were about to walk back to you car when you hear it. A faint voice, filled with sorrow and longing.

"(Y/N)... Save us."

It's coming from the lake.

Something glimmers on it's shore, a sapphire drop necklace with golden chain. When you attempt to pick it up, the world begins to spin.

Suddenly, you were underwater.

Panic builds in your chest not because you can't swim, but an unseen force seems to harshly pull you down no matter how hard you try to stay afloat.

"Help me! Please, someone—"

Air runs out from your lungs when a pair of bulky arms grabs your body and begins to swim you to safety.

"Don't worry, I got you."

I heard that voice before.

The stranger easily carries you to ground, draping a large cloak on your shivering body. Rubbing your eyes for better sight, you look up...

Bradley James?

"Are you alright?"

No. You're certain that Bradley doesn't look that young anymore, keeping up with his latest activities online.

"I told you to be careful, Arthur!"

Turning your head, you see Colin Morgan run towards the two of you with a worried expression on his face.

He looks younger too.

"Ah, Merlin. Fetch the horses, she might need medical attention. May I ask for you name, my lady?"

Arthur? Merlin? Wait... Oh my God.

Realization hits you hard when both men stare at you expectantly, waiting for your answer.

The way they speak, their clothes, their appearances... it's exactly the same in the show you binge-watch every Christmas season.

Am I in the show? That's not possible...right?

"W-Where are we?"

"Camelot."

Shit.

You expect someone to go 'You just got punked!'; that would've been better than two men (who you have a huge crush on) staring at you, confused.

You waited for a moment but nothing happens.

This is real. I'm actually in Albion.

Fear and anxiety creeps into your system, as many questions form in your head. Did I die? What's going on? What season is this? How can I ever get back?

Due to the overwhelming emotions, your breath shortens and keeled over.

Bradley, or Arthur (You have no idea anymore), quickly catches you and gently carries you to his horse.

"We must make haste!" was the last thing you heard before you blacked out.

Merlin, on the hand, knew this would happen. In fact, he dreams of you.

He sees you in vague images, like old memories— happily kissing his cheek, witnessing him use magic, encouraging him to do another trick, etc.

He already etched in his mind your pretty face, your melodious voice, your playful grin— everything about you.

Then Arthur shares the same experience, dreaming about a woman who's description mirrors yours.

Kilgharrah told him that the woman of their dreams will arrive soon from faraway land and will play significant role in the prophecy.

However, the dragon didn't specify how. He only said—

"(Y/N) is your soulmate, Emrys. She sees you and Arthur in a light no one else ever will."

Soulmates are uncommon, even for druids. Only a few were blessed, to have something so wholesome and pure.

So when he heard your cry for help, he is ecstatic. You have finally arrived. His soulmate... and Arthur's.

He wryly smiles at this. Funny how he shares, not only his destiny with the prat, but also you.

The trip to the castle was faster than they anticipated. Arthur told him to call Gaius and meet them in his bedroom.

It caught the attention of everyone. The prince carrying an unconscious woman in his private chambers will surely stir gossip.

But Arthur didn't care, and Merlin didn't know if he should be proud or worried.

The court physician said you are healthy, they only have to wait for you to wake up. He left to attend other matters; leaving the three of you alone.

"This is her." The prince laughs in disbelief, incognizant of what Merlin knows. "The girl in my dreams, I can't believe it!"

Merlin tries to hide his smirk, Arthur can be so adorable when he's clueless.

"Nor can I, sire."

[roosterforme]

Smarter Than the Average Beer Boy | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: After months of attending your lectures, Bradley has honed his math skills beyond his wildest expectations. A night out with the boys reveals just how smart and endearing your husband really is, even when he has a hangover.

Warnings: Swears, fluff, drinking, oral sex, shirtless Beer Boy, 18+

Length: 3100 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

Happy birthday to @cherrycola27!

This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time but it can be read on its own! Banner by @thedroneranger Check out my masterlist

You were on your way to teach your last class of the day, and it was your least favorite one. When the class schedules were being organized for next semester, you planned on begging Dr. Rosenthal to let you trade this awful linear algebra class away for one of his calculus lectures. Because at least calculus was something to which you could add a little spice to keep your students interested, unlike this one.

Even though you already ate the snack your husband packed in your tie dye lunchbox, you were still hungry. You'd have to remind him to pack you something extra next Thursday. But as you were on your way to the lounge to quickly get something from the vending machine, you heard his voice. 

"Sugar."

You spun around in your loafers and tweed skirt and saw your husband in full khaki uniform heading your way. "Beer Boy. What are you doing here?" you asked, giving up on the idea of a snack and heading in his direction instead. "I'm about to give a lecture."

"I know," he said with a smirk, voice all deep and raspy. "I got dismissed early, and I stopped at home to get you a snack. Thought maybe I could join your lecture tonight since I won't get to spend tomorrow evening with you."

You almost dropped your notebook as you wrapped your arms around his waist and propped your chin on his chest. "Are you my snack?" you asked as he leaned down to kiss you.

"Nor exactly," he laughed, holding up two small containers. "I brought you some homemade hummus and pita chips. But if you want to skip your lecture and head up to your office, I'd be more than happy to fuck you while I feed you."

"Tempting," you told him with a moan. He was always so sure of himself when he was with you, and it was a massive turn on. But when he grinned and started pulling you toward the elevators, you had to dig your loafers in. "I can't let my students down," you said with a little pout. "Come on. You can sit in the back and take notes."

"Nah. I'll just watch my hot wife in action. Take some mental notes that I can think about at the bachelor party tomorrow night."

You rolled your eyes as you took the containers from him. "You'll have so much fun with Jake and the boys, you won't even be thinking about me at all."

"Newsflash, Dr. Sugar," he whispered as you entered the lecture hall with his hand on your butt. "I'm always thinking about you."

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

Yes, it was fun watching you work. Your lectures were informative, and you were very passionate about the subject. You were also gorgeous, and Bradley wouldn't mind watching you do this all day long. And sure, he loved that you wrote a few problems on the board for your students to work through so you could eat the hummus and pita chips he brought. And yeah, he squirmed a bit in his seat when you winked at him from the podium as you licked your fingertip. 

But the really interesting thing was the fact that Bradley was getting pretty fucking good at math now. If he could go back to undergrad studies, he might even choose it as his major instead of political science. Nobody ever really encouraged him to show off his smarts after his mom died. Well, besides you. There was something about the way you always recognized that he was intelligent that made him fall even harder for you. And since he knew what it felt like to live without you for ten years, he didn't mind watching you teach the same classes over and over. He just wanted to be around you.

When you asked if there were any volunteers to work through the problem, Bradley was able to follow every detail and come up with the correct answer from his seat. And when you finally ended the class, he went up to the front of the room and kissed your cheek right in front of the straggling students. "Any chance you can bring one of the homework sheets home for me to work on later this weekend?" he asked, stealing your last pita chip.

You looked up at him with adoring eyes, and it wasn't fair, because you knew what those little tweed skirts did to him. "You're really going to work on a problem set?" 

"Yeah," he told you with a shrug. "Why not? This class was fun, and maybe you can check my answers and reward me?" he asked hopefully. 

"If you want to be my top student, you better get them all correct." You ran your fingers along the front of his khakis as you picked up your notebook and started walking away.

"I'll be so good, Baby," he promised as he followed you out. He was planning on working on the problems on Sunday after he spent all day Saturday recovering from Jake's bachelor party. Tomorrow night was for the boys, but tonight he would be spending with you. 

When he got you home, he boiled a pot of water for some of the homemade pasta he made and dried last weekend, and he started heating up some of his homemade sauce and meatballs. "This is so fucking sexy," you whispered, rubbing up on him in your tweed while you sipped a beer. "You are really good at feeding me."

He stole the bottle and drank some. "You're really good at everything else." When he tried to hand it back, you just shook your head and dropped slowly to your knees. He was already a little hard from all the tweed rubbing, but then you kissed his zipper, and his dick responded immediately. "Look at that. I didn't even have to do the math problems."

You grinned up at him while he sipped the beer. "Maybe this is just a little reminder for you to be good tomorrow night when you're out with the boys. No drinking and driving. No letting them get into fights. No playing beer pong without me. If you're good, then there's more where this came from."

Bradley was really enjoying the cold beer as you undid his belt and button before you eased his zipper down. "I'll be so good. I'm a hundred percent domesticated."

You moaned as his cock sprang free, and you rubbed your face against him. "I know." He was about to tell you he'd been that way since the two of you were college seniors, but suddenly all coherent thoughts left his brain. You were gently kissing his balls as you ran your fingers up underneath his shirt and teased his abs. "You're a very good boy."

His cock was throbbing and tapping you on the cheek as your tongue flicked out to taste him. "Sugar," he grunted before sipping the beer again. 

"Hmm." You were looking up at him as your lips barely met his skin. "What should I do with you?" Somehow you were making Bradley feel submissive even though you were on your knees for him, and he tipped his head back and groaned.

"Fuck me up, Sugar."

"Gladly," you replied, and he felt your tongue draw a slow and steady line from his tight balls all the way to the head of his cock. Bradley watched as you took the very tip of his bouncing length between your pretty lips. All you did was hold eye contact as you sucked on him like he was a piece of candy, your fingers tickling the trail of hair below his belly button, and he was mesmerized. 

"Those pouty lips will be the death of me," he whispered before sipping the beer again. "So fucking pretty." You sucked on him a little harder, and he clenched. Damn, you hadn't even taken him deep yet, and he was already eager. But he didn't care, because you already knew what you did to him.

Then you popped him free, rubbed your nose against his trimmed pubes before kissing his tip and said, "I love you." Then you grabbed him by the hips and let him slide all the way so he was tapping the back of your throat. 

"Oh, fuck," he grunted, already thinking about you gagging on his cum. You shook your head slightly when he was deep, and tears filled your eyes as you sucked. Bradley gripped the bottle, his voice only a harsh whisper as he said, "That's it. That's it. Fuck."

A few more deep thrusts had you struggling, which was honestly so fucking hot to him. You were making desperate little sounds, but you bobbed on him until you gagged. And that's really all it took.

You moaned as he filled your mouth, and he ran his thumb along your cheek as you gently sucked every drop from him. "Show it to me," he whispered softly and you smiled as you released him. Slowly, you parted your lips and tilted your face up for him, showing off your cupped tongue full of his cum. "Beautiful."

Then you swallowed him down and kissed his drained balls once more before you stood and took the beer bottle from his hand. Casually, you took a sip like you didn't just leave him twitching before you. "Is dinner almost ready?"

He was still thinking about it the next night when he was out with all the guys. Jake was marrying Jessica in a month, and all he asked for was a night of bar hopping. Normally Bradley would have been very good at this, but he was thinking about the way he'd fed you bites of pasta while standing in the kitchen as you moaned over how delicious it was. 

"Come on, Rooster, have a shot," Payback said, passing him some tequila. Just a few drinks would help him focus on the night with the guys. "Bottoms up." 

But at first, the drinks just made him think about calling you to see what you were up to. Jessica was supposed to stop by the house to hang out for a while, and he wondered if she was still there. Maybe she left and you were already changed into his Grateful Dead shirt for bed. Maybe he could just get an Uber right now and go home and find out for himself. He'd slip right into bed next to you. 

"Time for the karaoke bar!" Javy announced, and then Bradley had more shots in front of him before he ended up onstage, and he couldn't be sure where his shirt went, but oh well, it didn't really matter since his favorite shirt was at home with you, and it was suddenly time to sing. 

But he did remember to text you and let you know he'd be home very late.

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

Having the empty house to yourself felt a bit like it did when Bradley was deployed. So in that respect, it made you a little antsy. But on the other hand, it was peaceful when you had Jessica over for some snacks and a glass of wine. It was close to midnight when a bunch of photos came through to your phone and hers. 

"Oh no," she groaned as you scrolled through the images from Mickey. It appeared as though Bradley lost his shirt. Typical. 

"They are a mess," you muttered, finally getting to one where the guys were physically holding Jake up. "You're going to have your work cut out for you tomorrow."

She shook her head but laughed. "I think I'll head home and wait for him. I don't know if he'll even be able to make it from the front door to the bedroom without help."

"Bradley doesn't look much better," you added as you got to the last photo where he was chugging a beer, the amber liquid dribbling down his neck and bare chest. "Oh Lord."

"Call me tomorrow and let me know how bad it is?"

"Yeah," you agreed, walking her to the door and giving her a hug. 

And then you were met with silence again. You changed into Bradley's tie dye shirt and his robe that he'd had since college, but you weren't even slightly tired now. You glanced across the hallway to your office door covered in your own handwriting. 

SUGAR LOVES BEER BOY

Working through an advanced calculus problem before bed would definitely help you unwind. You walked to your white board while you looked up a problem on your phone and then scribbled it down and got to work. Oh, this one was a bit tricky with lots of side math to complete first. The squeak of your marker was soothing, and by the time you got to your tenth line in the proof solution, you were yawning.

"Works like a charm," you muttered, capping the marker and heading back across the hall where you climbed into bed. 

At one point during the night, you thought you heard Bradley stumble in the front door. "Beer Boy?" you called out, rolling over in bed.

You heard him slur, "It's just me, Sugar," followed by the sound of the refrigerator opening up. He'd come to bed eventually after he got a snack. You scooted back all the way to your side, preemptively trying to avoid him being a sticky, sweaty mess. You smiled and curled up, and you were back to sleep in seconds. 

But he never did come to bed, as evidenced by the still crisp bedding on his side when you woke up again at nine. You stretched and climbed out from the pocket of warmth and reached for his robe before you went to search the house. 

You started in the kitchen, thinking that being near the refrigerator might have been more appealing than the bed, but he wasn't there. You glanced out back and on the living room couch, but you didn't see him anywhere. 

"Bradley?" you called out as you looked in the bathroom, but he hadn't even fallen asleep in the tub. You pressed your lips together as you poked your head inside your office and gasped. "Seriously?"

He was sound asleep on the floor, his shirt nowhere to be seen, and he was snoring loudly. An empty ice cream carton and spoon were next to his head, and it looked like he'd eaten a value sized bag of pretzels. There were a few more wrappers and a lot of crumbs on the floor, and you just gaped at him as he started to roll onto his side and look around.

"What the fuck? Why is it such a mess in here? I just cleaned on Wednesday," he groaned, hair sticking up at every angle. He tilted his head and looked up at you through squinted eyes. "What happened?"

You gave him an incredulous look. "Why don't you tell me?"

He continued to look around the room as he sat up. "I don't know," he replied, pushing the pretzel bag to the side as he cradled his forehead in his palm. "Last thing I remember is the guys making me sing Caress Me Down for karaoke. Where's my shirt?"

Your deep sigh should have been warning enough for him, but he looked down at his abs, shocked that he was only wearing half of his outfit. "Once again, Bradley, why don't you tell me?"

"Baby, how am I supposed to know?" he whined. "God, now I have a fucking hangover, and I can't think."

If Jake was also this bad at the moment, then Jessica might need a reassuring phone call later. Hopefully he hadn't destroyed the carpet in their condo. You needed to get Bradley into the shower and then put him in bed so you could clean up the floor, but your eyes caught on your white board, and you gasped. "Bradley."

"What now?" he moaned as he got to his hands and knees in the crumbs. "My head is throbbing."

Your eyes skimmed from the top of the board to the very bottom, and you started laughing. He was looking up at you, confusion swirling along his handsome features as you had to brace your hands on your knees while you gasped for air and cackled. "Beer Boy!"

"Okay, yes," he grunted. "I'm beginning to think I was actually the one who made the mess in here, but I'll clean it up. It's not that funny."

"Bradley!" you screeched, pointing to the board. "You solved my advanced calculus problem!"

Slowly and seemingly painfully, he turned his head to look and crawled closer to the wall. "I don't think so," he muttered. "I don't even know what all of that means." He was standing on his knees, and trying so hard to figure it out. "Holy shit, that's my handwriting."

"It definitely is," you said through your laughter as you gently combed your fingers through his messy hair. He practically melted against your leg with his big hand on your thigh below his robe. "I am... somehow really impressed by this? You got drunk, got a ride home at four in the morning, and then you solved an advanced math problem before you passed out on my office floor."

"Yeah, I'm impressive as hell," he whispered, kissing you through the robe fabric. 

"You know... if you weren't so terribly hungover, I'd offer to blow you again like yesterday. Because this is something only my very best student would be able to do. And I love rewarding my best student." 

You stroked his cheek softly with your knuckles as he stared up at you with parted lips. "Professor Sugar," he rasped. "I'm totally fine. Barely hungover at all."

"Are you sure?" you laughed. "You look a little rough. And you made a huge mess."

"Yeah," he replied immediately. "I'm great. Wanna join me in the shower?"

You bent to kiss his forehead and whispered, "If you think you can handle it."

"Hell yes," he groaned, trying three times before he was able to get to his feet. Then he took you by the hand, and you helped him down the hallway to the bathroom. 

You pointed out the small closet on the way. "And when we're done, the vacuum cleaner is just hanging out right in there, waiting for you to clean up my office."

"Yeah, okay."

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

Happy birthday, Nik! When you mentioned this idea, it had me cracking up. I hope you enjoy it as a birthday gift one day early! Thanks @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls and @thedroneranger

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[ohtobeleah]

Day Twenty Two [Do Not Look Away]

Summary: After the events of Bruises, Bradley comes face to face with his new reality. You’re experiencing a physical manifestation of PTSD and Jake’s still in a coma.

Warnings: Jake Seresin x F!reader. Mentions of death. Mentions of Sexual assault/rape. Mentions of torture/violence. Bad medical portrayals. PTSD induced psychosis

Word Count: 2.7k

Whumptober Prompt Day Twenty-Two: Forced (to kneel/watch/hurt somebody else), whipped, “Do not look away.”

Author Note: Please make sure you read the warnings provided. Disclaimer: I do not condone nor endorse the actions that are written about during the month of October. These works of fiction are just that, fiction and should be treated as such. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for this year's prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Bruises Masterlist

In a recent experiment, scientists observed that single human cells in a petri dish will seek each other out…and adhere to each other to form new connections. When cells team up, they become stronger. They thrive and evolve and eventually become something that their single selves ever could have been alone. 

“I don’t want to pry,” Bradley’s voice broke through the deafening silence that lingered between the two of you as you sat at Jake’s beside. The only other sounds that filtered through were the humming of life-saving machines and the incessant beeping of medical equipment. “I can’t even begin to relate to what you’ve both been through,” Bradley continued as you looked over to where he was standing. Right at the foot of Jake’s hospital bed.

You spent more time at Jake’s side than you did in your own hospital room. It often got you in trouble. There was even one particular time when you were still in a wheelchair, where you’d decided to take yourself down the hall to see him. It didn’t go over very well with the orderlies. Your team of doctors and nurses alike were furious with you. But they understood the burning desire to be with the one you loved. They understood and could recognise the early stages of post-traumatic stress disorder. They could see the signs of codependency. 

They could see that you were more at ease by Jake Seresin’s side than you were by yourself. Once your primary doctor had signed off on it, you were essentially treated at Jake’s bedside permanently. Screw hospital policies and politics. 

Rooster’s hands gripped the railing at the end of the bed with such a force you thought his grip alone might crumple the metal. But it never wavered. The metal held strong under the pressure Bradley was putting it under. Much like Jake who never gave up on you. 

“But–” Bradley paused one final time before the question left his mouth forever. Once he asked he couldn’t take back such a charged question. “Was there ever a moment where you wished–” He didn’t have to finish his sentence for you to know what he was asking. 

“Every day,” You interrupted as you sat perched in the world’s most unsupportive, uncomfortable hospital chair known to man. “I prayed for death more than I prayed to be rescued, Rooster.” You knew Bradley was prepared to hear you say that, he wouldn’t have bothered to ask if he didn’t already believe to some extent that you would have prayed for the sweet release of death. “But Jake kept me going even when I wanted to die.”

“I–” Even though Bradley knew that answer was coming, it didn’t make it any easier to hear. “I’m so sorry, Y/n,” Bradley sighed as he shook his head in disbelief. “It should have been me.” 

“I wouldn’t wish any of this on my worst enemy, Bradshaw,” You replied as you shivered in the cool of Jake’s bleak hospital room. Rooster saw and quickly made his way over to where spare blankets and pillows were thrown haphazardly. They sat crumpled in a pile on a forgotten chair never used by the neverending list of visitors that cycled through. 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” You tried to tell Bradley as he collected a spare blanket. “Rooster–” 

“You know, I remember not long before the mission rolled around,” Rooster explained as he placed the blanket over you. Covering your legs enough to maintain some warmth. “Jake got obliterated one night at the Hard Deck, so much so that Penny actually got a few of us to just drag him out to the front deck by his ankles.” 

You couldn’t help but to chuckle. You were mourning the loss of the version of Jake Seresin you hardly got to know before the mission. But you would have liked to bear witness to some more of his antics. However, you had tried your best to stay clear when you didn’t need to be in his direct vicinity. 

“Sounds like something he’d do.” You smiled softly all the while you looked over your shoulder to where Jake lay still heavily sedated and comatosed. “I miss him so much.” 

“I drove him home that night,” Bradley continued on as he made sure you were warmer than you had been moments before. “He was rambling about some woman, you know, in between when he had his head out the window of the Bronco pealing the paint off with his bile.” 

Again you couldn’t help but to laugh, this time with more intention. Bradley could see it in your eyes though, you wished Jake was awake to laugh at his own stupidity with you. 

“He told me about this woman, how he couldn’t stand her,” Rooster explained as a frown plastered itself across your face. “He couldn’t stand anything about her really, from her smile to the way she laughed without fear of ridicule to the way she just knew how to call him on bullshit before anyone else could,” 

“Why are you telling me this?” You asked with a tone laced with something you didn’t recognise. Rooster knew exactly what it was though. It was jealousy. It was the all-consuming green goblin called jealousy. Who was this other woman Jake was talking about in his drunken rambling and why was she on his mind? 

“He even hated the way she ate her food, with purpose and intention.” Bradley laughed to himself as he looked down at where Jake was lying unresponsive in his hospital bed. “Mother fucker had hate confused with love though.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“He loves everything about you Hollywood,” Bradley sighed as he tried to keep the tears in his eyes from welling too much. It wasn’t his time to cry. No. For you, he had to be strong. “I can remember giving him so much shit for it, he was droning on about how he hated the way you always beat him at his own game.” You could feel the heat in your cheeks rising as Rooster crouched down before you. His hands were gentle atop your blanket-covered knees. “Han–Jake, loved you before he even knew he loved you.” 

“What if he doesn’t wake up, Roo?” tears rolled down your face through a pained smile. It was nice to know Jake truly did love you before he saw hell’s most horrible torture performed against you. But it made the fact he wasn’t awake so much harder to handle. “What if he–”

“He will,” Bradley replied as he reached up to wipe the stray tears streaming down your cheeks. “He wouldn’t leave you behind, not after everything you’ve been through, alright?” Rooster wanted confirmation from you. He wanted you to nod. He wanted to see that you were listening to what he was actually saying. “He loves you too much to leave you now, he wouldn’t do that to you, not after fighting every day to keep you two alive.” 

“I wanna be able to tell him that I love him too,” You sobbed in your chair all the while Bradley did his best to comfort you. He looked up at your own monitor. The one that told all the doctors and nurses what your heart was doing. What your stats were. You were still hooked up to IV fluids. “I just wanna hear his voice again.” 

Bradley let the silence linger for a moment as he stood. He couldn’t deny how tired you looked. How weak your movement pattern was. He saw the exhaustion written in between the lines on your face. You needed to rest. You needed to sleep. But getting you to agree to head back to bed even just for an hour would be a battle Rooster wasn’t sure he’d win. 

But you were the woman Jake Seresin loved. A title Bradley would never have but would envy from a viewpoint just shy of the front row. He would forever force himself to watch the man he loved love another human with all the fire and grace he had to offer. Bradley swore that he’d never look away from the gift he’d been given. The gift of witnessing his best friend fall in love. Get married. Have children perhaps. He wanted to be right there in the thick of it. 

So he needed to be your person, even just for a little while. For Jake. For Hangman. For the sandy blonde with the emerald eyes across the bar. For the aviator who knew how to get on his last nerve. For the man who’d risked his life to save his. For the best friend, he never realised he’d lost and subsequently found again. 

“I want you to know I suggest this with so much respect,” Bradley sighed. He tensed a little as if he was bracing for impact. “But I reckon Jake would want me to tell you to get some rest.” 

You listened to what Bradley was saying. His words were something comforting amidst all the pain and suffering you’d endured. He was, if anything, a good friend. You knew that Jake would never truly regret his decision to put his life on the line to save his wingman. But it would be a decision that haunted him every night. Every morning. Every second that passed him by where he had to live in a world where he’d seen you experience the worst of what humanity had to offer. 

And you understood why he was telling you to get some rest. But you couldn’t sleep when your mind would get stuck on a loop. Replaying all the hurt. The pain. The suffering. All in HD while your body tried to recover. 

The mind is dark, wonderful and weird. But the last thing you wanted was your subconscious at the helm. 

“No.” It was a complete sentence. No follow up required. But Rooster thought otherwise. 

“Uh, I really think you should just get maybe like, a solid half an hour at the minimum?” Bradley replied as he stood with his hands resting slightly cunty on his hips. “Jake would–” Before Rooster got the chance to finish, you deadpanned him. His blood ran cold when you glared his way. A look he never wanted to be on the receiving end of ever again. 

“They made Jake watch a lot of things happen to me,” Bradley had no idea where you were going with this. But he chose to listen regardless. “They made him watch them rape me, over and over again.” You paused just to listen to Jake’s heart rate monitor. The rhythmic beeping soothed your troubled heart in a way you felt ungrateful to experience. Sure Jake was in the hospital after being held as a prisoner of war…but at least he was alive. 

“They forced him to watch every time, and said it was always his fault.” Bradley’s heart sank at the thought of having to go through that, let alone watch it unfold. The levels of physical and psychological torture you were describing were almost unbearable to listen to. But for you, he would. “But he never gave them what they wanted. Jake never gave up on me even when he could have.” 

“Y/n–” Again Bradley tried to speak. But you kept talking over him. Just trying to get your point across. 

“They forced him to hurt me, they used him against me in ways I wish I could describe to you right now,” You began to shake your head as your tears ricocheted down your heated cheeks. “‘Don’t look away. Don’t look away Seresin’–on goddamn repeat, while I was cut and used and beaten until I could barely breathe and without fail after everything was said and done he was still there.” Bradley could very much see you unraveling right before him. He didn’t recognise the look in your eye. He chose to take a few cautious steps back towards the door, giving you some space and himself some distance. 

“He was there for me to crawl home to even when I couldn’t see,” Your voice softened as you looked over at Jake. Bradley saw it, the moment your eyes caught the rise and fall of Jakes chest. God, it broke his heart. All of this did. 

“So no–” You hissed. “I will not be leaving his side and I will not sleep until I get to tell him that I love him and not until I get to see him wake up,” You explained for the last time. You were sick and tired of people telling you to rest. To sleep. To take care of yourself. They didn’t know what you had been through. They didn’t understand what you were going through. They didn’t understand what it was like to witness torture, to experience hell day in and day out. “Do you understand?”   

Bradley didn’t respond right away. He simply looked at you with a look you didn’t want to be on the receiving end of. One of sympathy. One of pity. So you snapped. “I said DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?” Your voice echoed down the hall as Rooster backed away even more. He placed his hands where you could see him as if he wanted you to know he wasn’t there to hurt you. 

“Hollywood, take it easy.” Rooster cooed. “It’s me, Rooster.” 

“Get me out of here!” You screamed all the while clawing at the wires and tubes attached to various parts of you. Your arms, chest, stomach. “Let me go!” 

“NURSE!” Bradley called down the hall towards the nurse’s station. He turned his back for five seconds only to turn around to witness you trying to pull the vent from Jake’s throat. The one helping him to breathe. The life-saving piece of equipment you were now messing with. “Fuck! Y/n!” 

“I’ve got you,” You cried as you tried to save Jake. Not understanding you were in the middle of a panic attack mixed with exhaustion. “I’ll save you, I’m here.” 

“Hollywood!” Rooster wrapped his arms around your torso from behind. “Stop it, you’re in the hospital!” 

“Let go of me!” You cried out as a handful of nurses approached Jake’s room. They saw the look of utter shock plastered across Bradley’s face. “LET ME GO!” You shouted again as you violently kicked and thrashed against Rooster as your feet left the ground. 

“I don’t know what I said to set her off like this?” Explaining himself to the nurses, Bradley held you tight as you fought against him. 

“JAKE!!!” You cried out in unimaginable terror. 

“She’s having an attack again,” One of the nurses explained as she jabbed you with a sedative. “Anything will trigger her right now.” 

Bradley listened to your screams get weaker as your body grew heavier in his embrace. He knew you were gone the second your head lulled to the side. 

“She’s in a bad way, they both are.” Rooster groaned in frustration. Not at you or Jake, but at the situation as a whole. “Someone needs to be held responsible for all of this.” 

“I’m just the night nurse, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” One of the nurses replied much to Roosters’ shock. He was venting more so than looking for a response. “But if I were gonna start somewhere, I’d start with having a conversation with her father.” 

Rooster took that note onboard as he carried you back down the hall towards where your empty hospital bed was. A room just as bleak as Jake’s. 

“I got you alright?” Bradley sighed as he laid you down, taking notice of how at peace you looked. So content. So…Sedated. “I’ve got you and I’ve got Jake.” As the nurses followed him in to fix up your machines and copious wires, Rooster took a moment to sit in his torture. Reminding himself of the promise he’d made. “Always.” 

We are an extension of our cells. Just like them, we are programmed to find others…to reach out to one another and find nourishment and love. Much like our cells, we’re not meant to be alone. So once we find each other…

We try our best to hold onto what we’ve got. Even after horrific petri dish experiments.

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

[jetblack4realz]

beautiful - bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader

summary - growing up as bradley's best friend and ride or die, then going to college and suddenly realizing it's more than that

warnings - don't think so

word count - 1.8k, just a cute little guy

______________________________________________________________

you couldn't remember a time that you weren't with bradley bradshaw. you had grown up by his side, from kindergarten to now sophomore year of college, you had been his wingman. and he was yours.

you had the same friend group, all of whom dated each other, which left you and bradley to do your own thing which was fine. everyone expected y'all to get together eventually, but when freshman year came to a close they all lost that hope.

until now.

it was well known by your friends that harrison ralph was the biggest douchebag UVA had ever seen. bradley knew that, carlie knew that, georgie knew that, and so did beckham and lara. but you, well, let's just call you optimistic.

harrison had approached you at a frat party a few weeks into the senior year, catching your attention quickly with some pretty words and an even prettier smile. with his arm leaned against the wall behind you, he was getting close, and bradley was getting pissed.

"y/n!" he called with an exaggerated smile, reaching forward and grabbing your hand. harrison leaned away, eying bradley as if trying to size him up. georgie laughed at the scene, knowing that 5'10", 160lbs harrison stood no chance against 6'3", 200lbs bradley bradshaw, even though his attitude sure made up for some of it.

"bradshaw," harrison hummed. "what do we owe the pleasure?"

bradley didn't look at the boy, instead directing his attention to you. "lara and carlie want to go get food."

it wasn't an invitation, nor was it a question of whether or not the two of you would be attending. you were going to leave with him or he wasn't leaving you.

"are they drunk?" you asked. when bradley nodded his head, you sighed. "where's the nearest arby's?"

"you're not seriously leaving, are you?" harrison asked, grabbing your arm as you stepped towards bradley.

"sorry, i've gotta take care of some friends. i'll see you around," you said with a polite smile, letting bradley pull you away. harrison reached forward, grabbing your other hand with a firm grasp.

"text me, ok? i'll wait up for you," he said, winking quickly.

"well, don't," was bradley's sharp response. he dragged you back to the group who had already left to get in their cars. a text buzzed on your phone in your back pocket as you pulled the door open to bradley's bronco, and as you fished it out to read the text, your brows knitted closely together.

"lara said she's going back to beckham's," you said loud enough for bradley to hear on the other side of the truck. "and georgie's dropping carlie off at the dorm."

so you hadn't seen the boys dragging their girlfriends off with smirks and winks thrown in bradley's direction? probably a good thing.

"let's just go home then," bradley shrugged as he climbed into the driver's seat.

"well, maybe i can go back-"

"let's go home," he said again, slowly with his eyebrows knitted. "you don't need to see that harrison douchebag."

"well, i don't wanna go back to the dorm to carlie and georgie banging again," you sighed, hopping into your usual passenger seat and shutting the door next to you. "i think a third round of bleach will officially ruin my eyesight."

"just come back to my place," he shrugged, turning the truck on and beginning to pull out of the small space he'd managed to parallel park into earlier that evening.

you didn't answer immediately, instead staring down at your shut off phone.

"do you think harrison meant what he did?"

"what?" he asked quickly, glancing over at you as he continued to drive down the backroads of charlottesville to his apartment.

"i mean... guys like him don't look at girls like me like he did. and they certainly don't tell them they're waiting up for their text."

"sweetheart, i think he's waiting up for something else," bradley told you with a sigh. "and he meant it. he damn sure meant it."

"are you sure?"

"he seemed pretty interested. dunno why he wouldn't be."

"i don't know why he would be."

"what are you on about?" he asked, glancing at you again as he pulled into his apartment parking lot. it was dark, only lit by two streetlamps on complete opposite sides of each other, and you could barely see the walkway into the complex. not that it mattered - you both knew the place like the back of your hand. he parked as you sighed, leaning back in your seat.

"guys aren't interested in me. ever. it's just unbelievable."

"except it's entirely believable. do you know how many guys i've seen check you out over the years? for starters, before they met carlie and lara, georgie and beckham were obsessed with you."

"no they weren't," you laughed, shaking your head.

"they were, i swear!" he said, a smile pulling at his lips as he watched you smile too. "they were sixteen year old boys with functioning eyes, of course they were obsessed with a beautiful girl like you."

"i may be pretty cute now, but i definitely wasn't a looker then," you laughed, recalling the awkward stage of high school.

"oh trust me, you were and still are insanely beautiful, sweetheart. nearly every guy on the football team asked me to give them your number and they always wanted to know if you'd been asked to homecoming or prom or whatever yet."

"they asked you for my number and you didn't give it to them?" you asked with a dramatic gasp and wide eyes.

"oh hell no! you were mine and mine alone, i definitely wasn't willing to share you with the meatheads that were the bedford high football team."

"i was yours?" you asked curiously, turning completely to face him with a smirk pulling at one side of your mouth.

"my best friend, i mean," he corrected quickly, grinning your way.

"mhmm, we'll go with that for now," you hummed, laughing as he looked at you incredulously.

"what is that supposed to mean?"

"but moving on - why didn't you tell me all of this before? because i've been convinced that i like always have something in my teeth or something the way some of these guys look at me, because it's not flattering and doesn't seem anywhere near that they'd wanna kiss me."

"darlin', they're staring lower than your teeth and they're hoping for more than just a kiss, let me tell you that," bradley informed you with a frown. "guys are prudes and jackasses and that's why i never told you. ain't any of 'em that i thought were good enough for you."

"is that why you dragged me out of that party?" you asked. he furrowed his brows, but you just smiled and laughed. "i know the girls didn't wanna get food, you just needed an excuse to pull me away from harrison ralph."

"that's cause he's also a douche," he nodded. "ain't no way in hell you're spending a night with him."

"but he's a cute douche," you sighed, laying over on the middle seat between you and bradley dramatically. "i haven't been on a date in months, brad. it's like suddenly every single guy in virginia has gone off girls."

"it's because they're intimidated," he answered softly, messing with the splayed out ends of your hair as you looked up at him. "you're beautiful, crazy smart, naturally talented at everything you do, super ambitious and driven - they know you're out of their league."

"i wish they'd just try. i feel like they've all given up on me or something." you sounded defeated, because you were. bradley hated to hear it, leaning back in his seat as you grabbed his hand, messing with his callouses as he worked up the courage to say what was on his mind.

apparently, he took too long and you were sitting up and sliding out of the car. he followed quickly, locking the bronco and coming to your side as you pulled a hand through your hair, the other arm crossed over your chest and the other quick to join it.

"what's going on?" he asked. "what is this really about?"

you continued walking, your eyes on bradley's door just down the outdoor hall as you sighed. "i got into flight school today."

"what? that's awesome, congratulations," he told you with a smile.

"yeah, well, i'm not even gonna go, so it's all pointless," you said, lips a straight line and a small crease between your brows slowly forming.

"why? what's wrong, why can't you go?" he asked.

"my mom was pissed enough as is that i came here and if she learns that i'm graduating just to not come home and instead go to flight school - she's gonna flip, she's not gonna let me go."

"what do you mean? you're an adult, y/n, she doesn't get to tell you what to do anymore."

"no, but she can guilt me into going into business with her. she's got the bakery and she needs me to run the business side of it. it's why i got my marketing degree-"

"you got your marketing degree because you needed something to do while figuring out what you really want. and you want to fly. we've talked about being in the navy for years together, frankly i was surprised you said you were going to college even before my papers got pulled."

"well, mom needed help and-"

"and she can hire some. you get to choose what to do with your life, y/n," he told you. "you're like, this crazy brilliant girl who's been surrounded with people who tell you that you can't do anything your whole life and they just need to get out of your head; your mom, teachers, idiot guys, all of 'em."

"that's hard," you laughed dryly.

"well, let me tell you this then," he said as you came to a stop in front of his door. "you are amazing, y/n. in every way possible and there's not enough words to describe it. and-" he hyped himself up, taking a quick breath "-i haven't given up on you. you're everything to me."

you were smiling, like big, and that was all the clearance bradley needed to lean in and press his lips to yours. even though you were a little surprised, you kiss him back, slowly wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close to you. he pulled away after several moments, breathing deeply and looking down at you with a smile.

"you're everything to me too," you mumbled, returning his smile. he kissed you again, shorter this time, and softer too.

"i'm really, really glad to hear that," he said.

you felt your phone buzz in your pocket and you reluctantly unwinded yourself from the boy in front of you, pulling your phone out to read the text.

hey beautiful, can i come over??

"i'd rather i be the only one to call you beautiful, beautiful," bradley said after reading it upside down. you clicked on the contact, scrolling down and clicking the red 'block contact' text. it disappeared from the screen and you grinned up at him.

"i think i'd be okay with that."

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Oh No, There’s Only One Bed

Bradley Bradshaw x reader 2k words summary: The hotel is all booked out and now you have to share a room with Bradley Bradshaw. Worse, you have to share a bed. 

there’s not much plot in this. so like dont get your hopes up. im not happy with how it turned out

prequel to “Oh No, There's An Arm Around My Waist”, can be read seperately tho

top gun masterlist

“You have got to be kidding me.” 

You couldn’t help yourself, already regretting the words once they’d left your mouth. The poor receptionist played no part in this - it wasn’t his fault. You weren’t usually this rude to hotel staff. 

“I’m sorry ma’am, but we’re all booked out for tonight. It’s a twin room or no room at all.”

“C’mon, we can make it work.” 

You looked up at Bradley like he was out of his mind. And he even had the audacity to grin at you. “It’s just one night.” 

“You can’t be serious.” 

You couldn’t believe that he was actually supporting this dumb fucking idea. “We can’t share a room. We can’t share a bed, Bradshaw.” 

He raised his eyebrows and you bit your lip, mentally roundhouse-kicking yourself in the face. Why did you have to be so obviously avoidant? Your fight-or-flight was kicking in at the mere proposal. It was too obvious. Were normal people as desperately opposed to the idea of sharing a bed with a friend? Probably not. So why the fuck were you? 

Because maybe Bradley was not just a friend. 

Because maybe you were totally in love with him. And because maybe you’d rather die than ever admit that and get rejected. 

“I mean-” You scrambled for words, for a quick excuse that would make sense, that would save you from at least some of the embarrassment. “You know, like, we’re friends. Friends don’t share a bed.” 

Welp, that did not work. Horrible miss. Dart stuck in the wall-kind of miss. 

“I’ll build a pillow wall if that makes you feel better”, Bradley promised, failing to hide his amusement. You clenched your jaw. 

You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. 

“There’s other hotels”, you tried, desperate to find a different solution. 

“Yeah”, he nodded, almost too enthusiastically. “Sure. Because those aren’t booked out.” 

Alright. So maybe he had a point. 

The only options here were sleeping on the floor of a subway station in San Diego or sharing a bed with him. And the fact that you actually took two seconds debating whether getting chlamydia would be worth not having to sleep pressed up against Bradley’s (warm and very comfortable) chest in a clean bed told you enough about just how far you’d fallen for him already. You were in too deep. And after tonight, you’d be a goner. 

But you really, really did not want to spend the night on the subway. 

“Fuck this”, you muttered, turning back to the poor receptionist who looked like he’d rather be on the subway getting chlamydia himself than here and forcefully smiled at him. “We’ll take the room, thank you.”

...

The door swung open and you blindly reached for the light switch, flipping it on before trudging into the room with your suitcase in one hand and the keys in the other. 

You parked the suitcase in some random corner, threw your jacket onto the tiny table and looked up only to see that Bradley had already claimed the left side of the bed, arms and legs spread out, eyes closed. There was a lump in your throat as you watched him breathe that should not have been there. Neither should the flutter in your tummy. Neither should the heat in your cheeks when he opened his eyes and caught you staring. 

“This is like some fucked up scene straight out of a shitty rom-com”, you complained - the only thing you knew how to do so you wouldn’t drool. He looked way too attractive doing literally nothing. You were not okay with that. Especially now that you had to share the bed with him. 

He tucked his hands behind his head (his biceps flexed ridiculously) and chuckled. 

“You love rom-coms”, he reminded you. 

“Yeah, but only good ones with actual plot and characters that have personality.” 

(This was, in itself, an absolute and total lie and Bradley definitely knew that. He was right - you loved rom-coms. You loved all of them. Especially the shitty ones with no plot whatsoever except “Oh we’re two idiots in love”. But you’d thought it would be much more fun if life played out like that - you hadn’t thought it would be like this.) 

“You’re a bad liar”, he laughed, propping himself up on his elbows to get a better look at you. 

“Am not”, you protested. He hummed. 

“You definitely are.” 

Then he patted the other side of the bed again. “Stop pouting and get in.” 

You rolled your eyes and turned away from him, bending down to put your suitcase on the ground and undo the zipper. 

“Gotta change first, Bradshaw. You can build that pillow wall while I’m in the bathroom.” 

His chuckle followed you even as you closed the door behind you half a minute later and it took you longer than it should have to change into pajamas - shout out to your shaking hands - partly because you spent five minutes brushing your teeth, looking at yourself in the mirror and trying to calm your nerves by telling your reflection all kinds of reassurances. (”It’s just one night” and “If you stay on your side you won’t even know he’s there” and “You’ll both be asleep anyway”)

You almost had a heart attack when you left the bathroom again. 

Because yes, Bradley was still in bed, and that in itself was stressful enough. But mainly because he’d kicked the covers to his feet and his pajamas, if one could call it that, consisted only of his briefs. 

At least he had the decency to look apologetic. 

“Sorry”, he said, gesturing at himself. “I don’t have sleepwear with me. I usually sleep naked.” 

Because of course he did. Of course Bradley fucking Bradshaw slept naked. 

“Uh”, you managed, mind completely blank. You were very, very much aware of the fact that you should say something. You just did not have the mental capacity to come up with anything whatsoever. 

There was a goddamn Adonis in your bed. 

If you’d thought you weren’t wearing much before (because you really weren’t, you’d expected San Diego to be warm and had only packed a skimpy little nightgown) then Bradley was wearing literally nothing. 

And, well, he kind of was wearing nothing. 

Couldn’t he at least have kept the covers up? But no. You knew him. He was basically a live heating pad. He’d die if he pulled them up.

“Okay”, you eventually managed to croax out, forcing your feet to work, to carry you to the right side - your side - of the bed, to flick on the lamp on your bedside table and turn off the big one, all without thinking. “Yeah, no worries.” 

“Good.” He nodded his head for what had to be the better part of ten full seconds. “Good.” 

The silence felt awkward. You were just sitting on the edge of the bed and he was propped up on his elbows on his side, staring holes into the air, not saying anything. Eventually he cleared his throat. 

“Wanna, like, sleep?” 

“Oh, yeah.” You busied yourself with the covers so you wouldn’t have to look at him, carefully sliding underneath them. “Yeah, we probably should.” 

Only the rustling of the sheets filled the room until you were finally lying flat on the mattress, head resting on the pillow, and then there was silence again and you wanted to scream. This was more uncomfortable than anything else had ever been with him. Usually it was easy and light and that was why you liked him so much, that was why the two of you had initially become friends at all, but this... this was so heavy. Like something looming over the two of you that neither was addressing, just staring at it, aware that it was there but not doing anything about it. 

This time, you cleared your throat, reached for the bedside lamp and turned that off too. The room was dark without it. You could only make out his contours next to you, hear the sound of his breath. 

“Good night then”, you whispered, listening as his sheets rustled as well as he lay back, turning onto his side so that he was facing you. For a moment you felt the urge to do the same, but before you could even think about moving you were already swatting the idea away with an imaginary broom and locking it out of your imaginary house. Like hell you were gonna face him. Nuh-uh. You’d rather take the subway and the chlamydia after all. 

“Good night”, he said softly, adjusting his hands one final time before the quiet of the night enveloped the two of you. 

You tried to even your breathing, to focus on anything but him so close to you. You needed to sleep and you needed to sleep quick. But your mind was racing, your heart was beating so fast and so loud that you could hear it, your skin was burning up and you felt like you were about to lose it. 

You managed about five minutes before you turned away from him, onto your side, in hopes that that would make it better. 

It didn’t. 

Five minutes after that, you tried lying on your stomach. Which, to nobody’s surprise, worked no better. It took almost fifteen minutes for you to find the courage to turn onto your right side, to turn so that you were facing him after all. He hadn’t moved an inch. 

In fact, he hadn’t tried to sleep at all. 

When you turned and caught sight of him (bare chest and messy hair and fuck) you almost screamed. His eyes were wide open, watching you, reflecting the little moonlight that was flooding through the windows. 

“Jesus”, you whispered, pressing a hand to your chest as he grinned, his face mere inches from yours. “Bradley, you scared the hell out of me.”

He didn’t even react to that. 

“Can’t sleep?”, he asked instead. He was so close that you could feel his breath on your skin when he spoke. You had to swallow.

“No”, you admitted. For a moment you thought maybe he hadn’t heard you, maybe he’d fallen asleep, but then he moved his arms and you felt a shiver down your spine when his fingertips brushed over the exposed skin of your arms. He wrapped one arm around your waist, his palm resting on the small of your back, and pulled you closer to him. So close that your knees bumped into his thighs. So close that your hands bumped into his torso. So close that your nose bumped into his throat. 

All of them were innocent touches: chaste, easy, light. His skin was barely grazing yours. But they were enough. 

Enough to go crazy over. Enough to hold your breath for a good half minute. 

“Relax”, he muttered, his other hand threading through your hair and holding you just as close as the one on your back.

You swallowed hard. 

“Bradley”, you murmured, not knowing just yet what you were going to say. Maybe you would have pulled away. Or maybe you would have bit the bullet and, for once in your life, taken the chance - maybe you would’ve told him right then and there just what you felt for him. Because friends certainly didn’t do this. 

“We’ll talk tomorrow”, he muttered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head and immediately silencing your inner monologue. “Tomorrow. Just sleep for now.”