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bloatedandalone04 · 2 days ago

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Bets & Bargains - Part 13

Series Masterlist

➪in which you go to bradley’s party and instantly regret it, but he manages to get you to talk to him long enough to tell you what really happened between him and briana.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 4.9k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Fratley ❤️❤️: Hey, I know you don’t want to talk to me right now, and that’s fine, I get it. I just wanted to let you know that I’m having a party tomorrow night and I’d love for you to come. I promise I won’t annoy you or try to get you to talk to me. I just wanted to invite you. Maybe it will be even better than the last one, but not likely since that’s when I met you. Anyway, I hope you can come. I’m sorry.

You were debating on whether or not to go to the party at Bradley’s place.

You really had no reason to, but for some reason you kind of wanted to. It had been a few hours since you stopped crying, and instead of feeling sad, you were now feeling rather pissed off. You wanted to go to the stupid party and yell at Bradley for making you feel so good about yourself, then hurting you so fucking bad.

Maybe that’s exactly what you’ll do.

You were laying on your bed on Tuesday evening, rereading Bradley’s text over and over again, but you have yet to respond. You decided that you weren’t going to, because he didn’t deserve a reply.

Swiping off his contact (after looking at his stupidly cute picture for a few more seconds), you were about to switch to another app when your thumb hovered over a different contact. One you never planned on reaching out to ever again.

You clicked it and read the last text she sent, and you pressed your lips together as a feeling of embarrassment washed over you.

Sammy: You’re so immature, walking away like that yesterday. I really thought that you would’ve realized by now how wrong you were for what happened with Luke and now with this Bradley guy. You ruined any chance with Luke, Y/n. And for what? A hookup with a hot guy? Fucking crazy.

Instead of feeling more and more worked up, you just leaned back on your bed, your thumb hovering over the red button that would ensure that Sam would only get to talk to you face to face. You’d already blocked Luke, with the help of Bradley’s encouragement, and you felt better after you did that. You’d probably feel great if you were to add his sister to your blocked list too.

You didn’t know how long you had been sprawled out on your bed for, but it was nearing nine when you finally pulled yourself together and threw on a simple outfit; jeans and your floral crop top.

Since you weren’t planning on staying long, you didn’t bother with putting on anymore makeup, instead leaving on the natural look you wore to your class earlier.

As you stepped out of your room, you passed by Sam’s door and felt a wave of anger wash over at how fake of a friend she’s been this whole time. Was she ever really your friend? Or was she just pretending for her brother’s sake? Whatever it was, it left you in a bad mood, and you decided to focus that energy onto what you were going to say to Bradley.

Technically, he was still your boyfriend. You never broke up with him, you just asked for space, but as soon as you see him tonight, you’d break it off. You knew your worth now, and sadly it was mainly because of Bradley since he was so sweet to you about your confidence issues you got from being with Luke, but still. It was kind of all his fault.

Since Bradley’s frat house was right across the campus from your dorm, you made it to the bricked structure in less than ten minutes. You were sure if you looked hard enough, you could see the walls literally shaking from how loud the music was inside, and you were now a bit hesitant, because you had just gotten rid of your headache from all the crying, and you did not need another.

But, you wouldn’t be here for long, so you just took a breath and walked into the house you had a stupid amount of fondness for, even now.

Inside looked as packed, maybe even more so, as it did the first time you ever stepped foot in the house. Almost instantly, you felt uncomfortable and overwhelmed, and you crossed your arms in a form of self-protection as you maneuvered your way through the crowd.

Instinctively, you were already looking for Bradley, for comfort or confrontation, you weren’t entirely sure at this point.

The smell of booze and smoke filled your nose as you found yourself in the dining room that was slightly less crowded than the rest of the house, and you pressed yourself against the wall as you sighed.

What were you doing here? This was dumb and you were out of your comfort zone right now, but you just wanted…what, closure? Is that what you wanted? Is that why you were standing in your soon to be ex boyfriend’s dining room?

No. No, you were here to tell him how fucking stupid he was for throwing what you and he were building away, and how pissed you were at him for making you believe he was different from every single fuckboy to ever exist.

But, the second you turned your head to the right and saw his pretty brown eyes staring back at you, everything you had planned to say to him left your mind, and your body heated up in the way it always did whenever you saw him.

Suddenly you had no fucking clue what to say to him, so you just kept your mouth shut and turned to face him as he began walking towards you.

Bradley hoped you would come tonight.

After fucking it up with you, he was desperate to make things right. How? He had no idea. You were under the impression that he slept with Briana, but you ran out before he could explain, or even come up with a way to explain that it wasn’t what it looked like at all.

You never actually answered his text that invited you to this party, but he knew that you read it, and he hoped that he would be able to find you eventually, because you were the only good thing in his life right now. He missed you, even though it had only been a day.

Bradley wandered around his packed house completely sober, a red cup full of beer held loosely in his hand as he subtly looked for you, hoping to anyone listening that you did come, and that he could hopefully get you to talk to him.

When he walked into the dining room, he spotted you almost instantly, tucked away in the very corner he met you in. His heart leaped a bit as your eyes met his, and you looked so small and vulnerable, Bradley felt terrible for putting you through this, but he couldn’t deny how fucking and relieved he was that you showed up.

He could tell that you had already put walls up around you as he made his way through the crowd, and he hated it. “Hey,” he said softly, and he wasn’t sure you even heard him over the loud music, but it didn’t matter. You were here. “I’m so sorry, babes.”

He knew he told you that he wouldn’t try to get you to talk to him, but how could he not? He knew he was losing you, and he had to at least try to stop it.

“Can we…can we go somewhere private? Or quiet at least?” He nearly begged as you crossed your arms and huffed. “Please? I’ll let you yell at me for as long as you want, but only after I explain things to you. Properly.”

“Why? So I can watch you cheat on me again?” You muttered, looking up at him with guarded eyes, and Bradley fucking hated it, because you had never looked at him like that since he met you. “I thought you said you wouldn’t bother me, Bradley.”

He furrowed his brows, knowing that he needed to be extra careful with his words right now because you clearly didn’t trust him at the moment, and he needed to change that. “No, baby, that’s not what I meant at all. I promise you, I would never cheat on you, let alone with Briana. What you saw is just a big misunderstanding, I swear,” he murmured, his voice genuine and sincere. “I want to talk, just the two of us, please? I don’t want to lose you, Y/n. I don’t want to lose us.”

You looked away when he placed one hand on the wall next to your head, your voice barely heard over the loud music. “A misunderstanding? She was in your bed, Bradley, I-” you cut yourself off with another huff. “I don’t see how that can be a misunderstanding.”

Because you’re not letting me explain, he wanted to say but was afraid it’d just make things worse.

Bradley closed his eyes, collecting himself for a few seconds before opening them again, and he was starting to sound a bit desperate. “I get that it looks bad, but I swear, I promise you that nothing happened. Briana passed out in my bed and I slept on the couch. That’s it,” he said, feeling a headache forming from both the loud thumping and from how terribly this was going. “I know I messed up by not explaining it to you better or sooner, but I’m telling you right here and right now that I did not cheat on you.”

You looked at him with a conflicted expression on your pretty face, and he had a flicker of hope that maybe, maybe, he could convince you to let him explain it better than that.

“Please, Y/n,” he mumbled as he leaned in closer. “Let’s go somewhere and talk properly. I need you to understand.”

“Bradley,” you trailed off, and he felt his heart fall. But then you sighed and nodded. “Okay. Fine.”

He perked up at that and it only took him a few seconds to process your words before he was giving you a grateful smile and gesturing for you to follow him. “Let’s go to my room where it’s quiet, and if you still want to leave after I explain everything…then at least you’ll know the truth,”

When he started walking after handing his untouched cup off to a random person, you thankfully went with him and followed him up to his room. His door didn’t block out all the sound, but it did muffle quite a bit of the loud music, leaving only a faint thumping.

Bradley closed the door behind you and moved to sit on the edge of his bed, but you stayed by his desk instead of sitting next to him, which he understood. Still, you had never been this closed off with him before, and he hated it. “I’m sorry for making you doubt me. That’s the last thing I wanted to do, okay?” He started, but you were barely looking at him, and he didn’t know how to fix this. “Babes…come here, please?”

When he called you by your nickname, you quickly looked over at him and crossed your arms, a conflicted look on your face before you gave in. You sighed and moved to sit next to him, but not nearly as close as you usually do.

He ran his hands over his face, because the distance between you and him wasn’t even just physical at this point, but emotional too. “Briana called me Sunday night a few hours after you left, and she was going on and on about all this random shit, and I was two seconds away from hanging up on her and blocking her number, then she started talking about a guy that wouldn’t leave her alone, and I didn’t know what to do,” he said, putting it out there right at the start that he had no intention of ever letting Briana back in his bed. “She sounded drunk and like she was on something, so I picked her up from this party across town and brought her back here so she could crash on the couch and leave in the morning, but she went up to my room and passed out on my bed before I could get her back downstairs.”

Your gaze softened just a bit as you processed his words, your brows coming together as you looked away, and he had a small feeling of hope that maybe he was getting somewhere, so he continued before you could say anything.

“I slept on the couch and went to wake her up to get her to leave, and I thought she did when I was getting ready for class in my bathroom, and that’s when you came in and saw her in my bed,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck that still kind of hurt from sleeping on the couch with no pillow. “You should’ve never seen that, and it should’ve never happened, but I didn’t want anything bad to happen to her at that party.”

You looked back at him and slumped your shoulders. “Why did she call you?”

Bradley let out a humorless laugh, shrugging. “Because she misses fucking me and thinks that I’d throw away what you and I have for a forgettable night with her, which didn’t happen and will never happen,” he answered. “I know I should’ve pushed harder to get her out of here sooner, but I was exhausted and annoyed, and I didn’t even want to be near her, let alone talk to her. You have to believe me, Y/n. Nothing happened between Briana and I.”

He watched your eyes soften even more before tears gathered along your waterline, and you looked down at his bed. “Bradley, I feel so embarrassed about everything…walking in here and seeing her in your bed, in this bed, it just brought everything back. I feel like I’m not good enough or that I don’t give you enough,” you whispered and Bradley narrowed his eyes, but you continued, “Nothing happened? Nothing at all?”

“Nothing at all,” he confirmed quickly, moving a bit closer to you. “And you’re more than enough for me. Everything about you is more than enough. You make me a better person just by being in my life.”

The look you gave him was one he’d seen many times before, your eyes no longer guarded and distant. “Really?” You mumbled, reaching up to gently caress his jaw, and he nearly groaned in relief.

“Really, baby,” Bradley whispered, leaning into your touch. “There’s nobody else I want, only you. Tell me what I can do to prove it to you.”

You shake your head and give him a small, shy smile. “There’s nothing to prove, Bradley,” you murmured, waiting a few seconds before letting out a sigh. “So…you don’t want to get back with Briana? And you and I…you don’t think we’re rushing this? We’re okay?”

The thought of ever going back to Briana made Bradley’s whole body cringe, and he shook his head. “With Briana and I…there’s nothing left between her and I but bad memories and regret. No, I don’t want to get back with her. Why would I? I have you right here,” he reached up and stroked your bottom lip with his thumb. “And no, I don’t think we’re rushing anything. I feel like I’ve known you for years, that’s how much you’ve impacted my life already.”

You nodded slowly, then gave him a guilty look. “I’m sorry that I said I wasn’t over Luke,” you whispered, moving towards him and settling down on his lap. “I swear, I’m over him. He doesn’t mean anything to me anymore. He was just my first boyfriend, that’s all.”

Bradley smiled, because he didn’t believe for a second that you weren’t over that asshole, you were just saying that in the moment. “It’s okay,” he mumbled, pressing his lips to the side of your head as his hands gripped your waist, holding you firmly against his chest. “I know you’re over him, and I’m over Briana. I’m all in with you, alright? Just because you had some doubts for a bit doesn’t change anything between us.”

Thinking about it, Bradley probably would’ve lost his mind if he walked in and saw Luke in your bed, and there’s no telling what he would’ve done once the initial shock wore off, so he didn’t blame you for a single second for reacting the way you did. He trusted you, and he wanted you to keep trusting him.

“Okay,” you said quietly, “I didn’t want to doubt you, Bradley. And I’m sorry I did, I should’ve listened a lot better.”

Bradley grabbed your hand and laced your fingers together, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “It’s okay, baby,” he rasped, “Let’s forget about Luke and Briana, alright? They don’t matter anymore. Only we do, right here and right now. Can we move past this and just start fresh?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips, and Bradley couldn’t believe how much he had missed this feeling in so little time. “Let’s take it slow tonight? Just…stay in here with me.”

Bradley grinned and nodded, resting his forehead against yours. “Sounds perfect,” he mumbled, leaning in to kiss you again as he cradled your face. “Just you and me.”

There was no way he’d go back to the party, not when he had you back in his room and on his lap after being convinced that he’d fucked things up with you beyond repair.

“You and me. We’ll keep it PG tonight, okay? But tomorrow…” you trailed off with a teasing smile before you looked down at your jeans and your pretty crop top he’s seen you wear a few times now. You always managed to look so stunning every time he saw you. “Got anything more comfortable for me to wear?”

Bradley hummed and nodded, giving your hips a firm squeeze before setting you beside him on his bed. “Actually, yeah,” he answered, walking over to his school bag and pulling out the UVA hoodie he had bought this morning after class. “How’s this?” He asked with a grin as he held it out to you.

“You have one?” You asked in shock, taking the brand new hoodie from him with wide eyes.

“I do now,” he answered, crossing his arms as he leaned back against his desk. “Though, I’ll probably never get that back now, huh?”

You shook your head as you tugged off your shirt and pulled the hoodie on, and Bradley bit his lip. It was big on you and it fell to your mid thigh, and you looked really fucking hot in it.

He couldn’t believe he had managed to save his relationship with you.

“You’re never getting this back,” you confirmed, standing up and shrugging off your jeans before stepping towards him. You reached out and unzipped his jeans, pushing them down his legs until he kicked them off, leaving him in just his t-shirt and boxers. “Comfy?”

“Very,” he replied, smirking down at you as he tried to respect your request of keeping it PG tonight. “Suddenly I can’t wait for it to be tomorrow.”

You grinned, leaning up to press your lips to his before taking his hands in yours and pulling him with you as you crawled onto his bed. “Me either,” you laughed, kneeling next to him while he leaned back against the headboard and grabbed his laptop, the party downstairs now completely forgotten about by both of you. “Thank you for explaining things…I missed you.”

Bradley smiled, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you down against his side as he placed the laptop between your bodies. “Thank you for letting me. Thanks for giving me a chance tonight,” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your coconut shampoo he had a large amount of fondness for. “I missed you too, babes.”

You hummed quietly, cuddling close to him as if he hadn’t accidentally made you cry yesterday because of a total misunderstanding. “Wait,” you mumbled, looking up at him before down at his sheets. “You…washed these, right?”

Bradley snorted and nodded, “Of course I did,” he answered. “Briana made them smell like beer and her nasty fucking perfume. I’m still mad about that, because they used to smell like you.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his jaw as you tangled your fingers with his. “Well then…guess I’ll just have to stay with you tonight,” you whispered, then you were kissing him deeply, and Bradley kissed you right back.

Just when he was about to forget about the movie that was playing on his laptop, you pulled away and pressed your cheek against his bicep. “PG, remember?” You teased, and Bradley let out a laugh, because he would gladly let you get away with things like that if it meant he got to hold you in his arms like this.

The next morning, Bradley woke up to the feeling of your lips on his neck, your nose brushing against his scars as you slipped your hand under his shirt. “Baby,” he mumbled, blinking slowly when he opened his eyes. “What time is it?”

The sun hadn’t slipped in through the curtains yet, so Bradley knew it was still a little early. “It’s seven,” you answered, pressing soft kisses along his jaw as you hiked your thigh over his waist under the sheets.

Fuck, he didn’t need to be in class for another three hours, but he couldn’t go back to sleep now, because your knee had brushed against his cock, and he felt it spring to life at just that brief touch.

He was so gone for you already, it was almost pathetic.

Bradley had no idea what the state of his downstairs was, but he didn’t even care, because you had fallen asleep in his hoodie and on his chest, and now you were slowly grinding yourself against his thigh.

“What do you want, babes?” He groaned, his hands grabbing your hips when you crawled onto him and straddled his lap.

“I want you,” you answered, gripping the sides of his face as you ground your body against his.

Bradley hummed, his hands sliding down to your thighs as he leaned up to press his lips to the side of your neck. “Tell me what you need, baby,” he murmured, “I’ll give it to you.”

“I just need you,” came your whimpered response as you reached down to pull off his shirt. “I need to feel close to you.”

Even though you and Bradley had only gone a full day without talking or touching, it was clear that it felt like way longer to both of you, because Bradley needed to feel close to you right now too.

“I’m right here,” he mumbled, tugging at the bottom of his hoodie and pulling it off your body. His hands instantly went to your chest, his thumbs brushing over your nipples as he guided your lips to his in a deep kiss. “You’re so beautiful. Every inch of you is perfect.” He muttered against your lips and earned a soft moan from you.

“Bradley, I want you to fuck me,” you whispered, threading your fingers through his hair as you pressed your bare chest against his.

He pressed another kiss to your lips before nodding and sitting up, his hands reaching for your hips to guide you off him. “Okay, I’ll go get a-”

But then you shook your head and stayed on his lap, your eyes hooded and filled with lust and a hint of nervousness. “I want you to fuck me without a condom,” you added, and Bradley’s hands tightened on your hips.

Fucking you without a condom was a serious step for the both of you, and he had never personally had sex without one before, so of course the thought of doing it with you had him harder than the wall behind him.

“Are you sure?” He asked, his thumbs running along the edge of your panties. He wanted to make sure that this was something you wanted, and not a heat of the moment kind of thing, because the last thing he wanted was for you to regret anything with him. This would be only the second time you and he had sex, so he wanted to ensure that you really wanted this.

With that being said, his cock was aching in his boxers at the thought of taking you completely bare.

“I want to feel you. I’m on the pill, so it’s still protected,” you said, reaching down to palm him through the tight material that covered him. “If you don’t want to, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay if I don’t want to, because I want to so fucking bad,” he said quickly, lifting his hips when you began to tug down his boxers. “I just need you to tell me again that you want to.”

“I do,” you mumbled, pulling down and kicking off your panties before settling back down on his lap with nothing covering your sinful body from his eyes. When your core brushed against his cock, his hips jolted and an embarrassingly loud groan left his throat, but you just grinned at him as you slowly guided yourself down onto him. “Have you done this without one before?” You asked, bracing your hands on his shoulders while he had to hold off on coming right then and there, because holy fuck this felt unreal.

You felt unreal, and Bradley tightly gripped your waist as he shook his head. “Nope,” he answered through his teeth as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Never. Only with you now.”

The look you gave him was so sweet and sexy, he had to bite down on his lip as you slowly began to ride him. “I haven’t either,” you confessed, tangling your fingers in his hair. “But I’m happy you’re my first.”

Fuck, he wanted to be your only. You felt so fucking good, Bradley guided you to go a bit quicker as he pressed kisses along your neck. “Me too, baby,” he grunted, “Faster, babes.”

You moaned quietly, gripping the back of his neck as you lifted your hips and then dropped them, making Bradley groan rather loudly. “Fuck, it feels so good,” you gasped, burying your face against his neck.

“Do you like it like this? Just you and me with nothing in between us?” He rasped, his fingers digging into your skin as you rode him so good and nodded your head in response. “You feel fucking perfect.”

“Bradley,” you whined, pulling back to kiss him deeply as he started to thrust up into your soaked pussy, the lack of a condom making you feel like nothing he had ever felt before. How he went from not knowing where he stood with you last night to fucking you bare this morning, he didn’t know, but he also wasn’t about to keep questioning it.

He was already impossibly close, and he was actually surprised he lasted this long since he nearly came when you just rubbed against him. “Fuck, you’re going to make me cum embarrassingly fast. You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, sucking a mark onto your neck. “Do you want me to pull out?”

You bit your lip and nodded, bouncing on him a bit faster. “Maybe for this first time,” you answered, and Bradley groaned again.

First time? So this was maybe going to happen again? And if it did, you were going to let him cum inside you? Fuck, he was in heaven.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered, rocking your hips against his, and Bradley had to force himself to hold back so you could get there first before he had to pull out of your addictive body.

Your eyes rolled back as you pulled hard on his hair, and he felt you become even warmer around his cock as you came, loud cries leaving your lips as you lazily rode him. “Goddamn, babes,” he grunted, waiting until the very last second before he lifted you off him and came all over your stomach and thighs with a deep groan. “Fuck…”

You moaned softly, watching as he painted your skin white, a sheepish grin on your face as you ran your fingers through his hair. “That was a lot,” you murmured and Bradley let out a hoarse laugh, dropping his forehead to your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush against his.

“Yeah, well, if you could feel what I just did…” he muttered, not caring at all that both you and he were now covered in his mess. He was just so fucking happy that you were still with him. “I’m sorry for what happened on Monday. I promise, I’ll never do anything to break your trust again.”

You hummed, draping your arms around his shoulders. “And I’m sorry for overreacting,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his scarred cheek. “From now on, no more running away instead of listening to the full story, and no more having your ex in your bed.”

Bradley laughed again and nodded, lifting his head to meet your gaze. “Deal,” he agreed, then rolled you onto your back and kissed you again.

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bradshawshawaiianshirt · 22 hours ago

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Stuck on the Past | Part 8

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Ex-girlfriend!Reader

Summary: You never thought you'd see Bradley Bradshaw again, especially the way things ended between the two of you. So what happens when he's suddenly back for a special mission and is determined to win you back too?

Warnings: Angst (ish), adult language, drinking

Length: 1.8k

Stuck on the Past masterlist

"We need to talk."

Bradley stood in front of you, his heart pounding and slightly breathless from jogging up the stairs to your door. As soon as he'd docked, he'd sped towards your apartment, probably running a few red lights along the way. He knew he probably looked tired and he was still in his flight suit, but you were the only thing on his mind. He didn't have time to waste. He didn't know what he was going to say or do, he just knew he had to see you and the right words would find him. Hopefully.

When he pulled up outside your building, his first thought was that you wouldn't buzz him in, so he couldn't believe his luck when April opened the the main entrance at the same time he'd been walking towards it.

She saw him immediately and had held the door open tentatively, almost guarding the building, looking him up and down, before sighing, "Great timing, she's upstairs." He nodded quickly and moved to walk in, but she stopped him, her voice stern, "Don't fuck it up this time, Bradshaw."

"I wont." he said quickly, as he held her stare. Eventually, April nodded, and stood aside to let him in. "Thank you." he said, before jogging in the direction of your door.

Once he was stood outside, he wasted no time in knocking. But when you answered almost instantly, he realised he still hadn't thought of what he was going to say, so he settled on, "We need to talk."

Your breath caught in your throat as you saw him, "Bradley?"

"I'm here." he huffed, "Can I come in? Please?"

You bit your lip nervously and nodded, cautiously letting him inside. He walked into your living room and frowned as he saw the boxes scattered across the floor. His eyes flicked from box to box as you said, "Ignore all the boxes, I'm-"

"Are you moving?" he quickly turned to face you.

You nodded, unable to meet his eyes, "It's a long story-"

"But you didn't write the article?" Bradley took a few steps towards you, his head spinning as he hoped you were just moving to a new place somewhere close by.

You shook your head, "No. I didn't write it." You watched as Bradley glanced at all the boxes again, "I got another job... In Washington. My flight leaves tomorrow."

His eyes met yours once again. He paused, before shaking his head, "No. You're not leaving."

You frowned, "Bradley, I'm sorry about what happened but-"

"No." he said, taking another step towards you, "You're not leaving. You can't." he paused, "I almost died out there. I almost died so I can't... I won't waste anymore time on- on running, running from us, from... being happy." he ran a hand through his hair, "You make me happy. That's the bottom line. I want that for the rest of my life and I know you do too."

"Bradley..." you sighed.

"I've been in love with you since the minute I saw you," he continued, "and you know what? Through all the deployments and moving, that's the only constant thing in my life. Whether we're together or we're not, it doesn't matter because I love you." he rambled, "When I first saw you, at the Hard Deck, I couldn't believe my luck. It's like I was being given another chance to do things right. I thought... it was like, fate or something."

You felt a lump in your throat as he continued, "And when- when I found out about the article, I was upset, you know, I was pissed." he huffed, "But I was more angry with myself. I was angry because I screwed us up, you were right, okay? I ran." he stepped forward and gently placed his hand on your cheek, "But I'm not that person anymore, I'm not scared anymore, I want you. All of you. I want cheesy movies and late night talking, I want you to beat me at pool every single time we play." he chuckled, tucking a stray hair behind your ear, "I love you. I always have and sweetheart, that's just the way it's always going to be. So you're not leaving. You can't."

Bradley let out a tense breath and watched you closely as he waited for you to say something. He didn't think he'd been that honest with anyone in years, but there was no way in hell he could lose you a second time.

Your eyes drifted from his and towards the floor, "Bradley.." you sighed and finally met his eyes, "You were the love of my life and I... I think about you all the time, but-"

"No," he muttered, "No buts, please-"

You shook your head and took a step back from him, "You and I... We don't work. We might have worked for a little while back then, but that was years ago. Things are different now, I'm different and I can't-" you took a breath, holding back the tears that were threatening to spill, "I can't put myself through loving you again. Not when it's bound to end the same way."

"Sweetheart-"

"I think you should leave." you crossed your arms, wanting to look strong, clam and collected, when really all you wanted was to run to him and tell him everything was fine. You knew, however, that you couldn't, that you needed a fresh start, that it was the rational thing to do.

Bradley said nothing. The most he could do was give you a small and curt nod, before quietly leaving your apartment.

That was when you let the tears come.

It was the next morning, while waiting to board your flight, that he called you. You'd spent all night second guessing your decision, going to call him and then switching your phone off, you'd practically forced yourself through the airport. It was times like these when you wished you had some sort of angel or something to tell you what to do, whether you should make the smart decision or the reckless one. You watched as he called, deciding ultimately not to pick up, since it was almost boarding time anyways, but you couldn't resist listening to the voicemail he'd left you.

You found a quiet corner of the airport and pressed play.

Hey, uh, I was just going to call to say that I hope you have a safe flight.

There was a pause.

Okay, no, I know that's what I should be saying but-

You heard him groan.

If by some miracle you listen to this before you get on the plane, could you just do one thing for me? Switch off your brain for a second. You've always been smart, way smarter than me, but I need you to just.. not be, just for a minute.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you carried on listening.

I want you to listen to your heart for a sec. I know it sounds cheesy sweetheart, but I need you to think about how you feel. If you don't love me, go ahead and get on that plane, and I promise you, I will never bother you again. But if you do...

You heard him sigh.

I'm gonna be waiting for you tonight at the Hard Deck. If you don't come by 11... then I'll know, and I'll try to move on, even though my heart is and will always be yours. Goodbye sweetheart.

The line cut off and you stared at your phone screen for what felt like forever, until a voice echoed through the airport.

"Flight 731 to Washington is now boarding. All passengers on flight 731 to Washington, your flight is now boarding."

Bradley sat at the bar of the Hard Deck and checked his watch for the eighth time, 10.46. He sighed and glanced around the bar again, feeling stupid, because for all he knew, you hadn't even got the voicemail and had maybe even already landed in Washington.

He tapped his fingers against the bar top, quickly turning when he felt a hand on his shoulder, but sighing when it was only Mav. He sat down on the stool next to him, clearing his throat, "You okay?"

Although the two men had spoken a bit about their past and were on their way to mending things, it was still slightly awkward between them. Bradley shrugged a little and took a sip of his beer, "I'm, uh, I'm waiting for someone, who I'm not sure is even gonna show up." he grunted.

Mav grinned a little, "Is this 'someone' a girl, by any chance?" Bradley nodded as he continued, "Well, I've never had the best luck with women," he chuckled, "but you want my advice? Trust the universe."

Bradley snorted, "Never took you for a spiritual guy, Mav."

Mav grinned and shrugged, patting Bradley's back as he stood, "I'm not, but in my experience, the universe always has a plan." He began to walk away but paused, "Why don't you help me fix up a plane I've been working on this weekend? Keep ya busy."

Bradley slowly began to nod, "Sure, we can do that."

Maverick smiled, giving him another pat before walking away. Bradley noticed Penny hadn't been around the bar in a while, and it dawned on him that Mav may have been there waiting for someone to show up too.

He shook his head and chugged the rest of his beer, checking his watch again, 10.59. He sighed, standing up and leaving the bar, strolling towards his bronco, ready to head home and sleep off his sadness. When he looked up to see his car in the distance, he noticed something.

Someone was leaning against the passenger door.

His footsteps quickened and once he was a few steps away he let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

There you were, effortlessly beautiful in jeans and white t-shirt, hair down and moving with the breeze, and your eyes were on him. Exactly the way Bradley knew it should be.

As he got closer he grinned, "You're late."

You smiled and took a few steps towards him, "Shut up and kiss me Bradley."

You could deny it all you wanted but realistically, you knew. As soon as you saw him at your doorstep, hell, from the night you'd seen him at the Hard Deck, he had you. So, even if it wasn't the smart thing to do, or maybe it was, you didn't care. Bradley reached forward and grabbed your waist, his lips quickly finding yours as your hands made their way up to his hair. The kiss was gentle yet passionate, full of words that neither of you had the guts to say over the years you'd been apart. It was right then, as he kissed you against the backdrop of the sea, that you knew you'd done the right thing.

It almost felt like you were both young again, because nothing had changed. Not really.

When you both pulled away for air, he rested his forehead against yours. Of course there were conversations you both needed to have with each other, things to work out, but for now that could wait.

"I love you. So much." Bradley muttered against your lips.

You knew any important conversations didn't matter, because you'd both chosen each other and right now, that was enough.

"I love you too, Bradley."

---

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I might do an epilogue for these two but I'm not sure yet - let me know if its something you'd wanna read!

#bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster imagine #rooster top gun #rooster x reader #rooster x you

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roosterforme · 1 month ago

Text

Wild Rooster Chase | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley thinks about you more than he should, and his feelings for you run deeper than they ought to. You've never given him an indication that you want to take the teasing touches and playful flirtation to the next level, so he never pressed his luck. When you surprise him by sending a text message that could change everything, he's ready to chase you all over San Diego for some answers.

Warnings: adult language, fluff, angst, drinking

Length: 5700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Banner by @thedroneranger

"What are you ladies doing here?" Bradley asked as you walked in with Halo and Phoenix on either side of you. "Thought tonight was the bachelorette party?"

"The Hard Deck is our first stop of the evening," you informed him as you planted your palm on his chest with a smirk, and he let you push him away from the bar. "We couldn't miss out on letting you guys see how nicely we clean up."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, as if he wasn't actively ogling you in your mini dress and high heels. He'd never been one to hide it, and he'd never been one to check out the other two, either. But that didn't mean he was going to act on it, because he was absolutely convinced this was just a game for you. One that he loved participating in. One that he knew was never going to go anywhere real.

"Yeah," you verified with a laugh. "We look hot."

"An indisputable fact," he whispered as he pretended like you were actually pushing him further out of your way. He'd move wherever you wanted him to, as long as you just kept touching him.

"Shoo," you scolded, looking up at him as your knee bumped his leg. "I need to buy some drinks, and you're in my way."

He covered your hand with his big one and immediately stopped moving. "Nice try, Blaze," he said with a grin as you attempted and failed to get him to budge more. "But I'm definitely buying you all a round for Callie's big night." He tossed his credit card onto the bar and draped one arm around Halo and the other around you before leaning in close to you and whispering, "And you always look nice. Even in your flight suits."

"What can I get for you ladies? And Rooster?" Penny asked, cutting him off just as he had you rolling your eyes. "Wait... he's not going out for Halo's bachelorette night, is he?"

"Absolutely not," you told her, tilting your head to look up at him with a devilish grin that made him a little nervous. His arm was still heavy across your shoulders as you said, "He's just here to buy us three Johnnie Walkers. Blue Label. Neat."

"What?" His voice was strangled, and his eyes were wide. "That's over a hundred bucks!"

"But it's what we want. Isn't it, ladies?" you asked Halo and Phoenix as you tried not to laugh.

"It is," Halo confirmed. "And I'm the one getting married next weekend."

When Bradley moaned and nodded at Penny, you gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Rooster. You're the sweetest."

"You mean I'm a sucker," he said, finally releasing both of you. "So where are you headed after this?"

Halo accepted her expensive Scotch as she said, "Cowboy Star for a steak dinner."

Bradley snorted. "Don't forget to take Jake with you," he said, nodding to where the other guys were hanging out near the dart board.

"No boys allowed," you reminded him. "Especially not since we're taking Halo to Cheetahs after dinner."

"Strippers?" he asked as you picked up your Johnnie Walker. "Looking at hot, naked chicks? Sounds fun. What else?"

"Dancing at Pleasure Town!" Phoenix said, taking the last Scotch and holding it up. You and Halo both tapped your glasses to hers.

"Thanks, Rooster!" you said before taking a sip. He just shook his head as you pressed your lips to the glass, but a few seconds later, he ran his index finger along your arm and leaned a little closer again.

"Hey, you call or text me if you need anything, okay? I'll keep my phone on all night for you girls."

A chill seemed to run through your body, and just the mere thought of you calling him in the middle of the night left his mouth dry with need.

You chewed on your lip and looked up at him. "I'll let you know if I need you."

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

I'll let you know if I need you.

Bradley couldn't stop thinking about that sentence. If you ever told him you needed or even wanted him for anything, he'd be there instantly. He wasn't afraid to admit to himself that he'd had a crush on you from the first day you arrived at Top Gun. He was sure you knew it, too. But there were some things he just didn't want to mess with. Your call sign was Blaze for a reason, after all. Too fucking hot to handle. Too damn enticing to be interested in him.

So he did what he always did on Saturday nights. Found the second cutest girl at the bar and tried his luck.

It was two hours later and three drinks in with the redhead, and he knew he could probably get as lucky as he wanted to. Her hand was on his thigh, inching closer to the hem of his tropical print shirt, and she was all smiles.

"Let's play something on the jukebox," she told him, and he agreed as he followed after her. To his dismay, she picked your favorite song, and now he was having a bit of a hard time staying focused on the task at hand as she tucked herself against the wall and pulled him closer by his shirt.

"You like this song?" he asked, glancing at the jukebox like he expected you to be standing there.

She shrugged and said, "Not really. I just pushed some random buttons," with a little giggle. "Now, come here."

Alright, so her lips were soft, and her tongue tasted like bourbon. She placed his hands on her hips, and he gave a little test squeeze which resulted in her tongue in his mouth. But the song was pulling up some other memories of you and him dancing together on New Year's Eve. When he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, it was almost a relief to pull away.

"Hey," she complained, reaching for him as he unlocked his phone. "I'm over here, Rooster."

"Sorry," he muttered, looking at her briefly, but he really wasn't. The text he got was from you. He held up one finger and took a step back as he opened it up.

Blaze: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

"What the fuck?" Bradley said out loud as his eyes scanned the message again. It was a joke. It had to be. Or else he was reading it wrong? "Holy shit."

When he finally looked up, the redhead was pouting with her arms crossed. He needed another opinion, and he'd already lost interest in her anyway. He held up his phone and asked, "What does this mean?"

He watched her eyes as she read it, and a little crease appeared on her forehead. "It says get a life, jerk." She went walking off toward her friends as Bradley looked around for someone else to help him out. The guys were all playing pool and darts, but he didn't trust them as far as he could throw them anyway.

"Hey, Penny," he called out, cutting off several people who were trying to order drinks. He leaned all the way across the bar top to where she was pouring a martini. "Tell me I'm not losing my mind."

When he held up his phone, she squinted at the screen, and then her eyes went wide as she smiled at him. "I think someone overdid it and finally stated the obvious."

He was sweating now, afraid he was going to get this all wrong. "Like you think this is actually how she feels?"

She laughed and handed off the martini before pouring some wine. "Well, I don't want to speculate on someone else's behalf..."

"Bartenders are supposed to speculate," he told her, ready to climb over the bar and chase her down as she turned away from him to serve the wine. "It's your god given obligation."

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Well, then, merely speculating, I would say that the way the two of you cozy up with each other seems a little more than platonic."

He shook his head. "No, that's probably just me you're reading in the scenario." But she was shaking her head back and forth as well. "It's her, too?" Now she was nodding as she reached for a pint glass. "Like she might actually want to make something happen here?"

"Speculation," Penny told him. "But I think you should find out for sure."

He could call you. He pushed himself away from the bar, found a nice, quieter corner, and he tapped your number in his phone.

'Hi, it's me. I can't answer my phone, probably because I'm flying a seventy million dollar aircraft at the moment. Leave a message.'

"Damn it," he groaned, already thinking about how nice it would be to sling his arm around your shoulders and lean all the way in next time. Let his lips meet yours instead of hitting the brakes like he'd trained himself to do. "Wait!" he said to nobody in particular now that he'd walked away from Penny. "Cowboy Star!"

Bradley had the fortitude to keep his phone out and use the rideshare app he had downloaded. He was definitely not sober enough to do this in the Bronco, and he couldn't stop fantasizing about your song playing on the jukebox while he had your body pressed up against the wall. He needed to get to you and get some questions answered.

He chose the closest driver in the app, and while he was waiting for Julian in his white Toyota Camry to arrive, he read your text again.

Blaze: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

"Is she so serious right now?" he asked the night air as he waited in the parking lot. "Is she so fucking serious about this? I think about it, too! A lot!" he practically shouted as he responded to your text.

Blaze, call me back. Are you talking about a kiss on the cheek? Or something more? We need to discuss ASAP.

"Hey, are you Bradley?"

He looked up to see the white Toyota was just sitting there. You had his head so messed up at the moment, he hadn't even noticed it.

"Julian?"

"Yeah, man," the driver replied, and Bradley quickly climbed in the backseat. "You're heading to Cowboy Star?"

"Yeah," he grunted as he buckled his seatbelt.

"I love it there," he said as he pulled out onto the road that ran parallel to the beach. "My wife got me the porterhouse for my birthday."

Bradley stared at his phone screen, hoping you'd write back or call him. "I'm not actually going for dinner. I'm trying to find a girl."

Julian whistled and shook his head. "Man, you should have just stayed at that bar."

He tipped his head back and groaned. "It's a very specific girl. And she's out with some friends for a bachelorette party."

"You know dudes aren't really supposed to go to those things, right?"

Bradley rubbed his free hand across his face and said, "I know, but she sent me this text that is very thought provoking."

"What's it say?"

He kind of felt like an idiot telling his story to his Uber driver, but he still wasn't sure he was understanding your words correctly. It just didn't make sense.

"Julian, I am very firmly in the friend zone with this hot girl from work, and tonight she sent me this message: Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time."

"Bro," Julian said as he hit the accelerator a little harder. "You're so in, man."

"Am I?" Bradley asked, squeezing his phone and wondering why you weren't calling him back. "Like, this girl is smoking hot. She's cool as hell, too. And we flirt a bit, but it never goes anywhere. And now she's not answering me."

"Just hang on." Julian went a little faster still. "I'll get you there so you can sweep her off her feet."

Bradley hung onto the door handle, not even sure he knew how to sweep you off your feet. What kinds of guys did you usually go for? He'd be lying if he said he never noticed that your last boyfriend kind of looked like him. And in general, you seemed to have a thing for guys with brown hair who were pretty tall.

"Shit," he grunted, just torturing himself by imagining he could be the one holding your hand and making you laugh. "Are we almost there?"

"Hell yeah, dude. Next block up."

When Julian stopped at to the curb, Bradley lunged out onto the sidewalk as he shouted, "Thank you!"

"Good luck!"

The restaurant was absolutely packed, and even the line to talk to the host was long. After a few seconds, he simply walked to the front and cut everyone else off.

"Hey!" complained the woman who was now behind him as he cleared his throat and addressed the host.

"Excuse me, but do you know if there are still three hot women here eating dinner together?" he asked the host who gave him a bland look. "They were all in tight little dresses. One was red, one was blue, and one was like a gold color. And one of them was wearing a bachelorette sash!"

"Oh," he replied with a little smirk. "Those three." Bradley didn't appreciate the way his little grin grew as he said, "Hot is certainly the right word to describe them."

"Are they still here?" he asked impatiently, trying to look past him into the dining room now.

"No. They left about an hour ago."

"Fuck," he groaned, pushing away from the podium and storming back outside into the night. He found a spot on the busy sidewalk where he could stand, and he tried to call you again.

'Hi, it's me. I can't answer my phone, because I'm probably flying a seventy million dollar aircraft at the moment. Leave a message.'

He wanted to scream, but he calmly said, "Blaze, it's Rooster. Call me back." When he hung up, he opened the rideshare app again, and he luckily saw Julian on the map immediately and tapped on his little icon. "Come on, Julian," he muttered, already looking down the street for the trusty Toyota to make its return. "Yes!"

Bradley threw himself into the backseat once again as the driver asked, "That was quick, bro. What happened?"

"They already left for the strip club," he groaned.

"Cheetahs?" Julian asked, tapping at his own phone before he started driving again. "Not gonna pretend I've never been there before."

Bradley tried to call you again, and once again he got to hear your voice tell him you weren't available. "I just don't understand why she's telling me this now, you know? I've known her for almost two years."

"Two years in the friend zone? Bro, do you have no game?"

"Julian, do not test me right now," Bradley said with a laugh. He held up his thumb and index finger and added, "I was this close to sealing the deal with another girl at the Hard Deck when I got the text from her."

"Ohhhh. So you're in love with her. Understood, my man."

Bradley sat back against the seat and stared out the window as the city lights streaked past. In love. Was he? You always seemed too perfect to get involved with. But love? Is that why he never pushed for more?

"Damn," he muttered. "Maybe." Was the fear of crashing and burning what was ultimately holding him back?

That was when Julian pulled a slick u-turn and coasted into the parking lot of Cheetahs which was advertising fully nude girls. He should have been concerned that suddenly the only girl he wanted to see that way was you. "Thanks, Julian," he said as he hopped out and slammed the door closed.

"You got this!"

Well at least Julian thought he could pull off something impossible tonight.

"Whoa, I'm going to need to see some ID."

Bradley realized that his path was suddenly blocked by an absolutely massive bouncer with a bushy beard.

"Come on," he complained, digging his wallet out of his back pocket. "I'm thirty-five."

"No ID, no entrance."

"Yeah, yeah. Understood," he said trying to get his driver's license free as one of the strippers walked outside for a break. He craned his neck to see through the open door as the loud music filtered out before the door closed.

"Hey, Cherry," the bouncer grunted, and Bradley looked down at the stripper who was leaning against the wall wearing a pink wig, the tiniest g-string and some pasties.

She was looking at Bradley a little skeptically as she replied, "Hey, Murph." She kicked a rock out into the parking lot as she told Bradley, "You're getting here awfully late. All of the private rooms have been reserved for the rest of the night."

"I'm not here for that. I'm just looking for some girls," he replied, waiting patiently while Murph inspected his ID.

"Yeah," she said with a laugh. "We've got plenty of those. The hottest ones in San Diego, if you believe the neon sign above your head."

"No," he told her, really not in the mood to recount his story again. "I'm looking for some women I work with."

Now Cherry looked downright unconvinced as she asked, "Are you a stripper?"

Bradley accepted his driver's license back and gave Cherry a hesitant look. "Well, no, I'm not."

"Didn't think so," she muttered, and Bradley stopped in his tracks before he even reached for the door handle.

"Excuse me?" he asked, giving her a much more scathing look. "What's that supposed to mean? I'd be a fantastic stripper."

She shook her head and adjusted her tiny underwear. "You don't have the right build for it."

Bradley burst out into sardonic laughter. "Cherry, you must be joking," he said as he tucked his wallet away and flexed his biceps. "I could totally be a stripper."

"What song would you dance to?" she asked in an accusatory tone.

"Sweet Emotion," he told her immediately. Yeah, he'd thought about it before, and yeah, he knew he'd absolutely kill it up on stage. But she just made a face in response. "What's wrong with my song?"

"Nothing, I guess, but there's no way you'd be raking in the tip money."

Bradley pointed across the parking lot to Hard D Boys, the male club that was associated with Cheetahs, and said, "Just for that, I'm coming back for their open auditions night, because you have no idea what you're talking about." She shrugged, and he shook his head. "I don't have time for this. Have you seen three hot women? A red dress, a blue dress and a gold dress? Like short dresses?" he asked, tapping his thigh with his hand to indicate that your dress left little to his imagination. "They are like around this tall?" he added, sticking his hand in the air around your height.

"Sorry, Mr. Sweet Emotion, but I only take note of the biggest tippers."

Bradley groaned and pushed the door open, and the music was so loud, it wasn't even worth trying to ask the bartenders if they'd seen you. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he walked around the cavernous club, trying to locate you three, but it was mostly men. And then he had the disturbing thought that maybe some guys tried to pick you up.

"Why are you doing this to me, Blaze?" he whispered to himself as he walked back through every corner he could find. He even asked a woman to check if you were in the ladies' restroom. He came up empty handed again.

"God damn it," he said once he was back outside with Murph.

"To be fair," Murph said as he lit up a cigarette, "I think you'd make an okay stripper."

"Thank you for that," Bradley told him sincerely as he tapped his rideshare app again, but then he heard a horn honking and looked up. It was Julian, hanging out his car window. He'd waited for him.

"She's not here?"

"No, Julian. She's not here!" he said as he rushed toward the Toyota and climbed in.

"Well, where are we going next?"

Bradley closed his eyes and thought about what Phoenix had said earlier at the Hard Deck. "Pleasure Town. They were going dancing at Pleasure Town."

"On it," Julian told him and shifted into drive.

It was after midnight now. Pleasure Town wasn't too far away, but he'd be lucky to even find you in there on the weekend. But if he did, you'd be dancing like crazy with the biggest smile on your face, pretending you liked the music they were playing while you thought about your own playlists instead. You'd be drinking some neon colored cocktail and trying to talk the girls into leaving to get cookies from that place that was open all night. You'd maybe even be checking your phone and finally, finally texting him back.

"Yeah, you're right, Julian."

"About what, my man?"

Bradley rubbed his hands over his face. "I'm in love with her."

Julian reached his arm back at a red light, and Bradley fist bumped him. "Yeah, that's what I'm talking about! I could tell right away. Don't worry. We'll find her."

But it got harder to be hopeful the longer he was in the dance club. There was barely any room to walk around, and there were dozens of women in little dresses that looked like the one you were wearing, but none of them had your face or your smile. You weren't here.

He stood on the dance floor and read your text one more time.

Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

He wanted to know what kissing you would feel like. Now that you opened his mind to something more, he'd never be able to stop thinking about it. But this time, he let himself finally focus on the word regret in your message.You'd regret what you said in the morning. He knew you; he knew you would never go for the idea sober. But he texted you one more time anyway.

Blaze, please call me when you get this. It doesn't matter what time it is. Just call.

When he walked back out into the cool, night air, Julian was right there at the curb waiting with a hopeful look on his face. "Bro, is she here?" When Bradley didn't respond, his face melted into sadness. "Or did she say the 'just friends' shit?"

"She's not here," he replied, once again climbing in the back of the now familiar car.

"We going somewhere else now? The pursuit continues?"

Bradley grimaced and said, "I think I should just throw in the towel and regroup. Can you take me back to the Hard Deck? I'm definitely sober enough to drive home now."

But even Julian sounded disappointed now. "Of course, dude. Anything you want."

"Thanks," Bradley grunted, watching as the city lights faded a bit as they got closer to the beach. When Julian parked near the Bronco, he said, "I appreciate all your help tonight."

He gave Bradley another fist bump. "You gotta start fresh tomorrow, man. And you can't leave me hanging, okay? I need a wedding invitation."

Bradley chuckled as he climbed out for the last time. "I'm about to leave you the biggest tip."

He tapped two hundred bucks into the app as Julian drove off shouting, "Good luck!"

With nothing else he could do right now, he climbed in the Bronco, cranked the engine and started to drive himself home for the night. He was tempted to swing by your place or at least try to call you one more time, but he decided to let you get some sleep before you started to regret your message. That way he'd have a little more time with this hopeful feeling in his chest.

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

There was pounding. There was so much pounding. Maybe someone turned the music up even louder at Cheetahs? Or were you at Pleasure Town now? "Make them turn it down," you moaned, trying to cover your ears. That's when you realized you were in your bed. At home. Someone was knocking on your front door.

"Wait," you croaked as loudly as you could, your ears still buzzing from the loud music all night long. The bachelorette evening had been highly successful. Halo had a great time. But now you were hungover and not in the mood to deal with anyone.

As you climbed out of bed, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand to check the time. The battery was almost dead, and you had a bunch of missed texts and calls, but you couldn't even focus on that until the pounding ceased.

"Please stop," you whined, flinging your door open before you even checked to see who it was. When you saw him it felt like someone poured warm caramel sauce on your heart or shoved you hard into a wall made out of soft foam: he always made you feel good and gooey and squishy in the most heart pounding, confusing way. "Rooster."

When he moved slightly, he stopped blocking the sunlight behind him and you squinted your eyes and groaned as you took a step back. "Blaze," he said in that raspy as sin voice as he blessedly closed your front door behind him. "You have a hangover."

You nodded, but even that was too much. "What gave it away?" you asked him softly, still holding your phone.

He snorted. "Well, for starters, you're still wearing your dress from last night."

"Oh." You hadn't realized that as you looked down at yourself for confirmation. "We went pretty hard. I can't even remember much after you bought us the Johnnie Walker at the Hard Deck."

He remained quiet until you looked back up at his face. "You... remember texting me?" His tone was one you'd never heard before, and it took you a few seconds to realize he was nervous. On edge. Hesitant. He was never any of those things with you, and you didn't like this at all.

"I texted you?" When you lifted your phone higher, you started to wonder why he hadn't hugged you when you opened the door. He usually always did. He swallowed hard, and you watched the scars along his neck as his Adam's apple bobbed.

"You really don't remember?"

Now he just sounded really fucking sad, and for some reason your brain was screaming at you that there was something you were definitely supposed to recall from last night. Something about Bradley. You left him at the Hard Deck after he paid for the Scotch, and then you went to dinner and drank more while you thought about him the whole time. But there was definitely something else.

"No. I really don't remember," you whispered, annoyed with yourself. You felt like it was somehow your fault that his lips were pressed in a tight line and his brow was creased.

"It's not important," he replied, all businesslike now. "Can I see your phone for a minute?"

"Yeah," you told him, handing it over and watching while he punched in your passcode. "What did you end up doing all night?"

He sighed and looked at you. "I ended up following you around to no avail."

"Why?" you asked, still clearly missing a piece of this whole puzzle as he started tapping your phone screen with his thumb.

"That's not important either," he whispered, and you decided you didn't like any of this.

You snatched your phone out of his hand and wrapped your arms around his neck. Almost reluctantly, he hugged you back before reaching his hand up to where you were holding your phone, trying to get it again. "What do you want my phone for so badly?"

He was acting strange, and when he said nothing in response, you lunged out of his grasp and tapped on your text thread with him.

"Blaze," he barked out, but it was too late. You read what you'd sent him last night.

Full disclosure, I'm drunk. And I'll probably regret this in the morning, but... I think about kissing you all the time.

"Oh my god!" you screeched. "I didn't delete that?! I hit send!" You couldn't even meet his eyes now as you tried to figure out how to get him to leave so you could cry in peace.

"Blaze, it's okay," he promised, but you knew it wasn't.

"You were going to delete that message. And the ones you sent to me after it," you accused. "Weren't you?" When he just stared at you silently, you realized he was trying to save you from being embarrassed, but it was way too late for that. He didn't want you. He was never going to want you.

"No hard feelings," he said softly. "Go ahead and delete it yourself. We can pretend this never happened."

"No hard feelings?" you practically wailed, afraid you were going to cry in front of him. "I just ruined everything. You were never supposed to know how I feel about you, Bradley."

As soon as you ducked your head away from him, his fingers were under your chin tipping your face up so you were looking him in his impossibly endearing brown eyes. "I need you to explain this to me. Okay?" He took your phone gently from your hand and held it up with the message displayed. "Please, Blaze. Did you mean it? Is that how you think about me?" When you nodded slightly, he readjusted his hand on your face so he was cupping your cheek instead. "Baby, I followed you everywhere last night. I called you and texted you and rode around in a white Toyota with Julian for hours on end."

"Who's Julian?" you ask softly as Bradley slid your phone into his jeans pocket.

"He's my new friend," he replied, which cleared up exactly nothing for you. "I went on this insane chase from Cowboy Star to Cheetahs to Pleasure Town just to try find out if there was even the slightest chance that you really meant what you said."

He closed the distance between your bodies as he stroked his thumb along your cheek. "It was supposed to be my little secret," you whispered. "I just typed it out to see how it would look. I read it in my head and imagined how you might take it. It was supposed to get deleted. You were never supposed to know."

"Is it really so bad that I do?"

His question hung in the air between you, and once again you nodded. "Yes, Bradley. Yes, because it's going to complicate everything now. Work, and our friends, and hanging out at the bar. It's all ruined. Because you'll never look at me the same way you used to."

"Blaze," he rasped. "Baby, I don't want to look at you the same way I used to. Like I was never going to measure up. Like I could never be what you wanted."

You gasped as your eyes went wide. "What are you saying?"

He groaned and pressed his lips to your forehead, and you melted against him. "I'm saying that I chased you all over the city last night hoping like hell that you meant what you said. And that you didn't regret it."

Your head was spinning, but not from the hangover as you thought about how it could feel to be with this man. "You want this?" you asked in awe as your hands eased up along his chest to slip around his neck again.

"Desperately. And if you think you want to see where it goes, we can take it slow, you know?" he asked, his brown eyes hopeful once again. "We don't have to rush into anything crazy."

But you knew you were already kind of crazy about him. You had been for a long time. So you whispered, "I think I could fall in love with you," and his lips came crashing to yours. You moaned into his mouth. His lips and his mustache were even better than all those times you'd imagined kissing him. His huge hands were bunching up the fabric of your dress at your hips. You wanted every part of your body to be touching him from now until forever.

This was how good it felt when you and he stopped pulling your punches. When you both stopped pumping the brakes. You raked your hands through his wavy hair, gasping for breath as you asked, "Did you really try to find me last night?"

"Of course," he promised as you kissed along his mustache and across his cheek. "It was enlightening. I learned a lot about myself. Hey, do you think I'd be a good stripper?"

"God, Rooster," you groaned just thinking about it. "You'd be an excellent stripper."

"I fucking knew it," he grunted, half guiding you and half carrying you to your bedroom. "Listen, we should cuddle right now, but I'm going to need you to come to Hard D Boys with me one night. I'm pretty sure it's just to prove a point, but you never know."

You really weren't positive what he was talking about now, but it didn't matter. His lips were on your neck, and his weight was pressing you down onto your bed, and he was saying the most wonderful thing.

"I know for sure I could fall in love with you."

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

He's such a simp, he would chase you anywhere. Imagine taking your brand new boyfriend to his stripper audition just because he has to prove a point. I mean, I wouldn't complain lol. Thanks for reading! And thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @thedroneranger

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sometimesanalice · 4 months ago

Text

That’s My Girl

Summary: Bradley has been looking after you for longer than he can remember. You’ve always been his favorite person. So when some guy makes an unwelcomed move on you, that last thing he’s going to do is just sit back and watch it happen.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 6.7K

Warning: language, male chauvinism, allusions to smut, some angst with a happy ending

(author's note: this is a fic is set in the 'Like I Can' universe, however it can be read on it's own!

In hindsight, Bradley should have known how rowdy the crowd at the Hard Deck was going to be tonight.

Sailors fresh off a several months long deployment were always a boisterous bunch. But Sailors fresh from a deployment during San Diego Fleet Week were a different thing entirely.

The bar is packed and humid, even with the doors and windows opened for the Pacific breeze. Penny’s old air conditioning unit might be on its last legs because Bradley’s shirt is sticking to the skin of his back. He’d nearly lost his mind when he’d seen that bead of sweat work its way down your neck and between your breasts when you’d pressed a kiss to his cheek and told him you were getting a refill and asked if he wanted anything.

Bradley really hoped you’d be up for leaving soon. He wouldn’t mind taking a dip in the pool at your apartment. Or better yet, getting you to join him for a cool shower.

It wasn’t the just the deep v of your tank top- or those sweet little embroidered flowers along the edges of it- that hand his fingers twitching to touch you. Although he liked those too.

It was that damn bow.

When Bradley had picked you up from your apartment earlier this evening and seen you wearing that, he’d given you a wolf whistle so loud it had caused your neighbor’s dog to start barking.

He’d taken advantage of your surprised laugh to back you up against your front door to get his mouth along the column of your neck. He’s always been a big picture kind of guy. And he knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until he was tugging open that bow between your breasts with his teeth.

You’d all but sighed his name as your fingers tangled in his hair.

Bradley.

And just as he’d reached your collarbone, you’d pulled him back up to your mouth like you were going to kiss him and murmured Later against his lips before slipping past him, like the menace that you are, leaving him to chase after the trail of your perfume.

You knew what you were doing, that was for damn sure. He’s always been a sucker for a bow. And for you.

Bradley had more than appreciated the extra sway you’d put in your hips just for him as you walked down your hallway towards the elevator. He’d grinned to himself as he set off after you, because at the end of the night, his girlfriend would be coming home with him.

Earlier in the evening, Coyote had been fast to claim the cluster of tables that some Butterbars had left to close out their tabs, most likely onto their way to the next stop of many for the night. It was lucky timing, because there’d been a nonstop steady stream of people making their way into the unofficial designated Naval watering hole for Fleet Week. There was a mix of civilians, Naval regulars who are stationed at North Island, and the visiting Sailors dressed in their uniforms on liberty. Bradley wasn’t sure how many more bodies could be packed in until some of the worn wooden shingles of the bar started popping off.

The lively and loud atmosphere of Fleet Week was something that Bradley had typically enjoyed in the past. He liked seeing people cut loose and laugh as they swapped stories with their friends and families. And he’d been happy to do his part to add to the good times, having been pulled to the piano twice already.

Over the years he’d built up a curated collection crowd-pleasers for occasions just like this. Part peacocking, part coping. While he’s never been the type to shy away from being the center of attention, he’d also found it was easier to breathe in the spotlight. Because with everyone’s eyes on him, it was impossible to feel alone.

So much has changed for him since getting permanently stationed in San Diego. And all for the better. That loneliness was a thing of the past, because now when he played, he was surrounded by all of his favorite people

But Bradley still ends his impromptu sets the same way he always has, with Jerry Lee Lewis. Only now he gets to sing it directly to the girl who’d given him the sheet music to the song in the first place.

The same one, he’s realized, who hasn’t returned back from getting her refill yet.

Bradley takes a quick glance around the corner of the bar they’d laid claim too. Bob, Fanboy, and Payback were lounging against the side of the pool table chatting up some of the visiting Sailors, since there wasn’t enough room to actually play a round without taking someone out with one of the cues. Coyote was leaning over the jukebox flipping through the albums with a pretty civilian who was out with her friends that he’d met and was clearly trying to impress. And Jake and Nat were seated with him at one of the tall round tables taking about the new Top Gun students, where your chair next to him was still empty.

Everyone was accounted for, except you.

There are so many people packed around the edges of the bar that it takes him a moment to find you. He thought maybe you’d been held up by Penny or Jimmy or some other familiar face, but he doesn’t recognize the man who standing way too close to you. But the firm press of your lips tells him everything he needs to know.

He sees the next moment playout as if it’s in slow motion. Watching as you attempt to take a step back, only for the guy to wrap his hand around your wrist to keep you from moving away. Bradley sees you glance down at that hand on you, and back up at the stranger. He knows that look in your eyes as you shake out of his grip. You aren’t just annoyed, you’re pissed.

Bradley slams his beer down and shoves his stool back.

He hears Jake curse behind him, “Oh, shit.”

Chair legs screech against the wooden floor as his friends hustle to follow after him, but he doesn’t wait for them to catch up.

There’s a trail of spilled cocktails and beers in his wake as he unapologetically weaves through the tightly crammed bodies that separate him from you. If anyone has an issue with him later, they can put a refill on his tab. But right now, his only goal is getting to you.

He doesn’t slow for a second. He just struts right up and steps in between you and the other man.

“Do we have an issue here?” he rasps, folding his arms over his chest.

Bradley takes the guy in with a hard glower. The name tape on his uniform reads Wilson. A LTJG, based on his shoulder boards, from one of the visiting ships. The man is big, but Bradley is bigger. And he outranks him. The guy might not know it yet, but it was just another thing he was planning on making crystal clear.

You put a hand on his tense shoulder. “Everything is fine.”

“It sure as shit doesn’t seem fine.” He doesn’t take his glare off of Wilson. “I think it’s time for you to go now.” He jerks his chin towards the front door.

“We’re just having a friendly conversation,” the other man drawls, sending him a wink. The implied innuendo makes Bradley’s jaw clench. There wasn’t anything “friendly” about the way he’d been using his size to keep you trapped at the bar.

The guy is trashed. There’s a blankness behind his eyes that Bradley doesn’t like the look of. He must have pre-gamed before going out because Penny and Jimmy weren’t ones to overserve.

“No, what you’re doing is paying your tab and leaving this bar.” It’s an order.

“Bradley.” You say his name like a warning. “I’m handling it.”

You pull on his shoulder, but he shrugs you off.

“No, kid, I’m handling it for you.” This asshole was Bradley’s problem to deal with now. He’d tapped in the moment he’d seen the man touch you.

“I see.” Wilson’s gaze bounces back and forth between the two of you, an oily grin appears on his face. “You’ve already got someone for tonight lined up. Damn, you didn’t waste any time did you, sweet thing?”

Anger flares hot and bright in his stomach.

“You better watch your mouth,” Bradley spits, pointing a threatening finger.

The bar around him blurs around the edges, but the man in front of him only gets sharper in focus.

You step around him and tug on his arm. From the corner of his eye, he can see you shaking your head at him. “Bradley, stop. I told you, I’ve got it.” Your voice is clipped, tight. “Let me take care of it.”

He knows you want for him to let it go. To back off. And he’s about to- for you- because you want him to. But then he sees the guy’s eyes drop down to the exposed skin of your chest- to that bow between your breasts- and smirks.

It’s a look so filthy that even Bradley feels dirty. He operates out of instinct. Stretching his arm in front of you, he purposefully pushes you back behind him to where he knows Seresin is standing close by, trusting that his friend will move you out of the way.

“A barrack bunny like you must know her way around. I don’t mind another man’s sloppy-”

For a moment, Bradley isn’t at the Hard Deck anymore. He’s standing in Jason Cameron’s kitchen, where the smell of weed and cheap alcohol and Axe hung heavy in the air.

Bradley’s fist flies on its own.

He barely registers the moment his knuckles connect with the other man’s jaw. He doesn’t see the man stumble backwards into the table behind him. He doesn’t hear the surprised gasps or the sound of glass breaking or the thud as the man hits the floor. There’s only the color red and the sound of his own ragged breathing.

When he shakes off the memory and returns back to his body, he’s almost surprised to see the broken bottles on the floor and not shards from a sliding glass door.

The next few minutes are a flurry of chaos as Wilson’s friends come and scoop him off the floor to make their exit. From the looks of irritation on their faces, it seems like this might be an all too frequent occurrence. He makes a mental note to try and look up the man’s supervising officer. And if he can’t find them on his own, he’ll ask Mav to help.

He can feel dozens of eyes on him, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Bradley takes a moment to apologize to Penny. He avoids looking directly in her eyes, not wanting to see the disappointment he’s sure is there. The adrenaline is still coursing and sparking through his body. He needs a moment to work off his anger and get his head back on straight before he comes to check on you. But he knows you’re in good hands with his friends.

Without being asked, he rights the table and stools on his way to the supply closet to grab a broom and dustpan. He takes his time meticulously picking up the bits of broken glass off the ground before he sweeps the rest of it up as he waits for his heartrate to settle back down.

When he’s done, he spots Nat and Jake sitting at the bar top and heads towards them. But for the second time tonight, you’re not where you should be.

“That was some left hook, Bradshaw,” Nat says, pinning him with a flat look over the top of her drink.

He ignores the comment. “Have either of you seen my girlfriend?”

Jake lifts his hand up at about your height. “About this tall? Great smile? Dating a man that’s clearly punching?” He chuckles to himself. “No pun intended.” Those dimples of his are more grating than usual.

Bradley’s hand flexes in irritation. His quick fuse is on its way to being lit again.

“Seresin,” he barks, low on patience, “Where’d she go?”

The other man lets out a low whistle and shares a look with Nat. “She left out the side patio door like ten minutes ago. Looked like she was about to spit nails too.”

“Goddammit,” he mumbles under his breath. He turns to Phoenix. “Did she really look that pissed?”

She shrugs. “I’m surprised she didn’t punch you, I probably would have.”

Bradley’s mouth drops open. “For what? For defending her?”

All he did tonight was stand up for you when someone crossed a line and tried to get physical with you. He wasn’t ashamed for doing it, he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

“But did she want you to do that?” she asks, deliberately.

He doesn’t understand why Nat is giving him a hard time about this.

“That’s my girl and that guy wasn’t listening.”

Nat lifts a pointed eyebrow at him, “Sounds familiar.”

Bradley forces out a breath. “That was different and you know it.”

“All I’m saying is I think she was making herself pretty clear, but you chose not to hear her and did what you wanted anyways.” His teeth clench together as a rock lands hard in his stomach. “And from the sound of it, she wanted to handle it her own way.”

“Yeah, but…” You’re his, he wants to say, but holds back at the risk of sounding like the jealous boyfriend Nat thinks he’s being. Except he wasn’t being jealous, he just wanted to protect you.

“No buts, Rooster. You fucked up.”

Nat has always been a straightshooter. It was one of the things he’s always appreciated most about her, that and her keen ability to read people. He trusted her judgement. And if she feels this way, even if he didn’t necessarily agree with it, then the chances are very high that you do too.

“Shit.”

“Yeah, ‘shit’. Now go fix it.” She pats his shoulder once, and then gives him a shove to the side door they’d seen you leave from.

It’s cooler outside.

The ocean breeze feels good on his hot, sticky skin. Bradley feels like he can breathe a little easier without all those people milling around him.

You’re not hard to spot. To anyone else you’d a solidary figure facing the ocean, but he’d know the shape of you anywhere.

From what Seresin said, Bradley had figured you’d be half way down the beach. He’d been planning just to follow the trail of steam to find you. But you’re still as a statue with your arms wrapped around yourself as you stare out at the inky waves.

The noise from the bar is muffled inside the walls of the Hard Deck, but still slips out from the windows that are cracked open and follows him as he walks towards you. The sand shifts beneath his shoes with every step he takes. The tunes from Penny’s jukebox get carried away on the wind and are replaced with the gentle roar of the waves as he approaches you.

The days are getting longer and dusk is rolling in. The sun is hanging low in the sky. Not quite set, but well on its way. He’d love nothing more than to pull you into his lap in one of the Adirondack chairs to watch the last glimmering moments of golden hour with you in his arms. But knows that’s probably not in the cards for tonight.

The two of you have had fights before. Usually over stupid, inconsequential things. Arguing with you feels different now than when it did when you were just friends. Now that you’re his girlfriend, it feels like there’s more at stake. He knew he’d never forgive himself if he fumbled the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Bradley wants to skip over this part to where the two of you are back on the same page. He wants to skip to the part where he gets to see your dimples and hear you laugh.

He stops just a few feet behind you. He knows you know he’s there, in that uncanny way you’ve always been able to sense him. The minutes tick by as he stands there and waits for you to acknowledge him. Or to turn around and shoot him that withering glare of yours. He’d take anything other than your silence.

But you don’t.

You give him nothing, which is almost worse.

It feels like a standoff.

He folds first.

“Sweet girl,” Bradley says, with a resigned sigh.

He doesn’t miss the way your whole body tenses at the sound of his voice.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Rooster.”

The way you say his callsign lands like a punch in the gut.

You’re only standing a few feet away from him, but it feels like the two of you are miles apart.

“C’mon, kid, that asshole is gone now. Come back inside.”

“Seriously?” you laugh bitterly, still refusing to look at him. “You’re seriously going to ignore me right now too? I said I don’t want to talk right now.”

He feels his jaw tick. “Look, I’m sorry,” he starts, still not feeling sorry in the least, “But-”

You put a hand up and whirl on him, shaking your head in disbelief. The thunderous look on your face would have a lesser man taking a step back, instead Bradley steels his spine and digs his feet into the sand.

“I really don’t want to hear it. I don’t think I’ve ever been this mad at you,” you fume. “Not even in high school when you got in that stupid fucking fight at that Homecoming party when I had to take you to the hospital.”

He presses his lips together firmly. There was a time and place for a conversation about that night, the one where he’d earned the scars on his face, but it wasn’t here and now. It was a secret he’d kept to himself for nearly two decades, the only other person who’d known the full story was his mom. But telling you about it now would only make things worse.

You continue, like a freight train without brakes, “And you’d been drunk then. Not that that excuses anything. But you’ve had, what? Two beers tonight?” When you lift your eyebrows at him expectantly, he nods curtly in confirmation. “So tell me what the hell just happened in there?”

He swears that sharp flash of your eyes could cut glass. A lick of heat bursts behind his sternum. Hot and fierce.

“He wasn’t backing off,” Bradley grits out, trying to summon the patience he doesn’t have. “What was I supposed to do? Give him a pat on the back and let him keep hitting on my girlfriend?” You scoff and he feels his pulse kick up in his throat. “I have always had your back, and I will always have your back.”

Bradley doesn’t understand why you don’t seem to understand that he’d do anything for you. He’s been looking out for you since your bike handlebars had iridescent tassels streaming from them, and if he has his way he’ll be looking out for you until his number is up.

“But that’s the thing, Rooster! You didn’t have my back in there,” you argue, stepping forward so you’re toe to toe with him. Your use of his callsign again chafes against his ears like sandpaper. “All you did was manhandle me out of the way to get at him and throw fists. I mean, Mav and Hondo would have let it slide if they’d been there to see that. But what about Cyclone? Would he? Why would you put your career at risk like that? What were you even thinking?”

You’re looking at him like you don’t know him, and he hates it. Because you’re the person who knows him best.

He runs a hand through his hair in agitation. He’s been trying to tame his temper, that caged animal that paced within the confines of the ribs in his chest. But his anger and frustration has been feeding off of yours, meeting it measure for measure.

“I wasn’t. I wasn’t thinking,” Bradley explodes, flinging his arms out to the side. “I’m not going to stop and make a damn pros and cons list while I watch some asshole being disrespectful and getting physical with you. It’s not going to happen, kid.”

“And I told you that I had it handled!” you exclaim.

The sound of the waves gets lost in the way both of your voices are raising with each and every parry in the verbal fencing match you’ve found yourselves in. This has escalated quicker than he ever could have expected, and all he wants is to find himself back on the same page with you.

“How am I the bad guy in all of this right now?”

“Don’t you get it? I’m not mad about you wanting you to be there for me, I’m mad about how you went about it. You literally pushed me out of the way and passed off to Jake, like my voice and feelings in that moment didn’t matter to you. Like you didn’t care about what I wanted. You have never treated me like that before.”

Guilt makes his stomach churn.

“You and I both know that’s not true,” he replies. It’s an uncomfortable truth.

That dark period after his mom died and how he’d treated you still haunted him sometimes. When he’d try to set fire to all the bridges around him, including his friendship with you. He hadn’t been worth knowing back then, but you’d never given up on him. He remembers it like it was yesterday, he’s never forgotten it. On the nights he couldn’t sleep, it was one of the many things that played out behind his eyelids like a highlight reel of all his worst moments.

Your eyebrows pinch together in confusion. He sees the moment it clicks for you because the fire that had been blazing behind those eyes he knows so well transforms into something softer. Something sadder.

“Bradley, I’m not going to hold onto something from when you were eighteen and hurting and heartbroken.” Your voice catches with emotion. “But tonight? Tonight, you made me feel small. And you’re the very last person I thought who’d ever make me feel that way.”

He can’t even enjoy hearing you say his name again, because you look so disappointed in him. The two of you stand there staring at each other, searching each other’s eyes as the waves rolling in along the shore fill the silence.

The way your lower lip wobbles steals the fight right out of him. All that righteous indignation that had been whirling in his chest is gone quicker than it came over him at the sight of the tears welling up along your lower lash line.

He’d let you down back then. And he’d let you down tonight too. He feels like he’s broken a promise to you, one he’d made with himself a longtime ago. Bradley wants to be the man whose shoulders you could lean on, the one you trusted to bet there to support you. He never thought he’d be the guy who makes you cry.

Bradley says your name tenderly. Every single letter of it is precious to him because you’re the most important person in the world to him.

The single tear that escapes the corner of your eye and rolls down your face cracks his chest wide open.

He holds out his hand for you, but you half-heartedly bat it away.

“No, I’m still mad at you,” you say, feebly. It’s unconvincing at best.

“You can be mad at me, kid,” Bradley murmurs, “But just let me hold you.”

He needs to know that you’ll still let him. That you still want him.

Bradley reaches out for you again and this time you let him pull you into his chest. And when you thread your arms around his torso and hold him just as tight that knot in his stomach loosens. He rests his chin on your head and releases a sigh. With you in his arms, he feels like his feet are finally back on solid ground.

He knows he owes you an apology, a real one this time. He knows that he’s fucked up, he understands where he went wrong. But he can’t shake the feeling that he feels like he’s missing something, that there’s another reason playing into why you’re so upset.

Every one of your quiet sniffles twists the knife that’s lodged itself between his ribs just a bit more each time.

He doesn’t know how long the two of you stand there wrapped up in each other, as he runs his hand up and down your back. There’s more to discuss, but he doesn’t rush you. He’ll hold you for as long as you need him to.

When you pull away, only far enough to look up at him, he takes the opportunity to gently cup your face in his hands. His thumb skims along the line of your jaw, your eyes are still watery.

“Sweet girl, why are you crying? I know you. Why does it feel like there’s more to this than just me being an idiot?” he asks, quietly. It still feels so fragile between the two of you.

“Because I l-like you so much. And I know you meant well, but I hated what happened tonight.” You wipe angrily at the fresh tears that streak down your face, like you’re irritated at them for them falling without your permission. “My ex used to pull that kind of bullshit all the time and I always hated the way it made me feel.”

His hands fall from your face.

Your confession surprises him. “Jack?” Bradley asks, his eyebrows pulling together. You nod. “I thought you said he was fine? That the break up was mutual because things got stale between the two of you.”

It’s times like this where he’s reminded of just how much distance there between the two of you over the last decade before you moved to San Diego. Of how much of you he’s missed out on. All the little moments that made up someone’s life. There was only so much an email, or a text, or a call could do.

You sigh, heavily. “I’m realizing now that there were a lot of things I put up with Jack because I didn’t want to rock the boat.”

Bradley’s fingers flex involuntarily where his hands are resting your hips. He doesn’t know what to make of that admission.

“You got to give me more than that to work with, kid. Help me to understand.”

You run you hand along his forearm soothingly, like you can sense his unease. He slides his thumbs through the loops of your jeans, fixing himself to you.

“Jack was really good about wanting to show everyone that he was a good boyfriend. And he was- for a while.” You pause, pressing your lips together. “But there were a few times where we’d go out and he’d make a scene, like what happened tonight. Except instead of someone being an actual asshole, it’d be someone who’d started up some polite small talk with me as we waited in line. And it always became a bigger thing than it needed to be. Then afterwards, he’d make it seem like he was defending my honor or something, even though he knew I didn’t like the kind of attention and all the looks that came with it afterwards. But Jack was always about Jack, and he liked the hero edit his friends would give him.”

You look away from him towards the ocean, the sunset paints you golden. Bradley knows you’re collecting your thoughts, so he waits. When you’re ready, you turn back towards him. There’s a different kind of hurt reflected in your eyes, one that tells him tonight has opened up old wounds for you.

“He’d say all the right things around other people, but when it was just the two of us alone, I never got that side of him. At the time I believed he was saying them because he meant them, but I can see now that he never really showed me that he meant them. I took his words at face value and settled for them.”

You give him a self-conscious shrug. Like you’re embarrassed. But your big heart was one of the things he loved most about you, and he hated the idea that someone had been careless with it before it made it into his safekeeping.

Bradley swallows hard. That tonight reminded you of the low points in your past relationship is hard for him to hear. And knowing why, makes it even worse.

“I think, more than anything,” you continue, your voice much quieter now, “I’m just mad that I let myself get lost in that for so long. Like I knew I needed more and that I wanted more, but I kept putting him ahead of myself when he wasn’t doing that for me.”

You thread your fingers between his and squeeze them lightly. He squeezes yours back.

“But you, Bradley, say the right things and mean them. You show me how important I am to you, with or without an audience. No one has ever made me feel as special as you do. Like, you don’t buy me red roses because you think you should-”

“Wait,” he doesn’t mean to cut you off, but his mind has snagged on a critical detail, “I thought your favorite flowers were tulips?”

A soft smile coasts over your pretty face. “They are.” He loves the warm way you’re looking at him right now, tender and fond. “And that’s what I’m talking about. You show me all the ways you know me because you care about me and want to make me happy. You don’t treat me like I’m an accessory in your life. I mean, I didn’t feel like I could even hang art on the walls of the apartment I paid half the rent for without Jack having an opinion on it. And here you are letting me bring over kitchen towels and plants for you, and we don’t even live together yet.”

Yet. Such a small word, but it means so much to know that you’re envisioning the same future with him that he sees with you.

“I like that you do that. I want you to do that. I appreciate the way you show me you’re thinking about me too.” Bradley runs his thumbs over the back of your hands. “Although, I’d rather be the one buying them,” he says, only partly teasing.

You made his house feel like a home. He hadn’t had that in so long. He wanted you to have things there in his condo that you also liked and made you happy because he wanted you to stay. He couldn’t wait for the day the two of you shared one address instead of two.

“Does that mean I should return the throw pillows I found for you?” He spots a wink of your dimples. “They’re soft, but firm enough that you won’t hurt your neck when you inevitably fall asleep on the couch even though you claim you’re just ‘resting your eyes’.” He never wants you to stop teasing him.

“No,” Bradley chuckles. “They sound perfect, but you’re going to let me Venmo you for them.”

“Ok, fine,” you agree. Almost reluctantly.

God, he loves you.

He leans in to kiss you. Once. Twice. Soft, sweet.

Bradley lets go of one of your hands to settle on your lower back and press you closer to him, until there’s no space between your two bodies. And brings the other one, with your fingers still tangled with his up against his chest. Before resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m so sorry I made you feel like that tonight.”

“Thank you, I forgive you.” You set the hand not entwined with his on the side of his face, your thumb sweeps across his cheek. “But I need you to hear me when I say that I can hold my own just fine, Bradley. I know you want to have my back and look out for me, but please, just not like that. Even if your heart is in the right place, ok?”

He nods. “I hear you, sweet girl. It’s not going to happen again. I promise.” He turns his head and presses a kiss to your palm. And then lifts the one still in his up to his lips, and drops a kiss to the back it.

“Plus, you taught me how to throw a punch, remember? I’m pretty sure I broke a guy’s nose one time,” you grin.

“Atta girl,” he says with pride. It’s so much lighter between the two of you now. He takes a couple step back, letting go of you and giving you a not-so-subtle onceover. “Ok, hot shot, show me what you got.” Beckoning you over with both hands.

“I’m not going to punch you, Bradley.”

“C’mon, kid, show me how it’s done.”

You shake your head at him in amused disbelief. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“No ma’am.” He taps his finger on his abs. “Let’s see it.”

You roll your eyes at him fondly. Then you hook your thumb over the top of your fist, just like he showed you all those years ago. And you ever so slowly, ever so gently press your perfectly aligned fist into his stomach. It could hardly even be considered a graze.

He doubles over with an overexaggerated oof and then tilts his head up at you and winks with a smile.

“You’re ridiculous.” The sound of your laugh fills his lungs.

It’s the same sound when he’d toss you into the pool when you were twelve. It’s the same sound when he’d spin you on the big tire swing when you were fourteen. It’s the same sound when he twirled you around the dance floor when you were nineteen at your mom’s second wedding.

There’s not just a glimmer of your dimples anymore, the full force of them hits him right in the chest.

“Speaking of punching,” Bradley says, straightening back up. “Hangman thinks I’m punching up.”

“Oh, does he? Interesting,” you hum. Your eyes shine in amusement.

He grins. “He’s not wrong. You’re way out of my league.”

You softly shake your head at him. “I’m just right for you. And you’re just right for me.”

He couldn’t agree more, but you don’t give him the chance too because you’re threading your arms around his neck and pulling his mouth to yours. With you in his arms and his lips on yours, he feels whole. You weren’t just right for him, you were perfect for him. And he’d never stop trying to be the perfectly right man for you.

No one’s ever had him, not like the way you do.

You’d always had a special place in his heart, but now the whole thing belonged to you. It was yours for the taking. He knew it would be in good hands with you, and he wasn’t going to stop proving to you that he was the one to be trusted with yours.

“Do you want me to take you home or do you want to go back inside?” He asks against your lips.

You kiss him again. “Let’s go back,” you say, wrapping your arm around his waist. “You owe me a dance, you know.”

He drops an arm over your shoulder. “I do?”

“You do.”

“Well then, lead the way, sweet girl.”

After he twirls you around on the crowded makeshift dancefloor of the Hard Deck, you let him take you home. Where he apologizes to you again, but this time on his knees with your thigh thrown over his shoulder. And twice more in your bed for good measure.

But not before he got his teeth on that little bow of yours.

He never stood a chance against it.

𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

Bradley is about to line up his next shot at the pool table when Jake saddles up and nudges his shoulder.

“Looks like your girl has an admirer.” Hangman points with his beer bottle, directing Bradley’s gaze to the bar where someone is chatting you up.

He recognizes him from the most recent batch of Top Gun students. To call him overconfident would be an understatement. The guy is clearly as full of himself on the ground as he is in the sky, based on his body language as he monologues to you, all puffed up chest and cocky smiles.

If the guy had any common sense, he’d see that you look like you’d rather be anywhere else. It’s written all over your face.

“So it seems,” Bradley agrees, rests a hip against the table.

He’d noticed the guy checking you out. But it was pretty ballsy of the aviator to be leaning into you the way that he is, considering the two of you had arrived together and that Bradley had been the one tasked with doing some demonstration trainings with them earlier in the week.

The man makes some big gestures with his hands, he’s clearly reached the part of his story that’s meant to impress you. Bradley chuckles to himself when he sees the less than subtle roll of your eyes.

“Are you going to go all Rocky Balboa on his ass?” Jake asks with a knowing smirk.

You must feel their eyes on you, because you glance over in their direction.

He knows you can handle yourself, but he’ll be there if you want him to be.

Bradley lifts his eyebrow in a silent question. You give him a slight shake of your head and he nods.

“Nah, she’s got it.”

He sees the moment the guy fucks up and oversteps, because your eyebrows shoot up. You’re his sweet girl, but he knows the other guy is in for it when look that promises the best kind of trouble settles over your face.

His favorite menace.

Bradley watches on as you lean over the counter and ring the bell with enthusiasm.

A cheer goes up throughout the bar. He brings his fingers up to his lips and lets out a loud whistle.

You look rightfully smug as Penny points out the wooden sigh strung up between the beer taps to the confused Top Gun student whose bank account will be hurting in the morning.

“Damn. I forgot the kid is a straight hustler,” Jake says, clearly impressed.

“She sure is,” Bradley grins, still looking at you, “It’s a good thing she likes you or you’d be screwed.” He pats Jake’s shoulder reassuringly, before pressing the cue into his hands.

You return a few minutes later, with a tray of frothy, freshly poured beers for everyone wearing an all-to-pleased grin that lights up the whole bar.

He waits until the beers are safely on the table before threading a finger through your beltloop and tugging him to you.

“That’s my girl.”

Bradley tilts your face up for a kiss. It’s not his best work, you’re making it difficult for him since you’re too busy smiling.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Disclaimer: my writing playlist included Cassandra, The Prophecy, and Castles Crumbling. So legally I cannot be held accountable for any angst hangovers.

Thank you for reading!

If you want to see what happens next for these two, click here!

You can read more of my stories here!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader #rooster top gun

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simpforrooster · 11 months ago

Text

actually, it’s captain.

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x f!reader

summary: request for @kpopgirlbtssvt. rooster’s girl is hit on by Top Gun students.

t/w: touch her, you d i e trope. cursing. mentions of alcohol.

Rooster leans against the bar, laughing at something Penny tells him. His jeans hang low on his hips, and he’s wearing the Hawaiian shirt you bought him for his birthday.

Rooster’s hand slaps the bar as he continues to howl. Penny and Mav exchange a look. Maverick murmurs something to Penny. Your guess would be “it wasn’t that funny.”

You throw back the rest of your drink. As your glass returns to the table, a group of men circle you, all clad in khaki. Must be new Top Gun recruits.

“What’s a pretty little gal like you sittin’ here alone for?” one of them asks you, his accent very similar to Hangman’s.

“Mind if we join ya?” the second asks. Before you can reply, two of the slide in across from you, while the one who spoke first sits next to you. His burly arm comes up around your shoulder. You stiffen under him, feeling small.

And not in the way you feel with Rooster. He makes you feel small, protected, but also empowered. This guy has a hold on you like he’s claiming you. Telling every other guy in the bar he plans on taking you home.

“This here’s Crane and Sorry,” he points to the two in front of you. “And you can call me Pleasure. As in, it’s a pleasure to meet you. As in, the way all ladies feel after a night with me.” He winks. He actually winks.

Your brain is so shocked, you can’t form words. You should take this guy’s arm and bend it behind your back, the way your dad taught you. You should give him on of your grade-a verbal lashings.

But you don’t. The sheer audacity of this man has you frozen.

You try to make eye contact with Rooster, but Pleasure’s frame blocks your view.

“Get your hands off my girlfriend, asshole.” Rooster’s voice makes a relieved breath come from your mouth. His tone of voice would make anyone run for the hills, but it leaves you full of wanting.

Pleasure chuckles, meeting Rooster’s gaze. “Actually, it’s Lieutenant.”

Crane and Sorry exchange an amused look. Rooster’s face is set in a hard line. He reaches for Pleasure’s bicep, ripping him from the booth.

“I said to get your hands off my girlfriend, asshole.” Rooster is a whole head taller than the aviator that just had himself draped on you.

“Shouldn’t leave your girl all alone, dick.” Pleasure tells him, bowing up. Rooster’s mouth pulls up on the left, giving him one of his infamous cocky smirks. Second only to Hangman’s.

“Actually, it’s Captain. And I hope to God you’re in one of my classes. Lieutenant.”

At this, you see Pleasure audibly gulp, knowing he’s fucked up. Rooster still has a death grip on his arm.

“Come on, man. Make my day,” the words come out laced with venom.

Before things can get out of hand, you hop out of the booth and high tail it to Penny. Quickly giving her a synopsis, she rings the bell, signaling these guys need to be thrown out. Hangman, Omaha, and Coyote each grab one of the guys and drag them to the exit.

Rooster joins you at the bar, taking your face in his hands. Those brown eyes roam over you, searching.

Your hands come up to cradle his face, “Roos, I’m fine.”

“When I saw him draped over you, I saw red. Nobody touches my girl.” He leans down to place a kiss against your temple. Rooster’s words have your toes curling in your shoes. You’ve never seen this side of him.

You lower your hands to his shoulders, threading one of them in his curly hair that’s definitely longer than Military regulation.

“You’re the only one I want touching me,” you murmur in his ear, your face flushing.

“Yeah?” he murmurs back.

Not trusting your voice to not come out completely needy, you nod.

“Come on, guys. Quit being disgusting,” Maverick says to the two of you, feigning gagging.

Penny pops his hand over the bar, eliciting a laugh from him.

Rooster ignores him, placing a deep kiss onto your mouth.

“Take me home, baby,” you say, taking in those brown eyes.

“I don’t know, pretty girl, I don’t think I can get further than the Bronco,” he winks.

masterlist.

#top gun maverick #top gun #top gun maverick fic #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x y/n #rooster x reader #rooster fluff #rooster imagine #rooster x oc #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw

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tongue-like-a-razor · 8 months ago

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Hotter Than Texas | Part I

(unofficially: Brother's Worst Enemy)

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

Alrighty y'all, this is for everyone who has so patiently waited for me to make this a thing XD Not sure if I could squeeze a whole series out of this one but we shall see. Maybe at least a part 2. Enjoy!

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw is tasked with transporting a not-so-delicate package in the form of Jake Seresin's baby sister, who turns out to be Bradley's dream girl worst nightmare.

Aka it's a road trip, strap in.

CW: swearing, age gap (10 years)

The mission is simple. Collect Seresin Junior from the train station near the main gate of the base and deliver said cargo to the Seresin homestead in Eastern Texas on his way to Atlanta, Georgia for a long overdue visit with his grandparents. It isn’t rocket science. It sure as hell doesn’t hold a candle to the canyon run he pulled off just the other month. And yet, Bradley’s drumming his fingers anxiously on the hood of his Bronco as he leans into its frame, waiting on the trolley from downtown San Diego.

While Jake and Bradley have recently made peace after their longstanding cold war, Bradley isn’t exactly thrilled to meet another one of his kind. Besides, he isn’t one for small talk, and the prospect of spending the next two days with a complete stranger is downright daunting. He prefers music to conversation and he’s hoping that his road trip companion won’t be offended when he turns up the radio and forgets there’s anybody else in the car.

When Hangman had asked for the favor, he assured Bradley that he was his last choice – which wasn’t exactly a compliment, but Bradley appreciated the gesture, nonetheless. By the end of the term, there was nobody from their squadron left on base except Bradley, and he would be heading east anyway, might as well provide shuttle service while he’s at it.

As the trolley whistles into the station, Bradley pushes off his car and straightens his back, watching the tinted windows as they zip by, a blur at first and then gradually separating as the trolley comes to a stop.

Bradley leaves his car to walk around the fence, not quite sure how he’s going to be greeting a person he’s never before seen, but it’s not like he’s going to fashion a sign for the occasion. He sticks his hands into his pockets, the breeze picking up his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt like a parachute before it starts whipping around his torso in the wind tunnel on the platform.

He glances around at the commuters stepping off the trolley, trying to pick out the blondes that might resemble his colleague, when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns his head, just as you say, “Rooster, right?”

He blinks at you, slightly disoriented. You look nothing like Hangman, thank fuck, because Bradley can’t take his eyes off you and, as inappropriate as this reaction is, it would make it that much worse if you did. He gives you a sideways grin. “What gave me away?” he says.

“My brother told me to find the dorkiest guy at the station,” you respond, grinning at him.

Bradley chuckles. “So, you’re walking to Texas, then,” he says, stepping around you.

You laugh, struggling to redirect the wheels of your suitcase.

Bradley bends down to grab the handle. “I can take that,” he says, tucking away the retractable bar and lifting it off the ground by the strap.

“Thanks,” you say, cringing slightly as Bradley lifts the luggage as though you’re embarrassed by its weight.

But after the countless exercise drills over the years, Bradley hardly notices that it’s heavy. In fact, he could probably carry it over his head. He eyes you inconspicuously as you fall in step with him, wondering if perhaps that might impress you – not that he wants to impress you.

“Actually, he said I couldn’t miss you because you’d be a head taller than everyone else, and probably wearing a very bright shirt.”

Bradley looks over at you with a grin. “Hopefully I didn’t disappoint?”

You eye his shirt flapping in the breeze. “I found you, didn’t I?”

Bradley lifts your suitcase into the trunk of his car and walks around to open your door for you.

You give him a suspicious look. “Thanks,” you say.

Bradley nods at you, offering a hand to help you in. Once you’re seated, he shuts the door behind you and exhales unsteadily the kind of sigh that often accompanies a guilty conscience. There’s no way he could possibly get entangled in a mess of this magnitude. And a colossal mess it would become if he were to develop any sort of soft spot for his recent enemy’s baby sister. Bradley, being a sensible, mature adult, understands this unequivocally. But, when he rounds the car and climbs into the driver’s seat next to you, the notion that he’s not allowed under any circumstances to find you attractive flies right out his rolled down window.

This is because you’re already tuning the radio like you own the place and because you smell like a goddess. Bradley has no clue whether it’s your hair or your perfume or your goddamn essence that’s permeated his upholstery in under ten seconds, but whatever it is, he certainly wouldn’t mind smelling it on his sheets in the morning.

Fuck. He’s fucking fucked.

“This alright?” you ask casually, as if you didn’t just hijack a stranger’s radio.

He cringes at the stereo; he’ll have to work on your taste in music. “Got your seatbelt on?” he asks as he pulls out.

You turn around in your seat and pull on the seatbelt.

Bradley promptly hits the breaks and you lurch forward slightly, the seatbelt in your hand getting stuck on its way out. He looks over at you with an air of seriousness despite the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “The seatbelt should be the first thing you do when you enter a vehicle.” Not fiddle with the radio, he adds silently.

You raise your eyebrows at him in amusement. “Okay, dad.”

Bradley nearly shudders at your response. He’s probably a good ten years older than you, so, really, while dad might be stretching it, you’re not too far off. “Keep up that attitude and you’ll be listening to Metallica the whole way home.”

You smirk at him. “I like Metallica, so joke’s on you, bud.”

Bradley starts driving again. “If you like Metallica, then why are we listening to this trash?”

Your jaw drops and you reach for the volume dial to turn up the song. “How dare you?”

Bradley rolls his eyes. Something tells him he’s in for a wild ride.

…

About two hours later, Bradley pulls into a small gas station just past the border into Arizona.

“Want something to eat?” he asks, leaning across the console to pop his glove compartment and pull out his wallet. “Or drink?”

You purse your lips. “I could go for a coffee.”

“How do you like it?” he asks.

“With a pinch of salt.”

Bradley gapes at you. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

You snort. “I’m not joking. You should try it! Cuts the bitterness in half, my friend.”

Bradley cringes. “The bitterness is why I drink it.”

You shake your head and declare wisely, “You’ll see.”

“That you’re a nutcase?” Bradley mutters under his breath as he exits the car. He jogs over to the convenience store, determinedly blocking out the seductive quality of your persuasive tone. You could probably convince him to drink a pint of his own urine if you set your mind to it.

Bradley drums impatiently on the counter, waiting for the clerk to finish restocking one of the shelves with chips. While he’s waiting, he glances out to check on you as if you’re a child under his charge. You’ve stepped out of the Bronco to stretch your legs and Bradley doesn’t like the way the two guys in the convertible in behind are eyeing you.

Bradley cranes his neck to check on the clerk’s progress and lets out a stifled sigh. When he looks back outside, he sees that one of the men has approached you and, well, Bradley isn’t about to wait to see what happens next. He drops a bill on the counter and calls out, “Keep the change,” to the clerk before practically slamming his way through the doors with the coffees in his hands.

Why it bothers him that some random dude might want your number is not of consequence. What matters is that Bradley gets rid of this asswipe before you start enjoying his company.

He strides confidently past the man chatting you up and stops right in between you and him, handing you a coffee.

“Careful, it’s hot,” he cautions moodily, not entirely sure how to go about handling a situation in which, objectively speaking, he has no real authority.

You meet his gaze with a small smile. “You don’t say,” you respond with all the sultriness of a blazing, desert sun.

Bradley’s gaze remains unwaveringly on you as he unhooks a pair of Ray-Bans from the neck of his muscle shirt and slides them over his eyes. “Ready to go?” he asks in a level tone, hoping he can avoid what is bound to be an unpleasant interaction with the man still standing behind him.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” the man speaks up. “Didn’t realize you were with someone, honey.”

Bradley keeps his eyes on yours for several moments longer, trying his best not to show the irritation he feels at the way this rando just called you ‘honey’. Reluctantly, he turns to face him, wondering what in the world he could say that wouldn’t make him sound jealous as fuck.

But before Bradley could speak, you slide casually into his side, leaning on him like it’s the most natural thing. “That’s just fine,” you say to the man. “No harm, no foul.”

Bradley looks down at your head as it nestles into his shoulder and then lifts his arm to let you move in closer. Trying to play it cool, he skims the tips of his fingers across your lower back, which is warm and feels like the perfect place to rest his hand.

Convertible guy promptly departs, and Bradley is left standing in an embrace with the one person on the entire planet for whom he should never catch feelings, at a derelict gas station on the outskirts of arid Yuma, Arizona, and the heat is really starting to get to him. Slowly, you start to peel yourself away and Bradley, sensing your withdrawal, drops his hand and recoils from you like you’ve burnt him.

Did it feel nice pretending you were his girl? Sure did. Is he going to erase it from his memory and never let himself so much as shake your hand again? Absolutely.

Read Part 2

Tag List

I’ll be tagging the rest in the comments probably tomorrow!

@joaquinwhorres

@katiemcrae

@sehnsuchts-trunken

@toomuchfluffs

@wintercap89

@lonelywitchv2

@callsign-jupiter

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@SometimesAnAlice

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@adaydreamaway08

@mattyskies

@desert-fern

@catsandbooksandstuff

@Topguncultleader

@avengers-fixation

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promisingyounglady · 8 months ago

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stranger. | BB x Reader

SYNOPSIS: drunk hookup, no names exchanged, bradley is a pussy eating king.

PAIRING: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

You pant, breathing heavily

“W-What’s your name again?”

A head pops up from in between your legs, giving you a sight that makes you delirious from the sheer sexiness of it all.

He’s golden, the warm light from the bedside table lamp, casting a glow on his pink cheeks. Dog tags hang from his collar bones.

He’s got pretty eyes, a strong nose and a shit-eating grin covered by a mustache that’s dripping in your slick.

You hadn’t even had time to even exchange names, only knowing that you were mutual friends of Jake who met at tonight’s party. One too many shots later and you’re here getting eaten out by a fighter pilot you don’t even know the name of.

He comes forward, leaning into your breath as he mutters softly. “Bradley. Bradshaw.”

You moan, feeling how his hands slide up your body as he utters his name, embarrassingly squirming under his touch.

“Say it back” He requests, deep brown eyes gazing into yours.

You oblige, moaning his name in a breathless whisper.

“Bradley”

He smiles, kissing you to shut you up before he goes down back in between your legs, pecks littered against the flesh of your inner thighs.

“Say my name and then ask me to eat you out”

You almost can’t believe your ears. You look down, gripping the sheets as you stare the smug bastard down.

“Nicely” he adds, pressing a kiss to your puffy clit as he smirks.

You throw your head back, eyes shutting as you mumble embarrassingly. “Eat me bradley”

His hands roam to your tits, giving them a squeeze

“Louder” he replies, muffled as he’s concentrated in stuffing his face in your vagina, choosing to give small unsatisfying licks until you say it properly.

You cry out, chest rising. “Eat me out, Bradley” you grit, moaning when he finally swipes his nose along your pussy, giving you what you want.

“I don’t like you.” you huff, glaring at the head of hair you’re running your hands through.

You feel him smile against your mound, coming up to snarkily change the topic.

“What’s your name?”

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topgun-imagines · 1 year ago

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Say My Name

Requested: no

Summary: You find out just how big Bradley is. He really does live up to his call sign.

Word count: 3.4k

Note: banner by @lewmagoo

Warnings: smut, oral sex (f!recieving), fingering, anal fingering, size kink, overstimulation, unprotected sex, cum play. Please let me know if I missed anything!

Pairings: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x fem!reader

The air in the bedroom was filled with tension. You were on your third glass of wine and Bradley had just begun pouring his second. Nerves surged through you. Tonight, you were planning on having your first time with Bradley. While the two of you had been dating for nearly seven months, you had yet to sleep together. The thought had you nervously fiddling with the hem of your short skirt.

Bradley had made the two of you a nice dinner before leading you to his bedroom. Despite how much you wanted this, you couldn’t settle the butterflies in your stomach. Sure, you had slept with others before Bradley. However, given the things that you had heard about him from his fellow pilots, you felt more nervous than usual as you stared at the gold chain he was wearing. You had done some sexual stuff with the pilot before, but you had yet to see what he was packing. Honestly, that was what had you the most nervous.

No matter how hard you tried to ignore the teasing from the rest of his squadron about his size, you simply couldn’t. Not when Jake kept making crude remarks about his callsign having some sort of double meaning and teasing you about what he saw in the locker rooms. You could never get away from it. Now, you couldn’t help but find yourself staring at the bulge straining in his jeans.

His deep chuckle was what broke you out of your trance. “See something you like, Princess?” There was a teasing lilt to his voice. You blushed deeply, sipping the last drop of wine from your glass. “C’mere.” He rasped. Instantly, you obeyed, crawling into his lap and straddling his thick thighs. His glass was set on the nightstand before his hands came to sit on the tops of your thighs.

The tickle of his mustache as he peppered kisses across your neck had you squirming in his lap. You clenched around nothing at the guttural groan he let out. From where you were sitting right now, you could tell he was big. Moaning quietly, you nearly melted when Bradley gripped your hips and pulled you down closer to his growing bulge.

“Bradley,” You moaned out with barely concealed need. Another grunt was released into your neck. “Fuck,” Panting with your head tossed back, the feeling of Bradley’s lips travelling down your chest had you shivering. “I need you. Please.” It was the neediest sound you had ever made in your life.

Time seemed to stand still as Bradley lifted you off his lap. You whined at the loss of warmth before laid you down on the bed and crawled on top of you. Cooing quietly at your pitiful whine, the pilot smirked at your frantic state. As Bradley continued to kiss down your neck, your chest was rising and falling quickly. “I’m gonna make you feel real good, baby girl.” His words were a promise; one that you knew he would make good on.

Your blouse was slowly unbuttoned as Bradley peppered kisses across your soft skin. When he finally reached the last button, you were out of breath, panting loudly. Now, you were left in nothing but your lacy bra and short skirt. Unbeknownst to Bradley, you had nothing on under that skirt. Feeling Braldey’s mustache tickling the sensitive skin of your stomach had you wanting to giggle. But the pleasurable warmth in your core had you moaning out instead.

Next, Bradley began massaging your thighs, shimmying further down the bed until he was level with your thighs. You breathed in deeply, nerves rearing their ugly head again. Ever so slowly, Bradley reached under you and pulled the zipper of your short skirt down. It took every fibre of your being to focus your breathing. Bradley had eaten you out before, but knowing what would be coming after had you shaking.

Your legs parted enough so that Bradley could slot in between them, knees bending and feet planted firmly on the cool sheets. Before you even realized what was happening, Bradley had your legs tossed over your shoulder and he was softly nipping the sensitive insides of your thighs. When Bradley lifted his head, he was met with the sight of your bare, puffy cunt. He groaned loudly, his cock managing to harden even more in his tight jeans.

Seconds later you were met with the feeling of Bradley’s tongue running over your slit delicately. Instantly, a sharp cry escaped you. Tangling your fingers in your boyfriend's curly hair, you tugged when his lips sealed around your clit. The feeling had you arching off the bed, your heels digging into the pilot’s back.

For the next few minutes, the only sounds that could be heard in the room were your loud, wanton moans and the lewd sounds coming from between your legs. Bradley’s tongue was now prodding against your entrance, teasing you relentlessly. You found it hard to breathe as cry after cry escaped you. Slowly, your high began building. When two of your boyfriend’s thick fingers pushed meticulously inside your weeping cunt, your back arched so hard off the bed, Bradley had to pause to make sure you were okay.

The grin on his face when he heard your needy whines was nothing short of devious. Without hesitation, he returned to sucking on your clit and working his fingers in and out of your slick entrance quickly. “Oh!” You cried out from the delicious

Bradley was relentless. His thick fingers stretched you open deliciously, making a scissoring motion as he licked around your greedy hole. Your moans slowly grew higher and higher in pitch. Outside of your field of vision, Bradley brought his other hand up and between your legs. The sudden press of his thumb against your tight, puckered hole had you nearly screaming. “Oh, my god.” The words were slurred together. That familiar coil in the pit of your stomach was almost ready to snap.

The tip of his thumb suddenly slipped into your tight hole, creating a delicious pressure. More slick leaked from your slit. As Bradley’s fingers kept up their pace inside of your puffy cunt, the squelching sound got louder the wetter you got. There wasn’t a single coherent thought in your mind as Bradley’s thumb pushed further into your ass, his fingers stretched apart even further and his lips sealed around your clit. All at once, he sucked on your clit harshly, pressed his fingers into your sweet spot, and pressed his thumb in as far as possible.

You were so close. In a few seconds, you would be gushing around his fingers. “Bradley,” You panted, fingers gripping his brown locks like a lifeline. “Stop.” He froze instantly, eyes snapping up to meet yours. His fingers slowed until they stopped and his thumb moved to draw back. But when you whined at the sensation in your puckered hole, he stopped his movements altogether.

“Honey?” He started, rubbing your thigh softly and smearing your slick on your smooth skin in the process. “What’s wrong.?” It was whispered into the soft skin of your stomach The tickle of his mustache against your stomach had you giggling. Even though your core was clenching around nothing and you could still feel his finger moving slowly inside your ass. Regardless of the worry bubbling in his chest, Bradley smiled at the sound of your laughter.

You offered him a blissed-out smile, moaning softly at the movements of his thumb. “Nothin’,” At those words, Bradley slipped his fingers back inside of your dripping cunt. You were so wet that there was zero friction as he pushed them in until the second knuckle. You were instantly whiny again. “Wait,” You tried again. This time, Bradley only slowed his ministrations. “I wanna come on your cock.” The widest grin you had ever seen broke out on your boyfriend's face.

Teasingly, he leaned down and allowed his tongue to flick over your clit. A chuckle escaped him. You had no idea what you were in for. “Honey,” There was a teasing lilt to his voice. “You’re gonna need at least two before I even think about letting you cum on my cock.” His words caused you to let out a shuddering breath. Sure, you knew that he was big. After all, you couldn’t go anywhere without someone reminding you of that fact. But his words caused you to wonder just how big he was.

Before you could snark back, his thumb pushed in as far as it could and his lips sealed around your clit. Crying out again, your heels dug further into Bradley’s back and you pulled so hard on his curly locks you thought that some of the hair would come out. Instead, he groaned and began slurping harder. Within seconds, you were gushing around his fingers, cuming so hard you could have sworn you saw stars.

As you were coming down, Bradley drew his thumb from your ass and pulled his sticky fingers from your core. Your cum slowly dripped down your opening. Once you were coherent again, your eyes slowly looked down at Bradley. He was transfixed on the sight between your thighs. The tip of his index finger slowly began to swirl through the creamy mess between your thighs. It dipped shallowly into your opening and scooped out some more of your cum.

The overstimulation was almost becoming too much for you. Now, Bradley’s finger was swirling your cum around your sensitive clit. Your whines were breathly, so much so that Bradley could hardly hear them. Nevertheless, he continued, drawing moan after moan from your parted and chapped lips.

Within minutes, you were right on the brink again. Feeling that delicious pressure building faster than ever, you shifted your hips until Bradley’s face was, quite literally, buried in your slick cunt. As you tipped over the edge for the second time in a matter of minutes, Bradley stared at your expression in awe.

Your legs were shaking. So much so that Bradley was almost convinced he went too far. But when your eyes fluttered open, Bradley could see the pure pleasure swimming in your eyes. “How was that, Honey?” There was a low timbre to his voice as the coarse hairs of his mustache rubbed against your smooth thighs. Your breathing was heavy and your fingers couldn’t stop twitching, but you had never felt better. So that was exactly what you told him.

“That was amazing,” You sat up, half expecting Bradley to push you back down and pull another orgasm from you. Crawling up your body, one of your boyfriend’s large hands rubbed at your side before grabbing your tit. A soft moan escaped you before you grinned up at the pilot. “But, I think you know that I want something else.” Your words were punctuated with a soft squeeze of his rock-hard cock.

The groan that he released was nearly primal. With one last passionate kiss pressed to your lips, he slowly, almost teasingly, unbuttoned his jeans. Then, he peeled his black boxers off his toned and muscular thighs. Your eyes were fixed between his legs, not blinking as you came face to face with his sheer size. “B-Bradley,” You stuttered, beginning to shake slightly. Snapping your eyes up to meet his, your boyfriend had a smug grin on his face. “There’s no way that that’s going to fit.”

The chuckle that escaped him was nearly mocking. “Yes, it will.” Those were the last words he spoke before he was leaning over you again. His hard cock rubbed into your thigh while he was sucking dark marks that contrasted against your unblemished skin into the side of your neck.

After a few minutes of nothing more than kissing softly, Bradley finally pulled back. His hands were warm as they rubbed softly over your sides, an attempt to soothe you that didn't go unnoticed. “Are you ready, baby?” Regardless of the fact that you couldn’t tame the nerves fluttering in your stomach, you nodded. With a smile, he kissed your forehead. Against your skin, he whispered that he was going to get a condom and the lube.

You stopped him. For the first time tonight, you felt one hundred percent prepared for what was about to happen. “No,” Bradley looked at you confused, wondering why you had changed your mind. Kneeling next to him, you placed one hand on his bare chest, stroking the tanned skin softly. Seductively, you whispered in his ear. “No condom. I wanna feel you.” You were on the pill, and you knew that both Bradley and yourself were clean.

His breathing seemed to stop and then there was a wide smile on his face. You squealed when he kissed you passionately, laying you down on the bed and leaving you breathless as he disappeared in search of lube. The sight of his bare backside walking away had you giggling dreamily. When he returned from the bathroom, you were met with the sight of his shockingly large cock between his legs. At that sight, you didn’t laugh as much.

For the next few seconds, you and Bradley were quiet. Soft touches were shared between the two of you before your boyfriend pulled back once more. His fingers dipped between your legs, checking to see just how wet you were. A soft moan escaped you as he swirled your slick around your clit. The next thing you knew, you could hear the cap of the lube snapping open. Suddenly, you felt the cold drop running down your slit. A hiss escaped you before Bradley slipped his fingers into you once more.

The next few minutes were spent with Bradley opening you up even further than you already were. You could feel that familiar pressure building once more. But, instead of Bradley leading you over that delicious edge, he stopped right as you were about to tip over. You groaned.

With a chuckle, Bradley slowly crawled up your body. “You ready, baby?” You could only nod, wanting nothing more than for Bradley to be seated inside of you. As he poured some more lube onto his hand, you got a sinister idea. The thought had you smirking. However, you were stopped in your tracks as you watched Bradley wrap his hand around his thick cock. His fingers couldn’t even touch.

For the first time tonight, you found yourself focusing on his cock. It was long, longer than you had seen before and curved toward the end. His tip was an angry red colour and as he stroked himself, you could see the pre-cum leaking down his shaft. Your eyes traced the vein that ran up the bottom before your eyes snapped up to your boyfriend’s. He had caught you red-handed.

Now, you decided to act on your plan. Before Bradley could realize what was happening, you had flipped him over and were straddling his thick thighs. He looked up at you in shock. With one hand, you gripped his cock and with the other you stabilized yourself against his chest. Biting your lip, your eyes locked with his as you began to stroke him. After a few seconds of building up your courage, you slowly sank down on him. Your warm and slick cunt sunk down onto his fat, mushroom tip with hardly any resistance.

Within the first few seconds, you were a moaning mess. There was less than two inches inside of you and you were already losing your mind. You couldn’t even begin to fathom taking the rest of him. Bradley could sense that you were struggling, so, your boyfriend’s hands gripped your hips. Slowly, he helped you sink down onto him. The breath rushed from your lungs in a matter of seconds. Now, you were just over halfway down Bradley’s cock and you felt like you were being split in half.

“That’s it, Princess,” He encouraged you as your greedy cunt swallowed another inch of him. “Doing so good.” With careful movements, he pulled you down until your head was resting on his chest, the steady sound of his heartbeat under your ear. Ever so slowly, Bradley pulled down your hips until they were flush with his. The second he was fully seated inside of you, you let out the most pornographic moan Bradley had ever heard.

One of his hands grabbed your ass and the other cradled the back of your head. The next few minutes were spent with Bradley simply letting you adjust to his size. His sheer girth had you whining quietly against his skin, sticky with sweat. After about four minutes, Bradley planted his feet and shifted slightly. That caused the tip of his cock to press right against your sweet spot. Once again, you couldn’t help but moan loudly.

Ever so slowly, your boyfriend began rocking into you. With each thrust, Bradley would only pull himself out a little bit, leaving the rest of his pulsing cock stuffed inside of you. Then he would push back in, filling you to the brim once more. The feeling of his mushroom tip hitting your spot over and over again had you seeing stars. “Say my name.” It was more of a command than a request.

“Fuck, Bradley!” You cried out, hips beginning to raise and fall of their own accord. He grunted hips smacking into yours as he fucked you.

You grunted, feet planted firmly against the bed as he pistoned his weeping cock into you. “No,” He taunted, slowing his thrusts until he was hardly moving. “Not that one.” The realization of what he wanted you to do was almost enough to make you cum.

“Oh my god,” You rushed out, fist forming as you curled into his chest further. “Rooster!” It was almost a scream. The way the words rushed out of you so fast, Bradley was almost concerned. Almost. “Rooster, please. Please fuck me.” At that, Bradley moaned. He had never heard such a sweet sound as you begging for him to fuck you. It was music to his ears.

Loud moans and grunts filled the room as Bradley began to thrust harder and deeper. Now you were clinging to him, puffy cunt stretched out more than you ever would have thought possible. Your boyfriend gripped your hips harshly, raising you up on his thick cock before slamming you down onto him. That sent a sharp cry out of you, your face turning until it was buried against his chest.

Suddenly, your whole body tensed. Bradley, once again, had slipped his thumb into your tight ring of muscle. The moan that you let out was nearly a scream. Feeling his thick cock in your dripping core and his thumb pushing into your ass sent you reeling. “Imagine what my cock would feel like in this tight, little ass of yours.” He punctuated his words with a hard thrust. His thumb slipped out of your ass seconds later. The fucked-out look on your face wasn’t going away anytime soon.

This pattern continued for the next few minutes until Bradley's thrusts began growing erratic. You were so, so close. All you needed was a little bit more and you would be falling into blissful pleasure. Bradley gave you that little bit more in mere seconds.

His thumb pressed hard against your clit, rubbing the small pearl in circular motions. You found yourself clenching around him with your eyes rolling back. There was an obscene amount of your sweet release leaking out around your boyfriend’s thick cock. He held you carefully as you slowly came down from your high.

Before you had time to recover, however, your boyfriend was pumping his cum into you, thick, white ropes painting your walls. You shuddered at the foreign feeling. Regardless of the other guys you had been with before, you had never let any of them do what you and Bradley just did. His cock was still throbbing inside you. The feeling almost had you cumming again.

Ever so slowly, Bradley lifted you off his softening cock. It had you whining and whimpering. You clenched around nothing, his cum starting to leak out of you. It dripped onto his lap as he pulled your hips up. You were breathless as he set your hips down on his thigh, your cunt clenching desperately at the pressure suddenly placed on your clit. His arms wound around your stomach, holding you tightly against his sweaty chest.

In less than five minutes, you were drifting off against his chest, feeling his warm cum still dripping out of your puffy and abused cunt. Needless to say, the next day, you were walking with a limp.

a/n: Thank you for reading! Requests are open :)

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 1 year ago

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Bumping Beach Bikini - Rooster

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw / Wife!Reader

Word Count: 0.8k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Pregnancy; References to Sex/Suggestive Jokes; Flirting; Use of Second Person POV “You,” No Physical Description of Reader (Minus Pregnancy), No Y/N

Summary: Rooster admires the view of his pregnant wife on the beach.

Master List

Bradley had a mental list of the best outfits that he had ever seen you in. There wasn’t a set ranking, just general levels of appreciation.

There was a step above your normal beauty and allure, which mostly included random casual outfits that for whatever reason just got him going. Like the yellow sundress that you wore when it was exceptionally hot out that was super easy to slide his hands under. Or those jean shorts that he loved to slip his hand into the back pocket and give your ass an appreciative squeeze. Or anything of his that you chose to wear.

And the step above those were your slightly dressier outfits that got him even more excited. The backless black dress that you wore out in Vegas when the two of you went out with the Dagger Squad. Or the blue floor length dress that you wore to Maverick and Penny’s wedding that looked like it was literally sculpted for you and your figure. Though he did rip the zipper on that one.

Then there were the more special outfits. Your wedding dress mostly, since he literally burst out into tears the second that he saw you step out in it. The photo of you that he kept in his cockpit was from your wedding day with your veil spread out around you, giving you a completely angelic appearance. And, well, Rooster was also very fond of the matching white lingerie set that you wore underneath it that night too. He did rip that one too though.

And at the very top of the pyramid of his favorite outfits was, of course, your birthday suit. Nothing would ever top that one.

But seeing you in a maternity bikini with one of his Hawaiian shirts wrapped around your shoulders and your baby bump sticking out from between the folds of his shirt—now that was a sight that he ingrained into his mind for the rest of his life. That one really challenged your birthday suit in his mind.

“What?” you laughed, shooting your husband a look as you applied more sunscreen. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re glowing,” Bradley praised, still taking in your beauty.

“With sweat,” you giggled, rubbing in another layer of sunscreen. “It’s only spring and I swear I’m melting already.” You set down the tube of sunscreen and shot your husband a playful look. “You just had to make sure that I was heavily pregnant during the hottest months of the year in Southern California, didn’t you, Bradshaw?”

“Maybe you should have done the math before you begged me to get you pregnant,” Bradley replied, a bit smugly.

“I don’t beg,” you scoffed, shooting him a look. “And besides you offered about fifty times before I let you. If anyone was begging, it was you, Bradley.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Rooster mused, smiling over at you.

There was one rule to surviving with a heavily pregnant wife—it was to let you win. On just about everything. Anything health or safety wise, he would argue back, but Rooster took a rain check on all of the little things. And frankly he got more satisfaction out of seeing you happy than being right.

“Do you have enough water?” Rooster asked, sitting up some more.

You reached over and lifted your giant water bottle into the air. Taking a long sip from it just to prove your point to your husband, you set your water bottle back down on the sand.

“I’m fine. Just need some time to relax,” you replied, leaning back in your seat. “Before it all really sets in.”

Reaching down to pick up your ankle, Rooster started to massage your foot, earning a sigh of relief from your lips. Practically melting into your chair, you turned to your husband with a small, thankful smile as you curled your toes a bit.

“I could get used to this.”

“I’m sure you could,” Rooster chuckled, rubbing the back of your calf.

“There’s only one thing that would make this better.”

“What?”

“Take your shirt off.”

“Mrs. Bradshaw,” Rooster jokingly admonished, causing you to smile wider. “Be careful suggesting that. I knocked up the last woman who asked me to take my shirt off in that tone.”

“I’ll take the risk,” you replied with a smile, rubbing your bump slowly.

“So long as you understand the risk,” Rooster returned with a wink.

“Jesus Christ, the rest of us are trying to eat here,” Phoenix cut in, sounding annoyed.

You and Rooster turned to the other Daggers, Maverick, and Penny, who was hiding an amused smile behind her hand. Maverick turned to Penny with a similar expression, shaking his head. But most of the other Daggers, those who were single anyways, shot both you and Rooster somewhat disgusted looks.

“Sorry,” you called sheepishly, waving to them.

“I’m not,” Rooster replied, reaching up to take his shirt off.

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vivwritesfics · 7 months ago

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Her Seat

Bradley's girl had her Seat. It was his lap.

Warnings: smut, nipple play, fingering, cockwarming, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, cum eating, unprotected sex, she is Bradley's pillow princess, marking

The movie was playing, but neither of them were paying much attention. Bradley's attention was focused on her. He held her, his large hands holding her ass as he stared at her.

Sat on his lap, she wrapped her arms around his neck and played with the short hairs at the back of his neck.

The movie, something front the 90's, was long forgotten as he touched her. His hands were warm against her ass and he slipped his hands beneath her gym shorts.

A smile played on his lips, his moustache twitching up ever so slightly.

She looked so perfect sitting on him, her smaller frame on his larger one. They were chest to and Bradley leaned forward to kiss her, his large hands squeezing the flesh of her ass.

She knew why he was called Rooster, could feel why he was called Rooster pressed against her gym shorts. She moved against it and he gripped her tighter, stilling her.

Bradley was in charge and she loved it.

He pulled down her gym shorts and dropped them onto the floor, leaving her in her shirt, one of Bradley's, and her underwear. His hands returned to her ass, fingers slipping between the waistband of her panties.

"No bra?" He asked as she pressed her forehead to his.

She shook her head. "No bra," he confirmed, pulling her chest away from his own. He could see her nipples now, but it was a wonder he didn't feel them before.

"I love you," he said, capturing her lips with his own before she could answer. His hands travelled up under her shirt, calloused fingers rough against her back.

She arched her back towards him and let out a whine. Anything Bradley did was enough to get her whining for him. Just his skin against her own was enough.

Bradley was like nobody she had ever been with before. When it came to sex, she was his priority. He didn't care how long it took, he'd have her cumming on his face and fingers before he fucked her, his cock splitting her open.

He had barely touched her and she was already a mess for him, but she always was. "Can I?" He whispered against her lips, raising her shirt slightly. She nodded and lifted her arms, allowing him to pull her shirt off completely. Bradley dropped it onto the floor beside her shirts.

He kissed the top of her breasts while she ran her hands through his hair, whining and mewling. Even that was almost enough to push her over the edge, and she hadn't him him yet.

When she felt him again, pressed against her thigh, she wiggled her hips against him. This time, Bradley let her. He kissed down the flesh of her right tit until his lips met her nipple. Instantly, he brought it into his mouth. He let our a cry, throwing her head back. Bradley kept a hold of her, keeping her in his lap.

Her hips moved feverishly against him and Bradley pulled away from her breasts. His eyes locked onto hers as she pulled one hand from behind her back and travelled down to her cunt.

"You're soaked," he whispered, feeling her through her panties. She bucked her hips against his large hand and Bradley smirked.

Slowly, he peeled her panties away from her body and added them to the ever growing pile of clothes. When her cunt hit the cold hair she was desperately searching for him, begging him for some sort of friction.

"I've got you, pretty girl," he said as he brought his fingers back to her folds. He ran his fingers through them, feeling just how wet she was. When his fingers bumped against her clit, she let out an animalistic, inhuman noise.

Bradley eased his fingers into her. Every time they had sex, he had to ease himself into her. His fingers were so thick and so large, he did it one at a time, using her wetness as a lubricant. He pumped his finger in and out of her slowly, languidly, taking his sweet time with her.

Two fingers were already a stretch. But Bradley knew he needed one more to properly stretch her out. "So good f' me," he whispered as she rode his fingers, her forehead against his shoulder.

"Ready for one more, pretty girl?" He asked and she nodded. But Bradley wasn't going to do anything, not until she verbalised what she wanted.

When she choked out a 'yes', he eased a third finger into her. She cried out, stilling her hips and gripping his shoulders. He whispered sweetly in her ear, helping her to ease herself down. "So good," he said and kissed her head sweetly.

Every movement with three of his thick fingers inside of her had her shuddering. Bradley hit all the right spots inside of her, until she was shaking as she came, clenching around her fingers. "That's it," he praised, his cock straining against his trousers. "So fucking good."

He pulled out slowly and brought his cum covered fingers up to his lips. Bradley licked them clean. As soon as they were, he gripped her chin and pulled her closer, kissing her. At the taste of herself on his lips, in his moustache, she grinned. She cupped his face as she pulled away and began kissing down his neck.

Bradley loved to leave his mark on her, love to leave dark bruises down her neck so that everybody knew who she belonged to. But he loved it when she marked it, laying her claim on him.

Bradley freed himself from his trousers. He held himself as he helped her to sink down onto his cock. She let our a whine as she stretched around him, a sound he could have listened to on repeat for the rest of his life.

She tried to move, but Bradley held her still. "Hang on, Pretty girl," he said and quickly kissed her. "Just sit here with me."

So she sat there, incredibly full of him. She whined as she leaned forward, her head against his chest. Bradley kissed her, wrapped his arms around her as he held her tight.

His attention went back to the movie they had forgotten about. She cried out in desperation, desperate for his attention.

He didn't give it to her, not right away. Every time he shifted slightly she cried out, but he kept her on the tantalising edge of pleasure.

Bradley did everything but fuck her. He held her so sweetly, kissed her softly and played with the ends of her hair. But then his hands slid down to her ass and she couldn't hide her excitement.

"You ready, Pretty girl?"

Desperately, she nodded her head. Bradley kept a tight hold of her as he bucked his hips towards her, fucking up into her. He snapped his hips towards her in quick thrusts as she cried out, his name leaving her lips again and again.

His breathing deepened and Bradley gripped her tighter, sure to leave bruising handprints. Handprints she would wear with pride. His pretty girl didn't have to do anything, not while he was taking care of her.

His name tumbling from her lips turned into incoherent babbling as she got closer and closer. She hissed out a string of curses, tears springing to her eyes as Bradley pushed her over for the second time.

His thrusts had grown slow. They weren't exactly sloppy, but they were slower, mindful of her overstimulated cried.

He pulled out, shooting his cum onto her stomach. As Bradley placed her on the sofa beside him, she scooped some of the cum from her stomach onto her finger. She placed it in her mouth and sucked it off, all while staring at him.

Fuck, he wanted to run a bath for her, but now he was ready to go again.

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topguncortez · 10 months ago

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"honey, I'm home" SCREAMS Bradley Rooster Bradshaw

Bradley Bradshaw can not enter a room without letting everyone know he’s there. it’s probably something he inherited from his father, but he is one person who knows how to make an entrance.

The first time he had ever called out that ridiculous yet iconic line, was right after you moved in together. It had caught you off guard, making you round the corner with a questionable look on your face making sure you did in fact here him yell:

“honey, i’m home!” Bradley said again as you stood in the doorway.

“i see that,” You said, shaking your head at him, “And what is this announcement for?”

“Well,” He set down his duffle bag, “I thought I should tell you I was home,” He walked over to you and pulled you into his arms, making you squeal, “So you didn’t think i was an intruder. We’ve only been living together…” Bradley checks his watch, “43 hours and 25 minutes.”

You smile at the mustached man in front of you, “Well thank you for announcing your presence and scaring any potential burglars away.”

“All a part of the ‘living with Bradley Bradshaw’ package you purchased.”

“Yeah?” You bit your lip, your eyes raking over the bit of chest hair that was poking out of the top of his black t-shirt, “What else is included in the package?”

“This,” Bradley quickly hoisted you over his shoulder and carried you upstairs to your new shared bedroom.

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bloatedandalone04 · 3 months ago

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Guys My Age

➪the one where you’re bradley’s kid’s babysitter, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting you in every way.

Warnings: smut, fluff, unprotected sex, fingering, oral, swearing, multiple orgasms, squirting, hair pulling, dirty talk, dad bradley, age gap, aftercare aw, maybe a bit of a corruption kink (?), maybe size kink

Word Count: 4.1k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Bradley was desperate to speed up guys night so he could go back home. Not only only was his one year old son, Theo, there, but you were, too. And he wanted you. Bad.

But you were his kid’s babysitter.

His kid’s hot, kind and sexy babysitter he had no business feeling so attracted to.

It was bad enough there was a large age gap of ten years, with you being twenty three and him being thirty three. But you were far too stunning to pass up. He was down bad for you, and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. He could only hope you felt the same way about him, even though it was so wrong. Bradley knew it would feel so right.

Jake and the others teased him about being so distracted all night, and Bradley finally decided he was going home and hoping he didn’t make an ass of himself in front of you. He drove home, his body on fire as he pictured you sitting in his living room, waiting for him to come home and relieve you of your duties.

You were so good with Theo, and it only made Bradley even more attracted to you. He simply couldn’t help himself.

He pulled into his driveway, his heart beating loudly in his ears as he pulled the keys out of the ignition. He still couldn’t believe what was happening to him. His attraction to you was so strong and intense, it kinda scared him a bit. It had been so long since he felt like this, especially since his ex-wife had left him with their newborn son for him to try and figure out how to be a parent on his own.

Bradley hopped out of his Bronco and locked it behind him before heading towards the front door and entering his house. It was quiet, so you were probably up in Theo’s room with him. He threw his keys onto the counter before making his way upstairs and down the hall.

When he reached his son’s room, he poked his head inside and sure enough, you were standing over Theo’s crib, watching him sleep. Bradley leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched the sweet interaction of you leaning down to kiss Theo’s head.

Seeing you be so gentle with Theo made Bradley’s cock twitch in his jeans, your sweetness sending waves of desire through his body. He had to bite down on his lip to stop the groan from coming out, because he refused to have you quit on him because you caught him watching you like a perv.

Bradley cleared his throat, announcing his return to you. “Hey,” he greeted, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. You turned to face him quickly, and the surprised smile you gave him told him he’d caught you off guard.

“Hi, Mr. Bradshaw,” you greeted back and he refrained from groaning again at that name. He loved when you called him that, but he craved to hear you call him by his first name, too. “You’re back.”

“Yeah, I just got back,” he replied, giving you a forced smile. “How was your night with Theo?”

Your smile grew as you looked down at his boy, “Oh, it was great. Theo is the sweetest baby ever,”

Bradley hummed in agreement, knowing damn well your words were true. Theo was a sweet baby, and he had been since the second Bradley held him in that delivery room. “Um, have you eaten? I brought home pizza for dinner, and you’re more than welcome to join me,” he offered, hoping he wasn’t coming off as desperate, but also not caring if he did.

A blush took over your face as you looked over at him again. “Pizza sounds great. I haven’t eaten anything since I was planning on grabbing something on my way home,” you answered and Bradley grinned.

“Great,” he said and stepped aside, gesturing for you to lead the way. As he followed you into the kitchen, he was powerless to stop his eyes from taking in the curve of your hips and the way you walked. He had no idea why he found you so fucking intoxicating, but here he was.

By the time he leaned against the counter next to the table, he was painfully hard and only a little ashamed of it. “So, um, how was guys night?” You asked as you hovered near the table, your eyes flickering towards the pizza box before looking back at him.

Bradley ran his hand through his hair and cleared his throat. “Guys night was fine,” he responded. “But kind of boring. I gotta say, coming home to see you with my kid was probably the highlight of my night.”

Fuck, he really did not mean to say that out loud, but he did and now he can’t take it back. And now you’re blushing again and breaking eye contact with him. “Oh, um,” you trail off, dragging your finger along the edge of the pizza box. “That’s really nice. Thank you, Bradley- I mean, Mr. Bradshaw. I’m sorry.”

Well, fuck, he wants to hear you say his first name even more now. Bradley straightened up a bit and smiled at you. “Please, call me Bradley,”

When you looked back over at him, he knew something had changed. Something had shifted, he could tell by the way you bit your lip and looked at him with hooded, dark eyes he’d never seen before.

Could you actually feel the same way about him? God, he hoped so, because he was about three seconds away from risking it all.

He stepped towards you, hesitating for a brief second before he lifted his hand and placed it on your waist, and when you willingly turned to face him, he pulled you a bit closer. “I know this may sound inappropriate,” he started and reveled in the way your gaze flickered down to his lips. “But, God, Y/n…do you have any fucking idea what you do to me? Any idea about what I want to do to you?”

Your eyes widened a bit as you pressed your lips together and out of the corner of his eye, he could see the way your thighs pressed together, too.

Bradley reached up with his free hand and gripped your jaw, his thumb pulling at your bottom lip. “Tell me it’s not just me feeling this,” he rasped. “Tell me you feel it, too.”

The sound of your breath hitching and the sight of your eyes closing a bit was all the confirmation he needed. Well, that and the way you leaned up towards him with hunger in your eyes.

“Fuck it,” he grunted before closing the distance between you and capturing your lips in a deep, demanding kiss. His tongue pushed past your lips and delved into your mouth, his hand moving to cradle the back of your neck as he angled your head. His other hand tightly gripped your hip and pulled you forward until there was no space left between the two of you.

He kissed you possessively, needily, and you returned it with nearly everything he gave, and it was everything he wanted. Maybe more.

You gasped against his lips and he groaned when he felt your fingers tangle in his hair. He could feel goosebumps form on your skin when he slid his hand under your shirt and placed it firmly on your lower back. “I’ve wanted this for so fucking long,” he confessed against your mouth before going back in. He pulled you impossibly closer with both hands on your back, his cock throbbing painfully in his jeans as he allowed him to taste you in the way he thought he never could.

A soft moan left your lips as you tugged on his hair and leaned back against the table, pulling him along with you. “I’ve wanted this, too,” you whispered before kissing him again. “Is this…this is…okay? I mean, I’m your son’s babysitter, I…”

Bradley pulled back, his chest heaving a bit as he kissed the side of your head. Really, was any of this actually wrong? It definitely didn’t feel like it, and you both clearly wanted it. So was it really wrong? “We’re two consenting adults, Y/n. There’s nothing wrong with this,” he finally allowed himself to admit. “Besides, you’re not just Theo’s babysitter. You’re smart, funny, gorgeous, and you make me feel things I haven’t felt in years.”

His hands slid down to the curve of your back, and his fingertips gently dug into the firm skin of your ass before he pressed his forehead against yours.

“This isn’t just a fling for me,” he whispered as he brushed his lips against yours. “This means something more. Tell me you feel it, too.”

“I do,” you answer instantly. “Of course I do. I think you’re so attractive, but also kind and mature and everything I want.”

Bradley grinned, feeling his body heat up as he pushed himself closer to you. He was sure you could feel his boner by now, but there was no going back now. He was all in. “From now on, there’s no Mr. Bradshaw, okay? Just Bradley,” he whispered as he kissed along your jaw.

“Okay,” you mumble with wide eyes and wet lips. “Bradley.”

He smirked, “Good girl,” then leaned back down to kiss you deeply again. His hand moved further down to squeeze your ass while his other moved up to grope your chest through the thin material of your tank top. You tasted so good, he was sure he would never get enough.

“Oh, my God,” you whimpered, grabbing the sides of his neck as you leaned further back against the table, right next to the pizza you both had forgotten about. “You don’t know how hot you are when you call me that.”

Your body fit perfectly against his as he towered over you, his lips unrelenting as he kissed you. It felt like you belonged here, against him. “Good to know,” he grunted as he trailed kisses down your throat and pulled up your shirt until your lower stomach was exposed. “I want to hear every sound that leaves those pretty lips of yours. Every single one. Is that going to happen tonight, babygirl?”

You whimpered again when his fingers brushed against the underside of your bra. “What do you want to do to me?” You asked, breathless as you gripped his biceps.

Bradley smiled down at you before pressing a much softer kiss to your lips. “That depends on you, sweetheart,” he began, pushing down one strap of your tank top. “First, I’m going to take these clothes off you and explore every inch of your sweet body with my mouth.”

Your quiet moans were probably the best thing he had ever heard in his life, and he continued,

“I want to taste every part of you, and then I’m going to fuck you until you can’t even remember your own name,” he promised, pulling down your bra strap as well until you were nearly exposed. “How does that sound to you? Do you want that?”

“I want that,” you whined, nodding quickly. “God, I want that, Bradley. I’ve been wanting that for months now.”

“Months, huh?” He echoed. “Jesus Christ, why didn’t you say something sooner?”

You groaned and lifted your arms when he began to pull up your shirt, and you gave him a look once he let the fabric fall to the floor of his kitchen. “Why didn’t you?”

“Fair point,” he muttered, his hands gently pulling your bra off as well, leaving your top half completely bare. He bit his lip and ran his thumbs along the undersides of your breasts, leaning in to whisper next to your ear, “We can take our time then. No rushing this first time.”

You whimpered quietly, tugging on his hair. “First time?”

Bradley hummed against the skin of your shoulder. “Yeah, first time. One of many,” his hands came up to caress your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. “I meant what I said, babygirl. This isn’t some fling for me. I want you, all of you, if you’ll have me.”

Your fingers grab hold of his jaw as you nod. “Yes. Yes, Bradley. I want that, all of that, too,”

At your words, Bradley lets out a sigh of relief. He knew he wasn’t alone in this. He knew, at least a small part of him knew, that you were into him, too.

He grabbed your hips and bucked against you, a small jolt of relief taking over his body, but it wasn’t enough. “Then let’s make it official,” he mumbled, stepping away from you and pulling off his shirt. He unzips his jeans to feel a bit more relief, and when he looked back at you, your lips were parted and your eyes were wide. “Like what you see, sweetheart?”

At your quick nod, he moves closer again and leans down to take one of your nipples into his mouth. He gave it a gentle tug before soothing the sting with his tongue as his hand trails down your body. “Oh, my God,” you whispered, tipping your head back as you moved your hands to his hair again. “Are we really doing this?”

“We are,” he confirmed, releasing your nipple and looking down at you before dropping to his knees. His hands pulled down your jeans, and his eyes darkened at the pretty lace that covered your core from his greedy eyes. “These are cute, but they need to go.”

His fingers rubbed you through the material before he tugged it down and helped you kick them off to the side. Then you were completely bare to him, and you looked even more stunning than he imagined. Than he dreamed of.

“God, you’re hot,” you moaned, trailing your fingers through his hair.

Bradley laughed. “Flattery will get you everywhere with me, sweetheart,” he mumbled as he stood back up and gripped the backs of your thighs, lifting you up and setting you down on the table. He nudged your thighs apart and guided your feet to rest flat against the service, giving him the perfect view of your soaked pussy. “Goddamn, baby.”

His breathing was uneven as he sank back down to his knees and gripped your thighs. “Bradley,” you whimpered, making him glance up and meet your gaze. “What are you going to do to me?”

“I’m gonna worship this pretty little pussy in the way it deserves,” he answered, leaning in to lick a stripe up your slick folds and moaning the taste he’s been craving for so long. “All night long, if you let me.”

Then he was going back in for a deeper taste, his tongue separating your slit as his hands spread your thighs wider. Your sweet moans spurred him on, and he sucked on your clit as two of his fingers dipped inside your tight heat.

“So fucking tight and wet for me,” he groaned, licking up your folds again. “I could devour you for hours, babygirl.”

“Fuck,” you cried out, gripping the edges of the table as you tip your head back. “Bradley.”

Hearing you moan his name had him grunting, and he throbbed in his jeans. This was getting to be too much, but he wasn’t about to stop now. He didn’t think he could physically pull away from your pussy if he tried.

Loud, lewd slurping sounds filled the kitchen as he stayed true to his words and devoured you in the way you deserved, and your whimpers and gasps mixed in perfectly with the sounds his own mouth was making. “You’re so fucking responsive,” he rasped, blowing a cool puff of hair across your clit and making your body shudder. “How good am I making you feel, baby?”

“Fuck, so good,” you answered, pulling harshly on his hair. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop, please please please.”

Bradley fucked his fingers faster inside you, making sure to curl them against your tight walls. “I’m not stopping,” he swore, pressing his mouth to your clit. “I want you to cum all over my face.”

A soft cry left your lips as you ground your body against his face until you were coming. “Fuck! Oh, my God! Bradley!”

His eyes were fixated on your face as you writhed against him, and he wanted to drag this out for as long as he possibly could. He curled his fingers with each thrust of his hand, stroking that sweet spot deep inside you as his thumb rubbed your clit with no mercy. “Come on, baby, give me one more,” he fake begged. “I know you have another one in you.”

He went back to sucking on your clit and pistoning his fingers inside you, and he felt the way you tightened around him even more.

Then you were squirting on his face.

“Fuck,” you practically sobbed as you soaked his face. Your thighs were shaking violently now, your pussy clamped around his dripping finger as he pulled back with wide, dark eyes.

While he knew he could make you cum again, he was completely unprepared for the river that flooded his mouth and chin. He was fucking covered in you, and he literally almost came right then and there. “Fuck yeah,” he grunted breathlessly as he pulled his fingers out of you and stood up. He cleaned you from his fingers, then his palm, as he moved to position himself between your still trembling thighs, all while keeping eye contact with you. “Holy shit, baby.”

He kissed you deeply, moaning at the way your tongue licked all over his mouth and tasted yourself on his lips. When he pulled away, he looked down at your wet thighs, and the small puddle that had pooled under you on the table that was beginning to drip onto the tiled floor. “That was the hottest fucking thing I have ever seen,” he grunted. “You almost made me cum from that.”

Your laugh made him grin as you finally regained control over your breathing. “Fuck, I’ve never done that before,”

Bradley groaned loudly, licking his lips and closing his eyes at the taste of you that still lingered on them. He pushed his jeans and boxers down, his eyes ten shades darker as he looked at you. “I need to be inside you. Right now before I lose what’s left of my mind,” he murmured, giving his cock a few much-needed strokes. “Please, can I fuck you, baby?”

Your gaze was locked on his cock as you nodded. “Yes…yes, fuck me, Bradley,” you said quietly as you grabbed hold of the edge of the table. “Right here.”

He couldn’t ignore the way your mouth practically watered at the sight of him, and his ego grew even more. He knew he was big, but you made him feel like he had the biggest dick in the world. He was definitely the biggest you had ever seen, he could tell that from the look you were giving him now, and he felt a sense of pride wash over him.

Bradley gripped his base and your thigh as he guided his tip to your sopping entrance, and then he pushed inside with one swift movement. You moaned loudly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he felt your walls encase him perfectly.

He couldn’t wait anymore, not when he felt like he was two seconds away from coming.

Bradley gripped your hips and set a brutal pace, fucking you hard and fast as you whimpered and clawed at the skin on his neck. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as he fucked into you ruthlessly, the table creaking under each thrust. “Yeah, baby, take it all,” he grunted, looking down to watch the way his cock came out wetter and wetter each time he buried it inside you. “This is what you needed, isn’t it, sweetheart? You needed this tight pussy to be stretched open and fucked by a real man, huh?”

You nodded, then let out a loud cry as he began rubbing your puffy clit, and then you were coming around him. “Oh, fuck. Fuck!” You moaned, your eyes squeezed shut as your body trembled in his arms.

“That’s it, baby,” he cooed, his own body begging for release, but he held back as best as he could. His pelvis slammed against yours as he didn’t let up his pace, and your head tipped back as you let him continue to fuck you. “More, babygirl. I want to feel you cum for me again.”

You whine, wrapping your legs around his waist and pressing your heels against his back. “Fuck, Bradley. Don’t stop fucking me. You feel too good to stop…keep going,”

Yeah, you were pretty much perfect.

Bradley grunted as he watched your tits bounce with each thrust he gave, and he had to tighten his holds on your thighs as he felt his whole body tense up. He didn’t want to cum yet. You felt too good, too. He never wanted this to end. “You’re mine,” he muttered, his cock throbbing inside you as he leaned down to press a hard kiss to your mouth. “All mine, baby.”

He reached down and pulled your thigh higher on his hip, the new angle allowing him to hit even deeper inside you.

“You like that?”

“Fuck yes,” you moaned, your eyes rolling back as you clung to his biceps. “Your cock is fucking huge, Bradley. Feels so fucking good.”

The filthy words pouring from your mouth only turned him on even more, because you were his son’s sweet babysitter. There was something incredibly arousing to hear such dirty words spill from your seemingly innocent lips, especially since less than half an hour ago, you were his quiet and shy babysitter.

“Fucking hell. You’re so wet for me, baby, and you’ve got such a dirty fucking mouth,” he growled, feeling the way your pussy clenched around him. “Yeah, squeeze my dick just like that…just like that.”

When you came for a fourth time, he couldn’t hold back any more. Your hands were a bit frantic as you touched every part of him, trying to stable yourself as he fucked you through your high until he reached his own. With a loud groan, he buried himself deep inside you before coming hard.

His cum filled you up, his thrusts slowing down to weak bucks of his hips as his head fell onto your shoulder. Both your bodies were covered in sweat, and you both were panting. “I think I might have broken you,” he teased softly, peppering kisses along your salty skin as he slowly pulled out of you. “But don’t worry, babygirl. I’m gonna take care of you now.”

A soft whimper left your lips as you looked down to see his cum dripping out of you. “Bradley…that…that was…”

You were still shaking and he didn’t blame you. If he came four fucking times in less than half an hour, he’d be on the floor right now. “It was amazing,” he finished for you, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your mouth. “I’ve never had sex like that before in my entire life.”

He gathered up your trembling body into his arms and carried you into his bathroom and set you down onto the bathroom counter as he got the shower ready. Once it was at a good temperature, he lifted you up again and stepped under the water with you.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispered, waiting until he knew you could hold yourself up before he began washing your mixed cum away from the insides of your thighs.

It was as if you couldn’t be away from him right now, as when he stood back up, you forced yourself into his arms again and clung to his chest.

As the water poured down onto the both of you, Bradley kissed the top of your head and held you close. “That wasn’t just sex,” he murmured, running his fingers through your wet hair as he recalled his words from a few minutes ago. “It was something special. You’re more than just the girl who looks after my kid a couple times a week, babygirl. You’re someone very important to Theo and I.”

You blushed at his words and desperately kissed him back when he leaned down to press his lips to yours. “I am?”

Bradley caressed your face, his thumbs tugging on your kiss swollen lips. “You are,” he answered. “From the second I saw you, I knew there was something different about you. You brought light back into my life and you’re so perfect with Theo. And I intend to keep you right here with me, if you’ll let me.”

You pressed your lips together and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. “That wasn’t just sex for me, either,” you say against his mouth. “That was one of the best experiences of my life. From the start…til right now.”

Bradley grinned down at you before kissing you again. “You’re mine,” he repeated his words he said back in the kitchen.

And the smile you gave him told him all he needed to know, and he leaned back in to kiss you again, and continued to until the water turned cold.

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roosterforme · 5 months ago

Text

Vintage | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You love teasing your husband about his deep and unwavering devotion to his Bronco, but he's insistent that it would come in second place to you every time, and he intends to prove it. While you're away on deployment, he concocts a plan to get you behind the wheel of your very own vintage beauty.

Warnings: Swears, fluff, mentions of smut

Length: 2700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

"Sometimes I swear you love that thing more than you love me."

Your voice startled Bradley as he ran the wet, soapy sponge along the hood of his vintage Ford Bronco, pulling him from his thoughts. That was something you frequently said to him, jokingly claiming that you were the second love of his life. But you both knew it wasn't true. Especially not tonight.

"Hey, Baby," he whispered, coaxing you closer to him as he tossed the sponge back into the bucket. "Come here."

The setting sun painted your face with orange and gold, and he noticed the sadness in your eyes. He quickly wiped his hands on his jeans and then held them out to you, and you were in his arms in an instant. "Bradley," you mumbled against his chest as he squeezed you, getting your shirt a little damp in the process. But you didn't seem to mind. "I'm going to miss you."

Detailing and cleaning what used to be his dad's 1973 Bronco had become a way for him to relieve stress. He would get out the soap and turn on the hose when he needed a few minutes to himself. It was easier to be alone in his head, processing his thoughts and worries when he was washing the light blue masterpiece he'd spent so many years and a lot of money preserving. He always found himself in a better headspace to deal with whatever was troubling him when he spent some time with the Bronco. And today was no exception.

"I'm going to miss you, too."

Sometimes it felt like the nearly five years you and he had been married were just spent alternating deployments. First he would be gone on an aircraft carrier for months on end, and then it would be your turn. You'd be sent abroad with the Navy before returning to him, and then the cycle would begin anew. Everything felt harder when you weren't around, and maybe that's why Bradley was out on the driveway right now instead of helping you pack for your early call time tomorrow morning.

With your cheek pressed to his sternum, you cried softly. "It's only two months this time. And I'll have access to my phone. And I'll even be home in time for our anniversary. I don't know why I'm feeling so emotional about this."

He pressed his lips to your hair and whispered, "It's not like it gets any easier. You know that. I know that. It's going to feel like two months of hell on my end."

You sniffed hard then looked up at him with a little smirk. "At least you'll have the Bronco to keep you warm."

Bradley groaned and started to walk you backwards toward the house. "I mean, she's pretty and all, and I've definitely spent a night or two curled up around her gear shift, but I never gave her a diamond ring."

Your lips and your soft laughter against his neck sent a jolt of physical pleasure through his body, but he didn't want to rush this. He needed this to last, to hold him over for two months without your touch. Both of you tripped along to the bedroom where he smiled and whispered, "Let me show you that you're my number one girl. Let me prove you always will be."

Bradley was meticulous. He knew every inch of his Bronco, inside and out, but he knew you better. The sounds you made were prettier. The way you clung to him as he brought you pleasure was unparalleled. Your fingers laced with his as he connected his body with yours in the most intimate way, and it left him breathless.

"I love you."

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

Two days. He'd only been alone for two days, and he was already halfway through binge watching a season of a show that wasn't even that interesting. When he got home from work, he eyed up the couch and TV before ultimately changing into some sweats and heading back out to the driveway. He looked over the Bronco from hood to taillights, making a mental list of what she needed: new wiper blades, two new tires, and an oil change.

When he took his phone out to order the parts from his favorite website, he must have typed something wrong. It rerouted him to a vintage Ford resale page that left him staring at a sage green 1975 Bronco in rough condition. Man, she was still pretty though, with her original chrome and hubcaps. She was just an hour away, and the price wasn't too bad...

He glanced up at the blue gem in front of him. An idea started to take shape. He wondered how you would feel about it. With a smile, he ordered the wiper blades and oil filter that he needed and went inside to make dinner. But he couldn't stop picturing that chipped, green paint, and the vinyl that needed to be patched.

If he knew he could get you hooked on a Bronco of your very own, he'd make this purchase. Two months to go. Shit, he might have just enough time to pull this off. He could practically picture you cranking the engine to life and waving goodbye as you pulled out of the driveway and took your Bronco for a spin. He wouldn't be able to say it with a straight face, but he'd say it anyway. "You love that thing more than you love me, Baby."

When he was stretched out on your side of the bed later that night, enveloped in your sweet scent that clung to the pillows, he closed his eyes and thought long and hard about what he wanted to do. It would be fun to prove to you once and for all where his loyalties lie. Or maybe it could just be a project that would keep him busy, and if you didn't like the idea, he could resell it after you got home. Either way, he drifted to sleep as he thought about you behind the wheel, and he knew it was too perfect to pass up.

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

"Hey, Baby," Bradley said with a smirk as he answered his phone.

"Bradley! I miss you like crazy!"

"I miss you, too," he promised as he looked at the rather beat up, green Bronco before him. He got it for a great price when he offered to pay cash, and the tow truck just dropped it off a few days ago. Half of the engine was taken apart on a tarp at his feet, and it was currently jacked up so he could replace the oil pan. But he thought it was gorgeous. "I have a little surprise for you when you get home."

"A surprise?! Tell me. You know I can't wait that long."

"Nah," he said, kneeling down to check the wiring for the headlights. "I think I'll make you wait this one out."

"Rooster!"

"What?" he laughed, wedging the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he slipped his work gloves on and pulled at the loose wire. "You know, this is what you get for always giving me a hard time about my dad's Bronco. I love you so much, Baby, I'll make you wait for the surprise. It'll be sweeter that way."

"You're the worst," you groaned playfully. "Now I'll be thinking about what it could possibly be the whole time I'm gone. I'll be wondering what you have up your sleeve."

"As long as you're thinking about me, I'm happy," he rasped, and your pretty sigh in response left him a little breathless.

"I'm always thinking about you. Promise me as soon as I get back, we'll go for a long drive? Up along the coast? Late at night?"

He loved that idea. It would just look a little different than you were probably imagining if he could get this thing up and running again in time for your return. "We'll make a night of it," he promised. "I'll pack some blankets, and we can sit in the back and look out at the ocean. Can't guarantee I'll be able to keep my hands to myself though."

"Mmm. That's what I'm counting on."

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

After about two weeks of watching a lot of YouTube videos posted by professionals, Bradley finally had the engine rebuilt. He was just waiting for some parts to arrive before he could put it back in place. "You're a needy one, aren't you?" he asked the green Bronco. "Nothing like her. She's a saint." He nodded his head toward the blue one before kneeling to replace the taillights.

He was quickly realizing that the money he saved on the cost of the actual vehicle was being eaten up in the expensive, vintage parts. He was lucky he knew how to do most of this himself, even if it took twice as long. Today he was replacing the brakes and listening to a Motown playlist, and he fully realized that he felt calmest when he was with you or a Bronco. He snorted at how ridiculous that fact was as he scooted under the vehicle, but it was true. And having you tucked away in the back with the tailgate dropped, all wrapped up in a blanket while you turned him on just by existing.... well, that's when he would be happiest of all.

As the weeks wore on and the project progressed, the day finally arrived when it was time to try to start her up and take her for a little drive. Everything smelled like new rubber from the tires he'd just put on. The vinyl seats were still in bad shape, but when he slipped the key into the ignition and turned it, the engine purred to life.

Bradley's head tipped back as he groaned softly. "So fucking pretty. My god." He tapped the accelerator gently with his foot, enjoying the rev of the engine. He smoothed his hands along the steering wheel and the dashboard before he adjusted the rear view mirror to accommodate his height. Then he flicked the chrome switch and turned on the radio which he was surprised still worked.

My Girl by the Temptations poured from the speakers as the station crackled to life, and that felt like a very good sign. "Let's get out of here, Sweetheart," he whispered before shifting into reverse and leaving the driveway and his toolbox behind.

She was smooth and steady and everything he was hoping for. Would it ever fully compete with Goose's Bronco? Probably not. Was it worth the investment anyway? He'd find out next week when you got home. There were just a few things left to do before he dropped it off to be repainted and have the interior patched, and then she'd be good as new.

Bradley's phone rang in his pocket, and he smiled when he saw it was you. "Hey, Baby."

"Bradley! I miss you so much. I swear, if this thing was longer than two months, I wouldn't make it. What are you up to?"

"Oh, I'm just out for a little drive."

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

After eight weeks of nothing more than a few scant phone calls, Bradley was more than ready to have you home again. Maybe you and he could take a few days off from work. He'd help you catch up on some sleep after initially keeping you up all night. He already had some blankets ready to go as soon as you said you wanted to drive up to Carlsbad and watch the surfers at sunset before making love in the back of your Bronco.

Your Bronco. His wife's Bronco. It would take some getting used to, but it already made him smile every time he thought about it. With his hands on that familiar steering wheel, he drove toward the Naval base where both of you spent so much of your time. He waited, leaning against the light blue hood until you came running toward him in your uniform with your bags.

"Bradley!" you shrieked as you landed in his arms where you belonged.

"I missed you," he promised, finally kissing your lips again after so many weeks. He felt your bag hit his foot, and he smiled as he tilted your face up for better access to your mouth.

"I missed you, too," you moaned softly, and he was already making the move to get you back home and remind you what you meant to him. But you dug your feet in outside the passenger door.

"Where's my surprise?" you asked as you tucked your fingers into the top of his jeans and grinned up at him. "I've been thinking about it nonstop. Is it you?"

"No," he replied with a chuckle as his gaze drifted toward the Bronco. "You'll see soon enough."

You glanced at where he was looking, and you rolled your eyes before kissing his chin. "Did she keep you company while I was gone? She looks pristine, like you spend some time working on her."

Bradley kissed your forehead. "Just get in, Baby," he rasped. "The sooner we get home, the sooner your little surprise will make sense."

He knew the routine by heart now. The short ride home would start out with you holding his right hand and playing with his fingers while he drove. Then your hand would migrate to his thigh when the Bronco was about five blocks away. Then as soon as the tires touched the driveway, you'd unbuckle your seatbelt and make your way over to his lap.

The routine was important to him. He loved it. He loved taking you inside and directly to bed before coming back out much later to get the bags. He thrived on the return to normal life that was triggered by the routine. But today, he knew you weren't going to end up on his lap, and that was more than okay.

When your hand settled on his thigh exactly five blocks away from home, Bradley smiled. Your fingers crept up inch by inch as you leaned closer and whispered in his ear that you had their fifth wedding anniversary all planned out for the following weekend. You were playing with the zipper of his jeans by the time he could see the house, and he just waited for it. He was not disappointed.

"What the fuck is that?" you gasped, both hands going to the dashboard in front of you as you leaned to check out the freshly painted green Bronco as he coasted into the driveway. "Bradley?" you asked, glancing at him with wide eyes as he shifted into park.

He smiled and leaned over to kiss your softly parted lips. "This is your surprise. You're always joking about how much I love my Bronco, but I'll never love anything more than I love you."

You pressed your lips to his once before pulling away, shaking your head slightly. "So you got me one of my own?" you asked, jerking your thumb toward the green one.

He nodded and pulled his key from the ignition before pressing it into your palm. "Yep. She's all yours."

"Wait," you whispered, your brow creasing in confusion as you looked down at your hand. "This is your key."

"No, it's your key. The key to the green one is in the house. That's my key."

You gaped at him as your eyebrows shot upwards. "You're giving me your Bronco?"

"Yep."

"But," you whispered, turning to look out the window, "I can drive the other one."

"No, I bought the green one with myself in mind," he replied, taking your chin gently in his hand so you were looking at him again. "This one's better. She's sweet. Like you. She's yours."

"Oh my god, Bradley."

He was wrong; you did end up in his lap. Right where you belonged. His hands settled at your hips as you kissed every inch of his face while he laughed.

"I want to take her for a spin," you whispered, nudging him out of the driver's seat with your knee. "Go."

He smiled as he walked around to the passenger side of the blue Bronco, and he barely had the door closed before you started the engine and shifted into gear. "Pretty soon you'll love this thing more than you love me, Baby."

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

He gave you his Bronco. The green one was for him. That's how you know he loves you. I hope they do some nasty shit in the green one to break it in. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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sometimesanalice · 1 year ago

Text

Bedside Manner

Summary: You were expecting the perfect summer afternoon with the Daggers, but when a game of dogfight football takes a turn for the worse, you’re left with a bleeding head and an aching heart. And it’s up to Bradley to show you his bedside manner.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 8K

Warnings: A little angst, a little pining, and two idiots in love.

It’s a perfect summer afternoon. Well, almost.

The sun is high in the sky and the steady salt kissed ocean breeze keeps it from being too uncomfortably hot. The coolers are filled with beers and sodas and a few pink cans of rosé that Coyote had brought. And the beach blankets were littered with open half-eaten family sized bags of chips and cubes of bright pink watermelon and containers of various dips and ziplocs with sun warmed and mostly melted chocolate chip cookies.

“You guys, really, I’m fine,” you state as adamantly as you can given the circumstances.

Sure, you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your throbbing, bleeding head. Sure, you are a little afraid to put your full weight on your left ankle and already dreading the long walk back to your car.

But it’s fine, you’re fine. Everything is…peachy. Or it will be as soon as they all stop looking at you like you’re about to crumple to the ground like some 1920’s silent film starlet from on the silver screen.

Nat has that deep pinch between her sharp brown eyes. Jake’s lips are pressed together in a firm white line. The rest of the team stands hovering around you in a misshapen semicircle, all sandy and sweaty, and wearing the concern painted across their faces.

All except for Rooster, who can’t seem to look at you at all.

“Clearly, you’re not,” Phoenix says flatly, clearly unamused by your attempts to minimize the situation. And you wish that just this once she could have let this go and follow your lead. But then she wouldn’t be Natasha Trace.

Your best friend since middle school had always been the most capable and sharpest person in the room and you loved that about her.

Normally.

But not so much when her keen assessment of you keeps you from being able to slink away quietly without fuss.

“No, seriously. It’s just a little scratch. It’s not a big deal.” It sounds feeble even to your own ears. Trying to hold back a wince when the way you shake your head makes starbursts bloom behind your eyes.

You could have dealt with the pounding in your head if it weren’t for the relentless burning of your ankle that was only making things worse. One or the other would have been easier to manage, but both vying for your attention as the pain pulses with every heartbeat was miserable.

The sun was too hot, the kids frolicking the ocean were too loud, the sunscreen on your skin felt too greasy. All you wanted was a shower and your bed and to forget this whole day even happened.

You look around the group trying to gauge how successful your efforts are, but it’s clear that no one seems to be buying your brand of poorly performed bullshit. You wanted to crawl into yourself like a hermit crab, protected by your own shell, as six pairs of eyes all looked on at you sympathetically, while the pretty brown ones you wanted to see the most were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses and trained down at the ground.

It was supposed to be a fun day.

You’d woken up that morning absolutely giddy about trading spreadsheets for sand and sunburns and sea salt tangled hair. Your cheery, new swimsuit already laid out and waiting for you from the night before.

There was something thrilling about hooky on a Friday with all of your favorite people that made you feel all kinds of young and free. Well, hooky for you. They’d been given the day off after a month of intensive training and testing of some new defensive software. They all deserved the break and you were more than happy to tag along.

You were always the good kid in school, never skipping, never missing a class. You’d felt like a rebellious teen as you crafted your ‘out of office’ email, a smug grin on your face like you were getting away with something. Even though you’d earned the right to use that PTO whichever way you wanted.

The anticipation of a snow day from your childhood school days had nothing on the intoxicating promise of a beach day on a golden summer Friday.

The team must have felt the same way too because the group chat the night before had been chaotically amusing. The excitement was palpable enough that you’d almost think you all lived in some landlocked state rather than San Diego, where it felt like all roads led to the beach whether you wanted them to or not.

Somewhere between the string of all capitalized sentences and exclamation points with a few well-chosen emojis scattered throughout, Natasha had managed to wrangle everyone in enough into sorting out who was responsible for bringing what. There wouldn’t be another veggie platter incident, not on her watch.

You’d felt bright and effervescent as you’d pulled into the parking lot, your eyes reflexively seeking out a blue Bronco that hadn’t arrived yet. With a beach chair over one shoulder and a beach bag over the other and a packed cooler bag in your hand, you’d made towards the multicolored sprawl of blankets and the striped peaks of the umbrellas, where you were met with the smiling faces of shiny happy people.

Some of the boys had rushed over to help you carry your things and added your offerings to the communal pile of snacks and sunscreen and bottles of water. It had been easy to fall into conversation with everyone as you set up your own little patch of paradise and shimmied out of your frayed cut-offs. Natasha had given you a wolf whistle and you’d laughed as you give her the finger.

And hour and a half later with an easy grin on his face, carrying a case of beer and two big Ziploc bags stuffed with what you learned later were homemade cookies balanced on top, was Rooster.

You’ve had plenty of beach days with them but every time you saw him in those damn denim shorts he always seemed determined to wear, regardless of how impractical they were, your mind still went a little fizzy as you took in just how well they clung to his thighs.

He’d taken the ribbing from his squad in stride as he unboxed the beers and added them to the collection already chilling in Bob’s bright yellow cooler. You were trying- and failing- to read your worn paperback book when he’d surprised you by plopping his things next to yours on your oversized towel and stole a chunk of juicy watermelon off of the plate balanced on your lap.

“Hey, book worm,” he grinned as he popped it into his mouth, “How’s my favorite girl doing?” That smile of his getting bigger when you rolled your eyes at him.

“Hi, Rooster,” you’d said looking at him from over the top of your sunglasses with an amused smirk.

And if your cheeks felt warm, it was from the sun and not the teasing tone of his raspy voice.

When he’d shrugged off his shirt to apply the sunscreen you’d brought with him in mind, the wink he’d shot you went straight to your head like champagne. The sun highlighting his impressive abs and sculpted shoulders didn’t help either as he took great efforts to cover his chest and stomach with the lotion. He had to be doing it on purpose, because he’d kept rubbing it in well past when the white hue faded. But who were you to complain? Melanoma was no joke.

“You wanna help me out?” he’d asked turning his back to you, looking over his shoulder. You’re pretty sure that he’d been flexing because he’d looked impossibly broad, every defined muscle standing out for eyes to map out and explore.

You’d been at war with yourself, because while your eager hands were desperate to touch him, you also knew that once you ran your hands along his solid frame that you’d never want to stop. That you wouldn’t be content until your fingertips had traced every inch of him.

You had been blessedly and devastatingly spared the choice.

“I got you, Rooster. My hands are already all sunscreen-y,” chimed in Bob, who had just finished rubbing his own freshly applied layer. “Wouldn’t want it to get on her book.”

You were only half relieved to be off the hook, while Bradley on the other hand was still looking at you expectantly, almost hopefully, still with the white and yellow bottle of sunscreen partly extended towards you.

“That’s so sweet of you, Bob-” you’d started.

“Yeah, so sweet-” Bradley grumbled under his breath.

“I appreciate you sparing my pages the sunscreen grease,” you’d said shooting Bob a smile, choosing to ignore Bradley’s comment completely. “Plus, your hands are bigger than mine. You’ll have him covered in no time.”

Bradley looked between you and Bob before he passed the bottle to the other man, shaking his head a little in defeat. You’d giggled to yourself as you wiggled your book at an openly brooding Bradley, and then leaned back on your elbows to observe the way the attentive WSO made sure to carefully and thoroughly cover Bradley’s entire back.

Respectfully, of course.

Behind your sunglasses you’d admired all of Bradley’s bulk compared to Bob’s lithe grace. But in your defense, they were standing right in front of you and you’d already reread your book at least five times in the past, so it wasn’t nearly as interesting as the scene in front of you had been.

“You look awfully comfortable over there,” Rooster called out with a raised eyebrow.

“Just taking in the view,” you’d teased back.

“Yeah, I bet you are,” he huffed as Bob finished up, giving him a thanks, man before tossing you back the bottle of sunscreen. He’d nudged his sunglasses down his nose and pinned you with his gaze, “Let me know if you want me to get your back. My hands are just as capable as his.” Even in the high heat of summer, the way he’d looked at you sent chills running along your arms.

You felt the way his keen eyes traveled from your face, down the deep-v of your swimsuit and along the swells of your breasts, and down your legs to your freshly painted toes. His mouth had ticked up in the corner then left you reeling and your heart pounding away in your chest as he’d strut off to go join Fanboy and Coyote by the mountain of snacks.

And that was the thing about Bradley Bradshaw. You never knew if he was just flirt-y or flirt-ing.

You hadn’t had a crush in ages, but when Nat had introduced you to her team five months ago, the man with the sunkissed curls and surprisingly attractive mustache had immediately caught your eye.

And as you’d gotten to know him, it had only gotten worse.

Not only was he very nice to look at and could make you laugh until your sides ached, but he also he had depth about him in a way that most men your age didn’t. You liked talking to him and listening to his stories. You liked learning his perspective on things. You liked being around him.

He made you feel interesting and special and funny and seen. You’ve never felt as comfortable in your own skin as you did when you were around him.

Rooster would send you flirty winks, give you less than subtle once overs, and could flash you such devastating slow grins that they’d have you trying to catch the butterflies they released in your stomach for hours after you went home.

But he’s never made a move.

If only he wouldn’t play hide and seek with his true intentions.

You felt like you were still waiting on some small clue whether he was serious or not. You didn’t know if he was just having fun with you or if he was into you and it was more than just friendly banter. It would be so much easier if he’d straight up tell you one way or another.

Needless to say, you’d let Nat be the one to help you with your sunscreen a little bit later. The idea of Bradley’s big hands on you, gliding along your sun-warmed skin and under the crisscross straps of your swimsuit, was too much for your hummingbird heart.

The sun climbed higher into the sky as the butter yellow midmorning transformed into a Midas-touched golden afternoon.

The squad had been able to reserve a fire pit and the plan had been to stay until the sunset. An endless summer day stretching out before them like a cat. They had nothing but time.

Clusters of people came together and split apart like a kaleidoscope as some went to take a dip in the ocean or raid the cooler and snack spread or go for a walk along the shore. Changing and shifting with the direction of the wind, going where the mood took them.

And for a peaceful moment, it had been you with your book and a napping Bradley sprawled out next to you on your towel with his arm flung over his eyes. Close enough that you could feel his warmth, almost but not quite touching. The sound of his soft breaths and the waves their own kind of lullaby as you contentedly read your book, turning your pages quietly to not disturb the man next to you, as the droplets of the Pacific dried on your skin.

You still don’t know how you got roped into playing a round of dogfight football with the Navy’s best and brightest. You were more of a corn hole or ladder toss kind of girl, but Coyote had all but thrown you over his shoulder and dragged you out before you’d agreed to participate, conceding your defeat.

You were on a team with Hangman, Coyote, Fanboy against Nat, Rooster, Payback, and Bob. A few plays in and you had been getting the hang of it. They’d all been making sure to take care to go easy on you even in the chaos of two teams playing offensively and defensively at the same time. You were more than a little out of breath, but you were having fun.

Before the next snap, Mickey gave the most impassioned pep talk you’d ever heard, “Fuck luck, we don’t need luck. We gotta fucking win.” You had been about to laugh, but then you’d seen the looks on Jake and Javy’s faces and decided against it. Curious about the other team, you’d glanced over only to see Rooster looking back at you.

The calls had been made, the blur of plays in motion as people whirled and dodged and sprinted.

You’d just lobbed the ball to Javy before darting around Nat when a big, solid body collided with you. Hard. You’d felt the twinge of your ankle twisting in the sand right before the force sent you flying in the opposite direction you’d been headed.

The impact had been jarring. The air knocked from your lungs.

Where you should have been met with a mouthful of gritty sand, instead your head had connected with the rough surface of a partially buried rock. The low, thick thud reverberating throughout your whole body.

You’d been so stunned that you didn’t even register you were even on the ground until you heard the chorus of oh fucks and holy shits and goddamns and jesus christs over the ringing in your ears.

The game coming to an immediate and conclusive end.

For how many empty bottles and cans were sitting collected in a trash bag off to the side of your beach set up, they had been surprisingly quick to act as you blinked blankly, trying to clear the spots from your vision.

It was a silent ballet of efficiency as they instinctively fell into their roles, much like you imagined they did the sky. Everyone stepping up and then stepping back as they did their part, like the ebb and flow of waves.

Nat had carefully poured some fresh water from a bottle on your face to remove the sand that clung to the sweat and sunscreen on your skin. Then Jake had wordlessly passed her his clean spare shirt he’d jogged of to get to help stop the bleeding after Javy checked on your pupils to make sure they were the same size. While Bob stood off to the side holding your warped sunglasses in his hands, as if he was hopeful they could still be salvaged. Mickey and Reuben had been waiting in the wings giving you space, ready to help if they were needed, but not wanting to not crowd in.

And from the corner of your eye, you’d caught Rooster standing a couple feet away with his hands in his hair looking absolutely wrecked.

“Bradley?” you’d tried, even though his name stuck to your teeth. But he’d just shook his head at you before turning away slightly, like he couldn’t look at you, which made your heart sting as well.

They only allowed you to move to sit up after they were content with the answer to their questions- What day is it? Friday. Where are you? San Diego. What else hurts? My ankle and my pride.

It wasn’t until someone hauled you up from underneath your armpits that the throbbing and stinging and aching settled over you. The pain seeping and spreading through muscle and bone like an inky oil spill.

It’s still an almost perfect summer afternoon except for the fact you hate everything about this.

You hate the way they’re gathered around you with too many pairs of assessing eyes pinned on you. You hate that you’re the reason the game of dogfight football came to a definitive and abrupt end. You hate that you’re the reason their carefree and fun afternoon off has turned into this.

There’s a pressure building behind your eyes, the hot tears of hurt and frustration and embarrassment are clamoring to be released. You have to bite your lower lip to keep it from trembling.

And it doesn’t help that you’re the type who’d rather lick your wounds in peace.

You just need to get back to your car and you can figure things out on your own from there. You just need a moment to yourself.

As you open your mouth to argue your case again, Jake puts his hand up and stops you before you’ve even had a chance to start, “I hate to break it to you, sugar, but you’re not fooling any of us.” He says it gently, but gives you a pointed look at the way you’re leaning heavily on your right leg to keep the pressure off of your left ankle.

“That head wound is not a little scratch. Just like your ankle isn’t just a little puffy, when it’s twice the size it should be. You need to go to the Emergency Room,” Nat says, final and resolute. A lifetime of friendship has taught you not to argue when she has that look in her eyes, the one that says try me, I dare you.

They all talk over you as they figure out who is the most sober of the group after your suggestion to call yourself an Uber is immediately shot down. Drinks are being counted on fingers, and memories are searched to make sure every sip and bottle and can is accounted for.

Your eyes drift over to the man who is still actively avoiding looking at you, even as he talks to everyone else on the team. You aren’t paying too close attention to what he is saying, but you can hear the short, clipped staccato of his words.

Bradley’s shoulders are tinged a little pink even though you know for a fact that you had purposely passed him the 65 SPF. His eyes are hidden behind his dark green tinted sunglasses, but you don’t need to see them when you can read his body language better than any book.

His arms are crossed firmly over his chest, the tendons in his forearms flexing and shifting, like he is squeezing and releasing his fists from where they’re tucked under his biceps. Everything in his body looks coiled tight and strained, so at odds with the easy going and loose-limbed man you know him to be.

You don’t realize just how much you’ve zoned out until Natasha has to say your name a couple time before you pull your gaze away from Bradley and back to her.

“Ok, it’s settled,” Nat informs you, “Rooster’s going to take you.” You barely nod your head in acknowledgement when she tells you, because it feels like you’ve been punched in the stomach now too.

“It’s the least he can do,” Jake drawls.

“That’s not fair-” you start, defensively.

“Fuck off, Bagman-” Rooster snaps.

The rage in his voice shocks you, you’ve never heard that much heat from him before. There’s none of the teasing tone that usually underscores their banter. Jake puts both of his hands up placatingly like my bad, folks and Javy just shakes his head and sighs.

And this time when you look at Bradley, he is finally looking back at you with a deep furrow in his brow. His jaw is clenched tight, that muscle ticking and jumping, as he takes in the way you have Jake’s t-shirt pressed against your forehead.

Not exactly the way you’d hoped he’d be looking at you when you put on your new blue and white striped swimsuit this morning.

The one you’d bought because you wanted to make him look.

Just not like this.

With everything sorted the rest of the team trickles away a smattering of take cares and get better soons and let us know if you need anythings. But not before Mickey hands Rooster his stuff and passes Nat your bag and sandals. He gives you the gentlest of squeezes on your shoulder before he leaves to join everyone else back on little part of the beach you all had claimed before things went to shit.

Your group of eight now downsized to a trio.

Bradley is quick to roughly pull on his tank and shirt, and Nat fishes out your car keys from your bag as she waits for him to slip his shoes on. When he’s ready she passes it to him and he silently slides it over his arm.

Nat bends down to help gingerly glide your feet into your sandals, “I’ll grab the rest your things and drop them off at your place and then one of the boys will drop off your car later. We’ve got it all covered, ok?”

“Thanks, Nat,” you say quietly, trying to hold back a wince as she slips the left one on, your ankle pulsing in tempo with your heartbeat.

“Best friends don’t say thank you, they just do,” she says matter-of-factly as she stands. It’s the same thing you’d told her after you’d dumped a carton of strawberry milk on Carly Radke for outing Natasha your freshman year in high school. It was only time you’d ever gotten detention, but it had been worth it.

“They just do,” you repeat with a small smile.

You’re so grateful that your friendship with her is one that has spanned years. That you’ve been able seen one another grow and change and come into their own, but that you haven’t outgrown each other. She’s the person you want by your side and having your back. There is no one quite like Natasha Trace.

She turns to Bradley and you watch him stand a little taller under her sharp eyes, your straw tote still dangling from his forearm.

“You good?” Nat asks him with a look in her eye that you can’t place. And you’re reminded that even though she’s your best friend, that he has also earned a spot as one of her closest friends. Their relationship built over years and experiences that you could never fully understand. Different, but just as deep.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got her. I’ll take care of her,” Rooster promises with a stiff nod, as he gives her his word. It might have made your heart beat a little faster if you didn’t feel like such a burden. That it’s simply a twist of fate and three less drinks than everyone else for the reason that he’s the one to look after you. That he’s the one stuck with you.

“I know you will,” she says softer now, patting his shoulder, “Keep me posted.” Nat presses a kiss to your cheek and gives you an encouraging smile then heads off to go rejoin everyone else.

You watch her go with longing. The cheerful beach set up with its colorful blankets and umbrellas looks more like a desert mirage now. The sweet coconut scented potential of what the day could have been now forever out of reach.

And then it’s just you and Bradley and the sound of the waves and cries of seagulls.

The two of you silent and motionless.

You feel one wrong move and the fragile attempt of the stiff upper lip you’ve cocooned yourself in will crack open and all the soft parts of you will seep out into the sand beneath your feet.

His expression is shuttered closed as he bends a bit like he is going to pick you up.

“Woah, buddy, what are you doing?” You’re squinting into the sun as you look at him. You’d step into his shadow to block it, since you’re now in need of a new pair of sunglasses, but that would mean moving to the left which isn’t an option with your ankle.

“Buddy,” he grunts under his breath, slipping off his sunglasses and carefully putting them on your face, being mindful of stinging scrapes and wad of soft cotton you’re holding to your head. “They’re definitely going to have to run concussion protocol on you,” he mutters more to himself than to you, “I’m taking you to the Bronco and then we’re going the ER, remember?”

“Yeah, I know, Rooster,” you grit out, even rolling your eyes hurts, “But I don’t need you to carry me.”

Everything about this was excruciating and embarrassing enough without him being the Clark Gable to your Vivian Leigh. Maybe you could lean on him and hop over to his car? Like a six-foot-one pair of crutches with good hair.

“Take a step without wincing and I’ll think about it,” he says firmly, pointedly calling your bluff. There’s an expectant look of go on then, whenever you’re ready on his face. Because he knows he’s right, and you do too.

You don’t even bother to make a move, but the way your lower lips wobbles speaks volumes.

“That’s what I thought,” he says quietly, almost like pains him to be right.

He bends a little to hook his arms around your knees and back to lift you up, and this time you let him. Your free arm automatically wrapping around the back of his neck. And he starts off towards the winking windshields of the parking lot.

You’ve thought about what it would be like to be wrapped up in Bradley’s arms, how good it would feel to be pressed closed against him. And now you are and it’s nothing like you’ve imagined, because there isn’t anything sweet or swoon-worthy about how you ended up in them. You’re his duty, you’re not his desire.

All your sandcastle hopes have been washed away by the tide.

You’re so frustrated. You’re frustrated by the day, by yourself, by him.

This time you can’t blink back the tears that well up in your eyes. They flood through your tear ducts carving hot trails down your sun-tinged cheeks.

You want the Bradley from earlier.

The one who stole your watermelon with warmth in his eyes.

The one who dozed next to you in the sun like a cat, his features soft free of the tension he now holds in his shoulders.

You want your Bradley.

The one who’d whispered cheeky comments in your ear whenever the team got into lighthearted tequila fueled arguments about things like whether a hot dog was a sandwich.

The one who’d always go up to the bar with you on busy nights at the Hard Deck and make sure you didn’t get bumped into on the way back to your friends with your freshly refilled drinks.

You’re aching, aching. Everywhere.

For a brief moment, as you swipe at your tears, you’re happy for the throbbing in your head and ankle, so that way you don’t have to think about the stinging in your heart.

“I know, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know you’re hurting,” Rooster says gentle and low as you sniffle, but you can hear the thickness of the words in his throat. The term of endearment is the sweetest of nothings, making your tears come faster. Where it should ease the heartache, all it does is make you angry at yourself for giving your emotions away. “We’re almost to the Bronco. It’s ok, we’re gonna get you taken care of, I promise.”

We.

You wanted that with him.

You want to press both of your hands to his cheeks to make him look you in the eyes to ask him is it going to be you and me together? You’ve been a fool for love before, but you didn’t know if could take another hit-and-run with your heart.

The salt of your tears makes your cheeks feel tight and itchy as the summer breeze dries them on your skin.

Bradley carries you like you weigh nothing, but cradles you like you’re the most precious things he’s ever held. He’s mindful of any dips in the sand and gives wide berth around the college kids playing volleyball close to the entry back to the parking lot.

When he reaches the Bronco, he sets you down gently, making sure both of your feet are planted on the asphalt before letting go of you to unlock his car. He tells you to wait a moment when you move to open the passenger side door.

“I never know when I might get called up for an emergency deployment, so I like to have some extra clothes just in case,” he explains as he digs around in the backseat, pulling out a pair of gray athletic shorts.

“Oh.” And you realize you’re still just clad in your striped swimsuit. “Thank you for sparing me from the hospital germs,” you say lightly, an attempt at a joke to break the ice. One that doesn’t land, since instead of cracking a grin he just presses his lips together in a firm line and nods.

Bradley crouches low in front of you and you put a hand on his shoulder for balance as you lean against the Bronco, still trying to keep as much pressure off your left ankle as possible as you step into them. He’s looking up at you and even through his sunglasses perched on your nose, you swear his brown eyes get a shade darker as he eases the shorts up your legs. You’re touched by the effort as he ties the strings in a lopsided bow, even if things are feeling tense between the two of you.

“Think this’ll be easier,” he mumbles shrugging off his light blue button up. You’ve always liked this one, with its soft pastel pink and minty green watercolor prints of net fishermen and hula girls and palm trees.

He holds it open for you, helping you thread your arm through it, and then takes over holding Jake’s now ruined shirt to your head so that you can get your other arm past the sleeve. It smells like him, citrus and amber. Your fingers brush against each other when you reclaim the makeshift bandage, and he adjusts his shirt so that it hangs over your shoulders just right.

It’s an awkward kind silent as Rooster helps lift you into the Bronco with his strong hands around your hips. He is all smooth efficiency as he buckles you in with a click. You pass him back his sunglasses the same moment he hands you your tote bag, and it almost feels like a hostage exchange.

He says nothing as he hauls himself into the driver’s side. The car rumbles to life when he turns the key in the ignition and a cheery song from the 80’s station on the radio comes on. Bradley quick to turn the volume down low. His thumb brushing your shoulder as he sets his hand on the back of your seat to look behind him as he carefully backs out of the spot.

It’s never felt this strained with him before.

It’s so painfully obvious that the two of you are walking on eggshells around each other. You can almost feel the wall that’s gone up around him. The white noise of the radio drowned out by the hum of the road as he drives in near silence.

Your day has been most effectively ruined by a chunk of sedimentary rock, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still recoup what’s left of it.

He could still have the perfect summer afternoon.

He could still go back to your friends and their perfect beach set up and laugh with them as Coyote keeps accidentally setting marshmallows on fire. He could still catch the bold oranges and soft pinks of the sunset with all the satisfied contentment he deserved to experience.

“You can leave me and go back, you know. I’ll be ok if you just want drop me off and then head back to the beach,” you say looking down at your fingers as you trace the stitching of his leather seats.

When he doesn’t answer right away, you glance over at him. The vein in his neck is standing out boldly against the column of his throat.

“Do I seem like the kind of guy who would leave someone at the ER alone?” he asks, his voice rougher than sandpaper.

“No. No, of course not,” you say emphatically, “That’s why I’m giving you permission.”

“Permission?” he scoffs with a shake of his head.

“Yes, permission,” you say, clipped.

You’re giving him an out, why doesn’t he get that?

He heaves a big sigh and grunts. “Is it… Would you rather have Bob- with his big hands- here instead?” Bradley asks, frustration leaking out around the edges of his words.

“Bob with his big hands?” you repeat baffled, “What does Bob have to do with anything about this?”

“That’s what you said earlier, sweetheart. I’m just citing the source. Or I can call Phoenix? Or…” he pauses glancing at the t-shirt pressed to your head, “Or even Seresin. Once we get you checked in I can call any of them an Uber or something, and they can be there with you, if you don’t want me.”

“No, Rooster, I don’t want anyone else.” You wince at the implication and hope it doesn’t read into it further than the current situation to two of you are wading through like quick sand.

“Ok, good,” he grumbles.

“Great,” you lob back.

His hand tightens on the steering wheel, the knuckles turning white, “Then where is this even coming from?” The action makes his thick forearm flex in this most delicious of ways that you’d appreciate more if you didn’t feel the anger simmering low in your stomach.

“It’s pretty damn clear that you’d rather be back there, Rooster. Or literally anywhere else right now.” You flip down the sun visor with more force than it deserves, regretting that you gave him his sunglasses back when the bright California sun in your eyes turns your headache into a full-blown migraine.

“Of course, I’d rather be anywhere else!” he says hotly, tossing his sunglasses back in your lap, “Do you think I like that you’re hurt and that we’re on our way to the hospital?” You shove them on your face with an angry huff.

A car speeds by blaring their horn as they pass by.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Fuck off,” he grunts but speed of the Bronco doesn’t change, “Asshole.”

Bradley’s driving five miles under the posted limit, and you know for a fact he religiously drives at least ten miles over. And his turns have been smoother than butter, as if he is trying not to jostle you anymore than you’d already been today.

You are so tired of this hot and cold thing that he’s doing. His words and his deeds weren’t going hand in hand. He keeps giving you the cold shoulder, but is also so in tune with your every movement and need.

Gingerly, you angle yourself in your seat to look at him better, resting your tired left arm on the back of your seat and taking in his strong profile.

“Why are you being like this?” you demand, waving your free hand in a vaguely in his general direction.

“Like what? I’m not being like anything,” he retorts, making the same vague hand gesture as you did a moment earlier.

And oh, if that doesn’t fill your chest with hot indignation. That low simmering anger has turned into a full roiling boil as you shift in your seat trying to get your ankle in a position where it doesn’t hurt.

“Seriously, Rooster? I can feel tension rolling off of you in waves. You’ve been like this since everything turned to complete shit on the beach. I didn’t mean to ruin your day, I’m just trying to figure out how to make things better,” you bite out unable to keep things bottled up anymore.

He sucks in a sharp breath, “Are you kidding me right now? You think you ruined my day?” He glances from the road to you and back again, his brown eyes wide and searching.

“Yes?” Or so you’d thought until you’d seen the shock written all over his face, but now you weren’t so sure. It’s like you’ve dumped ice water on him instead of simply calling him out. “I feel like you’re taking it out on me and I don’t know why.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rooster swears under his breath, shaking his head. “I’m so damn sorry, sweetheart. I’m mad at myself, because I ruined your day. I should have been more careful, I should have been looking out for you. It’s not like you’re hard to miss in that swimsuit.” Your cheeks heat up at the comment, but you choose to ignore it.

Misery drips from his words like spilled ink off a page. You knew he was upset, but you didn’t realize he was upset about that. That he’s shouldering this fluke of fate as if it is his burden to bear. Some of the anger you’ve been feeling leaves your body like the tide washing out back out to sea. You’re still upset at him for how he has been acting up until this point, but you’re not mad at him about that.

“Bradley, no. It was an accident.”

“Yeah, an accident I’m responsible for,” he says hoarsely, rubbing roughly at his forehead. “God, I can still hear the sound it made when you hit that rock and it makes me feel sick. I would give anything to undo that moment. I need you to know that.”

He is being so hard on himself and your heart squeezes, this time in sympathy rather than hurt. He didn’t place that rock in the sand, the both of you were victims of circumstance.

“It could have happened to anyone. It could have been anyone,” you press delicately, trying to get him to hear you, shifting in your seat again still uncomfortable.

The sunshine bounces off of his slumped shoulders as he sighs raggedly.

“But it happened to you and it’s my fault. You’re bleeding, you’re in pain, and you’ve been crying. And it’s because of me.” He reaches down with his right hand and lifts up your leg so that you can rest it on his thigh, some of the ache alleviating immediately. He asks quietly, “That better?”

“Yes, thank you,” you murmur. He looks so upset, and all you want to do is curl into his lap. You want to hold him and you want to be held by him. “You know I don’t blame you, right?”

You expect him to move his hand back to the steering wheel, but he keeps it on your leg. His thumb stroking your still slightly sandy shin. Your cheery toenail polish at odds with the color blooming around your ankle.

Bradley’s throat bobs as he swallows hard, “Yeah, I do. I know that. But I still blame myself.”

The Bronco rolls to a soft stop at the light. There’s enough traffic that you know you’ll be here for a bit, and so does he since he turns in his seat to look fully at you. You take his sunglasses off, tucking them into the pocket of his shirt that rests above your heart, so nothing stands between his brown eyes and yours.

“So, you’re going to keep beating yourself up over it and icing me out? Making me feel worse? For what, Bradley? Because you’re a glutton for punishment? That’s not fair to me or to you.”

“Shit,” he mutters, his left hand running through his curls. “You’re right and I’m so sorry. I’ve been in my head feeling so damn guilty that I’ve been such an asshole. Can you forgive me?”

You’re about to answer him that when a horn startles you, making you jump in the leather seat. You see the light is green, the car that had been in front of you is gliding through the intersection passing under a blue sign pointing the way to the hospital.

“Bradley, the light.”

The car behind the two of you honks their horn again.

“They can wait. This is important, you are important. Do you forgive me?” There’s an underscore of need that punctuates his question.

“Yes, of course,” you say easily and sincerely. There’s so much remorse in his eyes, you would have forgiven him with that look alone.

“Thank you,” he breathes out in relief. And then he smiles at you for the first time since the beach and that ache in your heart is completely soothed, bandaged by that soft way he is looking at you.

Atlas no longer, he can simply be Bradley.

He takes his foot off the brake and by some miracle he’s able to make it through the light before it turns red again. You can see the tall structure of the parking lot near the hospital poking out above the line of the treetops.

The destination is closer than ever, but there are still things on your mind.

“And you aren’t an asshole, Bradley. But your bedside manner could definitely use some work,” you tease with a smile of your own.

“Baby, I’ve been trying to show you my bedside manner, but you keep holding me at arm’s length,” he groans dramatically.

The idea of experiencing Bradley Bradshaw’s bedside manner makes you feel all kinds of weak in the knees, even as you’re seated in his Bronco with your leg propped up in his lap, his big hand skating up and down along your shin comfortingly.

“How can you even say that with a straight face? You’ve never made a move!” you exclaim incredulously, “I was even the one to ask for your phone number, if you remember.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I hit on you all the time,” he argues with your favorite brand of Bradshaw banter, “I’ve been waiting for you to give me the green light, sweetheart.”

“I thought you were supposed to be pretty and smart,” you smirk.

He barks a laugh and the last tendrils of all the tension and all the pressure that had been swirling around you like a marine layer evaporates.

“You saying I’ve had the green light this whole time?” He looks over at you with a boyish smile, you like the way you feel when he looks at you like this.

“What I’m saying, Bradley, is if you’d have actually asked me out I would have said yes.” You press your toes into the muscle of his thick thigh and immediately regret it, wincing as pain ripples around your ankle.

He makes a sympathetic sound deep in his chest, “Sounds like I’ve been an idiot.”

“A very pretty one,” you allow, leaning your aching head back against the back seat.

“At least there’s that,” he concedes good-naturedly as he pulls into the parking lot, turning on his blinker for a spot opening up near the entrance to the Emergency Room by some twist of fate, one that’s in your favor this time.

Bradley pulls into the empty spot and kills the engine turning to you. He gently eases your foot back down onto the sandy floormat of the Bronco and leans into unbuckle your seatbelt.

He’s so close now looking up at you from under his eyelashes, and your breath catches in your throat. He moves closer, you can see the bits of hazel that surround his pupils. Your eyes flutter close and you tilt your head up, lips parting at the anticipation of his kiss.

There’s no holding back the noise of dissatisfaction you make when his lips press a tender kiss to your cheek. You lean into him wanting to feel, wanting him to give you more. His warm breath coasts over your skin as he chuckles. You can feel the way his lips are pulled up into a smile.

“I’m a gentleman, sweetheart,” he says as he pulls away, his eyes lingering on your lips. “My mom raised me not to go for the kiss on the first date. Or ones with head wounds and potential concussions.”

“Some first date,” you lament jokingly, looking in at the fluorescent lights awaiting you inside the hospital. You’d rather skip over this part entirely, but you’re ready to be done with holding Jake’s shirt to your head. “Nothing like insurance cards and scrubs to really set the mood.”

“Mmm. How about this, after we’re done here, I’ll take you through whatever drive-thru you want-”

“In-N-Out,” you cut in without a second thought. The novelty of it still hasn’t worn off on you, even if the fries are terrible.

“Ok,” he grins, “I’ll take you through in In-N-Out and get you your number two combo with mustard and grilled onions with a vanilla shake.” He pauses waiting for your nod of approval, looking more than pleased with himself when you acknowledge he got your order right.

“I like the sound of this so far,” you hum.

“Well that’s good. Since it’ll be our first date, I want to set that bar high,” he says giving you a wink. And there are those butterflies again, this time you don’t try to catch them with a net. They’re free to flutter around as they wish.

“If you really want to impress me, you’ll also take me through the McDonald’s drive-thru for their fries,” you muse.

“Done.”

“I was kidding,” you laugh, shaking your head at him disbelievingly and thoroughly charmed.

“Well, I wasn’t. So after we get you fed, give or take some fries, I will bring you home. I’ll get you whatever you need, I want to make sure you’re comfortable. Think you might be on crutches for a bit, sweetheart,” he says softly, playing with the ends of your hair. “And then in the morning, if you’re up for it, I’ll take you out for breakfast. Or bring you breakfast. Whatever you want. We can call that date number two.”

“And then you’ll kiss me?”

“And then I’ll kiss you,” he promises, offering you a crooked pinky finger. You beam and you wrap your own around his.

He slips out of the driver’s seat leaving you to contemplate the terms of his offer as he rounds the front of the Bronco. The nurses are going to get an eyeful of him in only those snug jean shorts and thin white tank. You make a mental note to avoid looking at him if they have to connect you to a heart rate monitor, he doesn’t need to know the effect he has on you. Not yet anyways.

“I have counteroffer,” you announce turning your body towards him as he opens your door for you.

“Let’s hear it, baby,” he says with a grin that almost makes you forget how bad your head and ankle hurt, “Shoot.”

“We still go to In-N-Out, but then in the morning you make me breakfast in bed with some of those famous Bradshaw pancakes I’ve heard about,” you say, as he steps in between your legs, “Seems like a good way to work on that bedside manner of yours.”

“I think you’re going to like my bedside manner, sweetheart,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb over your cheek.

You tilt your head at him, taking in the sunkissed strands in his hair and the affection in his eyes, “I guess we’ll have to find out.”

“Guess we will,” he rasps.

Rooster drops another sweet kiss to your cheek, whispering for you to stay put, and then he struts off towards the automatic doors of the Emergency Room. Leaving you alone with the butterflies in your stomach and the hope in your heart.

You dig your phone out of your straw tote and check the time, doing the math in your head.

There are a few messages from Nat and other people on the team already checking in, but you know you’ll have time to reply to them later as you wait with Bradley sitting by your side.

You look up and see he’s got a wheelchair now and is making his way back to you, wearing a soft smile on his face just for you.

Only seventeen more hours until you get to kiss Bradley Bradshaw and you can’t wait.

You’ve got that forever feeling about him.

Oh, oh, oh.

Thank you for reading! Rock on. Oh that joke was schist, I'll see myself out.

This was written as part of @roosterforme's Rocktober Playlist! You can check out all the other great submissions here!

The song that inspired this story was Paula Abdul's "Straight Up"

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