#bradley rooster bradshaw oneshot

[foreverrandomwritings]

Oral Fixation

Summary: The five times Bradley takes note of your oral fixation. Then the one time he decides to say something to you. (I was watching both Legally Blonde movies when writing this last night so it turned out kind of pink)

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x afab!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, rough deployments, insecurities, alcohol, bars, clubs, sex MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY.

Word count: 3660

Masterlist

One

The first time you met was also coincidentally the first time he noticed your oral fixation. You had been transferred into fightertown from an overseas position. You were a new Psychologist and had been tasked with going around to pretty much everyone on base to inquire about their desire for a therapist. You had found most of the dagger squad in the rec room. Payback, Fanboy and Coyote were all up in the sky and the rest of them were lounging around the room. 

Bradley had turned his head away from the movie on the tv in front of him at the sound of your closed toe pink heels clicking along the tiles of the ground. His eye’s worked their way up from your feet, to your light gray slacks up to the pretty pink silk button up tucked away inside of them. When his eyes finally landed on your face you had been sucking on your cheek. As your eyes connected to his own you let go of your cheek and gave him a sheepish smile. 

“Hi, I’m the new clinical psychologist on base. Vice Admiral Simpson suggested I go around and introduce myself.” You stuck out your hand expectantly. He gave you a smirk wrapping his much larger hand around your own. 

“Bradley Bradshaw, callsign Rooster, Ma’am.” His hand was still clasped with your own, but you didn’t seem to mind. The screams of victory from Phoenix and Bob as they won a game of foosball against Yale and Harvard had your hands separating reluctantly. 

“Here’s my card.” You pulled a stack of them out of your pants pocket. Slipping one out of the pink rubber band they were wrapped in you handed him the small white rectangle. 

“I already have a therapist off base. But is there any way I can call you for dinner?” The boldness of his question had your cheeks heating. You pulled your lip between your teeth, debating how to respond to him. 

“I don’t see why that would be a problem.” You gave him a sweet smile before slipping away from him and working to the other aviators in the room. He watched your every move admiring the way you so easily conversed with the group. He noticed your eyes light up when you got to Hangman and his lips pulled into a frown. He couldn’t hear what you were saying as the two of you were on the other side of the room. 

Jake reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a small container of toothpicks. He shook one out and handed it to you with a smirk. You said something to him before passing him one of your cards and taking the toothpick from him. Bradley watched you place the little piece of spearmint wood between your teeth. Your shoulders relaxed as you closed your lips around the object. Then you were walking his way again and he quickly flicked his eyes back to the tv not wanting to get caught staring. But you had felt his eyes on you the whole time you were in the room. 

Two 

The second time he notices your oral fixation is while you are about a month into dating. He had asked you to go to the hard deck with him. It’s a slow night so you are sitting at the bar talking to Penny. Bradley is at a table with Natasha while she goes on about the double date she and Bob just went on the night before. He was only half listening however. His eyes were focused on your form clad in a pair of high waisted light wash ripped skinny jeans and a bright pink cropped tank top. 

Penny had a customer so she had been helping them which had left you alone briefly. You plucked the cherry from the bottom of your glass and pulled the fruit off the stem. You chewed it quickly before slipping the stem into your mouth. You absentmindedly worked the stem around your mouth as you scanned the bar. Your eyes met Bradleys and you gave him a toothy grin showing him the knot you had made proudly. He sent you a wink and a thumbs up. 

“Are you even paying attention to me?” Natasha huffed out at him dramatically. He turned to his best friend sat across from him and gave her an apologetic look. 

“I’m sorry about that. What were you saying about your date?” The female aviator rolled her eyes before continuing her story. He listened more intently this time actually nodding along and conversing with her as she spoke.

“I’m gonna go grab another beer. You want one too?” He asked her as he stood up, their conversation had ended a moment ago and they had just sat in comfortable silence. But Bradley was desperate to be next to you so he could take in the smell of your floral perfume. Natasha grunted in response, handing him the empty bottle she had been peeling the label from. 

“Hi there cherry blossom.” The long nickname had stuck like glue when he had first laid eyes on the pink flowers tattooed across your back. 

“Roos.” You giggled at him, the silver chain with a single delicate pearl around your neck moving along with your chest. 

“Are you drunk?” His eyes took in the knotted stem filled napkin beside you. He knew Penny had to have been doubling the cherries with the amount he saw. 

“Just a little tipsy. Penny makes amazing drinks, Roos.” You punctuated the sentence by taking a sip of your drink loudly. Bradley let out a laugh at your dramatic show, shaking his head playfully. As you pulled the glass away from your lips a few drops fell along your chin. He moved his thumb up quickly, swiping the drops away. He was going to wipe it off on his jeans but you pulled his thumb up to your mouth and sucked his thumb between your lips. You gave it a small bite before pulling your mouth away.

“Feel like taking a walk to the Bronco with me real quick.” He blinked at you slowly as you uttered the words. 

“Uh yea... Yeap. That sounds good.” He all but dragged you out of the bar, his and Natasha’s drinks forgotten. You eagerly pushed him into the backseat before climbing in beside him. He experienced the best blow job of his life that night. 

Three

The third time he noticed your oral fixation was when he had walked into your office on your lunch break. You were sitting at your desk biting off pieces of twizzlers aggressively. You hadn’t noticed Bradley yet so he sat in the doorway admiring the way you looked. Your eyes were narrowed at your paper and your pen gilded across it making harsh marks along it. 

“You’re gonna rip your paper if you press any harder.” Your hand came up to your chest quickly, eyes widening. 

“Bradley, I didn’t hear you come in.” You glanced at your watch, sat upon your wrist and flenched. Eye’s slowly moved from the screen up to your boyfriend. 

“I didn’t realize what time it was. I’m trying to get through some patient notes. I’m so sorry.” You were supposed to meet him in the cafeteria and have lunch with him there. But you had just had a group come back from a rough deployment and had been swamped with paperwork from their sessions. 

“It’s alright. I knew work has been rough lately so I figured I’d bring lunch to you.” He held up the bag that you had worked together to pack the night before.

“What would I do without you?” You asked him as you rolled your chair back standing up and coming around the desk. Bradley closed the door and moved farther into the room. He opened up your cabinet where you had hidden a microwave and popped in your pasta. 

“You’d be left severely unsatisfied.” You hummed at the double meaning sitting down on the couch usually left for patients to sit on. 

“How was work today?” You questioned him sweetly, smoothing out the material of your checkered pink pencil skirt. 

“Went pretty well. We’re going over a new manual for a few tester planes we might get the chance to fly.” You had heard rumors around the base that the aviators were going to get some cool new toys to play with soon. The microwave alerted Bradley, it was done and he pulled the food out of it before closing the cabinet back. 

“Here you go.” You took the food from him eagerly as he held it out for you. Spinning the pasta around on your fork before taking a large bite. You both sat and ate in silence enjoying the other's company and the good food. As you took the last bite of your pasta you held the plastic fork to your lips. The prongs slipped between your lips and you started to slowly gnaw on the material. Your watch furiously buzzed where it was sitting on your wrist. That seemed to jerk you from your thoughts. You looked at the clock hanging on the wall opposite you and groaned. 

“I’ve got a patient coming in five minutes and I still need to pull everything up from our last session. I hate to cut this short but I’m gonna have to kick you out.” Your lips were set in a pout as you gazed at him. He closed the gap between you, giving you a few quick pecks on your lips before pulling away, listening to you whine pathetically as he did. 

“That’s alright pretty girl. I’ve gotta get back to the hangar anyways.” He stood up and grabbed your container before slipping them both into the lunch box. He grabbed your fork as well and went to throw it away, taking note of the teeth marks embedded in the plastic. He’d have to ask you about your constant need for oral stimulation one day. 

Four

The fourth time he notices your oral fixation he kinda blames it on you being drunk. You’re out celebrating your friend's birthday at a club and Bradley had volunteered to be the designated driver that night for you and your three friends. You were going through shots like it was your job. He had sat at a booth in the corner keeping an eye on you guys as well as keeping an eye on your stuff sat on the table top. 

You had bumped into Jake at some point through the night and had conned him into giving you some of his toothpicks. You had then proceeded to chew through all of them in under an hour. Bradley watched you throw away the last one as it had snapped between your teeth with a pout on your lips. You then scanned the crowd quickly before your eyes landed on him and your face lit up. He watched you weave through the sea of dancing bodies quickly before you were sliding into the booth next to him. 

“How can I help you, pretty girl?” Your already warm cheeks warmed even more at the compliment. 

“You’re so handsome, Roos. Have I told you that already?” You hiccuped as you took his hand in your own. 

“Doesn’t matter much if I did. I’ll tell you till I can’t breathe anymore.” You looked at him with hooded eyes as you brought his hand to your mouth and started to work your soft lip gloss coated lips across the rough skin in open mouthed kisses. 

“You’re smearing your lip gloss everywhere cherry blossom.” He didn’t mind that you were getting it on his skin but he knew you’d be a little upset with the way the pink glitter was coating your face. 

“It’s alright.” You threw his arm over your shoulder and sidled up next to him. He groaned as you laid your lips on his neck. You nipped and licked at the skin languidly. 

“Come on, it’s girls night. He’s not here for you to play vampire with.” You pulled away from him slowly at your friend's words. 

“I’m taking this.” You plucked the small black straw from his glass of Coke, before slipping from the booth. You adjusted your glittery pink dress as you stood and wiped your lip gloss off your face with a napkin. You placed the straw between your lips and gave him a wink. 

You shimmed your way between two of your friends and danced with them for a while. Your teeth chewed on the straw as you lost yourself to the songs. Eventually your friends slipped back to the bar and you took the opportunity to slip back to your mustached boyfriend. He was going to playfully scold you for leaving your friends again but you didn’t give him a chance. 

You scooted into the booth and planted your lips against his. He brought one of his hands up to rest against your face as you pulled his bottom lip between your teeth and sucked on it for a moment. He thought briefly about where your straw had gone but his thoughts were cleared as you slipped your tongue between his lips. Drunk you just couldn’t keep your mouth busy enough it seemed. But he wasn’t complaining one bit. 

Five

The fifth time he had noticed your oral fixation had been one of the funniest. You were both covered in sea water sitting inside an ice cream shop that was along the strip of shops on the coast of the beach. You had gotten done with your ice cream cone way before the tall man sat beside you. He had insisted on getting the largest size they had. You told him you were worried about it melting everywhere but he had shooed you off. 

“I’m gonna go get some gum.” You had spotted a gumball machine when you had first walked into the a/c filled building. 

You dug out a few quarters from your purse and inserted them into the slot. You turned it a couple times before lifting the flap. The handful of pink gumballs filled your hand and you hummed in delight. As you sat back at the table with your boyfriend you slipped two gumballs into your mouth. You chewed on them animatedly, occasionally telling him about something funny that had happened in the show you were watching.

“Fuck.” He had been much slower with his ice cream than he expected and it had started to melt all over his hand.

“Oh here let me get that.” He thought you were gonna reach for a napkin but instead you pulled his fingers to your lips. You popped each one into your mouth, licking all the Chocolate and sprinkles off his fingers. He gave you a bewildered look as you nibbled on each finger tip gently. 

“There ya go all clean.” You seemed proud of yourself for the way you cleaned him off. You grabbed a napkin out of the silver napkin holder and wiped his mustache clean as well. 

“Thank you pretty girl.” You gave him a toothy grin before popping another pink ball into your mouth. You continued on with the funny story you were telling him and he continued to eat his ice cream. Neither of you mentioned what just happened. 

Six

The sixth time he noticed your oral fixation was also the time he decided to ask you about it. It had been the morning after a few intense rounds of sex. You had been out of town for a week at a conference and had just gotten back and the night had been passionate. He had woken up before you which wasn’t a surprise, the jet lag from the trip paired with the activities of the prior night had caught up with you quickly. He slipped on  a pair of his shorts he grabbed from the floor. Then he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. His sleepy eyes took in his shirtless form in the mirror and dropped his toothbrush into the sink. 

There were blue, purple, green and red marks all over his chest, neck and arms. Some of them looked like hickies, others looked like teeth marks. His finger came to run across every mark he could see. He was used to the occasional mark after sex with you but this was another level for the two of you. But he didn’t mind one bit. He was actually ecstatic to have the marks splayed along his body. 

His mind flashed to a tiktok he had seen recently about something called an oral fixation. He thought back to all the times he realized your need for oral stimulation. All the dots seemed to connect as he recalled the information from the short video. He decided to do some research before making breakfast for the both of you. He sat downstairs with his laptop for almost an hour taking notes occasionally in a notebook he kept around the house. 

After about an hour his stomach started to rumble and he closed his laptop. He slipped on an old navy crew neck he grabbed from the dryer before starting on the French toast, eggs and bacon. He knew you’d be hungry after your intense session last night so he made plenty of food. He was just getting done with your matcha latte when you made your way into the kitchen. You had on a pink babydoll nightgown and your hair was a mess. 

“Smells good in here.” You told him as a yawn slipped past your lips. He gave you a peck on the lips when you wrapped your arms around his middle and laid your chin on his chest. 

“I’m almost done with your matcha latte. Why don’t you go sit down and eat?” He nodded his head over to the kitchen island. You puckered your lips at him, batting your lashes at him lazily. He placed his lips upon yours once more before you slipped out of his arms. He landed a smack on your ass as you walked away causing you to gasp. 

He was sitting on a stool next to you after a couple of minutes. You moaned as you put the first bite of French toast in your mouth. He felt pride swell in his chest as the thought of you loving his food so much. He had learned everything he knew from his mother so it always made him happy when you showed how much you enjoyed it. The many cookbooks in the pantry held so many recipes that you were more than pleased to try. 

You guys conversed easily, talking about your seperate week. You took another long sip from your latte as you fixed your eyes on him. He was telling you a funny story about something stupid Maverick had said. You hadn’t realized you had zoned out until Bradley laid a hand on your leg. You stopped chewing on the rubber bit wrapped around the tip of your metal straw. Eyes refocusing on the man in front of you. 

“Do you have an oral fixation cherry blossom?” Bradley felt bad saying it so bluntly when you stopped drinking your match latte and pulled the straw out of your mouth. Your eyes focused on the floor beneath your pink slipper clad feet. You played with the hem of your night dress giving him a nonchalant shrug. 

“It’s okay if you do babe. I just gotta know what I can do to help you.” His finger hooked under your chin bringing your face up so he could see it. 

“It’s something that started as a kid. I normally do it unconsciously. Most of the time it’s when I’m stressed out, tired or need something to do.” You had been told by people before how weird it was. You were constantly chewing on random stuff, eating or chewing gum. Sometimes when you were with a partner you liked to give them love bites. It hadn’t crossed your mind however that you hadn’t told Bradley about the quirk. 

“I love you very much and you are valid to need to stimulate yourself. I’m not judging you. I did some research on it this morning while you slept. Just in case you did, I’d understand it better.” He could tell you were feeling uncomfortable thinking he was making fun of you. You were speechless at his words. No one had ever gone out of their way to understand your unique way of needing stimulation. 

“I’m guessing from what I learned this morning that the marks you left on me last night was your need to feel close to me and grounded during the vigorous activities.” You cocked your head to the side looking down at his shirt. You noticed some hickey marks along his neck but those were pretty normal for the pair of you. He reached for the hem of his crew neck and pulled it up. You gasped a hand coming up to your lips as you looked at the marks decorating his tanned skin. 

“Oh Bradley I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You carefully placed a hand on one especially harsh mark on his chest. 

“It doesn’t hurt, pretty girl. I like that you were comfortable enough with me to be able to stimulate yourself the way you needed to.” He gave you a reassuring smile as he dragged his shirt back down. 

“If you want we can go for another round. You can leave some on my back too.” His eyes held mischief as he looked at you.

“I love you so fucking much.” You giggled before launching yourself out of your stool and collided with the solid mass that was your boyfriend. You were on cloud nine from the open communication from the man you were lucky enough to call your own. 

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this. Likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated. 

Tags(open): @wkndwlff​ @sylviebell​ @eternallyvenus​ @loving-and-dreaming​ @princess76179​ @kmc1989​ 

[captainsophiestark]

Winglets

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2024!

Fandom: Top Gun

Day Twenty-Three Prompt: "We can fix this, I know we can."

Summary: Rooster and his SO are housesitting for Penny while she, Mav, and Amelia are on vacation. A relaxing staycation turns into a schoolwork refresher course when they get a little carried away.

Word Count: 1,578

Category: Fluff, Humor, maybe a little bit of Angst?

A/N: Happy Halloween!!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Oh... Bradley."

Bradly hummed, his face buried in my neck and his arms wrapped tight around my waist. I ran my hands through his hair, tipping my head back further to give him better access.

"Are you still upset that Mav left you home?" I teased, running my hands across his shoulders. Bradley huffed a laugh.

"Nah. I'll trade an extended family vacation for this."

I grinned, then let out a little shriek as Bradley wrapped his arms around my thighs and hoisted me up, moving back towards the counter by the wall. My back hit something, hard, and I didn't think much of it until I heard a concerningly loud crash a moment later.

Bradley and I both froze on the spot. Slowly, without moving any more than we had to, Bradley and I pulled back enough to look at each other. His expression of terror exactly matched the feeling in my chest.

The two of us were having a little couples staycation while housesitting for Mav, Penny, and Amelia. The three of them were going on their first ever vacation as a family, and they'd asked Bradley and I to stay over at their place while they were gone. It'd been a nice break from base housing, and we'd been enjoying some uniterrupted alone time. But whatever that crash had been, it didn't sound good.

My eyes didn't leave Bradley's as he glanced over my shoulder. He paled and swore, and that was enough to get me in motion.

I pushed us both away from the counter, then whirled out of Bradley's arms to see how bad it was for myself. My heart dropped.

Amelia's science fair project, which had been sitting on the counter until a few moments ago, now lay shattered on the floor.

"Holy shit," I breathed, just staring in horror for a moment before finally whirling back to Bradley. "Holy shit! What did we just do?"

He shook his head, grave and still way more pale than normal.

"Amelia's going to kill us. And then Mav's going to kill us. And then Penny."

"We're the worst," I said, turning back to the project and shaking my head. My stomach was still down by my feet, a claw of guilt wrapped tight around my chest. "How did we not notice that? Dammit, out of every single countertop in this house, how did we manage to pick this one?"

I heard Bradley take a deep breath from behind me, and then his arm wrapped around my shoulder. I was ready to shake him off—neither of us should be getting comfort right now—but he spoke before I could say as much.

"Alright, this is bad. But it doesn't have to stay that way. We just have to keep a clear head and be smart."

"Baby, I think we're already past the point where being smart could've saved us."

"Not quite."

His hand dropped from around my shoulders, and he moved to crouch next to the broken science project. He picked up a few of the bigger pieces, turning them over in his hands, and then surveyed the poster board that went with it. That, at least, looked mostly still intact.

"We can fix this," he finally said, turning back to me, "I know we can."

"Bradley, it is shattered-"

"It's an airplane aerodynamics project with an arts and crafts execution. I'm a Navy pilot and I've seen you build an F1 car model without the instruction manual. This is exactly our experise."

I closed my eyes and sighed, trying to get a little space from the guilt and panic to think clearly. Bradley was right; the only chance we had to keep this from being a complete and total disaster was to stay calm and be smart. I took a few deep breaths, and when I opened my eyes again, the panic had been mostly replaced by a steely determination.

"Alright. Alright, you make a good point. Let's give it a try."

"Great! Come help me pick up all these pieces, we can set up on the kitchen table. We've still got a day before they get home."

"It took Amelia like two weeks to put this thing together."

"Yeah, but we're not starting from scratch. Come on, positive thoughts."

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

The next several hours were chaos. Bradley and I managed to get all the pieces of Amelia's model airplane wings picked up off the floor, but hardly any of it was salvageable. We set everything on the counter, grabbed some pens and paper, and started planning out the best reconstruciton we could get. Luckily, Bradley had to know quite a bit about aerodynamics as a pilot. With the two of us working together and reading off of Amelia's notes, we managed to come up with a plan for putting things back together exactly as they had been.

Putting that plan into motion was where the real chaos came in.

After a quick run to buy supplies, Bradley and I had turned the kitchen counter into a mad scientist's workstation, with bits and pieces of our project laid out everywhere. I worked carefully to put the airplane wings back together while Bradley directed my placement of the arrows and squiggly plastic pieces denoting airflow, pressure, lift, and everything else Amelia needed to cover in her project.

"Okay, those small spirals go on the wing without the winglets."

"Are they seriously called winglets?" I asked, not glancing up from the project in my hands as I worked.

"Yes. Do you want help?"

"Yeah, hold the wing while I take the glue and our little plastic spiral."

Bradley stepped closer, his hands remarkable steady as I went to work. The spirals were supposed to show the air vortices that formed around the wing tip, and how they impacted lift when the little winglets weren't there to slow down their path. The whole time we'd been working on this project, I'd been impressed. Amelia knew a lot, and she'd found some pretty cool ways to show it.

"Alright, just hold that together for a few minutes," I said, leaning away and setting the hot glue gun down once I was done. Bradley did as I said, resting his forearms on the counter and settling in. I surveyed the rest of the countertop. "We're pretty close to done now, aren't we?"

Bradley looked around too, and I could see him going through his own mental checklist. We'd started this little project just after dinner, and now, we were into the early hours of the next morning with no sleep. It was good for both of us to be double-checking each other.

"I think so," he finally said with a nod. "Although we still have to figure out how to replace the couple of things that got messed up on her trifold."

I waved him off. "Easy. All we have to do is retype it on a laptop, print it out, and stick it back where it belongs."

Bradley nodded again, and I put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze before standing from the kitchen stool.

"I'll go knock it out while you supervise the last of our gluing. We're in the home stretch."

He shot me a tired smile, and I headed to the living room to quickly replace the missing pieces of the trifold. Thankfully, we didn't run into any new complications as we put everything back into its final place. The sun was just starting to come up outside, but when Bradley and I stepped back from the counter, his arm around my shoulders as we admired our work, it looked perfect.

"I can't believe we actually managed to pull that off," I said, huffing a laugh and shaking my head. Bradley squeezed my shoulders, and when I glanced at him, I found him grinning at me.

"I can. We did a great job."

I smiled. "Yeah. Crazy, but we do really make a good team."

He leaned down to place a soft, sweet kiss on my lips. Then, instead of pulling back, he stayed close enough to speak lowly in my ear.

"You know, that was a pretty outstanding parenting move if you ask me. Maybe it's time we-"

"HELL no, Bradshaw," I said, taking a step back with a gentle push on Bradley's chest. "And that's both to having kids right now, and to doing anything more than soft pecks with our hands mostly to ourselves until we get the hell out of this house. We don't have time to fix this whole thing again."

Bradley laughed, pulling me back into his side, and the sound warmed my chest.

"Alright, alright, message recieved. It might be a good idea to wait and see if Amelia notices anything before we celebrate, anyway."

"Welp, we're not gonna have to wait long for that one. Come on, let's go get some sleep before she, Penny, and Mav get home. I'm so tired that if she even glances at me after seeing the project I'll probably crack."

Bradley laughed again as the two of us headed off to the spare bedroom, arms around each other. I'd won the lottery when I'd found him, my perfect wingman in every aspect of life, and I knew he felt the same about me. From science fair projects to beef with coworkers to big life emergencies, there was no one I'd rather have on my side than him.

Even though that love and affection had been the thing to get us in trouble in the first place tonight.

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21

Top Gun Taglist: @elenavampire21

[witchwyfe]

care for you - brb

I pairing: bradley (rooster) bradshaw x female reader

I précis: bradley loves taking care of you, so you take care of him<3 4 +1 ways bradley shows you he cares, and one extra for him.

I word count: 1,388

I content + warnings: mentions of alcohol, mentions of food

also tagging @familyvideostevie i'm so glad you're a rooster gal now<3 welcome

one

You hadn’t even asked him to. You’d mentioned it in passing, more as a reminder to yourself. The tire pressure light on your dashboard is something you can and have easily taken care of before.

When you leave for work the next morning, Bradley’s already gone. You plug your keys into the ignition and wait for the light to glow. It never lights up, your brows furrowing in confusion. 

You mean to text Bradley about it, about how strange it was. The weather hasn’t been particularly cold so there’s no reason your tire pressure light should turn on and off like that. But once you get to work, you’re bombarded with things to do, and the busyness of the day pushes the thought from your head. 

Bradley is on the couch when you get home, and he jumps up when he hears the key in the lock.

“Baby!” He coos, drawing you into his arms and against his chest. His lips are at the crown of your head, dragging his hand up and down your back. “My sweet girl, how was work?”

“It was fine.” You pull away to smile at him. “What about you? Everything go, okay?”

He nods fondly, reaching to trace the apple of your cheek with his thumb. 

“Oh!” You exclaim, as the thought of your car just pops into your head. “My car light was off babe.”

“Hmm?”

“It was on yesterday, but this morning it was off.” You furrow your brows until it clicks.

“Wait, did you put air in my tires?” You wonder, looking up at him.

Heat rises on his cheeks as he gives you a sheepish grin. “I took your car this morning before I left.”

“I could’ve gotten it!” You say softly, enthralled by him. 

“I know darlin’, but I wanted to do it for you, so that you didn’t have to worry about it.”

“Bradley,” You groan, letting your head fall against his chest. “You’re way too sweet to me.”

“No such thing.”

two

You don’t always realize it, but Bradley is always paying attention to what you’re drinking. He likes to make sure that you always have what you need.

Whether it’s refilling your wine glass when it gets low or picking up a package of Gatorade when you’re sick, Bradley wants to make sure you’re drinking something.

He has a half day today and doesn’t need to leave until about noon. You lined up your work so that you could work from home and spend a little extra time with him in the morning. So, after sleeping in with your body pressed against his, you’d been woken up to coffee—made just how you like it—and a plethora of kisses from your boyfriend. 

Now, in your pajamas, you’re hunched over your laptop while Bradley rushes around to get his things together. He’s been eyeing your water bottle all morning, after he filled it with ice water and handed it to you. According to his observations, you’ve had more coffee than water and he doesn’t want you to get a headache later.

“Hey sweetheart?” He calls, earning your attention. 

“Yeah?”

“Can you do something for me before I leave?”

“Yes, what do you need?”

He comes over to stand over your desk, fingertips digging softly into the back of your neck, massaging gently.

“Finish your water for me.” He says, nudging the bottle over to you.

“Seriously?” You scoff. “That’s all you needed?”

He nods, a smug grin on his face. You keep eye contact while you take the last few sips before smiling. 

“Happy now?”

“Very.”

He takes it and walks right over to fill it with more ice and water. When he sets it right in front of you, he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I want that finished by the time I’m home today.”

“You got it.” You salute at him, watching his cheeks flush pink as he ducks down for another kiss. 

“I gotta keep my girl hydrated.” He murmurs against your hair, sliding a warm palm down your shoulder.

“If I’m doing it, you have to, too.” You say, pointedly looking over at his empty coffee mug. “Is that all you’ve had to drink this morning?”

He looks sheepish as he goes to get and fill his own water bottle. 

“Now, I want that finished by the time you get home today.” You use his earlier words, but there’s such a fondness swimming in your eyes that Bradley can’t even find it in himself to tease you.

“Thanks baby, I’ll see you later.”

three

When you get to work and open your laptop, a tiny sticky note flutters out. The yellow paper falls into your lap and reach for it with a smile on your face.

In Rooster’s familiar scrawl, you read the note:

You shoot him a text, telling him you can’t wait with a smiley face. Ever since you told him early in your relationship that you like when he plans dates, he’s been going all out. Your favorite is the notes he leaves you, or the Google Calendar events he sends you to RSVP. 

And sometimes when you go out, he comes home with flowers and nerves of a first date, smiling as he kisses your cheek.

He’s so cute.

four 

Bradley, to your surprise, is an excellent cook. He loves to find new recipes—and learn ones you love—and cook for you. You cook as well, but if he’s home and has time, he usually wants to do it.

You’re always there to “help” him, which usually consists of stealing ingredients to snack on, and wrapping your arms around his waist.

But one thing Bradley always does, no matter what, is the dishes. Even when you claim, “you cooked, so I clean up!” He brushes you off, usually telling you to pick dessert and a movie to watch. 

As far as you can tell, he doesn’t love washing the dishes, but he always does it without complaining. And you don’t remember the small comment you once made about hating to wash dishes, but he remembers, and that’s why he makes sure that you don’t even have to go near the sink after a meal.

 + one extra

In the early hours of the morning, you can’t fall back asleep, and you don’t want to, not until he’s gone. You want to soak up every moment with him. You’re on the bathroom counter, watching as he runs through his morning routine. After he washes his face, he pulls out his shaving cream and razor. He sets it on the marble counter with a light tap, rubbing his hand comfortingly, up your thigh.

There’s sleep still prominent on his face, and in the corners of his eyes. You reach up to cup his jaw, studying his peaceful features.

When he reaches for the razor, you grab his wrist. “Can I do it?”

“You wanna shave my face?” He wonders, lips quirking up in an endeared smile.

You nod. “You’re always doing things for me, so let me do this for you.”

His heart leaps in his chest. “Go ‘ahead baby.” 

You set the razor down, using the legs you have wrapped around his waist to tug him closer. After squirting a generous amount of shaving cream into your palm, you carefully spread it over the lower half of Bradley’s face—careful to avoid his mustache.

You’re over careful with the razor, taking firm but slow strokes of the blade down his cheeks and chin. You use a warm washcloth to wipe the residual shaving cream and then lean back to admire your work. Fondness dances in Bradley’s eyes, his hands on your waist, and he doesn’t even notice that you’ve finished.

Once he’s collected himself, he makes eye contact, raising an eyebrow.

“You missed a spot.” He jokes, gesturing to his mustache.

“That’s not even funny babe,” You give him a stern look. “You can’t shave that off.”

“Ever?”

You shake your head. “If you lose the stache, you lose me, sorry stud.” You giggle at your joke, watching his warm eyes dance with amusement.

He gasps, feigning shock as he hits his hand to his heart. “Guess I’m keeping the mustache.”

“Yeah, you are, baby.” You lean forward to peck his lips.

© witchwyfe 2022. absolutely no reposting, translating, or modifying, even with credit.

[dreamauri]

𝟮 𝗔𝗦𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗟𝗘𝗦 𝗜𝗡 𝗦𝗡𝗢𝗪 ─ ୨୧ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ :🪴: ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ୨୧ ─ ╮ ┇after crash landing to protect your ┇teammate, Rooster. He follows suit and ┇you are ready to have a word with him. ┇︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦˚₊   ┇ . 🌿 :: pairing — ( bradley bradshaw  x  fem! pilot! reader ) ┇ . 🫧 :: ⁠genre — ( angst)  ┇ . 🌿 :: ⁠word count — ( 750 ) ╰ 🫧  :: ⁠ content warning — ( minor violence )

★ ☆ ik its very out of character of me to do something not f1 but . . . thought i'd give top gun a try. planes are nice too. NOTE that the reader's callsign is lucifer ━━━━

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“What the hell, Bradley?!“ “What do you mean: What the hell? I saved your life.” Bradley shouted back, anger evident in both of your voices. May god give you the strength to not beat the shit out of him. “You saved my life, my ass. Now we’re both stuck here! What is wrong with you?!—” you went to push him, in hopes of letting some of your anger out only for him to grab your wrists and stop you.

“I love you!” He shouted, loudly and angrily to scare the few birds that were around. “That’s what’s wrong with me. My heart beats for you.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, silence enveloping the both of you. Nothing around you but the few trees and the apparent endless terrain of snow. You glared at him up and down, trying to understand him, to decipher him like you do with the others. But Bradley wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t any book that you could open and read. “I would never forgive myself if something bad happened to you.”

“You are the most wonderful-” “No, no.” You waved him off trying to turn around and leave. Keyword, try. Bradley had a hold of your left wrist, pulling you back. “Most amazing, most caring, most beautiful, and pleasant and the most amazing—” He continued listing adjectives aggressively as you continued to try and wriggle out and free yourself from his grasp.

“Don’t you hear me, Lucifer? I love you.” “No!” You shouted back, managing to break free only for him to grab you from your shirt, fisting it and holding you close to him, slightly lifting you up so you can be closer to his eye level. “I love you. And I want to marry you. I want to wake up and go to sleep by your side every morning and night, I want to have kids with you, I want to hear your voice everyday, I want to grow old with you, I want you to be the last thing I hear, I touch, I see before I die. Hell, I want to die in your arms!”

“No!” You shouted in his face pushing against his chest, tears beginning to sting your eyes. “You want the same exact thing. Don’t lie to me. You love me, Y/N.” You couldn’t shake how your name sounded on his lips. The first time you’ve heard him say it. And you hated how you wanted to hear it spill from his mouth again.

“You love me, just like I love you.” “We’re both going to die here just because you can’t keep your dick in your pants!” “I’ll cut off my dick if you want me to! But you’re too much of a coward to even look me in my eyes.” That set you off, with a punch straight to his face. “I’m not a coward.” Bradley was shocked for sure, stumbling back and falling on his ass, gripping his nose in pain. The snow cushioned his landing as he looked up at you through his eyebrows, his anger fading slightly. 

“I can’t love you.” You looked down at him with a sigh. “I just can’t. You have more to live for than wasting your time with a stupid, air force, suicidal, workaholic, shitty maniac like me.” 

The silence stretched out for a few minutes before you finally gave in and held out your hand to pull him to his feet. You indeed couldn’t look him in his eyes. Oh, his eyes. How you hated them. How they made him look so—. . . so . . . 

You didn’t even realize what you were doing, pulling him from his collar and smashing your lips on his. Bradley didn’t even hesitate to caress the back of your head, leaning deeper into the kiss with his eyes closed. You could feel how fast his heart was pounding in his chest. How he hoped that this moment would never end. But it had to.

“There’s a house one and a half kilometers south from here. You’ll get there before dark if you start walking now. The lady that lives there is nice, she’ll help you.” Bradley glares at you as you start walking back to his crashed f-18. “And what are you going to do?” He scoffed.

“They’re going to start looking for the pilot. If they don’t find me, they’ll keep looking.” “Hell, no-” “Go.” “No! I’m not leaving without you.” “Bradshaw, that is a command. Go. Right now.” 

[disturbedbeautywrites]

Take it out on me - Bradley Rooster Bradshaw

Smut ahead! 18+ only, minors DNI

Warnings: smut, cursing, praise, p in v, oral (female receiving) , i think that's all. Just smutty smut smut

I’m out at the bar and I’m bored and lonely. I’m coming over. Be there in 5.

Your name popped up on Bradley’s phone as the text came through. He wished he could say that he was surprised you were sending him that text at midnight, but this had become a routine for the two of you. The two had met in high-school and instantly clicked, becoming the absolute best of friends. You two were inseparable and that continued even as he went into the navy. However, once you started dating a new guy, Rooster started noticing some things he didn’t like. You were talking to him less and coming around less. You could never hangout without your boyfriend tagging along. It gave him a bad feeling and lately he had been sensing he was right; especially on late night visits like this.

A knock at the door knocked him out of his thoughts as he walked into the living room, making sure there was a bottle of whiskey on his table for you. It was your drink of choice and you claimed it was because the alcohol burning hurt more than the emotional pain you were feeling. Yeah, Bradley was ready to beat this guy’s ass. He just wanted to okay from you first.

He walked over to the front door and opened it, his eyes falling onto you. Your hair and makeup were all done, telling him that you had in fact been out at the bar. Your legs were covered in goosebumps from the daisy-dukes that adorned them in the cold air, your breath showing as you stood in front of him. You weren’t crying this time, that was a good sign. He ran his eyes one more time over you, doing a mental triage as he leaned against the door frame.

“What is it this time?” Bradley’s voice came out gruff, something that made you raise your eyebrows. You didn’t answer and just pushed past him into the living room.  He closed the door and watched your figure as you got comfy on his couch, reaching for the bottle of whiskey that he kept on his side table just for you. You took a swig, looking around the living room. “Did you redecorate? It looks lovely in here. “

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t you dare bullshit me.” He was always straight to the point with you. You debated for a second, chewing on the inside of your cheek. You knew you weren’t ready to tell him yet, so you took another long swig of alcohol as you crossed your legs. “No, seriously. I think this pillow looks new.” Bradley let out a frustrated sigh as he ran his hand down his face, his eyes closed for a second before they snapped back open. “(Y/N).” It was only one word, but you felt it into your core, the expectant eyebrow raise making you sigh. “Fucking tell me.”

You ran your fingers down the glass bottle, following the grooves and label of the cool material. Your normally bright eyes now seemed tired and sad as you finally spoke up. “He’s being super controlling. He doesn’t want me to hang around you anymore.” You couldn’t help but feel shame bubble up in your stomach as you watched his jaw clench. “He’s trying to hold me down and take over every aspect of my life.” You didn’t want to stay still anymore, your legs picking you up as you started to pace slowly. You were periodically lifting the bottle to your lips, Rooster’s eyes watching you protectively to make sure you weren’t stumbling.

“I’ve told you how I feel about him many times already.” His words were curt and sharp, his eyes cutting into the glass bottle in your hands. “Look what he’s fucking doing to you.” He gestured to the alcohol and you chuckled darkly, shaking your head. “He isn’t directly causing me to drink. It just numbs everything.” Bradley ran a hand over his lips, running his tongue over them as he decided to tread lightly with his next words. “I think you should dump him.”

You stopped walking, your body turning to face him. Your eyebrows furrowed together in confusion as you held your hand up, clearly trying to process his words. “Why should I do that?” Your words were now getting slightly slurry, though you were holding your liquor fairly well given the situation. His eyes raked over you as he debated on what he was about to say. He finally decided to say fuck it and walked into the kitchen, grabbing a beer and taking a swig before he rejoined you.

“Why should you dump him?  Because I’m done pretending I’m not absolutely crazy about you and that you don’t deserve better than that asshole.” Bradley’s voice was deep and low as he walked towards you, your steps matching him as you backpedaled. You went until your back hit the wall, his larger body towering over you as he put his hand on the wall above your head.

The whiskey on your breath was mixing with the beer on his as your chest started to move up and down at a more rapid pace. You were getting lost in his eyes when your phone ringing disturbed the moment, your boyfriends name popping up on the caller ID. Bradley expected you to answer it and repeat the pattern the two of you had fallen into. You came over when your boyfriend was being stupid, you would vent, drink, then always go back to him the second you were sobering up.

But this time, you didn’t answer. You sat there and pressed the decline button, Bradley’s eyes watching your every move intently. As he watched you slip your phone back into your back pocket he couldn’t help but smirk at you. Finally, he got you to come to your senses. With that gesture, he allowed his lips to attach to yours with a satisfied grunt. “Time to show you how you should be worshipped.”

You deepened the kiss and moved to wrap your arms around Bradley’s neck, his hands coming down to rest on your ass. His calloused fingers brushed against the rough denim of your shorts, mumbling for you to jump before he picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He leaned you against the wall as his lips worked against yours, slowly moving to kiss down your jawline and down your neck. “I’m going to dump him tomorrow.” The words were breathless as you let out a soft whimper, the whiskey bottle dropping from your hands as your fingers moved to ball up his shirt. “Good girl.” The words made your breath hitch in your throat as you let out a soft moan.

He was loving your reactions to him, his body trapping you against the wall as one of his hands made its way up to caress your breast as he pulled your lips to his again. You kissed him desperately, soft whimpers of pleasure and neediness leaving your lips. Your chest was starting to heave and you started to feel yourself getting wet. “Bradley.. I need you..” Your words were soft and caused him to smirk as he moved to lay you down on the couch. He yanked your shorts down your legs, his hands running up your thighs hungrily as you watched him through hooded eyes.

“I got you, baby.” His eyes were soft as he watched you, sliding your panties down and sliding one finger inside of you. You let out a soft gasp at the feeling, your head falling back as he started to finger you slowly. You let moans escape your lips as he slowly added another finger, causing you to arch your back and grasp at the couch cushions. “Let me hear you.” He stopped moving his fingers, leaving them inside of you as he waited. “Please.. don’t stop. Feels so good..” You whimpered and tried to get some relief as you moved your hips. He shook his head and pulled his fingers out, scooting down so his face was even with your pussy. “Bad girls get punished.”

At his words you could feel yourself start to get drenched, his breath fanning over your exposed slick as you let out a desperate whine. “Please, roo.” The nickname you had for him went straight through him, hearing how breathy and desperate you sounded as you said it. It instantly caused him to get rock hard, one of his hands moving down to rub himself through his sweatpants. You watched as he slowly let his tongue out from between his lips, letting it run up and down your exposed pussy as he tasted you. It caused your hips to buck up, a strangled cry sounding out. He chuckled and moved his free hand up to your stomach, holding you down against the couch. As he was eating you out, he could hear you starting to whimper louder and more desperately. You were whining about how close you were, your hands tangling in his hair. “Come for me, baby girl.” You did just that, screaming out as your release coated his tongue and his lips, a satisfied grin on his face as he came back up to your level.

He pressed his lips against yours as you reached down for his sweatpants, rubbing his cock through the thin fabric. He pushed down the pants and his boxers, his cock springing up against his stomach. Your eyes widened at how big he was, a smirk evident on his lips. How had you and rooster never done this before? You weren’t sure, but you knew this would not be the last time. He spread your legs with his hand and slowly pressed his cock inside of you. You let out a gasp as you adjusted to his size, your eyes squeezing shut. For a few seconds you felt pain until he started to slowly move, his eyes locking with yours.

The pain turned into pleasure soon enough, his hand coming up to lace with yours. “Keep your eyes on me.” His thrusts started to get faster as you kept your eyes on his. It was hard for you to maintain the contact, the pleasure shooting straight through you as you repeatedly moaned out his name. You had good sex before, but never this good. Rooster knew what he was doing, that was for sure. “Roo, I’m not gonna last long.” Your words were quiet and he nodded, his thrusts speeding up. “I’m close too..” His voice was a deep grunt as he felt you start to spasm around him, a long moan escaping your lips. He felt his thrusts start to get sloppy as he came after you, sweat dripping down his forehead as he laid down against you.

He was careful to not put his full weight on you, a chuckle leaving his lips as he looked up at you. “Well, that happened.” His words caused you to roll your eyes as you reached down for his discarded shirt, putting it on yourself. “It did, and I’m staying the night because I fully expect round 2 in the morning.” At your words, Rooster couldn’t help but groan and nod. He bit his lip as he pressed his lips to yours again. “Yes ma’am.”

Taglist: @allivingstone01 @atarmychick007 @ginger-gabsq @fandomxpreferences

[talkfastromance4]

Bradley’s Butterfly–Bradley Bradshaw oneshot

Warnings: panic/anxiety attack

Word count: 2.3k

Reblogs, comments, asks, mean the world! I love to hear your thoughts💕

Enjoy!

Bradley’s always been known for being observant, even at a young age he liked to watch those around him. His ears would perk up on conversations from couples fighting over what to have for dinner or a heated phone call from a man in a sleek suit. He liked to watch people in their natural form, study them, and be aware of his surroundings.

Everyone knew it, too. He’d pick up on subtle things that no one else seemed to really notice. Like how Bob mentioned his great Aunt Sylvie who he called ‘Aunt Sissy’ because he couldn’t quite say her name when he was younger. Bradley was the first to ask how his Aunt Sissy was after Bob had to rush home quickly for a family emergency.

He knows Hangman checks his gear three times before entering his cockpit and that Phoenix whispers a prayer her grandma would always sing to her before a mission. He notices small things that have a huge impact on those he cares about.

Being as observant as he is, Bradley was the first one to notice you as the new bartender Penny hired. He noticed right away how cute you were but also how meticulous you were when making a drink or pouring a shot. You had a good eye for precision and always picked up a crumpled napkin or one of the many discarded toothpicks Hangman left throughout the bar.

He noticed how your eyes would always meet his whenever he entered The Hard Deck. He noticed you noticing him and it always left a little flutter of warmth in his chest. You had all of the Dagger Squad’s drink orders memorized, you even played along with Hangman’s folly when he tried to trick you on his drink order.

One Tuesday after a grueling training session and 400 push-ups in the hot sun, Bradley really needed a drink so he headed to the bar. On top of the beating sun there was a dry wind that blew sand and dirt all over the place. Everything was dry and desolate because it’s been nearly a month without rain.

He fell onto the barstool heavily, his head pounding, muscles in his neck and shoulders screamed whenever he moved.

“Rough day?” you ask, voice soft as you set a glass of Blue Moon in front of him with an orange slice.

“Oh yeah,” he huffs. He winces when he leans forward on the bar to place his hand around the glass, it’s ice cold and feels refreshing when he takes a drink. He sighs wiping the foam from his mustache then tips the glass in your direction. “Thanks for this, it was very needed.”

“You’re welcome,” you smile sweetly and plop a white bowl full of orange slices next to his glass. The backs of your knuckles barely graze his fingertips but he feels an electric spark. “I’ll make sure to keep the oranges coming.”

You stayed true to your word. Bradley ate the slices you provided and had a few more Blue Moon’s just as the dinner rush was starting. He took that time to watch the way you were with other customers. You called them all by name, asked about their day and always had a smile on your face.

Bradley ordered some food as well and just as he finished up his loaded BLT, the rest of the squad strutted in laughing and smiling to a joke Fanboy probably made. They made a beeline for Bradley, he saw your eyes glide over the grown group and it tickled him pink when you grabbed him a fresh glass and orange before working on their drinks.

She remembered Bob’s cup of trail mix and handed Hangman a toothpick.

“Thanks darlin’,” Hangman grins. Instead of using his fingers to grab the toothpick, he closed his mouth around it then winked at you.

Bradley’s tickled pink trickled into a sea of red anger but you only laughed and rolled your eyes before turning your attention back on Bradley.

“I made some brownies, would you like one for dessert? Free of charge,” your smile was dazzling.

“A brownie sounds so good right now,” Bradley nods, watching you duck under the bar and skip to the back room where the office area is.

You come back with the square treat on a napkin, powdered sugar is sprinkled on top.

“Bradshaw!” Phoenix shouts from the billiards. She waves him over when he looks over his shoulder.

“Duty calls,” he sighs and rises from his stool.

“Kick Hangman’s ass,” you laugh. You clean up his plate of food.

“Will do. Thanks for the brownie,” he lifts it in appreciation. He’s glad he’s turned away when he takes the first bite because his face melts and a groan slips out. This is the best brownie he’s ever had. It’s the perfect amount of gooey with the ends a little hard.

With more beer and food in his system, Bradley’s body relaxes as the night lingers on. He’s just finished taking a celebratory shot with Phoenix after winning their pool game when an obnoxious group of Marines enter in with the saloon doors banging against the walls.

They stumble against the bar shouting for attention from any of the bartenders and Bradley is watching silently from his corner. You’re on the opposite side of the bar helping and chatting with a pair of girls but they’re shouting your name. Bradley watches as you turn upon hearing your name and hold up your hand motioning you’ll be right with them.

When one of them whistles at you that’s when Bradley starts to move.

Being 6’ 1” has its advantages because his height makes it easy to walk through people, they step out of his way easily. He’s at the bar next to the group of Marines as one of them whistles again, his brown eyes slide to you. He sees the way your shoulders tense up, how your hand perches perfectly on your waist when you turn around.

“Excuse me, I am not a dog you can whistle at,” you defend, your voice bristling as you approach the unruly group.

“It got you over here, baby,” one of them jeers.

Bradley notices how your eyes flick to the bell Penny has behind the bar and he hopes you ring it. He’d love nothing more than to toss these imbeciles out of the bar and away from you.

“I’ll get your pitchers of beer and you can go sit somewhere else. I have other customers,” you shake your head.

Bradley stays near you for the rest of the night, keeping a watchful eye on the Marines who were causing a ruckus by the gaming area. Bradley’s skin prickled when one of them slung an arm around Bob but Hangman intervened quickly with a hard shove and an even harder look. Javy joined him looking equally as intense and they backed off.

“What jerks,” you mutter behind him.

He turns his attention back to you, you’re glaring at the group as you wipe down glasses.

“Yeah, they’re full of shit,” Bradley agrees. “I was hoping you’d ring the bell so I could toss ‘em out for ya.”

“I definitely thought about it,” your eyes are still glued on them. “If they whistle at me again you have my full permission to dump ‘em in the sand. Thanks for standing by while they were here.”

“Of course. Gotta watch out for my favorite bartender,” he grins.

One of the Marines wouldn’t let up and tried to get you to play pool with them but you kept shaking your head. Slowly, the patrons began to leave and the Daggers bid farewell to Bradley and you in pairs.

The alcohol was starting to wear off in Bradley, his bones were starting to ache again and his bed was calling his name. He’d just finished signing his tab and pocketed his card when you approached with a bag over your shoulder.

“Hey Bradley? Would you mind walking me to my car?” you ask shyly, eyes shifting to the group of Marines that are still there. “That one has been trying to get me over there all night.”

“I don’t mind at all,” he shakes his head. “I was going to offer anyway since it’s so late. You got everything you need?”

“Yeah,” you nod clutching your bag tight to your chest.

He motions you ahead of him, his hand hovering over the middle of your back and he tosses a look over his shoulder. The one that called you ‘baby’ was watching in disdain and Bradley nodded at him with a slight smirk before leading you out the bar.

The heat is still in the air outside, sweat appearing instantly on both of your skin. Bradley follows you towards your car which is parked right next to his–not that he planned that or anything.

“Thanks for walking me,” you sigh. “Most of the time I love this gig but guys like that make my blood boil.”

“You and me both,” he nods. You unlock your door and open it. “Have a good night, drive safe.”

“You too. I should have given you more water.”

“I’ll be fine,” he waves it off, “not too far to go.”

He watches you buckle and settle before peeling out of the parking lot and he’s walking on air.

***

It’s three weeks later when Bradley comes to your rescue again. It’s Live Mic Friday where a local cover band is performing and it’s packed. The group of Marines are also in attendance and Bradley makes sure they keep their berth from you.

The music is good and the energy from the crowd is catching, he’s buzzing from having a good time with his friends but then the music stops suddenly and the house lights turn on. There’s some sort of tousle happening near the bar and Bradley rushes as quickly as he can through the sardined crowd.

You’re safe by the high top tables but the tray of glasses you were holding have slipped onto the floor in a million little pieces. Your eyes are wide as you stare at the Marines swearing and shouting in fits of rage. Your hand is shaking as you bring it to your chest, mouth open gasping for air.

Bradley is by your side, your quick gasps pierce his heart as you try to settle your breathing but it’s not working. Your eyes are wide and panicked and he knows exactly what’s going on.

“Let’s get outside,” he ducks his head to yours and ushers you out.

You’re still gasping, hands shaking even more as you try to touch each finger to your thumbs.

“Here, c’mere and sit,” he says pulling up one of the patio chairs but you shake your head. “It doesn’t help?”

“N-n-n–”

“Okay, no sitting. Place your hands like this–” he lifts your trembling hands to your chest, thumbs overlapping so they’re like a butterfly. “Good. Now, watch me, y/n.”

He mirrors his hands like yours waiting until your tear rimmed eyes focus on his hands. Bradley starts to alternately tap his fingers on his shoulders. It takes you a moment but you start to tap your shoulders as well, still gasping for air.

“Good, that’s so good, honey,” he encourages. “Keep doing that in time with me.”

There’s a loud noise from inside and it makes you flinch.

“Keep tapping. Did you know there’s a huge burn mark in the ceiling of the office? Yeah, I did that on my twenty-first birthday. I somehow created an alcoholic bomb of vodka, lighter fluid and a lighter. Hangman didn’t believe I could do it. I still don’t know how I did it, I failed Chemistry when I took it.”

Your lips trembled as your breath started to steady, your fingers kept tapping in time with his. Each tap helped you focus on the things around you and not the heavy weight on your chest or the panic in your mind that the world was going to crumble around you.

Bradley kept telling stories of his youth, how he got into a terrible accident and he now has scars from it. When your breathing is back to normal, the whole ordeal left you exhausted and you collapsed into the chair Bradley first offered you. He pulls one up in front of you, his warm brown eyes studying you and he places a gentle but firm hand on your knee.

“Okay?” he asks.

“Getting there,” you nod and wipe the tears from your eyes. “That helped a lot…thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I don’t know why it even started. I heard the shouting and it–it just hit me,” you shake your head.

“Your body’s way of preventing something bad from happening,” he shrugs, “panic attacks just appear sometimes and it’s okay.”

“How’d you know I was having one? And to do that tapping thing?”

“I had a lot of panic attacks after my dad died. I tried all of the centering techniques…box breathing, counting backwards, pointing out things I see and feel. This was what really worked, it’s called butterfly tapping,” he explains.

“Oh,” you exhale and close your eyes.

“How’s your heart?”

“Still racing,” you whisper. He starts to tap your knee with his thumb and you focus on the weight of his hand on you.

You sit out there for fifteen minutes as he helps center you.

“There, that’s better,” he smiles. You exhale deeply.

“Much better. Thank you, Bradley.”

“Let’s get out of here. I know a diner that has the best sundaes.”

“I need to finish working–”

“Does Penny know you get panic attacks?” he asks and you nod. “I’ll text her that I’m taking care of you. C’mon, we’ll go around.”

He holds out his hand. You slip yours in his, noting how rough and smooth they are at the same time. He’s also warm and you have butterflies the whole time he holds your hand to his Bronco and on the drive to the diner. You’ll have to remember Bradley’s butterfly the next time a panic attack appears.

[kte-alxxndr]

Reblogging because I'm a sucker for angst ✨

Love to Lie - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader (Part 1) / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 (Final Part)

Summary: Your worst fear is recognized when Bradley’s jet goes down with him in it. You’re not sure why you’re still his emergency contact, you’d broken up two weeks ago, but when you rush into the hospital room, you discover that you have a chance to fix the mistake you’d been cursing yourself for. The only problem is, you have to lie to Bradley, and you discover that you love doing it if it means you get to be with him again.

Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, Mitchell!reader, angst, angst with a fluffy/happy ending, amnesia trope, hospitals and their subsequent medical details, memory loss, goose and carole are still alive because i say so

WC: 11.3K / navigation / inbox

A/N: thank you to everyone who has encouraged me in my development of this series! it's three parts long, and each part will be posted one week after the one before it. that means you get chapter 2 next week, and chapter 3 two weeks from now. and after chapter 3 is released, i will post the full fic in one single post, so that it's easier to read. this series means a lot to me, it's the longest fic I've ever finished for this account, and I would really love to hear what you think of it. Thank you to the love of my life miss jade (@luveline), for being the first person to read this (!!), and for all of your wonderful feedback that cheered me on as I crossed the finish line for this series. I don't think I would have finished it if it wouldn't have been for your support, so thank you sweetpea <3

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

It’s 11:14 AM when you get the call. Your phone buzzes ballistically beneath your pillow, where you’d stuffed it haphazardly last night somewhere close to 4 AM. For the record, you’d only slept because your eyes hurt from being open for so long. You’re certain that, after what you’d done, you deserved to ache for eternity, but you’d succumbed to sleep when it pulled hard enough at you.

Raising the phone to your ear is a chore, especially because the number on the screen is unrecognizable, but you stretch your tired, bed-ridden limbs and hold the cool glass screen to your face. It’s jarring, and you long for the stuffy warmth of the pillow again.

“Hello?”

“Miss Y/N Mitchell?” It’s a man’s voice, deep and strong through the receiver. It’s no-nonsense, and you almost worry that you’ve misfiled your taxes, that someone from the IRS is tracking you down.

“That’s me,” You rub sleep out of your left eye, harder than necessary so that your vision is blurry when you open your eye again. You’re not very gentle with yourself these days.

“You’re listed as an emergency contact for Mr. Bradley Bradshaw. He’s currently a patient at the Naval Medical Center in San Diego. He was brought in at 9:37 AM this morning when his jet malfunctioned mid-exercise, and he crashed into a canyon below.”

Your heart stops. 

Your cheeks get hot, your hands start to tingle, and your stomach feels like it’s going to start turning cartwheels, sloshing your insides around until you vomit what little you’ve eaten.

Bradley’s dead, you think, Bradley’s dead, Bradley’s dead, Bradley’s dead.

“We were able to airlift him out, and he’s stabilized now-” Bradley’s not dead,  “-but he’s still unconscious. His parents are here, as well as your father, if you’d like to join them.”

It takes a long time for you to speak. It’s almost a full minute, and the man on the other end has to call your name to get you to respond.

“Miss Mitchell?”

“I’ll be there,” You blurt, heaving a shaky breath as you seal a hand over your mouth. You part your fingers only to make sure he hears you clearly as you confirm, “He’s alive?”

“Yes, he’s alive and stable.” The man informs you, “He’ll recover, Miss Mitchell.”

Bradley’s not dead. Bradley’s not dead. Bradley’s not dead.

“I’ll be there,” You repeat, and for the first time in almost 36 hours, you kick the crappy motel blankets off of your legs and stand, “Thank you, sir.”

--

Wearing a bra again after two weeks of lazing around in bed is awful. But you’ll do it for Bradley, if only to make up for the last thing you’d said to him.

“I can’t love you anymore!” Rings in your ears, and a vision of Bradley’s hands reaching desperately for you flashes through your mind, covering up the green light ahead of you.

Someone honks behind you, a BMW. You jolt to attention, stepping on the gas and jerking into the intersection.

Easy, you chide yourself, You’re going to the hospital to visit a patient, not to be one.

You’re able to pull into the hospital’s parking lot without nearly causing any more car crashes, and you briefly wonder if you should take the coward’s way out again as you trek over the asphalt towards the hospital. You’d run two weeks ago, why not now? Why not now, when what you’d been worried about that night has actually happened?

Urged by the regret flooding your veins since fleeing, you walk on, stepping through the automatic doors of the hospital and sidling up to the reception desk.

“I’m here to see Bradley Bradshaw,” You inform the nurse there, “Uh- Lieutenant. If that… helps.”

She sends you a kind smile, filled with sympathy that you’re thankful for as you stammer and stumble your way through speaking. You’re sure you’re not the most distraught person here, and you’re guiltily thankful for that. 

“Room 624,” The nurse tells you, and oh, what a sick coincidence, “Down the hall and to the left, take the elevator up and follow the arrows on the floor.”

6/24 is not only Bradley’s birthday, but your anniversary; the day you’d kissed him on the swings in his backyard with hot fudge sticking to your lips. He’d been glum about his dad missing his birthday on deployment, and, of course, your dad couldn’t be there either. Carole had done her best to brighten up her boy, but some things couldn’t be mended with gift wrap, and you all knew that.

You’d snuck out to join him that night with a sundae, offering him the serving spoon thickly coated in the chocolate. He’d accepted it with a huffy eye roll, upset that you’d managed to cheer him up even a little bit with just one spoon of ice cream.

--

“It sucks,” Bradley mutters around the chocolate in his mouth, the syrup sticking his words together, “I know he can’t do anything about it. But I still want him here.”

“I know,” You hum, taking a bite of ice cream for yourself, “I’m sorry, Brad. If it makes you feel any better, he’ll probably get you something, like, really good when he gets back. He’ll feel all guilty, that’s what my dad did and I got a puppy out of it.”

“We’ve already got a puppy,” Bradley gestures to the Bradshaw’s family dog, well on in years by the gray around his muzzle and his tendency to nap instead of move.

“Maybe you’ll get one that you can actually play with,” You offer Bradley another bite of the ice cream, and you only feel a little bad for making fun of Lewis. But the dog doesn’t understand your teasing, softly snoring on the porch.

“Maybe he’ll get me a car,” Bradley gushes, “A bitchin’ one, like a Bronco or something. Then we can put our surfboards in the back and go to the beach.”

“You don’t even have a license!” You elbow Bradley, laughing at his lofty dreams, “But a Bronco would be cool. You should send your dad a magazine clipping of one with your next letter and talk about how cool it is.”

“You’re smarter than you look,” Bradley muses, a smear of chocolate over his lower lip that he doesn’t lick away.

You scoff, stomping on his foot where it’s planted in the grass beside your own. He jolts away with a yelp, and in doing so, jerks the swing he’s sitting on, He catches his balance and you notice the syrup on his lip, reaching out to clean it with your thumb.

“You’ve got hot fudge on your face, doofus,” You sneer, happy to return his teasing, “You eat like a toddler.”

“I’m not the one who put three cups of it on the sundae!” Bradley insists, and his lower lip catches your thumb as he speaks. Teenagers in love, you’re hyperaware of touches like that, and your breath hitches in your throat at the contact. He notices it too, staring down wide-eyed at where your thumb hovers over his lips.

“Sorry,” He blurts, and in doing so, his warm breath fans over your hand. You jerk it away, eyes on the ground as you mumble away his concerns.

“It’s fine,” You mutter in a terrible attempt to remain nonchalant, “We’re not four, it’s not like I think you’ve got cooties or something.’

Bradley takes to the teasing, glad it’s not tense anymore, “That’s not what you say when I leave my underwear on the floor.”

“‘Cause that’s gross!” You launch into a rant, “That’s, like, personal! And they’re used too,” You shudder, handing him the sundae intent on scrubbing a hand over your face, “Nasty, bro.”

Despite your casual nickname for the boy beside you, you feel like anything but bros when his hand brushes yours. He takes the ice cream from you, and his hand half-closes around your own, sending a spark shooting up your spine.

Your breath catches in your throat again and this time Bradley hears it, looking at you through his lashes with those wide brown eyes.

Neither of you move away this time, frozen just like the treat in your joint grip.

You feel extra affection for the boy next to you today, the shared grief of losing your fathers every few months bringing you closer together. It’s what compels you to lean in, tilting your swing sideways to brush your lips over his own in a painfully awkward teenage-style kiss. Before you have the time to panic about whether you did the right thing, Bradley reciprocates, pursing his lips slightly to fit them around your top one. You follow his lead and it goes much better, a chaste kiss that’s sweeter than the chocolate staining your lips.

--

You’re glad you’d kissed him that day, you’re glad you had the balls to take the leap that resulted in a nearly twenty year long relationship. It would have been twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-five, fifty if you hadn’t chickened out two weeks ago, but you try not to think about that in the elevator lest you make yourself sick.

You find room 624 easily, the painted arrows on the floor leading you down the hallway that the room stands in. You wonder if you should knock first, you’re not too knowledgeable on hospital etiquette, but you decide that manners can be damned, your boyfriend- ex-boyfriend is in there.

You turn the handle and step inside, and Carole looks up from Bradley’s bedside immediately. You think she’s expecting a doctor, and her desperation for finding one breaks your heart. Her teary face splits into a sad smile, and she rushes to your side to envelop you in a hug. You let her have it because she’s grieving over her son, but you’re surprised she’s not immediately angry with you for breaking up with Bradley.

“Honey,” She gushes into your shoulder, “Oh, honey, I’m so glad you��re here! Brad’s gonna be okay, they said he’s just gonna need some help breathing until he gets stable. Then they can get him healthy and ready to go again!”

“That’s great,” You hold her close, relishing the last Bradshaw hug you’ll probably ever get, “Where’s Nick and dad?”

“Oh, they went to get food,” Carole releases you, swatting her hand in the air in an affectionately teasing manner, “You know those boys, always hungry for something.”

You laugh awkwardly, watching as she settles down by Bradley’s bedside again. She looks back up at you where you’re swaying on your feet, gesturing to the chair beside her, “Well come on, girl! Get in here!” She seems much more lively now that she has company, and you hate to think of her grieving her injured son alone.

“Oh- I, uh,” You stammer, darting for the seat beside her, “I wasn’t sure if-”

“Don’t worry,” She seems to misplace your concern, “He’s okay, sweetie-pie, you won’t hurt him just by breathin’ on him.”

“Right,” You smile, though its disingenuous with tension, “Um, so it was a mid-exercise crash?”

“Mhm,” Her face dims slightly, “Apparently there was some freak accident with one of the engines, 'set off the whole thing. And that’s two crashes in one week! First it was that Javy boy, I tell you, I think they should vet those engineers better. I mean, aren’t they supposed to catch that stuff beforehand?”

“Yeah,” You feel partially numb, but you’re not sure whether it’s emotional or physical. You’ve been trying to avoid looking at Bradley so far, using his bubbly, bouncing mom as a distraction, but now that the blonde has settled beside you your eyes drift. 

He could be perceived as sleeping, if the color wasn’t drained from his face. His skin is still tan but it’s duller now, golden brown fading to a sickly, colder shade of it, like there’s no life beneath it. His eyes are shut and there’s a breathing tube up his nose; you wonder how pissed he’ll be when he wakes up to find out they’ve had to trim his mustache around the thing.

“Must be a Bradshaw family tradition,” Carole breaks your concentration, laughing weakly, her voice lined with a hint of tears, “Crashing, scarin’ their girls half to death.”

You remember the day of Goose’s crash like it was yesterday. You’d only been three at the time, freshly so. But grief like that, the panic you’d observed, doesn’t go away. It can’t be forgotten, it can’t drift out of your brain like so many memories do with age. You and Bradley had sat together in the hospital with Carole and your dad, and Nick still had the crummy plane drawings you’d done for him while waiting for him to wake up.

Carole’s usage of the phrase ‘their girls’ unnerves you. She’s been exceptionally nice to you so far, especially considering that she’s fiercely protective of Bradley, and should have kicked you halfway to Mars for ditching him like you’d done. But she’s leaning towards you in her chair, and you come to the dreadful realization that she doesn’t know you’ve broken up with Bradley.

“Now, I know you wanted to keep things hush-hush,” She gushes, happy to look at your animated face instead of Bradley’s still one for a moment. She reaches over to brace her hands on your knees, leaning eagerly into your space, “But I have to know, babycakes, how did it go?”

“Hm?” You look dazedly at her, still partially staring at Bradley.

“The proposal!” She squeezes your hands, sniffling weakly with the remnants of tears past, “I know that boy was finally manning up enough to ask you, 'should'a put a ring on you years ago."

Any other time, you'd groan at Carole's opinion on your relationship. She's been urging the two of you to tie the knot for decades, but you'd felt no burning desire to go to the courthouse. You were comfortable in your life, why spend an obscene amount of money to get a piece of paper that tells you you're in love? You knew that for free, in the way that Bradley looked at you, in the way that he memorized all of your fast food orders, in the way that his hand so often found yours beneath the sheets in his sleep. Now her teasing is a sore spot, one that gapes the wound already bleeding in your chest.

"-But when I asked him how it went he said he’d ‘share the details later’. I’m sure you wanted to make some big announcement or something, but I need this right now, honey, tell me what happened.”

She’s staring at you like she always has, like you’re the sweet little girl she helped raise when your mama had chickened out. Cowardice must run in the family.

There’s such pretty hope shining in her eyes that you can’t bear to crush it, ready to spew lies about how glorious Bradley’s proposal had gone, how you’d fallen to your knees to kiss him, how you’d shouted ‘yes!’ from the rooftops. Fortunately, you don’t have to lie to her, because the door opens and your dad and Nick step through.

“Hey,” Your dad cheers, tossing you a plastic-wrapped sandwich, “There you are, honey. I was worried you weren’t gonna show up, ‘thought you’d be mad at him or something.”

“You know she was mad at me when we went down?” Goose gestures to Carole incredulously, and you can’t see behind his sunglasses but you know he’s addressing you, “I wasn’t even flying the damn thing and I got lectured!”

He lets up, goes easy on Carole, you’re sure because he’d had to comfort her earlier. You see a slightly dark, damp patch on the left side of his Hawaiian shirt as he leans in to hug you, probably her tears.

“Good to see ‘ya, kid,” Nick rubs your back, “You doin’ okay?”

“Yeah,” You nod, voice slightly shaky as you smooth your previously-folded hands down your thighs. The movement catches Carole’s attention, and you look away before you can see her reaction to your bare ring finger.

“He’ll be fine,” Goose leans over to slap Bradley’s calf, and Carole looks like she wants to scold him for it, as if he'll die right then and there, “He’s tough just like’is daddy.”

“His daddy should go get me some tea,” Carole huffs, placing her hand over Bradley’s as if it would make up for Nick’s slap, “And take Maverick with you, I don’t want you getting lost.”

“Oh, again-?” Goose grumbles, setting his lunch on one of the plastic chairs around Bradley’s bed, “You could’a told me that before we left, honey.”

“Didn’t want it until now,” Carole insists, “Now shoo, get some for Y/N, too.”

The second the door shuts behind the two men, a stiff silence falls over the room.

Carole’s sweet voice breaks it, but it’s the last thing you want to hear, “Where’s the ring?”

You stare at the sandwich in your lap, like it’ll open face and read like a book, giving you instructions on how to lie your way through this.

“I know he asked you,” She presses on, voice pitched up with tension, “I- I gave him the ring Nick used to propose to me. That was almost a month ago. We swapped it out for a wedding band, and- and I thought Bradley could use the engagement ring for you, too. I know he asked you.”

“Carole,” You can’t bear to look her in the eyes, not the woman who’d fed you macaroni and cheese when your dad was halfway around the world in a fighter jet and tucked you in extra tight during a rainstorm so that the lightning couldn't sneak through the gaps in the blankets to get you.

“No, tell me, where is the ring?” She raises her voice, the way she used to when Bradley would leave his scooter out in the rain to rust, “Just tell me-” Her voice peters out into a weak whimper, “-tell me you didn’t say no.”

“I’m a coward,” You finally mutter as her answer, hateful and wicked, “I got scared. I wish I’d said yes, really, I- I wish I could take it back, but-”

“What did you do?” Her face crumples at your admission and she nearly shrieks, squeezing her hand tighter over Bradley’s, “Y/N, what did you do?”

“I said no!” You sob, chest heaving as you wipe away a tear from your eye heavy-handed, “I was scared, Carole. After Coyote went down,” You blearily recall the last plane crash you’d heard about, a member of Bradley’s own squadron caught in a bird strike. He’d been fine, but waiting for the news took you right back to your youth, and you’d been hit with the striking realization that it could happen to Bradley, too. It could be you in that chair, it could be your love on the line. You’d been so sick with dread that you’d backed away altogether, running away to preserve your emotions.

“I just- I didn’t want it to happen to Bradley,” You confess, “I didn’t want it to happen to me. So when he asked, I was-” You sniffle, hard, “I was so scared. I didn’t want to marry him and then lose him. For some reason this-” You suppress a sob, throat aching and chest heaving, “-dating a pilot is different than marrying one. Dating is- it’s temporary, even if you plan on it lasting forever. It’s less serious, it’s not set in stone. But marriage-” You hiccup, “-marriage is the real deal. It's like- It's like I was dating Bradley, y'know, the teenage boy who took me to homecoming because I was sad no one asked me. But- but then all of a sudden I was marrying an aviator. And that’s- that was scary! That was real. I- we’d been together for twenty years!” You gush, wiping your nose with the back of your hand, “I should have known marriage wouldn’t be any different. It’s not like we ever thought we’d break up,” You sniffle weakly, “Marriage was always sort of silly to me, 'cause we just thought we'd be together forever regardless. But I never realized how real it would feel. So I- I freaked out. When he asked me, I made up some stupid excuse, and I chickened out! But-” Your chest heaves with a sob as you finally lift your eyes to Bradley, “He crashed anyway. He went down even though I said no, and it still hurts.” You cry, face scrunched in despair, “It hurts so bad, Carole, I didn’t think it would still hurt.”

“You fool,” She huffs exasperatedly, but she reaches out to clutch your hand like a lifeline. She’s holding Bradley’s with her other, and you wish for a moment that you could cut out the middleman and hold his hand on your own. You don't feel worthy to touch him anymore. “You don’t stop loving someone by leaving them, you stop loving them by moving on. Of course it still hurts, you didn't move on; you still love him. And- and leaving him didn’t stop him from getting hurt, it just meant he probably went down wishing he got to tell you he loved you this morning, so you'd know.”

The thought breaks you, Bradley ejecting with you on his mind. Evidently he hadn’t fully accepted your breakup, not if he hadn’t even told his mom about it. You wonder if he was planning on trying to get you back, if after work today he would have come over with flowers and a thousand pleas on his lips that you didn’t deserve.

“He loves you,” She continues, tears wetting her own cheeks, “And even if you did say somethin’ stupid, I don’t think there’s anything you could tell that boy that’d make him stop loving you. Apologize when he wakes up, baby, he’ll understand. He'll be hurt, no doubt. But he’s been scared before, too, believe me.”

“I will,” You gush, nodding as she squeezes your hand and Bradley’s in sync, “I will, I promise! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Just make it right,” She pleads, “Can’t have you two splittin’ up now, not after all this time.”

“I wish I hadn’t done it,” You weep, holding your hands to your eyes as if you can plug up the tears, “I- I just panicked! And I’ve been a wreck ever since, I- I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t-”

“Tea’s here!” The door opens, and Nick is suddenly a lot quieter as he sees you bent in half and crying, “Oh, honey.”

“C’mere,” Your dad edges around Goose, squatting by the side of your chair while Carole rubs your back. He’s always been fantastic at comforting you, which you marvel at because he was so active in his career. He wasn’t always around when you were little, but that didn’t stop him from knowing how you liked your back rubbed, your hair done, and your cookies warmed.

“He’s gonna wake up,” Your dad soothes you, wiping a tear away from your face, with the hand that isn’t rubbing your back, “Don’t worry, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay,” Carole promises, and you know she’s talking about something else entirely, “It’s alright honey, it’ll all work out.”

Nick feels a bit useless now, standing there with two cups of tea in his hands while everyone else comforts you, but he’s quick to notice a frown work its way onto Bradley’s sleeping face.

“Brad- hey! Look,” He gestures with one cup of tea, only spilling a tiny drop, “I think he’s wakin’ up.”

All of a sudden you want to go home. You’re not sure you can do this, you don’t belong here with his grieving family. You belong in your bed, kicking yourself for your cowardice and wishing you’d done better by him.

But there’s no time to flee now, not again. This time you have to brave it, you have to watch as his big brown eyes slowly blink open, a haze of sleep and medication clouding them over.

“Agh,” He groans, hand twitching by his side, “What-?”

“Hey, Bradley.” Nick leans over the bed, tea now set aside on a tiny table, “How y’feelin’ bud? You had quite the plane crash.”

Bradley takes a moment to observe his surroundings, blinking blearily at your dad, then you, then his mom. His eyes drift back over to you and they feel like they’re lasers, boring searing holes through your chest where your heart used to be two weeks ago.

The slow and steady beeping that had been long since tuned out slowly started to increase while Bradley regained consciousness. Your dad looked warily at the machine, watching Bradley’s heart rate rise.

“I’ll get a doctor.” He ducks out, and Carole stands.

“We should go,” She grabs Nick’s hand, looking pointedly at you, “We’ll give you a minute alone with him, honey.”

Nick starts to protest about being led away, something about how ‘-he came outta my balls! I can’t see him when he wakes up in the hospital?’ but Carole’s already corralling him to the nurse’s station in search of your father. If you weren’t so fond of the woman you’d be cursing her for sticking you alone with Bradley, but you know you can’t let yourself succumb to fear again; this time you have to be a big girl.

“Baby,” Bradley rasps, turning your attention back on him. You watch him weakly, eyes apprehensive as he reaches for your hand, “C’mere.” 

You hesitate, and he lets out a weak chuckle, “Come on, now. You’re not gonna kill me by holding my hand.”

“Bradley,” You sniffle, reaching out for his limp fingers on the bed, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” He smiles lazily, eyes drooping, “I’m okay. Comes in the job description, I guess.”

“I’m sorry,” You repeat, grief-stricken as you clutch at his hand desperately, “I shouldn’t have left, I- I wish I had stayed.”

“Baby,” His brows furrow and he laughs sympathetically, “They wouldn’t have let you stay, you know that. I work on a naval base, not at a chipotle. You can’t sit with me all day. Plus, there was no way you would’ve known I was gonna go down. I’m glad you weren’t there, sweetheart. I wouldn’t have wanted you to see that.”

All at once, your chest burns hot, blazing with panic. Is he not going to talk to you about it? Is he going to pretend nothing happened? Is he going to refuse to acknowledge what you’d said? You stammer, “What-?”

“Mr. Bradshaw!” The doctor comes in, cheery now that his patient is awake. You turn your head, still dazed and fear-stricken at Bradley’s demeanor. “Let’s see how you’re doing here. Any chest pain?”

“A little,” Bradley shifts in his bed, wincing infinitesimally.

“Probably just some discomfort due to the broken ribs. Headache?”

“Yeah,” Bradley admits with a groan, “That I’ve got.”

The doctor scribbles something down on his chart, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Bradley strains to think, “I… don’t know. I don’t even-" He grimaces, "I don't even remember the crash, ‘just know it happened ‘cause he told me.”

Bradley raises a shaky finger to point at Nick, who’s happy to see his son gain some mobility back, even if he is worried for the boy. The three adults had filed back into the room after the doctor, and you pointedly avoid Carole’s imploring stare.

“Think hard,” The doctor commands, and you squeeze his hand like it’s a play-dough machine, like memories will ooze themselves into his brain in star shapes and heart cut-outs.

“I remember…” Bradley rasps, turning his hand beneath yours to grasp it, “Jake’s birthday party. That was-” He glances over at you, “-last night?”

“That was three weeks ago,” This time your heart rate is the one to rise, echoing dully in your ears like the soundtrack of a horror film, “Is that-” You sniffle, “Is that the last thing you can remember, B?”

His eyebrows raise and he tries taking in the information, “Yeah- uh, shit. Three weeks ago. What does that mean, doctor?”

“It sounds like you’ve developed post-traumatic amnesia.” The doctor scribbles once more on his paperwork, “The good news is, we think you have only a mild concussion. And amnesia induced by mild concussions typically lasts only up to a week or two at most. But there’s a very real chance you could remember everything in just a few minutes.”

Amnesia.

He doesn’t remember.

“What I want you to do now is to rest, and we’ll have a nurse send up something to eat. Please,” The doctor eyes Nick knowingly, “Do not feed him the funyuns you’re holding behind your back.”

“Foiled again,” Goose laughs, tossing the packet of chips onto a chair beside his own lunch, “You got it, doc.”

“Alright, glad you’re awake,” The doctor bids you goodbye, “And- a nurse will be in to run a few simple tests later. For now, just sleep and eat.”

“Will do,” Bradley tries tightening his hand around yours but you worm away from him, and it’s heartbreakingly easy to do with his limited mobility. You stand abruptly, legs shaky and heart pounding in your chest as you stumble away from his bed.

Amnesia. Amnesia. Amnesia.

He doesn't remember.

“Honey?” Bradley calls warily, face scrunching into a tired frown.

His eyes follow you as you back right into your chair, the plastic scraping against the floor with an ungodly screech. Now the attention is all on you, and you give into that dreaded fight or flight response you seem to always fall victim to.

“I need to use the bathroom,” You ramble, rushing for the door, “I’ll be back!”

“Y/N-” Bradley tries calling, but his voice is weak enough where you can pretend you haven’t heard it as you try to refrain from running down the hall. You don’t make it ten steps before Bradley’s door closes with a sharp click, and the voice of one Carole Bradshaw cuts through the silence of the hallway.

“Y/N Mitchell!”

She’s using the same tone she used to use when you’d get in trouble for pulling a girl’s hair at school, or throwing mud at a boy who was mean to Bradley. You react just like you had then, spine stiffening and limbs locking. 

“Don’t you dare walk away from me,” She warns, stomping towards you in her half-raised heels, “Turn around, young lady.”

You follow her orders even if the nickname is outdated. She’s got her pretty eyes narrowed, and as much as it pains you to be on the receiving end of one of her seldom-used withering stares, it’s better than being in there and watching Bradley’s eyes shift when he suddenly remembers you’d been the biggest douche on planet Earth.

“Did you apologize?” She inquires, and you nod obediently.

“But- but Carole, he doesn’t remember-!” 

“He will,” She promises, “And when he does, you’d better apologize again. He needs you right now, y’know? He thinks it’s three weeks ago, before you ran off and left'im. As far as he knows, you’re still his adoring girlfriend who he’s probably yearning to see right about now. So go in there,” She reaches for your hand, “Kiss that boy on the mouth,” She demands, “And stop running away!”

“What? I can’t-” You gush, trying to pull away. But she’s stronger than Bradley is at the moment, and her hand tightens around yours, “I can’t lie to him! Not about this, I- how long am I supposed to pretend?”

“As long as you can,” She insists, already pulling you back towards his room, a woman on a mission, “You march right on in there, and tell him how worried you were, and let his memories come back to him on his own time. He’s traumatized right now, he just doesn’t know it yet, and he needs you there. If you break the news to him now, it’ll only stress him out more. Go play nice, and when he comes around in a few minutes, you can have a real talk.”

“I don’t want to lie to him,” You lament, and she stops pulling you down the hall to narrow her eyes at you.

“Babydoll?” She asks sweetly, and fooled by her kindness, you hum in question, “I don’t give a shit.”

She’s never foul-mouthed, so it catches your attention. She holds your incredulous gaze, “You want him back?”

“Yes.”

“You wish you’d never left?”

“Yes.”

“Well as far as he knows, you haven’t.” She huffs, the fabric of her skirt flowing near her calves, “So get in there and be there for your boyfriend of twenty years, and when he suddenly remembers you aren’t his girlfriend anymore, Grovel. Sound like a plan?” She raises an eyebrow, and you tamp down the nerves rising in your chest. You nod cautiously, resolutely, and she loosens her grip on your hand. She still holds it to lead you back to the room, but she stops outside the door to speak one last time.

“I know you love him,” Her voice is softer now, genuinely sweet and caring, “And I also know you like to run when things get scary. And that’s understandable, but it’s not okay, not right now. You can’t stop loving someone just ‘cause you don’t wanna lose ‘em. It’ll hurt worse if you walk away.”

“I know,” You breathe shakily, squeezing her hand, “Thanks, Carole.”

“Anytime, sweetpea,” She smiles, tears still gathered in her eyes, “Now get in there and kiss my son.”

“There they are,” Your dad stands as you reenter the room, “You ladies have a nice bathroom break?”

“‘Had the time of our lives,” Carole nods, letting you take the seat closest to Bradley’s head. Your feet feel burdened with lead weights as you step towards his bedside, and he watches you with worried eyes. You’re sure he knows you weren’t really going to the bathroom, not with the way you’d fled, but you’re glad he’s choosing to pretend for your sake. He seems worried, though, and you curse yourself for making this about you.

“Y/N,” He reaches out for you as soon as you’re in reach, his voice still hoarse. His hand squeezes yours instantly, and you feel for the panic he's probably experiencing. He deserves a shoulder to lean on, a hand to hold, and it should be someone better than you.

“Bradley,” You murmur back, trying to stop your lips from trembling, “I- can I kiss you?”

Carole’s voice rings in your ears, and you don’t have to turn around to know she’s smiling at the two of you. Bradley pauses, then his worried eyes soften and he nods weakly against the pillow.

“Oh,” Nick teases as you brace your hand on Bradley’s bed, leaning down to press a feather-light kiss to his lips, “Lovebirds!”

The kiss is nothing but awkward. It’s hesitant on your end, because you can’t believe you get to do it again. You’d really believed the goodbye kiss you’d shared with Bradley before he picked up dinner for the two of you would be your last one, so fitting your lips over his in the hospital seems like something otherworldly. You’re careful, too, because you don’t want to hurt him, not that you think you could ever smooch him to death. He doesn’t reciprocate much, he can’t, but the familiar prickle of his mustache against your lip is a welcome feeling that makes your heart feel light again, if only for a few seconds.

When you pull away, it’s gone. Because you have to look him in the eyes, the same ones you’d forced tears out of two weeks ago, and pretend like none of it happened at all.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” You gush, voice cracking, and it feels right starting off with the truth. You can get to the lies later, the ugly little abominations you’re cooking up so that he preserves as much mental energy as possible while on bedrest. You know Carole’s right, you know he needs to heal as much as he can before you make it worse with the news, but lying feels so wrong. He’ll find out sooner or later, and what if he really was done with you? What if he hadn’t told his mom so that no family drama erupted, what if it wasn’t because he was going to try to get you back? What if he hated you, and what if he hates you even more when he knows you’re lying through your teeth to him?

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He promises, his fingers curling slowly and carefully around your own, "Are you? You ran off, I was worried."

"I'm fine," You insist, waving away his concern with a shake of your head.

He doesn't seem satisfied with your answer; he can read you like a book. But he accepts your answer, and you admire him for not wanting to pry in front of everyone. He changes the subject, glancing briefly around the hospital room, “Baby my- my phone, can I have my phone?”

“It’s here,” Your dad hands it to him, and Carole watches your eyes widen infinitesimally. What if Bradley sees his text conversations? What if he sees that you haven’t talked in half a month? What if he finds messages from someone on a dating app he’d used, a rebound-in-the-making?

What if he’s changed his background? What if he wants an answer as to why it’s probably some picturesque sunset, a jet plane cutting through the clouds above. Or maybe it’s of Lewis, he’d recently had photos restored of the dog.

What if he notices your contact name is changed to something like ‘Do not answer’? What if he realizes he’s blocked you? What if all of your pictures together are deleted off of his phone, and he wonders why?

There’s a thousand things that could go wrong.

“Coyote called,” Bradley rasps, upon first sight of his screen. Then, “Hangman. Twice. Phoenix, Bob, Fanboy, Payback, I- I should send out a message.”

“I will!” You lunge for your own phone, digging in your back pocket with suspicious urgency, “Uh, I’ll let everyone know, you just- just rest.”

“Okay,” Bradley hesitates for only a second, letting his grip go loose around his phone so that it falls back to the bed.

He seems content to let you do it, if only a little deterred by your insistence. But you’ll play the part of the fussy girlfriend, not wanting her injured love to work harder than he has to.

Nick and Pete take the time that you’re creating a group thread to question Bradley more on his memories, and every answer he gives sets your heart on edge. Your fingers feel numb as you type out ‘Rooster’s stable now, he has a mild concussion and a few broken ribs, but the doctors say he’ll recover fully. His memories are a little hazy from the past few weeks but apparently those will be back soon. I’ll send you any updates we get.’

Before anyone even has a chance to reply, you set the thread on silent. You can’t bear even getting a notification that the message can’t be sent, because you’re sure Bradley’s team aren’t too fond of you right now, and you wouldn’t be surprised if they’d blocked you in solidarity for their friend. But Bradley hadn’t even told his mom, would he have told his team? Would he even need to? Or would they notice the circles beneath his eyes worsening, the stubble adorning his cheeks from a lack of motivation to do anything productive? Or, maybe even worse, would they have seen him with another girl hanging off of his arm at a bar? Would they have caught him out to lunch with a woman and figured it out themselves?

“Hey,” Bradley rasps, effectively breaking your zoned-out worry spiral. Your eyes don’t lose their intensity but they focus on his pale face, and he offers you a weak smile, “Anyone respond?”

“Always the attention seeker,” Nick laughs, creating a distraction so perfect that you don’t bother checking the text to answer Bradley. “Should we tell ‘em to bring flowers too, Brad?”

“Shut up,” Bradley’s voice is far too quiet to be menacing, but it’s the type of teasing he always engages in with his old man, “When you were in the hospital you said I had to draw you one picture a day or you’d think I didn’t love you.”

“And I only got fifteen out of eighteen,” If Goose is capable of a withering stare, it’s what’s directed at Bradley now, “I can’t believe I bought a Bronco for a kid who doesn’t love me.”

“Alright, you two,” Carole swats at her husband’s arm, “Cut it out, don’t overwhelm him.”

“His heart’s beatin’ real fast,” Nick snickers, “But that’s probably ‘cause Miss Mitchell is doting all over him.”

The attention’s back on you, and it means Bradley’s waiting to hear your response. You dry swallow after sending Nick a good-natured eye-roll, trying to act like your heart isn’t beating ten times faster than Bradley’s.

Miraculously, nothing awful awaits you in the group chat. There’s no error messages, no scolding, no pledges of hatred for you, and it makes you think that you really might be able to get away with this for a while. Carole won’t tell, and that doctor said Bradley might not retain his memories for weeks. It’s like everyone has hit undo on what might be your biggest mistake in life, and you don’t know how to take the opportunity.

“Bob says he hopes you recover soon,” You push the panicked fog out of your head, reading in a low voice, “Hangman says he’s gonna give you flying lessons when you get back so that you,” You snort softly, “Get the hang of it, and to that, he is receiving a barrage of middle finger emojis.”

Rooster lets out a laugh, one that’s genuine and thick from his chest. It’s unlike his voice has been so far, it’s not fractured or achy, and the sound warms your heart. Some of the sickly despair that’s been coating your heart like globs of poison dries up, and you almost feel normal again when you slide your hand into his. He holds your back, and it’s like nothing’s ever happened.

You have your Bradley back; the only question is for how long.

Lunch is a sorry state of affairs for Bradley. His tray consists of chicken and gravy that runs into his mashed potatoes, and the jello they give him has a layer of cherry red liquid pooling overtop. You and Carole take turns spoon-feeding the man, giving each other a chance to mow through your sandwiches between bites.

Your dad watches out for the doctors while you sneak Bradley some of your sandwich. It’s cafeteria turkey, and honestly you’d rather go for the chicken on his plate, but he hums gratefully at the spread of mayonnaise and mustard on the bread.

“Thanks, babydoll.” He croons, a smear of mashed potatoes in his mustache that you wipe away with watery eyes at the nickname. He puckers his lips to kiss at your thumb and it’s like you’re at home on his birthday, feeding him in bed and stealing kisses between bites.

Bradley’s eyes start to droop halfway through his watery jello, and your dad stands, brushing sandwich crumbs off of his jeans.

“Alright, buddy,” He squeezes Bradley’s foot reassuringly, “I’ll head out. Probably best to let you sleep. Get some rest, and make her give us updates,” He narrows his eyes at you, accusatory, “I know you’ll be too wrapped up in him to remember we exist, but take some time away from his lips to tell me if he’s still breathing out of ‘em, m’kay?”

“Don’t be makin’ out too much, “Nick goads, standing when Carole grabs his hand and does herself, “His heart rate’ll skyrocket and the nurse is gonna think he’s havin’ a heart attack!”

‘Yes, yes, they love each other very much,” Carole hums, leaning down to kiss Bradley’s forehead. He leans into it but his hand stays in yours, and you gladly accept the same gesture from the woman on your cheek, “Let’s leave him be, okay? Brad, I’m coming back tomorrow morning,” She promises, “Your dad and Pete have some work to do in the backyard, but they’ll join us after lunch.”

The men don’t seem to have known about this yard work until now, and they share equally exasperated groans. 

“And I’ll be here,” You throw in, meeting Carole’s appreciative gaze, “I’ll stay until they throw me out.”

“You could always handcuff yourself to the bed,” Your dad hums, and you pointedly ignore Goose’s comment about the pair of handcuffs you ‘probably keep in your nightstand.’ It gets him a sharp smack upside the head from your dad, and you’re sure Nick will choose a better audience next time.

“We love you,” Carole promises, squeezing Bradley’s arm as he bids her goodbye, “We’ll see you tomorrow, baby!”

“Love you,” Bradley hums, voice less gruff than before now that he’s used it again, “See you tomorrow.”

The entire time he’s been awake, he hasn’t let go of your hand. He turns to you with those sleepy eyes of his, big and brown and begging for a kiss. You lean in before you can stop yourself, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

His heart rate picks up.

You laugh against his mouth at the increased beeping, and he’s barely sheepish as he nudges his nose against your own. You feel like you’re loving on borrowed time, like any second now he’ll be slammed with the memory of you breaking his heart, stomping all over it like it hadn’t been yours for the past 20 years - maybe all of your life.

“I love you,” He murmurs, squeezing your hand, “Y/N, I- I love you so much. I don’t remember anything,” He’s slurring his words slightly with fatigue, and you kiss the corner of his mouth as he speaks, “But I know you could have lost me forever, and I’m sure it wasn’t easy to handle.”

He has no idea how true his words are. Of course, you’d nearly lost his life to the crash. But two weeks earlier, you’d lost his touch, his voice, his gaze, his love, and you’re grateful the tears that line your eyes look natural.

“Mhm,” You nod, sniffling, “It was- it was hard, Brad.” You admit, thinking back to the night you’d left. You’d checked into a shitty motel for the night, and you’d cried yourself sick in the shower. Even after your stomach was emptied you couldn’t bring yourself to eat for two days afterwards, and you’d only given into the mini fridge after nearly passing out. Your days were long and spent regretting your decision, wondering if you’d ever be happy without him by your side, and worrying that he might be able to.

“I just keep wanting to do it over,” You gush, feeling his hand tighten around your own as you sob, “I- I wanted to take it back, to-” You swallow a sob, remembering your lines, “-to stop you from going to work. If I’d just made you stay…” Your face crumples with a gush of tears you aren’t able to hold back, and you give up on speaking for now.

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” Bradley hums, kissing the space between your nose and your cheek. It’s all he can reach from the way you’re sobbing into his pillow, and you’re thankful for the comfort you might not be able to get soon.

“You couldn’t have changed anything,” He promises, and you nestle your head into his own to absorb his soothing voice, “My plane was still the one with the defect, baby. I would have gone down tomorrow if not today. ‘S only a matter of time.”

A wave of sickness washes over you at his choice of words, and you nod, trying to regain a grip. You lift yourself up from the pillow, neck aching as you crane it to kiss his chin. He smiles at you, his eyes so genuine and sweet that it makes you want to lose your lunch; it’s an expression you don’t deserve anymore, even if you long for it. It’s only a matter of time before he remembers everything, and you don’t know what you’ll do if he doesn’t want you anymore.

“You’re tired,” You hum, and he nods against the pillow, “Sleep, baby. You need rest.” You sniffle, wiping away a tear from your eye more forcefully than you need to. You try to lean back in your chair but Bradley stiffens, and feel him tighten his grip on your hand.

“Please don’t leave me,” He begs, and more of that nausea comes rolling in. They’re the exact words he’d whimpered just next to your ear two weeks ago, keeping the door closed with one hand while the other wound around your waist. Then, you’d wormed your way out of his grip, ripping the door open despite his efforts to stop you and running off to your car. Now though, you meet his eyes, scared and desperate and lost, and you nod, scooting forwards to lay your head on his chest.

“I’ll stay,” You promise, and he raises a hand to brace it against your cheek. You turn your head to kiss his palm, and he strokes a thumb over your face, “I’ll stay, Bradley, I promise.”

The nap that you take on Bradley’s chest is the best sleep you’ve had since you left. Being in his embrace once more practically erases your undereye circles, and it takes you a few seconds after you wake up to remember that anything is out of the ordinary in the first place. Then it all comes flooding back, and you cycle through each stage of grief respectively while still slumped onto the bed. Then you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder, and you realize that Bradley’s nurse has shaken you awake.

“Hi,” The man smiles down at you, “Sorry to interrupt. I’m sure you didn’t want to wake up.”

“Oh,” You laugh hesitantly, slipping out from beneath Bradley’s hand and wiping away a slight glob of drool that had accumulated around the corner of your mouth, “No, no, it’s okay. What time is it?”

“Dinnertime,” Another nurse chimes from by the door, carrying another tray of meat and potatoes for Bradley, “Around six-thirty, Miss Mitchell.”

“You’re welcome to eat here with him,” The first nurse informs you, “But you’ll have to get something from the cafeteria, or order in. And visiting hours end at eight,” He levels you with a sympathetic smile, “But if you’ve got one bite left I won’t kick you out.”

“Thank you,” You chuckle wearily, your voice barely thickened with tears, “I appreciate that. Bradley,” You hum, squeezing his hand and stroking your free one through his hair, “Wake up, baby. They brought you some dinner.”

He comes to groggy, and you don’t blame him. He blinks a few times, then recognition washes over his face as he remembers why he’s there, and hopefully nothing else.

The nurses get busy with moving his bed, pressing buttons on the little remote strapped to the side until he’s inclined enough to eat his meal. The tray hooks into the sides of the bed so that he doesn’t have to hold anything, but you take his fork for him anyways, leaving his hands completely free.

“Thank you,” You nod gratefully at the nurses when they retreat for the door, a smear of mashed potatoes already gathered on the utensil in your hand. Bradley’s happy to let you feed him, humming at the taste of the beef they’ve given him. 

“Better than the chicken,” He hums, his voice gaining back a bit of its grating quality from earlier. He’s usually rough-voiced after a nap, so you don’t worry too much about it. Typically you indulge in his raspy morning voice, but now it seems insensitive. 

“Good,” You croon, scooping mashed potatoes and gravy onto a bite of the beef, “And it doesn’t bother your stomach?”

“What’s there to upset it, salt?” He grumbles around a mouthful, “Barely tastes like anything.”

“Sorry, Brad,” You hum, stroking a stray strand of caramel colored hair back into place, “I’m not supposed to feed you anything else, though.”

“I know,” He relents, lips puckering to kiss your wrist instead of wrapping around the spoon in your hand, “Not your fault, baby. But,” He rears back to takes the bite, chewing thoughtfully while you wait for his next sentence, “Can you bring me cookies tomorrow?”

You laugh, trying to keep it quiet in the slowly darkening hospital room. There’s no one around, and the door is closed, but his voice isn’t loud and you don’t want to overpower him. 

“I just said I wasn’t allowed to feed you anything else,” You roll your eyes affectionately, a teasing gesture you thought you’d never be able to do with the man anymore, “What makes you think I’d bring you cookies?”

“Um, ‘cause you love me?” Bradley drawls, voice finally rising to a healthy volume. Maybe it’s the food in his stomach, or maybe it’s a switch that was suddenly flipped in his chest, but he sounds like himself again.

His words sober your fantasy intoxication, and you smile sadly at him where he lays in his bed. You set the fork down to lay your hand over his cheek, your palm soaking in the warmth of his skin that’s newly returned.

“I do love you,” You promise, leaning in to kiss him. You have to lean over his plate to do so, and you’ll worry later about any potential gravy stains on your shirt. You go slow and gentle, worried that he’ll push you away for reasons he doesn’t remember yet. But he doesn’t. In fact, when you pull away to give him some air, he catches your wrist in a surprising display of agility for his weakened muscles, and you freeze in place.

“I’m sorry,” He murmurs, mustache shifting slightly with his apology, “I can’t stop thinking about you getting that call. I never-” His voice cracks, “I never wanted you to go through that.”

“Me neither,” You feel tears pricking at your eyes again, the same that are shining in Bradley’s, “But you don’t have to be sorry. None of this was your fault, and what matters is that you’re okay now. I have you back, Bradley, I- I didn’t lose you.”

“You’ll never lose me,” He vows, and your lips sting with the force of your bite to repress a sob. 

He lifts his head from his pillow, the first time he’s done it since waking up. He kisses your temple as you try not to cry, lips dotting staccato kisses against your skin as you tremble slightly.

“I promise, baby,” He hums softly into your skin as his hand comes up to hug you, “You won’t lose me.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” You cry, your fist gripping his hospital gown desperately. You want to believe him but it’s not even really Bradley talking, it’s three-weeks-ago Bradley that doesn’t remember you walking out of his life for self-preservation. It’s Bradley that doesn’t know the worst of you yet, but who could remember at any moment and cast you away.

“You won’t, I promise.” He coos, stroking up and down your back. You feel silly, accepting comfort from a hospital patient who went down in a fighter jet less than 24 hours ago, but you feel even sillier that it's the same man you’d torn to shreds days prior. But he’s comforting you, he’s rubbing your back, he’s kissing your face, and he’s promising you that you’ll never lose him, so you let him, because you love hearing him lie, even if he doesn't know he's doing it. 

“You promise?” You look up at him with watery eyes that blur out his face, but you see him nod. It’s unfair to ask, not when he doesn’t have the knowledge to truly promise. He cranes his neck forwards to bump noses with you, letting you cry against his skin.

“I do, honey.” He nods, holding you close like you’d never left at all,  “I promise.”

Going from crying into each other’s embraces back to eating bland mashed potatoes is hard, but you ease Bradley into it with a bite of granola bar you’d found in your purse. He’s grateful for something with flavor, and you’re glad to finally be rid of the half-eaten snack. 

“Oatmeal raisin cookies, please,” Bradley begs as he chews the snack, going as far as to bat his pretty lashes at you, brown eyes shiny with hope. 

You scoff, wiping a tear away from your face with a fond, albeit trembling smile, “Okay, Brad. Oatmeal raisin.”

“You’re the best,’ He hums, grinning with a mouthful of oats and chocolate. You check your phone to find that you’ve only got twenty minutes left until visiting hours are over, and your eyes dim as you glance back up at him.

“I have to go soon,” You lament, “Visiting hours are over in twenty.”

His face fades from its pretty smile, some of the newfound color draining from his skin once more. You’re sure he’ll have a nightmare tonight, something about jet crashes and dying alone, and you hate leaving him here so vulnerable.

“I’m sorry, baby,” You sniffle, squeezing his hand, “They open back up at 8 tomorrow, so as soon as I make those cookies I’ll be back, I promise.”

“I know,” He nods, raising your intertwined hands to kiss at your wrist, “It’s okay. Not your fault.”

“I’d stay overnight if I could.”

“I’d sneak you into my bed,” Bradley grins sadly, “S’alright, baby, just get a good night’s sleep. You deserve it after today.”

“You too,” You squeeze his hand, smiling sweetly at him, “And if you have a nightmare, text me, and I’ll crawl through the window, ‘promise.”

He laughs again, and now that he’s got most of his strength back it’s a normal sound. It’s not weak, it’s not subdued, it’s perfect. It’s Bradley.

“I’d like to see you try,” He teases, and you wipe a smear of chocolate off of his lower lip, remembering the first time you’d ever done that with a fond smile.

“I’m on the sixth floor.” He reminds you, and you shrug, sucking the chocolate off of your finger.

“Meh,” You crumble up the granola bar wrapper in your fist, “I could scale that easy.”

“Oh, really? Yeah, I bet you could,” Bradley chuckles, “You’re Spider-Man, suddenly? Sticking to walls? I must have forgotten your transformation.”

“Yeah, you did,” You grin with a laugh, “Actually, while I rushed over here to see you, a truck full of radioactive spiders crashed, and I got bitten by one. You’ve missed a lot, Brad.”

“Right,” Bradley’s brows raise, eyes alight with amusement, “Those radioactive spider trucks are a real nuisance, I hear.”

Giggling sweetly with him feels normal. The kind of normal you crave, the kind that isn’t settled for, but yearned for. And you’re clinging to it, pushing the truth out of your mind and playing the part perfectly.

A knock on the door interrupts your gigglefest and you turn in time to see the nurse from before entering, a bittersweet smile on his face. 

“I’m supposed to kick you out,” He jokes, holding Bradley’s chart, “And you’re free to sleep whenever, Mr. Bradshaw, we don’t need to conduct any more tests tonight. You’re just here to be monitored."

“Alright,” Bradley nods and you stand, still clasping his hand in yours. The doctor busies himself with straightening up the chairs around the bed, and you take the privacy he so kindly grants you.

“Sleep good,” You recite your pre-bedtime deployment sendoff to Bradley, the phrase having gathered dust in the back of your head since his last overseas assignment, “Sweet dreams, and call me when you can.”

“I will,” Bradley leans up to kiss you, going for your lips, then your cheek, then your chin, “You too, baby. Get some rest. I’m okay, I promise.”

“Yeah,” You beam down at him, smoothing his hair away from his forehead, “You’re okay, Brad.”

"See you tomorrow!" He calls as you leave, and you turn to nod.

"See you tomorrow, baby." You promise once more, hand on the door handle, "Goodnight."

“Sleep well, Mr. Bradshaw,” The nurse bids Bradley goodbye with a smile and a nod as you trail out behind him, and at the click of the door behind the two of you, it’s like you’re the recovering amnesia patient. Now that Bradley’s not there anymore, not smiling at you, not telling you he loves you, it’s like you can’t be sure of anything, like you’re still that imposter you’d been when you’d first stepped in. You come to the sickening realization, only after the fact, that you'd loved lying to Bradley, and it makes you feel worse. Your reverie is shattered, and the nurse beside you notices your shaky breathing as you trail down the hallway.

“Miss, are you okay?” His brows furrow in concern, and you nod.

“Yeah, just-” You smooth your hands down your pants, your palms sweaty, “It’s a lot. Being in there, seeing him like- like that. I guess I wasn’t prepared.”

“No one is,” The nurse smiles sympathetically at you, leading you to an elevator, “But he’s right, Miss Mitchell. He’ll be alright. And hopefully, his memories will restore themselves overnight. There’s a good chance he’ll wake up remembering it all.”

You’re sure that was meant to soothe you, but it’s only sent more nausea rolling through your body. You nod, forcing a smile as the doors shut between you, “Thank you, Nurse.”

Once the doors shut, you want to burst into tears. You don’t want the reception desk to see that, though, so you rush through the motions of leaving, practically running to your car. Once you’re safely inside the floodgates open, and you’re surprised you don’t trigger the horn from how hard you’re sobbing against the steering wheel.

You try to channel Bradley’s voice, ‘I promise baby, you won't lose me.’ but it makes things worse, it piles guilt on top of your sickness and makes you want to run away again. Because he’d promised you that he’d never leave you, not that he’d ever let you come back if you’d left him. And that’s what you’re worried about now.

Running away hadn’t stopped anything bad from happening, it just made you feel worse when bad things did happen. Thankful for your second chance, you swear to yourself in the stuffy silence of your car that you’ll do anything to fix this, and that you’re not going to fuck this up again because you’re scared. Love is scary, giving yourself completely to another person is scary, but Bradley’s always been good at soothing your fears, and there’s no one you’d rather give yourself to.

You steel yourself as you prepare to drive back to your motel, but second-guess it when you remember that Bradley has his phone with him. You have each other shared on Find My Friends, and he doesn’t normally check it unless he’s worried about your safety, but you’re paranoid that he’ll find your pin at a crappy motel and know something is wrong. So you punch in Bradley’s address instead, the one you used to share with him, still labeled as ‘home’, and set off.

The drive looks familiar in no time, and it reminds you of how much you’d missed it. The big oak tree on your neighbor’s lawn, the flag perpetually at half-mast because the man across the street fell while adjusting it and never fixed it, the tricycle on the sidewalk beside your front door that the toddler next door always seemed to leave on your walkway. You check the mail and feel something stabbing at your chest when your name is on one of the letters, and your house key is cold with disuse as you slide it into the slot.

You hesitate when the doorknob turns beneath your fingers. Walking into Bradley’s space will tell you exactly how he feels about what happened between you. There’s either going to be empty bottles strewn everywhere with pictures laying around covered in tear stains, or there’s going to be a hot pink bra in his bed, and a new woman’s makeup kit in his bathroom. Hell, maybe she’ll even still be there, maybe you’re about to walk in on your replacement.

But the promise you’d made to yourself in the car wasn’t for show, and you turn the knob after taking a deep breath, stepping into the darkened home.

You call out an uncertain ‘hello?’ into the place, waiting with bated breath for a woman’s voice to respond. But it never does, and you flick the light on beside the door.

You’d been right with one of your guesses.

It’s messy. Not exactly the outwardly disastrous type of messy you’d imagined earlier, but knowing all of the little things about Bradley means that you know he’s let himself go over the past two weeks. His running shoes are gathering dust by the door, which seems to suggest that he’s been lazing in bed just like you have. The living room is pristine, the pillows all arranged the way you set it up that Bradley doesn’t care to replicate, and you wonder if he’s sat on the couch at all the entire time since you’ve been gone. There’s no grocery list on the fridge and upon further inspection, the appliance is close to empty, one lonely beer left alongside ketchup, mustard, and a rotting head of lettuce. Unless he was eating the worst burgers known to man, you don’t think he’s been eating anything from the kitchen. Your heart aches for Bradley; you hope he’s been ordering food in.

Walking through the space is like revisiting a crime scene as the killer. Everything here is because of you, the pictures stripped from the walls are gone because of you, the lonely toothbrush in the dual holder is because of you, the neatly made side of the bed with its messy counterpart is because of you. 

You realize that it’s your side that’s slept on, Bradley’s still tucked neatly in place, unused. You spot a red covering over your pillow, reaching for it and finding it to be an old t-shirt of yours that Bradley had raided your dresser drawers for. It’s one he’d bought you at a tourist trap on your vacation a few years ago, and it was your favorite to lounge in. You notice a dark spot on the fabric and only then realize that you’re crying, that it’s a tear that had fallen from your eye. Then it’s like everything hits you all at once, and you sink onto the mattress clutching the pillow. It smells like Bradley, and you know he’s been clinging to it every night, a thought that solidifies your sneaking suspicion that you might be the worst person on the planet.

You curl up and cry there, you don’t know for how long. All you can do is sob, soak your pillow with tears that you thought you were out of, clutch the bedsheets like they’ll reveal Bradley, hidden underneath and eager for a cuddle. This bed feels as empty as the motel’s had, maybe even emptier, because you’ve never slept in it away from Bradley. When he’s on deployment you always have a sweatshirt of his and a picture of him tucked under the pillow, but you know it won’t be there now. Now you’re alone, really alone. 

Your eyes droop and you know you need sleep, especially if you’re going to wake up early to make Bradley cookies in time for visiting hours to start. But you can’t bring yourself to sleep without the picture of him under his pillow, so you stumble out of bed to fetch it from your box of memories.

Your fingers close around the slightly wrinkled photo, a shot of you in a gown and Bradley in a suit. It’s one you’d taken yourself at your graduation, high school turned college sweethearts. He had wanted admission into the Naval Academy, but in order to spend more time with you, you’d enrolled together at a university. It’s your favorite photo to have with you, and you reach out to Bradley’s pillow to slide it underneath. Upon lifting the pillow, you find a stack of pictures already there. Each one of you, most with Bradley pictured in them too. They only make you cry harder, and you recognize some as the inserts of the picture frames that had been taken down from the hallway.

It looks like Bradley hoarded photos of you, and some are stiff and stained with tears. The sight is something out of a movie, a dramatic indication of the inner turmoil of its main character. You see a shot of your silhouettes together, faces darkened by the sun streaming in behind you. You’re kissing on the beach, and without paying much mind to the structural integrity of the photo, you clutch it to your chest.

You’re a wreck. You just want your Bradley back, but your Bradley isn’t yours anymore. You want three-weeks-ago Bradley back, the one who you didn’t run away from. But he’ll probably have his memories back by tomorrow, and there’s no telling if he’d even want you to visit again. Looking at the sorry state of his apartment, you know he misses you, but whether he wants you back is another question altogether. All you can do is wait and worry, and worry you do. As you sob and heave in the bed, your brain shuts down, and eventually you drift into a dreamless, unpleasant sleep, nose still buried in your shirt that smells like Bradley.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[promisingyounglady]

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?”

[foreverrandomwritings]

Desperation

Summary: Work has been stressful and that left you wrongfully getting snippy with your boyfriends. They make sure to get the attitude out of you. Things go a little unplanned at the end. 

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x afab!Reader x Jake “Hangman” Seresin

Warnings: GUYS THIS IS PURE FILTHY SMUT PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION! MDNI 18+ ONLY! I’m not going to put every warning in here just know there’s a lot.

Word count: 5266

Masterlist 

You could barely remember how you got to this point. A puddle of mixed cum, saliva, tears and sweat. You knew however this was exactly what you needed. You had been stressed to the max at work all week. Working longer hours had you rolling through the door to scarf down dinner and crawl into bed. Your boyfriends had been patient with you, taking your attitude with a grain of salt. They had been making your breakfast, lunch and dinners. They even waited up for you to get home so they could make sure you ate dinner and got into bed snuggly. 

But tonight had been a tipping point for them. You were all supposed to go to The Hard Deck that night. Fanboy, Payback and Fritz had just gotten back from another successful mission and you were all meant to be celebrating. However you had started mouthing off to them over everything while you were getting ready. The stress of the week with no outlet for it had caused it to bottle up and the cap was slowly twisting off. The final straw was when Bradley had kindly reminded you that you needed to leave in fifteen minutes while you were in the middle of doing your hair. 

It was rare for both boys to be done getting ready before you were. They both spent forever on their hair and Jake also took forever picking out what to wear. You were normally fine throwing on jeans and a t-shirt with your hair in its natural state or a ponytail. Today however you wanted to look more confident. So you had spent time picking your outfit, put some mascara on and actually decided to do your hair. 

“Hey honey, just wanted to remind you that we have to be out the door by 5:45 if we want to get there by 6:00.” Bradley’s head popped around the doorframe as he spoke. You looked at him in the mirror with narrowed eyes. Fingers pausing their work on the braid you were twisting your hair into. 

“I will be out soon. Stop rushing me.” You winced as soon as the words left your mouth. You turned to apologize to him but the disappointed look on his face had you stopping in place. He shook his head at you, clicking his tongue as he did. 

“We’ve been extremely patient with you this week. We know how hard it is to have a crazy work schedule. But we won’t deal with the bratiness anymore.” His large body had come fully into the doorframe now, filling it up almost completely, his arms crossed along his chest. 

“I really didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” you started to move closer to him, hands falling from your hair, the strands unraveling as you did. 

“Not another word. I’m gonna call Jake in here and we’re gonna take care of that attitude of yours.” Your eyes widened at his words and you closed the gap between your bodies. Your hands came up to meet the rough skin of his arms, you placed them there gently looking into his eyes. 

“You don’t need to do that. I promise to behave the rest of the night. You don’t need to call for him.” You pouted your lips at him, hoping the puppy dog look would win him over. He was the softer one of the two and would often break against you first. You really wanted to go out to the bar tonight. You knew you almost had him when his shoulders relaxed and he let out a slow breath through his nose. 

“What are y’all doing in here? We gotta go, it's 5:47.” as Jake's voice filled your bedroom behind Bradley you knew you had lost. Bradley stepped back out of the bathroom causing both of your hands to drop from him. You twisted them both together sheepishly as Jake came to stand beside Bradley. 

“Either of you going to answer me or do I have to try and figure it out on my own?” Bradley looked at you expectantly but you averted your eyes to the tile of your bathroom floor. Jake and you had put the black and white porcelain down together while Bradley was on a weekend trip with Maverick. 

“You gonna tell him honey or do I need to?” Bradleys question had Jake stepping towards you. He put a thumb on your chin and his pointer finger underneath your chin. You tried to resist his hold as he brought your face upwards but the effort was fruitless. Your eyes met his blue ones and you started chewing on your bottom lip aggressively. 

“What do you need to tell me darling?” The softness of his words were a trick and you knew it. He was always the harder one of the two and the second you told him what happened you’d be in for it. 

“I’m sorry.” you said quietly, begging for forgiveness now in hopes they would take it easy on you later. 

“What are you sorry for?” His thumb came to run against the softness of your bottom lip. Your eyes flicked to Bradley over his shoulder and he nodded his head at you encouragingly. 

“I snapped at Bradley. But I didn’t mean to.” you watched as his tongue came out to lick across his lips and his hand dropped from your face. 

“We took such great care of you this week and you’ve been bratty nonstop. We’ve taken it easy on you because we knew you were stressed. But you know what happens when you’re a brat.” you pouted your lips at him even though you knew it wouldn't help at all. 

“We’re gonna fuck that attitude out of you so no need to worry.” Your stomach twisted into knots at his words. It had been a while since you had sex with either of the boys. The need had been there all week and now that the opportunity was presenting itself to you you were hesitant. They always made sure you were taken care of, but you knew you were in trouble this time. You sent a glare at Bradley for putting you in this situation and he gave you a wink in return.

“Don’t look at him like he’s the reason you’re in this situation.” his hand came into contact with your cheek in a mild slap, soft enough it didn’t hurt but hard enough to get your attention. 

“You put yourself here baby and you know it. You’re a big girl and you need to start acting like it.” Bradley’s the one who talked this time, voice raspy with lust. 

“Let’s take you to bed and we’ll get that stress out of you.” Jake didn’t give you a choice as he grabbed your hand and led you to the king size mattress, Bradley was quick to follow. A gasp left your lips as the blonde put his hands on your hips and tossed you unceremoniously onto the soft black and gray marble comforter. You bounced twice before finally stilling, hair laid out around your head messily. You had been thrown horizontally across the bed so your head was on one side and your feet on the other. 

“You won’t need these.” Bradley started to work your pants off you, unbuttoning them and wanking them down your legs. Jake stood behind him shedding his clothes. His cock was already half hard when he pulled his boxers down his legs. He rounded the bed to stand by your head and looked down at you. His cock was in one of his hand’s, stroking himself up and down slowly. You wetted your lips in anticipation looking at him as best you could from your upside down position. 

You felt Bradley’s large hands running up your legs and you looked down at him rising onto your elbows to do so. He looked down at your black lace underwear before looking back up at you. You started to protest what you knew he was about to do. You had lost way too many pairs of underwear due to the rough nature of the aviators. This time was going to be no different. Bradley gave you a sly smirk as he tore the material haphazardly. The sound of the material tearing had you throwing your head back against the bed exasperated. 

“That was my favorite pair.” you whined out to the blonde, he rolled his eyes at your words. 

“We’ll take you shopping for a new pair tomorrow.” Jake reassured you as you stared up at him. You frequented a little boutique up in town so much that Bradley’s card was on file and they knew you by name.  

“Color?” Bradley asked as he pried your legs apart, the cold air of the room meeting your already wet cunt caused a cold chill to go through your body. 

“Green.” you answered back quickly and assertively. That was all the taller man needed before he was licking, nipping and sucking the skin of your legs, his mustache tickling you the whole way. Your eyes screwed shut as he worked closer to where you needed him the most. 

“Oh f-f-fuck daddy.” Slipped through your lips as Bradley’s tongue swept through your folds. Your hands fisted the comforter below you harshly, legs already shaking from the feeling of him between your legs. 

“Scoot up a little bit.” Jake grunted out causing your eyes to snap open. You did as he instructed and shimmed up quickly, Bradley’s mouth chasing you as you did. One of his hands was wrapped around your thigh. You hung your head off the side of the bed opening your mouth expectantly. A moment passed without him moving and you whimpered out. 

“Did you forget how to ask?” He seemed disappointed in you which had a lump forming in your throat.

“Can I please suck your cock sir?” You asked him politely, barely getting the words out as Bradley sucked your clit between his lips softly, your eyes falling shut at the feeling. 

“Good girl.” Then his cock was in your mouth, the angle was awkward but you made it work. Tongue swirling around the tip, the taste of his precum taking over your mouth. He groaned when you hollowed your cheeks around him. You brought a hand up from the comforter to fondle his balls carefully. 

“You’re doing so good.” you moaned around him at the praise. Legs squeezing around Bradleys head as one of his hands came up to your center. He slipped two long fingers inside you slowly, scissoring them gently. He moaned into you when your other hand came down to pull his hair harshly. 

You could feel the familiar warmth building up as he continued his movements. Jake was working himself in and out of your mouth at a rougher pace than Bradley had set with his fingers. That was the usual dynamic Jake quick, rough and stern while Bradley was slow, gentle and playful. The only time Bradley was rough was after a bad day when he needed to let off some steam. Then the only time Jake was gentle was after rough missions, where he wasn’t sure he was going to make it back home to you. 

“You’re getting sloppy, princess.” You hadn’t meant to lose some of your focus on him but the orgasm building up within you had your brain becoming hazy. 

“You’re close aren’t you?” He asked you even though he already knew the answer. You moaned around him in reply. 

“You can cum.” you furrowed your brows at his words. Normally when you were bratty they would deny your orgasm and not let you have any. But you didn’t stay on the thought for long as your toes curled and climaxed around Bradleys fingers and on his tongue. You gagged around Jake as he shoved his cock to the back of your throat roughly. Stilling his movements and swearing quietly at the feeling of your throat closing around him. 

You had expected Bradley to stop once you had your orgasm but he only continued. Fingers continuing their scissoring motion and tongue continuing to lick your clit. You had tears in your eyes when Jake slipped from your mouth, hand falling away from his balls. Jake backed away as you blinked your eyes open. Your vision was a bit blurry with all the blood rushing to your head. 

“What’s your color Princess?” Jake's voice was even and calm, you opened your mouth to answer when Bradley added a third finger sweeping them in a come hither motion. You let out a pathetic whine instead, knuckles turning white as you gripped his hair. 

“Bradley, knock it off for a second.” Bradley hummed into your wet folds in reply, slowing his movements slightly. 

“Green, my color is green.” you spat the words out, one of your hands coming up to your breast. You palmed it through the shirt and bra you had on roughly. You watched Jake walk to the bedside table that held most of your toys which was conveniently right next to him. He pulled the drawer open and grabbed out a little bag. He opened it quickly before retrieving a dark blue ring from it. He rolled it down the length of his cock settling it into place. He slipped out a dark red one and wrapped it around 2 of his fingers. That one would be given to Bradley when he was done between your legs. 

“How many should we give her, Rooster.” You could feel the hand that was wrapped around your thigh move away momentarily but you didn’t have the sense to lift your head to look at the five fingers he held up. 

“I think that’s doable. We’ve already got one done.” Jake climbed onto the foot of the bed next to you sitting on his legs, cock proudly on display. Your head was still dangling off the side of the bed and the blood rush was starting to make you loopy. Jake must have realized this with his instruction for Bradley to move you back down the bed. Bradley did so quickly, using the hand around your thigh to tug you down. 

“Get off that.” Jake slapped your hand away from your breast at the words. 

“Sir.” You pleaded with him, eyes zeroing in on his tanned body. 

“Be patient.” He scolded you, you didn’t have to be patient too long as he pulled your shirt and bra off your upper body quickly. You placed your hand back into Bradley’s hair as he threw the clothes somewhere in the room. He brought a hand to your breast, rolling your already hard nipple between his rough fingers. You hissed when he pulled back and smacked it harshly. 

“What was that for?” You asked him breathlessly, his answer was another harsh slap right at the same time that Bradley sucked your clit again. You hadn’t expected the orgasm that ripped through you as the pain and pleasure intertwined deliriously. 

“Yellow.” you whispered out, your clit was over stimulated and needed a break. Bradley gave your clit one last little lick before he was reluctantly pulling away. His mustache, mouth and chin were all covered in your slick. It was at that moment you realized that neither of them had kissed you yet. 

“You okay baby girl?” Bradley was stroking your thighs as Jake stroked your hair. 

“Need a just a minute to recover.” Your chest was heaving as you came down from the high that just overtook your body. You closed your eyes for a few seconds trying to get your bearings. When you opened them again you saw Bradley and Jake with their lips locked together. Bradley was standing and had a hand on the back of Jake’s head and Jake was stroking himself again.

“Please” you begged them, the word coming out whiner than you intended it to. But it reflected the desperation you were feeling perfectly. You weren’t sure if you were desperate for one of them to kiss you or if you were already desperate for their touch again. 

“What does the whiney little princess want now?” Jake teased you as he pulled away from Bradley, a string of saliva and cum connected them together briefly. You ignored his words and turned your attention to Bradley. He gave you a big smile and grabbed your hand when you reached it out to him. 

“Can I have a kiss daddy?” you asked him, pouting your lips and fluttering your eyelashes seductively. He let out a loud laugh and placed one knee on the bed between your legs. He braced himself with his hands on either side of you as he came to hover above you. You used his clothes as an advantage, gripping the white tank top between your fingers and pulling him down to you. You could taste your cum, the spearmint of Jake from his toothpicks and the mustache oil that Bradley used within the kiss. 

He started the kiss slowly, lips colliding softly but you wanted more. You nipped at his bottom lip and rolled your cunt up into his clothed thigh. He didn’t part his lips as you had hoped he would and you realized he was playing a little game. Trying to see how desperate you would get for him to give in. You threaded a hand through his hair and pulled on it roughly. He groaned into your mouth and you used that opportunity to slip your tongue into his. You grinned into the kiss victoriously. Jake cleared his throat loudly and you both pulled away from each other reluctantly. 

“Thank you daddy.” You gave him a final peck on the lips before turning to look at Jake. 

“Don’t you think daddy has far too many clothes on?” He seemed to think about it for a moment before nodding his head. 

“Far too many clothes, princess.” You both turned your gaze to your shared boyfriend who was still hovering above you. 

“Alright I got it, I’ll get undressed.” Bradley huffed out at you exasperatedly. He backed up and stood, quickly shedding off his clothes leaving you and Jake to stare at him eagerly. 

“This is for you.” Jake took the red cock ring off his fingers and handed it to Bradley. He hissed lowly as he rolled it down his already throbbing cock, the tip leaking precum and bright red. 

“Are you going to fuck me daddy?” you asked him innocently when he got the ring into place. He shook his head at you and Jake grinned. 

“I wanna watch him fuck you into this matress baby girl. Then I’ll fuck you nice and slow, promise.” Jake beamed at him before climbing over your body to situate himself between your legs. You spread them open for him knowing he didn’t like to ask. 

“Your pretty little cunt already looks so spent Princess. Daddy did a good job taking care of you.” Bradley gave out a thankful grunt at the praise, settling himself in the armchair of your room. You had the idea to put it there for nights like these. Where you weren’t intertwined with each other but one of you preferred to watch the others. It was the perfect view of the bed and fit Bradley’s large frame comfortably. 

“You gonna take good care of me sir?” you already knew he would but Jake was a sucker for dirty talk. 

“Always, princess.” His fingers came to sweep through your folds collecting the slick still there and rubbing it along his length. He laid a heavy hand on your inner thigh and dipped his head down slightly. You felt the warmth of his spit on your cunt before his fingers mixed it with your cum. 

“Who made you this wet princess?” It was a rhetorical question and you all knew it but you answered anyway. 

“You and daddy, sir.” You pulled your lip in between your teeth as he probed the tip of his cock at your entrance. 

“Good girl.” He punctuated the sentence with a quick thrust, seething himself inside you. You were thankful that Bradley had worked you open so well with his fingers earlier. He wrapped a hand around your throat and your fingers flew up to dig into the flesh of his bicep. 

“Green?” You nodded in reply, unable to form words with his hand around your throat and the feeling of him filling you up so nicely. 

“What did we do to deserve such a beauty, Bradshaw?” You blushed at his words. No matter how many times he complimented you it still made you feel breathtaking. 

“I don’t know but I know we ain’t ever gonna let her go.” an inaudible moan slipped from your mouth at his reply, the assurance of your future making your walls clamp around Jake.

“Did you like that Princess?” Jake hummed at you pulling out and slamming back in. You groaned out in reply, eyes glancing over towards your brunette boyfriend. But you couldn’t see him with the way Jake was wrapped around your throat. 

“Want us to make you our wife one day?” He pulled back out and thrusted back in. Your grip on his bicep tightened, crescent shapes impeded in his skin from your finger nails. Eyes squeezing shut, willinging yourself to stay still, to let Jake take complete control. 

“We’ll make you our wife, just got to be patient.” Then he was pulling back out and thrusting back in. His hips slamming in and out of you at a hurried pace, his hand squeezed around your neck lightly and the room was a mix of noises, whimpers, moans, groans, praises and slapping noises. The coil inside of you was so close to coming apart but you just needed more. You opened your eyes to see Jake already looking at you. He seemed to read your mind as the hand that wasn’t wrapped around your throat floated down between your bodies. His thumb circling your clit with the same pace as his thrusts. 

“Come on princess. Cum on my cock.” Jake’s encouragement was all it took for the coil to snap. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, legs spasming as he continued to fuck you through your climax. He let go of your throat and pulled out of you with a deep groan, rolling the cock ring off himself. He stroked himself once, then twice, then a third time before his cum shot out over your aching cunt. You stared up at the ceiling, ears buzzing. You hadn’t even noticed Jake crawl off the bed and Bradley take his place until you felt Bradley’s large hand brush some of your hair off your sweaty forehead. 

“Where’d he go?” the words came out a scratchy slurred mess, it was a miracle that Bradley understood what you were saying. 

“He went to get stuff ready for the aftercare baby girl.” You nodded at him weakly, arms coming up to wrap around his neck. 

“Will you fill me up daddy?” the emptiness you felt had tears forming in your eyes.

“You sure? We can stop now.” You knew he meant it, but you also knew he hadn’t cum yet and you wanted to feel him cum inside of you. 

“Still on green daddy and I want to feel you inside me. Please.” You begged him, voice tear filled at your desperation. 

“Alright baby girl, I’ve got you.” He wiggled an arm under your back wrapping it around your waist. He moved himself so he was sitting with his back amongst the pillows and headboard of your large bed. You were placed on his lap carefully. He gave you a moment to take a deep breath before lifting your hips and lowering you onto his cock. He buried his head in your neck as your cum covered cunt squeezed around his cock. 

“Feels so good daddy. I love when you and sir fill me with your cocks.” You weren’t sure how you formed the sentence but you were thankful that you did. Bradley sucked a mark into your neck before slowly moving your hips in a back and forth motion. Every brush of your clit along the well groomed skin of his pelvis had you sucking in a breath. 

He pulled his head out from your neck and brought a hand up to your breast. He held it in his calloused hand, palming it gently. You groaned loudly, throwing your head back when his mouth came around your nipple. The wet feeling of his tongue flicking the bud had you squeezing your legs around his waist as best you could. You brought a hand to the back of his head holding it in place. 

“Daddy.” you had tears streaming down your face as another climax approached you. Your stomach was tight and your chest was heaving. Your head was swimming in euphoria. 

“It’s alright daddy’s got you. Go ahead.” He pulled away from your chest to get the sentence out before focusing on your other breast. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” The word tumbled out of your mouth like a prayer. You clenched around him harshly, his hands continued to pull you back and forth. He groaned and you felt his cum painting your walls. He must have taken his cock ring off at some point while Jake was buried inside of you earlier. 

“You look so fucking gorgeous making a mess on me baby girl.” Bradley’s voice brought you back down to earth. You pulled his head back harshly, meeting his lips with your own. He matched your languid pace, dipping his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your quiet blissed out sobs. 

“You get another one from her?” Jake spoke from beside the both of you. You pulled apart and reached for him, but stayed in your place on Bradley’s lap. 

“Kiss please.” was all you said and he nodded at you understandingly. You always liked to kiss them after a long and intense session. It made you feel connected to the pair in ways they’d never fully grasp no matter how many times you tried to explain it to them. His lips met your own and he kissed you slowly tongue dipping out to run along your lips but never trying to slip any farther. 

“She’s still got one more to go.” Bradleys large hands squeezed your waist and you pulled back from Jake.

“I’m gonna go ahead and jump into the shower, join me when you’re done.” You also liked to have one on one time with the both of them. Bradley slowly pulled you off him, your mixed cum dripped down your legs onto his lap as you went. You blubbered wantonly and tried to grip onto him.  

“Take a deep breath. You’ll see me soon. You’re gonna spend some time with Jake babygirl.” Your brain finally caught up with what was happening and you reached for Jake weakly. 

“There ya go princess I got you.” Jake’s voice was soothing as he whispered into your ear. He held you as Bradley climbed out of the bed. The tall man moved into the bathroom swiftly and you heard the shower turn on then Jake was laying you back on the bed. Your legs dangling loosely over the side of the bed. In the same position as when you first started. 

“I’m gonna clean up our mess. Is that alright?” You couldn’t form any words so you reached for his hand and squeezed it. 

“Are you green?” You squeezed his hand again and he gave you a wink before dropping to his knees. He threw your legs over his shoulders and blew a puff of cold air into your wet folds. You brought your hand to his head and pushed on it weakly. He huffed out a laugh before he dove between your legs. Where Bradley was soft and gentle Jake was frantic and rough. He lapped at you hungrily, tongue fucking you like you were his last meal. You screamed out as your fifth climax of the night ripped through you unexpectedly. Your vision went white and everything around you went silent. 

When you came to you felt two pairs of hands on you and warm water running down your back. Your legs were wrapped around someone and their hands were holding you to them. Your arms thrown around their neck lazily. You dug your face into the neck of the person holding you and brushed against a set of scars and you knew it was Bradley. So that meant that Jake’s hands had to have been the ones rubbing up and down your arms soothingly.

“What happened?” your voice came out small barely above a whisper. 

“We lost you there for a minute.” Bradley’s chest rumbled against your own as he spoke.  

“Had us worried darlin’.” Jake's southern twang was thick as it usually was after sex. 

“I’m alright. Just a little hungry.” your sentence was solidified with your stomach growling. Both of them chuckled at the noise. You kissed Bradley’s neck a couple of times before turning to Jake. He had a sad look in his eyes that slowly went away when you smiled at him. 

“You didn’t know it was going to happen Jakey. I’m okay now. You took care of me and that’s all that matters. I love you.” He gave you a weak smile and stepped closer to you to give you a chaste kiss. 

“I love you too.” He pecked your lips between each word. 

“I love you too Brad.” His nose scrunched up at the nickname you had bestowed upon him. 

“I also love you Brad.” His eyes narrowed at Jake which earned him a shit eating grin. 

“I regretfully love you both for some unknown reason.” you and Jake both gasped at his words. 

“Not to interrupt the sentiment but our doordash should be here soon. So we need to be done here soon.” Jake must have ordered the food while you and Bradley were together. The boys helped you wash your hair and your body. Bradley had already showered before you had gotten in there and Jake washed himself quickly before stepping out of the shower, he wrapped himself in his towel. Then Bradley stepped out and Jake wrapped you in a towel before taking you from his arms. Even though you insisted you could walk. 

“I’m gonna go grab our clothes from the dryer and put the comforter in the washer.” It was a ritual for one of them to put the clothes in the dryer so you would all feel warm and cozy after sex. It proved to be one of your favorite aftercare activities. Jake set you down carefully before drying himself off and gathering up underwear for the three of you. Bradley slipped back into the room tossing Jake your clothes and grabbing your towels. He hung them back on the towel warmer Jake had insisted on purchasing. 

You slipped on your underwear and the moomoo with Jake and Bradley’s face all over it that they had gifted you for your last birthday. Jake slipped on his boxers and sweatpants. Bradley came back and slipped on his boxers and crewneck before he swept you up throwing you over his shoulder. The doorbell rang as you entered the living room and Jake went and grabbed the food. You all sat on the couch eating your sushi and watching The Sorcerers Apprentice, all the stress from earlier gone from your mind. 

A/N: I spent literally forever wrtiting this and didn’t go to bed until about 2:45 am. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments very much appreciated. 

Tags(open): @wkndwlff​ @sylviebell​ @eternallyvenus​ @loving-and-dreaming​ @princess76179​ @kmc1989​ @qjdjjexnsk​ @gspenc​ 

[bradshawburner]

Oh the sweetest boy! This hit me in the feels. But what a lovely way to awake up! He's home!

xx @sometimesanalice

hiraeth

Bradley Bradshaw × Reader

wc - approx 2k

warnings - none!! a highly self indulgent fic, mainly fluff with a little angst thrown in.

disclaimer - ANY BLANK/AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!! I also DO NOT give permission for any of my works to be copied, shared, compiled, translated or posted onto other sites!!

comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

It was a common occurrence for you to fall into a deep slumber whenever you got into bed during the past few months. Work was hectic in the run up to christmas. People were just rude - coworkers and clients alike. This isn't how you imagined this would be how you'd be spending your time, you'd worked tirelessly at college in hopes of landing your dream job, but after several months of endless rejections and failed interviews, you'd managed to land a dead-end job.

At first you were ecstatic, but that initial joy was short-lived.

Your co-workers weren't welcoming to a newcomer, especially so close to the crazed holiday period, and the clients and customers, they just piled on their distaste for things out of your control, as if you had made all of the 'stupid and pointless' company policies. Realistically, it wouldn't have been such a tough adjustment if you had your boyfriend home with you, but life had seemed to be against your happiness this year.

Your loving boyfriend of the past two years was a naval aviator, and earlier in the year, he and his squadron were sent on a new deployment. What started out as a short 3 month deployment, was extended to a six month one. That was followed by another extended deployment. You didn't even get to see Bradley or any squadron members before they left again. They had missed you submitting your final college assignments, you receiving your final grades, they missed all the highlights of your senior year that you were so eagerly anticipating to share with them - Bradley especially. But what hurt the most is that they missed your graduation. Initially, you weren't even going to attend the ceremony, but at the insistence of the dagger squad, you'd planned out your outfit, booked tickets for everyone, to then be faced with no one to celebrate with when it rolled around, and a feeling of disappointment and frustration weighing heavily on your heart. You spent the day drowning your sorrows at the Hard Deck, Penny having taken pity on you, and kept your glass full on the house. You couldn't have cared less, despite how much you viewed Penny as a mother figure in your life.

The one person you wanted, needed, to be here, was somewhere in the middle of the ocean, unreachable.

It had been a major conversation point early on in your relationship with Bradley. Deployments were inevitable, especially if your relationship was going to last. The inconsistent contact would be more frustrating than knowing you are facing radio silence, whether voluntary or mandatory, despite Bradley's insistence you'd regret it once he was deployed. That is what you had naively said when Bradley got his first deployment papers a short six months into your relationship. Those initial six weeks flew by, spending it bonding with the rest of the dagger squad, soon being adopted into their tight knit dynamic. More so, Natasha and Javy dragging you out of your shared home with Bradley every few days, ensuring you ate and looked after yourself - on clear and strict instructions from Bradley.

Having no one this time around? Well, that was worse than you could ever imagined and you now understood why Bradley had been so insistent to talk this over extensively before he left, and why he insisted you'd crave what little contact you could get. Now, it seemed all too easy to give up and leave, like many military partners had done before. But you couldn't do that to Bradley - especially not in the middle of an extended deployment.

At the end of another emotionally and physically demanding shift, you'd decided to skip the tedious task of dinner, and just curl up in your bed, the emptiness you felt, pathetically you had tried to fill with several fluffy blankets, you knew deep down that you only bought more to end up snuggling with Bradley at the end of a long day. The mere thought of how he would teasingly complain at your evergrowing blanket collection was enough to send you sobbing into his pillow. His cologne had long since faded, and the little he had left behind on the dresser had been finished a few months earlier when you had initially kept spraying his pillow and the one hoodie he would always let you steal. He'd often leave it out for you on your bad days, and it was fair to say, you had been wearing it 75% of time he had been gone.

Your eyes and throat burned with overwhelming sadness, your heart ached in a way you never thought possible. This is how you'd imagined it would feel to die from a broken heart, a pain once so incomprehensible you were skeptical of its existence, now was your day to day life - and you still had Bradley in your life, you just hadn't seen him in nine months.

Tonight was far from the first night you'd spent crying yourself to sleep. Winter had just made it so much easier to cry your heart out and harder to drag yourself out of bed in the morning. Where you had once been met with a fresh breakfast shared with Bradley, you now faced an empty and cold house.

The cold wasn't just from the changing seasons, you were barely living - wake up, work, home, sleep and repeat. The once homely feel to your home, had faded the longer he was away.

The incessant beeping of your alarm was your nemesis, groaning you screwed your eyes shut, the tear tracks on your cheeks causing an unpleasant tightness as you yawned. You rolled over to face Bradley's side of the bed, a content smile on your face as you snuggled towards the warmth emitting from next to you. Immediately you froze, your body tense and eyes still screwed shut in fear of who was in your bed, thoughts racing.

Did you forget to lock the doors? What about the window Bradley was insistent you double check due to its temperamental lock? Maybe it was Penny who left you with an extra hot water bottle in case you got cold like she often did? No, this was too warm.

It wouldn't have been the first time you had blacked out and phoned her in the midst of a sob session, desperate for someone who understood your pain, and she would then spend the next sat next to you, ensuring you did actually manage to look after yourself, and not let yourself waste away from your bed.

Furrowing your brows, you took a deep breath and-

Your body reacted faster than your mind could comprehend and catch up. That once faded scent was stronger, almost overwhelming.

Bradley.

Your eyes shot open to be met with his honey brown eyes sparkling in the early winter sun, that streamed through your blinds. You blinked once, twice and when he didn't disappear and actually spoke, you choke on a hoarse sob.

He was home.

You launched yourself on him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck, in fear he'd disappear if you didn't hold him tight enough.

His rough and deep morning voice was your favourite and that being the first you heard from him after the exhausting last nine months, was the cherry on top of the most perfect wake up call you could have dreamt of, "Morning babygirl."

When your voice failed you and you sobbed into his bare chest, he rubbed his hand gently up and down your spine, with the exact pressure he knew you craved, to ground you back in the present.

You had often dreamt of a similar situation in the months he had been away, but it always ended with you waking with a start, hope blooming in your chest, only to find your house as empty as it was when you fell asleep.

You were aware that Bradley was talking lowly to you, you could feel the vibration of his voice through your tight embrace. You'd missed the sensation of feeling his rumbling voice while holding him. It was such a small, almost trivial thing to miss, but to you it was everything, something that you swore to never take for granted again.

He nudged you gently, kissing the top of your head once again, trying to prise your head away from its place tucked tightly against his neck. you whined softly, hating to any physical space between your bodies. "Good wake up call?" His teasing tone brought a watery smile to your face. You nodded, managing to press a soft kiss to his lips, "| love you." He reciprocated, "I love you too," running his hand through your hair, helping to further ground you.

A second wave of tears welled in your eyes upon hearing your second alarm, work was beckoning, threatening to burst this joyful bubble you were in. Bradley stretched, sitting up and bringing you up with him. You whimpered, heartbreaking at the thought of having to leave him so soon, "Please...Can't we just stay here a bit longer? I just got you back…"

Bradley's heart broke hearing the utter sadness in your voice, he nodded slowly with a small smile on his face, rubbing his hands down your spine again. "I called you in sick to work already, we just need you to get some breakfast." And as if proving his point, your stomach grumbles lowly.

Nodding along, you shifted away from him to sit up fully.

It was okay. He called you in sick. Wait-

"You knew."

There was nothing else needed. His face full of guilt said it all.

Now, your tone is short and seeping with hurt. "You got home yesterday. You've obviously been to the Hard Deck to see Penny to even know I'd got a job. You've been home almost an entire day, you all have-" Tears spill down your cheeks rapidly, "And you- you never thought I'd want to welcome you back home...”

Your voice trailing off now that the initial anger was over, and now you were left feeling truly hurt.

Bradley was quick to scramble back to your side, realising his mistake. He cupped your cheeks gently in a desperate attempt to gain your full attention, despite your best efforts to pull away, no long craving the comfort his touch and presence provided.

"Hey, hey, hey, baby- l'm so sorry, I just wanted to surprise you.” His brows were furrowed in concern, eyes full of sincere regret. When you eventually stopped fighting his hold so much, he pulled you back onto his lap, still cradling your face between his large, callused hands. "I never, never meant to hurt you. You know that.”

When you didn't reply, instead screwing your eyes shut as more tears ran down your cheeks, Bradley swiped his thumbs under your eyes, wiping them away as quickly as they fell.

Shakily, you exhale sharply and peel your eyes open to meet the epitome of puppy dog eyes in Bradley.

"I am so so sorry." Tears of his own we're now glistening in his eyes. "Phoenix said you'd hate me for this plan- I should've listened. God, I hate I made you this upset." Sniffling, you shift closer, nuzzling your face into his neck, Bradley pressing a soft kiss to your head in response.

"Please don't leave me."

"I’m not going anywhere."

[ervotica]

treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen

warnings: SMUT (18+ only), p in v, overstim, cunnilingus, aftercare ofc, bradley is the hottest man ever xx

kinktober masterlist

You love it when it storms; the distant crackle of thunder on the horizon, the way the wind sweeps everything sideways until all you can hear is the pounding of droplets against the window panes.

You especially love that, oftentimes, it means Bradley gets to come home early.

He’s slipped straight into the bathroom on his journey into the house, past the living room and the kitchen and you. You hear the shower turn on and the whine of the old pipes that most definitely need replacing. You hear exactly when his bare skin hits the hot spray of water, almost picturing the steam rising and clouding up and around him.

You tiptoe to the en-suite as quietly as you can, each item of clothing slowly discarded the closer you get to what you want.

The bedroom comes into view and you see steam curling around the base of the bathroom door; it's ajar.

You can feel his eyes on you as it creaks open, his smirk as he takes in every inch of your naked skin - the curve of your hips, the swell of your breasts, the pudge of your tummy.

“Hi, baby,” he murmurs; his thick fingers grasp and squeeze at the fat of your hips before you've even fully stepped into the shower, and he tugs you close, pressing your chest to his.

“I missed you,” you purr, forehead nestled into the juncture of his neck “Glad you’re back early.”

He palms the globes of your ass, rocking the semi he’s already sporting against your naked pussy.

“I missed you more.”

You relax forwards into him and you can feel his smile imprinted into your shoulder, the thick mustache on his top lip scraping against your soft complexion.

You tuck your arms underneath his and hum, the rake of his fingernails up and down on your back enough to have your eyes fluttering closed.

His hands are slow on their descent, pausing and halting to toy with every part of your body he loves; his thumbs slide across the tiger-like stretch marks on your thighs before moving inwards. You shudder, brows knitting and tight where you still lazily rest on his shoulder.

Two fingers slip between your folds, the broadness paired with the rough callouses enough to have you leaning forward into his hold more than you already are. He’s happy enough to take your weight, hooking a forearm beneath your knee and caging you in against the glass wall of the shower.

“There she is,” he coos, teases really, a thick thumb coming up to draw tight circles on your little nub. He delights in the way a soft moan pushes past your lips despite your efforts to keep them concealed – you don’t want to inflate his ego too much, let him know this is all it takes to have you keen beneath him. It’s no use really; his confidence is enough to carry him without any sort of technique, it’s just luck that he has that too.

You tremble as his movements get hard and fast against your poor little cunt and he sinks to his knees. The tip of his nose nudges at your clit, and god, you swear nothing ever prepares you for how good he makes you feel every single time.

“You just relax, angel. Gonna take care of this pretty little pussy for you, okay?” His voice is husky and deep but smooth and sticky like honey. You could listen to him forever.

His tongue is on you before you even have time to breathe; first fast, flicking against your bud like slaps, quick in succession, and then slower as he flattens his tongue out and slurps, makes the most obscene noises as his mustache tickles against your clit. Your thighs shake against the sides of his head, your fingers raked through the wet hair stuck flat to his head, all the while he’s focused, soaking himself with the juices from your drooling hole.

You’re close by this point, chest ragging breaths, feet sliding against the wet shower floor as Bradley pins you up by your hips and doubles down.

That’s all it takes, really, though you’d never admit it. You gasp and that coil that’s been building snaps with such a force you see white.

You let out this long, keening whine, trembling in his forceful grip as your cunt tenses and spasms under his mouth.

“Baby, I’m done,” you gasp, “Please, fuck, that’s enough.”

He only grins from his place between your legs and slips two fingers into your still quivering hole.

“You’re gonna give me another one, sweet girl.”

You can feel yourself sweating despite the onslaught of water pounding on top of the pair of you.

You’re already drawing to your peak again, a heat growing in your cunt where Bradley is skilfully crooking his fingers against that spot that makes you see stars.

“Attagirl, give it to me,” he coos, before going back to slurping at your cunt like a man deranged.

You have no choice but to oblige him, and with a shriek, you cum on his tongue and fingers once more.

He releases you slowly, straightening and wrapping your thighs tight around him as the head of his cock nudges at your entrance. He pulls you down and around him with a groan, his head going straight to the juncture of your neck as he punches his cock up into you.

A scream falls from your kiss bitten lips and your nails tighten and dig into his shoulders; you’re so sensitive, you can feel every brush of his cock on your insides, every vein and ridge, every little movement.

“Two more,” he grunts, teeth scraping at your jaw. “Two more and you’re done, baby.”

He’s relentless in his pursuit of your next orgasm, pace fast as he thrusts up into you time and time again.

It’s not long before you’re on the precipice again, and Bradley feels the telltale sign of your pussy strangling him, pulling him further in, just as you squeak and cum around him. You soak him with it, your legs squeezing his torso tight as you burrow into his skin to try and escape this intense pleasure he’s pushing down onto you. You’re alight with it, every nerve ending on fire as you shake and moan.

He doesn’t stop; you’re far past your threshold and still he continues on, the squelching of your pussy enough to have him hardening even more, more than he ever thought possible.

He knows he’s not going to last much longer so he’s quick to press a thumb to your trembling clit, pushing in tight, fast circles as he pushes you from one orgasm and almost instantly into the next.

“Last one, baby. Give it t’me, okay? You can do it.”

Your clit kisses his pubic bone as he pushes all the way in and grinds against you, fervour lacing his every movement as he desperately forces you towards the edge again.

You’re dead weight at this point, head rolling against his shoulder as he hikes you up and around his waist and sets a furious pace.

“Jesus, sweetheart, I’m gonna cum, fuck!” He grits out, biting at the slope of your shoulder until you can’t hold on any longer and cum with a cry; your whole body tenses and snaps like a bowstring, and you’re clinging to Bradley to hold you up, sagging as he finally chokes out a gasp and fills you. You flood with warmth and he lowers the pair of you to the floor under the hot spray of water. You’re in his lap, eyes closed as you already begin to doze off with the skin on skin contact.

“C’mon, honey. Gotta get out before the water gets cold.”

He towel dries you and carries you, limp, to the bedroom; finds the baggiest t-shirt for you to snuggle up in and a pair of panties for your sore pussy. His sharp grin tells you everything you need to know before the words leave his mouth.

“I’ll come home early every day if I get to fuck you like that.”

[witchwyfe]

Can I request "places to kiss: hip" and rooster please!!

prompt - places to kiss: hip

pairing - bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x female reader

“No, don’t get up yet.”

You roll your eyes in amusement, propping your chin on your boyfriend’s stomach. Somehow, you’ve ended up lower than him on the mattress, and instead of dragging yourself up, you made yourself comfortable on his tummy. His hand threads through your hair, a groan passing through his lips.

“Bradley, I gotta pee.” You chuckle. “Two minutes and I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t leave me!” He whines, exaggeratedly, scrunching his eyes shut.

“Is this what you’re like on days off?” You wonder teasingly, running your hand along his happy trail. “All clingy and whiny?”

He doesn’t even answer, leveling a glare at you before letting his head flop back against his pillow. “Just hurry please.”

You press your lips to the exposed skin of his hipbone for a quick peck, before patting his stomach and pushing yourself off the bed.

True to your word, you’re back in less than two minutes, and the second you’re close enough, Bradley is tugging you back into bed, flush against him.

“To answer your question,” He murmurs, lips at your temple. “I’m not like this on days off. Just whenever I’m around you.”

“Sap,” You tease, giggling when his fingertips sweep over your ribs.

“Yeah baby, because of you.” He whispers. “You think I’m gonna have you in my bed with me, all snuggled up, and not be sappy?”

“Shut up,” You giggle again, a fond heat rising on your cheeks as you press your lips to his.

© witchwyfe 2023. absolutely no reposting, translating, or modifying, even with credit.

[fictionismyreality3]

Sleepy Rooster

Rooster x Reader

Tags: sleepy!rooster

Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, slight nsfw

Notes: dear god (awooga forearms) please let me die having been cuddled by this man AT LEAST once 🧎🏻‍♀️🙏🏻

With the grace of a Cold War spy, you tiptoed past the bed where your boyfriend lay snoring. Like usual, he came home from wherever the admiral had sent him, fucked you senseless, and then crashed on your bed to sleep for a good 20 hours.

Bradley had been gone for 3 weeks this time, and when he got back last night, the only thought on his mind was kissing you all over to make up for it. But now, with your body painted with the marks of his love, you wanted to show him how much you missed him in a way that didn’t involve letting him rail you into tomorrow. And so here you were, trying to creep out of your room to go make him breakfast.

He may have the eyes of a fighter pilot, but you could swear his hearing was otherworldly because just as your hand reached the doorknob, his raspy voice stopped you in your tracks.

“What’re you doin’, honey?” He said, eyes half lidded as he chuckled at your attempt to be sneaky. “I was trying to surprise you. I was gonna make you breakfast.” You pouted.

God, he loved that pout.

He loved watching the way you titled you head to the side like a cute little puppy, with the eyes to match the attitude.

“No, don’t get up, princess. I got all I need right here.” A lopsided grin spread across his still half-asleep face, and he opened his arms for you, pulling back the blanket so you could get underneath.

All of your desire to be a good girlfriend was replaced by giddy happiness as you practically jumped on Rooster to get back in bed. You found your usual place instantly, with your head against his chest and his strong arms around your back. Propping your chin up on your hand, you fiddled with his dog tags as you stared into his chocolate brown eyes.

“Love you, Roo.” You whispered as you played with the chain around his neck.

“Love you too, hun.” He cooed before a mischievous look came across his face. “Maybe I can have you for breakfast instead?”

“Bradley!”

[disturbedbeautywrites]

Sick Day - Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw

A/N: for my dear bestie @fandomxpreferences because she isn’t feeling the best and I needed to break my writers block 💚💜

The minute that you woke up, Bradley could tell something was wrong. You were sniffling, coughing, and wrapped up in all the blankets from your bed. He noticed as he was getting ready for work, his eyebrows raising as he walked over to the bed and sat down by you.

He didn’t say anything as he immediately put his wrist against your forehead, a frown settling deep in his features at the warmth he felt. “You’re burning up..” his voice was soft as he pushed your hair back from your face, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m going to call Mav and tell him I can’t make it to work today, he’ll understand.” Before you could even begin to disagree with him he was up and talking to Mav, their conversation lost amongst the sound of you coughing up a lung.

You felt absolutely miserable, your head pounding and your throat feeling like it was on fire. Every single breath you took felt like a knife to your lungs and every time you coughed you felt like your chest was about to split in two. You also were going from being absolutely burning up to freezing and it was absolute hell. “Okay, will do. Thanks Mav.” You heard Bradley say as he walked back towards your bedroom, his face softening as he took in how sad and sick you looked. He had a wet washcloth in his hand, preparing to give it to you.

“Okay, babe. I’m going to run to the store and get you some medicine. I’ll be back in a little bit. You rest until I get back.” He pressed a kiss to your head and helped you settle back in bed before he placed the cold washcloth to your scorching skin. He felt a small smile grace his lips as he heard a sigh of relief leave your lips at the cold contact; your eyes sliding closed as you drifted into a soft sleep.

You didn’t know how long you had been asleep for when you heard your bedroom door opening, the sound jostling you awake with a small grunt. You looked up to see your boyfriend walking in with a sheepish smile, grocery bags and flowers in hand. “Rooster..” the words died on your lips as he kneeled down next to you, putting the flowers on your night stand. “Listen, they were pretty and they reminded me of you.” The sentiment of the gesture had you blushing as he leaned in to press a kiss to your lips. “No! You’re going to get sick!” You pouted at him as he chuckled, giving you a goofy grin. “Oh, well. That would suck so bad to be stuck home with you.”

Your eyes rolled so hard you thought they were going to fall out of your head as he just smiled at you. “I’m going to go put the food in the kitchen, then I’m going to carry you into the living room.” He wasn’t asking as he gave you a militant nod and disappeared out of your room.

While he was gone you gathered up your blanket around you, preparing to be moved. Bradley came back in and carefully picked you up, making sure he supported your head and your back. “I’m going to give you the Carole Bradshaw sick day special. We’re going to watch movies together on the couch all day and just snuggle.” The way he was bringing up his mom made your heart melt as you looked up at the man you were in love with before laying your head against his chest. Your fever had gone down slightly and you weren’t so hot anymore, but it still felt good to lay against him.

He sat the both of you down on the couch, setting you between his legs as he pulled you back against his chest. He grabbed the medicine he had bought from the store and gave you it to take, handing you a cup of water to take it with. He kept his arm wrapped around your waist as he adjusted the blanket to cover both of you; a content sigh leaving his lips. He turned a random movie on and let you cuddle close to him, a soft sigh leaving your lips. “I love you.” Your words were laced with sleep as you heard Bradley repeat the words back to you.

The two of you spent the day curled up on the couch and watching random movies. When you were awake, Bradley would tell you stories about his mom taking care of him when he was sick and how he would sometimes fake it. But, his mom was enough of a saint to let him stay home anyways. You were smiling and laughing at the stories along with him, seeing the happiness shining bright in his eyes at the mention of his mother. It was a nice way to spend your day and by the end of it you were feeling completely better.

Taglist: @fandomxpreferences @shanimallina87 @ssprayberrythings @little-wiseone @mak-32 @cherrycola27 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @praline357 @withakindheartx @luvrrish @caatheeriinee07 @yogabigooby @southsideserendipity @bioodforbiood @atarmychick007 @ginger-gabsq @emorychase @thedroneranger @marantha @abaker74 @swagmakerzonkkid @daisyhollyxox @wkndwlff @ouralcohol @starlightstories @lex-winchester @darkheartcherry @khaylin27

[angelbabyange]

too cute, it suddenly made me feel mellow. i wish i had a bradley to pick me up on a bad day 🥺🫰🏼✨

A Not So Very Good Horribly Awful Day–Bradley Bradshaw oneshot

Top Gun Masterlist

Bradley Oneshot Masterlist

Word count: 1410

Warnings: pent up emotions, anxious tendencies

Feedback, asks, comments/reblogs mean the world to me!

a/n: this is very very self-indulgent because I had a very bad day today

Enjoy!

• • •

It’s day five of not feeling well. It all started with a bad migraine that made your head feel like a thousand pounds followed by feeling lightheaded and extremely tired when you’d come home from work. You took some Excedrin but it only made the dizziness worse and all you wanted was Bradley but he’s been gone on a training exercise so you had to suffer alone. 

Waking up to a text that one of your co-workers called in sick did not help your mood at all. It was a long, busy, horrible day that left you irritable. While you carried on with your tasks, someone from a different location came to help but you weren’t notified so you had to do some quick thinking on how to accommodate them. 

You had to cancel your chiropractor appointment which you were upset about because you knew the adjustment would help with what you’ve been feeling for the last several days. On top of that, you still had to go to the store to pick up ingredients for a small BBQ you and Bradley were invited to later in the week. When closing time came, a shelf you were putting things on decided to just collapse and all the papers scattered in a heap on the floor. 

You stared at the papers waiting for the earth to open up and swallow you whole but with a heavy sigh, you bent down and fixed the papers. You struggled for a good five minutes with the shelf then bumped your shoulder on the corner causing you to hiss at the sharp pain that went down your arm. 

This is the second time you had to stay late at work and all you wanted was to go home but after sitting in your car for a good thirty seconds, you drove in the direction of the grocery store. Upon entering, you saw how long the lines were at all of the checkout lanes and you groaned. Could you seriously not catch a break? Not just today, but any day?

Aimlessly you wandered up and down the aisles as you collected the food for the get together and also some comfort snacks for you. As you reached in one of the fridge doors, you saw the tip of your nail had somehow broken off and you quickly bit your lip. What a perfect way to bring your horribly awful day to a standstill. 

Thankfully, the lines were gone from the checkout so you checked yourself out as quickly as possible and left the store. 

When you were home, you put everything away and opened the freezer so you could make yourself an ice cream sundae. Opening the door, your heart fell to your stomach because it was empty. Where was the ice cream? 

Not being able to hold it in any longer, your face twisted and tears stung your eyes as they broke the barrier of your lids. With one hand still on the freezer door, it was your anchor so you didn’t collapse onto the floor. Using your body, you shut the door and leaned on it as you cried. But before you could actually have a good crying session, the front door opened.

“Honey, I’m home! Where’s my favorite girl at?” Bradley’s voice is sunshine coded as he comes inside.

You wipe away your tears quickly, sniffling your nose and composing yourself. He’s always in such a happy mood and you never want to bring him down with your stormy rain clouds. 

“Hey!” you try to make your voice sound normal, happy. “I’m in the kitchen.”

He turns the corner just as you straighten up from the fridge and your heart twists in a loving way at the sight of him. His nose is a little red as he removes his aviators, his brown eyes filled with specks of light. He’s made it a habit to never have his service khaki’s or flight suits on when he comes home to you because he wants to keep work and you separate. He has on the Hawaiian shirt you gave him for his birthday.

He knows how much you worry while he’s gone and he tries not to remind you of it, even though you don’t mind seeing him in his uniform. That twists your heart in a different way. 

Bradley tosses his aviators on the counter,  his arms reaching for you as he frowns at your disposition. You shake your head, bite your lip, and hug your arms around yourself.

“Honey, what is it?” he takes you in his arms, his cheek pressing to the top of your head. You breathe him in, the fresh smell of his soap and cologne bring you over the edge again because he smells like your safe space. “Did you have a bad day?”

You nod against him and he sighs. He gives your head a few kisses before pulling away slightly so he can look down at you. Using his foot, he hooks it in the stool leg then sits down so he’s at your level. He moves you in between his legs.

“What happened?” he asks softly.

Being in his safe presence allows you to expel what you’ve been holding in for so long. Not only just the bad things that happened today, but all week and even months before of thoughts that have plagued you. You’re speaking very fast and you’re not sure you’re making sense, but Bradley listens intently. His hands rub up and down your arms in comfort as you spill your guts. 

“And now there’s no ice cream left,” you finish and that starts the water works up again. You lean forward pressing your forehead to his shoulder and he hugs you again.

“Aw baby, I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with this,” his voice is soft and raspy in your ear. “And while you’ve been in pain, but I’m here now. Let’s go get your ice cream, hm?”

“But you just got home, you don’t like to go out–”

“My girl’s upset,” he speaks over you with a shake of his head. “When I’m home, you’re my first priority. C’mon.”

***

“How was that?” Bradley asks when you’ve just finished your sundae. You’re both sat on the couch in comfy clothes with Parks and Rec playing on the TV. 

“Delicious, my tummy’s happy,” you nod then suck off the rest of the hot fudge from your spoon. 

“Good. Here’s my cherry,” he scoops up the small red fruit on his spoon and holds it over to you. 

You take it gladly, enjoying the sweet burst of cherry juice on your tongue. While you finish chewing, Bradley sets your dishes on the coffee table then gets up from the couch, earning a disgruntled squeak from you. 

“‘M just movin’ over here,” he chuckles, sitting in the corner of the couch. He pats his lap and chest at you. “C’mere. I’ll rub your back and play with your hair but then you can still watch the show.”

You scramble over to him, straddle his lap and rest your head in the crook of his neck and chest, the perfect space for you to lay. His long fingers rub at the nape of your neck before tangling in your hair. Your body starts to relax as his fingers move down your back and under your shirt. You melt against him, his fingers tickling your back in wide arches and delicate caresses. 

“You know you don’t have to keep it together all the time for me,” he says. “Or at all, for that matter. I hate seeing you spread yourself so thin.”

“It’s hard to ask for help. I don't want to burden anyone with my mediocre problems.”

“They’re not mediocre,” he shakes his head. “Your problems are just as important as anyone else’s. What time do you work tomorrow?”

“Eight, but I have a half day.”

“Good. I’ll drive you to work then I’ll pick you up and we’ll have a relaxing day. First thing we’ll do is go get your nail fixed.”

“Really?” you tilt your head to gaze up at him, the TV flashes on his face. 

“Really,” he smiles.

You stretch up with one hand on his jaw and kiss him, relishing in the soft scratchiness of his mustache on your lips. He even tastes like sunshine. His hands under your shirt squeeze you against him and you tangle your fingers in his hair.

[lulunothulu]

“Happy surprise ”

Glen Powell x Reader

In honor of it being Glen’s birthday, let’s surprise him for his birthday on set. Happy birthday Glen 💗

You were only planning on visiting Glen at the end of the filming schedule. So when you found yourself flying to his next movie set ahead of schedule…(you couldn’t help but want to smack your hands.)

Glen wouldn’t mind, you just didn’t want to be a distraction. In fact, Glen has been begging you to come visit him before the end of shooting.

You push those feelings of doubt out of your mind and smile to yourself because not only will you be surprising him for no reason, it’s his birthday.

Once the plane lands, you call an uber and get dropped off by the trailers. Because the only other person who knows you’re coming is Glen’s mom, Cyndy, you text her letting her know you’re here.

She texts back, telling you to meet them at Glen’s trailer that’s about four trailers down from where you’re standing.

You’re starting to get giddy and excited to see him. Every sort of ounce of energy is pushing you to walk faster toward his trailer and you can’t help but smile the whole way there.

By the time you reach the trailer, you’re panting lightly, and your heart is racing in anticipation of what Glen will say and do when he sees you.

You don’t have to wait because one second you’re sitting on the steps to his trailer, the next you hear him gasping before you.

“Y/N?!” He shouts excitedly. He races toward you, arms wide and ready for a hug.

When he reaches you, you’re lifted up and into his arms like you weigh nothing to him.

“Glen!” You squeal.

“I can’t help it, baby,” he tells you. “I’ve missed you and I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I wanted to surprise you for your birthday,” you tell him. “Are you surprised?”

“Am I surprised?” He laughs. “Baby, I’m so surprised and glad you’re here.”

“Good, and you can thank Mama Powell,” you tell him.

He sets you down before turning to face his mom with a wide smile. “Mom?”

She nods. “I wanted her to be here for your birthday as much as you did.”

“Thank you,” he smiles, tears forming in his eyes. He turns to you before hugging you tightly again. “And thank you for coming. I’ve missed you.”

“You’re welcome,” you respond. “I’ve missed you too. Oh and Glen?”

“What is it baby?”

“Happy birthday.”

This wasn’t proof read so I’m sorry if there’s mistakes 😭 check out my Masterlist for more 🦋