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roosterforme · 3 months ago

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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 21 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is learning firsthand just how lonely a deployment can be when he's gotten used to talking to you all the time. You are more than happy to record your daily adventures for him, including your steamy ones.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, masturbation, adult language, romantic Bradley, 18+

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Your original plan to commute to work from your apartment in Mira Mesa went out the window after the box from Bradley arrived. Suddenly his place seemed cozier now that there were tidy rows of envelopes from him covering the table in the living room. You sipped a mug of coffee and looked at all of them, selecting the one that said Open me with your class.

"Whatever you say, Bradley," you murmured with a smile, tucking it into your tote bag for work. You missed your kids almost as much as you missed him, but at least you'd finally get to see them today. You just hoped there was something upbeat in the note, because you were going to have to inform them that he'd be gone until Career Day. Or maybe longer.

Opening the note that was meant for you and your class before digging into all the others just felt right. Really, he was a faithful pen pal to all nineteen of you, even if his current letters were pre-written. As you drove to work, you wondered how long it would take your students to ask about Bradley. Turns out, it didn't take too long at all.

You were standing behind your desk, getting hugs from some of the kids as they got reacquainted with each other and the classroom for the first time in almost two weeks when Jayden asked, "What did you get Lieutenant Bradshaw for Christmas?"

Images of lingerie danced in your head as you cleared your throat. "Stationery," you replied. "So he can write us letters while he's deployed."

"He's deployed?" asked Nia, face lighting up. "With Marty?"

"Can we do another drawing contest with him?" shouted Oliver, already getting colored pencils out of his desk.

"Will you ask if he's allowed to take a video while he's flying this time?" Violet asked calmly.

"Actually," you replied, walking slowly to the front of the room with a single envelope in your hands, "we can't do any of those things. He's not allowed to communicate with anyone who isn't on the aircraft carrier this time around. If he writes to us, he'll have to save the letters until he returns."

Everyone stared blankly at you.

Jackie raised her hand. When you pointed to her, she said, "But we're not like random people. We're students of aviation. We're his pen pals."

"Yeah!" came a chorus of voices, and you were half tempted to write up a petition to the Navy for all of them to sign.

You had to clap your hands and wait for them to clap in response after they all quieted down again. "I have a note that he wants me to open with you. Should we do that now?"

After literally everyone agreed that was a good idea, you opened it and found a handwritten link to a YouTube video followed by a short note that you read out loud.

"Greetings, Fourth Graders,

By the time you read this, it will be January, and I'll be on an aircraft carrier in the Atlantic Ocean for a seven week deployment. I'm sure your lovely teacher has explained that sending and receiving letters is sadly not a possibility for me right now. I'm going to need you to keep track of all your questions about aviation until I get back for Career Day next month. I'll bring some of my friends along, and we can answer them for you then. Sound good?

Make sure you listen to your teacher, and I'll see you all in February.

Yours Truly,

Lieutenant Bradshaw"

You looked up from the notecard and added, "He also included a link to a YouTube video. Should we check it out now?"

It was actually amazing how quietly they all sat in anticipation while you set up your projector and typed out the link. When you turned out the lights, you had to grab onto the edge of your desk as Bradley's face and voice filled your classroom, even though he wasn't actually there. The twenty minute video began with him sitting on his living room couch in his worn out jeans and the Top Gun shirt you wore to bed last night, and you realized he must have filmed this on Christmas Eve when you were out with Natasha.

"Hi, everyone," said video Bradley as he waved to his phone camera. "I thought I would try my hand at a little lesson on aviation so your teacher could get a break. Make sure you take notes. There will be a quiz the next time I see you."

All of your students were watching him with rapt attention and pencils poised over their notebooks. Bradley kept them engaged and entertained while you fell even more in love.

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

"What the fuck?" Bradley groaned as he sank down into an empty spot on one of the long benches in the mess hall. The spaghetti looked like mush, but his stomach was growling so aggressively, he decided to take a bite anyway. It tasted just as bad as it looked, and he grimaced as he started to shovel it into his mouth anyway.

What he wouldn't give for dinner at Salvatore's. Mouthwatering pasta. Expensive as hell wine. You in a short little dress with his hands all over your thighs. Maybe Bronco parking lot sex.

Instead he got another USS Gerald R. Ford meal which was barely edible, and a view of a very hairy Atlantic Fleet aviator with the call sign Curly. Fantastic. Even the garlic bread was so stale it was hard to chew, but if he didn't eat, he would start losing weight. And if he started losing weight, it would make working out harder, which would suck, because going to the gym was his main source of entertainment.

Other than writing letters he couldn't send.

"Are you gonna finish that?" Curly asked, pointing at the roll Bradley only bit the corner of.

"It's all yours, man," he replied, watching the other aviator pick it up and crunch on it with a smile.

Bradley picked up his tray with the intention of heading to his bunk to change into gym clothes, but when he got there, he collapsed onto the twin sized bed instead. It was clear that he'd only been brought along for this deployment to fly one very specific mission, because as a whole, the Atlantic Fleet pilots were young and green. But as a result of the current political climate, he had internet access completely taken away from him, and he was stuck here for five more weeks with nothing to keep him sane. He didn't even have Marty this time around. Just the pretty stationery set you gave him and the holiday cards from your students.

So he would do what he always did now. He would write. To all nineteen of you. But mostly to you. He realized, like he always did, that this was probably the most boring shit that anyone would ever read. How many times could you really read about your boyfriend telling you that he loved you and missed you. It wasn't like he was writing elegant poetry here.

Gorgeous, I miss you so much. You'd cry if you saw the spaghetti I had to eat for dinner. First thing I'm doing when I get home (besides you) is driving us to Salvatore's, and I won't stop eating until I pass out. The Atlantic Fleet food makes the Pacific Fleet cabbage rolls seem like a delicacy, and the US fucking Navy can quote me on that.

I love you. I wish you knew I was coming back to you instead of Norfolk. I wish I could ask you to use the credit card in my sock drawer to fully stock the refrigerator before I get home. The only things I want to do for three solid days after I arrive back in San Diego are eat, sleep, and fuck my girlfriend.

Definitely not poetry. "Was my writing this shitty last time around?" he murmured to himself with a laugh. It couldn't have been if you kept responding to him for the duration of that deployment. Just thinking about your letters, both professional and personal, made him ache right now. Your emails and your sassy selfies and the sunset photos were things he didn't even know he had been taking for granted.

One letter from you now would have made everything so much better. With a deep sigh, Bradley changed to head to the gym.

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Time passed slowly. Packing up and moving boxes of your things from Mira Mesa to Coronado helped, but you were a little too nervous to unpack too much other than the necessities. You didn't even want to think about that right now. All you wanted to do was plan your next visit to the wine bar with Natasha so you felt a little less lonely.

As you hung the framed blueprint of the Super Hornet Bradley gave you in the living room, you realized he would have to be lonelier than you were. At least you had Jayden's tales of Vanessa the dog to make you laugh during the work day. And you went out to dinner with some of your friends you hadn't seen recently. And you had a never ending text thread with Natasha now.

There was a pretty good chance Bradley didn't know anyone on this deployment, and you wondered if he was spending a lot of time in the gym. What you wouldn't give for a gym selfie. You collapsed onto the couch and scrolled through the images of your boyfriend that you had saved to your phone.

"God," you moaned. He was so hot. Especially in front of a sunset. Especially with your lipgloss smudged on his cheek. Especially when he was looking at you in his arms instead of at the camera. "Fuck."

When someone knocked on the door, you nearly fell off the couch. Your eyes caught on the envelopes from Bradley that you hadn't yet opened lined up on the coffee table as you walked across the room. The last time you had an unexpected visitor, it was Natasha. The time before that, it was Vanessa. You didn't know who to expect, but you squared your shoulders and pulled the door open with an abundance of attitude only to find a slightly hunched over older woman standing there.

"Oh!" you said, immediately softening your stance. "What can I do for you?"

She looked from you to the Bronco in the driveway and then back again. "Is Bradley home?"

"No, he's not," you told her, unsure about how much information to give. "Is there something you need?"

She eyed you carefully. "Are you his girlfriend? The teacher he fell in love with?" This stranger knew who you were. When you gave her a concerned look and took a step away from her, she said, "I'm Edith. I live next door. Sometimes Bradley helps me with yard work and repairs around my property." She smiled and added, "He only lets me pay him in piano lessons."

"Edith!" You told her your name with a smile. You knew exactly who she was, because the first time Bradley wrote to you about getting piano lessons from his retired neighbor, you fell halfway in love with him on the spot. "Right, of course! Bradley is actually deployed for a few more weeks." She looked immediately dejected, so you asked, "Did you need help with something?"

"I don't want to bother you with it," she said immediately.

"Please," you replied, already reaching for your shoes. "I'm so bored without Bradley around. I would absolutely love a distraction, Edith."

She wrung her hands and then held them up. "Well, I can't change my light bulbs, because my arthritis is bad this time of year when it gets chilly out. And my back patio is so dark at night, I can't see anything."

"Say no more," you told her, joining her on the porch and closing the door behind you.

It only took you a few minutes to change the exterior light bulbs and rearrange her patio furniture. Then you cocked your head to the side and asked, "Is something beeping?"

Edith sighed. "My smoke detector needs new batteries."

"I'm on it."

She led you inside the sliding glass door, into her kitchen where the beeping was annoying enough that you didn't know how this woman could have slept in the house unless her hearing was starting to slip. Edith told you where you could find a step ladder and new batteries, and once you finished that chore, she started digging around in her purse, pulling out five dollars.

"Thank you for your help," she said, trying to hand it to you as you walked past the piano with the step ladder.

"I am absolutely not accepting your money, Edith. This was the most entertaining part of my day. As long as your arthritis allows it, you can pay Bradley in extra piano lessons when he returns."

The idea of Norfolk suddenly made you feel anxious, but Edith smiled. "Oh, he's an advanced student. He mostly just plays from memory. I only point out when he's flat instead of sharp."

You weren't sure how long it had been since Bradley checked in with her, but as long as he was allowed to come back to San Diego, you'd make sure he did it more often. "I'll send him over as soon as he gets back."

Edith smiled knowingly. "Something tells me he's not going to want to leave your side right when he gets back. But maybe after a day or two, you could send him over?"

"I'll do that," you told her with a chuckle.

After you walked back across the yard and let yourself inside, you kicked off your shoes and decided to treat yourself with one of Bradley's notes. You'd been trying to ration them, but they were all so tempting. The ones you had already opened were stacked up on the kitchen counter where you could easily find them to read them again and again. You took a few seconds to decide which one felt right, and you settled on Open me when you need a laugh.

Inside the envelope, you found no note at all. There was just one photo, and when you pulled it out, you burst into laughter. Natasha was right; twenty-two year old Bradley was endearingly skinny and mustache-less. He still wore that same grin today, but he really grew into his frame. You marveled over how fresh his scars looked in the picture, deciding to hang it up in the bedroom for now.

And when you woke up on Sunday, the photo was the first thing you saw.

You reached for your phone thinking you could text Bradley before tossing it aside in frustration. You were frustrated in every way. Mentally and emotionally, but also physically. You missed sleeping next to him most nights. You missed his warmth and the way he kissed you. His strong body and attentive hands.

When you tried to burrow down under the covers in just his sweatshirt to go back to sleep, your skin felt like it was charged. Like there was an undercurrent of need that nothing would soothe except for Bradley.

Open me when you're in bed

That's what one of the envelopes said. You bit your lip before burying your face in Bradley's pillow and moaning. The need was still there, more palpable by the second. You had about an hour before Natasha was supposed to pick you up for brunch and the wine bar; it was the perfect time to read that note.

You ran down the hallway to the coffee table, grabbed the envelope, and took it straight back to bed. Your curiosity had been gnawing away at your mind over what could be in the note meant for the quiet solitude of the bedroom, and now was your chance to find out as you slipped back under the covers.

Gorgeous,

You better be in our bed right now. Maybe you just got home from work. Maybe you're still waking up for the day. Maybe you're ready to fall asleep soon, but you just need something to take the edge off. It doesn't matter, as long as you're thinking about me and my hands all over your body. I hope you're ready to read about how I would take care of you right now.... in an abundance of detail.

You moaned as you looked around the room, wide-eyed like someone was going to catch on to what he had written to you. Desire flared inside you as you squeezed your thighs together and took a few deep breaths before continuing to read.

You're beautiful inside and out. It's no surprise that you really get me going. One thought about the soft swell of your ass or the way you taste when you cum is enough to get me seriously hard. Jerking off while thinking about you is fantastic, but nothing compares to the real thing. Next time I see you, we're taking our time to get reacquainted, but right now, if I could have you, it would be fast and dirty.

"Oh god," you groaned, closing your eyes as you pushed his sweatshirt up, letting cool air meet your warm skin. Then your hand slid down to the apex of your thighs, and you weren't at all surprised to find you were wet.

You look sinful in that bed. I just know it. I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off you. My lips would find your breasts before sampling my way down your belly to that soaking wet pussy. When I say every inch of your body is Gorgeous, I mean it. You've got such a tight, pretty little pussy, and I would love to tease you until you're so worked up, you're practically crying. Just my mouth and fingers until you're begging for my cock, Gorgeous. Go ahead. Beg for it.

"Bradley," you moaned softly, a complete mess for your boyfriend even when he wasn't with you.

Good girl. Now touch yourself just how I'd touch you. Rub yourself just right. Use two of those fingers to warm yourself up and then dip them down inside that perfect pussy. So fucking tight, you drive me insane when I can't be with you. I'd be right above you, singing your praises, telling you how much I love you, and pumping my fingers in and out of that pussy while you whine and beg.

This note was absolutely lethal. You were already close. Sweat beaded on your brow as you stroked your fingers along your clit before pumping them inside you. His name was never far from your lips as you kept reading.

You taste so fucking sweet. I'd run my tongue everywhere until you couldn't stand it. I would eat your pussy until you cum in my mouth. I'd keep going until I couldn't handle how badly I needed you. Then I'd fuck you so hard and fast, you'd have tears in your eyes, voice ragged as my body slapped against yours. Tits bouncing as I bottomed out, holding you in place as I came inside you. And then I would let you know that I'm yours.

I'm all yours, Gorgeous. You absolutely own me.

You were panting, grinding the heel of your hand against your clit as you came. Bradley's note fell from your fingers as your back arched off the bed, and you grabbed the sheet as you cried out. You could hear something familiar mingling with your own voice, but it took you a second to realize your phone was ringing as you writhed around in bed, heart pounding fast from your orgasm. You rolled onto your belly and grabbed your phone as you sucked air into your lungs.

Natasha Trace

Shit. Shit. You tried to get your breathing under control as you answered her call, but you even sounded strange to your own ears as you said, "Hello?"

There was a pause before Natasha asked, "I'm leaving now, and I might stop for a fancy coffee on my way to get you. Do you want something?"

"Sure!" you replied, trying your best to sound casual, but pretty sure you were failing.

"I'll be there soon."

You dropped your phone and reached for the journal instead to let Bradley know just how hard you came for him before you got dressed for the day.

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

"Bradshaw!"

It felt like an almost foreign concept for Bradley to hear his name now. Essentially nobody spoke to him outside of his mandatory meetings, and he'd spent so little time in a cockpit over the last few weeks, he spun around in surprise when someone called him.

Of course it was Admiral Walker. Bradley wasn't sure if he was being punished for what Cyclone had done, but he was hardly given any flight tasks to work on. But now that his deployment was starting to wind down, he realized the danger he was going to be flying into for his mission was much more than he originally anticipated.

"Admiral Walker, Sir?" he replied, saluting his superior officer. He wasn't looking to ruffle any more feathers here as long as it meant he'd be going home to you before too long. He felt sick with longing, missing you so much, especially at night, that he hurt until he was finally able to fall asleep. And then he'd wake up to the same choking feeling all over again the following day.

The older man examined him closely for a few beats before saying, "The weather looks ideal for tomorrow. You're team leader. Be ready to go at first light."

"Yes, Sir," he replied, because there was really nothing else to say. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could return home to his house in Coronado where you lived now. Where you were waiting for him. He just needed to get through this safely.

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I hate how isolated he feels. He's not thriving. He's not even eating well. He needs a hug. Gorgeous is enjoying the box of letters even is she is missing him terribly. I think I'll send him home soon. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 22

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