#rooster bradshaw one shot

[katsu28]

to the moon and back

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x reader 

summary: bradley tries to surprise you with a Valentine’s Day date night, and you surprise him right back with something else 

warnings: none! just 2k of lovey dovey fluff

a/n: happy early valentine’s day besties!!! if u don’t have one ur gonna be mine now ok MWAH love u to the moon and back ;)

navigation

There wasn’t supposed to be anyone in your apartment right now. 

You lived alone, and the only other person who had a key to your place was your boyfriend, and Bradley was meant to be on base all day, so when you got home today and saw a pair of shoes that weren’t yours nudged off to the side of the front door, you were entirely confused. Bradley’s Bronco wasn’t parked in the driveway like it usually was when he came over, but those were most definitely his shoes. 

“Bradley? You here?” You called warily, toeing off your own shoes. Normally, he’d respond immediately, oftentimes barreling out of wherever he was to come wrap you in a hug, or (no matter how much you pretended to hate it) grabbing you from behind as you went looking for him, peppering your neck with kisses until you begged him to stop. 

There was no answer, but an assortment of things were spread out on the kitchen counter when you made your way there—a bouquet of flowers, a few bags filled to the brim with groceries, a bottle of wine—but no Bradley anywhere to be found. 

It wasn’t until you ventured towards the living room that you found him. Bradley was sprawled out on the couch, long legs thrown over the armrest on one side while his head laid propped up on a pillow at the other end. His arms were crossed over his chest, mouth hung slightly open whilst he snored away, blissfully unaware that you were home. 

As cute as he looked sleeping, you perched at the edge of the couch, giving his shoulder a gentle nudge so as not to startle him awake. When that didn’t work, you pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek. 

Bradley inhaled a deep breath at the feeling of your lips against his skin, craning his neck to take in his surroundings as he blinked awake slowly. 

“Mornin’, stranger,” You hummed, smoothing his hair away from his forehead. His bleary eyes focused on you, widening instantly. 

“Oh fuck!” He breathed, jumping a little in his laid back position. 

“Hi to you too, Bradley.” 

“Sorry. I mean, hi. It’s just—shit, I was gonna surprise you when you came home.” 

“Oh don’t worry, I was. Y’know, when I gave you a key, I didn’t mean use it so you can take a nap on my couch,” You teased. 

“I didn’t mean to!” He groaned, dragging both hands down his face. “I had this whole Valentine’s date night thing planned, I got wine and flowers and I was gonna make dinner, but I sat down for literally just a second and now…” 

“Hey, Valentine’s Day isn’t over yet. We can still do that,” You hummed, lacing your fingers through his with a pat to his knee. 

“Yeah, you’re right. Or,” he sat up suddenly, lunging and pulling you on top of him in one fell swoop, “we could just stay here on this couch all night, doing…stuff.” His nose rubbed against your cheek, lips following soon after in an attempt to bribe you to stay put. 

“While ‘stuff’ does sound very enticing, I’m actually kinda hungry, so…” Bradley was up in a split second, hefting you over his shoulder with ease. “Bradley!” You squealed, clutching at the hem of his shirt for leverage as he hiked over to the kitchen and planted you on one of the barstools. 

“You, stay right there. Do not let that cute butt leave that stool until I’m done here, got it?” He ordered, pointing at you with raised brows. You nodded, propping your chin up in your hand with a barely contained smile. He shuffled towards one of the cabinets, grabbing a wine glass and popping open the bottle he’d brought, pouring you a nice glass then cracking open a beer from the fridge for himself. 

He expertly located a vase in a different cabinet and filled it with water before sliding all three items across the counter to you. “These are for you, by the way.” 

“You know my favorites.” Your smile grew even wider at the thought, if at all possible. Bradley knew you well enough to get your favorite flowers and wine without even having to ask.

He snorted, seemingly offended that you dared mention it. “‘Course I know your favorites. It’s like, at the very front of my brain, all the time. The most important stuff, y’know?” 

“I feel like the most important stuff should be Navy related, no? Mister flies-a-multi-million-dollar-jet for a living.” 

“Yeah, that’s important too. But tell me who knows all your favorite things off the top of their head? You don’t even really have to tell me because the answer is me.” 

“Okay hotshot, if you’re such an expert, what’s for dinner?” 

He rattled off your favorite meal and dessert immediately, barely a second of hesitation before he started unpacking the bags on the counter. “Put the flowers in the vase for me, would ya? Make ‘em real nice and pretty, ‘cause that’s all I’m letting you do for the rest of the night.” 

“Bradley,” You whined, pouting at him. “I wanna help!” 

“No, this is my thing. Get your own!” 

“You’re insufferable.” You huffed, glaring at him sulkily. Bradley didn’t respond, just winked at you as he donned the hot pink ‘Kiss the chef’ apron you’d gotten for him as a joke a few months ago. You thought he’d hate it, but to your surprise, he was actually quite taken with it, opting to put it on every time he was in your kitchen and demand kisses “because the apron said so”. 

Dinner was ready soon enough, and now you were sat down at the table, thoroughly wiped from the long day you’d both had but still happy to spend this time with each other. You’d never get tired of seeing Bradley sitting across from you almost everyday, but especially today with how thoughtful he was being. It made you feel warm and fuzzy inside. Loved. Like you always did with him. 

“Thank you for making dinner, Bradley, this looks—wow, this looks amazing.”

“‘Course, anything for my girl. Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.” He held his beer out to cheers your wine glass, beaming at you. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Bradley.” 

“Okay, not to, like, diminish the romance here, but I really think this is some of my best cooking yet, so dig in.” 

-------

Dinner and dessert had been long since finished, but you and Bradley were still sitting at the table, where he had just finished telling you about how Fanboy had accidentally turned Payback’s underwear pink by putting a red shirt in the laundry. 

Bradley’s hand lifted to scratch at his cheek, and with that action you suddenly remembered something. 

“I have something for you.” You blurted, lips quirking up into a smile. 

“Please tell me it’s just you, me, and the rest of this wine while we watch shitty romcoms, because I really don’t need anything other than that.” 

“It’s just a little thing!” You protested, sliding out of your chair and dropping a kiss to his cheek before hurrying to your room to grab it. Bradley was still sitting in his seat when you returned, though he was now sporting a rather confused look on his face when you perched at the edge of the table, pressing a wooden box into his palm. “For Valentine’s Day. My gift to you.” 

“What is this?” He asked softly, looking up at you. You just smiled warmly, nodding for him to open it and he did, brow creasing for a split second at the contents. Sitting inside was a vintage watch, a little scuffed on the face with a leather strap weathered from use, but still ticking strongly. 

You gauged his reaction carefully, waiting for the moment his confusion turned to realization at what he was actually holding in his hands. 

“Wait. Is this…” He trailed off, flipping it around carefully, looking for the telltale inscription on the back that would confirm his suspicions. Just as he thought, the words etched into the metal were just as he remembered them, the same words he’d read and reread a thousand times when he was a kid. 

My darling Nick, I love you to the moon and back. Love, your Carole.

Disbelieved, Bradley’s eyes flicked to you, mouth dropping open just the tiniest bit. “This is my dad’s.”

You nodded, drawing your lower lip between your teeth. His face split into a blinding grin, one so big that his eyes crinkled at the edges as he leaned forward in his chair, one large hand splaying along your back to pull you across his lap with ease. 

“You like it?” 

“Like it? I love it.” He nodded earnestly, placing the watch gently back into the box before giving your hip a little squeeze. “Little thing, my ass! Honey, this is…so much more than just a little thing, where’d you even find it?” 

“I can’t take all the credit here, I did have a little help from Mav. He’s the one who dug it out of all of your mom’s stuff.” 

“And you got it working again!” 

“Took it to a watch repair shop a few towns over.” You shrugged, tracing a finger along the buttons of his shirt. “I was gonna replace the glass over the face, but I figured you’d wanna keep it just the way your dad did. We can still switch it out if you want though—” 

Bradley shook his head profusely. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. You’re literally perfect, and I’m—shit, how did I get so lucky to find you?” 

“Funny, I ask myself the same thing about you all the time.” You said softly, taking his face in your hands and pressing your forehead against his. Bradley’s eyes fell shut briefly as he leaned into your touch, arms tightening around your waist until there wasn’t any more space between the two of you. 

You took advantage of that closeness to take him by surprise, kissing him square on the mouth, firm but slow. You hoped he could feel how much you loved him through it. 

Bradley’s hand found your knee, giving it a squeeze before starting to rub mindless circles as he kissed you back passionately. It would be totally cliche to say that his kiss sent butterflies through your stomach, his touch sending electricity through your veins, but you’d gladly use every single cliche in the book to describe the way Bradley Bradshaw made you feel, right now, all the time, every single moment you were with him. Even times when you weren’t with him too. That was just the effect he had on you. 

“I love you to the moon and back, sweet girl.” 

You beamed. “Yeah?” 

“Absolutely yeah. You’re the girl of my dreams, and I promise you, I’m gonna marry you one day.” 

“Wow, big dreams, huh?” You teased, sliding your hand into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Well y’know what they say, go big or go home,” He shrugged, offering you a cheeky wink. “And I, for one, am not planning on going home anytime soon.” 

“That’s presumptuous of you.” 

“Oh please, like you were gonna let me leave tonight in the first place.” 

“You’re never leaving, Bradley Bradshaw.” You murmured, stroking your thumb across his cheek. “I’m gonna keep you forever, you wanna know why?” 

Bradley looked equal parts pleased and amused, eyes shining with nothing but the purest of love as he gazed at you. “Why?” 

“‘Cause I love you to the moon and back.”

“There you go again,” He sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Taking my thing.” 

“Uh no, technically it was your parents’ thing.” You fired back, tipping your chin up defiantly. Bradley laughed, a booming chuckle that resonated through your body. 

“So it’s a Bradshaw thing.” 

“According to you, I’ll be a Bradshaw one day, so…” 

“What a day that’ll be, huh, sweetheart? Gonna be the best day of my life.” 

“Well then you better hurry up and propose to me already, shouldn’t you?” 

“Look who’s presumptuous now!” 

“You’re insufferable, Bradshaw.”

It wouldn’t be now, and maybe it wouldn’t be any time soon, but when the day came and the question was popped, there was nobody else you’d even dream of spending the rest of your life with other than the insufferable Bradley Bradshaw. 

taglist!

@jakexfmc @oliviah-25 @yearningforeddiemunson @atarmychick007 @theliterarybeldam @katieshook02 @lilyevanswhore @s00buwu @mak-32 @littlebugs @avengersfan25 @wkndwlff @alexxavicry @xcastawayherosx @glenpowellsstargirl @liveloudwriteloud @caatheeriinee07 @lunamooncole @maciejane @julesclues @random-human02 @waywardhunter95 @mystickenz @godabandonedthistimeline @yelrah127 @iambuckysbae @cdauni @t0kyoreveng3rs @ravenhood2792 @mayempress

[valhallaas]

That’s My Girl

pairing: bradley rooster bradshaw x sunshine!reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: SMUT (18+, minors dni) vaginal fingering, p in v, cream pie (wrap it up, pals) jake stirring the pot like the shithead he is

summary: when everyone but rooster sees it, there’s always a texan willing to step up to the plate. 

a/n: not me cackling while writing this like some crazed woman. ya’ll can blame @glen-powells​​ for this. the text messages can prove it. 

Part 2

Part 3

It surprises you every time you come back to the Hard Deck how it hasn’t changed. At least the atmosphere. Civilians and aviators alike. Penny grins at you when you walk in. Elbowing your way through the crowd, you take a seat at the bar, leaning far enough over to let her kiss you on the cheek. Her and your mom had been best friends. Penny’s known you since you were in diapers, helped your mom through the divorce, and helped you when she passed away. You always did your best to come visit her when you could. You’re on leave for the next two months and you aren’t wasting it anywhere else but here.

“Long time no see.” Penny says as she grabs you a drink.

You only grin. “You’ll be seeing so much of me, you’ll be sick of me.”

“Is free labor included in that?”

“Always.” A two toned whistle catches your attention. Turning to look behind you, you sigh at the sight. Holy shit. They’re all here. Your eyes narrow at the blonde, his grin widening when he catches you staring. “Maybe not tonight, Pen.”

Penny shakes her head. “I didn’t think so. Go on, then.”

Throwing her a grateful smile, you’re up and heading towards the pool table. It’s a reunion, no doubt. You’d been overseas the last few months. Seeing everyone here is a blessing. You can’t help the splitting grin on your face when Bob wraps you up right in his arms. How the two of you hit it off, you’ll never know, but you aren’t complaining.

“Look who it is, folks. Our Sunny girl. Did ya’ll see it get brighter in here when she walked in?”

Your eyes roll so far into the back of your head you’re surprised they don’t get stuck. Turning, you come face to face with the blonde who’d called for your attention.

“Hangman,”

He pulls the toothpick out of his mouth and winks. “Sunshine.”

“What’s got y’all here?”

“You.” Phoenix answers, standing from where she knocked two solids in at the pool table.

You turn to look back at the bar. Penny’s already looking at you with a smirk. What a little sneak. You should’ve known she let you go too easily. Shaking your head you step forward and snag the pool stick from Hangman. He smirks, but doesn’t say anything. You quirk an eyebrow. Lieutenant Jake Seresin keeping his mouth shut? It’s a goddamn miracle. His eyes never leave you as the game finishes. Phoenix grumbles at her loss, you were three shots behind when you started. It’s not your fault that you’re good, that you’re very good. Handing the stick off to Bob, your eyes scan the bar. It’s been almost thirty minutes since you got here. It’s a Saturday night and the bar is busy.

No Hawaiian shirt in sight. No porn mustache spotted anywhere. Your shoulders deflate. If everyone else is here, why isn’t he?

“Who you looking for, Sunshine?”

You glance sideways. “Wouldn’t like to know.”

Jake only grins. “Your bird boy ain’t here yet. Had a meeting with Maverick, I believe.”

Fucking Christ. Are you really that hopeless when it comes to him? So exposed that even Bagman can tell that your head over heels for Rooster? It’s not like it’s your fault. If you had it your way, you’d be happy with your own company. But the heart wants what the heart wants.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do. Because as much as you pine for him, Bradshaw is a dumbass.”

“What do you mean?”

“He hasn’t noticed, Sunny. You’re still that kid from down the road. You need to do something to make him see you.”

The thought has crossed your mind. You’ve known Bradley so long that he probably didn’t think of you that way. Your teeth bite into your cheek, hands fiddling with the hem of your dress. You don’t miss the way Hangman’s eyes take you in. His gaze lingering on your bare thighs. You huff out a small laugh, pulling his attention back to your face.

You and Jake have a weird relationship. He annoys you to no end but you trust him with your life. Pretty sure you’re the only one in the bar that does. Jake’s been protective of you since you met at Top Gun. A relationship without the relationship, you suppose.

“Can always stir the pot,”

You blink. “What?”

“Make him jealous, Sunny.” A snort escapes you and you slap a hand over your mouth. Jake’s smile is wide, his head falling back with a deep chuckle. “Oh, Sunny girl.”

“I have no one to make him jealous. Even if I did, that’s a stupid idea. What am I, in eighth grade?”

“Honey, look at who you’re talking to.”

Green eyes devour you when you look up at him. He is right. No one gets under Rooster’s skin more than Hangman. You bite your lip, unsure. You shouldn’t. You really, really shouldn’t. But there’s a fire in Hangman’s eyes, like he’s got a point to prove. Playing with the hem of your dress, you scrape the toe of your shoe against the floor. Fuck it, really, what do you have to lose?

“What are we going to do, exactly?”

Jake raises his hand, cupping the side of your face. His thumb lightly drags over your bottom lip before pulling it down. He pulls it away and looks down at the faintly smeared mauve color now on the pad. He lifts it up to his mouth and rubs it in.

“What are you doing?”

His lips tilt into a knowing smirk. “Teasin’.”

He’s going to get you in trouble. Lifting a hand to your own mouth, it’s smacked lightly. Sharp eyes glare at him.

“Go pick out a song. Let’s dance.”

“Dance?”

“Yeah, Sunshine, dance. Now go, and pick out a good one.”

You roll your eyes but do as you're told. Eyes follow you the whole way to the jukebox. You lean over, just a bit, the bottom of your dress rising up to tease. Was that why you wore it? Maybe. You wouldn’t tell. Flipping through the songs, you pause a few pages back, a knowing smile taking over your face. Putting the money in, you twirl back to face Jake. When the song starts playing he laughs.

“Honey, you are playing dirty.”

“You started it.”

“Well, you do have your boots on.” He says toeing your Ariats.

“Come on, Texas. Show me how to boogie.”

“You are asking for trouble.”

An eyebrow raises. “Pot, meet kettle.”

Jake doesn’t say anything else. His hand grabs for yours, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you tightly to him. You can’t help but gasp when his thigh slots between yours. Tightening your grip on his shoulder, he twirls you both out and makes room to have a dance floor. The other patrons cheer while watching. A few cat calls thrown your way. A carefree laugh makes its way from you. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt this way. It’s silly, really. To think that teasing a grown ass man made you feel this way.

“Just a heads up, Sunny girl, Bradshaw’s been watching since you went to pick out the song.” Your heart drops. What now? You go to turn your head, to try to find him, anything, really, but are stopped short. Jake slides his hand into your hair keeping you still. “Stop. You’re going to ruin it. I can see his fucking vein bulging from here.”

This is a good thing, right? This is what you wanted? His attention? Jake knows what he’s doing. He’s never led you astray before. Hopefully he won't start now. Jake lets you go, hanging you out with one hand before twirling you around. You’re facing away from him now, and you come face to face with Rooster. You inhale sharply, the smell of him overwhelming you.

“What’s going on here?” He asks, no preamble.

“We’re dancing, I know you have eyes, Bradshaw.”

Bradley looks from Hangman down at you. Head to toe his eyes blaze over you. A fire touching your skin. Licking at the top of your exposed breasts and down your thighs. You can see his lips twitch. The man knows you. His hand reaches out, pinches the fabric of the dress, rolling it between his fingers. It’s his favorite color, and by the look in his eyes you know he knows you wore it just for him.

“Hey Sunshine.”

“Hi Rooster.”

“Couldn’t wait for me, huh?”

You frown. Opening your mouth to talk, you’re promptly cut off. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Rooster shrugs. You follow after him to the table where all your friends are. Most of them try their hardest to look as if they aren’t watching this scene play out like a movie. You jump up to sit on the table, grabbing your drink and taking a sip. You hand Hangman his beer, his glare still on the man beside you. Neither of them say anything for a long time. They just stare, having a silent conversation that you don’t know how to decipher.

“Didn’t know you had a thing for Bagman, Sunshine.” Rooster finally says.

You snort, ignoring Jake’s smirk. “He wishes.”

“That why your lipstick is on his mouth?”

“Who’s mouth should it be on? Wouldn’t want it to go to waste.” Jesus Christ, he’s trying to get you into fucking trouble. Widened eyes look at Jake, his face more stoic than you’ve ever seen it.

“What does that mean?”

Hangman huffs, taking a pull from his beer. “All I’m saying Bradshaw, is that you’ve got a hell of a woman hanging off every word you say. Waiting on you to finally do something. So, you better fuck her before I do.”

Did he know you could hear him? You’re sitting like two feet away. Neither of the men back were backing down and it’s making your anxiety spike. They’ve always been at each other's throats. You’re not sure when their little feud became about you.

“Did she say that?”

“Say what?”

“Did Sunshine say that she wanted you to fuck her?”

There was no hiding the smugness in Bradley’s tone. Hook, line, and sinker. A muscle twitches in Jake’s jaw from how hard he’s clenching his teeth. Suddenly, he glances over at you and you know you must look like a deer caught in headlights. He sighs but it doesn’t sound like one of defeat. More like he’s losing his patience.

He steps towards you, thumb trailing over your bottom lip. “If it doesn't work out with him, Sunny. You know where to find me.”

Hangman turns without looking at either of you again and makes for the jukebox. Your lips quirk up when you recognize the song.

***

The sound of the door closing is your only warning. Hazel eyes meet yours in the mirror as you roll your neck. Your body relaxes when you feel him press up against your back. He’s so warm it sends chills running down your spine. The bathroom isn’t all that big. Bradley stands behind you, invading your space and swallowing it whole. There is nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. It’s easy to see that Hangman’s words have gotten under your skin. Your heart thunders in your chest at what’s going to happen next. A small prayer is sent off that Penny never finds out.

“You look good, flower.”

You smile at the nickname. “Thanks. It’s always fun when you can dress up in civvy clothes.”

He huffs. “The dress is really something,”

You grin at him through the mirror and you see Adam’s apple bob, hazel eyes fixated on your lips. You swallow, your throat thick. Tearing your gaze from his, you smooth your hands down the soft material, fingers playing with the hem of it. You took a chance with it, and you’re grateful it’s working out in your favor.

The tension is thick and heady. It clings to your skin, his callouses catch on your skin, gluing themselves to you. The music from the jukebox beats against the bathroom door, it’s the only thing accompanied by your heavy breathing. Your eyes shut when his hand pulls your hair to rest over one shoulder. A light yank of your hair has them snapping open. You meet his eyes in the mirror. One eyebrow quirks up at you. With a shaky breath you nod. Bradley leans in, lips lightly brushing against the expanse of your neck. His gaze rests on the soft spot right next to where it connects to your shoulder. You tilt your neck not only to give him more access, but permission too. Your lips tilt at the groan he lets out before his lips are on you.

Slowly his hands pull your sleeves down your arms. Goosebumps rise on your exposed skin. It makes you feel a little vulnerable. But then Bradley pushes himself even closer. He’s got his Hawaiian shirt on, jeans, and his boots. You can feel him breathing, his chest warming your back. It’s when he pushes his hips against you—you can feel him. All of him. A whimper escapes you and you see him grin in the mirror.

A hand trails down your side while the other moves to your chest. Your head falls back when a nipple is taken between his calloused fingers. You’ve only dreamt of what his hands would feel like. Your imagination didn’t do him justice. The heat coming from him is intoxicating. You’ve been so caught up in him that you haven’t realized a hand has been slipping down, down down. Fingers toiling with your dress, pushing the skirt up slowly. A hum rumbles from him when his fingers finally find your core, slipping between your folds. You’re completely soaked. You’ve been this way since he appeared right in front of you. Your breath locks in your throat when he slips a digit in.

“Christ,” he mutters, voice thick like honey. “No panties, flower?”

You whine, you can’t help it. You push your hips back into him, arching your back. His voice, the accusation in his tone. You knew what you were doing when you left your house. Maybe he’d come home with you, fucking you good and proper in your bed. Not pressed up against the sink of the Hard Deck. Bradley pulls his finger out only to push it back in with another. He does this, warming up your body, until you’re moaning, your own hand wrapped around his wrist and guiding him. You can’t stop your hips from grounding down on his hand. Desire has taken over. Bradley has left your nipple, hand now wrapped around your throat, holding you hostage to watch yourself in the mirror. He grunts when you clench around his fingers. You’re close, so close.

“Bradley,” you whine, fingers digging into his arm.

“I know, flower. You want it real bad, don’t you? Let me feel it. Let me feel you gush all over my hand sweet girl. Would you like that?”

You’re going to come off his words alone. A moan falling from your lips as the pressure tightens. It’s only moments later when the band snaps, hot liquid flooding throughout your body. Your head falls back against his chest, another moan filling the small space.

“That’s it, that’s my girl.”

You can feel him moving behind you. The distinct clinking of his belt being undone. Your whole body grows hotter in anticipation. Searing heat hits you, a hand stroking himself while the other is spreading you open. Heat pulses between your legs. There’s no doubt that he’ll split you wide open. After what you just pulled with Jake, you’d be surprised if he was forgiving at all. It’s a little fucked up, but it warms your belly all the same. Lifting your head, you gasp when his eyes meet yours. Bradley’s pupils are blown, lust and primal desire have taken over. His lips pink and full, he bends down and kisses right between your shoulder blades. Traveling up your spine, over your shoulder, he digs his teeth in where it meets your neck. You don’t miss his smirk when you moan.

He slides a hand across your ass, slapping you just hard enough to leave a red handprint behind as he thrust deep, bottoming out. A hand clamps down around your mouth, muffling the scream trying to break free. He’s big, so fucking big. He’s filling you up like never before. It hurts, a pain that you will never get enough of. Your knuckles turn white with each rough, lazy thrust. Bradley slides a hand along your spine, up the back of your neck and into your hair, your breath catches as he pulls your head up and you’re meeting his gaze in the mirror. He’s watching you come undone around him. Each stroke pulling more and more pleasure. Your cheeks are flushed, pupils blown with lust, and lips parted as each of your clipped breaths turn into whimpers.

“Flower,” he grits, hand tightening in your hair, “you feel so fucking good.”

You stare back at him, feet spreading wider to let as much of him in as you can. His teeth dig into your skin again, this time leaving bruises behind. It makes you whine. Little secrets that litter your skin. He thrusts harder, rougher until your hand is pressed against the mirror just to keep you balanced. He’s fully claiming you. Cock punching into the deepest part of you. Neither of you are too worried about the sounds escaping you now.

“Bradley, I–” you're cut off by a whimper when he reaches that spongy spot deep inside you. Over and over again, you feel it approaching, your orgasm is going to come crashing down and you’re ready to bask in it. Your face lifts up, like a sunflower searching for the sun.

“Flower? Are you going to come for me again? Are you going to let me feel you come around my cock?”

“Yes! Yes, I–Rooster, fuck,”

You come on his cock like a tidal wave, and when you collapse against the counter, your body trembles, heaving desperately for air. Bradley groans, pulling you up until you’re flush against him. His lips meet yours in a messy kiss, bucking his hips harder until he’s chasing his high right over the ledge with you.

“Good girl,” he praises, wiping the sweat off the back of your neck. “Good fuckin’ girl. That’s my good girl.”

The jukebox is still blaring when you exit the bathroom. Slowly you make your way back to where your friends are. Ignoring all of their knowing stares you reach for your drink and down it. When Bradley finally makes his appearance beside you, a possessive arm thrown over your shoulders and a quick kiss to the crown of your head. Hangman’s watching the both of you, a knowing look in his eye.

“So, Bradshaw, how was she?”

[thatlovinfeelin]

The Way Home - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

In which you meet Bradley during a wedding and your relationship evolves over the years into something more than just fwb.

The Virginian sun was warm against your bare skin as you sat at Buckroe Beach in Hampton Virginia. You were home for an old friend’s wedding taking place at Fort Monroe, just a quick drive away. She was marrying some military boy, which didn’t come as a big surprise considering where you were. The Tidewater area of Virginia was more or less filled to the brim with military, thanks to the multiple bases nearby. 

You wiggled your toes in the sand, smiling softly at the feeling. You lived too far inland now, nowhere near the beach, which normally didn’t bother you. But every time you managed to make it home, you’re always reminded about how much you missed it.

Shade suddenly fell on you, blocking the warm sun.You propped yourself up on an elbow before tipping your sunglasses down, “Hey, Gigantor, could you move? You’re blocking the sun.”

The tall man seemed to flinch before looking down at you. His cheeks were red, you couldn’t tell if it was a blush, sunburn, or if they just stayed that way. He ran a hand through his short hair before mumbling an apology and stepping out of the way. 

Everything about him screamed military, you spent enough time around them to know. You surveyed the way he was built and the way he was standing. Definitely not Air Force, and somehow you guessed he wasn’t one of the Army boys either. 

“Hey, big guy, have we met before?” You questioned sitting up fully before taking your sunglasses off. 

“Pre-wedding brunch yesterday,” He replied after looking at you for a minute, “I’m one of the groomsmen.”

“Ah,” You nodded, “So you are military then.”

He scratched the back of his neck, “Yeah, guilty I guess.”

You moved over on your towel before patting the empty space. The man glanced around the beach, like he was making sure no one was watching, before he carefully sat down next to you. Now that he was next to you, he seemed even bigger. He had to be young, like the same age as you, maybe a year or two older, but he was solid. His shoulders were broad, and muscles.. Oh god, his muscles. They were defined without being like meat-head gym-rat defined. Like he got them just from day to day work and not spending hours and hours in the gym.

“So, what branch?” 

“How did you even guess I was military?” He questioned you. 

You shrugged, a small smirk forming, “My dad is a Marine. Not active duty of course, but he still works as a contractor. So, correct me if I’m wrong here, but I’m guessing you aren't in the Air Force, and you don’t seem like a soldier. So that leaves the Navy or Marines.”

He nodded along before sticking out his hand, “Bradley Bradshaw, United States Navy.”

“Ah, a sailor then,” You shook his hand back, “Y/N Y/L/N, total civilian. Nice to meet you Bradley.”

He grinned, you almost swore your stomach tightened a little. You liked that smile. His smile was a hell of a lot better than some of the guys you tried to go out with in the last few months. But you only had the weekend, you were only here for the wedding and then you’d go right back home. 

“So, are you stationed here?” You asked him. 

“Over in Virginia Beach. They have me at Oceana.”

“Personnel or are you one of the flyboys?” You questioned.

He let out a little laugh, “Guilty, I’m an aviator.”

You leaned back to look at him fully, “Damn, that’s impressive. Alex is just a mechanic. But you actually get to fly the things?”

The two of you fell into an easy conversation. You weren’t entirely sure what it was about him that made him so easy to talk to, but you liked it none the less. He seemed so comfortable sitting on the beach with you. 

Part of you began hoping you would be able to dance with him at the wedding. You wanted to spend just a little more time with him before you left, probably never to see him again. 

“Are you hungry?” You asked some time later. 

He shrugged, “I could eat.”

“Great, c’mon, I know a great Italian place just down the road. They have the best subs and I’ve been craving one for months.”

He laughed and followed her as she nearly ran down the road. He soon found himself in a dimly lit italian restaurant, tucking into a big sub. You were right, the sandwich was amazing. The conversation seemed to flow easily. You chatted about your upbringing in Virginia. He told you all about his army of uncles, who also doubled as his father’s old flying buddies. The both of you laughed about certain things the Navy did that just didn’t make sense, and the list was long to be sure. 

Before you knew it, you had to leave to meet your friend to get ready for the rehearsal dinner. Admittedly though, you weren’t ready to leave your little one on one with the pilot across from you. Somehow you were quite drawn to him, and you liked it. 

“See you around, Bradshaw,” You gave him a little salute with a wink before hopping in your car. 

The next day you didn’t get a chance to see him until everyone was lining up for the processional. He looked good in his dress uniform, too good in fact. You found yourself licking your lips a little as you stood beside him. He was the best man, as it turned out. Which meant you were able to stand side by side with him the whole time. 

He didn’t make eye contact with you, however you caught him glance down at you and smiling a little. You looked damn good, if you had to say so yourself. As many times as you’d been a bridesmaid, you never loved a dress as much as you loved this one. Your friend did a damn good job picking them. 

The ceremony was beautiful. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t shed a tear or two. Truthfully, you were just so happy your best friend finally found her Prince Charming. Even if he was a Naval mechanic. She loved him more than anything, and that was enough for you. 

So when it came time for their first dance, you held your glass of champagne close to your chest and wondered if one day you’d be able to have the same thing. You had no boyfriend, no one to call your own, and certainly no prospects. Any of the dates you went on recently were horrible and you wished you could forget them. Hookups weren’t in the cards either since no one seemed to know how to actually give you what you needed. Bottom line, you were all alone. 

“They look good together,” You glanced over your shoulder to see Bradley standing just behind you, the same wistful look in his eyes. 

“They really do,” You agreed, “She made a beautiful bride. Alex is definitely a lucky guy.”

Bradley nodded in agreement and took a long sip from his glass of what looked like whiskey. His tie was gone, along with his suit jacket. He also unbuttoned a couple of his shirt as well. He looked even better now, it made your mouth water just enough. 

“You wanna dance?” He asked you, finishing his drink, “I promise not to step on your toes.”

“I can’t promise the same thing, I’ve been told I have two left feet,” You admitted, drinking more champagne. 

He looked down at his feet, kicking his toe, “The shoes are sturdy, I think I could handle it.”

So you danced, and danced, and then danced some more. Both of you took breaks to get another drink, and then it was right back to the dance floor. Somehow, you wandered off, finding yourselves outside of the reception venue. 

You weren’t sure how his lips ended up on yours, or how your hands tangled into his hair. Or how you managed to find yourself in his bed with his cock burried impossibly deep within you, but you weren’t going to question any of it, or complain. 

But the next morning as you were both getting dressed, he was kind enough to lend you a shirt and a pair of sweats so you didn’t have to do a total walk of shame back to your own hotel room. You felt a tug somewhere deep within your chest, like you were getting ready to walk out on something important. So instead you turned back around, dress balled up in your arms, you heels dangling from your fingers. 

“How about we make a deal?” You questioned, stepping back towards him. 

“A deal?”

“Well, you’re here, and I come home every now and again…” You explained, “And well, I really, really enjoyed last night. Seemed like you did too.”

He nodded, “Go on.”

“How about we call anytime we’re near each other, maybe grab dinner and uh, you know?”

Bradley couldn’t help but smile a little bit. He didn’t want you to walk out anymore than you did. The thought of being able to see and talk to you again made his heart seem to skip a beat. 

“Yeah, I think I’d like that,” He replied, trying to sound as calm as possible. 

“Cool, well, uh- I guess I should give you my number.”

That’s how you found yourself in the same situation a handful of times over the next couple of years. You’d call and text any time something major happened, for some reason Bradley was one of the first people you wanted to tell. He did the same. Slowly, you built a relationship with Bradley, a friendship. 

You spent several nights in bed with him when he came to see you one month when he had leave. The light kisses and soft touches were enough to make you feel incredibly safe and almost loved. 

You found yourself missing Bradley Bradshaw when you weren’t with him. You didn’t call him Rooster like everyone else in his life, except for when you were joking with him. He told you that he loved the way you used his first name. While you loved the way he said your name. You loved the warmth that spread throughout your chest. You wanted to hate it, but you couldn’t. 

“I’m being moved again,” He told you over the phone one day, “They’re sending me overseas this time.”

“For how long?” You questioned, feeling your throat close up. 

You could almost picture him shrugging, “I don’t know. As long as they need me, I guess?”

“Can I see you before you leave?” You questioned, unable to stop the small amount of hope. 

“Not this time,” He replied regretfully, “I ship out in twelve hours. You wouldn’t be able to get here in time. Not from New York, plus you have that conference.”

“Fuck the conference,” You mumbled, “You’re getting ready to leave the country.”

“I know,” He sighed, “I’m sorry. I would’ve told you if I knew sooner. I wish I could see you.”

“Just-just be safe, okay? I won’t make you promise me anything but that,” You swore. 

You were glad the way he couldn’t see you clutching your chest. Or the way your eyes were burning with tears. After all, you were just hookups, nothing more. Right? Friends with benefits. You only saw him once or twice a year, if that. You had no claim to him, no right to him. Any type of call you got you savored, even if it threatened to break your heart into a million pieces. 

“I’ll do my best, I promise.”

You hated the fact that you were so far away. You hated that you didn’t even live in Virginia. Every part of you somehow ached to be back with him. You missed him even if you didn’t have the right to. Sporadic nights in bed with him just weren’t enough anymore. You wanted more, so much more, but you didn’t know how to ask for it. Or if Bradley even wanted it. 

“I’ll try to call you when I can,” He promised you, “But I normally give away my phonetime to the guys with families, but I’ll keep one or two for you.”

You felt empty and hollow when you hung up with him. You wanted to call him back and tell him how you felt, but you knew you couldn’t, he needed to focus on what he was about to do. Not some girl that he hooked up with whenever he was in town. 

So you went about your normal life. The meetings and phone calls. Slowly unpacking boxes that were stacked almost to the ceiling of your studio apartment in Raleigh, NC. You went out to a couple of bars, met some friends. But you always lunged for your phone when it rang, no matter the time of night. You never wanted to miss a call from Bradley. 

Only, the last time you talked to him, you ended up fighting. It was stupid really, but you were stubborn and didn’t want to apologize or admit he was right. So when you were on a date and your phone rang, you simply silenced it. 

“Do you need to get that?” Your date asked you, pointing to your purse. 

“No, it’s no one important.”

Even the words seemed to hurt you. He was important, so important that you wanted to move back to Virginia to be close to him. That’s what the whole fight was about. You wanted to uproot and he kept telling you how stupid that would be. You didn’t listen, or maybe you didn’t want to listen. Bottom line it ended with you screaming at him before hanging up. 

“Who is it?”

You just shrugged and took a sip from your cocktail, “Someone I used to hook up with. He’s deployed right now, but I’m really the only friend not in the military that he has. But he can wait, I can email him later.”

It was almost halloween, the fall air outside was chilly enough for you to need a jacket as you left the restaurant more than an hour later. You pulled your phone out from your bag before playing Bradley’s voicemail, expecting to hear him begging you to just talk to him again. 

“Hey, it’s uh- it’s me. Look, I don’t have much time okay, so I need to make this quick. But I’m kind of glad you ignored my call, because I’m not sure I could say all of this with you on the other end of the line.” He took a deep breath, so loud even you could hear it through the recording, “I was stateside, but not for long. They called me back for some special mission, and I’m not sure I’m gonna make it back for this one. We’re on the boat right now, I’m gonna be getting in my plane here in a few minutes. I already told someone how to get in touch with you if something happens to me, okay? They’ll call you, because you’re all I’ve got.”

You clutched the phone, starting to hate yourself for not picking up. The tears that ran down your cheeks were even colder thanks to the fall air. Why did you have to be so mad at him for not letting you ask for a transfer to be closer to him when he came back? He was right, you couldn’t uproot everything just on the off chance that he was going to stay in Oceana. 

 “I need you to listen to me, okay? Really listen to me,” He said sternly, “I love you. I know it’s a really fucking bad time. And I know this wasn’t part of the deal, we were just supposed to fuck and have fun and not catch feelings. But I caught them. Because I really fucking love you. And I hope I get the chance to actually say it to you. I hope the next time you get a phone call I’ll be the one calling, not someone with bad news. But I couldn’t do this without you knowing. I wish I could tell you where I was, or what we were doing. Just know….I’m gonna do my best to come home to you. But…between you and me, I’m a little scared. So I’m just gonna remember what it felt like when you held me that one time after I had that shitty nightmare. Because that’s what I need.”

There was a loud sound somewhere on the boat, “I have to go….I love you, okay? I know you’re mad at me, but I hope you understand why I said what I said…but I love you.”

The line went dead. And over the next few days you listened to that voicemail again and again. You went through the motions, but truthfully you were too worried to really focus on work or your friends or the second date you somehow agreed to even though you didn’t want to go. You just wanted Bradley. But you didn’t even know if he was okay. You didn’t know how long this mission was going to take. You knew nothing.

So you tried and tried and tried. You went as far as to dig out the old college shirt you stole from Bradley the last time you were at his place. He probably didn’t even know you had it. You hoped he didn’t, because you didn’t want to give it back. 

Just like you didn’t want to be on this stupid date. But you didn’t know how to get out of it. He was so nice, almost too nice, and you didn’t want to hurt his feelings. But you felt nothing towards him. Maybe you could ghost him after this was over? Pretend it never happened and keep wishing Bradley would call you, because that would mean he was safe. 

“You know what?” You mumbled, “Fuck this. This isn’t working. You’re a great guy, but I’m sorry. I can’t be here. I need to go.”

You put down some money on the table and rushed out of the restaurant, pulling your jacket even closer to your body. Normally you wouldn’t walk alone in downtown Raleigh, but you wanted the cold air. 

Only, you stopped dead in your tracks when your phone started ringing. You fished it out, taking a deep breath before answering. His voice filled your ear, rough and a little broken as he said your name. But it was him, it was Bradley. He was safe and alive and that’s all you could think about. People pushed past you, jostling you a little as you stood in the middle of the sidewalk. You were sure your eyes were blown wide open as tears started to fill them. He was okay.

“I love you too,” You forced out before he could say anything else, “I really fucking love you too.”

“I’m in Raleigh, I flew in as soon as they let me go,” He told you, “Where are you? I need to see you. I need to hear you say it in person.”

You quickly looked around to find the street signs, because your brain seemed to forget everything else. He was okay, and he was here. He wanted to see you. And you wanted to love him until nothing else mattered. 

“I’m only a couple blocks away. I’ll be there in a minute,” He promised, “I look a little rough, had a bit of trouble during everything, but I couldn’t wait.”

“I love you,” You repeated again, because that’s all that mattered. 

“I love you. I’ll be right there.”

But all you could hear was him saying that he loved you. All you could feel was the warmth in your chest despite the cold outside, because you loved him and he loved you in return. He was here and coming for you. You could be together for a while, maybe more than just a night. 

“Look up.”

You could see him smiling in a rented pickup truck just in front of you. You hung up your phone, nearly squealing as you launched yourself into the front seat. There wasn’t time to look over the cuts on his face and neck. No time to comment on how he looked, because instead you kissed him. Hard. Like there was no time in the world for being soft and sweet.

“I love you.”

He smiled against your mouth and pulled back just a little, tucking a stray bit of hair behind your ear, “I love you, so so much. I should’ve said it sooner.”

“No,” you shook your head, kissing his hand, “This is perfect. You’re perfect.”

“No more just fucking then?”

You laughed and kissed him again before cars started honking behind you, “Oh honey, we’re long passed just fucking. But if you don’t take me back to my apartment and fuck me there, I’m going to explode.”

He laughed, pulling away from the curb, his smile big enough to make your heart squeeze a little, “Well, we can’t have that. Show me the way home, honey.”

[roosterbruiser]

I'M SORRY MILLIE

A JAKE FEAST AND BRADLEY KISS

I'm seated

your boyfriend is holding you tight against his body, his palms rough on the underside of your thighs as he holds your quivering legs open. you're a mess--writhing, panting, keening, moaning, crying.

on his knees before you, situated very comfortably between your legs, is Jake. he's lapping at your cunt like a starved man--wrapping his lips around your clit and pressing his rigid tongue into your opening, reaching up to tweak your nipples. he's watching you through his lashes, watching the way he makes you feel. and he hasn't ever been harder than he is now: going down on you--Rooster's girlfriend.

Rooster is hard, too, still fully clothed as he secures you against his body. but you can feel how uncomfortably hard he is, his erection pressing into the flesh of your ass.

"good girl," Bradley coos, taking a quivering breath when you dig your nails into his thighs. "fuck, is that good, baby?"

nodding rapidly, you moan out. pleasure is engulfing your body like boiling water--you feel like your skin is going to sizzle off.

"c'mere," Bradley pants, releasing one of your thighs to grab hold of your chin.

he smashes his lips against yours, muffles your moans against his lips. and because Jake likes to tease, he laps at you ravenously--hardly giving you room to breathe as he helps you chase that high, placing his open palm on your thigh to replace Bradley's grip.

"fuck," you cry against Bradley's lips. "Bradley, please, I--!"

"cry to him," Bradley insists, nodding to Jake.

Jake's cock throbs at the words.

"Jake," you whine, entire body taut as you screw your eyes shut and squeeze your fists close. "please--God, fuck, please make me cum."

Jake likes you--obviously--has always crushed on you a little bit. so imagine his surprise that he was invited here tonight to act out one of yours and Bradley's mutual fantasies. when this all started, he was sure the this was his one shot to get with you--but now that he sees you here, desperate and whining, bucking your hips against his mouth and chin while Bradley watches the both of you with hooded eyes and red cheeks, Jake knows he's more than proved himself worthy.

"whatcha think, Bradshaw?" Jake asks, momentarily moving away from your core to nibble on the sensitive skin of your thighs.

"don't I always give her what she wants?" Bradley asks, licking his lips.

[aestheticaltcow]

Silk (Bradley Bradshaw x Reader)

Kinktober 2024

(Divider credit to @strangergraphics)

“Come over tonight,” you commanded over the phone that afternoon. Bradley Bradshaw gave you his number a few weeks ago at The Hard Deck, but you could never mesh your schedules. “I don’t know, doll.” his gruff voice came through your phone's speaker. You pouted at his answer, “What if I told you I wasn’t wearing underwear?” you flirted, hoping it would be enough to change his mind. Bradley chuckled, “How do I know you’re not lying?” 

You bit your lip and put his call on speaker before swiping to your recent photo album. After scrolling through, you found a picture you’d taken for an occasion like this. Bradley was rattling off some ideas for when you could get together in the next couple of days as you’d hit send on the picture. 

“Did you text me?” Bradley lost his train of thought when he felt his phone vibrate in his hand, “I may have. I’ll send you my address.” you purred before hanging up the phone. Bradley chuckled as he brought his phone away from his ear. He looked down at his phone to see an unopened message from you. The preview kissy emoji piqued his curiosity. He blushed when he opened his messaging app and took a sharp breath when his screen filled with a picture of you nude under a light pink silk robe: Pouty, glossy lips, and ample cleavage with a sunset light lamp illuminating your room. 

“Rooster? You comin’ out tonight?” Phoenix asked as Bradley walked out of the locker room at the end of the work day. He shook his head, “I have plans.”

[0mg-bird]

Sister’s Mister ~ B. Bradshaw x Seresin Sister Reader

Summary: When Jake’s little sister pays a visit, Bradley gets himself into a sneaky situation where he might want to be the sister’s mister.

Warning: 18+ content ahead, language.

A/n: Very Nickelback coded, argue with the wall.

There was a feeling of uncertainty among the men in the locker room as they showered and cleaned up. Jake left early to pick up a package, that package being his dearest little sister. You.

“He’s bringing her to Payback’s birthday party.” Fanboy states and he pulls a clean shirt on.

The rest groan, asking Payback why he’s allowing it. He just shrugs. “Dude, I felt bad, alright? She’s coming to stay for a month, I don’t want to start off on a bad foot.”

Bob, who was currently pulling his civilian shoes on, shook his head. “Hangman’s enough, what are we gonna do when a second him is going to be hangin’ around?”

They moan about that, all making claims about what you must be like. Things like spoiled, arrogant, and self centered all came up.

Bradley runs his hands through his hair a few times. “Which sister is this anyway? He’s got about five of them.” He asks.

“Big families are common in the south.” Bob reminds.

Coyote is there to answer his question. “I think it’s the one born after him? They’re the closest ones out of the seven kids.”

“Seven!” They all exclaim, cursing with wide eyes.

Bradley shuts his locker. “Six siblings might be the reason Hangman’s a head case.” He claims, making the others laugh.

“Yeah, let’s just hope the sisters not the same way.” Omaha chuckles.

~~

At the airport, you look for the tall head of blonde hair that is your brother. Suitcase rolling along behind you, you pass security and immediately see him.

Jake leans against a pillar, looking rather bored until he sees you approaching. Then, he’s walking to you with a smile.

“I was hoping you’d accidentally board a flight to Mexico instead.” He teases as you hug him.

“Oh c’mon now, don’t act like you haven’t missed me.” You smile, air getting squeezed out of your lungs as his strong arms grip you.

He pulls away and takes your suitcase and backpack. “Hard to miss someone whose face is plastered on magazine issues. But it’s good to see ‘ya, sis.”

The two of you leave to get a bite to eat, then Jake drops you off at the small house you rented.

“We’re going to my buddies birthday party tomorrow night.” He tells you as he checks the place.

You roll your eyes at his effort to make sure no crazy people are hiding behind the curtains, then open up your backpack to unpack some things.

“Which buddy is this?” You question.

“Just someone on my squad.” Jake explains.

You let out a heavy sigh. “Yay, a barbecue in the park.”

Jake glares at your fake enthusiasm. “It’s not a barbecue, and I feel personally victimized by that stereotypical statement.”

“Ooh, Jakey’s using big words.” You fake gasp.

He isn’t amused.

“We’re going to a club, okay? You know all about those, huh?” He teases, making your brows furrow.

“Is that what you think I do all day? Go to clubs with rich people?” You ask, to which he shrugs and nods. You scoff. “I do have an actual job, I just happen to know how to party.”

Jake sits at the kitchen counter. “So do we. Look, it’ll be fun and you can meet the crew.” He says, making you give in.

“Fine, I’ll go.”

He hums. “You never had a choice but I appreciate your cooperation.”

You roll your eyes. “Get out of my house, Seresin.”

~~

“Where’s Hangman?” Phoenix asks as she greets everyone in the parking lot.

They all wait to go inside the club, ready to get drinks down and watch Payback get wasted, but the only problem was they were waiting for the last two to join.

“Fashionably late.” Bradley huffs, checking the time. They agreed to meet at ten, but the minutes continue to tick by.

“Hey, what’s this chick’s name?” Phoenix asks, looking down at her phone with a face of confusion.

They all rattle off names until one clicks.

“Yeah! That’s it.” Coyote agrees, looking at the faces of surprise. “Why?”

She shrugs. “I’m Facebook stalking her.”

Though they want to call her crazy, they huddle around the phone as she scrolls through the profile. Bradley rolls his eyes at the antics.

“You guys are being ridiculous.” He states.

“Holy shit…” Fanboy exclaims.

“She’s gorgeous…like insanely gorgeous.” Payback finishes the thought.

Just as Bradley turns to look, Jake’s truck rolls into a parking spot. Phoenix scrambles to put her phone away, trying to act natural as Jake gets out. He walks around the truck and opens the passenger side door.

Two long legs step out, they all watch with anticipation. The door is shut to reveal you in full.

Long, curled hair, a short black dress. You smile as you approach, it reflects in your blue eyes.

Bradley stands in a daze as you get introduced to everyone. He’s trying to think of a time when he’s seen someone more beautiful than you but he just can’t.

“This is Rooster.” Jake finally gets to him.

Bradley snaps out of it and smiles, shaking your perfectly soft hand.

You let your eyes rise from his shoes, all the way up his jeans and white tank top under his unbuttoned shirt. When they meet his eye, you take in a small breath at the way he gazes at you.

“Hi, Rooster.” You speak with a subtle southern accent, introducing yourself.

Then, you’re pulling away from him, his hand falls back at his side and he sees you turn to Payback.

“Happy birthday.” You say and hand him a small gift bag. “Jake helped me pick it out.”

He reaches into the bag, thanking you and saying that you really didn’t need to get him anything. He takes out a velvet box and opens it to reveal an expensive looking watch. The crew lowly whistles at it.

“Damn…my birthday’s next month by the way.” Coyote tells you, making you laugh.

Inside the club, the group of you gather in the reserved booth with a first round of drinks. Bradley sits directly across from you, watching you intently as you answer different questions.

“What do you do for work?” Phoenix asks, making Jake cut in.

“Stripping.” He says with a serious face, making you slap his arm.

“Stop telling people that.” You scold before looking back at Phoenix. “I model.”

That sparks a roar of interest, the whole time Bradley just watches your movements. Your fingers toy with the skinny straw in your glass as you tell a story about being in a rock music video or of doing an issue for Vogue two months ago. He sees your pouty bottom lip get caught between your pearly teeth when you laugh at something and his mind is flooded with thoughts he cannot speak out loud.

Here he was, worried you’d be a stone cold bitch when he should have been worried that you were gonna make him grip the table to ground himself. All you were doing was sitting there and he was already getting pulled in.

You’re Jake’s sister.

He has to remind himself of that as you are dragged into the swarm of clubbers by Phoenix and Halo.

“So…we’re just going to ignore the fact that she was a bunny?” Coyote mentions, making Jake cringe.

“Hey, asshole, let’s not talk about that when I’m sitting right here. Besides, it was like one issue, and she wasn’t buck naked.” He corrects, chugging his beer at the odd topic this has come to.

“You seen it?” Fanboy cringes.

“Our mom sent it to the family group chat! I was horrified.” Jake gags.

Bradley laughs at his reaction, then shifts his eyes to Coyote who finishes his drink. He sees the smirk he has and knows that there’s gonna be a comment to follow.

“She was hot, dude. I feel a little star struck, actually.” Coyote chuckles.

Jake points an angry finger at his friend. “I love you man, but say anything like that again and I’m putting you through this table. Got it?” He spits.

Bradley looks at his glass.

He better just keep his mouth shut, because if Jake hears the things he’s thinking, he’s as good as dead.

“What do you mean she was a bunny?” Bob questions, defusing the tension. “I thought she was Jake’s sister?”

The guys let out a sigh, Jake races off as it has to be explained to the pilot.

Lights and music pulse and as you dance along, Bradley’s jaw is ticking back and forth. You appear like a phantom, arms up as you laugh with Phoenix.

“I’ll be back.” He tells the guys before heading for the bathroom.

He locks the door behind him and leans on the sink, trying to get himself together. Then, he pulls out his phone and Googles your name.

Hundreds and hundreds of photos appear on the screen, all in which you look sinfully good.

How could he not know of you before? He feels like he’s lived in darkness this whole time.

Bradley splashes water on his face and tells his reflection to get it together. With a deep breath, he goes to the bar, trying to get his head straight.

Things with Jake were finally fine, there was a truce made. The last thing that Bradley needs is to start another war by getting too close to the miniature Seresin.

Leaning on the bar, waiting for the bartender to get to him, he’s suddenly joined.

“You weren’t gonna offer me a drink?” You ask with a playful smile.

He turns his head, looking down at you and he internally curses. Of course you’d find him, life was never easy for him.

“I figured you were a big girl and could get yourself something if you were thirsty.” He states, swallowing hard.

You let out a small chuckle, then wave the bartender over.

“Whatcha’ need sweetheart?” The bartender asks, leaning forward with a wink.

“Vodka with a diet redbull, if you wouldn’t mind.” You order, then turn to Rooster with an expectant look.

“Oh, uh, just whiskey on the rocks.” He mutters.

The bartender gets right on it, leaving the two of you alone once more.

You run a manicured hand through your hair and look up at him. “So, Rooster, you got a real name?” You ask.

He nods, avoiding eye contact. His fingers flex into fists and back out again because you smell like cherry and vanilla, it makes him feel woozy.

You laugh. “Yeah? What is it?”

Blowing out a breath, he tells himself he’s stronger than this and looks to you.

“Bradley.” He says, aching as you hum and try the name out for yourself.

“Bradley. I like that.” You nod, taking your drink as it is given to you.

Your lips wrap around the straw and slowly sip as he drinks his whiskey, focusing on the taste of it washing down his throat.

You watch the veins in his arms and the way his adams apple bobs. He’s the perfect picture of fine, the wheels are turning in your head as you establish that he’s what you want.

“You want to dance with me, Bradley?” You ask as he finishes the drink in silence.

He shoots his brown eyes down at you, but doesn’t answer. Your straw slurps as you reach the bottom of your glass. “It’s a simple question.” You state.

“No.” He shutters.

“No?” You clarify.

“I do but no, I won’t.” He says weakly.

“And why is that?” You question, lips pursing.

The way you squint your eyes makes him want to drop dead. He clears his throat. “You’re off limits, sweetheart. The last thing I need is your brother ripping my head off.”

You smile. “I’m a big girl, I can make my own decisions.”

He turns to fully face you now. “I don’t think that matters to Hangman.”

You let out a dramatic sigh. “Well, I’m standing here talking to you and he hasn’t come found me. I don’t know about you but to me, that seems like it’s okay for you to continue talking to me.”

You were being extremely difficult.

He sits on the chair behind him, motioning for you to do the same. Slowly, you sit, crossing one leg over the other. Your thumb nail gets caught between your teeth for a moment before he reaches out to pull it away. You lightly gasp at the action, then fold your hands together in your lap. “Wanna talk? Let’s talk.”

The two of you exchange friendly chatter, both very aware of the space shrinking between you. The sound of your voice is addicting, the longer you talk, the longer he adores it. All those silly things they guys assumed about you were entirely false. You were smart and kind, you were actually hilarious.

“You still don’t want to dance with me?” You ask after a breath, your fingers running over his thigh.

He sucks in a breath. “You just want me to be killed, don’t you?”

You look at the mass of people. “If I know one thing, it’s that my brother is probably all over some little blonde right now and way too distracted to worry about me.” You state, moving your fingers now to the back of his hand, slowly tracing shapes on his skin.

“What about the others?” He asks.

You shrug. “There’s a swarm of people, I doubt they’ll notice.”

He fights his inhibitions, then decides he’s aching to feel the silk of your dress under his hands way more than he is scared of getting caught.

Bradley grabs your hand, it’s strong as it guides you off the seat. You smirk to yourself as you follow behind him. He strategically places the two of you in the crowd, the lack of space makes you press yourself to him. Your arms hook around his neck, you feel the warmth of his palms on your lower back.

The different colored lights make the silhouette of you sharp and enticing. Though the two of you start out calm, your movements aren’t subtle. One hand in his hair, the other smooths up his chest. You’re hot, blame it on the people around you but the way he’s looking at you isn’t helping. The size of his hands on you, the way his hair gets messy, it has your knees feeling wobbly.

One movement forward, you’re pressed right against him, giving a delicious contact to the crotch of his jeans. His fingers grip your hips tightly, he leans down to press his lips to your ear. Your eyes widen as the heat of his breath washes down your neck.

“Don’t.” Is the only word he utters.

And you aren’t used to being told no.

You do it again, creating that aching friction as you rub against him. “Why not?” You whisper back.

Bradley shuts his eyes, trying to stay strong in the war he is not winning. “Don’t start something, sweetheart.”

You reach down to grab both his hands and slide them behind you. He grabs your ass instinctively.

“What if I want to?” You ask, anything but innocent.

He pulls away from your ear, shaking his head at you like it’ll change the situation. He’s saying no because it’s the smart thing, but really all he wants to do is slide his hand under your dress.

Your hand braces one side of his neck while you lean to the other. Slowly, like you aren’t sure if he’ll push you off or not, your lips press to his skin.

Bradley wants to curse, the way your tongue tastes the salt on his skin has him grinding you against him on his own accord. You make your way up to his jaw, then pull back. His eyes are entirely dark, you open your mouth to speak but he’s kissing you roughly.

You sigh contently as you start to feel like you’re buzzing on more than just alcohol. It only lasts a few seconds, like he just needed a taste. Bradley pulls away with a huff, you feel like you’re going to fall over.

“Still scared of Jake?” You ask him.

He shakes his head. “This isn’t smart.”

“But you want it.” You say, hand sliding up his chest.

He wants it, fuck he wants it. You can see it in his eyes, that’s why you take his hand and pull him out of the crowd.

In the secluded hallway of the bathrooms, in the low red lighting, you’re grinning as you’re backing him into the wall. You inhale deeply, fighting with his lips as he holds your waist. It’s feverish as you kiss, the way you gently press against his waist has Bradley biting back moans. Suddenly, he’s pushing you back, walking you until you hit the opposite wall.

“Don’t be a tease.” He warns lowly, hand gently squeezing your jaw.

Your smirk is victorious. “I won’t be a tease if you take me back to your place.”

He tightens his grip slightly before swooping down and devouring your lips. His strained jeans rub against you. “That’s what you want?” He asks, pulling away again.

You bite your bottom lip, nodding. “I’m up for anything you want to do, actually.”

His thumb pulls that lip down. He looks at it in awe as he makes his final decision.

“Text your brother, tell him that you called an Uber home.” He says.

“Jake already said he was taking a girl home and sent me the cash for a ride.” You breathe.

It’s all a sudden blur, the way Bradley’s dragging you out to the parking lot, helping you into the passenger seat of his Bronco. He’s definitely breaking traffic laws as he races to his one bedroom house.

He struggles to get the door open as you suck at his neck. Once he does get it open, he’s tugging you inside and slamming it shut.

Down the hall, you’re shredding his layers. His button shirt is thrown over the couch in the living room, his belt lands on the coffee table. As you pull his white tank off, your breath catches.

“Fuck.” Is all you can say, looking at how toned his upper body is. His biceps make you want to wrap your hands around them and squeeze.

Bradley smirks, feeling good about himself. “This is what gets you to shut that mouth of yours?” He asks.

You run your eyes over his abs. “You’re like…insanely hot.”

He grips your waist, then backs you up into the kitchen counter. “Says the one with the million dollar body.”

Your fingers dance over his bare skin. “Art appreciates art.” You shrug before devouring his kiss again.

At this point your lipstick is gone, Bradley wears some of it on his skin like you’ve branded him. His hands brace under your thighs, easily lifting you to sit on the smooth kitchen counter. You sit with a huff, spreading your legs wide enough for him to slot between them. The smooth material of your dress bunches on your hips, giving him a perfect view of the pretty pink thong you wear.

He breathes heavy in excitement, gazing down at the lace like it’s a prize. That’s before he’s tilting your head back and kissing down the column of your throat. You mewl softly at the feeling, how he dances down the tops of your breasts that threaten to spill out of the dress.

Then he’s sinking further down, you watch him slowly lower himself to become eye level with your core. You gasp softly as he grips your thighs and places warm kisses to them. It stimulates you, the way his lips feel. His hot breath fans over your aching center, he’s kissing the lace fabric like he’s praising it before he grips the top of it.

“You still sure you want this?” He checks one last time. “Because I don’t know if I can stop after I start.”

You grow impatient, flexing your hips to move your heat closer to him. “Bradley, I don’t want you to stop.”

That was enough for him to yank the panties down your legs, letting them hang on one ankle. He keeps your heels on, enjoying the way they press against his upper back as your legs drape over his shoulders.

His tongue comes to run up your center, you take in a sharp breath. He tastes your arousal, immediately becoming intoxicated off of it. Fingers pressing into the flesh of your thighs, he keeps you spread open for him as he dives in, eating you out in a way you haven’t experienced before.

Your head falls back, hand wringing in his hair, holding him close to you. A moan tumbles free from your throat. “Oh fuck, you’re good at this. Fuck! Like that.”

He can’t help but grin wildly, stimulating your erected clit before stretching two fingers inside of you. Your hips buck at the feeling, you’re humming out, panting at the feeling. He eats it so good, you don’t even think to muffle the sounds you make.

“Ah, Bradley.” You breathe, making his cock twitch in his jeans.

“You like it, pretty girl?” He vibrates against you, making you cry out.

His eyes lift to look up at you writhe. You’re perfect, open mouthed and grinding against his tongue, reacting when he curls his fingers.

“Yes.” You encourage.

The sound is wet and lewd as he sucks on your sensitive skin, your eyes widen as you feel your finish coming on.

“Rooster, I’m close.” You whine slightly, it only makes him focus more and get you closer.

“You want to cum? Do it, finish for me.” He encourages.

Your chest heaves, you tighten your grip in his hair as you clench around his fingers. You curse loudly, feeling the orgasm build and build until you finally snap. You shudder, your thighs clench around Bradley’s head as you feel the wave wash over you. He’s there through it, cleaning you up with his tongue, sucking his fingers clean.

You lick his lips, tasting yourself on him before kissing him.

“Come on, pretty girl.” He coos, helping you off the counter, chuckling at your uneasy legs as he guides you to his bedroom.

The door is clicked shut behind you and Bradley’s pulling you against him, cradling your face in his hands as he clashes his tongue with yours. His pants are pushed off by your greedy hands, then he’s watching you crawl onto his perfectly made bed. Your eyelashes fan perfectly as you stare at him, slowly pulling your dress off and dropping it to the floor.

Fuck.

You’re perfect.

Sitting pretty for him, he lets his eyes roam over your perfect skin, how great you look in his bed.

He’s in trouble.

Your leg extends out, lifting your foot up expectantly. With a pleased smile, he comes forward to the foot of the bed, unbuckling the heel, then the other. He tosses them carelessly behind him, they hit the floor with a clatter.

“Those are expensive.” You warn as he tugs at your ankles, making you gasp and fall onto your back.

“Yeah? I’m sure you have five more pairs just like them.” He states, crawling up the bed to hover over you.

Slowly, the two of you share the same air. You lay, looking up at him. “Come on, Bradley, I won’t tell if you won’t.” You tease.

He could devour you.

“You do this often? Target your brother’s friends?” He jokes back.

Your nails run down his scalp. “I can’t stand my brother’s friends. You on the other hand, you’re different.”

Tongue in your mouth, he’s moaning, sitting up to pull open his nightstand drawer. The foil of the condom is cool in his fingers, he pulls back to sit on his knees as you sit up. You pull his boxer briefs down his toned legs, breathing heavy as his full erection is freed. It aches against his stomach, the tip dripping with precum. You swipe your thumb over it, making him groan.

Completely infatuated, you pump your hand over his length as he rips open the condom package.

“I’ll cum if you keep doing that.” He grunts out, pulling your hand away so he can roll the rubber on. “Get on your stomach.”

The direct tone of his voice has you a mess between your legs, you roll over, legs spread, yelping in surprise as he tugs your hips, positioning your ass in the air.

“Is this okay?” He asks, warmly rubbing your back.

Hair falls in your eyes, he moves it away. You look back at him and nod. “It’s more than okay.”

His dark eyes gleam, then he’s positioning himself at your entrance. You feel the tip of him run down your folds, nudging your clit, making you mewl lowly and grab the pillow.

He pushes halfway in before you gasp, he slowly enters your walls to make sure you’re relaxed enough for him. The pressure his size gives you has you breathing hard already.

“I’m almost there, sweetheart.” He says lowly, letting his head fall back as he finally bottoms out.

Adjusting, you can feel how good he fills you. “Oh god.” You pant, squeezing your eyes shut as he slowly pulls back and pushes into you again.

“You sound so perfect.” Bradley says, slack jawed.

He kneads your ass, gripping it as he sets a pace. The way you lay out on front of him, arched back and taking him so good, he wants to cum inside of you in that moment.

“Mm, like that.” You guid. “You’re so fucking deep.”

Hearing those dirty words from your perfect lips, his vision threatens to go blurry.

“Yeah? Is this what you wanted the whole night, my cock buried inside you. Fuck, you’re so tight, it’s amazing.” He says through gritted teeth.

Pulling your hips, he fucks you back into him. As you meet his thrusts, broken sounds are coming from your throat.

You’re picture perfect, he’s going to be getting off to this image for weeks.

Mind completely cloudy, you mutter your words, they slur together. His fingers snake down to rub your clit and it has you choking on a sob, burying your face into the pillow at the build up inside of you.

“There you go, baby.” He breathes, picking up his pace. His hand stretches to gently tangle in your hair, his thrusts are hard, jolting you.

His name is muffled as you chant it, warning him that you’re oh-so close. You can’t even turn your head to look back at him, you just lean your head back and cry out as you clench around him.

“Holy shit- I’m almost there, hang on.” He grunts, edging himself closer and closer.

Your body shakes. “Bradley.” You whimper out, then you’re coming all over him.

The shout of him is what makes him push fully inside of you one last time and release. He bucks against you, riding his high out.

You’re collapsed onto the mattress now as he pulls out of you, mouth open as you pant, face and hair a mess.

“Holy fuck…” He runs a hand over his face, moving to lean back against his headboard.

He looks down at you, thinking you’re utterly spent. His gentle hands pull you up to him, slowly kissing you, trying to comb your hair down.

You learn how affectionate he can be. Especially after another round, where you’re watching him fuck up into you as you ride him, and genuine tiredness overcomes the two of you. You both clean up, then you try to decide what your next move is.

Hookups weren’t something you were too familiar with, you’ve only ever slept with your previous boyfriends.

Were you supposed to go back to your house? Did he expect you to leave?

The answer is decided when he shifts to his worn side of the bed.

“Come back to bed.” He says, watching you stand in the doorway, looking at your shoes.

Your eyes lift back up to him and his heart stops for a moment, you’re wearing a genuine grin.

Tangled in his sheets, not bothering to get dressed, the two of you talk until you eventually are lulled to sleep. You tried to fight it, but he’s so warm as he holds you, his voice is such a perfect tone, he’s rubbing your head and doing everything a hookup doesn’t do.

He’s well aware of this.

And when you’re snoozing peacefully, tucked against his chest, he curses and looks up at the ceiling.

He was already in too deep.

Part 2 here

[jetblack4realz]

idiot girlfriends - bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader

summary - bradley's stupid girlfriend doesn't understand that bradley has a life-long best friend, and that would be you

warnings - no

word count - 2.6k

______________________________________________________________

when you joined the navy, everyone knew it was only because of bradley bradshaw. well, and nick bradshaw. you wanted to do right by him and his memory by serving the same way he did and followed bradley into the navy, even pulling your own papers to graduate the same time and be in the same classes as him.

you two had been inseparable since you were toddlers. your mothers were childhood best friends and so when goose died carole moved her and brad right back to the same small town she grew up in in virginia, only a few doors down from you all.

so, when you two got assigned across the world from each other, it was a shock to everyone.

you met again in top gun, both competing for the top spot and landing ten marks above the rest of your classmates. you tied, which everyone thought was a good resolution, but you both teased about who really won for years.

you loved your line of work, emailing bradley on deployments and facetiming whenever the time difference allowed. you'd gone on random deployments off in fightertown and did a few in naples, but for the most part your commanding officers fought for you to stay in guam.

until the uranium mission.

you were ecstatic to be back in the states, stationed with him. and mav. but, mostly him. you'd jumped into his arms when you walked in and spotted him talking to your friends by the pool tables. everyone thought you guys were a thing, and you both were casual in blowing them off.

you trained hard, working well together in your fights against maverick. you managed to find tone on him once and only once, but hell, you were proud of it.

you flew with bradley and maverick, coyote as your backseater and accomplishing the mission. when he went down, you nearly had a heart attack. and when he got back it took everything in you not to kiss him, instead opting to wrap your arms around him in a death-grip of a hug.

because he had a girlfriend.

her name was gabbie, and she definitely gabbed. she was a brat, you and phoenix decided as soon as you were introduced to her.

"hey," bradley said with a wide smile, reaching out for you as he approached the group. you matched his smile and wrapped your arms tightly around him in a quick hug. when you pulled away, he offered phoenix a quick wave before he gestured to the girl with narrowed eyes behind him. "guys, this is gabbie. we've been together a couple months, she started emailing me this last deployment."

"right," you nodded, offering her a polite smile. "hi."

"this is phoenix, and this is minnie - or y/n," bradley said, gesturing to you with a soft smile. he looked back at his girlfriend. "she's my childhood best friend, i've known her forever."

"oh really?" she hummed with a dramatically sweet smile. "well, it's nice to meet you then."

"yeah, you too," you said with a nod. "wanna play pool with us? you could have the table next."

"does everyone in the navy play pool? even the women?" she laughed to rooster, his brows furrowing slightly. she looked back at you. "just because you're in the military doesn't mean you have to do everything the guys do. and you don't have to wear your hair that way on night's out either. you're off duty! dress cute!"

you were beyond shocked and so were the rest of your friends. your hair was up in a messy bun because yeah, you were tired after the week's dealings and didn't want to curl it. but also, top knots weren't regulation anyways.

and you thought it looked cute.

"i'm sorry?" you asked, tilting your head as you stared at her.

"well, do you like how i did my hair? i could show you if you want," she offered, playing with her front pieces, but it only made your grimace deepen.

"i'm good, thanks," you told her. you turned your attention to hangman, your go-to games partner. "jake - darts?"

as you walked away, whispering to him likely about gabbie, bradley watched with a frown.

whenever she hung out with the daggers she insisted that she would rather stay by his side than hang out with you and phoenix, making snide comments about women in the military and more about your appearance. and whenever you would try to have a private conversation with him, she was immediately by his side. you felt like you never talked to him anymore, that you couldn't talk to him anymore.

"wanna step outside for a minute?" you asked quietly, nodding your head to the back porch. "i need to talk to you about something."

"yeah, for sure," he answered quickly, his brows furrowed in concern. "what's wrong?"

you sighed, glancing around at where your friends were stood swinging back beers and shooting around the pool table in a game of 9-ball. your eyes caught on an approaching gabbie, a fresh mai tai in hand.

"can we go outside?"

"yeah, of course," he said with a nod. his hand hovered over your lower back as he ushered you to the back door, slipping out of it behind you and following you to the railing. he leaned his back against it, eyes on you.

"what's wrong?"

"my dad texted this morning," you said, breath shaky as you glanced at your phone. he looked down too, reaching for it when it was offered to him. "it's my mom."

the door opened and out came gabbie. "hey guys! what's up?"

"hey baby, i'm so sorry, but could you go back inside?" rooster asked gently, offering her an apologetic smile. "we're having a private conversation."

"too private for your girlfriend?" she asked, quirking a brow as she glanced at you. she looked you up and down and you hated how pissed off it made you.

"yeah, i'm sorry honey," he said. "it's personal."

"shouldn't i know about your personal things?" she asked, her tone still high and light enough to feign innocence, but you were getting increasingly upset as she refused to leave.

"it's not his personal life, it's mine. it's my stuff that i'd like to discuss with my best friend, in private," you said in as even a tone as you could produce.

"do you need help with anything?" she asked. "i could help too."

"no thank you," you said. "just bradley right now."

"no, i'm actually working front desk at a therapists' office right now and i've picked up on a few things. i'd be happy to work a few techniques with you if you're feeling depressed or-"

"forget it," you mumbled, shoving your phone in your pocket and pushing passed her to get inside.

bradley sighed, following you quickly. she tried to catch his arm, saying something about the sunset, but he followed you inside, mumbling apologies and trying to get you to talk to him again.

you offered him a thin smile. "later."

later never came. there wasn't enough time in the work day to talk about private matters and it seemed like gabbie now had a permanent tie to his side.

the girl infuriated you to your core.

but, for bradley's sake and trying to be a good best friend, you offered one night to get to know her outside of the hard deck. she didn't even entertain the idea when bradley approached her about it.

"i'm not a girl's girl," she mumbled to him while you exchanged an eyeroll with coyote, able to hear their whole conversation thanks to her inability to whisper. "i've never been good at that. i'm better with guys."

"not likely," phoenix muttered to you with a roll of her eyes. "hypocrite."

"well, she's not necessarily girly either, hun," rooster told her, brows furrowed. "she is military."

"which isn't my cup of tea either. but, it's alright! i'll just stay with you and the boys," she answered, hands coming up to hang off his shoulder. her eyes were trained on you as you turned back to your game with hangman, scoffing under your breath.

"alright baby," rooster relented, eyes on your back with a knit in his brow.

"i'm trying here," you muttered to the man next to you as you leaned down to take your next shot. jake shrugged.

"can't help who she likes as friends."

"wish i could help who she likes romantically."

"what do you mean by that, min?" a smirk was already growing on his lips and you groaned.

"oh, don't start. everyone knows it," you said, moving around the table for the best angle.

"yeah, but you've never admitted it," he teased, following you. "do you like rooster?"

"he's right there, dickhead, go and say it louder," you said with a quick glare, shooting your last ball into the pocket.

"what'd you say, minnie?" rooster asked, eyes on you and jake both intently.

"nothing, just trash-talking hangman here," you answered, standing and clapping a hand on said man's shoulder. you smiled at jake. "he's about to get his ass beat."

you lined the cue ball up with the 8 ball, counting to three in your mind before you shot, the two balls clicking together and the 8 ball landing in the corner like you predicted.

"ha!" you exclaimed, turning to him. "loser!"

"you didn't call it," he hummed, a wicked grin on his lips. "scratch! i won!"

"what? no!" you cried.

"oh yes, princess," he laughed.

"you could tell what i was going for," you argued.

"oh could i?" he teased with a wiggle of his brows.

you scoffed, but couldn't help the laugh that escaped your mouth as he did a stupid 80s-like victory dance, phoenix leaning into you to mumble teases about the man.

from behind you, bradley's face had settled into a scowl.

"minnie," he called. "you and me."

your eyebrows shot up and a smirk lifted one side of your mouth. "oh really, roo? you wanna take me on?"

gabbie looked taken aback that he'd offered to play you.

"she just played. how 'bout you play coyote here?" she asked, looking at javi with a smile.

"nah, i'll give y/n another chance to win," he answered, his eyes not leaving you as you faced him with a smile.

"game on, chicken," you told him with a grin, moving to rack the balls.

he helped you, your hands brushing as you placed them into the triangular rack. your eyes found each other, a subtle smile on your lips as you placed the 8 ball in the center.

"all you mousey," he told you.

"you know, maybe i will take you up on your offer," gabbie chimed in, catching your attention. "let's do something."

"alright," you said slowly, nodding at her. "we'll figure it out later."

"no, let's go get a drink and talk," she replied.

"i'm playing bradley right now. later," you insisted. she seemed to harden at your use of his proper name and she approached where you stood next to rooster. she grabbed your forearm gently, tugging you towards the bar.

"phoenix will take your place. come on!" she said with fake enthusiasm. everyone could tell it was just that and you were left stumbling after her with knitted brows.

"no gabbie, we're playing," rooster told her, taking a hold of your other arm and tugging you back to him. she turned to him with a sharp look in her eye and you hated where you were standing at that moment.

"she wanted girl time, bradley, so i'm giving her girl time," she told him. she turned her attention to you, a sweet sweet smile shot in your direction. "maybe i can give you makeup advice?"

"okay, no," you laughed dryly, ripping you arm from her grasp easily. "i'm good, thank you. i don't need your makeup advice."

"oh, honey, you do," she cooed condescendingly. "i think the boys would agree."

"you're being rude and i'd like you to leave," you said calmly. you looked at rooster. "can you take her home, please?"

he looked conflicted, glancing at you and then gabbie.

"i don't need to go home," she told you.

"oh, so you're gonna play nice?" you asked, raising your brows.

"i will when you do," she answered, glaring openly at you now. you breathed an incredulous laugh, glancing back at phoenix with wide eyes before returning your attention to her.

"what the hell does that mean? i've been trying to be friends with you, lady!"

"oh yeah, just so you can cozy up next to bradley a second later," she said, her glare deepening as she gestured to his hand on your wrist.

"the hell are you saying?" you asked. "i've known him my whole life, forgive me for trying to maintain a friendship."

"no," she shot back. "because you're not just maintaining it."

"yeah, it's flourishing under your watch," you spat sarcastically. you shook your head, glancing back at bradley for a moment before pulling your arm from him and stepping back. you held your hands up in faux defense, scoffing as you stepped towards the door. "sorry brad, i'm not allowed to talk to you anymore."

"no, y/n, stop," he said quickly, shaking his head and sighing. "gabbie, stop saying stuff like that."

"it's true! she's making moves on you bradley," gabbie insisted.

the daggers were not amused, watching as you rolled your eyes and waiting for what bradley would do in respone.

"she's not," he said.

"but if i was?"

that was a question that caught him off guard. he looked at you, his mouth falling open and brows furrowing as he struggled for a response.

"i - what?"

you sighed, crossing your arms over your chest before looking at him with complete seriousness and honesty. "look, she's not the girl for you bradley. i think you've figured that out by now. the rest of us sure as hell have."

"what are you saying?"

"i'm here," you said with a shrug, taking another step back towards the door. "i've always been here. do with that what you will."

gabbie was awestruck, watching you with wide eyes as you strutted out of the bar.

"bradley-"

"gabbie, i can't do this anymore," he said, eyes flashing to her as soon as you left his view. "she's right. you're not the girl for me and i'm not the guy for you. you'll find him, i know you will."

"what? what the hell are you-"

"and now i've gotta go get mine," he said, offering her a small, apologetic smile before running through the bar, dodging customers and slipping out the door after you.

"about time," coyote laughed, leaning back to sip on his beer.

"oh, screw all of you," gabbie spat. "i thought we were getting along, but i guess not."

"cheers to that!" jake said, clinking his bottle with phoenix's as she glared, leaving the room quickly.

bradley chased after you, desperation in his voice as he called, "y/n! y/n!"

you turned, a subtle smile on your lips as you peered at him. "yeah?"

"i want you," he said, grabbing your hands with a wide smile. "i want you forever. i want you to always be here and i want to always be here for you and i'm sorry that i wasn't, but i promise i will be."

"just kiss me, bradshaw," you told him, a grin overtaking his lips as he pulled you into him, his hands cupping your jaw as he pressed his lips to yours.

the kiss wasn't without passion, the both of you having been waiting for this moment for who knows how many years. your arms were wound tightly around his neck as you pulled away for air. you both had stupid grins on your faces, just watching each other.

"thanks," you breathed out dopily.

"anytime," he answered. he leaned closer to you, smirking slightly. "all the time."

he kissed you again, you smiling as you kissed him back.

"fuck yeah!"

you pulled back quickly to see phoenix and the daggers on the front porch, watching with knowing grins.

"we've been waiting for this!" coyote whooped.

you rolled your eyes and laughed at your friends before looking bradley back in his beautiful browns. "i have been too."

[inkdrinkerworld]

12 with Bradshaw please

Maybe a little ooc but I imagine bradley a little more cocky and confident to play the role of the mask he’s wearing! Allusions to smut so MDNI

You’d been at the bar when the man in the ghost face mask approached you.

You were wearing a pretty black corset, a mini skirt and black shiny stockings with a bold red lip.

“Are you Morticia?” The man asked, his hands tapping in the bar as he signaled to Penny he wanted a drink.

“I am, you’re the first one to get it so far.”

The man in the ghost face masked hummed, turning his head to look at the other patrons.

“I think I might be the only one sober enough to notice, darling.”

You smile, swirling your straw in your drink before taking a sip. “What about you? Did you lose a bet for this costume?”

You’d spotted him with who you assumed were his friends by the pool table, none of them were Halloween movie killers- just him.

You weren’t complaining either, the only movie compliant part of his outfit was the mask, everything else appeared to have been thrown together.

He was in a black muscle tee, and black jeans, his arms distracting you most of all.

He shrugs, “Quite possibly.”

You narrow your eyes a little, “I think it’s very possible, unless you know the discourse around girls and this mask.”

The ghostface before you chuckles. “What is the discourse, darling?”

God you could melt on the spot. His voice is so raspy and low and it’s addling your brain easily.

“Why don’t you take off that mask? I’d like to see your face before I tell you all about it.”

His hand reaches up and tugs the mask off, pretty eyes staring directly at you.

“Tell me all about it, darling?” He takes a sip of his beer, very aware of your eyes tracking his movement.

“They,” you swallow, mouth dry as he looks at you through his lashes. “They go home with him because nine times out of ten, he’s hot.”

Even as he blushes you can tell that he’s a cocky son of a bitch when he smirks at you.

The man crowds your space with one shirt step, eyes boring into yours; “Are you going home with me then?”

You nod, “If you play your cards right.”

He plays his cards very right, two months later you’re with Bradley and the ghostface mask makes appearances every now and again.

[katsu28]

i don't know if you've done this, but a 🍭 “You told me not to worry about them.” with bradley bradshaw maybe??

thank you sm for requesting, my dear ari!! much love for u <3

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x aviator!reader, callsign Casper (like the ghost hehe), some swearing, 1.3k

They were just some harmless pranks; you could handle them. That was what you told Rooster over and over when he found out you were getting hazed by some other pilots in your squadron. It wasn't uncommon for stuff like this to happen to newer pilots, but damnit if he didn't hate seeing it happen to you. 

It was what he had to keep reminding himself when you called him at three in the morning one night and asked him to come pick you up from one of the shadiest districts in San Diego. His mind was reeling the whole car ride to you, because you’d sounded so quiet on the phone. Whether it was because you were embarrassed, upset, or even scared, he didn’t know. 

“Are you okay?” was his first question as soon as he’d put his car into park and rushed over to you, eyes squinting in the dingy, flickering streetlight to scan your whole body for any sign of injury. You just nodded, and when he seemed certain that there was nothing wrong with you, he frowned. “What the hell is going on? Why are you even out here this time of night?” 

“It was nothing, just another stupid prank,” You muttered, drawing your jacket tighter around yourself. Rooster’s eyebrows furrowed. “What?” 

“Pranks are funny. This? Ditching you alone here of all places, that’s not a prank. That’s risking your life.” 

“You say it like I don’t do that for a living everyday.” You were joking, even though right now definitely wasn’t the time to be cracking one. 

Rooster’s jaw clenched. “This isn’t a fucking joke, Casper, okay? I know you wanna fit in and prove that you belong here, which you do, I know you do, but this hazing shit with your squad isn’t okay!” 

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.” You set off to the Bronco after that, effectively cutting the conversation short. Rooster was worried, you understood that, but every pilot went through this kind of thing. Making it through the pranks meant that you’d finally be accepted as a real part of your squadron, so you were fine with it. But Rooster had a problem with it, and he wasn’t afraid to tell you. Case in point. 

Rooster slid into the driver’s seat a few seconds later, turning to you and opening his mouth like he was going to say something, but decided against it, instead opting to just start driving. 

The atmosphere in the car was tense, to say the least. Neither of you wanted to break the charged silence, too headstrong to give in. 

Rooster was the first one to break a good while into the drive, voice defeated. “You told me not to worry about them, Y/N.” 

Y/N. Not your callsign. That was how you knew he meant business. 

“And you still don’t have to, Bradley. I have it under control.” And that was your stubbornness talking. It was one of the qualities you possessed that gave you the grit and determination you needed to make it this far in the game, and you’d be damned if you let a bunch of chauvinistic asses take it away from you. 

“If you had it under control, it wouldn’t’ve got this far. I can talk to those assholes, let ‘em know not to mess with you.” 

“Oh, and then what? I get let off the hook because my big scary Lieutenant boyfriend said so?” You scoffed, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. “They’re never gonna take me seriously after that. So thank you for picking me up, but just leave it alone, okay?” 

“I’m just trying to help you!” 

“Help me?” You let out a humorless chuckle. “You don’t get it, do you? However hard it was for you to earn the respect of other pilots, it’s fifty times harder for me. Nobody takes me seriously because of who I am. What I look like. I need to prove that I’m just as tough as they are, and if they think I’m pulling favors from you, I’m right back where I started.” 

Rooster hesitated again, taking a second to digest your words. He’d never actually thought of it that way. He was so focused on what he could do to get them to stop that he never considered how that would bode for you. Rooster knew the type of guys your squad members were. Hell, he’d even been that type of guy at one point in his life. 

But you were right. If he stepped in, that would only make things even harder than they already were for you. And if they suspected you’d gone running to him to get him to pull his rank, maybe even escalate it further. 

“I’m sorry,” Rooster said softly, settling his free hand over your knee. You continued to stare out the window, jaw clenched tight so he wouldn’t see you falter.

He tried again, a different approach this time. “I get it. Finding a good groove with a new team is hard. You just wanna take it, muscle through whatever they throw at you. Show them that you can play with the big boys. But sweetheart, this is getting out of hand. Stupid pranks are fine; I’ve pulled a shit ton back in my day. But when it comes to compromising your safety, that doesn’t fly with me.” 

Your breath trembled as you exhaled, and Rooster noticed. He flicked on his blinker, maneuvering off to the side of the street and killing the engine in one smooth motion before swiveling to face you in his seat, one big hand coming up to cup your cheek. 

“I was really scared, Bradley,” You admitted, your words nearly a whisper. You leaned into his touch instinctively, fingers curling around his wrist. “I—I didn’t know if I should call you, or just find my way back on my own. I didn’t—I didn’t know what to do.” 

“Oh, my sweet girl,” He cooed, stripping off his seatbelt. You thought he would try to hug you from here, but instead he held up a finger, hopped out of the car and rounded the hood, pulling your door open to gather you in a much better hug than you were expecting. His arms folded around you just right, lips pressing into the top of your head, heart a comforting thud against your ear. “Thank you for calling me. Always call me, no matter what time it is. If I can be there, I’ll be there. And if I can’t, I’ll find a way.” 

“Thank you,” You mumbled, voice muffled against the softness of his hoodie. 

“Of course.” Rooster sighed, giving you one last good squeeze before holding you at arms length for what he was going to say next. “You’re a good pilot, Casper. I’ve seen you fly, you’re one of the best I’ve ever seen.” 

“Yeah well, you’re biased,” You said lightly, nudging his ribs with your elbow gently. 

“I’m not! Professionally speaking, as someone who’s seen dozens of pilots come in with the potential to become something great and fizzle out, I can honestly, truly say that you’re not one of them. You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone, because you’re just that good.” 

“Are you trying to woo me and get me into your bed right now?”

Rooster’s cheeks flushed pink. “No! Well yes, eventually, but—stop distracting me! I mean it, okay? You’re going places. So tell those dickbags to knock it off, because chances are, if you’re as scary as I know you can be,” He earned another jab to the gut for that comment, “they’ll take the hint. Show them you’re not playing their stupid games anymore.” 

“I will.” Your fingers loosened their grip around his torso, lips quirking into a soft smile. 

“Good. I’m glad. And if they keep being jerks, I’ll gladly be of service.” He shrugged. “As your boyfriend, not Lieutenant Bradshaw. No pulling rank of any kind, I promise.” When you laughed, he straightened proudly, always pleased to be the reason you were happy. Some would even say it was his greatest mission in life. “Stay at my place tonight?” 

“Okay.” 

“See, now I’m trying to get you into my bed. I think it’s working too. Is it?” 

“Definitely.” 

[valhallaas]

On My Own

listen here

pairing: bradley rooster bradshaw x female!reader

word count: 1.8k

summary: it’s a nightmare. it’s a memory. if only you could let it go. 

warnings: angst, major character death, stages of grief, mentions of pregnancy

a/n: um. i haven’t written anything in like, four months and i return with this. cool cool cool. angst isn’t my forte, so i did have this beta read. yeah. read and enjoy. would love the feedback!

“Tell me, when’s the last time someone told you they loved you?”

The question isn’t malicious. You mean no harm by it—only genuine curiosity. You’ve known Bradley Bradshaw, Rooster, since your earliest top gun days. You know everything there is to know about each other. You’re best friends, and you know that you’re both on the edge of teetering towards more.

He stares at you like a kicked puppy. Eyes wide, mouth slightly parted in surprise. Your heart hurts a little, because you know that he probably has never thought about it. Silently, you push off the kitchen counter, setting down your glass of wine. Your head tilts, taking slow steps towards him. Bradley flinches when your hand rests on his chest, fingers splayed out over his beating heart.

“Bradley,” you whisper.

“I don’t–” he can’t look at you, hands balled into fists.

“An ex-girlfriend maybe?” you say, slightly hopeful. A slight nagging feeling crawls up your spine. God, it’s been years. Please don’t let it be. “I know Phoenix gets emotional when she’s drunk, did she say it to you then?”

He shakes his head, stepping closer into you. Jesus, what did you do? You’ve never seen him like this before. It’s making you nervous. You never meant to put him on edge.

“Bradley,”

“It was my mom.” He finally whispers after a beat.

Your hand clings to his shirt, your heart breaking. It wasn’t a malicious question. You had no ill intent when you asked. Clearly you didn’t think it through, not really. The far away glaze to his eyes made you want to shove the words right back down your throat. How do you fix this? How could you fix this?

“The last person I told I love you to was you.”

You almost didn’t hear it. A frown taking up your face as your eyes meet his own. Bradley’s staring down at you, adoration slowly creeping over his face. His eyes have gone soft, something you’ve noticed they only do when he’s looking at you. Confusion sweeps over you. When the hell has he ever told you he loved you? Without a doubt you know that you’d say it back. Because you do. You love Bradley. You love him so much that it hurts sometimes.

The corner of his lips pick up, as if hearing your thoughts. “You’re always asleep, a little too drunk, or walking away.”

Why, why would he do that? Stepping closer, hands gripping his shirt, refusing to let him move an inch away from you. Your head tilts up, nose bumping against his. Is this what pushes you over the edge? A hidden confession brought to light.

“Were you afraid I wouldn’t say it back?”

“No,” he whispers, pulling you into him, body flush against his. “Wasn’t sure if I was ready–”

“–to hear someone else say it.” Bradley nods, resting his forehead against your own. “Are you ready now?”

He smiles, lips ghosting over yours. “I love you, sweet girl.”

You can’t help but smile back. You push up on your toes, lips meshing with his. A perfect fit. You melt against him. Hands trailing up his arms, over his shoulders before gipping the back of his neck. A quick taste before you’re pulling back, teeth digging into your bottom lip. Bradley’s eyes are blown wide, gaze fixed on your lips.

“I love you too, Bradley.”

His name is on the tip of your tongue. It echoes through you, a phantom pain that will always bring tears to your eyes. You’re not sure how long it’ll take before you can sleep in the middle of the bed, to touch his side. Your eyes squeeze shut, not wanting to see the perfectly made up side.

Not after the dream you had. Right, yeah. Dream. A nightmare. A memory.

It’s the first time you’ve slept in your bed, in your room. You’re facing his side, everything exactly how he left it. Half full bottle of water sitting next to a picture of his parents on the nightstand. A white hamper next to his closet, the left door barely open. You roll on to your back, eyes opening to stare up at the ceiling. I love you, sweet girl. The words roll over you, making your skin raise with gooseflesh, the hair on the back of your neck stands on end.

Fuck. Why did you think you could do this? No one else did. As if on cue, the doorbell rings, making you jump. You know you look like shit, not that it should come as a surprise to anybody. Slowly, you slink from the bed, keeping your eyes cast to the floor. You count each step, anything that’ll distract you.

It’s twenty-nine steps from your bed to the front door. You aren’t surprised when Jake and Natasha are standing there. Jake’s lips are pulled into a hard line, and Nat’s not even trying to hide her worry. Leaning back, closing the door, you check the clock hanging on the wall. 10:33 am. Swallowing, you face them, a raised brow.

“What’s–what uh, why are you here?”

“Your phone’s off.” Jake bites out, pushing past you and into the house.

You roll your eyes. “I’m not on suicide watch. I’ve been cleared.”

“Yeah, well, those fucking shrinks don’t know you like I do.”

Rubbing at your eyes, your temples, you head to the kitchen. Jake and Nat sit on either side of you. While he stares at you, annoyance gracing his features, Natasha can’t hide her worry. She picks at her cuticles, eyes flickering around the small space.

“Are you okay?” you ask her, hand pausing her fingers.

“It’s quiet here. Almost too quiet.”

You swallow thickly. You had noticed that too. No sports games playing on the television. The piano sits untouched—you refuse to look at it. It breaks your heart, because it’s only collecting dust now. You haven’t known this kind of quiet since before. You never thought there’d be an after. It’ll grow on you, you think. There is no other choice. Your hand pulls down your shirt, covering your stomach. Jake doesn’t miss the movement, eyes narrowing.

It’s been three months. You’ve been grounded for multiple reasons, despite being cleared. Penny had taken you in, nursed you back to health. It seems like everyone knows that you couldn’t be on your own. But you aren’t, not really. You’re finally comfortable with moving back into your shared space. It’s where you want to raise your child. A home that was filled with love and happiness. A home that was all you and Bradley.

“Sweetheart,” your eyes snap to Jake’s, that familiar green glistening with concern. “I made a promise. You will take care of yourself, I will force you if I have to.”

“I know.”

Your world was crumbling before your very eyes. Alarms blaring, lights flashing, smoke billowing all around. Rooster’s voice rang out in your head, giving you orders. When did you ever take orders from him—even if it was to save your life?  

“—now! This is not a dog fight you can win!”

You can hear his voice, but the words aren’t registering. Straight through one ear and out the other. Not like it matters. In only a few seconds, a blink of an eye, a gasp of your breath, Rooster is shot down.

Nothing else matters. Not even the enemy turning and firing at you.

You can’t hear anything. Not the roar of the enemy aircraft hovering over you. Not your heart beating desperately, trying to get out of the cage that is your ribs – desperate to find Bradley. Time doesn’t seem to be moving. Slowly your body comes screaming back to you. It hurts, mainly your left shoulder, but that isn’t going to fucking stop you. With every ounce of strength you have you get to your feet. Clenching your teeth to stop your scream, your helmet is pulled over your head. There’s no sign of blood, not that you believe, not that you can tell any different.

Rooster. Where the fuck is Rooster? Tilting your head up, eyes scanning the sky, you look for smoke. There it is. North. You start running. It hurts. God, it fucking hurts and you’ll pay for it later. If it saves him now though, it’s all worth it. He’s worth it.

You look like a goddamn vision running to him. His own living, breathing angel. Bradley’s gaze shifts. This isn’t right. No. No. He didn’t ever want to tell you. Scared that his love was a curse, a prophecy. It’s like he knew – he knew if he said it he’d end up following in his father’s footsteps. Bradley couldn’t do that to you.

“Bradley, Brad – look at me, baby. I got you.”

You’re ripping off everything, trying to stop the bleeding. He huffs out a garbled laugh, large hands holding on to your own. Teardrops hit your skin and you’re not sure whose they are.

“Bradley,”

There’s a faraway look in his eyes. He smiles. You know, you know. It’s the first time he’s seeing his parents in years, and you are not enough to keep him here.

Time moves quickly. Blood sticks to your skin. He stopped breathing a while ago. You aren’t leaving, you aren’t letting go. Smart pilot, he had his beacon. Is it the cold that numbs you? The silence? Or is it the secret you kept rolling like seasick butterflies in your stomach? Tearfilled eyes lift to meet familiar sea glass ones when his warm hands gently pry yours from Bradley’s. Hangman can’t hide his wince, seeing Rooster’s dog tags embedded into your palms from squeezing them so tight. Past him you see a chopper. They’ve come for you. They’ve come for the both of you.

“Salem,”

“I tried. I–I, I tried. I tried so hard, but it wasn't enough.”

The piano taunts you. Whispers your name, echoes in his voice. God, you miss his voice. Jake’s passed out on the couch, Natasha’s in the spare room. Nat stayed because Jake did. Jake stayed, well, because he cares, you guess. You don’t care about either of them at the moment. Your fingers itching to touch the keys. Natasha had mentioned earlier how quiet the house was. You hadn’t said anything, not wanting to lie.

Sinking onto the bench, your fingers hover over the keys. It’s two in the morning and you should be in bed. You are pregnant after all. But the little thing seems to find comfort here, same as you. They are their father’s child.

Softly, slowly, you plunk at the keys. Your voice is gentle, barely above a whisper. It’s etched in pain, an unrequited goodbye.

Don’t you know I’m no good for you? I’ve learned to lose, you can’t afford to Tore my shirt to stop you bleeding But nothing ever stops you leaving

The sound of floorboards creaking makes you pause. Tears spill down your cheeks at the sight of your friends watching you. They both rush you when you begin to sob. Chest aching, throat closing. You’ll be okay eventually. Because you know better than to believe that Bradley would’ve ever left you on your own.

[flowery-mess]

WINGS AND EMBERS

Bradley Bradshaw x firefighter f!reader

Summary: There is a fire at the Top Gun base, no one knows how that happened, but everyone hopes Bob and Phoenix can make it through. Bradley’s mind is going crazy, thinking about how he can’t lose another person, his best friend and partner in crime. Fire fighters are called to the scene, arriving just in time to contain the fire from spreading more. And you are one of them. You recently got stationed at Station 16 in San Diego. You didn’t mind the moving, you were actually happy for a new start. You work for the fire department, crisis management to be exact. That means 90% of your work is papers, updating the crisis plans, educating others, educating the public, doing fire safety controls. The rest looks like this, being part of the calls, if you are needed. Part of your job is to be familiar with big buildings, factories or any other important objects, and to know their possible risks. The naval base in San Diego is one of the places you should know, that’s why you’re on this call, in case there is evacuation needed or if it becomes risk for the citizens that live nearby. That’s why you make your way to the group of aviators who are watching the disaster, instead diving into the fire. That’s when Bradley’s eyes lay on you. And that’s when it all begins.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

My new story coming out soon. The plan is one shot, but we will see where the story will take us.

If you want to be tagged when I publish it, let me know.

[thedroneranger]

You took tattoos and made them FLUFFY. I FUCKING LOVE YOU. This was so, so sweet. Also, I'm gonna remember this line for the rest of my life: They're the human equivalent to an eraser smudge. SO. GOOD.

PS - I'll just be bopping around your masterlist until I read, probably everything, so just be prepared. 🖤

Can I request a Bradley thing where he goes in to get a tattoo and reader does his tattoo and he’s just super love stricken. Next thing he knows he’s going to get tattooed just to see reader till he finally asks her to go on a date??? 🫶🏻🫶🏻

eeeeek fun fact about me: I have eighteen tattoos! so it would by me greatest HONOR to write this little fic!!

𝐓𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐝

𝐚 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞

Honest to God, if Bradley knew that you were going to be the girl doing his tattoo today, he would've pretended to be sick to get out of the appointment. He would've just gone to a different tattoo place entirely. But it's too late now--he's here, sitting in your little cubicle with its potted plants and hand-drawn posters and knick-knacks and bluetooth speaker, and you're quietly humming as you look over his paperwork.

It isn't that he thinks you're incapable of doing his tattoo--God, no. You were the name that kept popping up when he asked around for artist recommendations, the highest rated artist in his area (and the surrounding three--but who's counting?). And he knows you'll do a good job because he's seen your work on other people and even if he hadn't, the posters on your wall are evidence alone. Bradley can draw a crude stick figure on a good day--so he is endlessly impressed with your skill.

It's just that you are the prettiest thing he's ever seen in his entire life. No, not just pretty--something above that. Beautiful, gorgeous. Fuck, you're ethereal even and Bradley hates people that say ethereal.

Everyone he talked to failed to mention that you are simply the prettiest person in every room you walk into and, Bradley knows just by looking at you, that you're probably the coolest person at every party you've ever been to.

You have big eyes that you wear bright colors on, which look almost too good against your skin and those pretty irises. Just looking at you legit makes Bradley want to bite his knuckle. You have a cool haircut, one that is polar opposite of all the Navy-issued chop-jobs he's so used to seeing, and your voice is raspy and lovely. You're wearing authentic vintage Levi's and a smooth bodysuit, one that hugs your body, one that shows the hills of your breasts so well.

Simply put--you're fucking perfect.

Perhaps the worst of it all is that you're so fucking nice. From the moment he walked through the door, you were all smiles, leading him back to your little area and talking him through everything without making him feel like an idiot. You were offering him drinks and asking what his ideas were and then complimenting his ideas. You were making all the little tweaks he wanted and not complaining about it even a little bit.

And now, as he sits on your table with his foot tapping incessantly on the tile, he's just watching your throat vibrate as you hum. It takes him a moment to recognize it, but when he does, it makes him want to rake his hands through his hair.

"Leather and Lace?" He asks you, perching a brow.

And the way you laugh, looking up at him with a bright grin as the sun kisses your face, should be illegal. You're about to put a needle to his skin and watch him cower in pain--he wishes you would take that into account and look less Goddess-like, for the sake of his ego.

"Stevie is my idol," you sigh, pointing casually to the portrait of her on your arm. He inspects it with a smile tugging at his lips, hoping his ears aren't as red as they feel. "You're a big music guy, then?"

He nods, slightly embarrassed. Isn't everyone a big music person? Who the fuck doesn't like music?

You like this guy--this guy that told you to call him Rooster for some reason. This guy who's wearing the ugliest vintage Hawaiian shirt you've ever seen. This guy who has a lewd pornstache, the one who somehow pulls off the lewd pornstache. God, this guy is still wearing his sunglasses inside, but he's just so goddamn cute. He has one of those infectious laughs and a headful of nice, sandy hair. He looks like California has kissed him--pretty. He just looks pretty.

But you can tell that he's nervous. Most people are before getting under the needle--you totally get it. Sometimes you still get nervous about it, too, despite having your arms almost all the way filled in. but you have a hard time imagining this hunk of a Navy man is nervous about a tattoo on his peck. Even just based on the scars littering his face and throat, you're certain he's been through worse.

"So," you sigh, moving your chair closer to him so he can see the paper in your hands that has the mock-up of his tattoo. He leans in and you get a whiff of sea salt and vetiver--God, he smells good. "I scaled down the legs just a bit. I was thinking some light shading through here and filling in here and here--is that okay with you?"

Rooster nods, swallowing hard, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"It looks good," he tells you. "Like really, really good."

You beam at him.

"Well, thank you," you say softly. "I'm a big art girl."

It makes something come loose in his chest--some breath he's had bated releases through his smiling lips. You're teasing him, you're joking with him. It feels good--natural.

"So, with this detail, I'm gonna put us at three hours. Does that sound good?"

Rooster nods immediately--his afternoon is entirely clear. But the prospect of getting to be with you for three hours is exciting--so exciting that it makes his throat tight. Needle be damned, he's going to get to listen to that laugh for three hours. Three!

"Sounds great," he tells you.

You grin, clapping your hands together.

"Well, I bet we're gonna be good friends by the end of this, huh?"

He grins. He already aches to kiss you and he doesn't even know you. Rooster does consider himself a hopeless romantic--but this is a whole new line he's crossing.

You point to his shirt, a slight blush covering your cheeks.

"You can go ahead and take that off now. I'm gonna prep the area."

As he obliges, he watches as you grab a little plastic razor and some paper towels. You're putting gloves on and still humming along to music that isn't playing, mentally cataloguing everything you're gonna need presently.

"Prepping the area includes--?"

You smile, standing up. He still hasn't taken his tank-top off yet, but you can tell already that this guy is fucking ripped. Not even in the usual California way--no, this guy is like movie-star ripped. He looks like he's been plucked out of a blockbuster.

"Shaving and disinfecting," you tell him, gesturing to the razor.

He nods, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip as he finally shrugs his tank and lets it fall into the chair he was sitting in.

"At least let me buy you dinner first," he teases.

Then you laugh--it's the first time he's really heard you laugh. He likes the sound, likes that you laugh with your mouth closed and your eyes wide.

"We'll see how the tattoo goes," you wink.

You're very careful as you shave and disinfect him, humming Stevie Nicks and Don Henley still. And you can feel his eyes lingering on your face as you work, but it doesn't bother you. He has pretty eyes--you're glad he's looking at you.

"Wanna be the DJ?" You ask with a grin, nodding towards the speaker.

Rooster feels like his heart is about to fall out of his ass. If he'd have known that he was going to be DJing this three-hour tattoos session with you--the prettiest girl he has ever seen--he would've made a playlist. Like, a proper playlist. One that is carefully curated and accounts for all possible avenues of this appointment. His dad used to make his mom mixed tapes--he still listens to them. Even though he thinks that making playlists is only a fraction as romantic, he understands that it's the modern mixed tape.

"Sure," he says softly, connecting his phone. "Are you exclusively a Fleetwood Mac girl?"

You shake your head, making sure all your ink is set out on their stabilizing beds of petroleum jelly and your gloves are intact. You pat the bed and he takes the hint, laying down while you adjust the light above you. Jesus, his muscles are practically rippling and he's not even doing anything.

"Mainly," you tell him, running your fingers along his peck and trying not to drool. "But I'm pretty diverse with my music. Hit me with your best shot."

Bradley suddenly feels nervous--put on the spot. It isn't even that he is about to have a needle against his skin. No, he was in Afghanistan, he doesn't really give a fuck about three hours of needle pricks. He cares about picking a song you think is lame. God, he'd just die of embarrassment if you didn't like what he chose.

As if you can sense his sudden nervousness, you grin up at him--it has the ability to completely relax his shoulders.

"C'mon, flyboy," you smile at him, readying your tattoo gun, "give it to me."

And suddenly Bradley can't breathe. You know that--it's why you said it. You watch him suck in a breath, watch him flounder for words, watch his pupils blow. Now he knows what it feels like for you to stare at his upsettingly beautiful midsection.

So Bradley gives it to you--very subtly turning on Hot Stuff by Donna Summer. It makes the both of you laugh--you even dance a little bit for him, in a silly and unserious way that makes his heart warm.

"Bet you're a good time at the bars," he tells you with a grin.

You nod rapidly, biting your lip.

"Oh, I'm the best to go to bars with," you tell him with a grin. "I dance and I sing and I drink."

"Triple threat," Bradley grins.

You nod again, chewing on your lip again. This guy is cute--like too cute for his own good.

"Few and far in between," you say, sighing. "I'm really a spectacle."

His heart is sitting in his throat. He loves the way you blush when you're being mockingly egotistical--he thinks that makes you genuine. Genuine and confident.

"I'd gladly spectate you at any bar," he says. You smile at him, the blush in your cheeks darkening as you narrow your eyes slightly. "You know, if you're up for it."

Your answer is a resounding yes--you know that already. But you can't just give it to him like that--you like to keep guys on their toes. Especially Navy boys.

"Actually, I have a two-tattoo minimum dating requirement," you sigh, shrugging.

He smirks at you. He can do this--he can do the chase.

"Is that so?"

You nod.

"Unfortunately," you say.

"What's your availability look like tomorrow?"

There's that sweet laugh again--it's bigger this time. God, Bradley loves to make you laugh. You just look so fucking happy. Happiness looks really, really good on you.

It isn't hard for him to imagine that you really are the best person to go to the bars with. He can imagine you in a pretty little skirt, sweat dampening your hairline as you twirl on the dance floor, the golden lights above you reflecting off the glitter on your eyelids. He can imagine that your warmth would be enough to heat the entire place. You seem like someone who is just down--down for anything and everything. He likes that.

"Ready?" You ask sweetly not a moment after, still laughing quietly.

He just nods, blinking rapidly at you.

The three hours honestly flies by. The pain really isn't all that bad, not when you're making conversation the entire time. By the end of the tattoo session, he knows where you grew up and that you don't have a boyfriend and that you have a cat named Strawberry and that you don't have a boyfriend and that your favorite food is street tacos and that you don't have a boyfriend and your first concert was Neil Young. Oh, and that you don't have a boyfriend.

And by the end of the tattoo, you know that Bradley is getting the tattoo in memory of his father, who was also in the Navy. You know that he has an affinity for Jerry Lee Lewis. You know that he has a vintage car and an endless collection of vintage Hawaiian shirts. You know he's gonna be stationed here indefinitely and that he hangs out at the local Navy bar--The Hard Deck. And you know that he is endlessly pleased that you don't have a boyfriend.

"Careful sitting up," you warn softly as you take your gloves off. "You've been laying down for a while. Want a hand?"

Bradley feels totally fine. He doesn't want to brag, but he's pushed his body to the brink in his life. Laying down for three hours having a conversation with the prettiest girl he's ever seen is like a luxury for him. But he wants to touch you--so he lets you grab his hand, lets you help him sit up.

And then the two of you are close--like close enough that he can smell that sweet, flowery musk on your skin. He can see the little flecks of his favorite color in your eyes and the way your lashes fan out over your cheeks.

And you can see his scars when you're this close, these pretty white lines that roll over his skin like ridges on a map. You like scars--as an artist, you think they're part of what make bodies art. They're the human equivalent to an eraser smudge.

He doesn't move for a moment, just looking down at you with that sweet smile, just letting his eyes wash over you. And you don't move from his gaze--you feel totally comfortable in it. You haven't known Bradley for long, but you're a good people reader. You can tell that this man, intrinsically, is a good person.

"Don't you wanna check out your new ink?" You ask with a teasing smile.

He makes a show of glancing down at his chest with his eyebrow perched. Then he hums and nods in approval. When he looks back up at you, you're biting a grin of your own.

"So," he starts softly. "Your availability tomorrow?"

[say-al0e]

Home Run

Rating: PG-13 

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw has been your friend for years, a constant in an ever-evolving life. You’ve always harbored a small crush on him. All it takes is one night to change everything. | Ft. “Are we on a date right now?” requested by @xlostinobsessionsx​ and “Don’t mind me, I’m just enjoying the view,” “You’re getting shy on me now? Really?,” and “Kiss me. Like you mean it.” requested by Anon.

Warnings: Baseball, mentions of anxiety, mentions of deployment, mention of parent death (Goose is mentioned but it’s blink and you miss it), mentions of family issues. I think that’s it but let me know if you see anything else!

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x fem!Reader (call sign Angel)

Word Count: 9k (......sorry)

Top Gun Taglist | Top Gun Masterlist

“What are you doing Saturday?”

Bradley Bradshaw sank into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs opposite your desk, coffee in either hand as he spared you an expectant glance. Though he shouldn’t have looked so comfortable, at home amongst the stark white of the medical office, he’d become a near permanent fixture since returning to Top Gun.

Years had passed, several of which with only sporadic contact shared, but Bradley had barreled back into your life as if it had only been a matter of days. With the aviators he wore so often hooked into the collar of his undershirt and cheeks tinted pink from the California sun, you could almost believe it - convince yourself that you were the same twenty-somethings you’d once been - as you lifted your eyes to meet his.

“Good morning, Bradley. I’m doing fine, how are you? Gee, the weather sure is nice, though I heard it might rain,” you drawled, tone decidedly unimpressed as you glanced away from your chart to fix him with the blandest look you could muster. The lack of greeting was something he found himself guilty of often - it was nothing for him to drop into a conversation without preamble, leaving you scrambling to catch up - and you had a habit of calling him on it. However, when you were met with little more than raised brows, you allowed yourself a quiet laugh. “Manners, Bradshaw. What, were you raised in a barn?”

“I was raised in Virginia,” he reminded you, shrugging as he did so. “And spent four years in a fraternity. So, do with that what you will.” It took a great deal of effort to conceal your laughter, despite your amusement being his ultimate goal, as he swallowed his own with a sip of coffee. “Anyway,” he redirected, look pointed, “Saturday. Plans?”

With a sigh, you exchanged the pen in your hand for the coffee he slid across the desk - only slightly awed he still remembered your order - and provided Bradley with your full attention. It was clear he was a man on a mission, unbothered by the limited time to waste until training, and wouldn’t leave until he had an answer. So, you settled into your chair.

“Nope. I’m free.” It was clear that he had something in mind, an adventure of some sort he deemed you worthy of joining, but weeks had passed since you last spent quality time together. It wasn’t uncommon but you wanted to tease him, make him spell it out, so you hummed thoughtfully. “Nat’s sister is in town, Bob’s back home on leave, Mickey’s binging Star Trek in chronological order - which I’ve already done -, and Jake’s, well, Jake. So, I figured I’d just go to the beach or something. Why?”

Bradley frowned, an unexpected twinge of something akin to hurt clouding his otherwise bright eyes, as he lifted his own coffee. “I’m not on that list,” he pointed out, brows furrowing as he fixed you with a look you’d been on the receiving end of far too many times. “Why?”

The reaction was a little more serious than you were expecting and it was your turn to frown. One glance at Bradley told you that his inquiry, while uttered as teasingly as he could muster so early in the morning, was genuine. A brief flash of hurt crossed his face, darkened his eyes for a split second, before he hid his frown behind a sip of coffee.

A small pang of guilt needled at your skin. Though you’d meant it to be teasing, a joke, you never thought Bradley would take it as anything else.

“I just figured you’d be with Mav again,” you explained, only a little guilty. It was accompanied by an uncertain shrug as you stirred your coffee, though you knew Bradley could tell how bad you felt. “You’ve been with him the last few weekends and I didn’t want to interrupt the bonding.” When Bradley made a face, brows furrowing as he attempted to recount exactly how much time he’d been spending with Maverick - and when you last spent time together - you laughed quietly. “I think it’s nice, Roo,” you insisted, shooting him what you hoped to be a reassuring smile. “I’m glad you’re getting along. And now that we’re stationed together again, we can hang out whenever. It’s not a big deal.”

“That’s very thoughtful and I appreciate it,” he declared, slipping his foot under the gap in your desk to nudge yours, “but call me out when I get distant. You’re important to me.”

Though your entire body grew warm at the weight of his declaration - the sincerity with which he spoke, the earnest look in his eyes, the soft gravel of his voice - you swallowed the butterflies threatening to escape and shook your head. 

Bradley Bradshaw was one of your closest friends and had been a part of your life for much of your adulthood. You’d seen him at his best - and at his worst - and knew what it meant to love him. He had a tendency to leave a trail of broken hearts in his wake, unintentionally as he’d always been charismatic yet emotionally unavailable, and you’d spent the last ten years determined not to be one.

Instead of allowing yourself to dwell on the feelings you’d realized last time you were stationed together, the feelings you’d spent years questioning and rationalizing and compartmentalizing; instead of allowing yourself to dwell on the warmth, then the chill of realization that he couldn’t mean that in the way you so desperately hoped, you shook your head.

“There’s a difference between being distant and making up for lost time, Roo.”

Bradley waved a hand, dismissing the idea even as his gaze dropped to the cup in his hands for a moment. “Anyway,” he redirected, lifting his gaze once more after a moment of silence. “There’s this new place downtown. It’s a bar but it’s got an arcade, go-karts, mini-golf; all kinds of shit.” He paused, for dramatic effect, you were sure - he’d been spending too much time with Fanboy, you decided, though you managed to keep from rolling your eyes. “There’s also a batting cage.”

The foundation of your friendship with Bradley was built on a handful of shared interests and experiences. You’d both had difficult upbringings, marred by tragedy, and both went to a traditional university rather than the Naval Academy. And, in the pursuit of your degrees, both spent years as student athletes. So, if the grin threatening to lift the corners of his mouth was anything to go by, Bradley knew he had you with the mention of the batting cage.

“Yeah, I heard about it. Fritz took his girlfriend there last weekend. She said it was nice.” Even before her confirmation, you’d seen it online and placed it on a list of ‘to-visit’ spots. There was no question that Bradley would be the perfect companion to enjoy all the bar had to offer but you continued to play coy. “Apparently, they’re working with that brewery, that one with the nice taproom we went to a few months ago.”

For a brief moment, silence settled over the corner of the medical office you called yours. Bradley waited, just until you returned your gaze to his, before raising a brow at you. “You’re going to make me ask, aren’t you?” His amusement was obvious, laughter badly hidden behind his coffee cup as he awaited your confirmation, but he wasted no time giving in to you. “Do you want to go with me, check it out?”

“It’s only fair, since you’ve been avoiding me.” The unamused look Bradley shot you nearly made you break, laughter bubbling in your through - regardless of the pang of guilt you felt earlier, you knew he wouldn’t take offense - but you bit your tongue and nodded. “Yeah, alright. S’long as you don’t pout when I embarrass you at the batting cage.”

A scoff left his lips as he stood from his seat, mission accomplished and ready to finally begin his day. “We were both pitchers, Angel,” he reminded you, rolling his eyes as he gathered his coffee and waited for you to do the same. “Neither of us can bat for shit.”

“Hey, speak for yourself, Bradshaw.” You followed his lead, gathering the items necessary for you to begin your rounds, as you offered him a saccharine smile. “I was a cleanup hitter.”

The word ‘bullshit,’ disguised with a purposefully awful cough escaped Bradley’s lips. When you rolled your eyes, amused at his disbelief, he laughed. “Seriously?”

“Dead serious. I swear I’ve told you this before, but look up my stats, frat boy,” you implored him, not bothering to hide your laughter as you rounded the desk and headed for the door with him close behind. “You were day drinking and I was in a batting cage. We were not the same.”

Silence settled for a moment, broken by the sounds of the medical staff beginning their morning shift, as you ambled down the hall with Bradley close by. Finally, after a beat, he hummed thoughtfully. 

“Guess we’ll see on Saturday, then.” He brushed past you to hold the door, body close enough for the scent of his cologne to overpower the antiseptic and cloud your thoughts, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat as he glanced down at you. Still, you swallowed the butterflies beginning to swarm in your stomach as he proposed, “Fewest hits buys dinner?”

“I’m an expensive date, Bradshaw.” The taunt was nowhere near as strong as you intended, nowhere near as sharp, but if Bradley noticed, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he simply shrugged as you both paused just shy of the exit.

“So am I, Angel.” 

Then, for just a moment, Bradley studied you. Those warm brown eyes raked over your skin, rapidly heating from the weight of his attention, as that amused grin never faltered. His eyes, however, softened considerably as you blinked at him. There seemed to be something on the tip of his tongue, some witty quip that would make you laugh, but before he could speak, the door opened and a handful of nurses streamed into the hallway.

The group, who you knew well and worked with daily, all bid you both a good morning - though you could see from their not-so-discreet stares that you’d be answering questions about your relationship, or lack thereof, with Bradley later on - and the moment was broken.

Bradley spared a glance at his watch, seemed to realize the time, and reached for the door. “I’ll see you Saturday.” And with that, he stepped outside, off in the direction of the hangar, leaving you to shake your head.

Spending time with Bradley was something you’d always adored, regardless of what it meant and where you ended up - whether it was at the Hard Deck, surrounded by the group of pilots you’d been accepted into without question, or out on the beach, alone as you watched the waves roll in. Though you had a tendency to tease, to give him a hard time, you were glad to accept any invitation to make up for lost time.

And while plans made at the beginning of the week always seemed so far away, especially plans made with Bradley, Saturday seemed to roll around far quicker than you expected.

Between new students - some losing the battle against the California sun, others losing the battle against a bottle of tequila - and yearly appointments all seeming to fall within the same few day span, you barely had time to breathe, let alone think about your weekend plans. Bradley was also kept busy, pulled in one direction or another as he prepared for yet another special mission, and your paths only crossed briefly throughout the week.

Though communication was limited - only a handful of words shared in passing, along with a text or two to confirm plans hadn’t changed - Bradley still arrived at your place at six on the dot.

Bradley made it halfway up the sidewalk, ready to knock at your door and greet you with a grin - some witty quip on his lips about how nice you cleanup - before you stepped out onto the small stoop with a bright grin of your own.

“Ya know, I was kind of expecting you to be fashionably late, Roo.”

While he’d never been late for work - Bradley understood the importance of time management, valued his job and wanted to make a positive impression on his superiors - he had a habit of making a grand entrance elsewhere. Most nights, he sauntered into the Hard Deck fifteen minutes after everyone else, dressed in a gaudy Hawaiian shirt and blue jeans that always hugged his thighs just right. He nearly always showed up to Sunday brunch with a hangover, twenty minutes after the agreed upon time, and already nursing a hangover. 

But the thing about Bradley’s habitual lateness; he’d never been late for you.

If you made plans, agreed to spend quality time together without the rest of the Daggers, he made it a point to show up. Hungover, exhausted, burnt out from a long week - it never seemed to matter. Bradley had never left you hanging and you’d long since stopped wondering when that day would come. Instead, you thanked your lucky stars that Bradley Bradshaw deemed you worthy of his time and attention and grinned at him as you approached the Bronco.

Bradley caught the teasing lilt to your voice immediately, saw the glittering amusement in your eyes, and laughed himself as he shook his head. “I figured I got lucky enough getting you to hang out with me. Didn’t want to push it by being late.”

“Very thoughtful.” In true Bradley fashion, he opened the Bronco door for you, aviators slipping down the bridge of his nose as he took in the outfit - casual, but still nicer than anything you’d wear to the Hard Deck - you wore. You ignored the warmth creeping up your chest at the weight of his gaze, swallowed it in hopes of drowning the butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach, as you shook your head. “And chivalrous, too! It’s a wonder you’re so painfully single, Bradshaw.”

The roll of his eyes was playful, unbothered by the teasing jab at his relationship status - something that had become a running joke among the Daggers by this point, anyway - as he rounded the Bronco to join you. “It’s the emotional unavailability,” he defended, shrugging as he turned on the vehicle. “Or something like that.”

“At least you’re self-aware. That counts for something, I think.”

Occasionally, you wondered if the jabs at Bradley’s lack of a love life - or, rather, lack of a committed love life, lack of a steady love life, as he’d had his fair share of flings over the years, though they’d slowed to a complete stop since his return to Top Gun - ever bothered him.

Jake started it all a few months after the Daggers’ friendship became real, shortly after that first mission ended. He made some stupid joke about Bradley’s lack of commitment after he found himself committed to a pretty bartender and it was true enough. Bradley hadn’t had a steady partner in years, not one that he deemed worthy of introducing to his friends, anyway, and you all took turns playing armchair therapist to rationalize why.

Still, Bradley seemed to take it all in stride.

As he always seemed to, Bradley shook his head and laughed quietly as he pulled away from the curb. Instead of arguing, carrying on with the bit as he sometimes did, the conversation fell into a natural lull as he allowed his usual playlist - comprised of eighties throwbacks and the occasional song from his days as a frat boy - to fill the cab of the Bronco.

While it should’ve been uncomfortable, silence with Bradley never was. Even in the beginning of your friendship, back when you were both bright-eyed and overwhelmed with the seemingly endless possibilities your futures seemed to hold, Bradley was was comfortable. And even back then, when your heart seemed to skip a beat every time he smiled at you - every time you were certain your skin would remain permanently on fire, every time you were certain your giddy laughter would give you away - it was always easy.

No matter how much time seemed to pass, no matter how many miles separated you, Bradley had always been a constant. And it seemed that no matter where in the world you found yourselves, when you reunited, there was an overwhelming feeling of returning home.

When you stopped to think about it, that comfort - that feeling of home, that stability - was what kept you from risking your friendship with Bradley.

Though you’d harbored an ever-growing, seemingly never fading, crush on him since the day you met, pushing for anything more came with a risk of losing him for good. Acting on those feelings, acknowledging them outside the confines of your own thoughts, meant risking everything you’d built.

The friendship you shared survived distance, months spent oceans apart; it survived seemingly endless stretches of time with limited communication; it survived deployments, periods of discomfort, moments of doubt, and everything in between because there was no pressure.

With Bradley, there were never any expectations. 

Bradley had always been comfortable because with him, you felt the freedom to just exist. He never expected you to be anything other than yourself, accepted you for the person that you were, and saw the beauty in that. He never judged you for saying the wrong thing or having a bad day, never thought less of you for needing a shoulder to lean on. He never made you feel less than.

There was never a fear of fucking it all up but you knew the moment you crossed that line, the moment you allowed yourself to give in and fall completely in love with Bradley Bradshaw, you were opening yourself up for a heartbreak you’d only had nightmares of.

Before you could spiral further, fall into a pit of despair so deep it would take the rest of the weekend to climb out of, Bradley’s voice cut through the din inside your head. That voice, rasp a balm for your suddenly aching chest, rang in your ears as he declared, “Hate to interrupt your attempt to solve all the world’s problems, but we’re here.”

A cursory glance out the window confirmed his statement and you blinked as you took in the sheer size of it all. “Fritz really undersold this place,” you said, sparing Bradley a quick glance before eying the packed parking lot. “It’s massive.”

“I don’t know what I was expecting but I don’t think it was this.”

A hum of agreement was all that seemed necessary and even that was lost to the ether as Bradley parked and shut off the engine. While you were entranced by all the bar offered, eyes wide as you scanned the patio just to the side, he was quick to round the Bronco and open the door for you. He grinned when you shot him a look, eyes sparkling with a sort of mischief as he awaited your teasing comment about chivalry, but you both remained quiet for a moment as you crossed the parking lot.

The bar itself looked like something plucked from your fondest childhood memories; a clash of past and present with an arcade facade, a mini-golf course, batting cages, and a go-kart track out back, all accompanied by a few bars scattered around, and you were struck by a sudden wave of nostalgia as gravel crunched beneath your feet.

Bradley seemed to be, too, as he gestured to the course with a grin. “I think every mini-golf place I ever went to growing up had one of those bridges.” He pointed to an awkward length bridge, covering the short distance between holes split by a trickle of water meant to represent a river, and you laughed.

“At least they’re useful.” At that moment, a small group climbed single file over the bridge - when they could’ve easily just stepped over - and you hummed. “Well, sort of. All the ones on the Gulf Coast have random alligators.” Bradley’s laughter was cut short as he raised a brow, question of whether you meant real alligators or statues - or maybe both - but you only shrugged. 

Though you hadn’t been stationed together in years, you’d kept up with one another. Any time you moved, packed it all up and traded this coast for that one, you shared the details with one another. Bradley had been sent photos from Florida - pictures of alligators and Disney and stormy beaches - while you were sent photos from Virginia and, after the fact, the middle of the ocean.

The only time either of you kept your relocation a secret was his initial return to Fightertown as it came after yours and he’d wanted to surprise you.

That line of conversation and the following contemplative silence didn’t last very long as Bradley spared you a glance. “What were you thinking so hard about on the drive? Thought I saw smoke coming out of your ears.”

Bradley was often direct with you, asked questions you would sometimes prefer not to answer, but there was no chance you intended to share your line of thinking. He would get it, you knew that, but the conversation was unnecessary as you were doing just fine hiding it all. So, you shook your head and offered him your best smile. “Doesn’t matter. Just a long week.” That wasn’t technically a lie, it had been a painfully long week, but he didn’t need to know that all thoughts outside of him ceased to exist the moment you stepped out your front door to see him waiting for you. Instead, you attempted to redirect by gesturing to the batting cages. “We starting or ending there?”

There was a look in his eyes that made you fearful he would continue his line of questioning, one that said he didn’t believe you, but he seemed to think better of pushing. “I was thinking we end there,” he reasoned as he glanced over and offered you a half-smile. “Build the suspense, you know?”

“Or get enough drinks in that neither of us will be up to our usual.” It was playfully accusatory, teasing in a way that felt so natural with Bradley, and you felt a small sense of triumph as he laughed.

“You were in a batting cage, I was day drinking,” he reminded you, snickering as he repeated your quip from earlier in the week. When you cut your eyes at him, his smile seemed to double in size. “A beer or two won’t have any impact at all on my batting average, Angel.”

“I’d like to say that I’m surprised,” you sighed as you stepped through the front door, “but I don’t think I am.”

Bradley rolled his eyes fondly as he followed you inside, close behind to keep from being separated. “C’mon,” he urged, “first round’s on me.”

Knowing Bradley, every round would be on him. He’d insisted since being reunited, declared he was making up for lost time when he dragged you out on nights he knew you’d rather be in bed, but you knew better. Bradley was better with actions than with words - small gestures, such as buying a round or completing an annoying to-do list task - and used them to show that he cared.

This was a conversation you’d had a dozen times before, a fight he never let you win, so you made no effort to argue as you headed for the bar.

The entire building was impressive, decorated to match the overall theme of childhood nostalgia with neon signs and patterned carpet. The walls were lined with old games - Pac-Man, Space Invaders, pinball machines - and it seemed that everywhere you turned, there was something new to discover.

Little conversation was shared at first as both you and Bradley were too busy marveling at the sheer size of the space. It was almost overwhelming, too many choices in one building, but soon, you were wandering through the vastness of it all in search of your next activity.

Much of the night passed in a blur of bright colors and loud noises. The games themselves were fun, easy enough when you had a drink in your hand - though you and Bradley both kept it light with only one drink each, too busy having fun to return to the bar and wait. Bradley’s presence, however, made it all the better.

Bradley kept you close as you weaved through the crowds, one hand at the center of your back - respectful, but still enough to have your breath catching in your throat with every press of his fingers as you felt the warmth of his palm through the material of your top. 

While you opted against the go-karts and mini-golf, you’d already formulated a plan to return with the rest of the Daggers in tow. You and Bradley mapped it all out between games of skee ball and Crazy Taxi - you’d begin with go-karts, before the group started drinking, and end with the pair of you showing everyone up in the batting cages. It was perfect, silly and fun, and you found yourself forgetting everything that wasn’t the immense joy you were experiencing.

Hours passed in a haze of giddy laughter and jokes traded at the others’ expense before you finally made your way outside. With his hand still at the center of your back, slipping lower with every step, Bradley guided you to the batting cages with a grin.

“Alright, slugger,” he teased, eyes bright and glittering in the overhead lights as he gestured to the rack of bats. “Lady’s first. Show me how it’s done.”

With a playful shake of your head, you stepped away from Bradley and reached for a helmet and a bat. There was no doubt that he believed you - he believed nearly everything you said, whether he should have or not - but he was once a pitcher, too. It was an experience you shared, one few people you saw daily understood, and you knew this was less about you proving yourself and more about finding something you had in common and celebrating it.

The entire night was a way to spend time together doing something you both loved, something you rarely got to indulge in these days, and you were grateful he’d suggested it. Even as you stepped into the batting cage, weight of Bradley’s gaze heavy against your skin, you felt nothing but the giddy excitement you’d been experiencing since stepping foot into the bar.

Had it been anyone else, you might’ve felt nervous. The teasing, the playful jeering as you took a few practice swings, might’ve made you afraid of looking stupid. But this was Bradley. While he could be competitive, it was always playful - with you, anyway. This was fun and you knew he would cheer you on regardless, so you nodded when he asked if you were ready to start.

When the first ball came flying toward you, speed at the max setting, you inhaled deeply before taking a swing. The ball whistled as it soared high, a resounding ‘ping’ echoed through the cages and earned a few glances from passersby, and you felt a sort of relief as it flew into the net before bouncing back toward the return.

Laughter, amused and a little awed, rang out behind you as you caught Bradley shake his head from the corner of your eye. “You weren’t joking.”

“You almost sound surprised, Bradshaw,” you teased, though he didn’t - not in the slightest. “This one’s going to the left, top corner,” you informed him as you shifted your hips and waited for the next ball.

As it flew high and left with another sharp ‘ping,’ Bradley leaned against the barrier and folded his arms over his chest. “Where are we goin’ for dinner?” The question was asked with a smile, bright and tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “Your choice since I’m clearly going to be paying for it.”

“It’s not over ’til it’s over.” Even as you spoke, words interrupted by a huff of effort as you took a swing, Bradley seemed unconvinced. And, if he’d been as honest as you, he had every reason to be. With a laugh, you offered, “I was thinking about that place by the beach, the one with the cool patio.”

“Sure.” Bradley would’ve allowed you to choose regardless - and wouldn’t have let you pay for him, even if you proved to be an awful batter - because that was the kind of friend he’d always been. The restaurant on the beach was a shared favorite, however, a staple that you visited at least once a month, and you knew you would’ve likely ended up there, anyway. So, you felt little remorse about your choice, even as he continued. “You’re only two balls in but you win,” he relented, laughing as he lifted his soda to take a sip. “Where’s this one headed?”

“Straight up the middle.”

Between pitches, you spared him a glance over your shoulder. You expected him to look bemused, pretending to be put out by your ability, but there was a look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. His smile was fond, brighter than you expected, and you almost convinced yourself it was pride that had his shoulders set a little straighter as a passing pair praised your ability.

Even the brief notion that Bradley was proud of you, impressed by your ability in a way few others had been, was enough to warm you from within. Heat flooded your veins, much as it did every time he spared you a wayward compliment, and it took a conscious effort to keep yourself from preening under his scrutiny.

“Why am I not surprised you’re a place hitter?” His question was punctuated with another resounding ‘ping,’ followed by a ball flying into the net, as he shook his head once more. “Starting to think you were grown in a lab, Angel.” 

It was clearly teasing, a soft jab accompanied by laughter, but you couldn’t help the bashful shrug as you readied yourself for another ball. His jokes about your perfection had become more frequent, accompanied by soft laughter, and though you knew he’d witnessed your flaws, it still made your skin prickle any time Bradley saw the good in you.

Still, you swallowed the warmth and tightened your grip on the bat. “Told you, batting cages while you were day drinking.” There was a brief pause as you took another swing, this hit a line drive to the left, before you admitted, “Softball and nursing school didn’t leave much time for fun or friends so, batting cage it was.”

“We would’ve been friends,” he declared, certain in a way you wished you could be - though you were grateful to have met him later in life. You knew yourself well enough to know that you likely wouldn’t have been able to handle the schoolgirl crush you’d formed almost immediately after meeting him, not then. But Bradley didn’t give you much time to dwell as he hummed, “We could’ve been day drinking and hitting the batting cages together.”

“I don’t know if I would’ve befriended frat boy Bradley.” Though you offered him a teasing grin, laughed when he rolled his eyes, you knew that you would have. You were half-certain that you would’ve found Bradley in any life and fallen just as hard, no matter the circumstances of your meeting. But you kept that realization to yourself as you teased, “His idea of fun sounds like it could end in an ER visit.”

“Would’ve given a student nurse some real life experience,” he reasoned, smile growing into something brilliant when you laughed. “But at least you admit it sounds like fun.” Bradley tipped his head then, brows furrowing as he watched you take another swing. “Why’d you play, though? Nursing always sounded hard enough without being an athlete, too.”

Over the years, you’d had more conversations with Bradley than you could count. There were very few topics that hadn’t come up as you shared nearly everything - your career, your friends, your hobbies, your interests, your hometowns - but family was one of them. And, in a long line of similarities, your reason for playing softball and his reason for playing baseball was rooted in family.

Bradley once mentioned that baseball was originally deigned something to do, a task that got him out of the house and incorporated him into the community when he and his mother moved to Virginia after Goose’s death. He once shared that it was something his father loved as a child, an alternate life path he could’ve taken, and indulging in it made him feel a little closer to the father he missed. He admitted that it made him feel weightless - long before he experienced true weightlessness in the cockpit of a jet - but he’d never asked you why.

It was just one of those things that went unspoken until it didn’t.

“Family,” you revealed, not bothering to turn even as he made a noise of understanding. “My grandmother played. She got married and had kids really young. Sports weren’t really a thing for women in her time, anyway, but there was a rec league in town. She was amazing; a switch hitter, place hitter, a damn good pitcher. If she’d been born a little later, she could’ve made a life for herself playing. But she wasn’t and she couldn’t. My mom tried to take after her but she never really got the hang of it. I was the only one who did, so, I guess I figured I had to be the one to live the dream for them.”

The weight of your rationale was not lost on Bradley, you knew that, but he was never one to push for more. That was enough, enough vulnerability for a batting cage in the middle of a crowd, so he shifted. “Do you still play?”

Once upon a time, after a handful of drinks and a few stories about the Naval Academy from the Daggers, Bradley shared the things he missed about college. Baseball was one of them as he hadn’t played since graduation. He’d been asked, a handful of times, to join in on the odd pickup game here or there but it wasn’t the same and you knew that. There was little a pickup game could do to recapture the feeling you’d experienced on a field with teammates but Bradley seemed to realize that you’d at least swung a bat since graduating.

“Sometimes,” you confirmed, finally sparing him a sideways glance. Those brown eyes followed your every move, every shift of your hips or flex of your foot, and you felt your skin prickle under his scrutiny. You shrugged, returning your gaze to the machine, and took a deep breath. “I join local leagues when I can, if I hear about them. It was easier when I was working at a hospital with civilian nurses but most of the time, they don’t really want me joining in. I can never promise I’ll be around for a whole season or that I can make it to everything. I get it, though. They want someone who’s going to be there.”

When the machine finally shut off, you turned to face Bradley. There was a look on his face that you couldn’t read - something contemplative, softer than you expected - as he declared, “Their loss. They’d be lucky to have you, Angel.”

Bradley’s sincerity was obvious, almost achingly so, and you felt your heart clench at his declaration. It meant more than you knew it should but before you could dwell, consider exactly how it made you feel, Bradley headed for the controls.

“Wait,” you called out, before he could press the ‘start’ button. “Don’t you want to bat? I feel like I’ve been in here forever.”

“Don’t mind me.” He smiled, this one real and bright, as he gestured to you. You stood, still inside the cage with a bat clutched in one hand, and lifted your gaze to meet his eyes. “I’m just enjoying the view.”

A storm of butterflies filled the pit of your stomach. Your skin heated, your heart thumped just a bit too hard in your chest, and you had to tip your head to hide your face as you shook your head. There was a slight edge to his voice, a deeper rasp that you’d only heard used at the Hard Deck - locked in conversation with pretty girls you watched him take home instead of you - and you were almost convinced you imagined it. However, before you could question it, Bradley laughed.

“Oh, you’re getting shy on me now? Really?” As desperately as you wanted to make some sort of witty quip, return his teasing with some of your own and hope that your voice didn’t shake, you could only attempt to swallow the warmth creeping up your chest as he pressed the button. “I’m having plenty of fun watching you, Angel. Keep going!”

There was a warmth to Bradley’s comment that seeped into your bones, warmed you from within. Bradley complimented you frequently, sought to make you - and other friends, including Natasha - feel proud, but this was different. There was a weight to everything he’d said throughout the course of the night you’d never felt before.

The weight of his statement, the softness with which he spoke, had your voice catching in your throat as you waited for the machine to start. Your heart continued to thunder in your chest, cheeks heating, but you attempted to disregard the feeling of Bradley’s gaze burning into your skin.

When you finally found your voice, heart still beating just a touch too fast even after the first hit, you shook your head. “One more round,” you relented, “and then you’re up, Bradshaw.”

If Bradley heard the waver in your voice, if he noticed the slight heave of your chest as you fought to even your breathing, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he nodded easily. “Of course. We have to end the night with a laugh,” he reasoned, poking fun at his own abilities. “You gonna be my relief hitter when I strike out?”

“It’s a batting cage, Roo.” It was meant to make you laugh, meant to ease the tension you knew he could see in your shoulders, but it worked as you leaned into a swing. “There are no strikeouts.”

Before he could counter, make some joke that would keep you laughing and fully ease you back into the moment, a passerby - who’d definitely had more than your one drink - yelled, “Damn, man. Your girl’s killing it!”

“Yeah, she is.”

Three words, a simple acknowledgement of a drunken compliment, and you nearly missed the next pitch that flew toward you. It likely meant nothing to him - he likely hadn’t even noticed the man call you his girl - but if you weren’t careful, you knew this moment would play on a loop in the back of your mind. 

It was intoxicating, the idea that someone else saw you as Bradley’s girl, but you made a herculean effort to stay focused on the task at hand as you took swing after swing. A handful of passersby continued to cheer, drunken words of encouragement rang out with every ball you sent soaring, but Bradley kept quiet as you flew through the remaining pitches on the machine.

There were no witty quips, no jokes, and you were grateful for the relative silence as you allowed the repetitive motion to calm your rapidly beating heart.

Finally, when the machine reached zero and you’d reached a state of semi-normalcy, you turned to watch as he grabbed his own helmet and bat.

Bradley approached with a smile, though it was softer than it had been all night - gentle, almost timid in a way you’d never seen him - and brushed your shoulder with his own as you passed in the entryway. Though it was far from the first time he’d touched you, a jolt of electricity flew through your body at the contact and you struggled to inhale deeply as you offered him what you hoped to be a teasing grin.

“Alright, frat boy,” you hummed, voice quieter than you intended but still playful enough, “show me what you’ve got.”

The quip made Bradley laugh, even as he shook his head at the nickname. “Prepare to be woefully underwhelmed, Angel,” he teased, offering you a grin as he settled into his stance.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

With a nod from Bradley, you pressed the ‘start’ button and watched as the first pitch flew toward him. And, with that very first swing, you knew he’d been telling the truth.

Bradley’s first attempt ended in a foul ball, right off the tip of the bat, and the second fell just a little too close to his hands. His third was a complete miss, though he made a decent effort, and you lifted your hand to cover your mouth in an attempt to stifle your laughter. 

There was no telling how much of this was an act - playing up his lack of ability to make you laugh, to make you feel better about your own prowess - but you couldn’t help yourself as you winced when he dropped his shoulder and missed a third ball.

“Nevermind. You really are a shitty batter, Bradshaw.”

“Funny, that’s what every coach I’ve ever had said.” When you laughed, shaking your head at his self-deprecating joke, Bradley took another swing. With another miss, he spared you a quick glance over his shoulder. “This is why I was a pitcher,” he acknowledged, glancing at a ball that rolled past his feet. “Next time, we’ll go to a field somewhere and I can redeem myself.”

“No redemption necessary. I believe you’re a good pitcher,” you promised him, laughing as he jolted away from a ball spiraling too close for his comfort. “Pitchers aren’t supposed to be able to hit.”

Bradley made yet another attempt and you nearly clapped as this one connected and flew into the top right corner. With it, Bradley laughed. “That’s the best you’re gonna get,” he declared, smiling as he spared you another glance. “Press stop for me, Angel?”

With a laugh of your own, you pressed the ‘stop’ button and waited a moment for Bradley to exit the batting cage. As he stepped out, returned his helmet and bat, you took a moment to study him.

Bradley Bradshaw was beautiful. Though you kept your feelings for him a closely guarded secret, everyone knew you found him attractive. You weren’t the only one who thought so, especially on those nights he wore the jeans that hugged his thighs just right to the Hard Deck - especially on the nights he wore his Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned, collar of his undershirt weighed down by aviators and exposing a sliver of sun kissed skin - but you were always struck by just how pretty he was up close.

Though you’d never been much of a fan of the mustache - a commonality on every base you’d ever been stationed at, especially among pilots - it worked for Bradley. It suited him and you were glad he hadn’t been talked out of it yet.

Even on the toughest of days, Bradley always offered you a smile. He made it a point to be honest with you, to tell you when he felt rough or when he’d seen better days, but he always left having shared at least one smile. It was always encouraging, always there when you needed it, and you were grateful that Bradley deemed you worthy of his smile.

And those eyes - warm and beautiful, always so expressive whenever he regarded you - never failed to make you weak in the knees. With every gaze you shared, with every glance exchanged, you found yourself falling deeper into a hole you knew you would never be able to climb free from.

However, as Bradley turned to you, you felt the air escape your lungs as you began to realize that you were alright with never being able to climb free.

As afraid as you were that the comfort you found in Bradley would be lost should you allow yourself to fall completely, you realized that he would never allow that. 

Bradley had been a part of your life for years, there for you through the best and worst moments of your life. No matter what happened, he’d proven to be a constant - a home for you to return to in even the most troubling of times. There was never any doubt that he would remain in your life, even if you learned what it was to love and lose Bradley Bradshaw, and you began to accept that.

In a stunning moment of realization, you came to the understanding that should you choose to give this a try, should Bradley want you in the way that you wanted him, he would do everything in his power to be there for you regardless. And should he not want you - though, as you finally gave yourself the space to consider, you wondered if the things you rationalized as friendship actually meant more to him - he would never leave you out in the cold.

Even if everything that could go wrong did go wrong, even if a relationship happened and ended in heartbreak, you were confident that Bradley Bradshaw would remain constant.

After years of stability, years of love and patience, there was little that could push him away. 

“Angel?” Bradley’s voice broke through the haze, drew you out of your thoughts and back to reality as you blinked at him. He frowned, concerned, and took a half-step closer as he studied your face. “Are you okay? I lost you for a minute.”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” With a smile, you gave Bradley a nod - hopefully convincing him that you were, in fact, alright - before gesturing to the mini-golf course. “I think we played everything inside but there’s always mini-golf, if you want to keep playing. But I’m good if you want to call it a night.”

“I think my pride’s taken a severe enough hit,” he teased, expression relaxing slightly as he glanced toward the parking lot. “Let’s get you home. It’s almost past your bedtime, anyway.”

Though you rolled your eyes, you shook your head fondly as Bradley fell into step beside you and began heading slowly toward the Bronco. 

The question you’d wanted to ask for a long while - whether Bradley wanted the relationship you did, whether he saw you win the same light - lingered on the tip of your tongue. After years of wondering ‘what-if,’ you finally allowed yourself to ask the question aloud.

“Bradley?” Warm brown eyes met yours, soft and still slightly concerned, as he hummed his acknowledgement. “Is this…” You weighed your words for a moment, considering, before you finally settled on a question. “Are we on a date right now?”

A soft, half-smile lifted the corner of Bradley’s mouth as he reached into his pocket in search of his keys. It was almost bashful, the way he ducked his head, and you swallowed to keep yourself grounded as you waited.

“I wanted it to be,” he admitted, voice quiet as the din of the bar began to fade. “I was going to really ask, make it obvious that’s what I wanted, I just…”

Bradley’s hesitation felt familiar. His shrug, noncommittal and questioning, was the same thing you found yourself doing whenever Natasha questioned why you refused to make a move. There was a tinge of fear in the pink dusting his cheeks, in the set of his shoulders as you approached the Bronco, and you held your breath as he shook his head.

“I like being your friend. I’m happy to be your friend,” he stressed, coming to a stop at the passenger side of the Bronco. In the dim light of the parking lot, Bradley’s eyes glittered as they met yours. “I haven’t spent this long being your friend as some sort of consolation prize, worried you didn’t like me back. This isn’t settling and I don’t see our friendship as less than a relationship,” he assured you, soothing a worry you’d buried deep - one he likely sensed all along. “I just… I always knew it wasn’t the right time, we were both trying to establish ourselves. But when we were apart, I thought about you all the time. I missed you all the time, more than anyone else.”

Knowing that Bradley valued your friendship first, believed it to be important - worth as much as romantic love, not something he simply settled for in place of something he’d rather have - made your chest ache as you reached out to place a hand on his bicep.

“I missed you, too, Bradley.” When his eyes met yours, smile soft and gaze so reverential it nearly stole your breath, you couldn’t help but take a half-step closer.

Bradley remained quiet for a moment, as if considering his words, before he smiled bashfully. “I’ve always thought about this,” he admitted, hand lifting to cup your cheek. His palm seared your skin, warm and heavy and a comfort you’d wished for for years, and your breath caught in your throat as he continued.

“Why now?”

It wasn’t a question you needed an answer to, not at that moment - not under the buzz of a streetlight and in the view of drunken strangers - but it seemed important as you struggled to focus on anything other than the warmth of Bradley’s skin pressed to yours.

“Mav. He got his second chance with Penny,” Bradley reminded you, voice soft. “We never lost touch but this was another chance. I couldn’t let this one pass me by.”

“Kiss me.” Bradley smiled then, clearly pleased by your request, and leaned in. He pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss, a chaste peck, and you nearly laughed at the feeling of his facial hair brushing your skin. His lips, slightly chapped, were warm and you lifted a hand to the back of his neck as you mumbled against his mouth, “Like you mean it, Roo.”

With a half-step, you pressed yourself impossibly closer and released the years of longing you’d suffered into the kiss. Fireworks popped behind your eyelids, blood simmered in your veins as heat engulfed your entire body, and you wondered if every kiss would be this wonderful as Bradley’s free hand fell to your waist. His fingers pressed into your hip, lips working against yours, as everything around you ceased to exist.

Despite the heat of the night, the dimness of the parking lot, you would’ve been content to remain there for the rest of the night. All that mattered was Bradley, his body pressed to yours as years of longing were swept away, but all too soon, a loud cheer broke through the blissful haze.

A group of drunken passersby cheered, whistled and encouraged you both as they wandered through the parking lot to meet an Uber, and you pulled away from Bradley with a laugh. As you tipped your head to hide your smile, mild embarrassment heating your skin, you decided that the moment still couldn’t have been better.

Bradley seemed to agree as he grinned and brushed a thumb across your cheekbone. “I can’t bat to save my life but I think tonight was a home run,” he teased, laughing as you groaned at the pun. “C’mon, let me take you home.”

“Please. Before I decide I’ve had enough of the awful jokes and leave you hanging.”

Years had passed in which you suffered through Bradley’s awful jokes with a patient smile and a disbelieving laugh. There was little you wouldn’t do for him, even less he wouldn’t do for you, but you were still left giddy by his rolling eyes. “There’s no getting rid of me now,” he promised, laughing as he started up the Bronco. “We’re in it for the long haul.”

It was a promise, one that you hoped he’d be able to keep, and you felt a surge of hope for the future.

There was no expectation for the rest of the night, no pressure as you made your way back to your place, and you were content with that. Neither of you said much on the drive, simply allowed yourselves to exist together, and for the first time, you had no worries about ‘what-if.’ Instead, there was only the thought of ‘what could be.’

A deeper conversation had to be had, you both knew that, but there would be time for that later. There was an entire future awaiting you both.

And instead of wishing it to arrive so soon, you focused solely on the moment at hand.

As Bradley walked you up the sidewalk, palm warm in your own, you made no effort to wipe the smile from your lips. The giddy feeling in your chest made you feel as if you were walking on air, excited for the possibilities that now seemed endless.

The unknown was always terrifying and there was no guarantee for the future - no guarantee for anything more than the moment at hand. But Bradley Bradshaw had always been a constant.  He’d been by your side for years, steady and true and loving. He was home, a light in the dark, and he was right; with him, you’d certainly hit a home run.

___________________________________________________

Author’s Note: It has been a Shit week. I’m going to go rewatch Top Gun and lay in the dark for a while. Enjoy the friends to lovers fun.

Taglist: @lulu-noodles, @holachicos, @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth, @withakindheartx, @ssprayberrythings, @verin93, @totalwitch2, @malindacath, @alexparkxr, @hangmandruigandmav, @alexxavicry, @calicokel, @jaymum, @dracosluvbot, @little-wiseone, @specialk6802, @mandylove1000, @julesclues, @archetypesoflife, @oliviah-25, @benhardysdrumstick, @caatheeriinee07, @yvespoems, @chloereidwayne, @flower-name​, @callsignharper​, @peoniarose​, @hangmanscoming​, @rh3tt​, @dakotakazansky​

[punishereditz]

Jazzy Woman

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Plus size!f!reader

Warnings: 18 plus only! Minors DNI! DO NOT COPY! Lead up to smut. Fluff. Unprotected sex. P in V. Oral. (f receiving) Praise kink. Size kink. Riding. Fingering. Hair pulling. Insecure reader. Mentions of insecurities and self-doubt.

AN: As someone who is plus sized; this story truly means the world to me. And is a reminder that all bodies are beautiful and that you deserve to treat yourself right. Words can't say how proud I am of this and how much I love this. Now, I could be wrong, but I like to think that Bradley would be into curvy girls. Also, go listen to all the songs! They are amazing!

Summary: You don't think your pretty enough and worthy of having love or being with someone. But Bradley thinks very differently of that.

~

Bradley loves to come to the bar to have a good time with his friends, drink and sing. But his motivation for coming to The Hard Deck changed. He comes every single night, just so he can see you. And if he can't come one night for some reason, he is devastated.

A few months ago, he walked into the bar like a normal weekend evening for him, but instead of Penny giving him his drink, it was you. You recently moved here to California after family matters, to get away. Starting over for yourself. Moving into your tiny apartment and landing a job here at The Hard Deck. Now working every night. You quickly got to know Bradley. Being for the fact you see him just as much as you see Penny. He is definitely a man who leaves an impression and doesn't mind filling the room with his presence. Unlike you who likes to keep hidden behind the bar, keeping to yourself in your own little world. Not making much of any effort to put yourself out there in the open with the extra attention.

And Bradley quickly learned that. He has tried time and time again to try and get you out from behind that bar, but you have turned him down every single time. He sits and watches you stay in the corner. But he notices the small things. Like how when you're working, your hips will sway to certain songs and your head will bob to the beat.

He wants to learn everything about you. To your favorite song to the spots on your body that makes you feel good. Thats why, tonight, he is determined to do just that. Not going to leave this bar until he has the real you having a conversation with him. Even better if you go home with him. But, for now he will more than happy just to have a pure conversation with you. Anything to know more about you.

"Hey." He tries to capture your attention now that the bar is slowing down.

"Yes? Do you need another drink?" You smile warms his soul.

"No, actually. I was hoping I could talk to you." He has a small smile. His hazel eyes fixated on you.

"Okay." Your leery.

"I was thinking, maybe we could go grab some food when you get off. What do you say?"

"I say, you know the answer to this question Bradley." You cross your arms over your chest. Leaning against the bar.

He lets his head fall forward, sighing. Knowing exactly what the answer is, but he doesn't want to hear it. He wants to hear anything but that. The words he gets every single time he tries to get close to you.

"I get off of work to late." And there it is.

"That's not a problem for me."

You sigh. Looking up at the smirking man. Knowing that his stubbornness will not take no for an answer. It's not that you want to say no. God, you want to say yes and spend your nights with him. But you keep pushing him away because you know a man as attractive as he is, could never have interest in a woman with your looks. It just can't be.

You wonder why he does give you so much attention to you. Why he is determined to be close to you at all times. He could go get any woman he wants in the bar. No man that comes in here gives you two looks, but yet he is sitting in a stool watching your every step. Why in the world would he have his eyes on me? It plays around in your head.

"Nice try Roo." You do what you do best. Push him away. Tell him no when you're screaming yes in your mind. When all you want to do is have a nice night with a man you find attractive and enjoy being in his presents. But that fear of yours, that voice inside your head overpowers you. It tells you and reminds you that you will never be good enough, that you're not pretty enough, and that a man like him could never take an interest in you. So, you walk away. Going back to work. Leaving Bradley sitting there in silence. Leaving him with his thoughts.

While you're thinking about why he gives you so much attention, he is thinking about why you give him so little attention. Why say no. Why a beautiful, captivating woman like you shuts yourself off from him and others. He wants to know what you see in yourself. What's going through your mind. What is it that he sees that you don't see? Just as his mind wonders on you, he sees you walk over to the stereo. Turning the volume up. When you return back, you're humming. Your body flowing. The movement of you enchanting him. He listens to the song, hearing Motownphilly by Boys || Men playing.

As he watches you, he has never you seen you so alive. Yes, you hum and move to some songs, but he has never seen a song move you so like this one does. Seeing this, he also sees an opportunity. "I didn't take you to be a Boy's || Men girl."

"Excuse me?"

"The song. You like it?" He raises a brow. Biting at his lip to hide his smile.

"Yeah. It's my favorite song. My Dad use to play it for me growing up." You don't even realize your letting that wall slip. But Bradley watches as it falls.

"You listen to hip hop?"

"Jazz." You correct him.

"Jazzy woman..." He whispers to himself. His plan going perfectly according to plan. "Have you heard Always Be My Baby by Brasstracks?" He continues.

You turn to him. A look of surprise on your expression. "You know Brasstracks?" You say in shock. Thinking you were the only one who listened to them. His smile grows as he nods.

"Wow..." You trail off. "What about Highroad by Sir Woman?" You ask. Bradley slowly becoming head over heels for you as he sees you get so enthusiastic and passionate about something.

"Yeah, I know that one. Musta Been A Ghost by Proxima Parada?" He asks.

"Sober by Earl St. Clair?"

"You Know I'm No Good by Amy Winehouse?"

"Didn't It Rain by Sister Rosetta Tharpe?"

"Oo, Nowhere To Run by Martha Reeves & The Vandellas?"

"It's So Easy by Margo & Mac?" You raise your eyebrows when he takes a long pause.

"Damn. You got me there. I haven't heard that one." He didn't think it was possible, but his smile somehow grew when he heard you laughing. Your head falling back and your smile wide.

This is exactly what he wanted. Learning that you like Jazz and then seeing you laugh at him. And not being able to stop smiling. It's everything he has wished for.

"You should give it a listen." As you smile warmly at him, longingly looking into those dark eyes, you realize he trapped you. That he's the wrecking ball and he just tumbled the wall you built. That he slipped right in and got to you. He paid close attention and found the thing you love and the thing that you could talk about for hours and started slowly pulling back the tape until he had you fully showing the true you. Now you see what he done. Now, you're going to walk away. Scared at the fact that he was able to get to you.

You sigh in defeat. Looking up at the clock realize that it's almost closing time. Not even realizing that Penny called last round. "Would you like to close your tab?" You ask him. He looks at you confused. Looking over at the clock, he realizes he has to get going. "Yeah, that will be fine." You do so. Starting to wipe down the counters but he still sits there.

"So..." He stands from his seat. "I'll meet you outside. We can finish our conversation over some pizza." He smiles at you, and you laugh. Resting your hand on your hip, shaking your head.

"Bradley..." You trail off.

"Yes?" He answers.

"I see what you did there. That was a nice attempt." You scoff. But not at him. More so at yourself.

"How about this..." He walks over to. Leaning against the wood. Getting inches from you. "If you don't enjoy yourself. I'll leave you be. But if you have a good time with me. We do this again next Saturday."

You take a moment to think. Looking away from those burning eyes. You know you will enjoy it. You don't want to admit it, but you loved talking to him. How easy it was. Talking about the things you love. Hell, he made you laugh and smile even.

"You get one chance, Bradley. And that's it." You say firmly, pointing your finger at him. You walk away. Getting your coat. Talking with Penny, her telling you that she's got it, and she can finish closing up. Telling you to go have a good time. So, you get your things. Getting in Bradley's Bronco. Driving you both to the Pizza place down in town that stays open all night for some reason.

Bradley putting on the radio and continuing to ask you about what music you like. How you got into music. What it means to you. Why you like Jazz. Such and such. Asking you anything and everything he can ask. Getting you to talk. As badly as he wants to look at how your face lights up when you speak, he pays attention to the road, and even closer attention to your voice. It smooths him. Relaxes him in a way. Hearing you talk about any and every song you know. From Sighed, Sealed, Delivered, by Stevie Wonder, You Can't Judge A Book By It's Cover by Bo Diddley to Stay Away From Me by Puff Kennedy, All Good by Samm Henshaw, Foreplay by Jalen Santoy and Love + U by Jensen & The Flips. You all but named every song you had on your playlist to him, and he loved hearing about every single one of them.

Next thing you know, you're ordering the pizza and walking back to his Bronco to go back to his place. From talking to the music, it led to telling stories. Mention a song and something crazy that happened when it played. Talking about how different songs remind you of different things. The stories flowing so nicely, your confused when he stops and gets out of the car, walking over to your side to open your door now that you are at his place.

"Okay. Tell me this. Favorite song from a movie?" He looks down at you as you both walk to his door.

"No. I'm not saying it!" You laugh. A specific song coming to your mind.

"Oh, well, you have to tell me now." He laughs with you. The both of you sitting on his couch. You cover your face with your hands. Your knees coming up to your chest. "Don't go getting shy on me now." He coos.

You sigh, "Something That I Want by Grace Potter." You answer.

"The song from Tangled?" He asks and you nod. "Is that your favorite movie?"

"Maybe." You speak. He opens the pizza box. Taking a slice for himself, then another for you. Holding it out in front of you but you put your hand up, shaking your head. "I'm not that hungry." You tell him. Your already out of your comfort zone. You're not about to go and eat in front of him. There is no way it's going to happen.

He frowns. But he doesn't make you eat. He sit's it back in the box. Pushing it so it is facing you in case you change your mind and want it. Comfortable silence falling between the two of you. He eats, leaned against the arm of the couch with his legs spread. You take your shoes off. Leaned against the other arm. Stretching your legs out on the couch. His eyes traveling over your body. At how close you are to him. How badly he wants to touch you. His mind focused on your beauty. The dimples on your cheeks. How your hair barely lays over your shoulders. Your hands interlaced on your lap.

He brings his hand up. Placing it on your ankle, starting to rub small circles. "God, you're gorgeous." He whispers.

"What?" You look up at him. Furrowing your eyebrows. His eyes come to meet yours.

"You're gorgeous." He speaks clearly. You move your head back like to look at him better. The line between your eyebrows growing and your lips parted. You chuckle. "Ha, no. No. Please, don't do that." You shake your head, looking away from him. He squeezes your leg. "Look at me." His eyes are boarded into yours. You squeeze your thighs together. Arousal pooling in-between your legs. He shifts in his seat. Turning his body so that he is facing you. His hand moves from your ankle up to your closed thighs. He leans over you. His face inches away. His lips hovering over yours. The hairs of his mustache tickling the top of your lip. The tension between the two of you heavy. He tries to kiss you, but you move away. Thinking why the hell Bradley Bradshaw finds you attractive.

"Say it." He whispers into your ear. His hand kneading your thigh. Biting your lip, trying to control your breathing. "Say what?" You question. Your voice soft.

"Say, 'I'm beautiful'. I want to hear you say it." He pulls away from your neck to look into your eyes.

"I'm not saying it." You say firmly. Heat creeping up your neck and to your cheeks. You don't think your beautiful. Why should you say it? You gasp in shock when he suddenly pushes your legs open. Pulling you down where you lay against the arm of the couch. Using his legs to keep yours spread wide for himself. Trapping you under him. One of his hands caressing your side and the other by your head, holding himself up.

His lips come to yours. This time, you don't move away. You lean into him. Wrapping your arms around his neck. Lacing your fingers through his soft hair. His hand kneading your breast now, making you moan into his mouth.

"So beautiful." He mumbles. Pulling away from your lips. Kissing along your jawline. Down your neck. "I am not." You stated.

"Oh, really?" He pulls away. "I guess I'll just have to show you then." He kisses right below your ear. Pulling a moan from you. "Show you how beautiful you are. Show you how you need to be touched." He speaks between kisses.

The touch of his lips and the touch of his hands leaves you panting under him. Catching yourself trying to breath normally, your thighs trying to close together but Bradley doesn't allow it. He keeps them open, his bulge rubbing against your core. Driving you crazy, making your head spin like a carousel. It starting to get harder to control your moans.

His lips coming to yours. All tongue and teeth. His hands coming to your legs, wrapping them around his waist. He hosts you up in his arms, standing up. Making you yelp. "Bradley Bradshaw, put me down right now! I'm too heavy!" You slap his chest. His head falling back in laughter.

"Uh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh at you." He can't even get the sentence out without laughing. "Put me down!" You say firmly. Glaring at him.

"Okay. Okay." He mumbles. Putting you down. He doesn't even let you stand there for a whole two seconds before he throws you over his shoulder like a doll.

"Bradley!" You shout at him. He somehow laughs harder. Slapping your ass. He takes you into his bedroom. Stopping at the edge of the bed. He drops you down. Crawling back on top of you. His lips going to yours like a magnet. Not giving you anytime at all to speak. Not giving you time to do anything really. His hands coming up and pulling your jacket off. Throwing it to the side. His hand sliding up your shirt and to your breast. His other hand working at the buttons of your jeans. Not being able to get your clothes off of you fast enough. Your hands moving from his hair down to the hem of his shirt. He holds his arms up, letting you slide his shirt off of him. Your hands immediately going to his chest. Feeling his muscled, smooth skin. How he moves to your touch. If you weren't paying so much attention, you wouldn't have noticed how his breath hitched when you started touching him. How his cock jumped at your touch.

You try to unbutton his pants, but his hands come to yours. Pinning your hands above your head. "Not yet." His breath is heavy. His eyes hungry and you're the meal.

"But what about y-" You try to ask about him. About what he needs, but he cuts you off. "I've waited to long for this moment." He pauses. Jerking your pants down your legs. Throwing them to the floor to be found later. "I'm going to ruin you. Make you mine." He whispers in your ear. Pulling your shirt over your head. You try to cover your body. Try and hide, but Bradley doesn't allow it to happen. He pins your hands down. His eyes slowly ghosting over every inch of your body. Taking his time as he looks at you.

His hand moving and unclasping your bra. Throwing it as far as he can. Groaning at the sight of your bare skin. Finally exposed to him. He has you just how he wants. Naked and under him. Panting and desperate. This is everything he has imagined and more. He takes your breast in his mouth. Sucking, biting and kneading. Devouring you. Ruining you, just like he said he would. And he hasn't even started yet. This is only the beginning. He has already planned the whole night. His thoughts running wild like an animal set free to run in a field.

Even though he loves kissing every inch of your body, his patience can't take it anymore. He has to have more of you. With that, he laces his fingers in your underwear. Pulling them down. Diving into your core without hesitation. His tongue lapping circles around your clit. Pulling a moan from deep inside you. Your back arching off of the bed. Your hands gripping the sheets. Closing your thighs around his head. His hand coming to your thighs. Holding your legs open to give him room to move freely. He teases your entrance with his middle finger. Slowly pushing his finger in. Curling his finger at that spot inside of you that makes you weak. He adds another finger.

When your moans became louder. When you clenched your walls around his fingers, Bradley swore he entered heaven. He paid very close attention to your body. How his name continuously falls from your lips. How you pull his hair, how you try to grind your hips against his face. When he sucks your clit harshly, it makes your legs jerk and shake. Your mouth falling open, and your eyes shut. You look down to see Bradley's eyes already on you. The sight of him between your legs, looking at you like you're the most angelic thing he has ever seen, it sends shivers down your body. It sends you over the edge. Overwhelms you. That feeling in your stomach getting stronger, consuming you. Making you scream.

Bradley knows you are close. He knows you are about to come undone. You're the present and he is pulling at the strings, slowly opening you up. "Come for me." He groans against your core. The vibration of his words against you, the tone in his voice was enough to send you over the edge. That feeling getting so tight in your stomach until it is set free and your climax crashes over you. Bradley, helping you come down from your high. He stays still between your legs until he hears your breathing starting to slow down.

He pulls away. Licking his lips. Taking his fingers into his mouth. Sucking the cum off. Looking into your eyes as he does so. Looking over his face, at his red swollen lips and you're cum covering his chin and his mustache.

His lips come to yours. Kissing you as he pulls his pants down. Taking his cock in his hand. Pumping it. Precum leaking from it. He takes you in his arms. Walking around the bed, not breaking the kiss. He sits down. Placing you on his lap. You grind against his cock. His hips jolting up against you. His head falling back. Swears falling from his mouth. "Such a good girl." He mumbles against your skin. He holds the back of your neck. Pulling you to his lips. You attempt to lift your hips up so that your weight isn't on him, but he pushes you back down. Making you sit against him. "Bradley..." You say between kisses. He hums against your lips.

"I'm too heavy." You whisper. Looking down, avoiding his eyes. Trying to hide behind your hands.

"Hey..." He holds your chin. Tilting your head up. Making you look into his eyes. "You are not heavy. I don't want to hear that shit. Now... be a good girl and ride my cock." Your breath hitches at his words. Your walls clenching around nothing.

You nod. Lifting your hips. He lines his cock up with your entrance. Pushing the tip in. His hands holding your hips. "That's it. Just like that. Good girl. Take your time." He speaks between groans. Watching you as you slowly lower yourself down on his cock until he is bottomed out in you. You lift back up, then back down. Circling your hips. Starting to get into a rhythm. Riding his cock. Clenching your walls around him when the head of his cock hits that spot inside of you. Your action making Bradley grip your skin. His hand on your hip guiding you. His other hand moving to your hair. Pulling at it.

Kissing you. The kiss messy, wet and hot. His mouth moving down your neck. Biting your shoulder. Moaning out his name. Clenching around him. Beginning to move faster. All of it starting to become too much for Bradley. Your body pressed to his. Your breast bouncing in his face. Tight around his cock. Hearing his name being moaned. He does everything he can to try and make this last. To not immediately cum. Holding it back, trying to control himself. But your no better than him. That knot in your stomach coming back in a heartbeat. That heat growing back. The head of his cock hitting that spot repeatedly. Making your mind become cloudily. Your legs weak to the point they start shaking.

Your close. And you know he is too. His cock twitching in you. His groans becoming louder. His kisses becoming sloppy. You're both a mess. A mess over each other. He thrust his hips up. Meeting your movement. Starting to slam his cock into you. Pushing deeper inside of you. Filthy words coming from his mouth. His hands all over you. Moving from your thighs to your hips, your sides, your breast, your hair. Touching every part of your body he can get to. His hand going to your cunt. Pressing his finger to your clit. Rubbing harsh circles. Watching your head fall back.

"That's it. Uh, fuck. Come. Come all over my cock." He grunts. His hips getting sloppy. Knowing he won't be able to hold it together for much longer.

You do just as he says. Milking his cock. Your climax sending him into his. "Good girl. That's it. Uh, good girl." He fills you up with his cum. Shooting his seed deep in you. Starting to slow down, riding you both off of your high. Staying just like you are. You rest your forehead against his. His arms wrapping around your body. Holding you impossibly closer. You know as he holds you, that he is right. That he is right in every way. He has ruined you. You are his. And most of all, you did have a good time tonight. And you know you want to do this again. You see now that Bradley has opened up your eyes.

He moves his head away. Kissing you. He pulls out. Watching his come start to drip out of you. He looks up at you. Seeing your eyes already on him. Your lips starting to curl into a smile.

"What are you thinking about?" He tucks your hair behind your ear. Holding the side of your face.

"Just thinking about next Saturday. Same time? When I get off?" His smile grows.

"Yes ma'am." Bradley couldn't be happier than he is right now with you.

"Good. Cause I have plans for us."

"Is that so?" He tilts his head. His words teasing.

"Oh, yeah." You didn't think it was possible, but your smile somehow managed to grow.

Bradley grinned up at you. Holding you to him, he flips you on your back. Tenderly kissing your lips.

[aestheticaltcow]

Just a Kiss

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Both you and Bradley want to take your friendship to the next level.

Top Gun: Maverick Masterlist

“I’m not makin’ fun of you. I just think it’s-” Bradley chuckled, “It’s funny because you’re fuckin’ gorgeous, and you’re telling me you haven’t been with anyone in a year?”  you rolled your eyes in response and threw a handful of popcorn at him from the other side of the couch. “Shut up Bradshaw.” you challenged, snuggling deeper into the plush couch he’d helped you lug into your apartment four years ago when you met. 

Bradley was definitely your favorite neighbor; you’d water his plant and feed his cat while he was deployed. In return, he’d open jars and help you carry heavy stuff upstairs. As the two of you got to know each other better, you’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about what his mustache would feel like against your skin. He was tall, tan, and handsome, but he’d never go for a girl like you- you’d seen the girls leaving his apartment on Saturday and Sunday mornings; they were all petite blonds with perfect tits and plush lips… i.e., not you.

“I’m just being honest, Y/N. You’re gorgeous and funny and kind… you’re a good person. You could get any guy you want.” Bradley said, reaching for his beer sitting on the coffee table. “I guess.” you sighed, turning your attention back to the shitty reality tv show the two of you had been watching. 

“Come out with me and the guys tomorrow. It’ll be fun.” Bradley suggested as he left that night. “I don’t know Bradshaw… I have plans on Saturday morning, and last time we went out, Nat drank me under the table and-” You began trying to wiggle your way out of this invite. Bradley shook his head, “You’re comin’ out with us, Y/N, not takin’ no for an answer.”

~

Bradley regretted inviting you to the bar that weekend. You stood by the jukebox talking with Phoenix about god knows what, and he scanned the room, noticing how many drunken sailors were looking you up and down. He wasn’t lying when he complimented your appearance and character the other night. When you moved into the apartment across the hall, he thought you’d be one of his conquests. The afternoon you’d asked him to help move that ugly oversized gingham couch up three flights of stairs because it didn’t fit in the elevator, he realized that his attraction to you wasn’t just skin deep. Then, as the months went by, the casual conversations the two of you shared in the hallway or the mail room turned into less casual conversations and exchanging phone numbers. You’d melded into his life seamlessly, and Bradley knew he needed you in a more intimate way, but he didn’t want to screw up your friendship if the two of you ended up having no chemistry.

“You don’t come here a lot, do you, sugar?” a man asked you as he walked up to where you and Phoenix had been hanging out. Phoenix looked the man up and down, “She’s here with Rooster.” she warned. “I don’t see Bradshaw around here- never hurts to make another friend, right?” he challenged, glancing at Phoenix before turning his attention fully toward you. “Lemme buy you a drink.” his voice dripped with a sickly sweet affect. You stepped backward and shook your head, “I’m okay.” you put a hand up defensively, hoping he’d get the message and back off- oh, but of course, he didn’t.

Bradley heard the commotion when he came out of the bathroom. He turned the corner and saw some bottom-of-the-barrel seaman cornering you and Phoenix. Bradley strode toward the jukebox with clenched fists and chuckled. “Seaman, clearly, these ladies aren’t interested. I suggest you walk away before I have to take matters into my own hands.” 

The man froze as Bradley spoke. He swallowed awkwardly and offered a pitiful apology before walking in the other direction. You felt the air leave your lungs. Bradley was basically a knight in shining armor. “Wanna leave?” he asked you.

You nodded and followed Bradley to the bar. He closed out his tab before the two of you walked out of the bar toward his car in the parking lot. When the two of you were in the car, you turned to stare at Bradley, “What do I have something on my face?” he laughed as he swiped the back of his hand against his mouth. “No, but I- I need to do something before we leave.” you quivered as your confidence began to run dry; before you could chicken out, you leaned across the center console and pressed your lips against Bradley’s. After the initial shock of what was happening washed away, Bradley deepened the kiss by bringing his hand to your cheek. 

You ended the kiss, leaving Bradley breathless, “Sorry, I’ve really wanted to do that for a while.” you swallowed, hoping you hadn’t ruined your friendship. “I’m glad you did; I’ve wanted to for a while now, too.” he managed to say before reaching for your cheek again.

[0mg-bird]

Sister’s Mister (Pt 2) ~B. Bradshaw x Seresin!Sister Reader

Summary: The after effects of being with the girl he wasn’t supposed to touch are going to be the reason Bradley loses his mind.

Warning: Language, 18+ content, smut

A/n: Part Two of Sister’s Mister, read part one here.

One week and four days.

That’s how long it’s been since Bradley seen you.

There’s been a buzz under his skin ever since, like he’s in a constant state of brain fog. He gets up in the mornings, takes a cold shower and thinks of reaching out, but he never does and neither do you.

He tells himself this is for the better, one time didn’t too much damage, Hangman never found out, he was in the clear.

But…

Bradley stalks your social media pages, his search history is full of your name followed by magazine names and name brands that are associated with your face. He seriously contemplates going to an Urgent Care, believing you might have drugged him. Anyone mentions your name and he lets out a shaky breath. He can’t even look Hangman in the eye.

And just when he thinks he’s officially detoxed, you show up at the Hard Deck.

He’s only half a beer down, but the second you rush through the front doors, he’s chugging it down and going to order another.

Hair wavy from the curlers they were in earlier, your relaxed outfit doesn’t match your crazed mood.

With a huff, you come to join the aviators.

“I am so sorry I’m late.” You immediately apologize as you greet everyone. Turning to your brother, he watches in amusement as you explain yourself.

“The shoot ran way later than expected, hair and makeup was a disaster, half the team bailed, the set manager was freaking out, I’m pretty sure I got a sunburn. As soon as they got the final shots, some of the girls wanted to get a bite to eat, that turned into a few glasses of champagne. Now, I’m here. Hi.” You rush with your words, though they end when Jake hugs you.

“Poor little model girl.” He fakes a pout.

From the bar, Bradley procrastinates on taking his beer and going back to the group that has their attention on you. His foot taps on the floor as he finds the courage, soon he takes a breath and just pushes himself forward.

Immediately, your eyes find him.

It’s like the ache you’ve had ever since you left his arms is gone.

The entirety of moments following are all just glances shared back and forth. The warm bar scene really isn’t doing you any favors, neither is it for him. You clip your hair up, your shirt slides off your shoulder as you lean over the pool table, winning a bet you made with Coyote.

A few more drinks come and go, music is flowing, you’re swaying next to the jukebox and Bradley is at war with his mind and heart.

At some point, Phoenix slides her way beside him, watching him stare off in your direction as you fight with Jake over which song to play next.

“That’s a poison you don’t want to pick, Bradshaw.” She says, making him snap his eyes away.

He shakes his head, trying to deny anything but Nat looks up at him with a pointed face.

“Here’s a tip, if you don’t want Hangman to find out you want his little sister, don’t eye fuck her.” She says, patting his chest.

Bradley sighs. “Don’t say anything about this.”

“What? I’m not gonna get you killed.” She laughs, not helping his guilty mind any.

As you sift past bodies, making your way to the secluded bathroom in the back of the bar, his eyes are tracking your every step. And as his mind is screaming at him to just forget about you, he trails after you.

The stall clanks as you come out to wash your hands, then you lean against the sink and sigh.

It feels like you’re on fire and he hasn’t even touched you. You could feel those brown eyes on you, it was suffocating. He looked too good, his voice was so smooth and he didn’t even speak to you.

He hasn’t called in a week and four days.

You remind yourself of that fact and try to get your head straight.

Drying your hands, you decide you’ll tell everyone goodbye and be on your way. It was getting late anyway, you could go back to your house, take a shower, get in bed and watch some tv. That was safe, you’d be able to control yourself.

Head on straight now, you open the bathroom door and immediately forget the entire safe plan you just made.

Bradley stands there, looking at you with round brown eyes, lips parted slightly. “Hi.” He greets, not knowing there’s a fire lit in your stomach.

“Hi.” You smile.

So much for a conversation, the two of you just stand with a heated silence before you have the urge to speak.

“H-How are you? How have you been?”

He wants to laugh at your effort to remain normal.

“Me? I’ve been acting a fool since you left.” He says in utter transparency, making your brows furrow slightly.

“Makes me wish you would’ve called and told me.” You state with an awkward laugh, tucking your hair behind your ear.

Bradley looks half confused and half surprised.

“I didn’t call because I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to or not…you never called either, so…” He looks away almost bashfully, but he tries to mask his look with one of manly stoicism.

Now you really are taken back. Slightly shaking your head, a dry chuckle leaves your lips.

“Bradley…you never gave me your number. I was waiting for you to call.” You say, making him snap his head back to you.

He’s an idiot.

Of course he is.

“I’m…damn it, I’m sorry sweetheart.” He laughs at himself and scratches the back of his neck. “God, I’m an idiot.”

“No you aren’t.” You say, stepping closer.

“This entire time I could’ve been talking to you- even though it’s still not the best idea-”

You reach out, hand on his jaw as you lean up to kiss him. He immediately silences, pressing his lips back to yours, softly savoring you.

After a moment, with his hands on your waist, you pull back. Hand slipping up to his hair, you don’t miss the way his eyes flutter shut for a moment.

“I’ve thought about you every day, since.” You whisper, watching his eyes pull back open, a shade darker.

“I’m going to get myself in trouble.” He says, fingers flexing before gripping your hips a little tighter.

“You’re already this far in, what’s the harm in more?” You question.

He internally groans. Because what was the harm in more? He wanted it so badly, all he can hope for is to see you every day until you leave. He’ll take you out, all of his free time could be given to you.

All he had to do is follow your lead.

“We could go back to my place.” You offer quietly, smiling as he kisses you once more.

“Meet me outside by my car.” He says with a sly grin.

And that’s what you do. Going back to the group, you say goodnight to everyone, telling your brother that you’re getting a ride home and you’ll see him for lunch tomorrow.

Then you calmly step out into the night air and lean against the Bronco.

After five minutes, Bradley is coming to find you.

You bite your lower lip, containing your giddy laugh as he helps you into the passenger seat.

Hand on your thigh, you direct him to the seaside rental. It’s almost like you’re in a cloud of deja vu, the way the two of you fall into the house, tangled together, all hot and feverish. It’s the same way you two were before.

He blindly shuts the door behind him before turning and pushing you up against the wall. His mouth on your neck has you breathing hard, has your hands pushing his shirt up.

“Bedroom.” You pant. “Bedroom is down the hall.”

Immediately he pulls you from the wall, heated hands lifting you from the ground. Your legs wrap around his waist, he supports you by both hands gripping your ass.

“Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this everyday.” You admit, arms around his neck, tongue in his mouth.

Bradley groans. “You can’t say things like that, baby.”

His pleading tone shoots arousal through you.

“Why not?” You ask dumbly, getting backed through the bedroom door. “Not sure you can handle the truth?”

Clothes get scattered onto the ground, your urgent in your actions, yanking his belt open and unzipping his jeans. He unhooks your bra in one fluid motion and tosses it behind him, laying you flat on your back, against the bed. He trails that skilled tongue of his over your sensitive breasts. He places open mouthed kisses down your chest and over your stomach.

“I don’t think I can leave you again after this.” He claims as he yanks your underwear down.

“Then don’t.” You say, meeting his eyes as he comes back up to you.

He leans down and kisses you slowly, a different change of pace. You moan into his mouth as his fingers run between your thighs, finding how wet you are.

“You have to mean that.” He whispers in a rough tone.

“I do.” You gasp as he sinks two fingers into you slowly. Your hand grips the back of his head. “I mean it, Bradley.”

His erection twitches in his boxers.

He can’t help the marks he sucks into your collar bones, he thinks he might just lose it when you kiss him with an urgent need, biting his bottom lip.

“Don’t make me wait.” You say. “I want to feel you inside me, please.”

The realization hits him.

“I don’t have a condom.” He says.

“I’m on birth control.” You breathe, hands already trying to tug his boxers down.

The idea of being inside of you. Raw. It has him pulling his drenched fingers from you and sucking them clean. He lets you tug the fabric down, lets you run your palm over him a few times before he practically shoves you back, needing to feel the way you’ll wrap warmly around him.

He brushes your hair out of your face, cradles your jaw as he slowly pushes into you.

You groan breathlessly, head digging into the pillow as he stretches you perfectly.

“Fuck.” He curses under his breath. “You feel so fucking good.”

A moan tumbles from your lips as he hits an enticing spot inside of you. His hand runs down your thigh and grabs the back of your knee, kissing you as he hooks that leg around his waist, giving him more room to slowly thrust against you.

You let out a giggle, utterly relieved at the pleasure of him dragging back and forth against your walls.

“You’re so addicting.” He admits, pulling out of you almost completely before sinking back in.

The sound of your wetness grows as he speeds up, it has you gripping onto his wide shoulders.

“That’s it.” You praise. “Like that.”

He grows a drunk smirk. “Yeah? You like it like this? You love how I hit it so deep and good?”

“Yes- ah, Bradley.” You gasp as he makes his thrusts more pointed.

“Good. I love it when you take it so good, fuck, you’re such a good girl.”

Your lips tremble at the praise, eyes falling shut as you pant. His lips to the skin of your neck, the bristle of his mustache makes you shiver. He moans against you at the way you maintain a grip around him.

“Bradley.” You whine, begging him to push harder.

He does, of course he does, he’ll do anything if you keep calling his name like that. Your free hand grips the sheets while the other is in his hair or trailing your nails across his back. His movement jolts you, shakes you closer to the headboard and you couldn’t be more thrilled.

“There you go, baby.” He coos, thumb trailing over your parted lips. “You want it like this, huh?” He asks as he spreads you wider, giving him the space he needs to fuck into your tight cunt.

“Mhm. Fuck, you’re so deep.”

You keep saying those dirty words and all he wants to do is pound into you until your screaming. It’s one tweak he makes, one adjustment of his hips, your hips, that has you gasping out. He knows he’s hitting the right spot when your nails dig into his shoulder.

“Bradley- please- feels so good like this.” You cry out, muscles tightening as your orgasm starts to build.

“Shit, you’re gonna make me come.” He breathes, finding your open mouth.

Your pants are heavy, your voice hoarse as you whimper his name over and over, it makes his head swim and his dick twitch inside of you.

You can’t even kiss back at this point, you’re too lost in the hot feeling blooming in your stomach.

“Please say I can finish inside you.” He pleads, gripping your hips as you try and arch off the bed.

“Yes! You can- need to feel it- I’m so close.”

“I know, I know.” He comforts, grunting as he fucks into you, trying to get the two of you closer.

Completely incoherent words come from you, your face buries in his neck, lips sucking his skin to stop the noises you want to loudly whine. The tension builds and builds, your heels dig into the matress and then you’re falling over the edge.

Your body goes rigid, your grip on him tightens as he fucks you through the orgasm. You’re coming with a shaky moan, your eyes blown completely wide as the feeling takes ahold of you.

“There it is, that’s it.” Bradley praises. “I’m so close, I’m going to come.” He curses, your name coming from him like a prayer.

His rhythm falters as he pushes deep inside of you one last time and he finishes, body going numb.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck yes.” He praises, watching how your body shakes under him.

He grips your thighs as he sits back, watching with amazement as he finally pulls out and sees the mess the two of you made together. It’s a sight that’s going to be on his mind forever.

It’s in that moment of bliss, when you’re entering earth’s atmosphere again, that a pleased smile sits on your sleepy lips. Bradley lays beside you, an arm over his eyes as he takes deep breaths.

“Hey…” He blindly reaches for you when you don’t speak or move. “You still with me?”

You try to move some part of your body but it all feels too heavy at the moment.

“Mhmm.” Is all you groan, eyes casted on the ceiling as your vision becomes clear again. Your mind is completely drunk and woozy, the only thing you can do is put your hand over his that rests on your thigh.

This feeling is intoxicating beyond a lustful level, that’s something you know for sure.

- - - -

The windows are open to let the night breeze in, and the sound of the ocean is calming as you pull your messy hair up into an odd shaped bun. Both of you half dressed, Bradley groans as he pushes his face into the pillow. You let your eyes trace over the shape of his back muscles as they contort, then you lean forward, running your hands over his bare skin. As you lean to press your lips to his shoulder blades, he turns his head to the side to show his goofy smile.

“You staying the night?” You ask, voice low as you kiss his skin.

“I was planning on it, unless you’re gonna kick me out.” He mumbles.

You lean towards his face. “I think I’ll keep you around for now.” You tease.

Bradley chuckles, then shifts onto his side, his strong arms dragging you against him. Those sleepy brown eyes of his look into yours, all warm and meaningful and it doesn’t scare you.

“What are you doing Sunday?” He asks in an intimate tone since you’re just inches away.

You hum. “Not sure…but I could probably fit you into my schedule.”

He rolls his eyes, moving to bury his face in your neck. As he kisses your delicate skin, he mumbles his words.

“I was thinking I’d like to take you out on a date, but if Gucci calls and needs your pretty face, I understand.”

You laugh, pulling him back in fear he’ll suffocate against you. “I’d love a proper date.”

Now he gives you an all out grin and nods. “Okay, that sounds good.”

Pressing your lips to his, the two of you nestle together in your bedroom kingdom, wrapped in the covers and each other’s scent. You fall soundly asleep first, laid on his chest, and Bradley looks down at you and screws his eyes shut.

He was so screwed. So unbelievably screwed.

This was something that wasn’t his, and now he is set to make it his.

Even if it just might kill him.